Les enseignants le lundi

 Une amie de la lointaine époque du cégep a partagé ce dessin de Jack Koch hier. Elle est bien entendu prof. J'ai cru opportun de partager ça aujourd'hui. J'ai quitté le merveilleux monde de l'éducation il y aura bientôt 14 ans et je ne m'ennuie pas du tout, surtout pas le lundi...

School Holidays

Schools have started breaking out from last week on in the area of England we are in. If I am not mistaken, today is the very last day of school everywhere. Pupils and students are on school holiday. It means nothing to me personally anymore, as I do not work in education. I have definitely left the teaching world in 2010, although I did not know it then. I don't miss it one bit, to be honest. I don't envy English students, as everywhere in the shops they start to advertise the return to school next September the moment schools break out. And that's not nice. I also think the school year ends far too late here. One of the many reasons I don't miss working in the teaching world.

Overeducated and underpaid

My wife sent me recently this BBC article, about a depressing and chilling piece of news: here in the UK, almost a third of graduates are overqualified for the job they have. I think this is probably the case in other Western countries as well. I find it disheartening. It is not my situation, but in these uncertain times it is never good news. And I have been in the same situation in the past, about ten years ago, when I was, ironically enough, working in education. This made me vow to never again work as a teacher. My heart goes to all these talented young people who are in dead-end jobs. I feel their pain.

Mafalda et Sartre

Je partage ce soir un gag de Mafalda, rien que pour le plaisir. Mais c'est aussi un peu parce que je me suis rendu compte d'une anecdote amusante sur le gag lui-même: c'est peut-être la première fois que j'ai entendu parler de Jean-Paul Sartre. Des années plus tard, j'ai étudié Sartre et les existentialistes, pour ensuite l'enseigner un peu moi même. La mère de Liberté a un rapport plus proche avec, mais quand même, je trouve ça drôle.

Liverpool Lime Street Station (a memory)

I took this picture at the National Railway Museum of York. You might think it looks ugly, but I can assure you the original is much uglier. I took this photo not for its aesthetic value, or lack of, but because when I was working in Liverpool, more than ten years ago, this was the station I was going to and from during my commute. Back in the days when I was still a teacher and an academic, this was therefore part of my daily life. We all form weird sorts of attachment regarding elements from a time in our life when we were fond of and this is one of them. Not that I am not happy now, in fact being a father makes me far happier than I ever was, but professionally speaking, my "Liverpool job" as I often call it has been the one I enjoyed the most in all my adult life. And this reminds me of that time.

The Ticklers in secondary school

Time flies: today was the first day of the Ticklers at the secondary school. It was the school where I used to work seven years ago. A bit more now come to think of it, I worked there from late 2009 until May 2010. I don't regret my time there, but I am glad I don't work there anymore, having left an education career somewhat bitter (see this post for what I feel about school here). It would have been strange to teach them, probably not easy, as they are too familiar with me. Still, I sometimes wonder about it. Anyway, I saw a picture of Blonde Tickler on Facebook in her new school uniform and I felt a bit sad. I hope they don't grow up too fast.

"September is coming"(?)

This was the subject title of an automated email I received from one of the job sites I am registered to. Apparently, they are looking for teachers in various schools around the area for the next school year. I thought it was strange, receiving such email so early, but it makes sense. Except that I am no longer a teacher, so it does not concern me anymore. A few years ago, such a reminder of the end of holidays would have made me feel really low. Not as bad as a "Back to School" message, but still. Now, it just reminds me that autumn will come eventually and that I should be patient, as it might not be so far away... And I am okay with that.

La rentrée des profs

Une amie française, enseignante, que je ne vois plus depuis des années a mis cette image sur sa page Facebook afin de souligner la rentrée des profs. Je ne sais pas qui est le bédéiste (c'est de la ligne claire classique), mais ça me rappelle du temps où je travaillais dans le merveilleux monde de l'éducation. Quoique dans mon cas, j'ai surtout vécu mes rentrées scolaires un peu en différé. Enfin bref, comme c'est assez drôle et assez semblable à mes expériences, je la télécharge ici, en souhaitant à tous les profs que je connais une bonne rentrée scolaire.

