I stand up from my chair, parked in a semicircle of similar chairs and make my way to the lectern. The faces of the others gathered in this room look at me supportively. I compose myself and start to speak. "hello. My name's Andy..." I whisper. "hello Andy" reply the group in a chorus of encouragement. I fill my lungs with boldness and stale air and continue "...and I'm British and proud". The group gently clap in recognition of the brave step I've just taken. It's not easy to say words like this out loud.
It takes courage in a culture that likes shy away from sentences involving Proud and British. It sounds a bit too BNP or, even worse, Daily Mail.
It takes courage to say it in a culture where being cynical is much cooler than pride in your heritage.
Yet here I am surrounded by red, white and blue flags and balloons, bunting strung up round every corner and even people with union flags shaved into their hair. And not in a "We're British. Foreigners out!" way, but more of a "we are Britain and u r welcome".
The atmosphere has changed so much in the course of a year, I can hardly believe it. I guess it's down to the Jubilee the royal wedding and now the games. It still has taken me a bit by surprise though and I'm glad.
I must admit I do hate the hymn Jerusalem though, but that's because it's a silly song.
So, what are your thoughts?
Are u English Scottish Irish Welsh or British?
Do u feel the atmosphere has changed?
Will this patriotism last?
Answers on a comment box to the usual address.
Friday, 27 July 2012
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
It shouldn't happen to a children's worker
Before I start, I should just point out that I am not a full time children's worker, as will probably become very apparent during the course of this blog. I am one of the many volunteers that spend our free time doing our bit the help out.
I currently find myself as the children's work organizer at our church, which is an amazing privilege, but also causes me to find myself in unusual situations.
The other week was one of those.
After ongoing discussions with a teacher at the local school about how we could promote the children's group in said school, I was somehow persuaded to agree to do an assembly there.
I have only ever driven past the front of what looks like quite a small primary. It's quite sweet looking and I have always imagined it to be have the atmosphere of a typical village school. The teachers were probably just like Miss Honey from "Matilda" and all the children would know each other.
I would only be doing the assembly to the upper half of the school, so it was not going to be too nerve wracking.
As the date of the assembly got near, I met with the teacher to finalize the details. I had thought it a good idea to put a flyer about the group in each child's school bag to take home, so I inquired if the 90 or so flyers I had printed off would be enough.
"Oh, no!" came the reply "They'll be about 400 in the assembly."
400!!! Oh my goodness! This school was evidently some kind of Tardis. How could they even fit in.
I managed to keep my composure and nodded saying something like "OK. I'll print a few more off"
Fortunately one of the group's leaders had said he was off that day and had offered to come along as well. For the sake of this blog we will call him Tim (for that is his name).
I had arranged to meet him at the school nice and early so we could get the technical bits set up. Having been involved in youth/children's work for many years now, I have learnt that setting up is absolutely key. There is nothing worse than stand in front of a number of people staring at you as you frantically hit buttons trying to get something to show on the projector.
This was not going to be an issue, as I was told that the school hall would be free all morning until the assembly. This was great, as not only did I want to show some photos of the group I run, but I had also volunteered to teach the children a new song.
Having two children already attending a primary school (different to the one I was going to) I had heard stories of people coming in & getting them to sing "Kumbaya" which, frankly worried me. I was determined to get them singing a modern & fun worship song. So armed with a video I had made for a song written by my friend Pete Hewlett called "Right up there" I headed to the school nice and early to make sure everything was ready for my assembly debut.
The first issue was that whoever had agreed to keep the hall free had not informed the drama class, who were already halfway through their lesson. "Not a problem" I thought. The had to go out to play for a while before the assembly, so I would still have plenty of time to sort everything out. I made sure the video picture worked well enough, but saved trying the sound until later, as I was sure the drama teacher would not appreciate Rizzle Kicks blaring out as she is trying to keep their attention.
Then we waited, & waited, & waited some more. Finally they started to leave, just as the first children started to file in for the assembly. "What? No playtime?" I panicked. "Let's get this thing started."
I switched on the school amp and heard Rizzle Kicks safely blaring out for about 0.5 seconds before the amp switched itself off.
"Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed inwardly, still showing a calm exterior, except for a panicked look I sent in the direction of Tim. We fiddled around with it and it soon became obvious that the amp was faulty and any noise coming out louder than a rather nervous mouse with laryngitis would cause it to go into standby.
"Don't worry. said Tim, helpfully "The video doesn't matter too much."
"But what about the song we are teaching them?" I replied, feeling the blood drain from my face.
"Oh yeah. I forgot about that" said Tim, rather less helpfully.
There was no time to think out it now. We had to just go for it and hope that the amp, somehow by some miracle, would suddenly remember how to work.
So the assembly started and I spoke about the group, gave the thumbs up for the video and sent up a rather rushed arrow prayer along the lines of "Look God, I'm doing this for You. Can You sort it now, please?"
Up came the video accompanied with a disturbing silence.
What followed consisted of us both trying to get the sound as loud as we could before it tripped out before returning to the front and singing along.
