I had a day off yesterday - visiting Edublogger, collecting my fabby birthday present (too precious to post), lunching at the excellent Shore restaurant and coming home just in time to watch Spooks. Over lunch, we discussed, inter alia, the reasons for someone to blog. Mine are obviously different from the work-based agenda of many of the blogs I read, but I decided that as far as I was concerned I was aping the essayists whose work we used to study in school - Addson, Steele, Bacon. Maybe a touch of Pepys as well.
Actually I loved Bacon's essays, with their terribly quotable lines - "Revenge is a kind of wild justice"; "Men fear death as children fear to goe in the darke" (I'm sure I remember archaic spelling - I must have been an odd child). I once unearthed a set when I was starting off a top Credit class at the start of S3; we read a few and then I set them to write their own essay "Of Homework". The results were amazing - and the class never looked back, accepting from the off that they were going to be challenged because I thought they were up to it. The two year course was one of the best periods of my teaching life, most of it having been spent in a very ordinary comprehensive - these pupils showed how extraordinary they could be.
I look forward to seeing how far my new Nintendo DS Lite can rejuvenate my aging brain - an obvious investment in keeping me (and Mr Blethers, apparently) functioning mentally well into our old age. I shall report on my progress.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Transformation
Just returned from the Singing Workshop in the Cathedral of The Isles, with the Sanctus of the new Kilbride Service ringing in my ears, it is difficult to recount what the weekend meant for me. I organised it, partly to share an experience of singing, working hard and living in a wonderful place which I have enjoyed for 36 years and partly to widen the circle of those who know about the cathedral and want to return to it. I did it through and for another important element in my life, though a more recent one - Cursillo in Scotland. It seems to have been a success - and the results were pretty impressive.
Put together a group of 20 people from all over Scotland - Moray, Edinburgh, Glasgow and Argyll dioceses, from South Uist to Dalkeith - ranging in ages from 40ish to 80ish, who have never sung together before and who in some cases have never done more than sing hymns in church congregations. Work them hard for a day, with vocal exercises, with unison singing, with harmony and with plainsong. At the end of that day, before they stagger exhausted to bed, involve them in singing Compline, entirely in plainsong. On Sunday, they fill the choirstalls and sing a new communion service, on which the ink has just dried, by John McIntosh (aka Mr B, but here operating very much in his own hat) who has by now brought them to such a pitch that they barely recognise themseves. They sing Arcadelt's Ave Maria, in Latin, as a communion motet, and they realise they are achieving a unity.
It was an unlikely thing to do - but it worked. I'm really glad I thought of it (she said modestly) and that I can call on such great musicians as Mr B and our friend Alastair at the cathedral. Talking of modesty - the reading at Morning Prayer (yes - we had that too) today was from Thomas Merton, about humility. About feeling comfortable with the reasons you had done things - at least, that was one angle. This weekend felt good, to me
Put together a group of 20 people from all over Scotland - Moray, Edinburgh, Glasgow and Argyll dioceses, from South Uist to Dalkeith - ranging in ages from 40ish to 80ish, who have never sung together before and who in some cases have never done more than sing hymns in church congregations. Work them hard for a day, with vocal exercises, with unison singing, with harmony and with plainsong. At the end of that day, before they stagger exhausted to bed, involve them in singing Compline, entirely in plainsong. On Sunday, they fill the choirstalls and sing a new communion service, on which the ink has just dried, by John McIntosh (aka Mr B, but here operating very much in his own hat) who has by now brought them to such a pitch that they barely recognise themseves. They sing Arcadelt's Ave Maria, in Latin, as a communion motet, and they realise they are achieving a unity.
It was an unlikely thing to do - but it worked. I'm really glad I thought of it (she said modestly) and that I can call on such great musicians as Mr B and our friend Alastair at the cathedral. Talking of modesty - the reading at Morning Prayer (yes - we had that too) today was from Thomas Merton, about humility. About feeling comfortable with the reasons you had done things - at least, that was one angle. This weekend felt good, to me
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Not blogging but singing
Every teacher knows the sinking feeling when they have a great idea or - if you're an English teacher - a super text and it falls like lead in the class. That's frustrating enough; you feel depressed or challenged depending on the time of year, but you have to keep going. Even worse, however, is when you have a bright student who hasn't realised what hard work is - or who simply isn't interested in improving. Many bright pupils can survive on their wits till about S3; after that success tends to involve application as well as natural ability.
I'm feeling a bit disenchanted today. I know blogs work as a great way of keeping work in English interesting and fresh, an answer to the old question "how do you prepare for an exam in English?" But like everything else, they only work if the pupil produces the original posts. The blog illustrated above, wildbank, has been grinding along in fits and starts because its owner had yet to grasp the concept of "little and often" - and the idea that, as footballers practise ball skills, writers practise writing skills.
I need a new metaphor along the "you can lead a horse to water ..." lines. Suggestions welcome! Meanwhile, I shall remind myself that I have a life, about which I shall blog when I return from another sojurn at The Cathedral of The Isles, where I have organised a weekend Singing Workshop for Mr Blethers to share his magic. I expect we shall all be working hard there, 'cos it's more fun if you do things properly.
Who needs to teach English?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Is there anyone out there?
