Blog Ergo Sum

2006-03-23T00:57:00.000Z

feeding the kid to a passing dinosaur

Sebastian James Views the World

2005-10-24T08:19:00.000Z

2005-10-08T10:52:00.000Z

Rosie in her Sunday-Go-To-Meeting Dress!

2005-09-24T21:11:00.000Z

Appomattox Ahab Byrd - being solemn

2005-06-21T06:35:00.000Z

Rosie and her Daddy - just before she wowed us with her doggy-paddling skills!

BBC NEWS | World | Africa | City names mark changing times

2005-05-27T12:39:00.000Z

BBC NEWS | World | Africa | City names mark changing times

Another Year, Another Blog....

2005-05-22T11:05:00.000Z

Here it is nearly a year after I last posted on my blog. I was explaining what a Blog was to a class the other day, and that got me feeling guilty about not having posted here in such a long time. So...what to talk about?

I watched Garden State on DVD last night. Granted, I'll watch anything set in New Jersey, but I thought this was a gem of a film, nonetheless. I've read reviews saying that the second half is trite, formulaic, banal and predictable. I bet those reviews were written by men. I LOVED the part where the characters were doing a frantic dance to avoid the flaming arrow. I LOVED Large's deadpan response to seeing himself in the mirror, apparently wearing wallpaper. I LOVED the part where the characters screamed into the abyss. And most of all, I LOVED that part where Large had begun to feel again, and when he made the right decision, and (spoiler coming) got off the plane.

If the film was trite, formulaic, banal and predictable, I guess I just like trite, formulaic, banal and predictable. So shoot me.

Nothing To Declare :: The Friday Project Blogs The Media

2005-05-22T10:44:00.000Z

Nothing To Declare :: The Friday Project Blogs The Media Another Media Blog - but this one isn't aimed at A Level Students. Still - broaden your minds, and check it out. Just don't tell anyone I gave you this link.

RSSMedia's NMT Blog

2005-05-22T10:29:00.000Z

The FANTASTIC RSSMedia's NMT Blog If you're one of my students, visit this site at once and start revising ASAP!

Once more into the breach...

2004-07-20T19:45:00.000Z

I spoke too soon. I just had a phone call from the Chief Examiner of Media Studies 'A Level' asking if I'd agree to grade more examination papers. I asked how many were left, and she laughed darkly and said, "You don't want to know." I thought about it for a minute. School has ended, so I can mark all day which means it will probably only take me four or five days. At £3.26 per exam script, that will mount up to a tidy sum. I found myself agreeing to mark another two hundred or so. The Chief Examiner was embarrassingly effusive in her thanks.

I guess this all means that my marking is up to scratch. Yay me. Alternatively, it could just mean that the exam board is really desperate.

Either way, it looks like I'll be getting that yummy monitor pretty soon. It costs just about what I'll make on the extra marking. Does this make me a computer-peripheral whore?

Hoo-ray...Hoo-ray...it's a Holi-holi-day!

2004-07-20T16:15:00.000Z

Well, at long last school is over for another year. Mind you, none of us has really been teaching for the last week or so. It's impossible to get the kids to focus on anything remotely academic at this time of year, so there's a tendency to 'cave' and shove something raucous and colourful into the DVD player. The practice is almost universal. I was walking across the playground with a colleague yesterday, lugging sacks of SATs papers back to the Exam secretary (We're sending the whole lot back for re-marking, but that's another story) and out of every classroom we passed we could hear the noise of videos pouring forth. We cackled at the sucky taste of the Science Department. From the open Lab Four windows Annie was plaintively singing that the sun would come out "Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow."

At least in the English Department we have the sense to show them something cool like "School of Rock." ("The Coolest Film This Year" according to Time." )

I had a cover lesson first period. The Head of Design and Technology was apparently lying down with a migraine, and would I mind sitting in on her Year Sevens who would be no trouble at all, they were just going to be playing the Board Games they'd been devising for the last few weeks.

My heart sank but over I went. I must say I was impressed with the quality of some of the games I saw when I arrived. There were the Trivial Pursuits clones, and the Monoploy clones and the Snakes and Ladders clones, all drawn lovingly with carefully designed counters and game pieces and laminated boards. Some of them had really come up with very original ideas. There was the one where you collected rubbish as you went around the board, dropping it off into big bins en route. The person who picked up the most rubbish won.

My favourite was the 'Find the Murderer' game. (These kids have been watching too much CSI.) The student had drawn a range of suspects in a Police Line-up. They were all different heights, ages, sexes and colours and each held a particular weapon - from sub-machine guns to a knife dripping blood.

The quizmaster had to decide in advance which one was the actual murderer. Then each player got to ask three questions to see if they could spot the right felon. Lots of larcenous fun was had by one and all.

