We had Mayor election yesterday. Yep! We could have elected a new mayor in our town, but guess what - we elected the old one that cannot always behave and who has only learned a little how to speak in public over his two mandates of being a mayor. Oh well ... I have no trust or very little in any kind of politics anyway. He's not THAT bad and who knows if his opponent is actually any better. More elegant, yes and a much better speaker and the old one is independent while the one "not meant to be" (obviously) had the support of five parties. Seeing it written just now - maybe he deserves to remain in this position.
The other thing about this election that I find interesting is the new mayor of one of our coastal towns, Piran. I didn't find it that strange, seeing it on the news, hearing him represent himself, hearing people say all those nice things about him. I wasn't astonished or not even surprised to hear that he won the election. But now that I see all those foreign articles, I think to myself: "Well, maybe it is just a little unusual after all". Anyway, he seems to enjoy the trust of many people and that's what matters. He's just as likely to prove them right or wrong as anybody. Don't you think? See for yourself:
The Hindu
Reuters
BBC News
etc. etc.
Monday, 25 October 2010
Sunday, 5 September 2010
Back to ...
... school, mostly. And blogging. My summer break was very full this year (what on earth have I been doing?) and I somehow didn't feel like writing. Besides I've been waiting for my weekly dosage of chuckles, but the connection with Canada has broken down, apparently. I hope not. I hope Skye simply doesn't feel like writing and will change her mind the way I have.
Anyway, in summer I didn't really go anywhere. I organized one of my "virtual classrooms" in Moodle with about fifty or sixty exercises. I think it will help me during the year. I will be able to assign some homework that will practically get corrected by itself. Cool!
I've been shooting a lot. It's funny how this sport makes you active, although it doesn't really look that way. Well, it does. You can actually sweat. You have to pull this string - mine takes 28 pounds of force to pull. A hundred times in a row - maybe two hundred, walking 40 metres to the target and 40 back - or 50 or 60 one way... You do get some exercise.
I've been to Croatia. Not to the seaside, like many other Slovenians, but to an archery competition. And I actually won a medal, LOL! I loved it! I was shooting at 40 metres with my barebow and made quite a few hits and got some constructive criticism which should have helped me. It didn't really - according to the next competition, 900 rounds which took place yesterday. Well, there will be others and I can practice. And HAVE FUN. It's funny how women meet in these competitions. About my age, shooting barebow - we are mostly the mothers of younger archers. Surprise, surprise. You just try and take your child to an archery practice and wait for an hour or so - watching archery. ARCHERY!! I'm telling you, this is definitely one of the most boring sports to watch. TO WATCH, I said, not to do. I was happy for my Main Squeeze yesterday, though. Marko was quite good and won a bronze medal. Yaaay!
At school we finished what we started last school year. A boy passed the exam he had to in order to get a 2 in English (Our grades: 1 - insufficient, 2 - sufficient, 3 - good, 4 - very good, 5 - excellent). He did. Good! He could go to his chosen secondary school then. I wish him good luck, knowing there will be some tricky parts on his road to success in life, though.
Conferences, new plans, constant changes. One of them was that three of our colleagues retired. I'll write a little about that. Not now, though, I'm already getting too long.
Hope you're all okay and adapting successfully to the new rhythm with the school going on again. That's life - what would holidays be without school?
Take care and don't forget to have fun!
Anyway, in summer I didn't really go anywhere. I organized one of my "virtual classrooms" in Moodle with about fifty or sixty exercises. I think it will help me during the year. I will be able to assign some homework that will practically get corrected by itself. Cool!
I've been shooting a lot. It's funny how this sport makes you active, although it doesn't really look that way. Well, it does. You can actually sweat. You have to pull this string - mine takes 28 pounds of force to pull. A hundred times in a row - maybe two hundred, walking 40 metres to the target and 40 back - or 50 or 60 one way... You do get some exercise.
I've been to Croatia. Not to the seaside, like many other Slovenians, but to an archery competition. And I actually won a medal, LOL! I loved it! I was shooting at 40 metres with my barebow and made quite a few hits and got some constructive criticism which should have helped me. It didn't really - according to the next competition, 900 rounds which took place yesterday. Well, there will be others and I can practice. And HAVE FUN. It's funny how women meet in these competitions. About my age, shooting barebow - we are mostly the mothers of younger archers. Surprise, surprise. You just try and take your child to an archery practice and wait for an hour or so - watching archery. ARCHERY!! I'm telling you, this is definitely one of the most boring sports to watch. TO WATCH, I said, not to do. I was happy for my Main Squeeze yesterday, though. Marko was quite good and won a bronze medal. Yaaay!
