Household sub-villains… part 2

Further tales of the sub-villains who cause merry mayhem in our household…

Mr Slops

Slops works on creating culinary chaos. If you are born after 1990, I suspect you won’t even be aware of his existence. He loves operating on the periphery. So, if you are sitting at the table, having a meal, you may only be aware of him when you aren’t looking at your son or daughter. That’s when he strikes. But while your sight may let you down, your hearing won’t. You’ll recognise the tell tale signs, the sibilant smacking of lips, of saliva and food that can best be described as ‘cud’ that emanates from your child’s mouth.

I know what you’re thinking… there are no cows at my table, but Mr Slops has powers far and wide… (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Should you turn to engage Mr Slops, one-to-one, he will immediately take over your child’s mind. You can tell this has occurred when they look at you and, through a combination of steak, mashed potato and mushy peas state, quite blankly, “Whaaaat?”

As if this weren’t enough, he has compelling powers of camouflage. Should you ask:

“Could you please chew with your mouth closed?” of your offspring, Mr Slops will once again take control of mental and vocal faculties. This can be confirmed with any response resembling:

“But I am” or thereabouts. At which point, Slops will play the final card in his deck, the capitulation card.

What does this look like? Again, no one is sure, but telltale signs include a slumping of shoulders from any parents within earshot, or perhaps an extended and quite exasperated sigh…

The last (I promise!) domestic sub-villains installment to come shortly…

The household sub-villains

It’s a great time to be alive. My son is 9 now, and if you’d ask me if I thought I’d be sharing a passion for Dr Who with my own child, say 15 years ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. It’s great that the show that gave me so much pleasure in my childhood, is now providing a connection for us in the present.

At present, he has a vivid imagination that has created a range of super heroes. At the same time, I’ve had to balance the books. But I’m not looking to tell you about his creations here.

Instead, I’ve watched the domestic disarray that two children represent. And there are a whole stack of household, less-than-super, heroes living with us. I can’t draw, so for the time being, descriptions will have to suffice. Do you have children? Perhaps that “slack” flat mate? If yes, all this may sound familiar. Here are the ones that I’ve identified to date:

The Amazing Distracto -

Distracto is a master of mischief.

Has Distracto been at your house? Lego is a tell-tale sign (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He appears at the oddest times, like when you send your son/daughter/flatmate to go clean their room. Come back X minutes later to discover the chaos that Distracto has wreaked! In my son’s case, he is “cleaning” his room, but when Distracto strikes (and you subsequently enter), you’ll find him playing with Lego or reading a graphic novel of Indiana Jones. I’ve never seen Distracto, but understand that he wears a large dark coat and his eyes, which seem to emanate out of the dark recesses of the top hat he wears (that shroud most of his features), are two spirals that swirl in opposite directions. My son says that he wants to clean his room, but when Distracto appears, he stands before him with something shiny in one of his hands. I’ve heard that in the other hand, is a picture of what he should be doing – in this case, cleaning his room. But (and here is the cunning part), Distracto  gets you to look at this… only briefly… before he hypnotises you with the other, shiny object. Once you’ve had a glimpse of that… you’re gone.

But, if you’re really unlucky, his brother…

The Amazing Destructo

will appear. I’ve not seen him. According to my son, no one really has. All he can say is that he goes in, with the firm intention of cleaning the mess in his room… then when you come along to check, it is clear that Destructo has been present. Whatever detritus may have existed before has been sent to the four winds in a Twister like Display of Destruction. Destructo is fast, furious and unpredictable. No one (including children) know when or where he will strike…

Anyway, that’s the first two for now…

Part Two (Orange Tooth, Mr Slops and Whingo) to follow!

The Virtual Desk

I’ve had an idea for the next tech gadget; I apologise if it is already on someone’s drawing board – and if it exists already, I’d love to hear about it.

