Search This Blog

Wednesday, 19 December 2012

Merry Christmas Everybody!

or

Yay, I've found my Christmas spirit



This time next week, it'll be all over and we'll be in hangover season hell.  I may have been a bit bah humbug in last week's post, but it kick-started me into getting things done.  Now the cards are sent, the, admittedly pathetic, decorations are up and presents are bought.  I didn't do a Santa list this year.  I decided to go for the surprise and sulk because I didn't get anything I like, option.  Well I suppose it's better than making a list and then sulking because although you got what you wanted, it's pink or has some equally horrendous design flaw.

The guitar & cello get a santa hat!
Now it's all about working out party logistics.  There's so many people I want to catch up with, and so few days to do so.  Coupled with this is the fact that I'm spending daylight hours feeling decidedly groggy and the week passes in a blurry haze.  I think I might give myself a break and stay in tonight!

There's still two days of work to go, but they get messy at this time of year.  Most people have switched off and so it's very difficult to get anything constructive done.  Students toggle between freaking out about the amount of assignments they have to get done and belting out Christmas songs.

Tomorrow night is our Christmas party.  A few years ago, we used to go all out and have dinner and possibly a cabaret or casino night.  No-one has the money for that anymore.  The recession has seen to that.  This year, as last, we are going to a city-centre hostelry for pints and some finger food.  It could go either way, but I'm cautiously optimistic that we'll have a good night.  I might even get the glad rags out, although it's hard to go all-out for a night in a pub.

We'll be in work on Friday of course.  For me Christmas begins with the hungover meeting following our Christmas party.  It's cruel of me I suppose.  I don't seem to suffer as badly from hangovers as my colleagues.  I get a sadistic pleasure in watching them sweat, groan and wince in pain before we are finally released to do last minute Christmas shopping.  We do kris kindle in work.  I have my present all wrapped up, in the box and ready to go.  I think it's a nice way to end, with everyone who participates getting presents.


Wednesday, 12 December 2012

Less than 2 weeks!

or

Help, I've nothing done!



Well it's December and it's past time to enter into the Christmas spirit.  This was brought home to me in work today where we had a Christmas jumper day.  I didn't participate, I didn't think it was appropriate.  Bah humbug and all that!  But hey, I am participating in the Kris Kindle and picked my 'victim' today.  It's always a nice way to break up for the Christmas, with a (hopefully) nice present.  I have some ideas of what to get, but it all depends on whether or not I can get to the shops.

I should be prepared.  The weekend before last, I helped out a Christmas market.  Not quite as nice as the Christmas market in Frankfurt I went to with the oul pair last year, but still it was a sign.  And tomorrow, I'm playing a Christmas concert, my first one on the cello.  Christmas is always a busy time of Christmas concerts and singing carols.  (I got myself roped into an impromptu choir at the Christmas market).

So in between concerts and silliness at work, there's still a lot to be done.  Make a present list, try to figure out what people want, go to the shops.  Don't forget the wrapping paper "5 for 50!" as they used say on Moore Street.  I'm sure it's gone up now.  I'm very bad at the cards.  Some years I decide that I'm not going to send any.  Others I enthusiastically buy enough to send to the whole country.  Either way, I'm not too good at actually sending them.  Some years I have them all written, but somehow they never make it into the post.  I did buy some already this year (damn charities and their emotional blackmail) but they could well remain in the bag until next year.

Then there's the decorations.  There are some outside lights up in my area already but not too many.  It's probably down to the continuing recession.  Those I have seen tend, on the whole, to be quite tasteful.  Thankfully the tackiness of yester-year seems to have died with the tiger.  No harm! I haven't put up any.  It seems like far too much effort.  Someone called me a grinch today.  They might not have been too far out.

One thing I usually look forward to at Christmas is the endless array of parties and revellery that one is obliged to partake in.  Now, I have been to a lot of parties in the last couple of months.  It's been averaging at about one a week, but unfortunately these have all been 40th birthday parties.  I say unfortunately because mine is just around the corner.  There hasn't been as much drinking at Christmas in the last couple of years, as a number of my friends have started pushing out babies and are more interested in having an early night than a bit of craic.  However, I still have a few dates in my diary and on the bright side, I'll end up with more cash in my wallet at the end of it!

