Appeal for Intellectual Compassion

Mark Booth describes what befell Orpheus after his return from the Underworld, how the 'charm of his music' did not stop 'a band of maenads...throwing themselves upon him and tearing him limb from bloody limb'.

This reminds me of the fate of his book 'The Secret History of the World', at the hands of the book reviewers and critics, The Telegraph and The Guardian included.

Damian Thompson of the Telegraph introduces his ' review of a piece of trash called The Secret History of the World by Jonathan Black' (aka Mark Booth). He continues, 'The Secret History of the World is, by a comfortable margin, the worst book I have ever reviewed. It's not just badly written, sloppily edited and full of egregious errors of fact, though it is all of these. The book is morally deplorable. '

As far as I can work out, Damian finds morally deplorable the casting of a slur on figures such as Pope John-Paul 2 without evidence, and the presenting of the book as 'history' when it is not.

Damian goes on: 'The Secret History of the World does leave the reader feeling trapped in the corner of a room by a nutter, so perhaps "Jonathan Black" believes his own bullshit.' (Not that Damian is one for casting slurs). Damian is beside himself when he tries to interpret the involvement of 'Anthony Cheetham, the Eton- and Balliol-educated former CEO of Orion Books...a proper historian in his own right.. and the founder of Quercus...' (the publisher of the book).

There follows a long list of derisive comments from Damian's fans, for example,

'He (Mark) invites comments, so I've asked the obvious: "Do you believe all the shit you write and commission?"

or

'Damian, how did you manage to get such an austere publication as the Church Times so rabid as to describe you as a 'blood-crazed ferret'? Quite an achievement to add to the list of accomplishments on your C.V.!'

'Let's just say that I know former colleagues of Booth and Cheetham who are dismayed that they could sink so low. '

'just had a look at this nutjob's website. Damian, he says below your comment he wants to meet you for a drink! Be very scared. '

Hilary Mantel from the Guardian, does not agree with Damian that the book is 'ill written', but damns it because of 'phrases of perfect clarity which say nothing very much'. She waxes cynical when she writes, 'The material is delivered with a moral earnestness that makes it harsh to suggest the book is a cynical potboiler. But a sense of déjà vu may sweep over you as you turn pages that feature Atlantis and the Temple of Solomon, Merlin and Leonardo, Mary Magdalene and Isaac Newton, chakras and tulpas, astral bodies and altered states.' What is she 'dismissing' exactly? She ends with the wonderful prhase, given Jonathan's surname: Hilary Mantel's most recent novel is Beyond Black (Harper Perennial).

I am not surprised about all this extreme dismissal, and in some ways it is understandable, as Mark Booth has presented arms as an Oxford academic and respected publisher, and then produced an esoteric book which cannot stand up to the academic joust. He has betrayed his people. They lanced him (and his publisher) through and through. If he had not been one of their people, they would have left him alone on the esoteric bookshelf.

I wish these bright, articulate, clear-thinking and witty critics could approach a new possibility in a state of what Edward de Bono calls 'Po': neither yes nor no. It is not necessary to be, immediately, for or against. It is not necessary to decide 'I believe or I do not', or to see in black or white. Rather, Po gives us a chance to explore, to play, reflect, come back to, continue to wonder about, to test against own experience, to revise, and so on. The great critics make it clear they will not waste time reflecting upon what they know to be rubbish. They must, by nature, make snap decisions. They know the measure of Truth. However, if we look at academics past, we will realise that the traditional popular gangs who were so sure they were right, are now the ones we have a hearty laugh over - how could they have thought the world was flat, we chortle. Tomorrow, who will we laugh at? Do we have to laugh, can we just put it down to progress? Why all the scorn?