At school we finished what we started last school year. A boy passed the exam he had to in order to get a 2 in English (Our grades: 1 - insufficient, 2 - sufficient, 3 - good, 4 - very good, 5 - excellent). He did. Good! He could go to his chosen secondary school then. I wish him good luck, knowing there will be some tricky parts on his road to success in life, though.
Conferences, new plans, constant changes. One of them was that three of our colleagues retired. I'll write a little about that. Not now, though, I'm already getting too long.
Hope you're all okay and adapting successfully to the new rhythm with the school going on again. That's life - what would holidays be without school?
Take care and don't forget to have fun!
Sunday, 16 May 2010
Bloggers' Meeting
Before I had this blog, I used to write another one. In Slovene, my mother's tongue. I stopped posting there some time after I started posting here. Just happened.
My brother had a blog way before I did.
Through blogging you get to know people. From their posts and from their comments. There is this blogger, Bin (short for Albin) who writes poetry. And WHAT POETRY! I just love it. So I still sometimes write a comment or two under his posts. Or to my brother’s.
So this blogger, Bin (short for Albin), decided it was time for us to get to know each other. He invited us to get together. It was a very open invitation. It soon seemed there would be about eight or ten people, in the end four turned up – including Bin. And two more later.
It is strange, how you can talk to people easily when you know them from their words already. So we talked over a drink. Then we got into one car and Bin took us to a place he wanted to show us. He planned for the day, you know. Not just the meeting, but what we were going to see and do.
So he took us through this village and then up. And up. On a dirt road. Through the forest. Then he stopped and we walked some more.
We came to this little church. It was built in 1916. During the World War 1. The soldiers built it in memory of their deceased fellow soldiers. It makes you think. There are names on wooden plates inside the church. Hungarian names, Croatian, Slovene, Bosnian, you name it. Austrio-Hungarian at the time. Young men who were pawns on the board of some self-centered old men who thought they had the right to decide about other people’s lives. I don’t know how many died on the Soča front line. A LOT.
Click for a picture
The church is made of stone and wood. And there was a guy who knew a lot about it and couldn’t stop talking. But he was a good guide to listen to.
Click for another one - the amazing interior
After that we descended to the car, had a bite and then took our torches and went on – on foot – to some bunkers. They originate from the time between the two wars when this part of Slovenia was under Italy. So there were these bunkers to protect the border.
It is impressive. We only saw a bit, but it goes under the surface of the ground and it is actually huge. And they had their own little power station. Everything was well built. But they should have never been there in the first place.
Some people want to open this to the public (not just random visitors like ourselves) as a sort of a museum. Others believe it is too painful and should be left as it is or blown up. They were built in order to make the region Italian. History’s a bitch. It can be quite emotional, you know.
We went back to the car, drove to an inn and had a nice meal, talking about all sorts of things. Than our host showed us what he did before he retired (Sixty? Yeah, right! Fifty, maybe. Nope, he’s sixty.) He showed us some really old machinery at the railway station. Fascinating. Since there are really few trains (four or so every day) and because everything works just fine, they still use some of the things that were installed back in 1906. Wow!
By that time, the last two bloggers joined us. A married couple and parents of ten. They only had two with them. They invited us to their home. So we walked again, but not more than ten minutes. Up. Everything is up around here. A nice house, nice tea, the muffins I had made the night before, the cheese and other stuff they offered.
More talk. Some poetry. From a book of one of us. Bin also read a poem. A fantastic one. I really don’t know how he puts that together. My brother didn’t read anything. Me neither. But my brother, too, writes well. Stories. Many like them. So much, that they actually persuaded him to publish them. They’re coming out in a month or so.
After a while we said goodbye and left.
I was the driver. My brother and I got home around eight. Well, he did. I had to continue for 45 minutes to get to my home.
I felt tired but pleased.
I wonder what would I would be doing if I had stayed at home.
No pictures today, sorry. Too many in the past, says Blogger. I'll try to fix that. Be patient. Okay? Thanks.
My brother had a blog way before I did.
Through blogging you get to know people. From their posts and from their comments. There is this blogger, Bin (short for Albin) who writes poetry. And WHAT POETRY! I just love it. So I still sometimes write a comment or two under his posts. Or to my brother’s.
So this blogger, Bin (short for Albin), decided it was time for us to get to know each other. He invited us to get together. It was a very open invitation. It soon seemed there would be about eight or ten people, in the end four turned up – including Bin. And two more later.
