I have been thoroughly inspected. Twice. (-luckily neither the lesson in which we were discussing the impossibility of imagining Celine Dion at orgasm- I shudder at the thought now, just recollecting the conversation and ensuing impersonations- nor the one in which we were all sharing "embarrassing moments I have known/caused" and I tripped over my own feet and broke a reasonably expensive piece of equipment, thus adding to my [long] list of shame... but a fairly "worthy" effort which looked as though it had "learning objectives" clearly communicated and fitted in to the main scheme- and was deathly, deathly dull to teach...) In addition, my marking has been looked over, my record-keeping sniffed at and some of my students grilled about me... and no, they are not allowed to tell me what they said, I am not allowed to ask, and the only feedback I can get is in the written report, seeing as my line manager declined the verbal debriefing on my behalf. Bastard.
The jury is out to consider its verdict.
Ho hum...
Am I feeling happy, confident and that "quality" has been assured? Am I bumgravy...
Gizza job.
Go on. Gizzit.
Whatever you do, I could do that ...
*head butts screen*
1 comments:
Oh, the thrill of inpections.
I can only nod in a sympathetic manner, and maybe sigh a little.
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