Oh dear. From high up high, to low down low. It turns out that after being selected from the pool, we have been docked 10 points by the New Zealand Immigration Service, and therefore thrown back in the pool with just 125 points - and a significantly slimmer chance of being selected again. D'oh!
Having communicated with a very helpful lady at the NZIS we now understand exactly what went wrong with the process, and are working towards a way of getting plucked from the pool once again. We are only allowed to stay in the pool for six months at a time after which we can re-submit (for a fee $) and hope we get pulled out then. Hopefully, we can update our Expression of Interest before that and get cracking on the process asap.
It's really frustrating at the moment because there is literally nothing we can do to move the process forward. We have already sent our qualifications off to be assessed and they are on their way back, and we are registering with the New Zealand Teaching Council so are stuck! Aaaah!
We will keep plodding on and working away because this is the dream! It's gonna happen!
Sunday, 20 March 2011
Sunday, 6 March 2011
Another comparison
Good morning everybody (Good morning Mr Morris-Adams, good morning everyone). Today, children, we will be discussing primary schools...
As a primary school teacher in England (and having been one for almost five whole years now), I am particularly interested in the way schools work over in Kiwiland. Unfortunately, the first time I visited NZ, teaching little sprogs was pretty far from my mind so I never made the effort to visit any primary schools. However, on a more recent visit, my wife and I were lucky enough to go to my little cousin's primary school for the afternoon to witness Kiwi pedagogy in action. I know, I know, this is a tiny sample and can't possibly represent all the schools in New Zealand, but it is a place to start, isn't it?!
Well, it was certainly different. We were coming to see a Year 6 class going on and from the moment we approached the school we began saying 'you wouldn't see that back home', and 'that's cool!'. First off, our school in Brum has fences all the way around, CCTV covering every inch of the grounds, and to get in you have to either have a magnetic fob or plead your case through a metallic box by the gate. In contrast, the NZ school was open, welcoming, friendly and laid back. When we arrived, my uncle Mick strolled into the classroom, said 'hey' to the teacher and his son Ollie before embarassing him with a big hug and then strolled out again, leaving us to it!
The children were not wearing any uniform (green jumper, grey or black trousers, black shoes at our school), the teachers were more casually dressed (I'm a big fan of this particular aspect of teaching in NZ), the children were running around the grounds having a great time (it was break, and remember they are children), and of course, they had no shoes on. Yep, no shoes. Brilliant!
In the classroom, kids were allowed to sit in chairs, on the carpet, on a sofa(!), or stand if they wished while the teacher was talking. Admittedly this was Friday avo, but when the teacher asked the children to get on with it, they did. Some finished maths work, some tidied up, some finished a project, but they were all 'on-task'. Our kids are usually required to all sit on the carpet with occasional exceptions for broken legs or extreme fidgeting.
We chatted to some of the children and they were mostly eloquent, enthusiastic, and charming - there were some cheeky ones, and some shy ones - as ever. To be fair to our kids, they can be pretty awesome too.
The grounds however, were a different story. They had a huge expanse of grass to play on at break and lunch times (sans shoes, of course!), big classrooms, benches dotted around the place, a basketball court, and a swimming pool. At a primary school. Love it! We have a tiny speck of grass, lots of concrete and no swimming pool...
I know, I can hear you screaming at the computer. Some schools in the UK have lots of grass and no security, and are brilliant, and conversely some schools in NZ are probably run-down and somewhat less appealing. It doesn't stop me wanting to go and teach in New Zealand though. Because one day, just maybe, I may be allowed to wear flip-flops (sorry, thongs) to work!
As a primary school teacher in England (and having been one for almost five whole years now), I am particularly interested in the way schools work over in Kiwiland. Unfortunately, the first time I visited NZ, teaching little sprogs was pretty far from my mind so I never made the effort to visit any primary schools. However, on a more recent visit, my wife and I were lucky enough to go to my little cousin's primary school for the afternoon to witness Kiwi pedagogy in action. I know, I know, this is a tiny sample and can't possibly represent all the schools in New Zealand, but it is a place to start, isn't it?!