A strange morning, that - a sense of recording stuff that may never be heard, never read. Going out at 9.30 on such a gloomy, misty morning reminded me of going to work, especially as the Community Radio bods had set up shop in Dunoon Primary School - it seemed small enough to be a cupboard, but may have been an intimately small teaching space crammed with equipment (pictured). I spoke about myself, read some of my poems, played some of my choice of music, sold a couple of my books and had a coffee bought for me - an agreeable way to spend a dreich morning. Small kilted children came and went in pursuit of their competitions (The Mod - remember?) and as we left I could hear the next programme going out in Gaelic.
And then? the stuff that no-one may read? Well, there's always this blog, but I've also put my morning on the One Day in History blog, urged on by the exhortations of Neil Winton. I read the other day that no government had yet fallen through the activities of bloggers, but who knows what future historians may make of such minutiae?
And the day is only half over. I don't know .....
And then? the stuff that no-one may read? Well, there's always this blog, but I've also put my morning on the One Day in History blog, urged on by the exhortations of Neil Winton. I read the other day that no government had yet fallen through the activities of bloggers, but who knows what future historians may make of such minutiae?
And the day is only half over. I don't know .....
Monday, October 16, 2006
Ego again
The ego stepped smartly in today to prevent me from saying "no" to another job - and as a result I find myself preparing to appear live on local radio tomorrow (can you "appear" on a radio programme?). Apparently the tie-in with Mod radio means the local chaps (a genderless word in my current vocabulary) have been given more air-time than they know what to do with, so they quickly hunted round the voluble and the brass-necked and there I was! If you want a wee insight into the Mod in Dunoon, by the way, you can find it here, courtesy of Brian Morton.
I'll be talking about writing poetry, reading some of my stuff, and, I think, having some of my choice of music played, if I can find the relevant CDs in time. The prog goes out at 10am on 87.7 fm - but I think you have to be pretty close to Dunoon - or maybe in a Gaelic area - to get it.
But meanwhile I have a dinner party to cook for!
I'll be talking about writing poetry, reading some of my stuff, and, I think, having some of my choice of music played, if I can find the relevant CDs in time. The prog goes out at 10am on 87.7 fm - but I think you have to be pretty close to Dunoon - or maybe in a Gaelic area - to get it.
But meanwhile I have a dinner party to cook for!
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Sailing in Fidelio
I suppose it was inevitable that I would end up all at sea. After all, when your best pals acquire a boat (a Freedom 21 called Fidelio, to be precise) it's only a matter of time before you discover a need to join them on board, and today was that time. It was unfortunate that the mist never really cleared, though if you click on this pic and look at the rest of the set on Flickr you'll see the wonderful pale pink sunset over the Holy Loch, but I'd made up my mind that I needed some boat photos for possible use as background to a poem which I intend putting on a postcard.
Actually taking photos on a sailing boat isn't easy. For a start, there are a great many ropes (sheets?) and bits of metal which are a vital component of the sailing mechanism, and then there are the welly-clad feet of The Boss, aka Rob, which threaten to land on your head should you move too far from your allotted space. It is difficult to get far enough away from anything to take its picture, so you end up with half mast photos. There is also the small matter of a great deal of water which must not be allowed to come into contact with the camera - you get my drift. But enough of these half-baked puns.
For drift we did not. We were under sail the whole way until the moment of re-entering the marina at Holy Loch; slowly into the wind towards Gourock and then careering gloriously back with the spinnaker out and the boat keeling over and making great gurgling noises. All very exhilarating.
But I may live to regret having my photo taken wearing edublogger's Waverley hat.
Actually taking photos on a sailing boat isn't easy. For a start, there are a great many ropes (sheets?) and bits of metal which are a vital component of the sailing mechanism, and then there are the welly-clad feet of The Boss, aka Rob, which threaten to land on your head should you move too far from your allotted space. It is difficult to get far enough away from anything to take its picture, so you end up with half mast photos. There is also the small matter of a great deal of water which must not be allowed to come into contact with the camera - you get my drift. But enough of these half-baked puns.
For drift we did not. We were under sail the whole way until the moment of re-entering the marina at Holy Loch; slowly into the wind towards Gourock and then careering gloriously back with the spinnaker out and the boat keeling over and making great gurgling noises. All very exhilarating.
But I may live to regret having my photo taken wearing edublogger's Waverley hat.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Life before death
I was involved in a street collection this morning, not something I do very often but much less awful in reality than in the imagination. The Christian Aid collection had me rattling my tinny (can't call it a plasticky) and occasionally adding the words "Life before death" to call attention to myself. The "pitch" I had chosen from those allocated to my church was outside the betting shop - I had wondered if anyone would be there before 11am, but I needn't have worried.
As it turned out, I finished the hour with more in my can than any of the other collectors I met. The betting shop is a great pitch, and the best contributors are not the sleek passer-by from the nearby car park but the patently obviously desperate, the old, the ordinary. Two well-dressed young women passed with no more than a faint smile, while an elderly man, coming out of the shop, said "Ah've nae change - Ah'll be back" - and returned, ten minutes later, to put something in the can. I also give honourable mention to the man who, in response to a rattle from me, said "I'm a good Jewish boy" - but gave me a contribution nonetheless. On the down side, I saw the spectacle of the enormous men - there were several - who would heave themselves from their cars, march into the pub next door, reappear to place a bet and stuff themselves back into the driving seat to leave - all without sparing me a glance.
Life before death is a great slogan - but I wonder what the people we were collecting for would think of our lifestyles?
