Showing posts with label counting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label counting. Show all posts

Sunday, September 24, 2017

At last...

Look. They are just thistles.

It's just a wasteland.

But it mattered to me at that moment.

It matters to me now.



I stopped.

I framed.

I paid attention.

Thistles. Just thistles. No arty filters.

It was just another day.

Today.

I was caught between conflicting feelings.

"Fuck it all."

"I'll read that book."

That book by that well connected, well respected, well accepted peer.

I reviewed the choices.

"Fuck it all."

That book.

"Pay attention to those students." 
"Show them you are there"

I was here.

Conflicting feelings....

Conflicting feelings...

Power to choose.

I chose the students.

A considered choice it was.

I took the spreadsheet.

The students couldn't do that.

Data.

Just fucking data.

It wouldn't really have mattered.

They were just students.

I clicked on a link.

It was a person, a real person.

A person with fears, hopes, expectations...

No expectations...

Low expectations...

A person, with memories, with stories, with stories to write.

"Fuck it all."

What is more important?

It clicked.

This wasn't really work.

It was life.

LIFE.

I got caught up in the joy, the curiosity, the responsibility that was a click away.

I clicked, I measured my words, I wanted the moment to count.

I am just a teacher.

They were just thistles.

She was just a student.

Make it fucking count.

I counted.

I even timed it.

With a fucking iPhone.

It took me two hours.

At last...

Two hours for twenty people.

I calculated.

6 minutes per person.

What counts?

How long is a song?

You don't need so much time.

A word, a reference, a link, a picture, a song.

Just a word.

Just a second.

Just a déclic.

Just a song.

"Fuck it all."

Another person.

Binoche.

Her again.

I shall go and Google her here.

Touches of sense...

There was a teacher they were talking about.

She was talking about her.

Being her.

For the other person.

For her.

So many years after.

At last...

There was a song on the TV.

I posted it here.

To mark the moment.

To remember an instant.


AT LAST.

"Fuck it all."

I'll read the book after.

I'll do the paper, the conference after.

What counts?

The applause?

The status?

The money?

Touches of sense...

I received a couple of mails.

Just students.

They said: "Thank you."

In so many words.

Nothing else.

Counts.

Interstellar on TV.

I am not watching.

I am writing.

I am aware of...

Etta James on Youtube.

Jazz chilling out on the sofa.

Another day.

I am here.

This was life.





Saturday, September 26, 2015

Our days are numbered.

53, I am 53.

It's 16:33.

Pour 20cl 
386 kl
90 Kcal
5%

Crikey. only 90 Kcal.

It's 16:35

What time is it in Kathmandhu?

How many words? 

How many words will I write?

How many words must I write?

How much is the tax? 
How many days before the 10% rise? 
How many days before the fine? 


How much? How many? How much? How many?

How many hours do I have till the end of time?

What time is it?

OUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED!

How many words will I speak?

How many marks will they get?

What will the average be?

WHAT WILL THE AVERAGE BE?


Who will top the scores? 
Who will top the scores? 

Will it be me? 
Will it be me?
Will it be me?

How much was he paid in a month?
How much was he paid in a month?


  • What is your score?
  • What is your age?
  • What is your risk?
  • What is your risk?
  • What is your interest?
  • What is your heart rate?


How much will you pay?
How much will you pay?
How much will you pay?

N=How many?

How many words? How many words? How many words? How many words?
How many words? How many words? How many words? How many words?


COUNT. 

I WON'T COUNT.

ENOUGH. 

16:51

-ENDS-



Tuesday, April 28, 2015

The Last Post.

That's it.

This is the last post.

I have ten minutes to write it.



I have to make it count.

What counted when all the counting is done?

Your touch, our company, the shared laughter, our hearts beating, your perfume, an out-stretched hand, the morning light,  the breeze on our faces, the light rain in our hair, that music that moves, a few lines of a poem...

Does this count for everything?

No more time.

Nothing else counts now.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Numbered stories.


Sticks and stones may break my bones...

Numbers will surely kill me.


Collected number stories.

I) A prelude of Bach. 

(I never learnt to play his preludes, it's a pity)

Suddenly, playing the cello took on a new importance. 

This time it was for money.  

I was eleven maybe twelve years old.
I felt pressure rising in my head.  
I didn't really know why.

