Category Archives: Jon

Could You Repeat That, Please?

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Earlier this week I tried an experiment with the children whom I teach, to find out how much they actually listen to me.

I asked them, some time during a lesson, to stop what they were doing, put down their pencils, and listen to me. Then I said a simple word or sentence in Swedish, and thereafter ask someone to repeat what I’d just said. If that person did not know I’d ask another, and so on until I was given the correct answer. Nearly all the classes passed the experiment on the 5th or 6th attempt.

In a couple of the classes I changed the word after the 2nd or 3rd failed attempt. I noticed that when they realised they were not listening they appeared to become more attentive, and I wanted to know how much of a bearing this “renewed” attentiveness would have on the test.

I obviously expected a better success rate having given them a second chance, but even then it would require a further two or three attempts on their part.

So, why is it that many of the children pay little or no attention to what we teachers say (this is a problem that many of the other teachers in my school experience, at least in the lower years)? I think it is a reliance on the nature of teachers. We want/must try to make sure that everyone understands the instructions of an exercise, and we are willing to repeat ad infinitum until understood by all. A child who does not listen can simply put up his/her hand and receive a personal explanation. So, why bother to listen when required?

I should like to see if their attentiveness can be increased by a twofold plan. Firstly, I shall continue with the “pop-questions”, which will pressure them into listening; secondly, I shall train them by only issuing instructions once. Those who do not listen (understanding is another matter, and the difference is easily heard in the children) shall have to sit there silently while the others carry out the exercise.

The most difficult part of this plan is to remember not to be the crutch they rely on, and stand fast in my decision to give clear, concise instructions once, and only once.

The Circus Returns

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I thought I was being smart when, back in June, I ordered the children’s books for this coming school-year. It meant I avoided the rush of mass-ordering at the beginning of the term, and it also gave me the advantage of receiving everything I wanted.

In August I calmly started work, safe in the knowledge that all my material would be waiting for me. It was not.

I spoke to the accountant whom I had given the original order to, and she apologised, thinking she’d mislaid the paper somewhere. I spent a good half-day recounting and figuring out what it was I’d requested, then redid my order, slightly miffed but secure that the clerical error had been an unlucky incident.

3 weeks on and I had still not received any books, so I spoke to the accountant again. This time she went into the headmistress’s office to poke around, and returned with both of my orders, which had been lying amongst a pile of other papers; neither of the orders had been acted upon.

Now, finally, I’m reasonably sure I’ll soon have something for the children to read/write in, but this is another in a long line of fuck-ups that we encounter on an almost daily basis. I can only imagine what a demanding job it is to run a private school; I do, however, expect certain basic things to be sorted out without the kind of hassle that breeds contempt for my boss.

Those Little Slices Of Death

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I am useless at either dreaming or remembering what I’ve dreamt. I think I dream more than have nightmares, but last night I had the worst of my life.

I had just ran away from crocodiles in a field by jumping over barbed wire, where I met a French lady (with children?). We got talking and walked along a path to a stone entrance, where some officially clad man was taking down/putting up/adjusting police crime-scene tape. He conversed briefly in French, and we continued on our way.

Shortly thereafter we came to some kind of courtyard where a crowd stood/sat idly. I turned to look at wild strawberry plants that were growing on one of the surrounding stone walls that surrounded the courtyard, and when I turned back the lady and Freya had disappeared.

The last part of the dream, before I woke up, involved my running around furiously, knowing in my heart that Freya had been abducted.

It hardly needs saying that I found the whole experience terrible; I can not think of a scenario that equals this in sheer heart-breaking frustration. Still, it was only a dream.

Hygeine Help

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I was looking on the reverse side of a liquid soap container at school the other day (another fantastic entry on the way, then), a casual glance to see if any major spelling mistakes or syntax errors had made their way onto the label. What I was greeted with instead was a concise set of instructions:

Wet hands and massage liquid soap to a lather. Rinse hands and dry.

By my reckoning, the only people who really need instructions (to prevent it being used as nose-spray or eye-liner) are the very small people who are, ironically, not yet able to understand the idea behind reading.

I walked around the staff-room at school offering the soap to various members of staff, who, whilst offering mild interest in my finding, did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as I. It is true we are becoming a humourless race.

N.B. The soap came from the toilets at school; it wasn’t that I’d taken the soap from home to show my work colleagues.

N.B. I was referring to children when I wrote “very small people”, not midgets, who are as able readers as any other person.

First Mission Of 2007

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Chris and we finally got our act together and went on our first “explore Sweden” trip, something we haven’t done for a couple of years. Our destination for the revival was Linköping, since I’d read there was an exhibition there of Swedish videogame history.

If videogames is your thang then avoid Linköping. The exhibition was shite, with very little information on offer. The Altair 8800 that was in place had no description, which, unless you are reasonably hardcore, just looks like a box with lots of switches on it. I was proud to have my picture taken resting a hand on this important piece of gaming hardware, though the expression on my face made me look like the Altair smelled of rancid pooh, so the photo was discarded. There was a playable Wii there, but I need more than that and a few old computers to be impressed. I was worried, when we got lost on the way to the exhibition, that we would get there after it had closed for the day, though the 15 minutes we had was ample.

Thankfully, Jo suggested going to Old Linköping, which was far more enjoyable. In most of the houses there were interesting things to do/see, and it was a shame we only had half an hour there before all the main places closed.

We spent the last hours of our Linköping mission sat outside at an O’Leary’s pub in “new” Linköping. It seems Chris was suitably impressed with the Wii, he wanted to find somewhere on the way home that was open to buy one.