Today this blog reached 1000 pageviews. I'm really chuffed about that. Thanks to everyone who's contributed even just one of those, and especially to those who've told me they enjoy reading it. It's a nice feeling to know that. :)) More to come!
Saturday, 31 March 2012
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Message
It's long been my experience that life delivers messages and benedictions, if you want to hear them and can understand them - but they are never what you expect!
Some back-story. I've been having difficulty teaching a group of 11 and 12 year olds, on the basic level of the children's behaviour and classroom discipline. At one stage I thought I'd made some progress, but then, the next time I saw them, their behaviour was the worst I'd experienced, the class was completely disrupted, and I really lost my rag with them, banging books on the table, shouting, telling them I was appalled by their rudeness and their behaviour, their parents would be told, etc. etc. (Such is the reluctant lot of one in a position of authority, even when that one is, by nature, something of an anarchist!)
Subsequent to that, much searching for ways to handle the situation better next time, me talking with the head of children's teaching about working with this age group and these particular students, alternative approaches, tips and strategies - anything that might help me do a better job. (I don't like not doing a good job.)
Fast forward to the next time I was due to see them. Immediately beforehand I was, unexpectedly, asked if someone could sit in on the class. She was an older Ukrainian woman, who'd been a schoolteacher in the past, and was observing classes, with a view to doing some teaching at the school herself. You can probably imagine that, at first, I wasn't best pleased to be asked - not this class, on this occasion, when I feared that all hell might break loose, and the chances of me appearing competent and professional were very low indeed! I could've refused, but at the same time I thought her presence might have a positive effect on the children's behaviour - I'm quite sure they take advantage of the fact that I don't understand what they say to each other, and they wouldn't be able to do that with her.
So to the class, with a couple of new strategies in mind, and now a different classroom dynamic. It went very well. The children behaved considerably better than usual (I'm sure the presence of the former teacher played an important part), and we even managed to do some work! A much better experience in every way. But that's not the point of the story.
I got to the end of the class, and of course I wanted to know what my observer - a trained, experienced schoolteacher - would have to say. Would she comment on the lack of discipline in the class? Would she talk about the behaviour of the children? Would she make any observations about my approach? Eventually we did talk about all those things, but her very first, unprompted, words to me at the end of the lesson?
"You obviously love children."
That was not what I expected to hear. Talk about coming out of left field ... But, hearing her perspective, instantly my whole experience of working with the group was re-framed. That's not to say that I suddenly realized that classroom discipline was of no importance, but rather that I was too hung up on it; nor that I suddenly abandoned my determination that the children learn some English in the classes, but rather that I understood I already had the most important quality for bringing that about in abundance. The mind of course quickly jumped in with its disagreements ("but ... no ... really? ... but it can't ...what about? ..." etc.), trying to re-establish the status quo, but the message had already been delivered. Straight to the heart. I'm still absorbing its impact.
Some back-story. I've been having difficulty teaching a group of 11 and 12 year olds, on the basic level of the children's behaviour and classroom discipline. At one stage I thought I'd made some progress, but then, the next time I saw them, their behaviour was the worst I'd experienced, the class was completely disrupted, and I really lost my rag with them, banging books on the table, shouting, telling them I was appalled by their rudeness and their behaviour, their parents would be told, etc. etc. (Such is the reluctant lot of one in a position of authority, even when that one is, by nature, something of an anarchist!)
Subsequent to that, much searching for ways to handle the situation better next time, me talking with the head of children's teaching about working with this age group and these particular students, alternative approaches, tips and strategies - anything that might help me do a better job. (I don't like not doing a good job.)
Fast forward to the next time I was due to see them. Immediately beforehand I was, unexpectedly, asked if someone could sit in on the class. She was an older Ukrainian woman, who'd been a schoolteacher in the past, and was observing classes, with a view to doing some teaching at the school herself. You can probably imagine that, at first, I wasn't best pleased to be asked - not this class, on this occasion, when I feared that all hell might break loose, and the chances of me appearing competent and professional were very low indeed! I could've refused, but at the same time I thought her presence might have a positive effect on the children's behaviour - I'm quite sure they take advantage of the fact that I don't understand what they say to each other, and they wouldn't be able to do that with her.
