So, the movie and dinner plan with Christa fell through last weekend but it's all good - this week we went to see The Hobbit (which, in true Jackson fashion, lived up to its predecessors). The movie started at 10.45AM and we got out, I kid you not, at 2.00PM. We grabbed lunch at a peri-peri chicken place called Nandos where I had a wrap and Christa a burger. Good times that were beyond appreciated in the wake of a week that began okay but quickly descended into hell.
You know what? I'll back up. On Monday I had fairly good day going to a Year 1 class at a school I hadn't been to before. The teacher assistant was a big help and, while the plans for the day were a bit loose, I made do and had a pretty good day. Tuesday I had a job interview which flopped because I was told not to prepare a lesson plan by my consultant (although she denies this) and, lovely surprise, guess what the school wanted to see? Yup, my lesson plan. Happy camper I was not.
And this brings us to Wednesday - NOT a good day. At all. It was, in fact, my worst day to date. I was going to Clapham to an Islamic school and school started at 8.30AM giving me an hour to get there. No problem. The tube rides were a piece of cake, easy as pie, and then my consultant ordered up a taxi to collect me and bring me to the school. I waited half an hour, finally got a call from the driver who told me was there but didn't see me. Cue ten minutes of Marco-Polo and then a walk back to his taxi. I had to call my consultant and have her give the driver directions to the school at that point. Think about that for a minute - my consultant had to give the taxi driver directions. I got to the school, thank the gods, and then had to call my consultant again because, lucky girl that I am, I was being held hostage by the driver who didn't know how much to charge me. She had to yell at him to charge me SOMETHING so we could all move on with our days. He finally did (the taxi fare gets added back into my pay so, yay, no worries there) and I went into the school where I got to teach the wildest, most ill behaved class in creation. It was a year three class so the munchkins were like eight years old but with the monstrous attitude of twelve year olds. It was a HORRIBLE day.
On the bright side, Thursday and Friday I was at a Catholic school my roommates frequent and, thank all the gods, the classes on both days were great, the students so awesome and well behaved I almost cried for the reprieve.
And then came the weekend. The weekend with The Hobbit and Nandos peri-peri chicken and shopping with Christa. It was a beyond needed break after a week of almost pure hell. Thank the gods.