Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Fiction, Faction, Fact...

What counts is not what is, but what your dream is.

I have been thinking about the gravity of facts and the liquidity of fiction.

How little of our lives is governed in fact?



What percentage of human disasters are down to natural catastrophes?



What percentage of human disasters are down to the dreams of others?

A family is wiped out by greed.

"Affaire Troadec: il a tué toute une famille à cause d'un héritage."

A whole people is wiped out by fiction.
"The Protocols of the Elders of Zion."

"Mein Kampf"


An election is lost and won by a faction because of facts or because of fiction?


A referendum is lost and won by a faction because of facts or because of fiction?



What do facts matter if the beliefs of those in power deny your right to exist?



The "facts" that matter to you or those experiences which you consider to be "facts" will surely be determined by your beliefs.

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” 
― Albert Einstein


A classroom preface.

I looked at the notes for the class, they had spent the week before learning about learning styles...

"All you need to know about 'the learning style myth' in two minutes."

A classroom.




I was sitting in the classroom last week with ten other teachers.

Six of them were sitting with me in a room in France, four of them were sitting in rooms in Finland, The USA, The UK and Poland.

What brought us together was a class and common interest in education.

What brought us together was friendship, curiosity and a desire to learn.

What brought us together were questions.

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.”

Albert Einstein

We were able to connect because of a smartphone and a Google hangout.

The phone was passed around the space so that the teachers in France could speak either individually or as a group with the distant teachers.

During the discussions, one common experience emerged - that of measurement.

We spoke of PISA, we spoke of "publish or perish".

Surely this obsession with "measurement" is grounded in belief, which if we decide so,  has little to do with education, perhaps a lot with "discipline" and "standards".

Surely the question we must ask is "whose standards are we attempting to satisfy"?

Surely the role of education is to demonstrate the weight of liquid in what appears to be solid.

As recent events in global stockmarkets have shown, economics is based on volatile liquidity.

Experts, always sound so "solid" and reliable until they are proved not to be.

Bernie Madoff 's 50 Billion Dollar Ponzi  Scheme.

When we talk of a "bottom line", it is perhaps an "economic reality" but therein lies the reality of power and a dominant ideology and the many lies which hide the manner of exploitation.

One of the teachers, Terry Elliott from Kentucky,  talked of "unschooling"  his kids which was, he termed "radical".

This fact was greeted by surprise and by interest by the other teachers present.

When I hear my kids talking of school in terms of incarceration, I wonder how crazy I am to send them there.

We spoke of the "Finnish miracle" with Maritta Riekki in Finland and learnt how "miracles" are sold.

The French teachers were particularly interested to get a first hand opinion of how Finnish education worked, as they had been sold the need to become more like the Finnish by the powers that be.

Often Maritta said, "less is more," the most important part of education is not facts but getting kids ot ask question and to think for themselves.

New dreams.

Many facts that we appear to be stuck with at the moment are the result of obsolete dreams.

There are those who will always hark back to a better time in the past and promise to take us there.

There have always been those with terrifying dreams.

There are those who will happily supply the means to achieve those dreams.
What we need are new dreams.


Education must not be about plying facts of the few, it must be about enabling new dreams for all.

Image: Trump as Gargoyle.

Footnotes.


faction1
ˈfakʃ(ə)n/
noun
noun: faction; plural noun: factions
  1. a small organized dissenting group within a larger one, especially in politics.

    "the left-wing faction of the party"

    synonyms:cliquecoteriecaucuscabalbloccampgroupgroupingsidesectorsectionwingarmbranchdivisioncontingentsetringlobbyMore
Origin
late 15th century (denoting the action of doing or making something): via French from Latin factio(n- ), from facere ‘do, make’.
faction2
ˈfakʃ(ə)n/
noun
  1. a literary and cinematic genre in which real events are used as a basis for a fictional narrative or dramatization.