It’s a virtual desk. Well, a real desk, that does some ‘e’ things…

The idea came about this morning, while working on a uni assignment. My course is all online; the readings, the university website, even uploading my assignment. At the moment, I am working on an iPad and a desktop, switching between using apps like Notability (great for virtual highlighting and note making on the PDF documents I’m viewing), to stalwart programs like Word (where I’m writing the piece itself). Along the way, I’m dropping out of the virtual realm, making notes, thoughts and doodles on paper.

It’s not entirely satisfactory though, or at least it doesn’t feel right in the sense of a tactile and functional learning process is… or even the sense of the aesthetic. And that is where the virtual desk comes in. I got the idea, in part, from the Australian Museum’s virtual display of a collection of things that bite and sting – the blue ringed octopus, ants, box jellyfish, a shark etc – that you can prod at on a large table, with projections from above, and information pops up about the type of ‘bite’ you have received from your virtual prodding. The desk senses your interaction and responds, albeit in a relatively limited fashion, accordingly (try as I might, I couldn’t find a photo for this post!)

John Underkoffler explains the human-computer interface he first designed as part of the advisory work for the film Minority Report. The system, called “g-speak”, is now real and working. Note the gloves Underkoffler is wearing. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The virtual desk would be a real desk that, when switched on, would allow you to have a Minority Report (and now I HAVE found a pic, using Zemanta, that seems to show that something approaching my desk, is on the way). But rather than having something vertical, I’m pitching for something horizontal… traditional. A desk where items, such as documents, would appear in front of you. Items that you could slide around, see at once, write on (whether that be with a stylus, like a pen or pencil) or in a way that leads to type being produced.

I would like to think that the desk could be an old one… even a leather topped one (which is something that I have never owned), or something befitting the title “bureau”. And when you’ve finished and switched it off, that majestic item retains its place in your house, rather than being another in a long line of ‘computer ware’.

Just a thought that I figured I would get down while it was in mind. Feel free to send me a pic if you have something like this at your house!

Internet Immortality?

Lighthouse beam at sunset (Photo credit: McBadger)

I’ve been a little slack of late – despite school holidays, I’ve only written one post and that was at the start of the break. However, I’ve noticed that my blog has managed to keep going on, despite my absence. Not massive numbers (it is still less than a year old) but enough to make me wonder, given enough steam, how long the thing could go on, on its own terms.I’ve written about a Post’s use by date before, as well as which Post generates the most traffic. For me, it is my 2nd Post, exploring two texts (Frankenstein and Blade Runner) we study as part of our senior school syllabus in Australia.
In some ways this is ironic – I originally wrote this as a marker’s feedback document for the final year students. Currently it stands at nearly double the next best Post’s effort (a lesson plan for a drama activity called ROBOT) at 154 to 84 views. Sure it is one of the oldest posts, but it still pops up as the one sought out the most often. Of course, this does not take into account the views to the blog itself (the home page) or the About page, both of which are way higher.

So in terms of my theme, I’m thinking of the automated lighthouse, shining out into the night long after the need for humans to reside there has ended. The light still shines out, warning ships of the danger… or perhaps it is an inverse idea – the light shines out, showing the ship at sea where the site resides.

We’ve had the idea of space junk for just over half a century… items floating about in space that have served their purpose long ago, or like the Voyager Spacecraft, have wildly surpassed their original design parameters. The internet has already seen sites where their owners have already passed away, yet the site goes on, like Voyager, into the inky future. The internet detritus can only increase dramatically in the years to come. It is kind of inspiring in one sense; that your work will go on existing, long after you’ve stopped writing… or existing. Is this our 21st Century version of immortality, where a site could go on for hundreds of years, so long as the server and hosts continue to exist. But at the same time, I am reminded of one of my favourite writers from my childhood – Ray Bradbury – and his story from the Martian Chronicles There Will Come Soft Rains. A house that continues on long after its occupants have gone. And that immortality is kind of sad in a way.

