How you play the game.

Hurray for the GB Men's Gymnastics team with their Bronze medal, the GB equestrian eventing team and women's cyclist with their silver, and for the GB Women's Pairs Rowers with their Gold.

Shame on the badminton teams who did not give it their best go. And shame on the American Coach who suggested foul play because a young swimmer excelled herself, and knocked the American competitor into second place.

Shame on the Twitter user who tweeted vile messages to Tom Daley.

 

At high level sport, of course, the eyes of the world are upon the athletes, and you want your team to win big. Top athletes aspire to Gold medals. Gold is what everyone wants, but, not everyone can have it.

I am very, very pleased for Helen Glover and Heather Stanning (GB rowers) who earned a very well deserved Gold medal. But we should be equally proud of the achievements of those who won Silver and those who won Bronze. The media's lamenting the lack of Gold medals thus far seems to me to miss at least some of the point. To have made it into the Olympic finals at all is a stunning achievement.

I have no doubt that Tom Daley's father would be bursting with pride at the efforts and dedication of his son. (Vile Tweeter is surely alone in his thinking and his comments). Daly and Waterfield put in a tremendous performance in the synchronised diving events, and fourth place out of a world of competitors is not bad at all. And they can say they worked their hardest and did the best they could on the day, at the time. The Chinese, Indonseian and South Korean Badminton teams can't say the same.

There is, it seems, no evidence at this time to suggest that Ye Shiwen won her swimming Gold medals using unfair means. She has been drugs tested at least three times. It is unjust to detract from her achievement in the way that the American coach did - and, indeed, that various news commentators have implied ('Could she have found ways around the current testing?' 'Of course she could') without reasonable evidence. You can't cheer for Gold medal winners and then, when a young girl outdoes herself and all of the other competitors, say that, to be that good, she must be cheating. Perhaps she really is just that good?

A major part of the campaign to bring the Olympics to London was about creating a legacy. No one is quite clear what this means, but it seems, in part, to be about inspiring young people to participate in sport, and to aim high. Focus and dedication in a career - althetics or not - is a good aspiration.

We should, though, bear in mind - and make sure that others do too - that sport isn't all about the winning. Good sportsmanship is as important, whether it is being gracious in defeat, performing a more cautious routine to ensure points for the team rather than showing off, playing your best (whatever the outcome)congratulating others' achievements or just in acknowledging the effort.

It isn't whether you win or lose; it's how you play the game.

New and old

I got on the bus the other day and noticed a new ticket machine - its electronic display actually said 'Good Morning' on it.  In other cities where I have lived, this might be used to make up for the grumpiness of the drivers, but in Naval City, the drivers seem to be quite friendly anyway, so I'm not convinced that a new, polite, ticket system is the most useful way to spend the company funds, but this is not really the point of the story.

'That's a shiny new ticket machine', I said, whilst I waited for the driver to sort out my weekly ticket. For this, the machine prints a ticket and then the driver puts it into a little card-and-sticky-backed-plastic wallet.  The driver smiled and nodded as pulled one ticket wallet from a large group held by an elastic band.

His smile turned into a look of slight confusion as he discovered that the shape of ticket didn't quite fit the wallet, and then into concentration whilst he carefully folded the paper to make it fit and still show all of the relevant bits of information.

'Ticket is new' he said, with a slight accent (Eastern European?) and a knowing smile. 'Wallet is old'.

Beautiful Beliefs (5)

I believe that...

It is easy to take hard working people for granted, but we shouldn’t!

My colleagues and I were obliged to attend a staff development event this week in order to prepare us for the challenges of the next academic year. In its wisdom, the university has decided that 2012-13 is the year to introduce a radical overhaul of the academic structure and curriculum, despite the upheaval and uncertainty coming our way as a result of the government’s raising of tuition fees for students. For those who are not aware of this, the amount a degree costs is not changing; what is changing is the proportion of that cost borne by the student themselves instead of government funding. Many students will not appreciate this subtle difference and will insist on ‘more for their money’ since they are paying more. This staff development event was to alert us to the changes coming and to tell us about other university developments alongside changes brought about by the new curriculum.

It was not a successful day from the perspective of most academic staff. We were told things we already knew, and we were not given the opportunity to ask questions regarding what we did not or to comment on management plans. It did little to raise staff morale after what has been a very difficult transitional year. I am new to the department this year, and the strain of the new curriculum is already taking a toll. I imagine that my colleagues who have been dealing with this for much longer than I have must feel terribly ground down.