So to the class, with a couple of new strategies in mind, and now a different classroom dynamic. It went very well. The children behaved considerably better than usual (I'm sure the presence of the former teacher played an important part), and we even managed to do some work! A much better experience in every way. But that's not the point of the story.
I got to the end of the class, and of course I wanted to know what my observer - a trained, experienced schoolteacher - would have to say. Would she comment on the lack of discipline in the class? Would she talk about the behaviour of the children? Would she make any observations about my approach? Eventually we did talk about all those things, but her very first, unprompted, words to me at the end of the lesson?
"You obviously love children."
That was not what I expected to hear. Talk about coming out of left field ... But, hearing her perspective, instantly my whole experience of working with the group was re-framed. That's not to say that I suddenly realized that classroom discipline was of no importance, but rather that I was too hung up on it; nor that I suddenly abandoned my determination that the children learn some English in the classes, but rather that I understood I already had the most important quality for bringing that about in abundance. The mind of course quickly jumped in with its disagreements ("but ... no ... really? ... but it can't ...what about? ..." etc.), trying to re-establish the status quo, but the message had already been delivered. Straight to the heart. I'm still absorbing its impact.
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Blokes
Aaaaaaaaand I'm back!
My long silence has been the result of really needing to concentrate on teaching, getting settled in to my new situation and new daily activities. I feel I don't need quite the same intensity of focus now, so can include other things in my view, like the blog.
There are quite a few potential entries jostling for access to the blog, and I'll get round to the ones I like best soon. But to start off with, as something of a contrast to a photo I posted earlier (!), here's one of a group I've just been teaching:
They're not quite as pretty as the other class ;), but they were very "real" and I enjoyed teaching them. They're Ukrainian merchant mariners - captains and chief engineers (no erroneous, Pugwash-themed jokes about Seaman Staines or Roger the Cabin Boy, please) - who work on dredgers, all over the world, for a Belgian company, imaginatively called Dredging International - tsk, those Belgians, they really know how to come up with a snappy and allusive brand identity, don't they? The guys were doing a 40-hour intensive course to improve their English, which the company had paid for (its concern for CPD evincing a more modish business acuity than its marketing!) In truth they were more interested in talking than learning grammar, so we spent quite a bit of time doing that. The conversations were interesting, full of enquiry, and very good-natured, but it's rather a shame that there wasn't an opportunity for us to include some beer in the proceedings, as I think that would've made them even more so! Needless to say, we talked about the frozen sea (did I mention that already?), and I learned from them that it was about twenty years since it last happened, but this time a much larger area was frozen; also that the Sea of Azov (look it up) was frozen solid!!!! Apparently this was not such an unusual occurrence, though, as it's only a few metres deep on average.
In the spirit of the title of this blog, I rather like the fact that I've chosen to publish this entry on International Women's Day. It wasn't deliberate, it's a connection I've made just now, while writing it. So, dear readers, I send you my best wishes for International Women's Day (pozdravlenya s Mezhdunarodnym Zhenskim Dnem', as they say here), from one bloke among many.
My long silence has been the result of really needing to concentrate on teaching, getting settled in to my new situation and new daily activities. I feel I don't need quite the same intensity of focus now, so can include other things in my view, like the blog.
There are quite a few potential entries jostling for access to the blog, and I'll get round to the ones I like best soon. But to start off with, as something of a contrast to a photo I posted earlier (!), here's one of a group I've just been teaching:
In the spirit of the title of this blog, I rather like the fact that I've chosen to publish this entry on International Women's Day. It wasn't deliberate, it's a connection I've made just now, while writing it. So, dear readers, I send you my best wishes for International Women's Day (pozdravlenya s Mezhdunarodnym Zhenskim Dnem', as they say here), from one bloke among many.
