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Friday, 18 June 2010

T. F. I. Friday

This has seemed an extraordinarily long week. Normally I find that the days just flash past, but not this week.
I suspect it was the reports.
Even though I set up the report creating system, the templates and the mark books, and have to get the damn things printed, I don't get any extra time allowance to do what I need to do. Normally I don't mind, but several factors combined to squeeze my time management.
Never mind, they're almost finished.
About 14 of us teachers stayed behind last night to complete the proof reading. This is where we sit down, read every teacher's comment in every class and check grammar, spelling, accuracy etc.
We all can make mistakes, and it's quite important that the reports to the caregivers of our pupils are as accurate as possible. It's one way in which a school is judged.
We have planned that the junior (Year 9 & 10) reports would be posted tomorrow, and with almost 450 of them to do, the overworked office staff need most of the day to get them ready for the post at 3:00 pm.
At this stage, these reports are supposed to have been proof read by at least 3 people, and are just awaiting the hand-written comments of the Deputy Principal for that year group.
Now don't get bored and go away, I'm getting to the interesting bit.
Understand the urgency of getting them all finished ready for Friday printing.
Understand that the staffroom is full of people working feverishly on piles of paper
Understand the frustration of the Mums and Dads who want to be home with their young kids.
Understand the tiredness but dedication in everyone.

Then Ringo said he was going home.

This is the guy who is charge of a major lump of our junior school.(and paid major bucks for that responsibility)
This is the guy who hasn't been communicating with anyone involved in the whole process.
This is the guy who called in his two Deans and basically gave them the reports to get edited, and said you fix them.
You could say that rank hath it's privileges.
You could say that the guy had young kids to get home for (but so did many who stayed until 9:00 pm)
You could also say that this behaviour amplifies the deep and building contempt for someone who just doesn't get it.

His reports weren't finished; he'd handed piles of his work onto others and he went home, knowing that he was going to be giving a lot of people a lot of extra work to do on Friday.
Apart from anything else, it's deeply un-professional, and this guy is supposed to be an example for our younger teachers?

My goodness, if Nuova Lazio ever ended up with this guy in charge, god help the staff and kids.
Especially the kids, because the staff can always get a job somewhere else (and many already have plans), but the poor inhabitants of our valley will be stuffed.


  1. Ringo is a complete ass!!! At East the form teachers have to do the envelope stuffing of the reports - I am not sure what our four office ladies do - lazy bunch!

  2. Give me back my flag. Aww Give me back my flag.

  3. I warned you, I warned you...(despairing sigh).
    I might add, if I'm spared long enough, I plan to write the definitive Nuovo Lazio High Report Style Guide. Among the trivia, like the correct uses of "practise" and "practice", "effect" and "affect", "persevere", et al, it will include instructions to always write "God" with an initial uppercase.
    Otherwise He'll be angry too.

  4. Which god?
    The God of Nuova Lazio High, who I think may exist in a sort of sand-laden limbo?
    The God of KiwiLand, who normally exists on a strange altar called a paddock, between two sets of very tall poles of wood?
    The god of Scotsmen, who tend to inhabit that spiritual realm found in a litre bottle filled in Islay?
    The god of accuracy and precision who lives in the lovable soul of a dedicated yet cynical grammatist?

    I don'tnow, but I'm willing to take the risk.

    Good quote TWG, I'd forgotten about Lenin. Hmmm... Ringo is also high in our Union. This does not bode well.
    Death is the solution to all problems. No man - no problem. Possible?


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