Whatever happens, come Christmas day, I'll be with the whole family, opening presents, and stuffing myself with turkey, ham, stuffing, gravy, roasted potatoes and Christmas pudding.  My favourite dinner of the year.  I bags a leg!  Must remember to wear an elasticated waist...

Wednesday, 5 December 2012

Another week, another hospital

or

A lot of effort to go to for a day off work



This time it's the time of Cappagh where I had a ganz osteotomy in 2007.  I've been coming here once a year ever since for a check-up.  Each time it's the same.  You sign in at the registration desk and then make your way down to the x-ray department.  It's a considerable walk for someone with mobility isssues which is rather bizarre as this is the National Orthopedic Hospital and a fair number of cripples grace its doors daily.

After the x-ray department which is, one must say, extremely efficient, you make the long treck back to the registration area.  This year, there are some new notices in place.  Graphs helpfully inform us that the cost of missed appointments, calculated at €80 each, came to €50,080 in 2011 and in the current year up to September, came to €42,320.  That's 626 missed appointments in 2011 and 529 in the first three quarters of 2012.  Who are these people who miss appointments?  It takes so long to get one!

However, I can understand how it could happen.  For instance, I was sick all Sunday night with what I diagnosed as food poisening, due to having consumed some seriously dodgy ham.  Not, Winter Vomiting Bug as an idiot nurse tried to convince me.  Anyway, if my appointment had been Monday, I'd have had to cancel at the last minute.  Also, if I'd had an appointment last Spring I may have had to cancel as I spent much ofthat time hanging out in Tallaght Hospital.

There's a huge difference between the two institutions.  Cappagh is an older hospital, more specialised, more compact.  While you still prepare yourself for a long wait, there's not the same mill of people hanging around and there's nobody sick, as such.  Tallaght is characterised by trolleys zipping around and shuffling patients in pyjamas sneaking out to have a forbidden smoke.

This time, in Cappagh, I'm in the consulting room at 13:50, a mere 25 minutes after my appointment time, although I arrived 15 minutes early and there's no sign of a doctor until 14:30.  Today I get a whole 5 minutes of his time, as I have to update them on my health issues.  I'm fine for now.  Come back again next year.  

This hour and a half of hanging around is a significant improvement on Tallaght.  My record from appointment time to seeing a doctor there is almost four hours.  Four hours where you daren't get a coffee and plea to people to listen out for your name if you have to use the toilet facilities, for fear you'll miss your turn.

Cappagh is a much calmer proposition.  The out-patients is separated from the wards and there's less wandering about of patients as many are there for hip or knee procedures.  The food is also much better in Cappagh.  By much better, I mean that it's actually edible.  In Tallaght, I had to coerce friends and family to smuggle me in wittles.

Tallaght is chaotic, with inedible food, lots of hustle and bustle and files and records regularly go missing.  However a good proportion of the nursing (although by no means all) and medical staff are conscientious and caring and doing their best.  (The surgical staff, as with many hospitals are mainly arrogant and more interested in their technical expertise than your health).  Unfortunately, despite many good reports from patients who've been there, I found the opposite to be true in Cappagh.  There were a lot of agency staff while I was there who just didn't seem to care or think it was their job to look after you.

Given the choice between being fairly well, having good food and being in a calm environment, to being very ill, unable to eat the 'food' served, immersed in chaos, but with staff who at least give the impression of caring, I have to say, having experienced both, I'd go for illness, starvation and chaos in Tallaght anytime.

Wednesday, 28 November 2012

Eight months on... 10,000 miles

or

Oops, moaning again.  Didn't mean to, honest!


There's no denying we're in Winter now.  This morning, for the first time, the car registered temparatures below 0; -1.5 degrees to be precise.  A few years ago, before I got the double glazing and the attic insulated, I'd know the instant I woke up what sort of day it was.  I may as well not have had windows; the curtains would sway at the slightest breeze outside.