Faculty management, throughout the day, told us that in the future we must listen to the students, ask for their feedback, respond to their feedback, help them set goals for the future, and – importantly – make sure they know that we care. What was shockingly poor about this address was that it implied that we were not already doing those things; that up to this point, we have not cared about our students, their degree or their circumstances. At no point did anyone say, ‘You’ve all done a great job this year. Keep it up!’.

No one came away from the day feeling motivated, appreciated or looking forward to the future or any more prepared than they were before this compulsory event. Many of my colleagues are looking for jobs elsewhere. But they wouldn’t be if they felt that they were heard, appreciated, supported in their academic endeavours. They (we) work very hard for the students, and to keep up with research despite a struggle for institutional support. A ‘well done’ or ‘keep it up’ or ‘thank you for all your efforts’ would have gone a very long way.

This is not a post to big up my own efforts though, and ‘hard working’ doesn’t only apply to academics! I miss the friendly and brilliant admin support that we had at my previous institution, and realise that whilst I never took this support entirely for granted, I didn't fully appreciate how much the undergrad secretaries did for tutors above and beyond what happens elsewhere. Here at Naval City University, the cleaners come into our offices to empty the bins and vacuum the floor. I appreciate that I no longer have to empty my own bin (office dustbins were neither supplied nor empied at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison) and that at least once a week my carpet is fluff-free.

However small or large the task, acknowledging others' efforts can make a big difference. Say thank you to your mum or dad or other loved ones (thank you to the Physio for making me dinner!); to the administrator, the cleaner, the bus driver, the waiter, the nurse, teacher, cashier, librarian, etc., etc., etc.

Most people who deserve acknowledgement do not go out of their way to seek it - they just get on with their tasks.  That does not mean they shouldn’t get it.


This post is connected to Amy's Beautiful Belief's project.

Beautiful Beliefs (4)

I believe that...

We are all in too much of a hurry.

I have thought this for some time, but I am reminded of it often at the pelican crossings near where I work. There are 11 of them covering 3 major junctions. To me, this suggests that walking into the road when the red man is showing means imminent danger of death, so I wait for the green man. Sometimes the road is clear – but it’s a very busy road and won’t stay that way for long. Others, however, arrive at the road, give a quick look to see if there is any traffic on its way, and then walk or run across, looking at me as if I'm mad for just standing there. Sometimes, the distance between them and the oncoming traffic is so small that I, safe on the pavement, am frightened of the potential accident. And I wonder to myself if what they are hurrying towards is worth that risk, to themselves or to the drivers. I suspect, for most of them, it is not. It is just that they do not want to stand at the side of the road for the 2 minutes it will take for the lights to change and the green man to appear. Why and how have we, collectively, lost the ability to just stand still and wait?

I notice this at bus stops too. No amount of looking at your watch or complaining will make the bus that is not-yet-but-might-be-late arrive any sooner. I understand the complaints when the bus is very late, or it is very cold, or someone has an important appointment to make and needs it to be on time (get an earlier bus?), but the lack of patience – the difficulties some people encounter in just waiting – puzzles me.

I like to watch the dogs playing in the park over the road. Or watch the clouds moving in the sky. Or just move my weight from one foot to the other (maybe other people waiting for the bus think I’m crazy and are in a hurry to get away?) whilst I listen to whatever soundtrack I have playing in my head that day.

Last week Amy wrote about her experience in yoga practice; about the stillness and peace of savasana. I enjoy this pose too, and all of the other yoga poses that, whilst stretching muscles I’d forgotten about, allow me to be still within my body and within my mind (the latter sometimes takes some effort), not hurrying anywhere, physically or mentally.

Stillness is under-rated. Why the hurry?

This post is related to Amy's Beautiful Beliefs writing circle.

Irresponsible TV.

Bullying does not make good TV.

This might seem like an obvious statement, but it was provoked by a programme I watched yesterday evening. I usually enjoy 8 out of 10 Cats; the panellists are witty and play off each other very well. There is sometimes a certain amount of good natured banter, but no real harm is meant. For last night's festive edition, the panellists were Sean Lock, Micky Flanagan, Jon Richardson, Greg Davies, Liza Tarbuck and Jedward. Very little of the show was funny. I was disappointed.

I don't like Jedward, for several reasons. I don't think they are particularly talented as singers, dancers or performers in general. (I also don't like that as twins they present themselves as one entity, even conflating their names, but that's a separate issue.). I also don't like the 'celebrity' culture they represent: they are, actually, famous for their lack of talent, promoted by the UK X factor show. They are young, and have been thrust into the spotlight with managers/agents who get their faces on anything and everything they can. X factor expoited them for viewing figures - not to listen in awe to their vocal brilliance, but to see what new crazy thing they would do - and they continue to develop their own particular 'brand' in this way. It might be good for their publicity, but I doubt it is good for the boys themselves. Last night's programme was a good example of this.