I use this book as a map. It is a Brief Secret History, there isn't the space-time to go into details if the ground is to be covered. It is a running history, a story, running through the process, an unravelling and tying up again of all the myths and symbols and works of art that have teased thoughtful humankind over the centuries. It is a mistake to confuse the map with the place. It is a mistake to ditch the map because you can dispute some of the names and directions. Maps can be useful if you want to explore new terrain, even first-attempt maps which need to be modified once the exploration begins. This book is an overview, an orientating reference for those interested in the subject, it is an invitation for further research and reflection, and perhaps, if it strikes us that way, for wonder. Mark Booth does not pretend it is 'true', (or false). All he wants to do is tell the whole story, assemble the lot of it, as it has been told to him and revealed in his readings. I expect many of the things he says in the 406- page volume are open to interpretation, or perhaps wrong. That doesn't matter in the state of Po - although it may be important in the final analysis. Po allows you to check the bathwater for a baby, before you throw it out.

What strikes me is the horrible frenzy of hateful scorn and derision. No-one seems prepared to discuss the subject matter, the pros and cons, it's all Dismissive Con. It's nasty. Is that the only way we can do academia?

And here I heave a heavy sigh, because I know that the way to approach the sacred places is in a state of reverence, and that the holy is revealed when the seeker is in readiness to receive it. As for these literary critics, reverence and readiness have they none. There is a world of difference between joy and bitter laughter...

Cooking Doomed

Before we went away to England I had become utterly bored with my own cooking and had run out of ideas.

Back from England after 10 days off from cooking I was charged up with zeal and new nourishing recipes. I made date and apricot flapjacks with golden maize flour, sesame and powdered almonds, cauliflower and carrot terrine, and pasta with red onions and peas. Only J-C would taste the terrine and No Comment was passed. I burned the pasta by being convinced I had turned off the cooker while I dashed up 2 flights of stairs to begin hanging up Washing Backlog the Sequel. Upon eating the flapjacks, family members responded as follows:

R 'MMMMMM I love them Mummy - but they are a bit filling...'
B 'They are too sweet'
J-C 'Aren't they a bit dry?'

Me: DRY? They are the epitome of succulence!

J-C 'Actually, I don't like flapjacks'

Me: Well how was I supposed to know that? I made them specially. You've always said you liked them!'

J-C 'not really...'

Me: 'By my calculation that means you have been Pretending to Like Flapjacks for 15 years! It doesn't matter what I cook, somebody always doesn't like and mostly everyone doesn't. The only things you like are out of packets. I don't know why I bother!'.

The crisis might have been averted if R, after a series of exaggerated flops and sighs, hadn't asked:

'Do I have to eat these wormy things?' (red onions).

At this point I Resigned from cooking in a Huff.

'Don't worry, I'll cook' said B, bright eyed 'Is there a pizza in the freezer?'

'No. You're doomed to the only meal your father can cook...Potato Omelette' (groans all round, including J-C who is bored with is own omelette, even though he has only cooked it 4 times in 15 years).

'Come to think of it' I added after a short reflection, 'We've also run out of eggs, so you are not doomed to eat potato omelette, you are just DOOMED'.

Exit stage left.

Carnival

The school blossoms today, it is carnival day. Hours of secret preparations and, frankly, hard labour, have lead up to this event. R is the blacksmith in a Medieval castle. B's theme was 'countries of the world'. He is English, in a French school, so you might think he would have chosen England. But no. No fun dressing up as who you are. He wanted to be an Argentinian. Do not ask me how I got together an Argentinian costume and artefacts, I am still unable to talk about it.

The school blossoms today, and the weather is foul, lashing sleet. R&B charge in at 7am - I am on the beach behind a windbreak with seven women with fat thighs, unable to return to my flat in Crystal Palace which was being raided by a gang of criminals. Don't ask. I struggled to consciousness and at this very moment, R chose to find fault with the costume I had so lovingly laboured over, despite showing no interest in it at all the night before, preferring instead to play Battle of the Killer Aliens with the neighbours. Within seconds he stood Accused by a derranged squinting bent-double woman in a nightdress, of Losing his Belt, Losing his Kings robe/chain mail and now shabby and torn Blacksmith's work tunic, leaving his underpants on the floor, never tidying up and Complaining and Spoiling Things.

