university

Progress

I’ve received an invite to visit one of my lecturers in order to "discuss [my] final placement". Aside from the date, that is how much I know.

It’s progress, but I’m still no nearer to being able to commit. I don’t know where or when this placement might be. I am struggling to find accommodation available for three months, and not knowing dates or location does not help. Amidst this uncertainty, I have not applied for a student loan. It seems pointless to apply when I am doubtful I can make this work. I’m quite angry and upset, quite particularly at myself as had I passed first time there would have been no problem.

...with one reply so far.

Exile

I know I have been neglecting this blog. Being in the teaching profession you have to be very careful what you say in any medium, not least the Internet where it is difficult to remain hidden. I intend to make a patchy return from my blogging exile.

At the moment I am exactly equidistant between the rock and a hard place. I am unable to decide on my next steps and this is not entirely due to my indecision. To those that know me, they will know that I haven’t qualified as a teacher and that I need to undertake a further final placement. I have some options open to me.

I could do exactly that. That is certainly not the easiest option. Without getting into “administration hiccups”, which are frustrating, I need to find accommodation for three months and get the money to pay for it. With regard to the accommodation, services attached to the university have been rather unhelpful — even delaying the return payment of our deposits for last year’s accommodation. Few private landlords are willing to offer such short term lets. In the absence of being able to give assurances on my future location this has added to the delay of finding me a potential school to do my placement in.

There is the option to abandon the idea of teaching completely, which I am not keen to do but seems the more realistic option. I am uncertain of the viability of this option. Judging where I am now compared to the desolate, disheartening place I was at this time last year, I feel I am in a worse position, somehow. Any potential employer worth their salt will ask me about the previous year and the reasons for not completing the course. Therefore, any role I take is likely to be menial. I have to be prepared for that, but I hope that anyone can see why this is less desirable to me than my first option.

I met and became friends with some absolutely unforgettable and brilliant people during my time there and, dare I say it, friends for life! But though I know I shouldn’t, I feel a little regretful that I went there.

...with no replies just yet.

Oh Come All Ye Faithful

I wanted to talk about my graduation on Monday, but I am also going to talk about faith. Faith is a fantastic thing. Faith is the belief that something good will come of something. It isn’t really a tangible thing, and the degree of its existence is purely at the discretion of the beholder.

But what does faith do? It can do good things and bad things: it spurs people on to support others; it gives people the conviction to do certain things; it gives reason when otherwise there would be no meaning. These can be interpreted in different ways, and not just within the confines of religion, either.

Faith can be bad for other reasons. Finding that your faith has been misplaced is soul-crushing; and the more you commit to a faith the more destroying it can become when that faith comes undone. But faith isn’t a one-way thing. You do not have to be a deity to have faith placed in you. If you find yourself in that position, it immediately becomes a role of responsibility. Letting such faith slide will be of great disappointment to those that entrusted you with their belief.

Lastly, I mentioned before that faith inspires people to act and gives them reason to do so. This applies to both the faith-holder and the faith-giver.

I would like to thank the lecturers at Newcastle University that have placed in their faith in me: in particular to Dr Michael White, Dr Alina Vdovina and Dr Zinaida Lykova who spoke to me on Monday. They have shown trust in my ability (despite my doubts!) beyond the course, and have urged me to look into studying towards a PhD. I’d also like to thank Mum and Dad for being there and making the best of the day (even though there was a lot of standing around in the drizzle). I would also like to thank anyone else that has shown any sort of faith in me of whom they may be numerous.

A final note: the ceremony was recorded and can be viewed at the University congregations website (fast forward to 40 minutes if you don’t want to see the entire hour’s ceremony!). I’d like to thank Lord Patten that presided over the ceremony in his position as Chancellor of the University (I understand he was not present at all ceremonies) because that was pretty much a bonus!

Graduation Photograph Placeholder

...with no replies just yet.