Friday, October 13, 2006
Compromise and an offer I could refuse ...
It would seem that the Scottish Episcopal church- or at least the bishops thereof - have been slowing down to a walk over the matter of priests and bishops in same-sex relationships, waiting for the next Lambeth Conference to reach its decision on how to proceed. Bishop Martin, over on Following Columba, writes "How can anyone compromise when injustice is being done? Perhaps for some justice seen to be done is more significant and important than the future survival of the Scottish Epsicopal Church as an Anglican Province." I feel that we put our bishops in a very awkward position - it's as if once someone becomes a bishop he/she has by definition to compromise in order to hold all the flock more or less in the same field. I wonder how it'd be if we trusted them and the Holy Spirit a bit more and let them be themselves?
On another tack, I turned down a job today. Two months' work in my old department. I sometimes feel it'd be good to try my new ideas on a class instead of one or two pupils, but realised very quickly how I've come to value my freedom to do what I want when I want. I was also reminded that I would no longer be the well-known scourge of the recalcitrant that I had been, but would have to expend all that energy on re-establishing the persona.
Nope. I reckon you get too old for the job - the full bhoona anyway. Besides, I'm too busy having fun and tussling with moral dilemmas.
On another tack, I turned down a job today. Two months' work in my old department. I sometimes feel it'd be good to try my new ideas on a class instead of one or two pupils, but realised very quickly how I've come to value my freedom to do what I want when I want. I was also reminded that I would no longer be the well-known scourge of the recalcitrant that I had been, but would have to expend all that energy on re-establishing the persona.
Nope. I reckon you get too old for the job - the full bhoona anyway. Besides, I'm too busy having fun and tussling with moral dilemmas.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Discipline and despair
I’m going to drift away from specifically English teaching comment today to take a wander into the area of discipline – or rather indiscipline. I’m thinking of the kind of class that makes a young, talented teacher despair after a few years in the job and decide that she simply can’t put up with low-level indiscipline for another forty years. The kind of S2 class where some little madam thinks it’s ok to say “no” when the teacher tells her to get on with some work, and where a handful of such children can ruin the learning experience for the others and the rest of the day for the teacher.
I believe this is one area where a really good PT (subject) makes a huge difference. I don’t know what it’d be like if the line manager was a more distant figure in charge of several departments – I suspect there would be a dilution of effectiveness. But there are PTs who, as with subject teaching, regard the newly-qualified teacher as being on their own: shut the door, dish your own dirt, make your own discipline. Now, up to a point, that’s what you have to do. You can’t always rely on someone else to bark for you. But there are moments in the most experienced and most able classroom practitioners’s life when she simply has to get rid of a pupil or two so that order can prevail, and that’s where the sensitive and effective organisation of the departmental approach comes in.
I personally recommend the routine organisation of a department – or group of smaller departments – so that every teacher in it knows which colleague at any given moment is free to take in a single pupil or a couple at the most, to work in silence within another class – preferably of another year group. That benefits everyone, and means that every teacher has something to give as well as to receive.
However, there are other strategies which require more specific collaboration. When a class is divided between those who want to get on – with the teacher as well as the work – and those whose only intention is to disrupt and intimidate, it can be a good strategy to divide them physically. The first stage here is to remove the disruptors for one period to another room – preferably the PT’s – to work silently on relevant work which requires only close supervision. The class teacher then has the chance to demonstrate to the rest how a class could be when free from the disruption which has dominated it so far, and in so doing make progress in getting the majority “on side” and confident that in fact they are in the majority. Peer pressure to misbehave is lessened by this recognition, and can in fact be redirected towards the troublemakers.
On a subsequent period it may be possible to reverse the division and take the disruptors on their own - because they are (a) likely to be curious and (b) less likely to carry on without an audience. Whether or not this is done, the end move of this stage is to segregate the disruptors within the class – seated together, however unlikely this may seem – and to address only the cooperative pupils. If disruption occurs in the “ignored” side of the room it must be swiftly and dispassionately dealt with by class exclusion – because they are already at the stage of having been moved within the class. (The nonsense of “three verbal warnings” still seems to prevail in some schools – a management cop-out if ever there was one)
I’ve put all this down here because I happen to have been talking to the despairing young teacher I postulated at the start. This particular teacher is going to be a loss to secondary education – for she sees little future for herself in it. The solutions I suggest have worked for me over the past 10 years or so – but I worked in a department blessed by an extremely pro-active PT who would not allow her staff to suffer at the hands of ill-mannered pupils or ineffective senior management.
I know subject PTs are a dying breed, and I know that not every teacher plays the same cards in dealing with indiscipline – but is there a case in this area as well as in subject teaching for the kind of mentoring that protects the young teacher from the most irritating and soul-destroying aspect of the job? All you promoted staff out there – any comment?
classroom discipline
I believe this is one area where a really good PT (subject) makes a huge difference. I don’t know what it’d be like if the line manager was a more distant figure in charge of several departments – I suspect there would be a dilution of effectiveness. But there are PTs who, as with subject teaching, regard the newly-qualified teacher as being on their own: shut the door, dish your own dirt, make your own discipline. Now, up to a point, that’s what you have to do. You can’t always rely on someone else to bark for you. But there are moments in the most experienced and most able classroom practitioners’s life when she simply has to get rid of a pupil or two so that order can prevail, and that’s where the sensitive and effective organisation of the departmental approach comes in.
