A few weeks earlier, I recall being beside myself, weeping to a much revered, more experienced female colleague about the death of my professional life “Who will take the Lit class?”/ “I don’t want to give up the Australian History group!” Her counsel that all of that just so paled in comparison to the experience of parenthood that I was about to have was no consolation. After all, until then, maybe unhealthily, my professional life was everything.

It turned out that my colleague was right – in the greater scheme of things, who was taking the Literature class and whether the students would have access to the founding documents of Melbourne did not matter. I was happy as a parent but also happy to be a working one. So, at 14 weeks, I returned part time (several hours a day, 4 days a week) to teaching those senior classes.

At the time, this did not worry me, parents do what they have to do and we all make choices whether they are informed or not. My choice meant that I would have to find day care for my child four days per week, which, fortunately I did. I am not sure about other urban centres, but long term daycare was more competitive than getting your kid into Eton.

Underpinning these choices was all the angst about whether your kid was going to be looked after well enough. This was the matter that should be of most concern to me, I felt. I always trusted my instinct when walking into the centres and sensed whether it had a good feeling about it. Did the kids seem happy, were the staff friendly without being obsequious, were there many rising inflections? I was fortunate (and yes, it is fortune) to place my son in a daycare run by the City of Melbourne.

Sure, there may not have been computers, flashy ceiling ornaments (presumably denoting “fun”) but the carers were friendly, often on the floor playing with kids and a pleasant chaos that accompanies young children.

Back then, an Early Years Framework had yet to be developed, there was little reporting in relation to the actual child. I remember one day that there was a parent survey as to their thoughts on the implementation of a daily report book. To me, it was ludicrous. A layer of trouble for the staff to fill in “Alex enjoyed the blocks today” (shaking head) when they could have been planning or interacting with the children.  I think I actually wrote a note saying how I objected to the concept and that it was pandering to middle class anxieties. Nevertheless, it was overwhelmingly received as a positive idea. I guess it was my own guilt talking – here were professionals who, in my opinion, were (and still are) vastly underpaid for the work that they do.

Fast forward 5 years  to 2007 – the day care journey is not over for me – I am pregnant with my daughter,  who is born in January and my son starts school in the same month. This time, I resolve to take at least 6 months leave – I am still working in the education sector but probably not in an environment  as structured as school life. After 5 months, I return because some projects have arisen and, quite frankly I could do with some other intellectual pursuits. As an aside, those first five months, though, were those in my life where I can remember being very happy.

So. Childcare. Hmm. What to do.

My initial inquiries were not promising and even though I desperately wanted to return to the “home away from home” as provided by the City of Melbourne there would not be a place for my daughter for at least two months. Did it matter that I had been there? (No) Would it have made a difference if I put her name down on the waiting list in utero? (no) Could I bribe? (No*). So I was left to place my child in two centres, privately operated, both of which had the most heinous names, it is hard to decide which one of them was worse.

One of these centres was fairly new and had all of the childcare accoutrements that I suspect would be quite appealing to new parents: brand new buildings, light airy rooms, a tasteful prospectus presented in an equally tasteful presentation folder and staff in brightly coloured polo shirts which seemed to have the same effect upon their morale as the hats did in that episode of The Simpsons where Marge suggests “Funny Hat Day” at the nuclear power plant. It was pointed out to me that my daughter would have her own portfolio. Obviously, this was meant to impress me – I am almost certain they had “graduations” with gowns and mortar boards.

A couple of the carers were excellent, and I am most appreciative for their work, but as a cohort, a staff, there was definitely a depressed feeling amongst them. Despite the computers, new toys and visiting hairdressers the feeling at the centre did not cultivate reassurance. Invariably, and I do stress this, whenever I collected my daughter the staff were cleaning benches or writing in books or reports. This was no doubt to fit with the centre’s policy / regime. During that time, I never felt so guilty about leaving my child in childcare.