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Shapes
Some more pics of the weird and wonderful frozen shoreline.
The number of people out there to see it this Sunday afternoon is testament to how rare an event it is (and, probably, to the fact that today it was only -10 ... Practically balmy!)
A middle-aged woman with fantastically misaligned, orange teeth, from whose kiosk I bought a slice of soggy, microwaved pizza (reminded me of West Bay ... aww!) told me in some detail, while waiting for the pizza to heat up, how she couldn't remember the weather ever being like this before. At least, that's my best guess at what she said. She chatted happily away, clearly unaware that her listener understood only about one word in ten. But I must've got the gist, because when I made my own, less-than-ten-words-at-a-time, weather-themed contributions to the conversation, she didn't look at me as if I was a crazy person talking unconnected nonsense. Result!
It was an afternoon of strange shapes ...
I've been wondering how these ice shapes came about. They rather look like the water froze just after waves had broken over these structures. Extraordinary.
Last night featured some strange shapes too. I went with some colleagues from work to a bar where a couple of live bands were playing. The support band were a bit Coldplay-ish, pretty good musicians actually. But they weren't local, and the level of audience support wasn't that high. The main band, on the other hand, were clearly local favourites, so got a much more enthusiastic reception from the crowd - even though they were rather less interesting. I've heard the kind of music they played (punky, music to pogo to) many times, starting in the mid-70s, and it all gets a bit same-y. The mainly youthful audience loved it, however, and pogo-ed away enthusiastically (God, do I sound old, or what?) But the atmosphere was good - apparently it's a very "in" place to go here - and the beer was good and very cheap. I bought three half-litres of an excellent light beer (they call it "white" here) for about £2.50. Entrance cost the same. Here's a rather uninformative photo, the only one I took:
Back to the shapes. One of the most surprising things that happened was that, during the gap between the two bands, the people who jumped up and started to dance to the DJ's music, were nearly all men. Something that doesn't happen very often in the UK. Time will tell if it's characteristic or not ... And they were "throwing" some very weird shapes while strutting their stuff.
That's it. Pretty feeble link, really. :))
The number of people out there to see it this Sunday afternoon is testament to how rare an event it is (and, probably, to the fact that today it was only -10 ... Practically balmy!)
A middle-aged woman with fantastically misaligned, orange teeth, from whose kiosk I bought a slice of soggy, microwaved pizza (reminded me of West Bay ... aww!) told me in some detail, while waiting for the pizza to heat up, how she couldn't remember the weather ever being like this before. At least, that's my best guess at what she said. She chatted happily away, clearly unaware that her listener understood only about one word in ten. But I must've got the gist, because when I made my own, less-than-ten-words-at-a-time, weather-themed contributions to the conversation, she didn't look at me as if I was a crazy person talking unconnected nonsense. Result!
It was an afternoon of strange shapes ...
I've been wondering how these ice shapes came about. They rather look like the water froze just after waves had broken over these structures. Extraordinary.
Last night featured some strange shapes too. I went with some colleagues from work to a bar where a couple of live bands were playing. The support band were a bit Coldplay-ish, pretty good musicians actually. But they weren't local, and the level of audience support wasn't that high. The main band, on the other hand, were clearly local favourites, so got a much more enthusiastic reception from the crowd - even though they were rather less interesting. I've heard the kind of music they played (punky, music to pogo to) many times, starting in the mid-70s, and it all gets a bit same-y. The mainly youthful audience loved it, however, and pogo-ed away enthusiastically (God, do I sound old, or what?) But the atmosphere was good - apparently it's a very "in" place to go here - and the beer was good and very cheap. I bought three half-litres of an excellent light beer (they call it "white" here) for about £2.50. Entrance cost the same. Here's a rather uninformative photo, the only one I took:
Back to the shapes. One of the most surprising things that happened was that, during the gap between the two bands, the people who jumped up and started to dance to the DJ's music, were nearly all men. Something that doesn't happen very often in the UK. Time will tell if it's characteristic or not ... And they were "throwing" some very weird shapes while strutting their stuff.