Well, it was certainly different. We were coming to see a Year 6 class going on and from the moment we approached the school we began saying 'you wouldn't see that back home', and 'that's cool!'. First off, our school in Brum has fences all the way around, CCTV covering every inch of the grounds, and to get in you have to either have a magnetic fob or plead your case through a metallic box by the gate. In contrast, the NZ school was open, welcoming, friendly and laid back. When we arrived, my uncle Mick strolled into the classroom, said 'hey' to the teacher and his son Ollie before embarassing him with a big hug and then strolled out again, leaving us to it!
The children were not wearing any uniform (green jumper, grey or black trousers, black shoes at our school), the teachers were more casually dressed (I'm a big fan of this particular aspect of teaching in NZ), the children were running around the grounds having a great time (it was break, and remember they are children), and of course, they had no shoes on. Yep, no shoes. Brilliant!
In the classroom, kids were allowed to sit in chairs, on the carpet, on a sofa(!), or stand if they wished while the teacher was talking. Admittedly this was Friday avo, but when the teacher asked the children to get on with it, they did. Some finished maths work, some tidied up, some finished a project, but they were all 'on-task'. Our kids are usually required to all sit on the carpet with occasional exceptions for broken legs or extreme fidgeting.
We chatted to some of the children and they were mostly eloquent, enthusiastic, and charming - there were some cheeky ones, and some shy ones - as ever. To be fair to our kids, they can be pretty awesome too.
The grounds however, were a different story. They had a huge expanse of grass to play on at break and lunch times (sans shoes, of course!), big classrooms, benches dotted around the place, a basketball court, and a swimming pool. At a primary school. Love it! We have a tiny speck of grass, lots of concrete and no swimming pool...
I know, I can hear you screaming at the computer. Some schools in the UK have lots of grass and no security, and are brilliant, and conversely some schools in NZ are probably run-down and somewhat less appealing. It doesn't stop me wanting to go and teach in New Zealand though. Because one day, just maybe, I may be allowed to wear flip-flops (sorry, thongs) to work!
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Comparatively...
With such a long process regarding making a permanent move to New Zealand comes inevitable thoughts along the lines of "Is this really a good idea?", "Should we go to Canada instead?" and "Why on earth are we trying to do this?". To that end, I've been thinking about trying to make direct comparisons between experiences in New Zealand and vaguely related ones in the Great British Isles.
So the first comparison that comes to mind is the renowned Kiwi friendliness. When I first went to New Zealand back in 2000 we found a lovely house in the Grey Lynn/Ponsonby area of Auckland. It was only two days after arriving, and having moved in, a couple of us (8 people were living in the 4-bed house!) were charged with having a look around the neighbourhood to find useful amenities and the like. We found the park, Dairy (like a newsagent for those who don't already know), beach, Indian takeaway, off-license, and launderette. A successful trip, all-in-all, but on the way back to the house for some table-tennis and arguments about the toilet roll, we somehow got chatting to a lovely couple who ran a commercial refrigerator business. They kindly invited us in for a tea and a chat. We explained we were from 'the motherland' and had only very recently arrived. As we chatted they made suggestions about how to get jobs (they even apologised for not having any at their business), where we could get cut-price furniture, where to get good food, and other choice nuggets of information that earned us major brownie points on return to the house! What a pleasant introduction to the area :o) It seemed like a genuine act of kindness, the like of which I had rarely experienced before.
Not to be out-done though, the UK - Brum in particular - has fought back with an extreme (because it was so unexpected?!) act of kindness. My wife and I popped out on the scooters one day, parked up and wondered off for a leisurely stroll, some shopping, lunch and a meet-up with friends. We had a pleasant few hours and too-soon the time came to jump on the scooters and head home. Walking back to the scooter, the Mrs came to realise that she couldn't find her keys. I'd heard this once or twice before so said 'check your bag again". Such a sympathetic husband. After another seemingly thorough check, she was adamant they were not in the bag. Beginning to worry, we quickened our pace fully expecting to turn the corner and see an empty space where the scooter used to be. Rounding the corner past Argos, we were thinking about how we could explain this to the insurance company when we spotted the now lonely scooter parked on the road. Making our way towards it we saw there was a note stuck to the scooter on top of where the keys had been left. In the ignition. The note said:
"To get your scooter back, just give me a call on this number:..."