Most of the programme consisted of the other panellists (and the host, Jimmy Carr) joking amongst themselves about how terrible and how stupid Jedward are. There was a lot of name calling, and a lot of highlighting their 'faults'. And the boys just kept pushing through. They kept trying to join in in answering the questions, but each time they were made to look extremely foolish at best.

I don't think they did themselves any favours on this front. And I don't think that their managers / agents / parents are doing them any favours either in encouraging them to keep doing these things. There is a limit to how long they will be able to continue presenting themselves in the way that they do, and they will also struggle to create careers for themselves when the 'Jedward' bubble bursts - which it will, sooner or later.

But, the 'grown ups' on 8 out of 10 Cats (their term, not mine) did not come across any better in their dealings with the boys. The funniest moments were those of quick wit, mostly directed at other targets than Jedward. There is nothing quick witted about verbally bashing or humiliating an easy target. And the boys themselves, although they kept smiling through, looked at times like they were genuinely hurt by some of the comments. There was nothing funny about grown men (I'm excluding Liza Tarbuck, because she actually said very little, and would add that Jon Richardson behaved better than the others) bullying teenage boys.

Jedward were well out of their depth. They knew it. The host and other panellists knew it. And I knew it. And it made for very uncomfortable viewing. .

The TV programme that created 'Jedward' was irresponsible to do so. They are not well equipped for the world that either loves or loathes them, and whilst they are 'good sports', there is a limit to what they ought to be expected to take in the name of publicity.

Presenting this as a Christmas comedy programme gives out the wrong message. It suggests that bullying is witty, or funny. It isn't. If those sorts of comments were made in a different forum we would all agree it was bullying and wrong. But because it was a comedy show - and because Jedward are Jedward - such behaviour is allowed to pass by uncriticised. It shouldn't be.

Such blatant bullying on TV is not funny. It is cruel and it is irresponsible. And it should be far beneath the witty comedians who made two teenage boys their target as part of festive fun.

Seeing differently 2: confidence and criticism

I know I said in my previous ‘seeing differently’ post that we shouldn’t judge by each other’s standards, but in this post I’m going to suggest that we take into account what others think we are capable of (only if it’s positive!). We are often so much more ‘down’ on ourselves than we should be.

We all have insecurities about our abilities. I’m just going to take one, teaching related example from this academic year. For the first term, I taught two theory classes. One group is very friendly, interested, relaxed and open to new ideas. In the other, I had two or three students who spent the whole class looking sullen, responding to my questions with a certain amount of diffidence, and in general looking at me like I didn’t know what I was doing, either as a tutor or in relation to the theoretical concepts I was teaching. I admit, I am not at my most confident teaching some theories (Lacanian psychoanalysis on the mirror stage is one of them) but I know I am a good tutor. I have student feedback forms that say this. I have peer reviews that say this. I have several years of experience, and have learned some useful techniques for running seminars, and also, for teaching theory. But three sulky students managed to bring out the underlying theory-related securities that I have. Half way through the year, a colleague whose specialism is in philosophy and literary theory returned from sabbatical and took over teaching the group with the sullen students. (I have since learned that these students behave the same way in his classes as mine, suggesting it was not my teaching that was their problem).

Since I was teaching them at the time they handed in their essays, I had to mark them. These essays allow students the freedom to do a theoretically-informed analysis of any text they wish, and this makes the assignments difficult to mark. I also am not involved in setting the questions for this team taught course, and I think most people would agree it is easier to mark questions that you have set. However, I marked the essays and then passed them over to Theory Confident Colleague. I worried that he would look at them and think my marking was terrible, and my knowledge and application of theory was poor. I found myself avoiding him, in case he challenged me on this. He has never given me any reason to think that he thinks I am not competent, but because I know this is his specialism, and because I am not 100% convinced of my abilities in this area, I project my insecurities onto him, and turn it into his potential judgement of me.

I have marked theory essays and projects before and my marks matched up with the moderator’s mark. Other colleagues think I am a good tutor; I have been peer reviewed in theory classes with positive comments. I don’t say this to blow my own trumpet. I say this to emphasise that I, and I think we, are more inclined to listen to - or indeed invent - negative criticism that is in tune with our own insecurities than we are to take on board the positive things people say.