It was much joy then when a place was available at the City of Melbourne. It was reassuring to see some of the same carers there who had looked after my son, and new staff who were enthusiastic about their work. Visits by community groups, animal residents, excursions to the library, the markets, the zoos all form part of the memorable moments at the childcare. But most of all, the guilt, which had not, by any means, disappeared, certainly had dissipated and the joy I have always had collecting my daughter seeing the staff playing patiently with children, talking to them, singing with them, organising them has been great. And still, somehow, maybe diligence (?), good planning (?) there is always  an absolute thesis about their activities each week – where they find the time to do it, I will never know. (I still hold the same attitude towards those reports, by the way..)

Anyway here I am ten years on and I (and my children) are leaving the childcare journey. Quite a relationship is forged when you are involved with one institution almost every day for a decade: I feel very emotional about departing because here are people who have looked after my children sometimes for longer than I have had to physically care for them. The guilt of leaving my children never disappeared completely,  but knowing that when I leave that little smiling face peering out the window, I know that she is with good hearts, minds and hands a comfort that any parent would appreciate.

*no actual bribe was offered

by David Stanley via Panoramio

Antigua in 150 words or less

Antigua is one of the Carribean Islands that was inhabited by the Ciboney then Arawak then Carib peoples. Christopher Columbus was the first European to come in contact with the island in 1493 but it was nearly 200 years later in 1632 that the English colonised the small island. Many slaves from the West Indies were used to work in island’s sugar plantations.

Horatio Nelson spent some time on Antigua before he became renowned as the English naval hero. As senior naval officer, Nelson got the local colonists offside who had well established trade with the United State of America when he tried to enforce the Navigation Acts which forbade any trade with nations other than those of the British Empire.

One museum at Antigua?

The main one is the Museum of Antigua and Barbuda which is housed in the oldest European building on the island, the St. John’s Courthouse built in 1750. This link was inactive at the time of writing.*

Guides like the Lonely Planet suggest that the museum is quaint  but I think that museums without fancy museology can be quite interesting – the fact that it’s community run suggests financial resources may be meagre.

What are some interesting things about the museum collection?

Arawakian house reconstruction

The collection relating to slave trade seems to interest visitors.

Viv Richards’ cricket bat.

* Laughing: The very informative Historical and Archeaological Society Newsletter which is interesting in its own right does direct you to the right link “to our new website without the ‘s’” www.antiguamuseum.com

Virtual History Museum @historygrid for Quarantine Station virtual world

It’s no secret that I like museums. I use the collections and resources of many museums for teaching history and share the fruits of (my) bounty when I come across gems that I think that others will enjoy.

I am currently writing a teacher’s companion for the Australian Curriculum – particularly looking at the world history overviews. This is quite a distinguishing feature of the new curriculum, especially in the secondary years (7 – 10). In my own research, I have been drawing upon many resources from museums, big and small. I thought I would like to document some of these little finds. I like the idea of taking a world tour through a collection of countries with my kids using the exact science of spinning Google Earth and choosing a random place.

The first one, though, is from Antigua …

Fashions come and go. In the 1980s, there was a fashion to wear a style of denim jeans that were very tight – so tight that I would have to lie back on the bed and pull the zipper up with a coat hanger. My niece, now 17, is enamoured with a similar style of jeans which are based on the same principle but have a different name which is more reflective of the culture in which she lives: “skinny jeans”. Trends come and go, fashions come and go in the vein of that nonsensical aphorism “same but different”.

A story which was reported upon in The Australian and The Age newspapers earlier this week reminded me of the fashions that come and go in education and the ways that teachers adapt to these trends. A review of the University of Melbourne’s history programs has recommended that the Australian Studies programs be scrapped because of the drastic decline of student interest in the programs offered. In one of the reports, the head of the School for Historical and Philosophy Studies, Professor Trevor Burnard, admitted that “There isn’t as much demand for a certain type of Australian history as there used to be” alluding to the review’s recommendations that courses with Australian history content should have a broader appeal by focusing on the history in the context of contemporary issues.

The observation of a declining interest in Australian history, especially the nation’s broad narrative, is not a new one. The public is well-versed in the common catch cry that is most reported by the press is that students find Australian History “boring” and that they have “done it to death by the end of year ten”. Yet what they seem to miss is the fact that, as Anna Clark’s research also shows, that students value the way in which history taught as well. In Victoria, there is some repetition of Australian History topics in the VELS which may support an argument that the topic is “done to (its) death”. However, good practice should mean that the topics are approached in an engaging and interesting manner which is appropriate also for the stage of learning for which it is prescribed. This is why history method trained teachers are needed to teach history.

