The Compartmentaliser Vs the Juggler
Regular readers will know that my mother thinks the DH is a spy. Mum came to this bizarre conclusion about my husband's profession because: a. her rich imagination errs on the dramatic and b. my husband never talked about his work. I know, of course, that my husband is not, and never was, a spy, but simply a man who can compartmentalise to breath taking effect. For the DH there is a work life and there is a home life and the twain will never meet. This skill is something he is trying to teach yours truly right now. He is of the opinion that I will go completely bonkers if I don't compartmentalise - or in other words, keep school at school and home at home. I think he is right but compartmentalising does not come naturally to me, I don't have one of those brains. I deal with and process bits of information en masse, as it were, reacting and thinking, brain constantly planning ahead. I can teach Shakespeare whilst thinking about my children's teeth and if the lasagne will have defrosted before tea. I can mark Year 9 books whilst helping with phonics homework and giving instructions on the proper care of the rabbits. I'm not a genius, of course, just a woman. Not a compartmentaliser, but a juggler. I can juggle many varied and differing balls, keeping them in the air with either a masterful sense of grace or a barely competent, higgledy-piggledy, hotch-potch of a show. The DH can only manage two balls at a time: the ones God gave him: but oh boy, he is the stone-cold-solid-king of compartmentalising. Which begs the question: is juggling really a female trait and is compartmentalising a masculine trait? Answers on a postcard, if you please, gentle reader.
In Which She Discusses Sundry Matters Using the Time Honoured Bullet Point as a Presentational Device: A device Which Brings Pleasure to the Scan Reader and Speed of Execution to the Lazy Writer
Regular readers will know that my mother thinks the DH is a spy. Mum came to this bizarre conclusion about my husband's profession because: a. her rich imagination errs on the dramatic and b. my husband never talked about his work. I know, of course, that my husband is not, and never was, a spy, but simply a man who can compartmentalise to breath taking effect. For the DH there is a work life and there is a home life and the twain will never meet. This skill is something he is trying to teach yours truly right now. He is of the opinion that I will go completely bonkers if I don't compartmentalise - or in other words, keep school at school and home at home. I think he is right but compartmentalising does not come naturally to me, I don't have one of those brains. I deal with and process bits of information en masse, as it were, reacting and thinking, brain constantly planning ahead. I can teach Shakespeare whilst thinking about my children's teeth and if the lasagne will have defrosted before tea. I can mark Year 9 books whilst helping with phonics homework and giving instructions on the proper care of the rabbits. I'm not a genius, of course, just a woman. Not a compartmentaliser, but a juggler. I can juggle many varied and differing balls, keeping them in the air with either a masterful sense of grace or a barely competent, higgledy-piggledy, hotch-potch of a show. The DH can only manage two balls at a time: the ones God gave him: but oh boy, he is the stone-cold-solid-king of compartmentalising. Which begs the question: is juggling really a female trait and is compartmentalising a masculine trait? Answers on a postcard, if you please, gentle reader.
In Which She Discusses Sundry Matters Using the Time Honoured Bullet Point as a Presentational Device: A device Which Brings Pleasure to the Scan Reader and Speed of Execution to the Lazy Writer
- I have been weighed, measured and found GOOD, by the much feared Ofsted inspector. I am fit to teach, goode huswives.
- I would like to draw my reader's attention to the new BBC television show When Romeo Met Juliet - featuring (ahem) a certain big city school.
- Although I'm doing a lot of moaning at the moment I can see that my foray into the world of work is doing me some good. I know what it's like to be the breadwinner - I take my hat off to all of those who have been doing it for years. I always thought my old fella was an all round good egg, but now I think he's a bit of a bloody hero - it's a weight to carry and it needs broad shoulders...mine are a bit feeble and slopey and long for part time work!
- The DH has an interview on Thursday to work in a local cathedral. If you are the praying type, I'd appreciate a few flung our way.
- Bakers may enjoy this rhubarb and cinnamon cake (delicious) and this coffee and ginger cake (Dan Lepard is a baking genius).
- And finally, for a bit of fun, I draw your attention to The Chap Manifesto.
Anon, new friends and old, and have a good weekend!
3 comments:
Dear friend - you are right, woman are designed by the Almighty to multi-task, but men cannot do this.
Further corollary [demonstrated by phone conversations between DH and brother, and self and SIL] Men speak to pass information, women converse just for the sake of it, and to build relationships.
Re Oftsed , we all KNEW you were GOOD [probably Excellent when not under the stress of observation!!] and we are glad it has been officially noted.
Thoughts and prayers with your DH as he goes for interview.
Enjoy last day of half term! Love and blessings x
Highly amused by The Chap Manifesto. Perhaps I could point my husband that way, he's forever buttoning up his weskit in the wrong manner indeed!
Vis-a-vis compartmentalising. I can't do it, my brain is forever mulling over whatever my brain feels like mulling over. No compartmentalising for me, not so much juggling as random thinking - call it a thought-flurry. :)
So glad that the ofsted went super. Praying for the hubster's job and for you too. Still not got my CRB check, sasanfasanrasan! Curse that red tape.
Thought of you when we drove through your county last weekend on the way back from a visit to Oxfordshire. xx
Yes, it's definitely a male-female thing. It's just how we're wired; God's sense of humor, I guess!
Post a Comment