By the end of the week, it had become unbearable.

I tried screaming.

It changed nothing. 

As the days counted down, so the pressure rose. 

Playing now was punishing.

I hated the cello from that day on.  

It had become an instrument of torture.

I didn't tell anybody. 

I kept it to myself...

I gave up music shortly after.

II) Weeping is not a counting noun.

Their eyes well up with tears. 

Their eyes are veiled out of pain. 

So many years of not counting up to many.
So many years of not counting up to much.

I can feel the anger rising in me.

I think of the wasted human resources and of the hours of alienation.

It makes me want to weep.

Everybody speaks a language of some sort.

Not everybody speaks at school.

Classroom language, that's what they call it.

"Can you repeat please?"
"I don't understand"

After years of not understanding, no amount of repetition will change anything.

Silence hurts less than ridicule.

III) Lies, damned lies...

(The following refers specifically to my French University context)

"At the Baccalaureat students will have a B2 level in a foreign language."

No they will not.
No 90% of the students we teach do not.

"At the teacher training school pre-service teachers will have a B2 level in a foreign language."

No they will not.
No 98% of the students we teach do not.

Faced with their own lies, what do they do?

They pretend that they (the lies or the students) don't exist.

Faced with their lies, what do we do?

a) Pretend that these students don't exist 
(good idea - pretend that the exam is at a B2 level, the numbers will lie) 

b) Fail 90% of the students 
(bad idea - failure is the teacher's fault and the students are not happy, the numbers don't lie)

c) Ignore their lies and use grades to help the students make some sort of meaningful progress.
(maybe the best idea - even if the numbers don't add up immediately, they will...with a little practice)


IV) Outnumbered

The mathematics are pretty clear (even for me):

There are more students than teachers.
There are more students who speak French than English.
There are not enough hours of class to hope for them to make the grade.

The students, even those who like English, will only play along in class for a grade.

We have no choice but to count, to measure the (potential) impact of our teacherly actions...

GRADES = MONEY.

MONEY = YOUR WORTH

As we are obliged to have a single grading system for all the students regardless of their level, if we grade them purely on their linguistic level, we might as well just give them a grade at the start of their university cursus and cut the classes. The grade will not significantly change.

Sudden evolutions (not linearly managed progress) are possible given the right learning conditions.

Such evolutions are impossible with classical teaching methods.

The grade may significantly change if there is a sudden surge of motivation, an integration into a community where the language is used, a major increase in the time spent engaging in the language.  

As we are not obliged to slavishly follow a particular program, we can make courses as adaptable as possible by concentrating on the following:

  • Diversifying learning spaces 
  • Caring for the students as individuals
  • Regular mentoring of individuals or small groups
  • Encouragement of peer mentoring inside and outside of institution
  • Student selected formal collaborative of individual project based learning 
  • Student selected individual or formal makes from formal make bank
  • Encouragement of all forms of informal learning
  • The development of digital literacies
  • The development of online/offline personal learning networks

V) Negotiating contracts

As we are able to adapt grading schemes to our courses we are able to concentrate on increasingly negotiated criteria for evaluation.  

We put the emphasis on evaluating: 

1) Engagement of learners to make some sort of meaningful progress in an area which they choose.

This progress (not necessarily linguistic) may be a result of formal or informal learning.
  
2) The autonomy and reflection of learners in their learning.

We are attempting to enable them to take control of their own learning in the spaces that they choose and within the networks which we try to help them to develop.

3) The mastery in certain tasks which are defined in relation to their academic or professional objectives or by the learner personally.

4) The linguistic competence within the particular tasks and during interviews. 

VI) Numbers talk

If we really want people to learn a language (or other) then we really need to enable them to connect with communities or networks within which they will be able to develop outside the classroom.

I never learnt French before I was introduced into communities within which I could find people and cultural artefacts with which I could identify. 

Learners who are really engaged in their learning do not count the hours.  

If a learner is self-directed, autonomous, connected with a group of stimulating co-learners, accompanied by respected master learners, learning is more effective and more cost effective...

VII) Measuring individuals 

If measuring individuals with numbers results in a loss of self-worth and learner motivation, it is not only not cost-effective it may be ultimately abusive.