But we need to start taking on board positive criticism too. The reason colleagues say nice things about my teaching / lectures / marking /research (cross out until you get the one that applies to you) is because I have done something else – or this before – that gives them the impression that I can do it. Why don’t I believe them enough to be confident? I need to start seeing myself, my work, my abilities differently.

I was going to write this post some time ago, but one of my Shakespeare students questioned her grade and complained not to me, but to a senior colleague, who, as course convenor, then asked to moderate my marking. Because I had come out from under a mountain of 130 essays, and several of my students had got lower grades than I would have expected of them based on seminar performance, I assumed that it was my marking rather than the student’s complaint that was in the wrong, and lost the confidence I had found to write this.

My senior colleague agreed my grades, and the student will have to work harder in her exam revision to raise her final grade. But the fact I so nearly didn’t write this is testament to the fact that I needed to write it. I’m not saying we ought not to take on board comments that may be critical of our practices; everyone has things to learn. But we shouldn’t focus exclusively on the negative, or project our insecurities onto colleagues’ possible opinions. If your colleagues tell you that you are good at something, believe them!

Seeing differently 1: making your own way

As Christmas and then the new year approaches (one of my students recently said that 2010 sounded scarily futuristic, and she may be right), this is the first of a few posts on seeing differently.

This one began as an email to a friend responding to his Facebook status update on feeling ‘behind’ in comparison to his colleagues.

I wanted to say something comforting in a comment his update but all I could think of was that I am now 2+ yrs post-thesis submission and don't think I will ever ‘catch up’ with some of my friends who have only just finished theirs, and already have a couple of articles, or book chapters and a variety of editing experience. But I realised that this sort of side glancing, side-swiping at ourselves – that others are making better, faster progress – is a normal part of academic life, and we have to find ways not to let it get us so far down that we only see 'failure' when we look at other people, rather than a track along which to progress.

The only way forward is to look forward in our own 'track' and not look sideways at other people's. So I’m adopting a new attitude: what's the next thing *I* can achieve? Finishing my marking is a thing off the 'to do' list (and counts in experience) but isn't a positive goal in my career progress track. So, now I’m aiming to finish an article I was nearly done with in the summer and then sending it to a journal. Voila, article 'under consideration' on my cv. Then on to writing my book proposal. I have written on so many job applications that I am ‘working on’ this, now it’s time to really do it. And not just work on it, but get it done and on its way to an academic press. And then I’m writing a conference paper which I can turn into an article. That will be new research, and I hope it will remind me how much I like my research topics and texts.

I know I can’t do all of this at once. And, yes, I do have to do my marking (about 130-140 essays) over the Christmas holidays. But since I managed to finish a big project this term, along with my heavy teaching commitments, I’m starting to think that I might be able to do it. But I won’t if I keep letting other people’s achievements hold me back. So from now on, in time for the New Year, I’m going to start seeing my work differently.

Building up to Christmas.

Ok. I admit it. I am now starting to get excited about Christmas. I have to keep a lid on this, because I have a ridiculous amount of work to do between now and the end of term next week, but Christmas is definitely coming, and I don't mind.

I mind in October, when I can't find a birthday card in the shops for Christmas cards in the way.
I mind when adverts for Christmas presents take over my TV.
I mind when a major department store has its 'Christmas sale' at the beginning of November.

But it is now December, it's nearly the end of term, and the frosty winter weather (when it is not raining cats and dogs) and darker evenings make the delicate Christmas lights in the city centre twinkle just enough to suggest some magic for the season. I think the City where the Castle is also a Prison do a very good job with their decorations.

That isn't to say I'm entirely ready for Christmas. I'm not. But I have now got a little 'Bag o' Christmas' where I'm putting the Christmas cards and presents I have already bought - so I know what I've got, where it is, and for whom I have still to buy a gift. And as my little 'Bag o' Christmas' fills up, I realise I'm really looking forward to Christmas this year (despite the fact I will have 140 assignments to mark over the festive period). I'm even playing Christmas music as I'm writing this!

I was doing some reading in the Red Coffee Chain shop this afternoon, and the poor staff didn't get a break for the 3 hours I was there. They are very efficient, but the queue never seemed to get any shorter. Outside I could see people struggling their way around town with big bags of shopping, and they would come into Red Coffee Chain and show each other presents for mutual friends. There was a fair amount of pushing and jostling going on too - that's one part of the build up to Christmas that I don't enjoy. It's not about getting to the counter first, people. It's about peace and goodwill towards all people. And the lady in front of me in the till queue at the shop that is not 'just a shop' where I had stopped in for milk and vegetables looked both surprised and grateful when I offered to steady her precariously balanced basket while she unloaded it.