But enough for now. It's nearly time for Big Brother's Little Brother and I intend to do nothing for the next six weeks, apart from watching TV, reading a zillions books, playing on this Blog and spending some of that hard-earned Examination Marking money as soon as it filters into my bank account. I have my eye on a 19 inch LG Monitor.....

The end is nigh....

2004-07-16T22:29:00.000Z

Actually, the end has come and gone. I finally finished all of my exam grading. It's taken me nearly three weeks and as usual, I've vowed that I'll never, never, never do it again. However, I suspect that next year will find me with another four-hundred A Level papers on my doorstep.

Here are some of the highlights:

On student was focusing on Stuart Hall's reception theory; an approach to textual analysis which allows for a measure of "negotiated" or "oppositional" readings of the media text by the audience, as opposed to their total 'dumb' acceptance of the "preferred" reading. Trouble was, the student had forgotten what a "negotiated" reading was. Having successfully described the concepts of "preferred" and "oppositional," he finished with: "There's another kind of reading but I can't remember what it's called."
He then drew a little sad face!

When things like that happen, it makes me realise that A Level students are still kids, really. Sometimes they're cheeky kids, however.

One student's essays were full of little parenthetical asides aimed at me - at the examiner. For instance, after a particularly lengthy and erudite quotation he wrote: "I can't believe I actually rememberd that correctly!"

Then, after deftly sumarising the range of post 1990 broadcasting regulations and their impact on the medium, he concluded with: "If I've forgotten anything else, can you please assume that I know it, but that I've just run out of time."

And speaking of running out of time - it's nearly midnight, so I'm posting this and going to bed - with a final comment on Big Brother.

AHMED'S OUT. YAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!

Thank Heavens for Virgins...

2004-06-26T12:11:00.001Z

The Virgin Train Line, that is. If it weren't for Virgin, I'd probably still be sitting on a Silverlink train in Birmingham - the English one - where I went yesterday to a moderation meeting on the Exam marking I'm in the middle of. The idea is that you all grade photo-copied (Xeroxed) exam scripts which have already been assessed by the Team Leaders. You then have the humiliation of having to announce to the whole group what grade you've given an individual student for each question. After everyone has gone through this ordeal, you are then told what the official grade is, with the reasons.

At the start of the meeting, there are wild differences between what the Graders think and what the Officials tell us is the actual standard, but by the end of the day we're usually pretty close to each other. This goes on for hours. I was doing great until the last set of papers, when my grades were wildly at variance with the rest of the table, and with the offical examiners. It's really thrown my confidence.

Anyway, after a long day of it, a group of us shared a taxi back to Birmingham Train Station, only to discover that there were delays on most lines. I found myself wedged on a stifling and over-crowded Siverlink Train listening to a recorded voice telling me that 'Due to circumstances beyond our control, all trains are delayed for an indefinite period." A fire in a signal box turned out to be the problem. I found out later.

Anyway, after an hour of listening to this frustrating message, some kind soul stuck his head in the carriage and shouted that Virgin would accept our tickets. Up we all got, and like children following the Pied Piper, we chased after the bearer of good news to another platform, where a lovely Virgin Train sat humming quietly on the track.

What a difference. Air conditioning. Spacious double seats facing one another, separated by full size tables. I settled into a comfy seat and soon made friends with my fellow refugees.

Accross from me was an Afro-Caribbean mother with her little girl. The latter was wearing red "I love Jesus" hair baubles on her many plaits. She sat there drawing butterflies on a piece of paper which she shyly offered as a gift to the woman sitting next to me.

This woman turned out to be a Cambridge graduate who worked "in television news" - how interesting! We talked all the way back to London about this and that. She'd travelled in India. She had a four-year-old named Dylan (after the poet, not the folk-singer) When she found out what I'd been doing in Birmingham, she was interested in knowing what was on the Media Studies A2 exam paper. I whipped a copy out and she studied the question on news: "What factors determine the style and content of radio and/or television news?"

We looked at the examiner advice on potential ways this question could be approached, and luckily she agreed that each and every one of them was valid.

That's a relief, anyway. Nothing like verification from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

And now I've got to stop these delaying tactics and get on with my grading.

For those people who think Media Studies is a 'joke' subject....

2004-06-23T18:01:00.000Z

For evidence of the contrary, may I submit the following excerpt from an essay I graded this afternoon. The question was: Discuss the reasons why films adhere to and extend the conventions of a particular genre. Students have to answer three questions in two hours. No notes are allowed:

This was part of a student's response to the above question:

Generic conventions such as iconography, stereotypical characters and settings can be used as a shorthand between the film maker and the audience to avoid wasting time on exposition. In the Western, for instance, the audience know that guns represent the necessity of violence, that the horse is freedom, that the stranger riding into town is a loner who would be stifled by society, that the dark-haired Mexican woman is dangerous and that (if the mise-en-scene suppports this) the setting is the later 1800s American West. Therefore, it is not necessary to explain all of these things. Audiences base this knowledge on their experience from other films of the same genre, and with every new film they see, their knowledge is slightly extended as new conventions are introduced or subverted.