The Australian Curriculum does include Australian History and it could be argued that its inclusion attempts to address the concerns for the way that it is presented to students. At the secondary year levels, Australian History is couched in terms of the way the nation was formed and the way that that nation building sits within a world history context. There are some very strong connections to the cross curriculum perspectives of Australia and Asia and the environment and sustainability, which ALL Australian Curriculum subjects will have to address. In some ways, it could be argued that the Australian Curriculum is trying to address some of those same issues which the review of the University of Melbourne courses fail to address.

Will this fashion change, though? Of course it will. A prep student starting in 2013 will graduate in Year 12 in 2025. During that time they will be well versed at placing Australian History within these bigger themes that relate to their lives but it could be argued that because as such they haven’t had time to go into depth into some topics that help explore the narrative in detail and develop the skills that are associated with that approach, they may find that when they enter university they may indeed find that the courses only repeat what they have learned at school. And then there will be a review into programs with suggestions saying that students want more Australian History content. By which time the school history may have changed its focus which means that there may be teachers teaching Australian History who have not had the opportunity to study it!

A much stronger dialogue between the states and territories which deliver curriculum in schools and the federal government which is responsible for the delivery of higher education, including undergraduate history courses and teacher training, is needed to ensure that the wheel is not always being reinvented.

This is not a reason for you, the good history teacher, to despair. Over the past 15 years, it has been reiterated time and again to me that teachers are very flexible and that despite protests, they can adapt to change and end up doing what they do best – that is teaching. I know that the good ones will pick up the trend but apply their professionalism to ensure that their students learn much and enjoy plenty about the past and what it can offer them in their lives. No doubt, we will see the ‘skinny jeans’ of today be the ‘denim skeleton enhancers’ of 2025.

The website will be launched around Remembrance Day, November 11, 2010. This post, though, is not so much about the website but around the way that my own little network of Twitter people have helped it come to fruition.

Ostensibly the idea came out of an afternoon tea discussion with my colleague at the Shrine, Dr Steven Cooke and myself, about the way that we could incorporate some Web 2.0 activities into acts if commemoration.  Ideas are all well and good but in order to realise them you do need action. As we are getting close to going live with this site, I have come to realize that it is unlikely that I could have done this without the Twitter network.

Here’s why:

Project idea starts with me asking @jokay if she would be able to help create the site using her mad skillz. I first met Jo through Second Life who, in turn, put me in contact with a great network of educators, all of whom I consider friends.

This includes @deangroom whose counsel I have sought several times during this project. Dean is my first port of call for almost anything edu related in terms of web stuff.

So, here we are, going along nicely with solid ideas to make this portal work. But then, one day, I am chatting to my neighbor, @gilfer,( who, incidentally I did not know was my neighbor until we started chatting on Twitter). As is my way, Im chatting excitedly about the projects and somehow say to him that I have this idea that would supplement the website. You see, @gilfer is a Flash guy whose background is in advertising. I suggest to him that I would like an animation whereby visitors can plant a virtual poppy as an act of commemoration. I ask him whether he thinks such a thing could be developed. Sure enough, he has the background to show me where similar sorts of animations have been developed. I ask him if he can do such a thing for me. he politely declines but says he knows someone who might me able to help.

This is where Kath Carnell (@seakla) comes in who runs Ten Twenty Four. As it turns out she works closely with Samantha Presser @marishka_ who can provide the beautiful designs for the animation.

In the meantime, @jokay is working diligently with the platform we have decided to go with – setting up the beautiful look of the site and making sure all the techie bits are working (note my astute description!) It becomes apparent that we need some expertise in the back end (don’t we all – oh come on, I know you were thinking it!)  Enter @kerryjcom who is one of those aforemmentioned edu friends; Kerry now works at Bright Cookie in Adelaide – she says some guys she knows there are just the ones to help us with our conundrum. So then, we have @jokay, @seakla hooked up with these guys.