I personally recommend the routine organisation of a department – or group of smaller departments – so that every teacher in it knows which colleague at any given moment is free to take in a single pupil or a couple at the most, to work in silence within another class – preferably of another year group. That benefits everyone, and means that every teacher has something to give as well as to receive.
However, there are other strategies which require more specific collaboration. When a class is divided between those who want to get on – with the teacher as well as the work – and those whose only intention is to disrupt and intimidate, it can be a good strategy to divide them physically. The first stage here is to remove the disruptors for one period to another room – preferably the PT’s – to work silently on relevant work which requires only close supervision. The class teacher then has the chance to demonstrate to the rest how a class could be when free from the disruption which has dominated it so far, and in so doing make progress in getting the majority “on side” and confident that in fact they are in the majority. Peer pressure to misbehave is lessened by this recognition, and can in fact be redirected towards the troublemakers.
On a subsequent period it may be possible to reverse the division and take the disruptors on their own - because they are (a) likely to be curious and (b) less likely to carry on without an audience. Whether or not this is done, the end move of this stage is to segregate the disruptors within the class – seated together, however unlikely this may seem – and to address only the cooperative pupils. If disruption occurs in the “ignored” side of the room it must be swiftly and dispassionately dealt with by class exclusion – because they are already at the stage of having been moved within the class. (The nonsense of “three verbal warnings” still seems to prevail in some schools – a management cop-out if ever there was one)
I’ve put all this down here because I happen to have been talking to the despairing young teacher I postulated at the start. This particular teacher is going to be a loss to secondary education – for she sees little future for herself in it. The solutions I suggest have worked for me over the past 10 years or so – but I worked in a department blessed by an extremely pro-active PT who would not allow her staff to suffer at the hands of ill-mannered pupils or ineffective senior management.
I know subject PTs are a dying breed, and I know that not every teacher plays the same cards in dealing with indiscipline – but is there a case in this area as well as in subject teaching for the kind of mentoring that protects the young teacher from the most irritating and soul-destroying aspect of the job? All you promoted staff out there – any comment?
classroom discipline
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
There she blows....
Another first for me today - I saw a whale blowing at the entrance to Loch Long. (No - I didn't take the photo; it took me enough time to run back to the car for the specs to let me see it) By late afternoon there was a small crowd along the Blairmore shore road, all peering out to sea, some with binoculars, and passing drivers narrowly avoiding catastrophe as they tried to see why.
I was struck primarily by the volume of water involved - like an ornamental fountain suddenly being turned on in mid-channel. In a frenetically busy day, a rewarding moment.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Re-entry
Having (more or less) recovered from working on team at a Cursillo weekend, I spent today re-engaging with normal life. I was reminded of the way I felt after the first time I spent a week in hospital having my No.1 baby - I came home and felt I'd been away for a year. Little things like the changes on the telly: in 1974 the Waltons had appeared and I couldn't believe such a saccharine programme existed; this time they've changed the linking sequence on the BBC with equally disorientating effect. (I never really liked the dancers - the two athletic guys on the roof were ok, and the leaping Masai , but the others left me cold.)
I'm not going to talk about the actual weekend here, but you can read the benefits of such an experience on the Cursillo in Scotland blog if you're interested.
The photo here is of the oratory at the Redemptorist monastery at Kinnoull where the weekend took place - a wonderfully peaceful place.
I'm not going to talk about the actual weekend here, but you can read the benefits of such an experience on the Cursillo in Scotland blog if you're interested.
The photo here is of the oratory at the Redemptorist monastery at Kinnoull where the weekend took place - a wonderfully peaceful place.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Drawing a veil ...
I'm going to be missing from the blogosphere for a few days as I vanish into a monastery in Perth with, among others, my pal Di. We'll be senior members of team on a Cursillo weekend, and one thing we'll have no opportunity to do is blog. If we were on a similar weekend in the USA we wouldn't even be allowed to have our mobile phones with us after the first evening - I fear I would have to resort to deviousness. Instead, we'll be busy looking after people and running up and down several flights of very hard stone stairs.
When I return I may well have lost any shreds of educational thought, but I write this now to remind myself that I would like to blog soon about some of the aspects of English teaching that I learned the hard way. I think I would have been a better teacher much earlier in my career if someone had pointed me in the direction I now favour.
But first it's the monastic life. Now where did I put the hot-water bottle?
When I return I may well have lost any shreds of educational thought, but I write this now to remind myself that I would like to blog soon about some of the aspects of English teaching that I learned the hard way. I think I would have been a better teacher much earlier in my career if someone had pointed me in the direction I now favour.
But first it's the monastic life. Now where did I put the hot-water bottle?
Monday, October 02, 2006
On the shoulders of the past
I was asked the other day what I would suggest to prevent the situation where probationers and less experienced teachers seem to have to re-invent the wheel in order to arrive at an equilibrium between creativity and the demands of the curriculum. Having been in an unpromoted post throughout my career in English teaching, there is a sense in which I’ve never had to think about this, but I shall try to do so now.
Rather than publish a massive entry which rambles through all the areas of English teaching and administration, I’m going to break this problem up a bit. This post will look at how I would structure the administrative set-up to assist the development of new teachers.