It's a different story nowadays though.  There have been times when I've stumbled out of the leaba and made my way slowly, torturously towards the kitchen re-fueled, shook the head to get it together and been half a mile down the road wearing just a t-shirt and jeans before realising "Fuck, it's cold!".  By then it's too late and I motor on.  You'd think I'd notice the windscreen all fogged up, but it takes an hour or so for the fuzziness to leave the eyes in the morning and I do live in an area prone to fog... (only joking, in case any Gardaí are reading this!).

I've got a bit smarter about it now, though.  Now, while I'm having my Weetabix, I take the pre-emptive stp of glancing out the window and, if necessary, turning on the engine, leaving the car to thaw out while I brush my teeth and throw on a jumper.

This was a lot easier in the Corolla.  My first post on this blog was a lament to her and an introduction to her replacement, the A3.  At the time, I thought it was just the normal start of a new relationship.  I knew what worked with the ex and I'd soon learn to appreciate the Audi's little ways.  We'd grow closer and I'd soon realise it was all for the best.  This is what happened when I dumped the Starlet for the Corolla on 31st March 2000.  Mind you, although I didn't dig the red colour, I did pretty much fall in love with her straight away.

Anyway, I digress.  Back to the cold mornings.  In the past, I could scurry out to the Corolla (strange that I never named her what with all the anthropomorphising and all), open the door, turn the key switch on the heating and dash back to the house.  Now I have to actually get into the A3 to start the engine.  The damn thing won't start unless you depress the clutch.  Now I'm sure there was an excellent reason for this design feature but I'm convinced that whoever designed this car has never actually considered driving it as a daily mode of tranport.  Or, it they did, they certainly don't have a gammy hip which can seriously hamper one's ability to climb in and out of the driver's seat, or indeed any seat!

The next issue that occurs with the A3 is the reverse light.  Yes, light, singular.  There appears to be only one, on the left-hand side and it's not very bright at that.  This may not matter to a city dweller, but for someone in the countryside, it becomes a major issue.  I park around the back, so in the morning I have to reverse around the shed, without hitting it or the water barrel to the left and the holly tree and some other kind of tree (it has blossoms in the Spring) to the right.  Not an easy task when you can't see where you are going.  I've taken to turning on the fog lights on these dark mornings.  This didn't occur to me in the Spring when I bought the car as I never had this trouble with my Toyotas.

One thing I did notice straight away is that having a diesel car when you have to listen for traffic to get out of your drive-way is not the most sensible idea.  I live on a bad bend and get a nice little burst of adrenalin pulling out in the mornings, or indeed at any time.  It's not too bad at night because you can see the on-coming lights of cars, or at least it wasn't before some dumb-wit decided to put up an occasional street light.  "Oh, diesel cars have come on a lot", I was told.  "You'd never notice the difference these days and you'e be mad to buy petrol with the mileage you do".  Well, they may be quieter than they were, but they're not quiet enough!

She's well broken in now.  I've done over 10,000 miles on her.  However, she still doesn't inspire me to take any road trips, which may be saving me a fortune on fuel and hotels, but I don't get out much.  I was very exceited when I bought her first because, for the first time, I had a car with a CD player.  Unfortunately, there's no suitable cubbyhole to store the damn discs!  There is, of course, the glove compartment, but that's a bit of a stretch for me to reach and invariably involves removing seat belt.  There are other storage compartments, but they're not the right shape.  Not ideal.

The cup holder is another issue.  In the Corolla, it was between the ashtray and what would have been a CD player if I'd bothered installing one but was, for me, the tape storage space.  You pushed it in and out would slide a double cup-holder.  Perfect!  In the A3, there's only one, under the armrest.  To use it involves some awkward elbow bending.  Also, its size means that a take-away coffee sits right into it and has to be remove by gentling grasping the lid.  I haven't had an accident yet, but it's only a matter of time before I arrive into work with wet trousers and scalded thighs.

So, there we have it.  I'm not good with change.  Eight months on and 10,000 miles under the belt and I still haven't adapted.  The only problem is, if I traded her in, I've no idea what to get. I don't like the new Aurus (the Corolla hatchback's replacement) at all and indeed, at the time, the A3 seemed the closest match to my requirements.  Time for another search I guess.  Any suggestions would be very welcome!

Note: Here's a 'tune' from incredibox I created earlier to make up for the moaning!