    "the current vogue for faction seems about to overwhelm narrative history"
-faction
ˈfakʃ(ə)n/
combining form
  1. in nouns of action derived from verbs ending in -fy (such as liquefaction from liquefy ).
Translate faction to
Use over time for: faction

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Colander & condensation.



Blurring vision, veils of pitter patter, I turn inwards, envelopped in an armchair.

I stare at myself through pages turned.

I can not quite fathom the distance.

My vision is blurred by this present.

Any past of mine is already mist.

This is not a timeline. 

I am a mesh of memory, mood and marginalia.

Give me something solid to hang onto, goddam it.

All I see is condensation.

I draw out an ephemeral name.

Ensor, Condensor, Condensation...

That's it! I am bloody mist!

Goddam it, this is hardly reassuring.

A year stretches out through pages turned.

Is this a diary?

Are dates my coordinates?

I think not.

This is not a timeline.

It is a colander for the rain.


Footnote. 

I am a new man.

Colander...so that is what it was all along.

That thing, that thing in the kitchen drawer.

I shall not die colander ignorant.

Image credit

http://quiet-kingdom.tumblr.com/post/72650603401




Friday, January 2, 2015

A child's sighs.

Brownish greyish Irish sea, empty beach, deserted pier, assorted amusement arcades, John Lewis's department store...






Mrs Scottner's 360° view from her house at the top of Blackpool Tower is exceptional if somewhat mundane.

Despite the undoubted inconveniences: high heating bills, lack of garden, mass of tourists in high season, the long lift-ride to pick up the milk and the Blackpool Herald, Mrs Scottner would never imagine living elsewhere.

Mrs Scottner and Blackpool Tower go together like cheese and crackers, cockles and mussels.

Don't try to Google her.

You will most probably not get any hits.

Invisible to anyone who might search for her, Mrs Scottner has now been Blackpool Tower's sole resident for the past forty seven years or so.

Mrs Scottner has been extraordinarily resilient...

A child's eyes. 

I can still remember the early designs for her house.

I could probably still rebuild her house with the same Lego bricks that I used when I was a child of five.

I remember pretty much the assembly of the framework, the windows and the flat roof.

If I think back, I can still remember that Mrs Scottner and I had long conversations.

"Who are you speaking with Simon?"

"I am speaking with Mrs Scottner."

"Who is Mrs Scottner?"

A child of five sighs. 

"She's the lady that lives at the top of Blackpool Tower."

"But nobody lives at the top of Blackpool Tower."

A child of five sighs.

Adults are so literal.

I was reading an adult article yesterday.

It was entitled : 2014: The Death of the Postmodern Novel and the Rise of Autofiction.

As I was reading, a few lines caught my attention. They were written by Ben Lerner in an interview in The Believer,

"My concern is how we live fictions, how fictions have real effects, become facts in that sense, and how our experience of the world changes depending on its arrangement into one narrative or another."

A little further on Jonathan Sturgeon, the article's author writes:

"All of these novels point to a new future wherein the self is considered a living thing composed of fictions. Although critics will endlessly retread tired discussions concerning fiction vs. reality (and therefore the exhausted conversation about “realism”), that isn’t really what’s at stake here. What’s happening is that new novels — like the abovementioned 10:04The Wallcreeper, and My Struggle — are redistributing the relation between the self and fiction. Fiction is no longer seen as “false” or “lies” or “make-believe.” Instead it is more like Kenneth Burke’s definition of literature as “equipment for living.” Fiction includes the narratives we tell ourselves, and the stories we’re told, on the path between birth and death."

Is Mrs Scottner less real than I?

It has been a long time that I have known her.

I am struggling to hear her voice now.

Give me a little time...


Image credits:

Blackpool Tower at Top facing Pleasure Beach
View of Central pier from the Top of Blackpool Tower
© Copyright Eddie Reed and licensed for reuse under Creative Commons Licence
http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2757856