Les bancs d'école...

Photo prise au York Castle Museum, ce que vous voyez est une reproduction d'une salle de classe d'une école de l'époque victorienne (selon les souvenirs de ma femme). La photo illustre le sujet de mon billet. Alors donc, nous sommes à ce moment de l'année où l'année scolaire n'en finit plus de finir. Enfant, je détestais cordialement, parce que j'avais hâte aux vacances et parce qu'on s'emmerdait ferme à l'école, en plus d'être dans le rush. Ce n'est parce qu'on est occupé qu'on ne peut pas s'ennuyer. Cette année, ces souvenirs pénibles me reviennent à l'esprit pour une raison: ma femme étudie pour avoir son brevet d'enseignement et pour elle aussi l'année scolaire n'en finit plus de finir. Je compatis, surtout que le travail n'arrête pas et que l'année scolaire anglaise est longue. Revenir sur les bancs d'école, c'est toujours un peu pénible. Il y a plusieurs raisons pour lesquelles j'ai tourné le dos à l'enseignement, outre que j'ai trouvé le milieu scolaire trop souvent toxique (ma principale raison). Les bancs d'école me rappellent maintenant trop souvent de mauvais souvenirs. Mais ma femme n'a pas eu jusqu'ici la même expérience, alors elle n'a heureusement pas la même aversion.

Professor Red

Remember Mr Orange and Officer Blue, the two fur ball thingies that I have as decorations? I blogged about them in 2008. Back then, I said I would try to find more of these. I had the intention to start a collection of these trivial things. Well, years later, I have re-started the collection with a third addition to the lot: Professor Red. My wife went to a job fair recently and got this little fella from the University of Reading. He has a nice red colour and I wanted to distinguish him from the others and give him a name that fitted his background. As he comes from the world of academia, I have christened him Professor Red. I thought about Crimson or Scarlet at first, but then decided it would sound too pretentious. It may be an academic fur ball, but in the end, it's only a fur ball. So Professor Red it is.

The train to Liverpool

I took this picture at the National Railway Museum in York, where I took a ridiculous amount of pictures. I love trains that much. This wagon reminded me of my time in Liverpool, where I lived for a year when I was teaching there. I used to commute by train from and to the suburbs, in an overcrowded train that was not nearly as nice looking at this one and not nearly as comfortable. It was a very short journey, but it was the most uncomfortable commute I ever been through. All the same, I miss my time there and even the daily commute. My trips from and to Liverpool to see my then fiancée now wife were much nicer, spent in fast trains going from Lime Street Station. So looking at this wagon in the museum made me remember my life there. And just because it is a nice looking wagon with cheerful colour and I love trains, I decided to upload the picture here tonight.

"Back to School"

I saw this recently on the front window of the local Accessorize/Monsoon. My wife is quite fond of this shop, so we often end up there. I am not sure I like the shop all that much now. But anyway, I saw this and it struck me: "Back to School." And we are still in the first half of August. I think this is the first shop on the high street advertizing the new school year. I know I am a grownup, I haven't been working in school for more than five years now, I haven't been a student in school for even longer, my year is no longer arranged according to the school year, but it still has the same effect on me. Like a stab on the holidays. And every time I see it, the August melancholy comes roaring. It never fails. It is something deeply ingrained in the psyche since childhood. I have first uploaded this picture on Facebook, and judging by the reactions of my friends, I am not the only one feeling like this. This window makes them all feel gloomy.