Hollywood films can be said to have linearity of cause and effect within an overall trajectory of enigma resolution, joined to a high degree of versimilitude and temporal and spatial cohesion. What differentiates films within the same genre (and makes them worth seeing) are the themes, conventions and symbols which are updated each time in response to the dominant ideology of the period.

The above student wrote over thirteen pages in the two hours - and all of it matched or exceeded the above standard. Not bad for a teenager working in exam conditions.

What a pleasure it is to give someone full marks (100%) on the first day of marking!

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death...

2004-06-22T21:03:00.000Z

Why do I do it? Is the money really worth it?

The postman arrived this morning with the first batch of 'A Level' Exam Scripts, along with a copy of the question paper and a mark scheme. As usual, I feel queasy at the thought of what I've let myself in for. I'm an examiner for the A2 Media Issues and Debates paper, and I've got to get all four-hundred of the scripts marked and sent back to the Chief Examiner by the 14th of July. Bastille Day. I wonder if there's any symbolism in that. Liberté? Egalité? Fraternité?

Perhaps not.

Anyway, while I was checking off the scripts against the attendance registers, I had a quick peep at the first questions done on each paper. Every student seems to have opted to answer on Soap Opera. Not surprising, really, as the question was a bit of a gift: Discuss the strategies used by British soap operas to attract large audiences."

I'll probably be struck dead for admitting this, but I'm actually looking forward to getting stuck in. I've done all the preliminary work, to wit:

I've checked the scripts against the attendance registers - all present and accounted for.
I've read and highlighted the mark scheme
I've read and highlighted the level descriptiors
I've memorised the numerical breakdown for each level
I've sharpened more pencils than any human could ever possibly need.

Now all I need is a good night's sleep and a few free periods to work in.

Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach....

2004-06-21T19:23:00.000Z

All of the teaching staff at the school had an email from Head of the Sixth Form today. (For any Americans reading, the final two years of High School in the UK are Years Twelve and Thirteen. However, these two years are generally referred to as the Lower and Upper Sixth Form, for complicated historical reasons that I don't have time to go into.)

Anyway, Liz asked if anyone had an area of expertise they'd be willing to share with next year's Lower Sixth students. Something to enrich their learning, which could be taught at the rate of two lessons a week in four-week blocks.

Quick as a flash I emailed her back and said that I'd love to set up a Blog workshop. I shoved in a link to the Guardian Annual Blog Awards and pointed out that there was an Under Eighteen category. I hinted that beneath the unpromising exteriors of our rather disreputable-looking students, the heart and soul of a Pepys might be lurking.

For good measure, I also provided a link to Magnetic Kid Liv's Blog, because it makes for compulsive reading, and because it's the sort of Blog I would have written if they'd existed in 1965 when I was seventeen and trailing clouds of angst behind me.

Now I just have to keep my fingers crossed, and hope that my offer gets the go-ahead from the powers-that-be. (OK. I admit it. I'd do just about ANYTHING not to have to teach that vile Year Ten Study Skills Unit again next year. I wonder if Liz takes bribes?)

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?

2004-06-20T09:49:00.000Z

No they bloody shouldn't, is the answer! In recent weeks I've renewed an auld acquaintance, thanks to the internet. Her maiden name was Diane Horning, and she found me via the Classmates Website. We both went to Oak Grove School for Girls, a long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. Well - in the state of Maine, in 1963.

Alas, Oak Grove is no more. I'm not surprised, actually. It was too good for this world. The school was trapped in some kind of elegant Victorian time warp. Included in the 'essentials' list we had to bring with us on arrival were napkin rings, skis, jodphurs, ball gowns and long white gloves. When we had dances with a neighbouring Boy's School, we used dance cards hanging daintily from our wrists to keep track of our beaux. (My beaux were very limited in number, but I seem to recall that Diane's Dance card was full!)

The school had its own ski slope, riding ring and tennis courts. Classes were tiny - maybe twelve or fifteen maximum - and the teaching was superb. (My enlightened English teacher had us reading Yevtusheko and Ferlinghetti, as well as the usual Shakespeare and Austen.)

