Last Thursday I was observed by my ‘university colleague’ (aka The Black Death) while I did a lesson as part of the teaching prac requirement. As well as being intimidated by the fact that there were three people watching my every move (my mentor, the Japanese language assistant and ‘The Black Death’) I could also see her out of the corner of my eye writing down pages of notes and talking in a low voice to my mentor for the entire lesson. After the lesson when it was time to have a ‘chat’, I was prepared for the worst.
Funnily enough she was quite complimentary and while she had no problems with my teaching, on the behaviour management side of things, she said I needed to stop ‘seeking approval from the students for my actions’. I took in what she said and was thinking back over what happened in the lesson and could think of nothing that I did wrong. When I asked her to clarify, she pointed out that when I had asked a girl to take off her sunglasses I’d said, ‘Great glasses, but could you take them off for me please.’
Apparently the inclusion of ‘for me’ was an indication that I wasn’t being assertive and was hesitant to tell a student what to do.
Well, derrrrrrrr…..no shit sherlock, I’m a slave for pete’s sake!
Now, if only I could say that and she’d be like “Oh, okay…not a problem!” Lol… in some alternative universe perhaps.
I’ve spent most of the last two weeks busting kids left right and centre, before, during and after school and even my Tuesday lunchtime is spent in the detention room with the ‘bad kiddies’. It’s been a very sharp learning curve in terms of yelling, hushing and throwing kids out of my classroom. Normally I’m a very softly spoken, meek and mild girlie. I don’t like to be yelled at and I don’t yell at others. As a result, my voice cracks and warbles and reaches very unstable levels of shrillness as I struggle to make myself heard over the thirty-odd bundles of smelly hormones in front of me (what is it with teenage boys and deodorant anyway?)
I think in some ways, it’s all contributing to my return to feralness. Not only am I getting more and more used to telling people what to do and putting on my ‘don’t mess the fuck with me’ face, but Master is also not here to rein me back in at night and slap me back down to where I should be. In some ways that is a good thing and in other ways it’s bad….very bad.
Now I said a while back that I’ve been broken. Broken, but not trained in the greatest James Bond sense, but I keep wondering when and if bouts of feralness are going to make me ‘whole’ again.
I got angry today, really angry and spent most of Sunday pissy with Master. Why? Because he’d hurt me and made me cry. My weekend was really good until that moment – my Saturday was highly productive and my Sunday had started off with waffles, maple syrup, ice-cream and strawberries and then I was snotty, red-eyed and had a pounding headache and a throbbing bum and cunt. I got my pissyness under control later in the afternoon, but it took a significant period of time and a bowl of chocolate ice-cream to do it. But why should I be pissy at him for doing what he wants? And what right have I got to be pissy anyway? A month ago when I was freshly ‘broken’ I would have been able to keep my feelings under check and accept my role as his slave and target practice dummy, but now all I want to do is ask, “Why?”
I am definitely feeling twinges of feralness, or is that merely pms on the horizon.