Everybody remembers their exams: the tight feeling at the top of the stomach; drinking water as advised, only to need the toilet three quarters of the way through; tsking when someone’s phone has gone off; the horror when you realise that phone is yours; the cotton wool head at the final question with only three minutes left – all familiar I’m sure. Yet in Scotland, this year is going to be slightly different. A new qualification – National Five – is being introduced, the first exam to be run in conjunction with the Curriculum for Excellence. Curriculum for Excellence seemed a great step forward in education, recognising the importance of creativity, problem based learning and building skills outside the normal memory test associated with doing well at school. All good stuff – who wouldn’t support these ideas?
Yet, the new English exam is very similar to, well, the old one. In fact, it could be argued that it tests an even narrower set of skills than the Standard Grade exam it is replacing.
The reason for stating this is that the new exam places the onus on answering questions on texts studied in class, while the old Standard Grade gave the candidates an opportunity to demonstrate their skill in writing in a number of different ways. Any creative aspect of writing is relegated to the folio of writing which the candidates have to prepare in class and which is worth less. Please do not misunderstand: I am not defending the Standard Grade, which had its faults, such as a folio which was too unwieldy. On the surface, this appears to be a non-issue – the pupils do not know the questions in the new exam beforehand, so they will of course need ingenuity to answer. The problem, however, with ingenuity is that it is ethereal; a task might present no problems for a candidate one day, yet the next day an almost identical task may be completely beyond them. And on results day, a teacher offering up their hands and stating: “They must have had an off-day,” rings hollow. Understandably, teachers are at pains to remove any variables, and limit the need for ingenuity, in fact ignoring many aspects that the Curriculum for Excellence sought to inculcate.
The reason I state this is purely because I do it myself. The most efficient way to get candidates to be able to answer an exam question on a text is to write a model essay which answers a similar question, the pupils can then go and learn this and using only a bit of savvy can adapt this to the questions in the exam. Minimal reading of the text is needed. The exam is only a memory test.
Undoubtedly, candidates studying English should be able to demonstrate a knowledge of literary techniques, but couldn’t this be done in a more creative way? Perhaps, under exam conditions, producing a short text like a poem, short story or a short story themselves – even a short film, showing awareness of these literary techniques by using them for themselves. Even something like blogging, with its use of tagging and understanding of audience might be used. Why not?
What is more, we would more than likely find some real additions to the Scottish canon as a result, ensuring that Scottish Literature and the written Scottish identity continues to exist in a vibrant way.
Rob Manning did everything in his power to screw up the Curiosity rover’s landing on Mars last night. Manning not only cut radio signals to the Jet Propulsion Laboratory’s control room, but also simulated a hole being poked in the rover’s fuel system and solar flares flying toward the spacecraft.
Why would he do this?
Because he is the chief engineer for the rover mission, and wanted his team to be able to handle any worst-case scenario.
“Being a gremlin allows me to soul-search and look at all the things that I missed,” Manning told the Chicago Tribune in the days before last night’s landing.
Manning’s mischief would certainly get a thumbs up from management expert Margaret Heffernan. In a thought-provoking talk given at TEDGlobal 2012, Heffernan shared a counterintuitive lesson learned in her years running businesses and organizations — that conflict and opposition are essential for good thinking.
View original post 637 more words
The power of film and its ability to install an idea into the collective consciousness is something that it is impossible to overestimate. This is something that, ahead of the 2014 Scottish Independence Referendum, should exercise the minds of interested parties. For instance, ‘Braveheart’ was released close to eighteen years ago, yet continues to lay waste to the still maturing idea of an independent Scotland. Yes, the fact that it played fast and loose with the facts; that fact it was made by someone who has had little to do with Scotland; the fact that it implies that Scottish identity was a reaction to aggression, and so Scots were, in fact, defined by external influences and the fact that this identity that is portrayed as little more than a thrawn unwillingness to be pushed around is simplistic, but none of these criticisms are new to the cultural discourse surrounding the film. However, there is another aspect to the damage the film has done. A fifteen year old,when asked if she were in favour of Scotland becoming independent, gave the vehement response of: “Nuh. No really.” She was completely representative of the opinion of her school class, all of whom will be eligible to vote in the referendum. When pushed as to why, the reply came: “Well, all that Braveheart stuff seems a bit… daft. People that like it …” And this is the problem: all the ideas associated with an independent Scotland and its supporters, in the popular mind at least, cannot escape this Mel Gibson film, like branches floating downstream becoming ensnared with a larger branch. Furthermore, this warlike, and reactionary, plank of our national identity does not fit modern purposes, even provoking slight embarrassment when drunkenly trotted out at national football games. The Scandinavians have got over their association with the vikings after all.
Thankfully, it is not impossible to escape this state of affairs – thick strands of present Scottish identity are the result of fabrication and the nation has clasped them to its bosom. The association of tartan with clans and the brighter plaids we see in kilt hire shops all stem only from the mind of Sir Walter Scott, envisaged to impress the visiting British monarch, yet this association is enthusiastically supported by Scots. A kilts is more interesting and more versatile than a morning suit, after all.
So, at the moment, with the Scottish Independence Referendum looming, many Scots are overtly trying to find a way to weave more vivid, lively, strands into the plaid of identity, to modify its tone. And yes, it goes without saying that it is far easier to denigrate something old than it is to create something new. Add to this the elusive nature of something amorphous like identity, that hovers around the edges of consciousness anyway, something that changes, becomes less vibrant when pinned down or observed, and the difficulty of the task increases exponentially.