Memories of Oak Grove remain etched in my mind for other reasons, however. It was at Oak Grove that someone with a contraband radio came sobbing into the dormitory to announce the Kennedy assassination. It was there that I discovered my real love of literature - a love that shaped my future life. It was there that I had the mysteries of S.E.X. explained by girls who turned out to be spectactularly misinformed. I'm going to quote now from the letter I sent Diane when she contacted me last week:

It's so wonderful to hear from you! I remember the year I was at Oak Grove so vividly - you and Selden especially, naturally. So many images are etched on my brain. That 'oil' you used to put on your hair! Our girlish voices singing grace before meals. Popovers with brown-sugar butter. The JFK assassination. Creeping out into the hall after 'lights out' to read 'Lady Chatterley's Lover.' Fighting with Selden about the existence or otherwise of God. Those two girls who gave themselves third degree burns under the infra-red lamp in the nurse's office. Getting my ears pierced by somebody or other who used a sewing needle and a bar of soap to do the deed! You trying to teach me to play tennis and giving up in exasperation, saying that it was like teaching a "blind spastic!"

Ah happy days!

Happy Days indeed. I have so much to thank the internet for. And Diane - if you're reading this, you owe me a letter!

Tempora Mutantur

2004-06-19T08:45:00.000Z

Tempora Mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis: The times are changed and we are changed with them...." said the Latin poet Nicholas Borbonius. Bob Dylan's version was much catchier. You better start swimming / Or you'll sink like a stone.

I am reminded of Alvin Toffler's book Future Shock. To quote from an Amazon.com reviewer: "The notion that an entire populace in a post-industrial society could find their capacity to adapt to their own (especially technological) developments outstripped by the very pace at which these devlopments occur is an idea that is even more supremely relevant today than when Toffler first identifed the phenomenon back in 1970."

I have my doubts. I'm adapting just fine, thank you very much. I can't imagine how I ever managed to teach without handy-dandy new technology, for instance. Now I regularly plug my laptop into the Interactive Whiteboard and using a Powerpoint Presentation I've downloaded from the net, I can launch into a lesson on Women and Language which keeps the class riveted and makes me look and sound like the University Lecturers I so-envied in the past.

Oh happy day.

Future schock, future shmock. Bring it on, I say.

War in the Big Brother House - Fit the Second

2004-06-17T14:01:00.000Z

It was as I suspected. Emma wasn't able to keep from confronting Victor and a fight apparently broke out in the house. In an unheard of move, television coverage was suspended and security guards had to be brought in to break up the warring couple.

To be honest, I thought the producers of BB5 were playing with fire. They deliberately engineered a very volotile mix of contestants. The original farrago included the following pairings: an ex-Asylum Seeker, and a Law student with no time for "council house scum" or "Asylum scroungers." A left-wing feminist and a right wing male chauvinist. A quietly spoken 'genteel' girl and a raucous Portugese Transsexual.

You get the idea.

The plan was to confine these mis-matched beings in an extremely inhospitable enviroment and then crank up the psychological torture. (BB5's version of the Ten Plagues of Egypt has so far included ice-cold showers for one contestant, suspending other housemates over stinging nettles, water and raw eggs in one victim's bed - not to mention the shirt filled with itching powder or the cake made with a jar of chili powder.)

It's hardly surprising that this mixture was going to combust.

I hope the producers of BB5 are heavily insured.

The Bedsit Babes Return - Fit the First

2004-06-16T21:27:00.000Z

Yes - I admit it. I'm already addicted to Big Brother Five. I'm expecting blood to be shed in the next few minutes, when Michelle and Emma return to the unsuspecting fold.

It's interesting, this reality TV phenomenon. One theory is that it's an extension of the Soap Opera. The idea is that Soaps are the closest thing to Documentary Realism, and the Big Brother type of format gives you the same voyeuristic pleasures provided by the Soap Text, with the added frisson provided by the knowledge that you're seeing 'real' people not actors reading scripts.

Hmmmm.....I'm not convinced. Well - they're real people, all right - but they're pretty much all still playing roles. Stu even does it in a quite literal way. So far this week he's been Tiger Boy and today he morphed into Super Stu. Bless.

Playtex Moonwalk

2004-06-15T19:03:00.000Z

My daughter-in-law Lizzy and I took part in a 26.2 miles Moonwalk for Breast Cancer Research,along with 15,000 other women, on May 15th - all wearing decorated bras. It took us ten hours, but we managed to complete the full marathon. Yay us.

The walk began at midnight, in Hyde Park. Parts of the course were really lovely: passing a flood-lit Buckingham Palace at one in the morning, and later on seeing Big Ben from the South Bank as the sun rose over the Thames. But mostly it was a bit of a nightmare. Neither of us had done enough practice and we were soon limping and blistered and exhausted.

The low point was Lizzy fainting while we stood in a 200-strong queue waiting to pee in one of the FOUR porta-loos that were provided. (!) High point was seeing the sign at 26 miles. It read: "Your medal is waiting for you!"

Although it's a month today since we did the walk, I've still got blisters on both feet. Memo to self: in future don't attempt a 26.2 mile walk in sandals. Socks might also be a good idea.