Along the way though, it is the advice of fellow educators and people through Twitter that I have sought as well. Stephen Heppell @stephenheppell was brought in by the State Library of Victoria (main Project Managers for the DEECD) as a critical friend. I had followed Stephen for some time in other channels – what a fortune to get his feedback. At this meeting, I also received some useful advice from @jomcleay who was one of the original people in the Vic edu networks that I had met.

Finally on the side has been @kcarruthers without whose sage advice, proper modelling and revolutionary feline attitude, I would have not have had the confidence to put such a project in place. Kate, for me, adds this whole other dimension to the project – not only does she understand the education sector but her business acumen has helped inform me of “the way things work .”

Next week we will have the opportunity to speak with @mpesce, who similarly, will be able to provide some constructive criticism of our projects – and even though I have followed Mark for some time, it is nice to see him enter my professional life in this other capacity, for this specific project.

And last, but not least, @nomesmessenger, another Twitterer whom I met through the Sydney crew, is providing the legal advice through the company for which she works.

So, there you have it. 1000 Poppies comes as a result of a few good ideas but a lot of help from ‘my’ twitter people without whom, it seems, I would be in some bother! Watch this space for the launch!

from State Library of Victoria

Dilettante:

[from http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/dilettante]

Etymology
From Italian dilettante, prop. present participle of dilettare (“to delight”) < Latin delectare (“to delight”).

Noun

dilettante (plural dilettanti or (rarely) dilettantes)

1. An amateur, someone who dabbles in a field out of casual interest rather than as a profession or serious interest.
2. A person with a general but superficial interest in any art or a branch of knowledge. (Sometimes derogatory.)

[from Etymology Online]

1733, borrowing of It. dilettante ”lover of music or painting,” from dilettare ”to delight,” from L. delectare (see delight). Originally without negative connotation, “devoted amateur,” the pejorative sense emerged late 18c. by contrast with professional.

The other night, upon returning form a delectable afternoon and evening with some dear friends, I passed the Princess Theatre which almost provocatively faces the Victorian Parliament.

One of my first visits to this theatre was as a young girl to see the Andrew Lloyd Webber spectacular ‘Cats’. As I walked past, I noted that there was something playing there but if you asked me what, i would not be able to tell. What I can tell you though was that as I walked past I made a mental note that it would be a rare occasion if i ever took my children to see some sort of kitsch spectacular replete with revolving stage or unnecessary pyrotechnics. Some may call it snobbery, others ignorance, but as I walked past I thought to myself that it was unlikely that such an activity will not be enjoyed by my children.

Obviously this has a lot to do with some deep-seated psychological and cultural issues which make me believe that I should know better than to endorse such works of art. Having grown up in a fairly ambiguous working class household yet having the luxury of a “good education” meant that I can discern the chaff from the hay which would supposedly mean that I have the capacity to appreciate “high art”. And yet, I am nothing but a dilettante, which, if we are to take the early18th century explanation of the word, makes me”a devoted amateur”. I don’t think, though, that such dilettantism means that I miss the point of art altogether.

After a couple of days I have been thinking about my response to that chance passing of the theatre. It would be remiss of me, as a parent, not to expose my children to such experiences. After all, whether it is populist or garish shouldn’t really matter. What matters is that they “gain delight” from such a performance yet have the opportunity to be exposed to many other experiences and have the capacity to reflect upon that delight they may or may not have experienced at the time. What a gift it is to be part of society which can discuss and reflect upon such delights as opposed the the mental and intellectual stasis that plagues so many people’s mindsets. The point is to talk. To think. This is what matters.