There is no need to be grumpy with the random passer by who is also trying to get their shopping done. In fact, a bit of co-operation would make everyone's Christmas shopping experience a little more, well..., Christmassy!

Phew

Having spent a little time (whilst washing my hair) yesterday planning exactly what I was going to say to the Department administrator / HoD / HR / Payroll today if I did not get paid, I checked my account this morning, and actually - to my surprise - found money in it.

Payment. Finally.

I'm relieved.

I don't like using my cross voice....

Waiting for the bus

I left work late this evening. My Little Dog is staying with the Artist for a while so that I can dig myself out from under a mountain of work without adding in the guilt of not spending enough 'quality time' playing with her. It also gives me a bit of time back, especially in the evenings.

So, because I didn't have to be home to walk the Little Dog, I stayed at work until about 7, getting some bits and pieces finished. I made my way down to the main campus bus stop and saw a long queue of people waiting. And it got longer and longer. I say a queue, but actually there is no sensible queueing position there. Stairs lead from the centre of campus at both ends of the long bus stop. No one knows which end is the right end to queue. It was more a gaggle of people really. A rapidly expanding gaggle.

And there were people who had clearly been waiting some time. Everyone looked up the road when we heard a vehicle, and there were some disappointed sighs when one turned out to be a coach dropping someone off on campus rather than a bus to take us all away. As the gaggle got bigger, I could see people watching each other suspiciously: "are they going to jump in front of me to get on the bus first? will one single decker bus be able to hold all of us? (probably not). Will we all fit on a double decker bus? (well if we're lucky). I was in this queue first, and no one is getting to the bus doors before me. Especially the pushy person, who has repositioned themselves in this gathering 3 times, so as to get closer to the usual door opening point...".

When the bus arrived, the gaggle pushed together towards the door. So much determination to get on first meant that those wanting to get off were fighting their way through. A young man near me carrying a long case (musical instrument? snooker cue?) positioned the case to make sure no one could get next to or past him as he made his way to the front of the queue.

Waiting for buses makes people very selfish.

He got on and said "single to town". "Please", I added for him in my head. (Apparently bus queues make people very rude, as well). Eventually, I got on and found a seat towards the back of the bus. The double decker bus filled, and before we left there were people standing in the aisle. A few stops on from campus, an old and clearly frail lady got on the bus. She stood holding on as the bus set off. I was pleasantly surprised when a young lady sitting in one of the fold-down seats at the front offered her seat. At first Frail Lady refused saying she was only going a few stops, but the young lady was clearly uncomfortable sitting whilst Frail Lady stood, so she stood up and offered again. Frail Lady sat down. A few more stops and Frail Lady got off; the young woman took her seat again, but only briefly as she almost immediately offered it to another older (but not old) lady with shopping who got on. Shopping lady, however, found a seat much further back, and she sat down again. At the next stop a young man with learning difficulties got on, and again the young woman offered her seat. He didn't take it. But at every stop the young woman watched who got on, and offered her seat to another older or frailer than herself.

So I revise: Waiting for the bus makes some people very selfish.

Yielding the floor

I was going to write a new post this evening, but having done some blog reading elsewhere, I've decided it wasn't important.

This post over at Victorianitas on the other hand, is important. I wanted to leave a comment there, but I didn't know quite what to say. So today I'm yielding the floor entirely to September Blue.

Time Out

The Physio and I are going on holiday together next week - a whole week of holiday rather than a long weekend snatched away from work-time. We're going to spend some time in Festival City and in the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss. I'm quite excited to be going there with the Physio; he's already shown me a lot of his favourite places, and I'm looking forward to sharing this place that I love with him. I was very happy living there, and there are lots of places I want to show him - calm places, beautiful places, slightly quirky places. I am a little nervous though: things will have changed there since I last visited. I hope it isn't too different. I really hope he likes it too.

I'm also looking forward to taking a week off work. The last two weeks at my admin job have been quite difficult. The admin manager has changed the programmes for which some of us are responsible so that now, in the last 3 weeks of my position there, I'm learning new processes and getting to grips with new courses. One is only new to me, the other is new to the Faculty. For the second, no one in the office knows how it works. The transfer from the other Faculty was poorly organised, and there has been no sensible hand over from office to office - at least not to those actually doing the administration. I discovered after a few days of frantically trying to track down information that my manager (and his manager) knew where some of that information was, they had just failed to pass that information on to me.