It is strange, how you can talk to people easily when you know them from their words already. So we talked over a drink. Then we got into one car and Bin took us to a place he wanted to show us. He planned for the day, you know. Not just the meeting, but what we were going to see and do.
So he took us through this village and then up. And up. On a dirt road. Through the forest. Then he stopped and we walked some more.
We came to this little church. It was built in 1916. During the World War 1. The soldiers built it in memory of their deceased fellow soldiers. It makes you think. There are names on wooden plates inside the church. Hungarian names, Croatian, Slovene, Bosnian, you name it. Austrio-Hungarian at the time. Young men who were pawns on the board of some self-centered old men who thought they had the right to decide about other people’s lives. I don’t know how many died on the Soča front line. A LOT.
Click for a picture
The church is made of stone and wood. And there was a guy who knew a lot about it and couldn’t stop talking. But he was a good guide to listen to.
Click for another one - the amazing interior
After that we descended to the car, had a bite and then took our torches and went on – on foot – to some bunkers. They originate from the time between the two wars when this part of Slovenia was under Italy. So there were these bunkers to protect the border.
It is impressive. We only saw a bit, but it goes under the surface of the ground and it is actually huge. And they had their own little power station. Everything was well built. But they should have never been there in the first place.
Some people want to open this to the public (not just random visitors like ourselves) as a sort of a museum. Others believe it is too painful and should be left as it is or blown up. They were built in order to make the region Italian. History’s a bitch. It can be quite emotional, you know.
We went back to the car, drove to an inn and had a nice meal, talking about all sorts of things. Than our host showed us what he did before he retired (Sixty? Yeah, right! Fifty, maybe. Nope, he’s sixty.) He showed us some really old machinery at the railway station. Fascinating. Since there are really few trains (four or so every day) and because everything works just fine, they still use some of the things that were installed back in 1906. Wow!
By that time, the last two bloggers joined us. A married couple and parents of ten. They only had two with them. They invited us to their home. So we walked again, but not more than ten minutes. Up. Everything is up around here. A nice house, nice tea, the muffins I had made the night before, the cheese and other stuff they offered.
More talk. Some poetry. From a book of one of us. Bin also read a poem. A fantastic one. I really don’t know how he puts that together. My brother didn’t read anything. Me neither. But my brother, too, writes well. Stories. Many like them. So much, that they actually persuaded him to publish them. They’re coming out in a month or so.
After a while we said goodbye and left.
I was the driver. My brother and I got home around eight. Well, he did. I had to continue for 45 minutes to get to my home.
I felt tired but pleased.
I wonder what would I would be doing if I had stayed at home.
No pictures today, sorry. Too many in the past, says Blogger. I'll try to fix that. Be patient. Okay? Thanks.
Monday, 3 May 2010
Imperative
Tomorrow I'm going tto start with imperative in grade six. You know, the structure (even if it's almost too simple to be called that) for giving orders and instructions. Like they listen to orders. Or instructions. Huh! Okay, most of them do. The loud ones don't and they give the wrong impression of the class.
There is this material in the textbook. Like "be quiet! or "do your homework" and "tidy up your room" and o on. Good. A bit boring, though, isn't it?
So I thought I might use something to just break the monotony. I hate monotony. Children don't like it either. Besides, it doesn't work.
I found this great video, full of imperatives (among other things). I'm sure they will like it, but how much will they understand.
I think I'll just let them listen two or three times (not in a row) and then try to get some feedback. I'm sure they will remember three or four imperatives. Many more, some of them. And the rest will (hopefully) remember what imperative is all about.
So - what do YOU think?
Imperative in music
There is this material in the textbook. Like "be quiet! or "do your homework" and "tidy up your room" and o on. Good. A bit boring, though, isn't it?
So I thought I might use something to just break the monotony. I hate monotony. Children don't like it either. Besides, it doesn't work.
I found this great video, full of imperatives (among other things). I'm sure they will like it, but how much will they understand.
I think I'll just let them listen two or three times (not in a row) and then try to get some feedback. I'm sure they will remember three or four imperatives. Many more, some of them. And the rest will (hopefully) remember what imperative is all about.
So - what do YOU think?
Imperative in music
Thursday, 22 April 2010
Highlights of the Week
- We cleaned Slovenia in one day - Saturday 17th - at least that was the title of the whole action. The organizers expected about 200 000 people to take part, 250 000 turned up. Cleaned a lot of mess. I felt proud of all of us doing such a great job and ashamed at the same time: what's the matter with us? Tyres, shoes, beer cans (the winners!), plastic bags, gloves, yoghurt carton - I mean how on earth does somebody decide to just throw these things away by the road? And into the ditch? And in the bushes? Where everything could (and should) be nice and clear!