Une pensée pour Charlemagne

J'ai cru comprendre qu'au Québec, c'est pour bien du monde la rentrée des classes ce matin, ou en tout cas cette semaine, en tout cas pour les professeurs. En août, je trouve ça beaucoup trop tôt, alors je compatis. Et je ne veux pas retourner le fer dans la plaie, mais ici c'est un jour férié. Cela dit, il fait un temps exécrable, alors vous êtes vengés. À chaque rentrée scolaire, on nous sert cette chanson stupide de France Gall à la radio, que j'ai vite appris à détester. Mais ça veut dire qu'à chaque rentrée, j'ai une pensée pour Charlemagne. Qui pour moi, n'est pas tant celui de l'histoire que celui d'une autre chanson, celle de La Chanson de Roland. Je suis médiéviste de formation, spécialisé en littérature médiévale, voyez-vous. Ca m'attriste donc que sa mémoire soit gâchée par une chanson aussi merdique (celle de France Gall, pas la chanson de geste!), que je ne vous ferai pas subir sur ce blogue. Le Charlemagne de l'histoire, avec tous ses défauts (il était cruel et sanguinaire) ne méritait pas ça. Alors de chanson, lisez donc un peu de La Chanson de Roland aujourd'hui.

Keeping God out of the schools

Everybody in for a bit of controversy for a Friday night? How about Christian prayers in secular schools? You think it does not exist. Oh yes it does, in the UK at least. I have witnessed it first hand. I worked in a school, a school that labeled itself secular, that was legally and officially considered secular. Yet they had Christian prayers in assemblies. Which made me mutter Jesus Christ the first time I've witnessed it. And every time after that. Of course, I consider it wrong. This is a form of proselytism, this is religious propaganda, it is a betrayal of the mission of a public, secular school, which should have no religious bias whatsoever... and it is perfectly legal. Because England is not a secular country, not by law, it is, in the incestuous way the Church of England and the public institutions go to bed together, absolutely backward. But now the school governors want to abolish the rule on Christian assemblies. It would be about time. In any circumstances, the prayers in schools would be bad enough, in a secular and pluralist society, they are not only "meaningless" as the governors said, they are also obscurantist and cowardly, trying to give a particular faith a legitimacy and a relevance it does not have.

So yes, I was very happy to read the news. And when I heard about this petition, I gladly signed it. Even though I am not into petitions usually, whatever the cause. I also invited people to sign it on Facebook, and I am doing it here tonight. Because as long as there are Christian school assemblies, there are no secular schools in Britain, plain and simple. And I have witnessed them with my own eyes. And they were just as bad and sick as the old Catholic classes I had when I was growing up in Québec. They poison and atrophy the minds and have pupils look at their feet as if they'd find God there. So they need to end.

Ce sentiment de retour à l'école

En fin de semaine, je suis allé avec ma femme acheter des vêtements, tâche passablement angoissante dont je suis d'ailleurs rentré complètement bredouille. Et puis dans une allée, je suis tombé sur des uniformes d'écoles, des trucs gris/noirs particulièrement drabes. Et ça m'a donné un de ces coups de mélancolie carabinée. L'année scolaire n'est même pas terminée ici que déjà les magasins se mettent en mode rentrée. Je ne vais plus à l'école, je ne travaille plus non plus dans le milieu scolaire, en fait je ne suis même pas en vacances présentement, mais ça ne change rien, ça me fout le cafard à chaque fois que je vois des signes de rentrées. Même si le rapport signifiant/signifié est ténu. C'est comme si mes souvenirs d'enfance revenaient en torrent et que l'on me volait un peu l'été. Suis-je le seul à me sentir comme ça?

Liverpudlian (counter)culture

One of my Facebook friends put on her wall this silly internet article, 22 Things Only Students In Liverpool Will Understand. Well, I never was a Liverpool student, but I worked as a teacher in Liverpool and many if not most of my students were Scousers. So reading this silly article brought back some memories. Among them that I never quite got their accent, however charming I found it. Some of the vocabulary I never got either. Anyway, reading this, even though it is exaggerated and overall rather silly, really made me miss my time there. I do disagree with one thing: I am not certain the Beatles and their heavy heritage is as popular as the article seems to claim. And I have a confession to make: I don't remember the lambananas. Which is a darn shame, as I love that kind of quirky stuff. I guess I will need to revisit the city at some point.