R rushed upstairs, clutching his falling trousers, and busied himself searching. B rushed downstairs and started work on the 30 pancakes I had prepared at midnight - spreading them with milk jam from Argentina, and cutting up the contents of a tin of peaches and skewering them with toothpicks. He put on his costume and declared he just looked like a very silly guy. I prepared to launch my defence when I realised he was quite happy about this.

It got later and later, finally R's belt and tunic were found (by me, following some leads from R which he could have given me the night before when I asked), the offending apple motif on the apron had been covered with a broach, all the bits had been tied on and hoisted up, people were running in all directions with sticky knives and falling down trousers and J-C and the cats got in the way. We bundled flasks, baskets of gingerbread iron tools (some very convincingly burned), pots of peaches and plates of pancakes, a pretend fire made from sticks, bark and red and yellow scraps of chiffon, a log anvil, a selection of ironware, and small realistic model of a knight in a suit of armour and an Argentinian flag into the car, B scraped the slush off the windows, warmed the engine and put on the back window heater. Then we were off.

Miraculously the traffic was kind and we arrived with seconds to spare and found a parking space, and despite the shakey start, the carnival spirit rose. R's class was transformed into two rows of canopied shops, I didn't recognise anyone. R had been given a real anvil and some ironware from a teacher who is a part time or sometime blacksmith. The two apothecaries were in the corner bent double over their jars of sweety pills. 'Aha, tasting your own medicine I see' I said, roaring with laughter, 'It must be good then...' roar roar - they gave me a sweet to buy my silence. A teenager dressed in a black balaclava & carrying a sub machine gun soared in on rollerskates. Someone held the door open for him, he thanked them politely, and held the door open for someone else. The Troubador, Fool and Juggler explained their differences, and put on a show with a performing bear, clarinet and acrobatics. A lone potter showed me his brick-like thumb pot and explained it was mine for 100 Euros. The stone mason assured me he was a sculptor. The fishmongers appeared confused but their biscuit fish were a marvel. One teacher was dressed up as a beggar, and the other was selling water, are they feeling impoverished?

...I hastened to the English stall in B's class and made them a sign saying Tea with MILK, something they did not appear to know about England, and made some encouraging remarks in English about chocolate chip cookies at the American stand. The teachers were all dressed up too, and pretending they were not teachers. B, who wanted me to come, ignored me with great aplomb. His partner, whose grandmother is Argentinian, was wearing a genuine poncho and straw hat and crooning to a model guitar. The Spanish girls next door were impressed. Russia and Vietnam were too busy to talk. Lebanon was represented by two coy girls who swept up their long dresses and eyed me from behind their veils and the Polish stand was, as yet, nothing but a sign reading POLSKA.

I was sad to leave - but will soon be back...to clear up.


AND THEN THE HOLIDAYS!!!!

Market Day

Saturday morning is my weekly pilgrimmage to the market to buy locally produced organic fare and have lovely chats with the sellers and not use my car and generally bring forth all good things. Look at all these beauties...

Laurance, the organic veg seller, seduced me with recipe suggestions complete with French gestures of sensual delight, and talked me into buying some budding winter greens (John had already told me about his spring greens dish, and given me the urge, I feel a great urge to eat green at the moment, last month it was mushrooms). I steamed them, and then steam-fried sliced red onions sweet as sugar with a few chopped up dried tomatoes, mixed all together and served. Tonight a spinach salad with tiny cubes of cheese. I won't tell B it's spinach because he HATES spinach, but if he thinks it is lettuce he will eat it. I won't tell R about the cubes of cheese because he HATES cheese. Can't think what I'm going to tell him - to pick them out probably. I can't put ham in it instead because J-C is a vegetarian. I did chicken breasts with a dab of lemon jam from the prune lady, prunes, olive oil and lemon juice. Veggie burger for J-C. Then for pudding, ginger cake with slices of fresh pear, farm yoghurts with fruits from their very own hedgerows and egg custard with a touch of caramel...mmm.