That's it. Pretty feeble link, really. :))
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Frozen
I discovered a couple of days ago that the sea here is frozen over. The Black Sea - frozen. Not all of it, of course, but up to a considerable distance from the shoreline, half a mile, maybe more. Almost unheard of here, apparently, and something I've personally never seen before. Today was another clear, bright day, I had no teaching, so I decided to go and see ... frozen sea!
On the way there, a walk through Shevchenko Park in the lovely winter light:
With signs perhaps of the rapid departure of some of the people who would normally sleep rough there (most of the people who've died in Ukraine in this cold spell have been homeless):
And then, finally, to a frozen Black Sea:
In this particular spot, there was still some water not frozen solid:
But elsewhere it was like this:
and kept the sea unfrozen where it ran into it
even though it itself was surrounded by ice
Oh, I forgot to mention that this was the coldest place I've ever been in my life! Not only was it cold enough anyway to freeze the sea, but there was also a strong wind blowing - it was like someone was trying to wrap every bit of my exposed skin in rough ice. After I'd been by the sea for the best part of an hour, I was very cold. I had, with difficulty, managed to operate the exposure and shutter controls on my camera with gloves on, but not to change lenses, so the gloves had had to come off (for the briefest time possible), twice, and my fingers were *burning*. And then, finally, the camera battery gave out. I don't mean it just ran out of charge, like batteries do, I mean it stopped working, because of the cold. It was time for me to stop too. A brisk 15-minute walk to the nearest cafe, a bowl of hot soup and some coffee, and I recovered. The battery hasn't.
On the way there, a walk through Shevchenko Park in the lovely winter light:
With signs perhaps of the rapid departure of some of the people who would normally sleep rough there (most of the people who've died in Ukraine in this cold spell have been homeless):
And then, finally, to a frozen Black Sea:
In this particular spot, there was still some water not frozen solid:
But elsewhere it was like this:
In one place, sheltered behind a wall, there was a small patch of completely unfrozen water
which made a strange contrast with its surroundings:
In another place, a stream continued to run along a conduit
even though it itself was surrounded by ice
Oh, I forgot to mention that this was the coldest place I've ever been in my life! Not only was it cold enough anyway to freeze the sea, but there was also a strong wind blowing - it was like someone was trying to wrap every bit of my exposed skin in rough ice. After I'd been by the sea for the best part of an hour, I was very cold. I had, with difficulty, managed to operate the exposure and shutter controls on my camera with gloves on, but not to change lenses, so the gloves had had to come off (for the briefest time possible), twice, and my fingers were *burning*. And then, finally, the camera battery gave out. I don't mean it just ran out of charge, like batteries do, I mean it stopped working, because of the cold. It was time for me to stop too. A brisk 15-minute walk to the nearest cafe, a bowl of hot soup and some coffee, and I recovered. The battery hasn't.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Warmer?
I thought today was a degree or so warmer, at least in the middle of the day (I didn't venture outdoors until lunchtime). But this evening a student on one of my courses told me that the temperature on her outdoor thermometer before she left for work this morning read -24.
I just need to give that a moment to sink in ...
-24 !!!!
My lips are practically frozen together just thinking about it. :||
Word is that the temperature will rise somewhat after the weekend, when it's rumored that it may go as high as 0 degrees. Blimey, practically time to get the swimming cozzy out! I also hear tell that the cold front is headed in a westerly direction - so if it reaches my dear friends in the UK, you will have my sympathy, but I'll be glad it's gone somewhere!
I just need to give that a moment to sink in ...
-24 !!!!
My lips are practically frozen together just thinking about it. :||
Word is that the temperature will rise somewhat after the weekend, when it's rumored that it may go as high as 0 degrees. Blimey, practically time to get the swimming cozzy out! I also hear tell that the cold front is headed in a westerly direction - so if it reaches my dear friends in the UK, you will have my sympathy, but I'll be glad it's gone somewhere!