Wednesday, 21 November 2012

Dowling Dinner Dialogue

or

A day in the life


Note:  Names have been changed and some 'poetic licence' used

So a couple of days ago, I was pottering around the house when I received the summons.  Now, for some reason the landline has been acting up over the last few months and for some other, more obvious, reasons i.e. laziness, I haven't got on to Eircom about it, so it was the mobile which emitted a muffled ring.  Accordingly, I extricated it from beneath the couch cushions and swiped the screen to answer it.  "Hello, hello?  Can you hear me?  Hang on a sec!"  I limp outside into the Autumnal wind and lounge in a spot I know my telephone will have reception.  It's the mother and my presence is requested for dinner.  "Grand, grand.  Do you want to head out somewhere?"  No, she's had a long week, we'll get a take-away.

A few hours later, I'm ensconced in my parents' sitting-room, balancing a chinese precariously on my knees and attempting to eat it, without getting sauce all over my clothes, with the Good Newbridge Silverware.  My parents are on the couch and my niece is perched on the arm of the armchair, Eric the cat having earlier claimed his territory.   Presently, my sister arrives in good time for cake and coffee.

My father is a well-read man and can often be found absorbed in some weighty biographical tome but this evening he's revelling in Roddy Doyle's latest - Two Pints.  It's the first book, he reliably informs us, that was published first in Facebook before appearining in print form.  So, our catching-up gossip, where I ask the niece how university life is treating her and how she can survive campus life without a bar, is frequently punctuated by small fits of giggles from himself.  "Very good, very good", he grins.

Every now and then, all else halts as he regales us with a passage.  "So there's these two lads, right?  And they're having a couple of pints down the pub, ok?"  "Ok, fire ahead", says I.
- Have yeh made your mind up yet?
- A pint - same as always.  I haven't had to make me mind up since -
- I meant the election
- Ah, shove it
- Well it's either tha' or the Greek default
- Alrigh' - fuck it. Who's goin' to win?
- Hard to say.  They're all shite!
We chuckle in the appropriate places and return to our meandering gossip.  Our niece, being a good fresher politics student has been on a protest in the Dáil over the student cuts.  Fair play to her, every student should go on at least one protest march or sit-in.  I tell her about the times I went on marches about the cuts to the students dole.  Thousands spent on educating us (you had to pay university fees then) and the best we could up with as a slogan was "Woodsie is a wanker!"  Ah, they were the days!

The conversation steers somehow towards my primary school teachers.  "Are they not all dead yet?", I venture mischievously (they're of an age with my parents).  "No, only two of them.  Mrs. Doyle and Sr. Mary".  "Ah, right. Actually, now I come to think of it, I met Mrs Smith in Dundrum last year.  In the toy shop.  So, Sr. Mary's dead is she?  She once gave me an awful thump on the back, near winded me!"  "She could be violent, alright", replies the mother, "but she was from a very wealthy family". 

I try to remember the nuns at the school.  There weren't many of them.  I name three and then "Oh, Lesbian Lou! I nearly forgot about her.  She did the basketball!  Was she in your school when you were there?", I ask my sister.  "I don't think she was a lesbian", my mother interrupts.  "We all thought she was".  "But she came from a good family.  Her father was a banker."  "Doesn't mean she wasn't a lesbian." "I suppose".  At this point my sister interjects (the niece is now engrossed in texting her mates).  "Dad, I don't know why you're reading that book.  Just listen to the conversation here!"

We talk about our plans for the evening.  My niece is meeting her friends down the local.  "I'm going to Carlow", I say.  "Carlow?" "Yeah, there's a party on, a 40th".  I'm going to a lot of those these days.  Another giggle from the father.  "Do you know what going to Carlow meant when I was young?", he says.  "Probably the same as what going to Dundrum meant when I was young!", I counter.  Smiles all around.  "Probably!"  "And Portlaoise", says the mother.  "Some people were sent to Portlaoise instead".