Well I got myself very charged up with the rich fruitful loveliness of my purchases, but all romantic illusions crashed when I served it to the children...below R dramatises about a small inoffensive winter green:

Our Children and New Technology

Thrusting in and Leading Out!


Bring into your mind an image of Miss Jean Brodie in her prime, speaking (add in Scottish accent) to her girls:

'The word ‘education’ comes from the root e from ex, out and duco, I lead. It means a leading out. To me education is a leading out of what is already there in the pupil’s soul. To Miss Mackay it is a putting in of something that is not there, and that is not what I call education. I call it intrusion, from the Latin root prefix in meaning in and the stem trudo, I thrust. Miss Mackay’s method is to thrust a lot of information into the pupil’s head: mine is a leading out of knowledge, and that is true education, as is proved by the root meaning. Now Miss Mackay has accused me of putting ideas into my girls heads, but in fact that is her practice and mine is quite the opposite…' (From The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark)


Mmm, I think Miss Jean Brodie could be onto something with the "leading out..."


How does New Technology in all its forms fit into our childrens' education? Before we can answer this questions, we need to have some idea of what a child is, and then, what it is to educate the child.  



Can this be part of the leading out? Should we rush to get it in and get ahead? Should we revel in the new possibilities and creativities? Could it be dangerous or destructive? Should we in fact keep it out of schools entirely? Or is it good at a certain age, and if so, what age is a good age to start?  

How do we judge? Everything is new. We have no traditions and very little theory available to help us with this great challenge.

J-C and I went to a talk on this last night at our childrens school, (by Philippe Pyrenes) on this very subject, which has got me thinking.

First of all, when speaking about New Technology in education,  suppose we start with the child and a good vision of what a child is at every age and stage, rather than starting with, for example, some politician or business mogul's view of economic necessity or politics or money making.  We cannot make any judgements about the suitability in education of the ever increasing, exciting and available gadgetry that New Technology puts on show, without having some understanding of the human child, and the role and effect of new technology.

Our speaker identified three main areas of childrens' education:

Sensory Experience

Internal Experience

Human Contact

(Our speaker, an experienced teacher with children and grandchildren, and a background in information technology, wished to express a certain quality within each of these, 'real' sensory perception, 'true' human contact...)

First of all we have to understand why these things are important.

Sensory Experience

The young child grovelling in the sandpit is doing more than just mucking around...

This is about the experience of being there: and looking round, smelling, hearing feeling, touching... The very young child grovelling in the sandpit is doing more than just mucking around - all the sensations of digging and scooping and dribbling the sand, pouring it, making moulds, jumping on it, are helping to build an inner world to which she will later refer with words, and later still prepare an intellectual understanding of the outer world with reference to her inner one. Experimenting with the fall of the sand to earth, for example, gives us a true understanding of gravity - what it is in relation to us, and our experience, even though we haven't yet learned the name gravity, and all that that word entails.

Neuroscience (which is new, only really getting going in the late 1990s) has something to say about this. Neuroscience can now look at how the brain functions in relation to outside stimuli, it has recently become possible to wire people's brains up and see which parts of the brain are responding to an accuracy of fractions of a second. Marcus Kiffer has written about the formation of words from experiences.

A virtual cow

Imagine that you go to a farm and you meet a cow, you stroke it, smell, watch it, are fascinated by the huffing of its dewy nostrils and so forth. Your brain responds with a corresponding set of neural excitation. From now on, when someone mentions the word 'cow', the same set of neural excitations will be visible in your brain!