We couldn't believe our luck. We gave the chap (a young boy of about 16) a call and he happily came by and handed over the keys. He amusingly chastised my wife and said that a few boys had been hanging around the scooter eyeing it - probably only put off from riding away with a free scooter because of the colour - girlie pink. Another surprising act of kindness - this time at home in the UK.
The thing you have to factor in here, readers (any of you out there?!), is that I have spent approximately 9.5 months in New Zealand and as well as the above example I can think of quite a few more where Kiwis have surprised me with genuine kindness. On the other hand, I've lived in England for 30 years (admittedly, I can only really remember the last 20 or so) and am searching my substantial memory banks for similar shows of humanity and coming up blank. Obviously everyones experiences are different and I'm not daft enough to think that everyone in NZ is kinder than the UK or that no-one in England is capable of being thoughtful or helpful, but for me this was at least one reason to give the move consideration...
So the first comparison that comes to mind is the renowned Kiwi friendliness. When I first went to New Zealand back in 2000 we found a lovely house in the Grey Lynn/Ponsonby area of Auckland. It was only two days after arriving, and having moved in, a couple of us (8 people were living in the 4-bed house!) were charged with having a look around the neighbourhood to find useful amenities and the like. We found the park, Dairy (like a newsagent for those who don't already know), beach, Indian takeaway, off-license, and launderette. A successful trip, all-in-all, but on the way back to the house for some table-tennis and arguments about the toilet roll, we somehow got chatting to a lovely couple who ran a commercial refrigerator business. They kindly invited us in for a tea and a chat. We explained we were from 'the motherland' and had only very recently arrived. As we chatted they made suggestions about how to get jobs (they even apologised for not having any at their business), where we could get cut-price furniture, where to get good food, and other choice nuggets of information that earned us major brownie points on return to the house! What a pleasant introduction to the area :o) It seemed like a genuine act of kindness, the like of which I had rarely experienced before.
Not to be out-done though, the UK - Brum in particular - has fought back with an extreme (because it was so unexpected?!) act of kindness. My wife and I popped out on the scooters one day, parked up and wondered off for a leisurely stroll, some shopping, lunch and a meet-up with friends. We had a pleasant few hours and too-soon the time came to jump on the scooters and head home. Walking back to the scooter, the Mrs came to realise that she couldn't find her keys. I'd heard this once or twice before so said 'check your bag again". Such a sympathetic husband. After another seemingly thorough check, she was adamant they were not in the bag. Beginning to worry, we quickened our pace fully expecting to turn the corner and see an empty space where the scooter used to be. Rounding the corner past Argos, we were thinking about how we could explain this to the insurance company when we spotted the now lonely scooter parked on the road. Making our way towards it we saw there was a note stuck to the scooter on top of where the keys had been left. In the ignition. The note said:
"To get your scooter back, just give me a call on this number:..."
We couldn't believe our luck. We gave the chap (a young boy of about 16) a call and he happily came by and handed over the keys. He amusingly chastised my wife and said that a few boys had been hanging around the scooter eyeing it - probably only put off from riding away with a free scooter because of the colour - girlie pink. Another surprising act of kindness - this time at home in the UK.
The thing you have to factor in here, readers (any of you out there?!), is that I have spent approximately 9.5 months in New Zealand and as well as the above example I can think of quite a few more where Kiwis have surprised me with genuine kindness. On the other hand, I've lived in England for 30 years (admittedly, I can only really remember the last 20 or so) and am searching my substantial memory banks for similar shows of humanity and coming up blank. Obviously everyones experiences are different and I'm not daft enough to think that everyone in NZ is kinder than the UK or that no-one in England is capable of being thoughtful or helpful, but for me this was at least one reason to give the move consideration...
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