- My head doesn't give me a break. I've had a headache for about a week - not all the time, but it sure comes by every single day and stays for hours. When I complained about it (I was seen taking an Aspirin), my colleagues said I was getting old. We laughed about it, but they weren't joking really.
- I almost got a 900€ fine because of bad tyres. Our car is only six months old! I actually have to pay 150€ for something else (thanks, officer!). I'll buy new tyres tomorrow. I wanted to on Tuesday, but it is written in the car's papers that it need tyres that can take 240 kmph! Geez! We only own a Chevrolet Aveo
(yes, just like this one, only usually it's dirtier and it has beige interior) and we live in Slovenia! I'm not allowed to drive over 130 kmph anywhere! And if I were, I couldn't! Because this is me and because our car doesn't go that fast
- My son asked me to teach him some more English, saying: "Will we study English together, mum? I really don't think I'm learning much at this school of ours." It warmed my heart. This is not that child of mine you know, who studies English and Slovene at the university, but the other one who barely passed many of his English tests in primary school! And failed some of them. I wanted to help him, but he always started preparing for the next test one day before (wouldn't listen to his nagging mum who knew nothing about it anyway) and it was often too late. He doesn't have any problems with it now at age 18 (his grade is usually 4 or 5 out of 5), and he has actually realized it would be good to know more of it. I'm making a plan for him...
- It's Earth Day. Two of my colleagues studied geography at the university (one of them majored in history and teaches history now) and today is actually their birthday! How cool is that? At our school you alway get a flower for your birthday (in a pot) and the B-day people usually bring something good to eat. Same today.
- I have finally learned to hit the target from 55 metres. The target, I say, not the yellow part of it, although that happens sometimes, too. And the bowstring only hurts my forearm once or twice in two hours. And because of different anchoring (due to the distance), even my nose is safe. Yay!
- Due to the national holdays next week (27th April and 1st May) we are having a week off - Spring break, so to say. So this is the afternoon before the last working day for some time. Yay again!
Monday, 12 April 2010
A Special Day
Lying in my bed - not mine, really, but you get it - I was trying to comprehend what had just happened. I was just a silly girl, I felt quite serious and yet immature, responsible, but rather childish in a way. Not much different from the sixteen-year-old that I used to be and definitely not much different from that eighteen-year-old I was just two years before.
And yet, they trusted me with this tiny little being that I had just brought to this world. Should I feel guilty? Wasn't it irresponsible to do so? No matter how I should feel, I know I felt blessed. I thought I would be exhausted, but my eyes wouldn't close. They remained wide open almost till morning. Too much to take in.
Her first moments were so special: She just looked around as though she wanted to say: "So that's what it looks like out here..." A hiccup, a sneeze, no crying, no fuss...
A childbirth - an event so common in the existance of the mankind and yet it is so special in every woman's life. A new step in her life, no matter the circumstances.
Wondering if it shoud happen sooner or later, does not really matter. Should you wait till you have a job? And a house to live? Should you hurry and not wait till you're thirty or forty? So that you do not have a teenager when you're over fifty? Is it better to be a young mommy - not too serious - or a bit older - and more mature?
Whatever is better I know one thing: this particular child could be only born at that time, right? Genetics and stuff... And she has always been my sunshine... Wouldn't change her for anything.
As a small child she could always surprise me. As only little children can. I remember one day (she was about to get a brother, so she wasn't three yet), drawing and asking me:
"Mum, why do we have bell buttons?"
"Well, when the baby is inside, they cannot eat, so there is this cord from mum to the baby. That's where the baby gets the food."
She draws and after a moment or two she adds:
"But then chicks don't have belly buttons, do they?"
I never had to help her with her homework... and yet, we sometimes "study together" now that she's at the university... I'm glad to listen to the stuff I should know but have forgotten... How many mums can have that pleasure? And this is just one of the many little things I like about her.
She's all grown up now. She thinks with her own mind - as she always has and as I've always wanted her to. I don't always like her opinions... but that's anoher story. I'm not supposed to, right?
The only problem now is - what should I get her for her birthday? I'll try to cook something nice (but that's not a present yet), but I'm not much of a cook...
I'll try to think of something. However successul or unsuccessful I may be, I do wish you
A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY,
dear!
And yet, they trusted me with this tiny little being that I had just brought to this world. Should I feel guilty? Wasn't it irresponsible to do so? No matter how I should feel, I know I felt blessed. I thought I would be exhausted, but my eyes wouldn't close. They remained wide open almost till morning. Too much to take in.