Le 321e et sa signification

Il m'arrive parfois de relire les billets des années précédentes. Je relis assez souvent, enfin plus souvent que les autres, l'année 2009. Une chose m'a frappé: en tout et pour tout, je n'ai écrit que 320 billets.  Je sais que j'écris beaucoup, plus que dans bien d'autres blogues, mais 320, c'est très peu comparativement aux autres années. En juin, il n'y en avait que 14. Or cette année, c'est ce mois-ci, avec mon 321e billet, que j'ai déjà dépassé la production de 2009. Alors bon, pourquoi est-ce que ça a été une année modeste? Je n'étais pas plus occupé côté travail, mais celui que j'avais me tuait l'inspiration et me sapait l'énergie, physique comme morale. Je devais faire une heure et demie à l'aller et ensuite au retour, à cause de l'ouvrage. J'étais vraiment ma payé. Je n'étais pas apprécié de mes collègues, qui étaient pour la plupart des bitches. Je pensais en tirer de l'expérience qui aurait pu faire de moi un enseignant, ça m'a dégoûté autant du métier que du milieu. 2009 a été, sauf vers la fin, une année de merde. Job de merde, dans un environnement de merde, dans une école de merde. Bon, c'était aussi parce que pendant mes vacances je bloguais beaucoup moins... Mais c'était surtout une certaine fatigue généralisée. Quand je trouve les temps difficiles au travail, je pense à ces moments-là, à cette année 2009.

Meetings in a nutshell

I know it is the weekend and nobody wants to think about work, but I thought we could end the working week with a bit of humour. I saw this on the desk of one of my colleagues today. I found it hilarious and decided to take a picture of it, but then found a copy on Google so this is the one I took. This is what meetings are, in a nutshell. I know they are sometimes a necessary evil and my current employer does not abuse of them. But I remember some other jobs I had, especially the old job I had at this evil company which made me move where I am now, then threw me out at the first occasion. Then and there, we had numerous and endless meetings where everybody was clueless, but acted as if we were all doing something very productive. Even in my old school job, the one when I felt like a pariah, they were organizing meetings for teaching assistants far more than necessary. So this image and its caustic humor made me laugh anyway.

A memory about Simone de Beauvoir

I was reminded by today's Google Doodle that this was the birthday of Simone de Beauvoir. I love existentialist writers, I am pretty much an existentialist philosophically and de Beauvoir's Deuxième Sexe was one of my mother's favourite non-fiction books for a time (it may still be now). But I have a different memory of the work of Simone de Beauvoir: for me, she was and will remain mainly the author of Le Sang des autres. I gave a course on this novel when I was teaching literature in Liverpool. It was maybe my most popular class, it was probably my best. I miss teaching literature, and today reminded me of this. So joyeux anniversaire Simone. You gave me some of my best working days.

Pelleter des nuages

J'ai lu avec intérêt ce texte d'opinion d'Éric Samson paru dans Urbania. Notamment parce que, comme lui, j'ai étudié en Études françaises à l'Université de Montréal, un domaine souvent vu comme inutile. Incidemment, je ne me rappelle plus l'avoir connu. Il n'était peut-être pas de mes années là-bas. Contrairement à bien de mes anciens camarades de mon alma mater, j'ai présentement un travail et une carrière bien loin de mon domaine: je n'enseigne plus, ni le français ni la littérature, et je ne suis pas libraire, ou blbliothécaire. J'ai souvent la nostalgie de l'enseignement, surtout l'enseignement de la littérature, mais je dois admettre que j'ai réussi à me débrouiller dans l'entreprise privée, à bien des égards beaucoup mieux que dans le merveilleux monde de l'éducation. Surtout ici en Angleterre. Ce qui me fait dire que l'éducation que j'ai reçue a finalement été utile, même si je ne cherchais pas à apprendre quelque chose d'utile. Il Je déteste au plus haut point l'expression "pelleter des nuages", qui est anti-intellectuelle, ignare et peut-être même obscurantiste. L'étude de la littérature m'a appris à structurer ma pensée et à communiquer intelligemment, ce qui est déjà ça de gagné.