So what is to be done?
Perhaps Scots should cast their eyes back to Aristotle, paying heed to his adage that: “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act but a habit.” Habits are unconscious things but grow out of the repetition of conscious acts. Scotland should view identity as a living process, not as something crystalised in our past. If Scotland is to create a habit, a stream of acts from which it can look up, then look back upon and identify itself with, then a great effort has to be made. There has to be a sense of civic duty amongst the population. Have we seen this participation, this duty in the referendum debate so far? It seems that many wish to sit back and be convinced, or have had their attention drawn to the squabbling about oil.
Hopefully, with a government more suited to their needs, Scots would participate more, but it is a wry irony that until such a government exists, Scots might not take part in the process in enough numbers to create this government. But, say Scotland did become independent, how would it create the social capital needed to encourage people to habitually contribute, in as small or great a manner as they wish, to public life?
One of the most prepossessing answers to this problem comes from the manifesto of ‘The Collective’ a site that aims to build a Scottish identity through the creative arts.
“National movement is not based upon identity but of discovering an inclusive and outward looking way in which to ultimately develop better places for society to engage with one another.”
This is referring to architecture, but there is absolutely no reason for not extrapolating this idea and applying it to other areas. The internet, for example, provides non-physical spaces where ideas and opinions can grow and social media’s utility as a political tool has already been proven throughout the world. Closer to home, groups who get very little exposure through traditional means, such as ‘Crofters for Yes’, can find audiences cheaply. With the advent of internet phones, it is possible to fulfill Rousseau’s idea of every citizen having a vote on each law. It would show Scotland’s confidence in its people if it incorporated this idea in at least some form. Imagine the social capital that would create.
What is more, this idea, by not even trying to fix Scottish identity, makes it possible for it to exist at all. One of the main downfalls in trying to express Scottish identity is that a multitude of Scotlands exist: The Northern Isles are different from the Gaidhealtachd, are different from the Central Belt; the workers in our plants in our cities are different from call centre workers in the Highlands. Viewing being Scottish as a process, a living thing, with areas of discussion and interaction nurtured, would create a strong Scotland. In not attempting to catch and preserve a Scottish identity as handed down to us by others the people of Scotland would achieve freedom.
“The Romance of an Ugly Policeman” by P.G. Wodehouse
Crossing the Thames by Chelsea Bridge, the wanderer through London finds himself in pleasant Battersea. Rounding the Park, where the female of the species wanders with its young by the ornamental water where the wild-fowl are, he comes upon a vast road. One side of this is given up to Nature, the other to Intellect. On the right, green trees stretch into the middle distance; on the left, endless blocks of residential flats. It is Battersea Park Road, the home of the cliff-dwellers.
Police-constable Plimmer’s beat embraced the first quarter of a mile of the cliffs. It was his duty to pace in the measured fashion of the London policeman along the front of them, turn to the right, turn to the left, and come back along the road which ran behind them. In this way he was enabled to keep…
View original post 4,447 more words
Whoah ‘Hello’ magazine, so William and Kate are moving into a new house? Hold the (insert intrusive, catch-all swear in here) front page. Okay, I admit it: it’s unfair and myopic to denigrate a publication that includes information its target audience would find interesting, but I can never pass up an opportunity to express sarcasm, and, to be frank, the ease with which they’ve managed to gain a very comfortable living space is very unusual in this day and age. For the majority, being able to afford just the one house, with four windows at the front, never mind eighteen – yes, I counted – is a grinding slog. For some, and I include personal friends in this, things are even more difficult: they are working two jobs, so they leave the house at half past five in the morning, only returning at eight at night; they are working overtime every weekend; they are living like hermits, with no spending money, where even the smallest expenditure has to be budgeted. Yet my friends are still two or three years away from affording a deposit on a house that would be suitable for a family. They’re even too late to buy a council house. Surely life shouldn’t have to be so exhausting? These problems are neither William’s or Kate’s fault, but their situation brings the lives of the rest of us into stark relief. Of course, I sympathised with my friend and both admired and was astonished by their will and determination to achieve a home, and I wished that I could do something to help. But, to my abject shock and horror, my sympathies for my friend were tainted by selfishness. And this is why: the only real way of helping my friends and thousands of others like them who want to buy into home owning Britain is to make houses cheaper by building more houses. Simple. Great. Political parties: put house building at the very top of your priority list. However, and this is where my shameful selfishness kicks my good intentions in the groin, that would mean that MY house value would lessen, and that MY savings, scraped together and turned into bricks and mortar, would decrease. That may well amount to a lot of money. And here is the real question: am I a good enough person to vote for a political party that would genuinely aim to deflate house prices for the greater good? If I’d known that I’d be faced with this sort of moral choice, I might have foregone the house and invested in a pension or the stock market. Or a small business. The U.K.’s housing crisis is both insidious and divisive. Worse, the situation is barbed, like a fish hook, as millions might perceive that they have a lot to lose by changing the situation. It is of paramount importance then, that, as well as carrying out the moral duty of building more houses that our government, in whatever shape or form it may take over the coming years, also carries out the moral duty of looking after those who bought – perhaps unaware that they were doing so – into the home owning ideology of this country over the past few years. Perhaps they could sort out pensions? Perhaps oversee real wage increases? Perhaps then people will not have to put their life on pause while they wait to buy a decent house. Perhaps people might not have to look on as others struggle. Perhaps then people may get the opportunity to look at their house as a home.