Added to this, the rearrangement of responsibilities has led to some ill-feeling in the office amongst my fellow administrators (not aimed at me, because I am temporary). This is largely due to very poor management. I would suggest that inventing a meeting to go to, and saying "sort this out amongst yourselves" is not really the best management plan when you already know the issue is contentious. No one wants to make difficult or unpopular decisions, but doing that - "sorting it out" - is why the manager is paid significantly more than we are. This ill-feeling is taking over the office. The team-work and co-operation of getting through the Exam Boards seems to be falling away. It is not a happy office any more.

I find dealing with stressful atmospheres - especially over things which need not be stressful - very difficult. I like my world to be a calmer place. At lunchtime yesterday I had planned to do some research related reading, but after a very busy morning combined with the tension in the office I couldn't focus through the brain-fog. Instead I sat staring into space, not really thinking about anything. I used to have that kind of calm time out at yoga classes (I must find some more!), where I could just focus on stretching and breathing to relax. It was quite odd to find that I could create that 'time out' space without the yoga class - and without actually trying. And I went back to the office feeling much calmer and managed to get a lot done in the afternoon. Still, I am looking forward to not being there next week. Hopefully, by the time I get back the busy-ness of the start of term will force harmony upon my colleagues.

Term is soon starting at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison, too, and I have been given a lot of teaching (for which I am very grateful - I shouldn't have to do admin on top of teaching to pay my bills this year). It is going to be another busy year, and before it starts taking time out to spend with the Physio in a place that I love seems like an ideal way to charge my batteries.

Sillyness.

I just read this.

It strikes me as odd that those in authority have suspended the Doctors concerned. Why? They say that it did not involve patients, and patient care was never compromised during this sillyness. If this is true, then sillyness is all it was - no harm done to anyone. But now, a presumably busy A&E is even shorter on staff because these doctors and nurses have been suspended.

That's not sillyness. That's madness.

Writing

I like writing.

I'm not talking about the process of academic writing, although I do like the sense of achievement when a chapter, paper, article or lecture is finished (this does not happen often enough - especially the personal research related ideas there!). I enjoyed writing my PhD thesis, although the final deadline and the re-writing processes immediately before that were not too much fun. What I'm talking about here is actually writing. By hand. With a pen.

On my way to my admin job the other day - I know this sounds strange - I felt an almost overwhelming need to write something. Anything. And I realised how much time I have spent at a computer, or shuffling papers, scribbling quick, untidy, notes or using mini post-its to mark pages relevant to lectures. It's been AGES since I have sat down and written by hand anything longer than a sentence or two, a 'happy birthday, love from me' in a card or a brief phone message scribble. And at work I had to go straight back into scribbling notes, emailing, filing etc.

Today I addressed an envelope in my very best joined up handwriting and I felt strangely pleased. I like how my careful handwriting looks (not wanting to boast too much, it is quite pretty) and it is much more satisfying than typing a letter or an envelope.

Marking undergraduate exam scripts earlier in the summer, I realised how few of them hand-write anything (either that, or the teaching of handwriting in schools has declined since I was taught 'joined up writing' and then allowed to use a fountain pen). I know no one does their best writing under the time-pressured conditions of exams, but still, some were barely legible.

I think the decline of handwriting is very sad. Not that I would do away with the wonders of word processing packages for my academic writing - cut, copy, paste makes drafting so much easier (even if sometimes starting to draft is actually easier for me with a pen and paper). But I am going to start doing more handwriting - letters to friends for example. I think - even in the increasingly computerised world where communication is almost instant through emails and social networking sites - people like to get mail. I know I do. And perhaps that is precisely because it is so rare for people to take time to actually write anything these high-tech, high-speed days.

I don't *think* that was what I said...

After some serious consideration, weighing up how much work it will be and balancing that against making my CV shiny, and generally looking like I know what I'm talking about in the world of early modern literature, I agreed to take over writing the summary of the year's work in renaissance literature studies. Someone I know by association with Supervisor emailed me out of the blue saying he now has post doc funding and his project means he is too busy to do it now, but if I was interested he would suggest me as his successor. It is one of very few times that 'who you know' has actually worked for me. (I say this with some hesitation, knowing how much work I'll have to do in quite a short time, but it will be very shiny on my CV).

The guy who is handing over to me sent me an email saying he'd already sent for some of the books to review, and he would post them on to me, but he would like to keep two of them for his own research. So he suggested two options and asked which I would prefer:

a) He would keep the books, read them, write a short review paragraph for each of them and send that to me to be silently included in my own review

or

b) He will send the books to me, I can read and do my own review and then send those particular ones back.

