You know that thing I hinted that I might do... That thing where I was going to write a blog post every day in April? Yeah, well apparently I suck at blogging. Three days later, and let's pick up where we left off.
Today, I was required to take charge of a group of approximately twenty five 30-60 year olds, and show them around the college buildings, as part of an alumni tour. They were all alumni who had gone into teaching, and I was there, because I am shortly going to embark upon my teacher training (grades permitting). It was a farcical example of role-reversal, where neither party was particularly comfortable with the role that they were being expected to fill. I took them to the new library, and they wouldn't stop talking. I kept having to tell them to shut up, despite the fact that they are teachers, and I am not even a graduate yet. One of them snorted, "You were BORN to be a teacher, weren't you?!" with that sarcastic, derisive teacher-sneer that I might even take up praying so that I can pray to avoid developing.
It wasn't all bad though. One chap commended me on my efforts at trying to control a large group of people, a woman told me that teaching is the best thing she's ever done, and another woman told me not to be afraid of wanting to teach in private girls' schools, because teaching is a service to society whomever you end up teaching. That made me feel much better about the fact that I think I'll be a much better teacher in that kind of scenario than in an inner city London school - the kind in which I will inevitably end up doing placements on my PGCE. I am desperate NOT to come across as a snobby private-school-girl who is terrified of the real world, but I definitely have doubts about my ability to stand and scream at a bunch of 14 year olds who have an active desire to not learn!
I am still unable to fully comprehend the fact that when I return to Cambridge after the vacation, it will be for the final time as a student. The last time I decorate my room, the last time I pick up my key from the Porters, the last time I have a beginning-of-term meeting with my Director of Studies... I am going to be taking my last Cambridge exams, having my last Cantabridgian summer. I am not going to lie; there have been times in Cambridge when I have been extremely depressed, and there are aspects of the Cambridge system that I find to be very flawed, but I am sure that every Cambridge student will agree with me, that the Cambridge summer just melts all of the work-related, system-related depression away, and replaces it with an idealised, fluffy version of university life. Lucky it ends in the summer then, I suppose. At least the resounding memory will be of fun, sun, and copious jugs of Pimm's.
I will attach a couple of photos from last summer, to get myself into the mood, and take the edge off of my current exam-related-rabbit-in-headlights state.This was taken on the day that we went night-punting. We hired a punt out overnight, and punted up to Grantchester, where we had a pub dinner and then froze under insufficient blankets until morning when we punted home. I was still feeling a punt-like rocking motion, four days later. Dan and Emma are in the foreground, and in the middle is Michaela.
This photo shows my friends who are in a Barbershop group, singing Fever. James (the guy standing up) is singing the words, "what a lovely way to burn", and the guys who are kneeling/crouching, are clicking their fingers in a sultry manner. They were performing at the Music Society garden party, at which I also performed, with my choir. They are always a crowd-pleaser. Strapping young lads...
And here I was, posing like a buck-toothed idiot with bingo-wings, and a battenburg. Look at me go. I had a whimsical picnic with Tilly and Dan, and we made tiny little sandwiches and everything, before gorging ourselves stupid. It was glorious.
Now to get through my exams and have an even better summer, this year!