The Storytelling Group

I’ve noticed that, despite all the excitement around iPads, iPhones and laptops, classes still enjoy a good story. While doing a unit on memoirs, I told some of my Year 7s some stories from my past. I asked them when it was that their parents had stopped reading to them; for most, it was when they were about 7-8 years of age. With this in mind, and seeing the obvious pleasure that listening to a story can have, I’ve decided to start a group for storytellers that will (hopefully) meet once a month at lunch time, starting next term. At the moment it is going by the working title of the Verbatim Club… we’ll see if a better name comes up!

But for now, a story from my own past – one that I told my year 7s. A story of shame on my part and the absolute fear it brought about. Just so as you know, for politeness sake, I’ve changed one “rude” word, to ‘fortunately’… I think you’ll get the actual context… Anyway, hopefully you can settle back and enjoy this one, that dates back to my first year at high school…

In the afternoons, I would walk to Ashfield Station to get the ‘school special’ bus home. The bus would start from the station, and be filled with students from schools such as Ashfield Boys’ High (my school), Bethlehem College and De La Salle College.

This is 1976, but the same type of buses on the same route – cnr of Milton St and Liverpool Rds. Photo by Dave Wilson

Each day, once full, the bus would head down Liverpool Rd towards my home. At the same time, boys from Trinity Grammar would come running down the road towards Ashfield Station, having been dropped off at the top of the road. They would run past the parked bus en masse, in an attempt to make the train. Being private school boys, they were held in contempt by the public schools, purely on the basis of ignorance. And so, on one day, my friend dared me to spit out the window onto a boy as they went past. Being 12 or thereabouts and always up for a dare, I of course agreed. My first critical error.

And so I picked my target, a blonde haired young man who was probably about 3-4 years older than I and a good deal bigger, which, with the benefit of hindsight, was a further mistake (mind you, hindsight would have had me not doing this in the first place). He had slowed due to the press of people ahead and I tool my chance. I spat as nonchalantly as a ‘non spitter’ could do out of the window, and proceeded to make yet another error. Rather than nonchalantly closing the window, I slid it way too quickly, thus adding to my guilt. By now the boy, sensing something wrong, had stopped, put his hand up to his hair and brought it down before his eyes. His focus went from his hand, up to my window where I sat framed, and back to his hand again.

There had been the usual after school chatter on the bus at the time, but this immediately ceased as the boy, bringing his hand into a fist slammed it into the side of the bus. This was followed with his bellowing, “You are FORTUNATELY dead! Get off that FORTUNATE bus now!!”

By now I was doing my best impression of a Warner Bros cartoon, one of those ones who gets the fright of one’s life and melts down the steps. I was already making incomprehensible sounds and trying my best to slide, like water, onto the floor. Hands damp, saliva thin, heart ka-chumping away…

“You are soooo FORTUNATELY dead! I’m going to FORTUNATELY kill you!”

And I believed every word he said. I was already half-muttering, half-thinking desperate prayers. Please can the bus go… go now…. please start.

“I’m coming to FORTUNATELY get you!” he said, making his way, with steely purpose and straight resolve, around the back of the bus. My life would be over in about 45 seconds. This is where he made his critical error. In seeking to get to me directly, this shortest possible route saw him barge through large rugby boys from my own school. Or rather, saw him attempt to barge through, to which they took exception.

In those few moments while he was detained, the bus coughed into life and started off, thus sparing me. It was months before I raised the nerve to catch the school special again.

Not one of my finest moments, but one that has worked well in the telling in class.

I’ll let you know how the Storytelling group goes…

Your Digital Footprint

Ever Googled yourself? Of course you have… perhaps the question should be more specific: Have you ever Googled yourself and, by using various search tools and terms, discovered more than might pop up on the first screen of 10 items? Recently I had some Year 9 students in my mentor (tutor) group do just this. Their reactions were amusing and revealing; thinking that they knew all this, then discovering how far the rabbit hole went. Rather than coming in on the well-honed negative of “anything bad you do online will be online for life”, I came at it on a different tack. Why not see it in a positive light. Rather than warning about “screwing up on FB”, promote it as a way of setting up your digital identity. On the basis that future employers (and possibly partners?) can and will check you out, why not develop your digital character? Here are three areas and methods to help students see how far their digital footprints go:- -