In the case of the PGCSE student, with a subject degree, doing a one-year post-grad course in teaching, I would suggest that a straightforward approach should be made to ensuring that they know exactly what they will be expected to do when they find themselves in their own classroom the following year. (Remember – I still don’t know exactly how this is taught, merely the outcome). Such entrants into the profession already have the academic qualifications in their subject – it’s vocational training they need at college.
When the newly-qualified probationer arrives in his first school, there seems to me to be the tension between the teacher as authority figure as far as the pupils are concerned (teacher knows best – otherwise why is he teaching me/my wean?) and the teacher as absolute beginner who needs considerable support and encouragement. The new teacher hopes the pupils can’t spot the rawness, but it’s there. It’s like the newly-qualified driver taking to the M8 in the rush-hour – perfectly legal, often done, but not a particularly good idea.
Two things might need changing here. The first is the mentoring available in school. Is the PT necessarily the best person to do this? Is there a Senior Teacher (ie promoted post) from another subject area looking after our English teacher? (Because they might not always be able to address all the problems of departmental know-how and keepy-uppy). Is there in fact someone else in the department who could, if given the time specifically to do this, be a more effective “soul friend” for the new teacher? And is the school smart enough to recognise this? Is everyone in the department aware of the need to support their new (and perhaps temporary) colleague – and are they willing to do this?
The second is the attitude of the new teacher. It is difficult to mentor someone who puts up barriers. It is not out of the question that a new teacher – especially one who had been in, say, business, and has not come straight from his own education – may well behave as if he knows it all already and resents any implication that he doesn’t. This may well be a hangover from the “super-teacher” mentality, when you shut your door and triumphed over any adversity which might assail you. However, this was always a convenient fiction. Colleges of Education, in my opinion, need to remind students of how much they will still have to learn – and about how to ask for assistance.
Disclaimer: remember that I was never in a position to implement any of this, and know little of what is done in colleges now. All I have said here comes from the other end of the process, and is based on observation in one school.
More to follow…..
new teachers
Rather than publish a massive entry which rambles through all the areas of English teaching and administration, I’m going to break this problem up a bit. This post will look at how I would structure the administrative set-up to assist the development of new teachers.
In the case of the PGCSE student, with a subject degree, doing a one-year post-grad course in teaching, I would suggest that a straightforward approach should be made to ensuring that they know exactly what they will be expected to do when they find themselves in their own classroom the following year. (Remember – I still don’t know exactly how this is taught, merely the outcome). Such entrants into the profession already have the academic qualifications in their subject – it’s vocational training they need at college.
When the newly-qualified probationer arrives in his first school, there seems to me to be the tension between the teacher as authority figure as far as the pupils are concerned (teacher knows best – otherwise why is he teaching me/my wean?) and the teacher as absolute beginner who needs considerable support and encouragement. The new teacher hopes the pupils can’t spot the rawness, but it’s there. It’s like the newly-qualified driver taking to the M8 in the rush-hour – perfectly legal, often done, but not a particularly good idea.
Two things might need changing here. The first is the mentoring available in school. Is the PT necessarily the best person to do this? Is there a Senior Teacher (ie promoted post) from another subject area looking after our English teacher? (Because they might not always be able to address all the problems of departmental know-how and keepy-uppy). Is there in fact someone else in the department who could, if given the time specifically to do this, be a more effective “soul friend” for the new teacher? And is the school smart enough to recognise this? Is everyone in the department aware of the need to support their new (and perhaps temporary) colleague – and are they willing to do this?
The second is the attitude of the new teacher. It is difficult to mentor someone who puts up barriers. It is not out of the question that a new teacher – especially one who had been in, say, business, and has not come straight from his own education – may well behave as if he knows it all already and resents any implication that he doesn’t. This may well be a hangover from the “super-teacher” mentality, when you shut your door and triumphed over any adversity which might assail you. However, this was always a convenient fiction. Colleges of Education, in my opinion, need to remind students of how much they will still have to learn – and about how to ask for assistance.
Disclaimer: remember that I was never in a position to implement any of this, and know little of what is done in colleges now. All I have said here comes from the other end of the process, and is based on observation in one school.
More to follow…..
new teachers
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Birthday!
A quick thank-you to all who sent me cards, presents and texts to wish me a happy birthday today. I had a great day over on Bute with a picnic - we've never walked there before - and came home to drink a bottle of champagne and collapse comatose in a manner suited to one so aged.
Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.
Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Teacher training – some questions
What, exactly, do they teach young teachers in teacher training colleges? That isn’t a rhetorical question, however Victor Meldrewish it may sound: I’d really like to know. Because I don’t know about other subjects, I’ll stick to my own – English – because it’s in English teaching that I’ve become aware of some of the horrors.
I’ll come clean right away and admit that my own recollections of my PGSE course (not that we called it that – I can’t recall that we had a name for it) are hazy. I remember some apparently despair-crushed lecturer telling us that it was a good idea when confronted with a wildly unruly class to “exhaust the response”. I also remember that at the time we found that hilarious. The reality, of course, is far from hilarious, and with hindsight I know what he meant. But I want to talk today about the actual subject-teaching content of these courses.
This is the scenario: a new teacher (male, youngish); a supposedly Credit S4 class. Many of the people in the class have already had two such teachers in their school career to date; both have moved on. They are still doing Standard Grade, so five months from now they will have to submit a folio of their best work, according to tightly specified guidelines. Ideally at this stage they would already be in possession of such a folio, requiring only to upgrade and/or replace pieces that they can improve upon. But this is not the case – for it takes someone who really knows what they are doing to ensure that they have accomplished this in S3.