"There were a lot of people sent to Carlow in those days", says the father.  My mother: "I remember a girl I knew went to Carlow".  "What happened to her?", I ask.  "She kept running away, they kept sending her back."  "Do you remember Seán Dedalus from down The Commons?", my father asks her.  "He went to Carlow".  "Was he related to yer man Dedalus down the road from you?", I ask.  "No, different family".  "It's an unusual name", says I.  "Doesn't matter, they still weren't related".  "No, they were a different social class altogether", says my mother.  "That wouldn't mean they weren't related", I persist.  "Well, they weren't". "Ok".

There's a short lull.  "So, what happened to yer man Seán then, that went to Carlow?", I ask.  "They let him out.  He came back and killed his brother", my father informs us.  "It was always going to happen", says my mother.  "Wha'?": the father.  "Mrs Lynch used to visit with that family and they always told her if he got out, he'd kill one of them."  "But she would have been dead when he murdered him!", my father says.  "Well, she knew it years beforehand and she was right".  Another pause, then my mother comes up with this nugget "There was another Dedalus nearby, in Kilcullen.  Not related either.  He was a butcher".  "You sure they weren't related?"  We all laugh.

The evening continues with more inconsequental trivia being pitched back and forth until "Come on", I say to the niece.  "I'll drop you to the pub on my way".  I leave her at the pub.  Not at the door.  Oh no, her mates are drinking cans in the car park.  I head on.  It's been a good evening.  Pity I missed last weekend when the brother and the sister-in-law were there as well.

Wednesday, 14 November 2012

A self-proclaimed bookworm

or

His writing is not about something.  It is the thing itself


I've always loved reading.  I can still remember my first books.  I had several from the Read it Yourself series and can still remember reading Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Little Red Riding Hood, The Elves and The Shoemaker.  A quick search shows they're still available.  They provided me with hours of entertainment before I could even walk!  (Before you think I'm exagerating or was some kind of child genius, I guess you should know that I couldn't really walk before the age of about 4½ due to hip problems).  I also remember the Mister Men.  Mr Bump was always my favourite, possibly because I was well used to being in a plaster cast.
Some of my favourite books

Later I moved on to AA Milne's Winnie the Pooh and the wonderful world of Enid Blighton.  I still have Now We Are Six, which I think I got on my 6th birthday and contains possibly the first poem I learned off by heart.  It ends -
"But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever,
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever."
I still wish I was six.  It was a great time.  My 6th birthday was the first day I was allowed to cross the main road and go to the shop all by myself.  Little did I know that I'd be crossing that road to that shop to buy the morning paper every morning until I finally moved out of the parental home 19 years later!  Yeah, 6 was a pretty good age to be!

I was rarely without a book as a child.  In the car, at the dinner-table, in bed.  I would totally immerse myself in the story and become completely oblivious to the world around me.  I retreated, very happily, into the fantastic world that these stories introduced to me.  I was lucky to come from a home filled with books.  There were (and still are) only two rooms in my parents' house that did not contain bookcases; the bathroom and the kitchen.  Even the kitchen contained books in the form of recipe books.  There was always something to read; TS Eliot, Edna O'Brien, Shakespeare, Liam O'Flaherty, George Orwell.  A seemingly never-ending library to choose from.

And if that was not sufficient to satisfy my appetite, I could borrow Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes from my brother or Virginia Andrews and Stephen King books from my sister.  The years passed and I found my own niche.  I discovered the world of fantasy and science fiction, nourished further when I went to college.  By this stage, people were starting to have PCs and the fact my boyfriend of the time got a present of the role-playing computer game Dune, closely matching to Frank Herbert's series of books which were the book du jour of the time, was the icing on the cake.  It is just as well I was with him when he bought his first computer, or I could have been accused of being with him for his technology!

Time moved ever onwards, and I began to expand, ever so slightly, my range of reading material.  For many years, I waited longingly for pay-day when I could scour the bookshops and get my fill of literature for the month.  My default genre is still fantasy.  For some reason, science fiction has no longer holds the same allure, although Douglas Adams has to be one of my favourite authors.  One of my favourite passages in any of his books (and believe me I have many) is from The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul and the whole pizza incident.  Of course the Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy is his better known trilogy in five parts.
 
