This will be a quick post, as I am writing it to distract myself temporarily from the horror of my diary for the upcoming half term.
In just 24 short days, I am teaching a lot of lessons, doing eleven observations, hosting a leadership session, visiting four schools, overseeing four debating competitions, running a borough wide Geography Bee, taking my 30 babies to visit their PenPals in Lincolnshire, taking them out to the marshes in Hackney to do some tree hugging, organising three conferences, presenting at two conferences, attending one conference AND (weird one to finish) taking two of our star orators to debate against business magnates at a swanky breakfast in the Wolseley Hotel in Mayfair.
Whilst feeling perpetually able to breathe, I know that this kind of thing suits me. Someone described Pierre Bourdieu as having a ‘brilliant but butterfly mind’. Whilst mine is nothing as brilliant, and whilst I have no other similarities with the obfuscating habitus-peddler, I like to think I also have a butterfly mind. No slug mind for me, no sir. Moving slowly towards one outcome, one goal at a time drives me to boredom within seconds. I flit about and manage to get more done when I have twelve things going at once.
As my mentor once said to me, if you want a job done, give it to a busy person.
A problem I used to have which bubbles to the surface every now and again pertains to my inability to finish (stop it, euphemists). I excel at the sparkly exciting moment of conception, creativity and newness but left to my own devices, I get bored and focus on other newer things. I was helped to recognise this in myself at a TeachFirst event a few years back called the Primary Leadership Projects.
What I realised is that by forward planning at the very beginning of a new thing, I could ensure my enthusiasm is not front loaded. As such, I can manage Lord knows how many odd tasks, roles and responsibilities all at once, just so long as when my butterfly mind first settles on a new leaf, it decides then and there what it needs to do before it flutters off. This way, I can produce more of that sweeeeeeeet scholastic honey.
Back to the hive now.