They need to know exactly what they are doing, and why. At this stage, it is not ideal to dabble in randomly-chosen pieces of literature, doing a vaguely-targeted critical appraisal of this and that, not really having it assessed, not really being told how to improve it, not actually knowing if this could be a folio piece or not – and if not, why not. And yet I know for a fact that I am describing a real situation, one which will affect the future paths of many bright students.
So what should be happening? The teacher needs to be very clear in his own mind at this stage what exactly he is trying to do. He has two tasks: (1) to prepare his pupils for an exam and (2) to encourage them to widen their horizons while at the same time equipping them to deal with any text they will come across. This will, in time, include tax returns and passport applications, financial documents and their wills – we’re not just talking Shakespeare here.
I realise I could go on about this – and may well, in a later post - but I want to come back to my original point. Are student teachers told clearly what they must do at different stages in a school? How specific are the lectures they attend? I know from my own recent experience that students are encouraged to be innovative (at least in some quarters) – but what about the clear vision of what a teacher of English is actually trying to do? And then how to do it? And what to avoid? Perhaps then we wouldn’t have the pitiful spectacle of bright kids with a pathetic bundle of inadequate work and no sense of direction – and by that I mean not actually knowing if they have to finish a piece of work or if it will ever be assessed.
From what I have seen on the blogs of student teachers, there is a tendency to high-flown academic language about texts and teaching. I think there is a real need for telling it like it is – and equipping young teachers with the tools they will need when the future of 100 or so kids will depend on their abilities. We don’t expect our young doctors to mess up for the first year or so of solo work – we expect them not to kill us as they learn. Is teaching less important?
After all, you may have an aspiring brain surgeon in your class ….
I’ll come clean right away and admit that my own recollections of my PGSE course (not that we called it that – I can’t recall that we had a name for it) are hazy. I remember some apparently despair-crushed lecturer telling us that it was a good idea when confronted with a wildly unruly class to “exhaust the response”. I also remember that at the time we found that hilarious. The reality, of course, is far from hilarious, and with hindsight I know what he meant. But I want to talk today about the actual subject-teaching content of these courses.
This is the scenario: a new teacher (male, youngish); a supposedly Credit S4 class. Many of the people in the class have already had two such teachers in their school career to date; both have moved on. They are still doing Standard Grade, so five months from now they will have to submit a folio of their best work, according to tightly specified guidelines. Ideally at this stage they would already be in possession of such a folio, requiring only to upgrade and/or replace pieces that they can improve upon. But this is not the case – for it takes someone who really knows what they are doing to ensure that they have accomplished this in S3.
They need to know exactly what they are doing, and why. At this stage, it is not ideal to dabble in randomly-chosen pieces of literature, doing a vaguely-targeted critical appraisal of this and that, not really having it assessed, not really being told how to improve it, not actually knowing if this could be a folio piece or not – and if not, why not. And yet I know for a fact that I am describing a real situation, one which will affect the future paths of many bright students.
So what should be happening? The teacher needs to be very clear in his own mind at this stage what exactly he is trying to do. He has two tasks: (1) to prepare his pupils for an exam and (2) to encourage them to widen their horizons while at the same time equipping them to deal with any text they will come across. This will, in time, include tax returns and passport applications, financial documents and their wills – we’re not just talking Shakespeare here.
I realise I could go on about this – and may well, in a later post - but I want to come back to my original point. Are student teachers told clearly what they must do at different stages in a school? How specific are the lectures they attend? I know from my own recent experience that students are encouraged to be innovative (at least in some quarters) – but what about the clear vision of what a teacher of English is actually trying to do? And then how to do it? And what to avoid? Perhaps then we wouldn’t have the pitiful spectacle of bright kids with a pathetic bundle of inadequate work and no sense of direction – and by that I mean not actually knowing if they have to finish a piece of work or if it will ever be assessed.
From what I have seen on the blogs of student teachers, there is a tendency to high-flown academic language about texts and teaching. I think there is a real need for telling it like it is – and equipping young teachers with the tools they will need when the future of 100 or so kids will depend on their abilities. We don’t expect our young doctors to mess up for the first year or so of solo work – we expect them not to kill us as they learn. Is teaching less important?
After all, you may have an aspiring brain surgeon in your class ….
Thursday, September 28, 2006
A special place
A break from thinking about education today. Instead we were up at the crack of dawn and off to spend the day on Arran. My favourite glen - probably anywhere - is Glen Sannox, a perfect glaciated U-shaped valley. Until recently, it was also an extremely muddy hike, as the water drains off the surrounding hills on its way to the burn and sits in the peaty hollows on the floor of the glen. However, it has in recent years been attacked by the National Trust, who have made a wonderful job of creating a natural-looking gravel track over the bogs, with drainage ditches channelling the water to the burn and huge rocks ensuring that the channels remain firmly defined. So now a walk that used to consist of much leaping and cursing among the tussocks has become a pleasurable experience - and the state of the boots at the end of the day is noticeably cleaner.
