Laura Carr is enjoying her new job as a general studies lecturer, but it’s hard work. Running to keep up As always. I feel that time is flying and I’m just about managing to hold on. Monday to Friday goes by in one big blur and then the weekends go even faster so I don’t get all those chores done.
My week consists of teaching about twenty different classes, either 45 minutes or an hour long. I do seminars, a couple of lectures and some portfolio-building sessions. I teach the same classes several times over and I see over four hundred students each week, which I think is why my days seem to go by in such a spin. When I’m not teaching, I’m either hovering in a relatively student-free corner nibbling on my sandwich, or trying to claim someone else’s computer as my own (I’m still waiting for my own computer to arrive) and trying to get a bit of prep work done. I’m trying not to take work home with me during the week, because I’m also studying for my Certificate in Education, which means I have work stuff to do at the weekend. Teenage kicksOverall, I’m still really enjoying my job and I feel lucky to be working somewhere that I like so soon after I’ve come back. Teenagers are a funny lot though; they look a lot like us young adult-types but I’m constantly amazed by how odd they can be. They try to get sex, drugs, boobs, naked hussles and hangovers into every conversation. I could understand it if I thought they were pushing the boundaries and trying to shock me, but it’s like they just can’t help themselves, whatever comes into their minds, they just say it. Then there’s the massive energy swings from hyper to downer to hyper again within the space of one class. And now we’re a month into term, new relationships are starting to form and snogging couples litter the hallways, doorways and lifts. Were we ever that… adolescent? I’ve only got one and a half weeks to go until half term, although since I’m teaching in an FE college I don’t get to have the same holidays as the students. At least without the students there, I’ll have a bit of time to take stock and get prepared for the next six weeks. Marathon effortOther than acclimatising myself to teenagers over the last few weeks, I’ve also been training for the Great North Run. A couple of weeks ago the big day finally arrived. My sister and I set out really early in the morning to make sure we wouldn’t miss any of the build-up, but it turns out that everyone else had the same idea. The metro trains were jam packed and we had to wait for an hour before we managed to squeeze on. Predictably, we got there late and by the time we reached our gate, they’d closed it! So we ended up having to hop over the fence somewhere right near the back of the mass of people. Consequently, we didn’t even start moving until a good half hour after the run actually began. Even worse, I only got to see Carol Vordamon on the big screens - I was hoping to see her in person! Anyway, once we made it across the start line and the crowds dispersed a bit, we started our official run. All along the route, bands were playing and local people were out there supporting the runners. The sweetest supporters were some kids who had set up an ice-pop-stop! Thanks to the adrenalin and Lucozade Sport, the first nine miles went really well, and my sister and I couldn’t believe how well we were doing. But then, just after the nine-mile point, things took a turn for the worse. To be more specific, my right knee took a turn for the worse - it just kind of collapsed under me. I ended up being strapped up by the St. John’s Ambulance people at the side of the road on two different occasions and running-hobbling in excruciating pain for the last four miles! Those last four miles were pure hell, and I was so worried that I’d done permanent damage to my knee, but since I’d promised that I’d give up TV and tea if I didn’t make it past the finishing line, I worked through the pain regardless. Needless to say, I was virtually immobile the next day, and the day after that, but now I’m just about recovered. It must be like child-birth because the memory of the pain has been eclipsed by my sense of achievement and I’ve already decided to put myself through it all next year (with a bit more training, and a knee support thingy). Mid-life crisis?Now I don’t have to worry about running on the evenings anymore, at least for a couple of weeks, I’m now on a serious mission to find the perfect match for my cat Charlie. I’m off to visit a potential friend for her within the next couple of days, which I’m just so excited about. I’ve settled into my job, the Run’s over, I’ve almost bought a car, I’m one step closer to getting another cat, what’s going to happen when all of these things I’ve been looking forward to are over? If I squint hard enough, I can see a quarter-life crisis on the horizon... See Laura's earlier writings |