As much as I was tempted to option a) - less work for me - I decided that I was uncomfortable passing his work off as mine both because I fundamentally object to plagiarism, and because if the comments are going to have my name to them, then I want to have read what 'I' am commenting on. (And you know that the one time anyone asks me about anything I've written, it will be about one of these books that I actually haven't read). So I sent him an email supporting option b), and promising to read those ones first and get them back to him ASAP. I told him I'd be on holiday for a couple of weeks, and asked him not to send anything until after I got back to make sure they don't get lost in being held at the post office. He said that was fine.

Today I got an email telling me he had put the books in the post, and could I let him know when they arrive. [Fine; yes; no problem]. But it also said 'I have kept a few as I mentioned earlier - shall I send you the reviews to add into your piece?'

Erm... I don't think that was what I said. And really, if you'd already decided what you were going to do, why did you even ask?

In case of emergency, take laptop

My conference accommodation which they claimed was a hotel on campus was really a 'done up' halls of residence. We did get en suite rooms, but we also got halls-sized single beds (about 2/3 the size of an ordinary single), a grotty old wardrobe, a desk with a lamp, a chair, and central heating over which we had absolutely no control.

Sound familiar?

One night - having taken ages to get to sleep because it was so hot due to the heating over which I had no control - I was woken by a very loud siren. A little disorientated, I initially thought it was the alarm clock in the room and I tried to turn it off, but when I had woken up properly, I discovered it was, in fact, the fire alarm. I got out of bed, put on my jeans and shoes which I had put on the chair (I don't remember consciously laying them out for speedy dressing, but I think I had subconsciously slipped back into 'living in halls' mode, and we had so many fire alarms that I got in the habit of doing that) grabbed a cardigan and left the building.

Postgrad students, TAs, lecturers, senior lecturers and big named professors all standing outside at 2am in their pyjamas is a great levelling experience. Some with no cardigan / coat, some with no shoes etc - but 60% of them were clutching laptops to their chest. In the middle of the night, the fire alarm sounds and the very first thing they thought of was picking up their work.

So I wonder, does it make me a bad academic that I can honestly say that had I taken my laptop to the conference, I would have left it in my room?

[In case anyone is concerned, there was no fire - false alarm]

The wearing of jeans to work

Whenever I begin teaching a new group of students, I make an effort not to wear jeans on seminar days. This, I think, stems from my days as a postgrad teaching assistant, when I felt I had to look semi-authoritative because I didn't have any Dr. title to provide this authority. I tried then to project to the students (and myself?) an image proving I was qualified to teach them. I suppose I now do this as a confirmation of that. I set off with the intention of wearing 'tutor clothes' every week, but as term goes on I start to slip, and by the end of the year I'm wearing jeans to seminars. I figure by that point if they don't see me as their 'tutor' jeans won't make a difference (and I do like to promote equality of ideas and opinions between tutor and students in my seminars!). I have never given a lecture in jeans. This, I know, is a matter of maintaining my own confidence.

For my new admin job, I wouldn't wear jeans to work. Not as a spur to my confidence, but because my image of office/secretarial workers is smarter than that (smart casual, not necessarily suits). None of the other ladies in my office wear jeans either. Presumably they feel the same as I do.

There are only three men in the administrative unit in which I work. One at my level (lowly admin assistant), one is my line-manager's manager, and the other is my line-manager's manager's manager. Both top level administrators wear suits and ties for work. Lowly administrator wears jeans and a sweater or a casual shirt. No one seems to question this. No one seems to object. But I wonder what would happen if I turned up in jeans and a hoodie tomorrow? I'm sure someone would notice, and probably they would object.

So, ignoring my seminar jeans issue (which is, I acknowledge) entirely of my own imposition) what do you think about wearing jeans for work? Do you think its appropriateness is gendered? Am I imposing my own rules again?

All Change, please

I suppose for background to this post you need to know that I have been dating The Physio for around two months now. I've kept it a bit quiet, because it's very new, and it seems to be going well, and I didn't want to jinx it!

Last weekend The Physio was going away to North Eastern City for a stag night. Aspiring Author, my friend from the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss, wanted to come and visit me and the Little Dog, so I thought that would be an ideal weekend. I could then spend the weekend with Aspiring Author without neglecting The Physio, or not spending enough time with Aspiring Author because I'm also trying to include The Physio (and I thought that Aspiring Author might be a bit uncomfortable sleeping in my living room if The Physio was in my room).