I guess he's more comedic sci-fi rather that Arthur C Clare and his ilk territory.  However there is a comfort in returning to fantasy books.  They are, by and large, fairly formulaic.  There's a journey, a lot of descriptive passages (which admittedly I do sometimes skim), a lot of drinking and wenching and fighting, a battle between good and evil with good ultimately triumphing.  Yes, they're predictable but that makes them comforting.  You know what to expect.  At the end of a long day's work, you can pick up an old favourite and escape for a while.  It doesn't matter if you fall asleep in the middle of it.  They're not too taxing on the brain.  I read my favourites over and over again and never tire of them.  As Oscar Wilde said
"If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all"

While I automatically reach for the crime and fantasy books,  I do try and break free and seek out new horizons every now and then.  I love randomly coming across a new author and having a whole new world opened up to me.  I remember my first Georges Simenom, introduced to me by another boyfriend.  (Good taste in books is not my only criteria for a date, honest!).  What a joy to discover someone so prolific - 75 novels and 28 short stories about his detective Maigret alone!  And yet some of my favourites wouldn't feature Maigret at all!


Other joys randomly discovered include Louise de Bernieres Birds Without Wings, a book I would whole-heartedly recommend.  He, of course is the author of Captain Corelli's Mandolin with that magical passage where the captain is about to give a mandolin recital and when the doctor, in frustration at the seemingly needless wait, asks when he is about to start, the captain remonstrates that he was counting his bars rest at the start of the piece.  I guess you may have to be a musician to appreciate that, but it had been giggling for hours and even now the thought of it raises a smile.  More recently I discovered David Lodge's Deaf Sentence, a hilarious book published in 2008 and one you really should read.

And of course, the best thing about books is that they are such good value for money.  For less than a tenner, it is possible to buy a book, that depending on your reading speed and the number of pages, you can enjoy for an evening or a month.  And even if a tenner is a tenner more than you can spare, there is also the library.  There you can browse and borrow to your heart's content and find new worlds to take you away from the drudgery of the daily grind.

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

The End of the World as We Know It

or

We're doomed, I say.  Doomed!


Society is regressing.  For a long time, I was blissfully unaware of this, believing the propaganda that we were becoming more enlightened and advanced.  The light bulb moment, for me, came with the EU decision to ban traditional light bulbs  and switch to more energy efficient energy saver bulbs.  This may seem like a good idea, but we are going from a society where you could have instant light, bright enough for reading, sewing, whatever you’re having yourself, at the flick on a switch.  I tried these new-fangled bulbs.  Once evening came I had to turn them all to ensure I had sufficient light when I needed it.  This is not progress, this is regression.

Once I realised this I started thinking about ancient civilisations which once ruled the world and why they collapsed.  At first, they advance and became capable of great technical feats.  Then there is a greater disparity between the haves and have not, people in power get greedy and complacent, things are taken for granted and the general state of affairs starts to decline.

EphesusOf course, warfare is a major factor and certainly the reason for the fall of the Aztecs in 1519 during the Spanish conquest but it was a different story for the other great civilisation of MesoAmerica – the Mayans.   Maya civilization declined gradually over a period of 150 years between 800 and 1000 AD.  There are a number of suggested causes, peasant revolts, soil exhaustion, epidemic diseases, earthquakes, ideological fatigue, drought, over-population, loss of confidence in rulers.  The reasons were complex, but the result was the disintegration of the Maya.  Likewise it has been suggested that classical Greece and Rome fell because they over-reached themselves, a greater disparity between the wealthy and the common people emerged and it started to fall apart from within.

Apart from the lightbulb situation, another sign that society is collapsing is the so-called “obesity epidemic” in Western society.  It has been proposed that for the first time, children’s life expectancy is less than their parents.  It’s true that there is still a lot of poverty and malnutrition in the world.  Think of Haiti, just one country where conditions are to me, a typical Westerner, both intolerable and unimaginable.  But, at the same time, according to Jess Greenwood , speaking at Wired 2012, “This is the first year in history that more people will die of obesity than malnutrition”.  Society is getting fat and lazy, and also, I would argue, dumber.

Grade inflation  has been a problem in Ireland for at least the last 10, if not 15, years.  Of course, I won’t go any further back than that because I earned my BSc in 1994 and naturally the decline in educational standards started after that.