Recently, I had a few disparaging thoughts about a family member who attends every “big art” event that comes to town. How was tier attendance at such shows “presented by the Victorian Racing Club” or some such really expose them to the important cultural and artistic ideas that are crucial to understanding the past, present and future of the world? That chance passing of the Princess Theatre has made me think differently of said family member. It is obvious that exposing anyone to such an activity – reading a book, viewing a film, attending an exhibition – makes them think and broadens their experience. It extends beyond the simplistic advantage of making them think about what they find appealing or not – the act makes them ‘appreciate’ on many other levels whether they are conscious  of it or not. For example, aforementioned family member can articulate that they like the “weirdness” of Salvador Dali’s art yet they are exposed the the historical and cultural context in which the art was created and are happy to discuss this. Some might say that this is dilettantism at its finest – “A person with a general but superficial interest in any art or a branch of knowledge.”to which I now say, “so what?” From this seemingly superficial dabbling, the dilettante will be exposed to something far greater than “appreciation of the arts” and that is realising that they are part of humanity however terrible and beautiful that humanity can be.

The dilettante is not merely “the consumer”. The dilettante has the capacity to reflect and opportunity to “delight” in such pursuits. The consumer does not. The dilettante will eventually take the risk to delve beyond ‘the idea’ of the pleasure and experience it further, as opposed to the consumer who will dismiss such risk and be satisfied with “the idea” of the pleasure. To this end, the consumer will be the one who sees “Cats” and any other of the thirty six hundred musicals by Lloyd-Webber and then not have the opportunity and therefore capacity to reflect. I guess what I am imploring people to do is to share the experiences, wide and varied as they may be, to get the thinking to begin.

As such, I am happy to admit to being a dilettante and hope that my children are comfortable with a same admission when they are older. No doubt, they will be at least aware that the label was not always used in a derogatory sense.

I loved school. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to go.

Most of this love for school was probably due to the company my girlfriends gave me. I didn’t mind the learning and I wanted to please my teachers. I was compliant enough.

It was the end of Year Ten and we were given a taste of some “literature” before we commenced our formal studies the next year. The course in itself was meant to be a gentle intorduction to college life on the new campus, amongst which was scattered the excrutiating familarisation acitivties such as friendly tug-o-wars, “race around the campus”, cooking etc etc.

A large man with a strange ambling gait entered the room for ‘English’. He perched himself up on the desk after handing out a sheet with some text on it and then talked for an hour about 20 lines of Alexander Pope’s poem ‘An essay on criticism’. At the end of the hour, my friend of 12 years and I looked at each other incredulously and agreed that we indeed had no idea what the fuck he was on about. All I know was that I loved it.

No one had talked to me or my class about poetry in such a way. No one had ever explained composition, metre or feet to us before:  ’But most by numbers judge a poet’s song’ I can hear him beating out the metre on the table.

The new year came and it turned out that my friend and were placed in the same class with the baffling professor who turned out to be the prinicpal’s husband and who was, indeed, an academic in his own right, a published author and Rhodes scholar. Maybe he taught the two high school classes as a favour or folly. I’m not sure.

This man as my teacher for two years and for the first time in my schooling I felt I was learning. Every lesson was pitched at level so much higher than we ever expected – that in itself a valuable lesson. I’d like to think it was luck, but mysterious fortune played no part in it. His wife was good enough to sense that perhaps this is what I needed my eyes opened up to and that there was more to the world than suburban life and mediocre standards.  To both of them I am indebted.

So, what’s the washup of this?

Even though I hear teachers celebrate the fact that students are far more capable of doing things than what is set for them, the work set or explored is continually set at a level which allows the students to excel in mediocrity. The situation reminds me of that old educational adage of ‘making learning fun’. This teacher’s classes were not ‘fun’ yet there were plenty of laughs each lesson, many relevant issues discussed and philosophies challenged without a re-enactment or activity such as “reconstruct the boat that Marlow is on in Heart of Darkness”.The culture fostered in that class was learning for learning’s sake – he did not need to obsess over making learning “fun” (he was too statesman-like to stoop to that level) yet he had every student in that class, including a boisterous cohort of ‘footy boys’, eating out of his hand.

And thanks to my father too, who, without an education, realised that I should be given such an opportunity even though he reminded me that the school fees were dependent on the result of the third at Flemington.

The concept of the humanities focuses on studying human experience: what can happen to people and what people can do; possible ways of thinking, ways of feeling and ways of speaking; possible motives and possible values. The words can and possible highlight the imaginative character of the research in the humanities. They also highlight the double focus of the humanities: on humanity as a whole and on individual (though culturally embedded) human beings in all their immense diversity.