The Physio joked about me spending the weekend with another man the first time he went away, but did add that he wasn't really the jealous sort and that I "don't seem like the cheating type". I'd say this makes him a reasonably good judge of character, although I'm not entirely sure what the 'cheating type' is like.

But I'm pretty sure that I must have looked like the 'cheating type' at the train station on Sunday, when I walked into the station with Aspiring Author, hugged him (he's a good and long standing friend) as he got on the train, bought a coffee, walked over to the next platform, sat for 10 minutes waiting for the next train, hugged The Physio as he arrived and left the station with him.

I wonder what the station staff thought...

Re-reading and re-thinking

For the course I am teaching on Contemporary Women's Writing, I'm re-reading (and preparing a lecture on) Jackie Kay's Trumpet.

I have taught this novel before, a long time ago, to first year students at the university in the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss. I remember thinking it was a useful text for teaching (identity/gender/sexuality/narrative structure), but that I didn't like or enjoy it very much. I chose to put it on the Women's Writing course because I thought it worked well with some of the other novels I'm teaching, because it's a gift if you want students to engage with theory, particularly Butler's arguments on performativity, and lastly because this course is a LOT of work for me, so I put on as many texts as I could that I had already read / taught. I know the last reason is not a good pedagogical reason, but when you are only being paid a TA contact-hourly rate to write a new lecture every week on a subject which is well outside your research area you need to give yourself a break sometimes! And I wouldn't have put it on the course if it did not work well with the other texts and provide excellent theoretical discussion possibilities etc etc.

I'm hoping that my third-year women's writing class will find it interesting, and engage with it on a level which my former first-year students could not, just by virtue of being first year students. I'm hoping that this group will not ask me how Millie and Joss had sex. I'm hoping that the essays will not include painfully embarrassing sentences which end with "but as my tutor pointed out, we don't want to know about that" ("Dear second-marker, I did indeed say this, but not in this context; I was making a salient point about difference, privacy and instrusion, rather than being totally prudish as this implies"). I'm hoping that these students will all have read the novel, and already have some opinions on how we might talk about it in a women's writing class.

But what has surprised me about re-reading the novel is how much better I like it this time round. And not just because I myself am now much more confident dealing with the ideas with which it engages, and the theories we might use in discussion. Or because I am now a much more experienced, confident tutor. More that I like the novel. I've actually found it so moving in places that I had to put it down so I didn't cry into my latte whilst reading it in a large coffee chain's comfy chairs.

I have realised that the last two novels that I have put on this course are not happy novels (the next one is The God of Small Things, which is not cheery, but is one of the most beautifully written novels I have ever read). I think I'll have to take them chocolate at the end of the course to raise the happy levels.

But I stand by my course text choices. And I'm glad I have the opportunity to look at Trumpet again with new eyes.

People

I like people. I usually trust people until they give me reason not to - yes, sometimes I get hurt that way, but I think it's better that than living in permanent suspicion and cynicism. I believe that most people are good people most of the time.

But today I'm disappointed. Today, people - specific and general - let me down.

One of my former students who is academically Very Bright had asked me to write a reference for his postgraduate applications. I learned through various grapevines before I agreed to this that other members of staff had refused because of his appallingly bad attendance. I decided, particularly because his attendance had not been too bad in my classes, and his record showed that his attendance this year was much better than last, that it would be unfair to condemn someone so Very Bright forever in academia because he didn't have his act together in his second year. If he were a student in Scotland, he would have had another year to redeem himself before such judgements were made. So, I agreed to write his references. He asked that I mention the particularly high grade he received for an independently planned and researched extended essay, and I said I would, of course, but to maintain my own and the Institution's academic integrity, I would also have to mention the disciplinary action over his attendance in the previous year. I would, I said, try to make this more positive by emphasising the drastic improvement in his attendance this year. I haven't been able to write them before today, and I happened to mention this to Colleague Who Worries Too Much (she is teaching this student this year), and it turns out that since I said I'd mention that his attendance was much improved, he has missed 3 or 4 classes without giving a reason. Now this may be a coincidence, but I'm not sure I haven't been manipulated here. I am taking the comments on his drastic improvement out of my reference.

More generally, I slipped and fell down some stairs today. Nothing is broken, and there is no major injury, although my ankles are aching a little. But I was in a very public place, and there were lots of people around - in and outside shops, standing in groups, wandering past - and not one of them, despite my loud shout of surprise / pain even looked to see if I was OK. Not a single one of them.

You let me down today, people. You let me down.