I’ve been suspicious about this for a long time, starting with the change from the Intermediate Certificate to the Junior Certificate (for 15 year olds) in Irish education in 1992.  Hailed as the future, a more practical and student-centred examination, to me it seemed simpler.  There is a mistaken belief, extremely prevalent in education (and not just in Ireland, it is also present in British and US education.  I cannot comment on any other countries), that children need to be praised and encouraged to succeed.  Bullshit, I say and Baumeister et al, writing in Scientific American Magazine in 2005 support my instincts in their (pdf) article “Exploding theSelf-Esteem Myth  a must-read for every parent and educator.

In a misguided attempt to ensure young people feel good about themselves, creative ways are sought to ensure no-one fails.  Modern policies, instead of raising the bar for everyone, lowers acceptable levels to the lowest common denominator.  Again my first brush with this was when the powers that be ‘improved’ honours Leaving Certificate Mathematics, by shortening the course and removing the unpredictable questions which challenged people. 

Now we’re about to dumb down second level education again.  The Junior Certificate is to be amended yet again with a proportion of it being examined in-house, thus significantly reducing it objectivity and rendering it worthless.  Then, there’s the people who go on about multiple intelligence and learning styles.  These theories, while still in vogue, have been comprehensively debunked (to read arguments against multiple intelligence, have a read of Lynn Waterhouse  or Daniel Willingham’s articles, for learning styles, read Psychological Science  or Joe Bondra ’s articles).  A quick search on the internet will uncover more examples.  Despite this, these theories are still bandied around as facts in learning environments with teachers adjusting and designing their lesson plans accordingly.

So, despite all the ‘improvements’ in teaching methods over the years, and the move to a more child centred approach with smaller class sizes and more teaching assistants (compared to the 1980s when I was in school), people are leaving school with lower educational attainment.  This is quite a strong statement and admittedly I only have anecdotal evidence to back it up, but I’ll stick with my story. 

Apart from grade inflation which is an acknowledged phenomenon in the US , in the UK , in Ireland  and other countries around the world , as a teacher is a college of further education, I can see the educational standards slipping.  School leavers do not know their maths tables and find it very hard to cope without a calculator.  Some would argue that it today’s world, with instant access to information and technology, that there is no need to learn things off and that more emphasis should be placed on other things; active learning and critical thinking being very fashionable these days. 

However, these students cannot tell when their answers are wrong.  They blindly trust technology.  Students will use a calculator to add 2 + 3 and will not blink an eyelid if they get the answer 6 due to unwittingly hitting the multiplication button instead of the plus sign.  I think that the world would be a better place if they had to learn things by heart and if they were not allowed to use calculators until they got to 5th year (like it was in my day, bah humbug!)

I’ve also noticed that students can’t transcribe anymore.  Today, you don’t mark students down for bad spelling or grammar.  To do so can be seen as being overly fussy and mean.  This results in students not understanding the importance of accuracy which manifests itself in my web authoring classes where leaving out a > sign can have an alarming effect on their work.  Yet still they’re sloppy.

So this has developed into a bit of a diatribe against the current state of education, but the point I’m making is that, in my opinion, standards of education are slipping.  Students do not have the basic building blocks, the traditional reading, writing and arithmetic skills, to maintain society at current levels and improve it into the future.

Yet another sign that we are heading for an imminent collapse of the world as we know it is the alarming level of fraud which has recently come to light in both science and psychology .  As reported by Etchells and Gage in the Guardian , anaesthesiologist Yoshitoka Fujii holds the record for most fraudulent papers at 172.  As someone who has been quite ill for a significant proportion of this year, this is alarming.  172 papers on asaesthesiology by one person have been found to be fraudulent.  Have medical decisions been made as a result of these fraudulent papers?  Have people’s health or lives been put at risk because of this?

It is not a common suspicion, due in part to popular fiction, film and television, that the major pharmaceutical  companies are only out to make money, sponsor studies that confirm their findings etc. etc.  But now, we have confirmation that this is happening in the heart of academia!  Who can we trust now?  No wonder the religious fanatics are on the increase!  It also means that all the links I’ve made in this article to website which I’ve carefully selected to back up my points, while studiously ignoring any that might contradict me, are highly dubious.  How do I know if they can be trusted or not?  How can we separate the wheat from the chaff?