Her first moments were so special: She just looked around as though she wanted to say: "So that's what it looks like out here..." A hiccup, a sneeze, no crying, no fuss...
A childbirth - an event so common in the existance of the mankind and yet it is so special in every woman's life. A new step in her life, no matter the circumstances.
Wondering if it shoud happen sooner or later, does not really matter. Should you wait till you have a job? And a house to live? Should you hurry and not wait till you're thirty or forty? So that you do not have a teenager when you're over fifty? Is it better to be a young mommy - not too serious - or a bit older - and more mature?
Whatever is better I know one thing: this particular child could be only born at that time, right? Genetics and stuff... And she has always been my sunshine... Wouldn't change her for anything.
As a small child she could always surprise me. As only little children can. I remember one day (she was about to get a brother, so she wasn't three yet), drawing and asking me:
"Mum, why do we have bell buttons?"
"Well, when the baby is inside, they cannot eat, so there is this cord from mum to the baby. That's where the baby gets the food."
She draws and after a moment or two she adds:
"But then chicks don't have belly buttons, do they?"
I never had to help her with her homework... and yet, we sometimes "study together" now that she's at the university... I'm glad to listen to the stuff I should know but have forgotten... How many mums can have that pleasure? And this is just one of the many little things I like about her.
She's all grown up now. She thinks with her own mind - as she always has and as I've always wanted her to. I don't always like her opinions... but that's anoher story. I'm not supposed to, right?
The only problem now is - what should I get her for her birthday? I'll try to cook something nice (but that's not a present yet), but I'm not much of a cook...
I'll try to think of something. However successul or unsuccessful I may be, I do wish you
A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY,
dear!
Sunday, 11 April 2010
A New Life
Wonderful news came on Thursday: one of my nieces has just had a daughter!
My mum has 12 grandchildren and now, at the age of 70, she has the first great-grandchild.
My niece is only a year older than my daughter. It lets me know that time is flying, but so does everything else around me. This baby girl is the first in the next generation. As I remember my own childhood, I also remember that of my children and their cousins. We talk about one incident or another with nostalgia. The very clever things one or the other said, how naughty they could be sometimes and how they made us laugh. If there was a confirmation or a first communion, one of the ways of celebrating was also a small and cosy concert - by my brother and his daughters and anyone that was willing to sing along - my sister's daughters or my kids. In summer my kids sometimes had some holidays at my mum's and they pulled out the couch and some five or six kids slept there - not because of lack of space, mind you. Things like that. It happens that one of my children or myself start a sentence: "Remember that time when..." and say something about one of the cousins and the time they spent together.
Well, one of them is a mommy now. Not the oldest one. And the baby is called Julija (pronounce: Yuhliyah). And my not yet 45-years old brother is a grandpa and the granny, his wife, is even younger (41) and there are FIVE new aunts and so on and so on. What am I? I guess I'm a great aunt like from one of Charles Dickens' novels... My daughter couldn't wait for this baby to be born and was and is very very happy to hear about her. The only thing tat annoys her now is... she is still just a cousin... of her mum... well, it's still so nice to know abut that little princess, isn't it?
(Julija on her granddad's blog)
My mum has 12 grandchildren and now, at the age of 70, she has the first great-grandchild.
My niece is only a year older than my daughter. It lets me know that time is flying, but so does everything else around me. This baby girl is the first in the next generation. As I remember my own childhood, I also remember that of my children and their cousins. We talk about one incident or another with nostalgia. The very clever things one or the other said, how naughty they could be sometimes and how they made us laugh. If there was a confirmation or a first communion, one of the ways of celebrating was also a small and cosy concert - by my brother and his daughters and anyone that was willing to sing along - my sister's daughters or my kids. In summer my kids sometimes had some holidays at my mum's and they pulled out the couch and some five or six kids slept there - not because of lack of space, mind you. Things like that. It happens that one of my children or myself start a sentence: "Remember that time when..." and say something about one of the cousins and the time they spent together.
Well, one of them is a mommy now. Not the oldest one. And the baby is called Julija (pronounce: Yuhliyah). And my not yet 45-years old brother is a grandpa and the granny, his wife, is even younger (41) and there are FIVE new aunts and so on and so on. What am I? I guess I'm a great aunt like from one of Charles Dickens' novels... My daughter couldn't wait for this baby to be born and was and is very very happy to hear about her. The only thing tat annoys her now is... she is still just a cousin... of her mum... well, it's still so nice to know abut that little princess, isn't it?
(Julija on her granddad's blog)
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