If measuring individuals learning only concentrates on short term learning of easily measurable items or skills it does not take into account the complexity and unpredictability of life-time learning. 

If measuring individuals denies the influence of their social context and the networks with which they are connected it is a denial of social reality.

If measuring individuals denies them the  possibility to freely explore their talents, give useful feedback to learning mentors, connect widely with people outside the classroom with whom they can identify with, we are doing less than we can conceivably do.


VIII) Body counts

Some people's bodies speak louder than words.

"On a scale of 1-10 - where 10 is really painful - how much does this hurt?"

That's what the nurse asked my daughter when she was having stitches.

Those numbers made sense to my daughter. 

The nurse was trying to help her through a learning episode.

I don't think that numbers are not useful.

I think that numbers like other symbolic systems may enable us to communicate pleasure, pain, proficiency...all manner of stuff.

I think that we have much progress to make in measuring the impact of teachers on learning...

I think this is where Dave Cormier's work on rhizomatic learning is so valuable.


Foot note and Note to Self.

I am not happy with this article. 

It changed direction after reading Nick Kearney's post 


It is not a reply to his post. 

It has become part of a process of ordering my thinking about counting and measuring...

I am going to come back to this and his post at a later date, when I have thought things through more clearly.

Much to ponder...























Friday, April 24, 2015

Black wholes in time.


What is this madness?

What the hell were we doing watching Luton against  West bloody Bromwich Albion?

I suppose it passed the time.

It took our mind off other things.

There we were watching the most boring game of football (soccer) of recent years (ever) and then with a little change of the rules we were both on the edges of our seats. 

My friend introduced me to the concept of spread-betting.

There are markets for everything. 

You decide how many corners there will be in a match and then you place money on your best guess.

I googled 'spread-betting' and the writers of the page had obviously read my blog.

Football spread betting with Spreadex can turn even the most uninspiring 0-0 draw into an edge-of-the-seat experience. Spreadex offers a multitude of football spread betting markets on hundreds of games played around the world each week.

http://www.spreadex.com/sports/get-started/football-spread-betting/

It was one of the most memorable crap games of football (soccer) that I can remember and the score?

0 - 0 draw.

What is it about numbers, about counting which drives us crazy?

HOW MUCH DO YOU LOVE ME?

Dave Cormier in his week 2 prompt of #rhizo15 asks us to count and my mind is spinning from Schizophrenia to Quadrophenia to Rhizo-degradable tshirts.

What the hell is going on?


 I have already blogged about this insanity.

Here are just four posts which refer in some way to the numbers game, whether it be money, grades, teaching, mountaineering.

Give me money.

Disciplined minds

Mind the gap.

Because they are there.

At heart.

Numbers are infinitely generative of ideas, dreams, energy, games, plastic surgery, homicides...

Why on earth are we so obsessed with our measurements?


I slept on the question.

We escape one black hole to fear falling in another.  The night was long...

THANK YOU GOD I WOKE UP.

I woke up and came to the conclusion that it must be to do with the black holes which await us.

Our days are numbered.

Our fate is singular.

I looked at seventeen generations on my family tree.

Do you know what they had in common?

BLACK HOLES.

Whatever they had done, however many steps they had taken, however many places they had seen, they had all disappeared into some black hole.

My end is nigh.




"Time"

Time - He's waiting in the wings
He speaks of senseless things
His script is you and me boys

Time - He flexes like a whore
Falls wanking to the floor
His trick is you and me, boy

Time - In Quaaludes and red wine
Demanding Billy Dolls
And other friends of mine
Take your time

The sniper in the brain, regurgitating drain
Incestuous and vain,
and many other last names
I look at my watch it say 9:25 and I think
"Oh God I'm still alive"

We should be on by now [x2]
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la [repeat]

You - are not a victim
You - just scream with boredom
You - are not evicting time

Chimes - Goddamn, you're looking old
You'll freeze and catch a cold
'Cause you've left your coat behind
Take your time

Breaking up is hard, but keeping dark is hateful
I had so many dreams,
I had so many breakthroughs
But you, my love, were kind, but love has left you
dreamless
The door to dreams was closed.
Your park was real dreamless
Perhaps you're smiling now,
smiling through this darkness
But all I had to give was the guilt for dreaming

We should be on by now [x5]
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la [repeat]

Yeah, time!