Perhaps it is the extreme wildness of the glen which has always attracted me, or the looming shapes of Cioch na h-Oighe, Caisteal Abhail and Cir Mhor which bring the cloud hanging over the centre of the island, or the thrill of finding the excavated whinstone dike which is the key to the route up The Saddle at the head of the glen - I can't pin it down. But I know that today, when we had only a few hours on the island which I regard as my other home, it was Glen Sannox that I wanted to spend these hours in. I have never been there so late in the year, when the bog myrtle is losing its heavenly perfume and the bracken is turning, but I should like to return in winter, to see the mountains under snow.
Living here in Dunoon, Arran is always visible, filling the road through Innellan, looming above Bute when seen from Toward. I never see it without wanting to be there. Today, I was.
Perhaps it is the extreme wildness of the glen which has always attracted me, or the looming shapes of Cioch na h-Oighe, Caisteal Abhail and Cir Mhor which bring the cloud hanging over the centre of the island, or the thrill of finding the excavated whinstone dike which is the key to the route up The Saddle at the head of the glen - I can't pin it down. But I know that today, when we had only a few hours on the island which I regard as my other home, it was Glen Sannox that I wanted to spend these hours in. I have never been there so late in the year, when the bog myrtle is losing its heavenly perfume and the bracken is turning, but I should like to return in winter, to see the mountains under snow.
Living here in Dunoon, Arran is always visible, filling the road through Innellan, looming above Bute when seen from Toward. I never see it without wanting to be there. Today, I was.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Class blogs: the flies in the ointment
I’ve done a good deal of thinking recently about the practical uses of blogs as a teaching tool in the English classroom, and a summary of this will be appearing shortly in Coming of Age #2. But having arrived at the stage of seeing so clearly how such a tool could save hours of repetitive note-making for formative assessment, I began to look at why it doesn’t seem to be taking off. After all, it’s not exactly rocket science (no pun intended, but I quite like it)
Let’s postulate an English teacher, with a pretty academic S4 class. She sets up a class blog for working, say, on a Critical Essay. (During the S4 course, she may set five such essays) The pupils use the blog to assemble their ideas, collaboratively at first, but gradually moving towards the point where each individual is working on his/her own essay. And gradually the teacher’s comments will become the kind of thing that in the past she will have been writing on the pupils’ scripts as they submitted them – formative assessment.
Now, as I see it, part of the joy of this is that the comments will be available for others in the class to see and benefit from; in fact the teacher could highlight points which were more widely beneficial by putting them in a post instead of a comment, with indication, perhaps, of exactly which pupils need to heed this post. But there’s the rub – maybe. For the comments are there for not just the class to see, but the teacher’s line manager, the headteacher, the parents, other teachers ….. and so on.
If a teacher doesn’t really go in for helpful comments on a pupil’s work, if she merely ticks and grades and throws it back for the hapless pupil to make it better all on his own, then that kind of teacher isn’t going to want to blog. If a teacher is uncertain actually of how to tell a pupil to improve their writing and prefers to leave a vague comment rather than expose her own uncertainty, then that teacher isn’t going to want to blog. Most principal teachers in fact have little time to inspect the ongoing assessment within their department, and laying down ground rules about how teachers actually assess individual pieces is all very well but hard to enforce. But if each teacher in a department had their assessment in the public domain – indeed, their whole year’s work in literature and writing on record for all to see – who is the winner there?
The answer has to be the pupil. Not just because of the benefits I’ve already discussed elsewhere – the permanent record, the sense of audience – but also because their teacher will be equally aware of audience. There will be no chance to shut the classroom door and hide the evidence in the cupboard. And it may be that this is the big fly in the ointment for the teacher unwilling to go public. Maybe blogs are just too open – not for the pupils we spend so much energy “protecting” from the big bad cyber-public, but for the majority of teachers who prefer to keep their work within the four walls of their classroom.
And now I’ll go nail this to the edublog door …….
Let’s postulate an English teacher, with a pretty academic S4 class. She sets up a class blog for working, say, on a Critical Essay. (During the S4 course, she may set five such essays) The pupils use the blog to assemble their ideas, collaboratively at first, but gradually moving towards the point where each individual is working on his/her own essay. And gradually the teacher’s comments will become the kind of thing that in the past she will have been writing on the pupils’ scripts as they submitted them – formative assessment.
Now, as I see it, part of the joy of this is that the comments will be available for others in the class to see and benefit from; in fact the teacher could highlight points which were more widely beneficial by putting them in a post instead of a comment, with indication, perhaps, of exactly which pupils need to heed this post. But there’s the rub – maybe. For the comments are there for not just the class to see, but the teacher’s line manager, the headteacher, the parents, other teachers ….. and so on.
If a teacher doesn’t really go in for helpful comments on a pupil’s work, if she merely ticks and grades and throws it back for the hapless pupil to make it better all on his own, then that kind of teacher isn’t going to want to blog. If a teacher is uncertain actually of how to tell a pupil to improve their writing and prefers to leave a vague comment rather than expose her own uncertainty, then that teacher isn’t going to want to blog. Most principal teachers in fact have little time to inspect the ongoing assessment within their department, and laying down ground rules about how teachers actually assess individual pieces is all very well but hard to enforce. But if each teacher in a department had their assessment in the public domain – indeed, their whole year’s work in literature and writing on record for all to see – who is the winner there?