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
Colderer
I joked the other day about my fingers maybe getting frozen to the metal of my camera in this weather. Hahaha. Well, as it turned out ...
Today was probably the coldest yet, with the temperature around -18 (that's in the middle of the day, in full sunshine, you understand). It was also a brilliant, clear day, with all the streets and buildings looking fabulous in the beautiful winter light again. As I, thoroughly wrapped up, was walking briskly to meet a friend in a cafe, I saw a view of some bare trees and their shadows cast on a building, which I thought would make a nice shot. Should I stop and take it? Or should I just keep going and get out of this cold as soon as possible? My crossing the street momentarily delayed by traffic anyway, I decided to take the shot. I took my camera out of my pocket, then my glove off so as to press the little magic button ... FUUUUUUUUUCK! My fingers didn't actually stick to the camera, but they immediately hurt like hell, and continued to until I got inside the cafe and warmed up about fifteen or twenty minutes later ... Something else to be careful of in these new and unfamiliar circumstances I've chosen. I've *never* experienced this degree of cold before. I think it was about 10 below when I was in Moscow 6 or 7 years ago, and also in Japan back in 1985, but that's the coldest, until now.
Here's the shot, btw:
Was it worth the pain, I ask myself? I mean, it's OK. And I still think it's a good idea, but fully achieved? Nah! What do you think? (comments below, please)
There is, for a photographer, a painful irony in the fact that the light here on a day like today is just *exquisite* - I mean, even the north coast of Cornwall can't match the crystal-sharp luminescence of this light, imo - but it's just too bloody cold to engage in any meaningful way with the act of taking photographs! (It's almost too bloody cold to engage in any meaningful way with the act of just looking - or even being alive - tbh.) But maybe I'll find a way - and one which doesn't require the sacrifice of any precious, and much-loved, digits!
Somewhat later, I saw this shapka (fur hat) abandoned by the side of the path:
How could *anyone* not notice they didn't have it? (And, in case you were wondering, no I didn't have painful fingers for a quarter of an hour after taking this photo - this time I left my glove on. Hah! Lesson learned. Far from a resolution of the frustrating situation previously described, nevertheless a step in the right direction ... )
Today was probably the coldest yet, with the temperature around -18 (that's in the middle of the day, in full sunshine, you understand). It was also a brilliant, clear day, with all the streets and buildings looking fabulous in the beautiful winter light again. As I, thoroughly wrapped up, was walking briskly to meet a friend in a cafe, I saw a view of some bare trees and their shadows cast on a building, which I thought would make a nice shot. Should I stop and take it? Or should I just keep going and get out of this cold as soon as possible? My crossing the street momentarily delayed by traffic anyway, I decided to take the shot. I took my camera out of my pocket, then my glove off so as to press the little magic button ... FUUUUUUUUUCK! My fingers didn't actually stick to the camera, but they immediately hurt like hell, and continued to until I got inside the cafe and warmed up about fifteen or twenty minutes later ... Something else to be careful of in these new and unfamiliar circumstances I've chosen. I've *never* experienced this degree of cold before. I think it was about 10 below when I was in Moscow 6 or 7 years ago, and also in Japan back in 1985, but that's the coldest, until now.
Here's the shot, btw:
Was it worth the pain, I ask myself? I mean, it's OK. And I still think it's a good idea, but fully achieved? Nah! What do you think? (comments below, please)
There is, for a photographer, a painful irony in the fact that the light here on a day like today is just *exquisite* - I mean, even the north coast of Cornwall can't match the crystal-sharp luminescence of this light, imo - but it's just too bloody cold to engage in any meaningful way with the act of taking photographs! (It's almost too bloody cold to engage in any meaningful way with the act of just looking - or even being alive - tbh.) But maybe I'll find a way - and one which doesn't require the sacrifice of any precious, and much-loved, digits!
Somewhat later, I saw this shapka (fur hat) abandoned by the side of the path:
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