Compostable Kate

I am going to have a lot of spare time on my hands during these uni holidays. My attempts to get some casual holiday work failed, so I have to develop my own program of activities to keep my occupied. This is the start of my list: 1. Sort out my plastic storage containers! 2. Knit all this into socks for Knitting for Brisbane's Needy. 3. Re-read Harry Potter. 4. Get through my To Read pile (this is part of it). Other activities may include: knitting Andy's 2nd sock, teaching Dexter a new trick, and going swimming at least once before next semester.

Well, I didn't wash my dishes, and I didn't go swimming, as I chose to do some uni work instead, but the other things I didn't do are much more constructive: I didn't stay home in my pyjamas all day!  I didn't forget to take my meds on time! I didn't buy or drink any diet coke (it's 10 days now!) I didn't buy or eat that chocolate muffin (although I did give it a good, hard stare). I didn't buy or eat Hungry Jack's for tea (it really only flitted into my mind for a second). I didn't have a nap! I didn't berate myself for being an under-achiever! It's important to celebrate the wins, however small. Gold star for me!

I'm pretty sure that I learned far more on my prac than the students I was teaching. Some of it will stand me in good stead for my next prac, and for when I am a fully-qualified teacher. Some of it was very disappointing and disallusioning. One of the first things I learned was that my supervising teacher no longer wanted to be a teacher, but was sticking with it for a few more years, while her youngest child finishes high school. Another teacher in our staff room was only staying with teaching to boost his superannuation before he retired. Yet another teacher didn't speak to me during my four weeks sitting at the desk next to him, and seemed to dislike all students and the teaching of them. There were frequent discussions in there about students being "not very bright" and "unteachable", including one entire year. No effort was put in to teaching these students, as it was deemed to be a waste of effort. However, imaginative teaching was hampered

This is my own, personal story of my disability and how I have chosen to manage it. My thoughts and choices are in no way a judgement on anyone else's thoughts and choices.    I acquired my painful hip condition in my mid-20s, just after I had started as an undergrad at uni (I was a “mature” student, after failing school and going out to work instead), and started using a wheelchair after about six months of increasing pain and decreasing mobility (I was trying to keep going with my studies). I went through a lot of specialists (you name it, I've probably seen one), only to have no-one able to come up with a specific diagnosis for me. I have lots of weird stuff showing up on MRIs, bone scans, blood tests and x-rays, but nothing that can be put together and conveniently labelled. I was eventually referred to a rheumatologist, someone who specialises in joint issues. I saw the Professor Rhuematologist, and in our first meeting he angered me by saying that he thought my disa