The answer has to be the pupil. Not just because of the benefits I’ve already discussed elsewhere – the permanent record, the sense of audience – but also because their teacher will be equally aware of audience. There will be no chance to shut the classroom door and hide the evidence in the cupboard. And it may be that this is the big fly in the ointment for the teacher unwilling to go public. Maybe blogs are just too open – not for the pupils we spend so much energy “protecting” from the big bad cyber-public, but for the majority of teachers who prefer to keep their work within the four walls of their classroom.
And now I’ll go nail this to the edublog door …….
Monday, September 25, 2006
Brambles in the blogosphere?
I've just had the interesting experience of being interviewed for an embryonic local radio station - "someone creative" was apparently the remit. This resulted in an entirely enjoyable morning talking about my poetry and reading a few of them, including this one, which I wrote last year on National Poetry Day.
BRAMBLES
Today I found five brambles
Dangling carelessly on a branch
Miles from their roots
Invaders in my garden
Hard little things
Dull-eyed and gritty
But now I should wrestle
Not with a bank of weeds
But with an online bank
Prune some debts
Tidy loose ends
And instead of working
I am writing about brambles
Because a friend told me
That this was a day
For poems to grow in.
© C.M.M.
It feels somehow self-indulgent to be given the chance to talk about my own writing - normally it's something I do and offer without comment, as if it was bad enough to be inflicting the actual writing on folk without discussing it as well. In fact, a blog is about the only place where such self-absorption seems acceptable - until you start wondering about audience. I've touched on this before, here, but I've been forced to think again about audience and responsibility in blogging as in other areas of my life.
I find myself slightly resentful at the thought that a blog which began as my little-read online maunderings should have prompted someone to question the wisdom of posting what comes up my back. Is this what happens when people actually read what you write? You become anwerable?
Well, if so, I'm about to do some more serious (educational) thinking online. And if someone doesn't like it - tough. But I will think about what I write first. And that's a promise.
BRAMBLES
Today I found five brambles
Dangling carelessly on a branch
Miles from their roots
Invaders in my garden
Hard little things
Dull-eyed and gritty
But now I should wrestle
Not with a bank of weeds
But with an online bank
Prune some debts
Tidy loose ends
And instead of working
I am writing about brambles
Because a friend told me
That this was a day
For poems to grow in.
© C.M.M.
It feels somehow self-indulgent to be given the chance to talk about my own writing - normally it's something I do and offer without comment, as if it was bad enough to be inflicting the actual writing on folk without discussing it as well. In fact, a blog is about the only place where such self-absorption seems acceptable - until you start wondering about audience. I've touched on this before, here, but I've been forced to think again about audience and responsibility in blogging as in other areas of my life.
I find myself slightly resentful at the thought that a blog which began as my little-read online maunderings should have prompted someone to question the wisdom of posting what comes up my back. Is this what happens when people actually read what you write? You become anwerable?
Well, if so, I'm about to do some more serious (educational) thinking online. And if someone doesn't like it - tough. But I will think about what I write first. And that's a promise.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Blast-off
In response to the encouragement from my comments page, a brief report on last night's gig. What do I recall today? Two things stick in my mind. First, we sang a storm. Confident, swinging, dead in tune. And I mention this first because the other memory is negative: the noise of the audience. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that two thirds of the 750 people reputed to be there couldn't be described as "audience" because the word implies a degree of listening. No, they were the punters; and it was like performing in a massive pub.
Other memories? Standing on the stage blinded by the lights so that I could see nothing but blackness in the auditorium. Squashed in the backstage area clutching stands and water bottles while large stagehands squeezed apologetically by and Fred Macaulay kept the patter flowing. The gaffer tape on the maestro's pedal sliding on the wet stage and needing running repairs mid-set ..... and the continuous racket from the darkness tempting me to seize the mike and bellow. (I didn't)
Do it again? I'd rather not. But I'm glad the Three Dolphins Trust got off to such a good start and that people seemed to have fun. I'll find my fun in a freezing half-empty church somewhere ....
Other memories? Standing on the stage blinded by the lights so that I could see nothing but blackness in the auditorium. Squashed in the backstage area clutching stands and water bottles while large stagehands squeezed apologetically by and Fred Macaulay kept the patter flowing. The gaffer tape on the maestro's pedal sliding on the wet stage and needing running repairs mid-set ..... and the continuous racket from the darkness tempting me to seize the mike and bellow. (I didn't)
Do it again? I'd rather not. But I'm glad the Three Dolphins Trust got off to such a good start and that people seemed to have fun. I'll find my fun in a freezing half-empty church somewhere ....
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Fly me to the Moon .... please
Find today completely hijacked by the fact that I'm taking part in a charity concert in the Queens' Hall tonight. It's not as if I'm a solo turn - just Five of Eight (Borg afficionados will get this) in the singing group 8+1 (eight women + one man, our director), in a show full of rock groups, the school jazz band and Fred Macaulay the compere, but in a way it's even more frustrating.
For a start, we were promised a sound check with the "professional" sound man coming down "specially" - and now he's later than expected and the sound check is "aff". So we've had less than ten minutes on the stage last night and tonight we go on and whether or not we can be heard is in the hands of someone we've never met and who doesn't know anything about our sound. He's checking the jazz band and a rock group. We sound like neither of these. We are not amused.
If I survive the event I may blog more - or I may simply choose to forget it. Depends how it goes for us, I guess. It's more my cup of tea to sing Byrd in a lovely resonant building, with no sound experts within miles, but tonight it's "Fly me to the Moon" or nothing.
Let's hear it for the oldest swingers in town .....
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