About halfway though the song, it suddenly dawned on me that Tim was miming I was now, basically singing a solo with actions to 400 schoolchildren. I started to have a kind of "out of body" experience, as the further away from me I could pretend to be, the better. I have a passable voice, but it certainly isn't something that anyone would choose to listen to. The only relief, was when my friend, the teacher, (who happened to know the song) offered to play along on the piano as best she could.
The song finished and we did a talk about reaching our goals and sat down as some awards were given out, but all the while wondering what just happened.
We collected our things and headed out towards the exit and, to my amazement, the headmistress asked if we could come back next term and do another one. Well, in the words of D:Ream "Things can only get better".
If you happen to be reading this and were there, I can only apologise and I hope you will, one day, get over the experience.
I currently find myself as the children's work organizer at our church, which is an amazing privilege, but also causes me to find myself in unusual situations.
The other week was one of those.
After ongoing discussions with a teacher at the local school about how we could promote the children's group in said school, I was somehow persuaded to agree to do an assembly there.
I have only ever driven past the front of what looks like quite a small primary. It's quite sweet looking and I have always imagined it to be have the atmosphere of a typical village school. The teachers were probably just like Miss Honey from "Matilda" and all the children would know each other.
I would only be doing the assembly to the upper half of the school, so it was not going to be too nerve wracking.
As the date of the assembly got near, I met with the teacher to finalize the details. I had thought it a good idea to put a flyer about the group in each child's school bag to take home, so I inquired if the 90 or so flyers I had printed off would be enough.
"Oh, no!" came the reply "They'll be about 400 in the assembly."
400!!! Oh my goodness! This school was evidently some kind of Tardis. How could they even fit in.
I managed to keep my composure and nodded saying something like "OK. I'll print a few more off"
Fortunately one of the group's leaders had said he was off that day and had offered to come along as well. For the sake of this blog we will call him Tim (for that is his name).
I had arranged to meet him at the school nice and early so we could get the technical bits set up. Having been involved in youth/children's work for many years now, I have learnt that setting up is absolutely key. There is nothing worse than stand in front of a number of people staring at you as you frantically hit buttons trying to get something to show on the projector.
This was not going to be an issue, as I was told that the school hall would be free all morning until the assembly. This was great, as not only did I want to show some photos of the group I run, but I had also volunteered to teach the children a new song.
Having two children already attending a primary school (different to the one I was going to) I had heard stories of people coming in & getting them to sing "Kumbaya" which, frankly worried me. I was determined to get them singing a modern & fun worship song. So armed with a video I had made for a song written by my friend Pete Hewlett called "Right up there" I headed to the school nice and early to make sure everything was ready for my assembly debut.
The first issue was that whoever had agreed to keep the hall free had not informed the drama class, who were already halfway through their lesson. "Not a problem" I thought. The had to go out to play for a while before the assembly, so I would still have plenty of time to sort everything out. I made sure the video picture worked well enough, but saved trying the sound until later, as I was sure the drama teacher would not appreciate Rizzle Kicks blaring out as she is trying to keep their attention.
Then we waited, & waited, & waited some more. Finally they started to leave, just as the first children started to file in for the assembly. "What? No playtime?" I panicked. "Let's get this thing started."
I switched on the school amp and heard Rizzle Kicks safely blaring out for about 0.5 seconds before the amp switched itself off.
"Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed inwardly, still showing a calm exterior, except for a panicked look I sent in the direction of Tim. We fiddled around with it and it soon became obvious that the amp was faulty and any noise coming out louder than a rather nervous mouse with laryngitis would cause it to go into standby.
"Don't worry. said Tim, helpfully "The video doesn't matter too much."
"But what about the song we are teaching them?" I replied, feeling the blood drain from my face.
"Oh yeah. I forgot about that" said Tim, rather less helpfully.
There was no time to think out it now. We had to just go for it and hope that the amp, somehow by some miracle, would suddenly remember how to work.
So the assembly started and I spoke about the group, gave the thumbs up for the video and sent up a rather rushed arrow prayer along the lines of "Look God, I'm doing this for You. Can You sort it now, please?"
Up came the video accompanied with a disturbing silence.
What followed consisted of us both trying to get the sound as loud as we could before it tripped out before returning to the front and singing along.
About halfway though the song, it suddenly dawned on me that Tim was miming I was now, basically singing a solo with actions to 400 schoolchildren. I started to have a kind of "out of body" experience, as the further away from me I could pretend to be, the better. I have a passable voice, but it certainly isn't something that anyone would choose to listen to. The only relief, was when my friend, the teacher, (who happened to know the song) offered to play along on the piano as best she could.
The song finished and we did a talk about reaching our goals and sat down as some awards were given out, but all the while wondering what just happened.
We collected our things and headed out towards the exit and, to my amazement, the headmistress asked if we could come back next term and do another one. Well, in the words of D:Ream "Things can only get better".
If you happen to be reading this and were there, I can only apologise and I hope you will, one day, get over the experience.
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