Recently, a number of computer generated papers have beenaccepted by apparently ‘peer-reviewed’ journals .  Here’s an example of one I co-wrote with Alan Turing and Ada Lovelace on BOB: Evaluation of Context-Free Grammar.  Hey, you can create your own papers here.
This increase in fraud has come about due to the fact that success in academia is measured by publication rate and by extension by the way it is funded.  It call to mind the novel Changing Places by David Lodge where two academics, one English, one American, swap places and University life in the two countries is compared.  At the time, one of the differences was that more emphasis was placed on publishing in America.  One really must question the purpose of a University.  Is it solely to further research in academic fields or is it to educate the next generation, in life as well as their chosen field, and leave them in a position where they can advance society culturally, technically, scientifically and economically?

I tend to subscribe to John Henry Newman’s opinion

  “The view taken of a University in these Discourses is the following. -- That it is a place of teaching universal knowledge.  This implies that its object is, on the one hand, intellectual, not moral; and, on the other, that it is the diffusion and extension of knowledge rather than the advancement.  If its object were scientific and philosophical discovery, I do not see why a University should have students; if religious training, I do not see how it can be the seat of literature and science”

I am proud that Newman was, in 1854, the first rector of my alma mater, University College Dublin, and this connection was one of the factors influencing my choice to pursue my third level education there way back in 1990.

Unfortunately capitalism rules today’s society.  There is an assumption that free trade and money is the solution to our every want.  Have we forgotten the famine so easily?  Economics is the main driving force today.  The EU may have changed its name from the EEC (European Economic Community) but we must not forget that its origins and raison d’être was economic union. 

Also while the OECD are a key driving force in advancing policies in education, it should not be forgotten that OECD stands for the Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development .  The danger with this approach is that it leaves little room for creativity and discovery.  As Bryan Jennings points out in his article The Role of Pure Research, the commercial value of a discovery is not always immediately apparent.

These kinds of policies (devised by economists and greedy, self-serving politicians) are the reason that there has been a world-wide recession for the past four years.  This capitalistic attitude to life is the reason for the rapid spread of infectious diseases  in recent years and possibly why I ended up in hospital for 18 days last February with atypical pneumonia.

This is why Ash Trees are currently under threat here  and in the UK .  This disease has killed most of Denmark’s Ash trees and could have been prevented, or at least slowed down, from spreading by banning imports , but no, this was not done, because it would impact free trade.  This is also why Ireland is now tackling crippling debt because you can’t burn the bondholders.  Thanks very much, the 1633 tulip market ofAmsterdam!  Usury has traditionally been viewed as a bad thing, you know!

Many people are struggling as a direct result of the recession.  Some blame the banks for lending money to anyone who asked for it.  Others say people need to take personal responsibility for living above their means.  This can be countered by people saying they had an expectation that their jobs were secure and their income levels would not drop.  And back and forth it goes.  Whatever the causes, people are finding it hard to get by.  There is a lot of anger and while in Ireland, it is still bubbling under the surface, it has been expressed in terms of riots in England, Greece, Spain, Italy and France.


So, let’s review the main points again. 

  • reversion to a less advanced technology; as demonstrated by the light bulb situation. 
  • the complacency and laziness of the ordinary person; as evidenced by increases in obesity
  • grade inflation and dumbing down in schools
  • overdependence on technology; people can’t recognise when a simple sum is wrong
  • seemingly high levels of fraud in academia and sponsored research which publishes expected results only
  • the economic driving force and the elevation of it importance over all else, including health
  • violent protests


Additionally, we appear undeniably to be in a period of climate change.  The polar ice-caps are melting and we can expect more extreme weather conditions.  Think of the floods in New York last week, in Dublin last year and in Gloucestershire  five years ago, to cite a few examples.  Put all of these facts together and I believe we are about to witness the destruction of our current civilisation and enter a new dark age.  As Captain Boyle so eloquently puts it in O’Casey’s classic Juno and the Paycock   
“Th’ whole worl’s in a terrible state o’ chassis”