Now imagine that you have no sensory experience of a cow. For you, the word cow refers to the cartoon picture on your milk carton, or the plastic beast from your farm set, or the cariacuture on the telly or the dull drawing in your interactive educational computer programme. Gone is the rich pattern of neural excitation. Instead, the word references a virtual reality, with a rather dull pattern, and for you the word is stunted, shallow and superficial. Your understanding of the world becomes abstract - you have virtual, rather than real understanding. What is the consequence of this happening en-masse in our society? We don't really know...

Now, based on this, how do we 'lead out' a child's experience of life and development of language? Could it be by, for example, lots and lots and lots of exploratory, free, sensory play?

'Play is the exultation of the possible' writes Martin Buber.

All those of us who have children, have been children or know anything about them know they love to play. Perhaps they know what they need. Perhaps if we start by letting children be, they will be better able to learn and acquire the skills we require of them, when the time comes. We let them do the exploring they are drawn to, with safety checks, and a little light encouragement, and then when the child is ready to emerge from this process, we could begin to 'lead out'. This would not mean teaching intellectual tricks, but involving children in learning by doing: touching, moulding, watching the dance of the world around them, exploring, in all the ways made possible by our bodily existance, allowing thems to put themselves in relation to their beloved world. Gone are the objectives, targets and measures. In its place a gently unfolding cirriculum designed to appeal to the child we see before us. If we get it right, the child will have no need to have knowledge thrust upon him, he will seek it, welcome it and absorb it with delight. This might sound Utopian, but I've seen it done.

Internal Experience

Our speaker pointed out that children nowadays are continually bombarded by outside stimuli. To decide whether this is ok or not, or how much, we need to have an understanding of what we could term 'inner experience'. A vital part of learning, of a child's education, is the 'down time', to use, ironically, a computer term, for processing, reflecting, developing, organising our thoughts, and making sense of our world. Our speaker would see this as vital to building up a sense of self, an ability to think freely. There is nowadays much more 'stimulation' (of a certain type) that threatens to swallow up any quiet, reflective time available to the child, until perhaps the child no longer feels the need for this or notices its absence. What effect would this have on children?

Our technologically equipped children are never alone: always trackable by portable phone, at the slightest niggle they phones or text, are phoned or texted with the niggles of others, they never falls back on himself. Any remaining quiet moments in the busy schedule, such as a wait for a bus, a walk, a bike ride, they experience to the accompaniment of portable music.

What is this doing to the inner world of our children? Are any of the things we are complaining about (increase in attention difficulties, hyperactivity, violence in schools etc) be a symptom? Are there others? It's difficult to measure when there are so many influences on a child's behaviour, and we haven't even had time to do any longitudinal studies, even if there were any that were well thought- out. We don't really know.

Human Contact

Virtual Educator Carmen SanDiego

We can bring in a DVD to enhance a topic, it's easy, quiet and clean. We talk a lot about teaching methods, but what is the role of the educator, that is the person, the very human being,  in education? The one who leads out? The one who notices when the child is ready to emerge from one stage, and needs leading out into the next for example?   How does this real contact, this real relationship, compare to our virtual teaching friends, Reader Rabbit, and the rest? What understanding will children gain if they are saturated with virtual images and lead by virtual teachers ? A virtual understanding of humanity?

Virtual Educator Reader Rabbit

There are, admittedly, some teachers who do little more than transmit a formula, who probably couldn't even be accused of 'thrusting in' anything,  but a truly good teacher, and I think we all know at least one, teaches with her whole being. She teaches by example, by attention, by understanding her charges and responding to what she perceives their needs to be. She listens and responds to the children, and they listen and respond to her. She might be eccentric, passionate, sometimes angry, inspired, tireless, but she is loving, and provides a loving education. She is a human, fully present, dedicated. Along with parents and responsible others in the child's life, she gives meaning to the words for human qualities: love, kindness, joy, enthusiasm, dedication, reliability, perseverance, humour...The educator educates, the educater 'leads out'. How much time do children spend without their educators, running through learning programmes, extracting facts from the internet, watching educational DVDs? How is this handled by our educators? Are there any humans there to guide our children through this? Our are children spending enough time with 'significant educators' who are worthy of the title?