In schools, the distinction between ‘Social Sciences’ and ‘Humanities’ is often dismissed. The two are often seen as one and the same – this is not necessarily because teachers misunderstand the differences but because they too preoccupied with the teaching of their discipline to let the politics and fashions of faculty nomenclature bother them. Still, as Anna Wierzbicka reminds us, the two are different.

On Thursday, at the History Teachers’ Association of Victoria’s conference, the strength of the humanities was palpable as Elissa McKeand (Essential Media), Anne Chesher (Essential Media) and actor and author William McInnes discussed the new ABC documentary The Making of Modern Australia. The three presenters had the audience captivated with the human stories – neither elaborate nor disingenuously manufactured – of aspects of Australian History since World War 2.

People, thankfully, are fascinated by human stories and the infinite narratives, each with their different cast, mise en scènes. direction and production, that each of them provide. The stories that these speakers shared with the audience helped cement that fascination as stories of grief, tenacity and personal happiness were shown or retold. Most importantly though, the stories deonstrated how the grand narrative of Australia’s history can be told and, part, learned.

The Making of Modern Australia is a four-part documentary and will screen over the next few weeks on the ABC.

photo by Rhansanne.photos via Flickr. Published under creative commons.

I am not ashamed to say that I support the teaching of discrete disciplinary knowledge. I really do think that teachers who have a love and understanding of  a particular topic and, importantly, who can ‘teach’ have a lot to offer students and their peers. So, when I talk about collaboration, I am not referring to the development of esoteric topics which require little disciplinary knowledge or expertise. Collaboration requires thoughtful planning not just a bunch a of ‘passionate educators’ who want to create ‘powerful learning experiences’.

There is a skill to teaching. I know of several amazing scholars who, even by their own admission, “could never teach secondary school students”. That is not a criticism of them, in fact the admission is an admirable one: it acknowledges that teaching is a craft.

Over the past twenty years in fashion, luxury items have become part of popular culture. These items such as “it” bags from Chloe or Louis Vuitton are coveted because of the subjective status and sartorial appeal that they  offer. And it is design and not build quality for which they are desired because how else would the counterfeit market of these goods exist? When you see a young ingénue toting a Louis Vuitton backpack, it is unlikely a) that it is real and b) that she are aware that there exists a tradition upon which leathergoods or luggage like that have been created. As the brand permeates popular culture and the imitations are produced, the brand flourishes but the sentiment behind the craftsmanship becomes devalued.

When we look at teachers, do we see them as a generic product which has become undervalued? Do we want teachers to be relegated to the likes of the ‘it’ bag of 2008? Do we forget that behind the teacher is a tradition almost artisanal in character?

I wonder, when people talk about teaching and education’s need to change, whether we sometime forget about some of the basic traditions of the profession. The knowledge of the teacher, the quality of the materials with which they work should be carefully scrutinised and then revered. We shouldn’t see teachers as a fashionable commodity or as purveyors of faux luxe. I think it’s time to look at the teacher as artisan and look how each type, with their own expertise in whichever area they practice, can offer something of much more value to an individual than the generic educator who seems to take on everything.*

This is neither anti-technology post nor supporting the pro-history cause – it’s about appreciating the craft of many disciplines through those who can impart it. Sometimes appreciation of the artisan and his practice and the wealth of knowledge that he has to offer is simply enough to unleash creativity, and imagination.

*LOL – almost another post here about the idea of ‘Master’ teachers and ‘self interest’ cf. Adam Smith.

Used in conjunction with Layar API, Hoopala makes it easy for the user to experiment with layers with what seems to be a super-duper easy interface.

From the press release:

HOPPALA! Augmentation comes with a full screen map interface to place and edit augments all around the world. Upload your images and icons, audio, video and 3D multimedia content with just some mouse clicks and add it to your personalized inventory in the cloud. HOPPALA! Augmentation even does the hosting for you. It simply runs in your browser, there’s no software installation required and no coding needed at all

I’ve just spent the morning with my son, 8, playing around with maps and mucking about with KML files, so I am a wee bit excited about playing around with this without having to worry about knowing how to fiddle with the API.