Privileges for the Privileged

I read this morning about Lord Coe’s glowing view of the legacy of the 2012 Olympic Games. He says:

I don’t see a generation out there who are lost or are hoodies, I don’t see the world like that, when I go around that’s not what I see.

I’ve taken a rather pessimistic view of sport in Britain, and that the Olympics will do little to change that. In my personal experience, sport is only pushed in the way of those that display early talent. And even then, only those that get personal attention early on have a chance of making it into the big time.

It was a gripe of mine that while at Borden Grammar, that despite years of concerns from teachers about lack of funding and teaching resources for academic studies, funding was made available for and spent on a huge astroturf pitch, a new pavilion (with impressive catering facilities) and an additional all-weather area for other sports. It felt like a betrayal, in part, that I spent time in a school supposedly encouraging academic excellence, which maintained a firm eye on improving the sports facilities. This wouldn’t have irked me so much had there not already been an astroturf pitch in Sittingbourne, and had the school not been surrounded by a park, a leisure centre, further field space and a local workers’ group recreation centre.

But despite this, during my time at university and at school, I’ve found that time is invested in you only if you are a marketable asset. If you can represent the school or university at a competitive level, you are open to all sorts of time investiture, financial investment and perks. I never felt welcome at football or cricket trials at school and was never really encouraged at all during that time. At university, participating in any sort of sporting activity requires money (and a substantial amount): that is, of course, unless you show any sort of finesse. In which case, you are not only treated to free gym membership and use of all the university’s sporting facilities (and I dare say priority in obtaining them), you are also privy to free personal attention, performance monitoring and any advice they can spare (see the CPRS site).

In essence, sport is for those that have the time invested in them. This is the kind of thing Lord Coe sees. If you have been able to build on early talent, you will never see a locked door. If you are like me and want to get into sport, I hear tiddlywinks is quite affordable.

...with no replies just yet.

All Over

Well the exams have passed. Now it’s a waiting game for the results. It wasn’t a great exam. Everything I had studied on Monday had pretty much vanished from my short term memory… perhaps occupied by recent events. I relied on my long term memory which thankfully wasn’t too shabby as usual, so I should have done enough to get a half-decent mark, though I suspect it won’t be as high as I might have expected. It’s all rather unfortunate.

But I haven’t been allowed to feel sorry myself for too long. I am getting constant reminders of what should be my current preoccupation: finding a job. And I am still being too picky. I’ve decided I won’t work or live in London. I really don’t like the place and I cannot see why so many love it so much.

I am thinking of becoming a personal tutor again: and that is no easy option. I need to seek some advice on that score. In the mean time, I do have a couple jobs that should see me through the summer at least.

...with 13 replies.

Don’t Believe a Word

Would you rather a child be taught Mathematics by someone who knows how to teach, or by someone who knows how to do Mathematics? This article describes how less than half of teachers of Mathematics in secondary schools in this country hold a degree in a relevant subject. It doesn’t make me feel any happier. £40 million over the last five years was spent to try encourage people like myself to become teachers… and they turn me away.

Value for money or what?

...with no replies just yet.

Exam Before the Storm

I received an email from Newcastle University recently about the tickets they have allocated for my graduation. I was hoping to receive my basic allocation, plus the two seats in the TV relay room they advised we should apply for. This email told me that they have received more applications for these TV relay tickets than expected, and that they will offer me… none. This angered me: they have not set aside tickets equally for their students. So I complained, but to little avail.

Dad rang this evening, to talk about the graduation amongst other things. He seems all sorted and he will be coming. Mum doesn’t like it (at all) but thankfully she is overlooking that fact to come. However, the remaining problem was that of my maternal grandparents. My original plan was to give them the two seats I had been expecting to receive for the relay room. However, not being given these tickets meant that they would not be able to come at all. After I had spoken to Dad, Mum decided it would be the best to inform my grandparents of the news.