• start with the basics: if in a different country to the United States, use the country suffix in the search (e.g. for Australia=.au), if a number of people share your name, use minus (-) to help remove them from the search, particularly if you can identify where they are (such as a State/County/Province or suburb), if it is different from you. Use inverted commas for some or all of the terms.
• put in past connections: one student discovered that, because he played representative water polo, there were competition results from five years ago that contained his name. He was ten at the time. What hobbies, sporting groups, memberships, clubs and the like do your students have now (or have had in the past)?
• click on images: there might not be much here worth promoting, as opposed to the likely avalanche of Facebook photos. Maybe look to suggest that developing 2-3 images as profile images (or even fewer) is a good idea. This way the ‘best side’ of you will be the one to come up at the top of the search, because how frequently it has been linked and posted to in the internet.

Then, of course, it becomes a question of setting the students up for the future. In my case, they have between 5-10 years, depending on study choices and opportunities. What this means is that there is time to develop your digital profile. I have students doing community service, volunteering with sporting groups, undertaking their Duke of Edinburgh bronze medallion courses, doing work experience. All of it counts, and, most likely, all of it will be visible for future employers and the like. Encourage the students to find ways of celebrating positive achievements, appropriately and in the right forum, online. Isn’t that a better way of looking at building students’ connections with the internet, rather than trying to fix a problem after the social disaster has occurred?

I thought for a bit about the image that I’ve used here – whether I should avoid using “me” as the example – and realised this is exactly what I’m talking about – if you’d wanted to find this out about me, Google can give you the information is 0.21 seconds. And I’m pretty happy with how my digital self appears…

World’s Weirdest Tie

A story about a tie. Note – it is critical to look at the accompanying photo!

The weirdest tie I have ever owned came about because a student many years ago took exception with my wardrobe sense. As a result of being a mercy case, I got given two ties. One is unremarkable. The other is anything but…

In case you can’t see the pic (or to add to your amusement or horror) I’ll briefly describe what’s going on:

There are two dinosaurs. At the bottom of the tie is a dinosaur, wearing clothes (including a green check shirt, a v-neck pullover and a matching brown (some might call it gold) jacket and tie). This self-respecting dinosaur (he has the belt to prove it) is dreaming of a silver dinosaur who is, by all appearances, naked. I’m guessing it is a ‘he’ by the thrust of his chin – the silver dinosaur might well be female… who knows?

I don’t wear this tie very often, but always wear it, at least once a year, when I have a new Year 7 class. Having explained how weird the tie is, I go on to get the boys to take it a step further. I ask them to imagine the scenario where there is a young tie designer, who goes in to his or her boss and says:

Hey, I know it might sound a bit weird, but stay with me here. I’m thinking of a tie… a new tie. Not just any tie! On this one, we could have, like, a dinosaur, wearing clothes… no no… stay with me here… dreaming of a silver dinosaur! Naked? Why not. Yeah, I know… it just HAS to be done!!

As you might imagine, it sparks a lot of conversation. Years ago, I read Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake. With failing memory, I might be mistaken, but I recall a moment where there was discussion that if we were to have another world war, we would never be able to recover, primarily because having destroyed all of our metals via the weapon blasts, those remaining would be so deep in the earth that they would be beyond our ability to source them.

So I wondered about this tie and I think that it has solved the riddle of the dinosaurs. The dinosaurs, far from being the slow moving and ponderous beasts of the 19th Century, or the fast, cunning creatures of the late 20th, were actually creatures of society. They developed cities and culture, to the point where they were wearing clothes at the height of their civilisation.

Unfortunately these advances came at a price – a terrible price. The dinosaurs could not escape their reptilian roots and developed devastating weapons of war. It was inevitable that the day would come, and it did. The destructive blast wiped out the last 5 million years of their culture, razing it from the historical record. Thus humanity would believe that they were only predatory beasts and plant eaters…

Fortunately, we have this tie, to help us put these pieces back today…

Thanks A.G. wherever you are. I don’t wear it often, but I still have that tie today!