One thing that is clear to me is that children should not surf the internet alone or unsupervised, and even supervised, it should not be a requirement of homework, because there are problems with the following:

Pornography (I suspect this is widespread, and no longer an innocent matter)

Selling and all types of manipulation

Problems with sourcing and accuracy of information

It's an art

You have to know the pitfalls and how to avoid them

It requires maturity

And experience

Even adults haven't got there yet.

Is this kind of thing important? Are these three factors important in education, are they threatened by NT, can we happily introduce some aspects of NT without upsetting the balance, does it depend on the age and stage of the child? These things need thinking about.

Education: A Leading Out

Bring into your mind an image of Miss Jean Brodie in her prime, speaking (add in Scottish accent) to her girls:

'The word ‘education’ comes from the root e from ex, out and duco, I lead. It means a leading out. To me education is a leading out of what is already there in the pupil’s soul. To Miss Mackay it is a putting in of something that is not there, and that is not what I call education. I call it intrusion, from the Latin root prefix in meaning in and the stem trudo, I thrust. Miss Mackay’s method is to thrust a lot of information into the pupil’s head: mine is a leading out of knowledge, and that is true education, as is proved by the root meaning. Now Miss Mackay has accused me of putting ideas into my girls heads, but in fact that is her practice and mine is quite the opposite…' (From The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark)

Is Miss Jean Brodie right?

Bread and Butter Pudding

Last night I surveyed my collection of dried up baguettes. Anyone who knows French baguettes knows that after 24 hours they become so hard that it takes 10 strong men to break one in half. I've tried grinding them to crumbs to make stuffing, but the Magimix was strained to the limit and the results uneven. I decided to resurrect Bread and Butter pudding - I think this may have been an inspired thought. After a quick trawl on the internet I had enough information to make up the following recipe.

First soak baguette bits in water for 5 hours
Slice in half longways and place in baking dish
Squeeze out the really soaking bits like a sponge and squish into gaps
Lob butter peelings on top
Throw in a couple of handfulls of raisins
Sprinkle with 1 tsp cinnamon, 1 tsp nutmeg and half tsp ginger
Cover with about 5 dessertspoons of brown sugar
Beat 2 eggs into some milk with pinch of salt and pour on
Keep pouring more milk until bread covered
Cook in oven at 180 about half an hour until fluffed up and top a bit brown and crispy

DELICIOUS! You can use up any stale bread like this, British bread can be buttered and layered. It has the texture of a soufflé. Your guests will never know.

I also tried out my mother in law's recipe for quick pastry. This recipe has less fat, less saturated fat, and is much easier to make than the 'rubbing in' method: win win win situation.

Take a small glass, half fill with oil, and the other half with water. Marvel at how the oil rises to the top, add a pinch of salt. Pour into mixing bowl and add enough flour to form a pasty ball, adding more water or oil if or both if you overdo it - and then more flour if you overdo that.

When satisfied that you can pick up the ball and plop it on the table without incident, roll out (you can use a wine bottle if you don't have a rolling pin, full or empty, but not half empty with a loose fitting cork) and use for pizza bases or quiches.

I think next time I would cook it for 10 minutes before adding filling to crisp it up a bit. I used some chick pea flour mixed in for added nutrition. Then slices of cooked red onion sweet as sugar, tomato paste (I condense my own as I can't buy organic tomato concentrate here) slices of mozzarella and grated emmental. Also delicious! Pizzas and quiches can also use up sad leftover lumps of goats cheese, or any soft cheese, simply cover in tomato sauce and sprinkle liberally with grated cheese, delicious.

The pictures of the mostly eaten remains go to show that a woman's work is quickly eaten - or else hangs about in the fridge until it goes mouldy because no-one wants to eat it.