I’d wanted to invite them to thank them for the help they gave me in my first year. However it had always been their intention for me to show a greater gratitude by turning my father away and inviting my grandad instead. On receiving the news from Mum that Dad would be coming, I am now excommunicated from the family in their eyes, and Mum’s position isn’t all to rosy either. Even had I got those tickets, they made it clear they would have refused to come. They have made some childish threats and have effectively sought to make Mum choose between ties with me and her ties with them.

Oh… and wish me luck for my exam tomorrow.

...with 2 replies.

Job Interview, Part 2

Applying for a place on a PGCE course isn’t as simple as just completing an application form then popping in for an interview, as I found out this week. The application process is controlled by an arm of UCAS, the university admissions service. As such, it costs £5 just to enquire. Furthermore, any correspondence you make to any universities you apply to must pass through their hands first. That is just the first obstacle.

I was invited for an interview on Wednesday (yesterday). However, this “interview” would last from 11am until 4pm. The actual interview lasted half an hour at the end of the day. Beforehand, we were asked to present a small presentation on some rather appalling “stimuli” for starter activities for a lesson; discussed the worst piece of television journalism ever created to support private schools in the developing world; and finally writing an essay on how labelling children as problems based on their welfare is bound to inhibit their self-esteem. Two sides of A4…

That’s not to say I didn’t learn anything: the interview was rather useful. The head of maths in the education department pointed out my errors when attempting to answer his classroom-based questions. And I committed a few errors. I’m not so sure I shall get a place on this course, so I was rather hopeless (in more way than one) until today.

Today was the deadline of my written project. It’s funny, most people were very reluctant to hand it in. They were talking about asking the secretary to pull hard on the file to prise the object from the author’s hands. I’m not so sure why that is. Perhaps it is a fear of the impending scrutinising of the work inside. Perhaps it is the fact that they have spent the best part of a year working on it, and continually changing it and never truly reaching satisfaction. I was quite pleased to hand it in in the end. It isn’t perfect. I would have liked to have added more, particularly proving that the simplicial homology groups of a space make a topological invariant. But it’s not bad either.

...with no replies just yet.

Replenishment

This week has been a pretty good one, all in all. My project is starting to take shape (it’s in for two weeks, so I haven’t exactly got all the time in the world), I’ve come to a decision that I have worried about the whole time I have been at university, and of course Newcastle United are performing much better.

It does feel a little like things are on the up. I hope it lasts.

...with no replies just yet.

Anti-Climax

After lectures on Friday, I headed straight to Cheltenham by train for the first part of a job application. It’s a long train journey: stopping at Durham, Darlington, York, Leeds, Wakefield Westgate, Doncaster, Sheffield, Chesterfield, Derby, Birmingham New Street and finally Cheltenham Spa four and a half hours later.

Staying overnight in a Travelodge on a Friday night I have learnt — which seems obvious now — is a bad idea. The walls there are rather thin. This problem was further accentuated by the inability to shut any of the windows. I did manage to get quite a bit of sleep though, thankfully.

It was a gruelling schedule of tests that day: a one-and-a-half hour mathematics exam designed to stretch the most seasoned of mathematicians; a one hour exam of intense comprehension of certain systems; followed by about half an hour completing a test designed to analyse your opinions and social behaviour. I felt this test was fairly pointless: it can’t have painted a complete picture of myself, and their reasoning behind it leads me to suspect an ulterior motive.

Perhaps the worst part of the weekend was coming back — the train I caught passed through Birmingham and Derby at what would be rush hour on a weekday, but being a Saturday it became the train-run home for away football supporters. The Spurs’ supporters were particularly brash after beating Derby County 3-0, and routinely chanted for much of the journey to Darlington.

Our train was delayed three times; twice by those of dire intelligence (smokers) who refused to stop smoking to point that the British Transport Police were twice called upon the train to remove the offenders. The third delay was caused by, apparently, Newcastle Central station having a single platform in operation (out of 14), which was taken for a continuous period of 20 minutes.

Lesson of the Day

Get a car.

...with no replies just yet.

« Older Entries