Reading the Examiner

THIS POST WAS ORIGINALLY MADE ON MY OPEN UNIVERSITY STUDY JOURNAL, BUT I THINK IT'S MORE AT HOME HERE.

Since my school days, a particular phenomenon has bugged me about exams.

Those who set them are often very sloppy with language. Now I reserve the right to type how I bloody like on this blog. And if my meaning isn't clear when the milkman is reading the note I left, then it's only me that suffers. But a person setting exam questions (not to mention writing textbooks or teaching) has an undeniable duty to do so clearly and properly. To underestimate the consequences of poor written English in these circumstances is dereliction of duty.

I've lost count of the number of times I've answered a written question only to be marked down for not reading the mind of the illiterate and careless buffoon who wrote it. More recently, I've become very frustrated at a sub-phenomenon where asking a teacher to clarify the meaning of a question doesn't help. All too often they will either (i) look at you like you're raving mad; (ii) simply tell you what to write, rather than explain the meaning of the question; (iii) glibly rattle off the wrong meaning, as if any other would be unthinkable or (iv) answer some altogether different query - presumably one they'd rather have been asked!

All of which leads to the saddest part of all: Distrust.

Nowadays I read all instructions (whether on an exam paper or Pot Noodle lid) with a deep suspicion which, frankly, nobody seems to wish to allay.

For example, here's some text from M150 TMA 03:

"You can complete all the parts of this question using only features of JavaScript that you learned about in Unit 7."

Firstly, here's the only logical interpretation of this statement:

"Restricting yourself to using Javascript features learned in Unit 7 while answering this question is permitted ."

This is obvious Greg! Where the hell are you going with this?

Well, it may well be obvious to you. Strictly speaking, it's obvious to me as well... except for the distrust I mentioned above. You see, there's a frightening and all-too-probable possibility. (I say "frightening" because this is a degree we're working towards, and it's not cheap in terms of effort, time or money. Losing marks because I'm an idiot is just life; losing them because the people entrusted with the job of testing me are idiots is another thing entirely!)

It's possible, even likely, that the person writing the instructions for TMA 03 actually meant

"You must answer this question using only those aspects of Javascript you learned in Unit 7."


And here's the kicker: IT MATTERS!

If the second interpretation carries the meaning the examiner actually intended, then PEOPLE STAND TO LOSE MARKS FOR DEVIATING FROM AN INSTRUCTION THEY NEVER ACTUALLY RECEIVED.

And now I'll explain why this is the saddest part...

Despite the paranoia I've developed after many years' experience with academia of all levels, it's just possible that the written instructions for M150 TMA 03 are absolutely fine.

I may be fretting about nothing.

But there's no way of really and truly knowing before it's actually too late. That's why it's sad.

The reason your life is dog shit

You could pretty much substitute any easily-knocked group: Single mums, christians, muslims, and so on.

All Changed

Today I got the course materials for T175 "Networked Living: exploring information and communication technologies."

"But what of art?" I hear you cry. "What of literature?"

Good questions, both. For a long time (taking me dangerously close to the registration cut-off date) I was ambivalent about the two degrees on my shortlist. Both the Literature-cum-Classics Open Degree I had invented and the B44 Computing and Design Bsc would both be very much in line with my interests and abilities.

I desperately wanted to do both of them.

Two factors helped me reach my decision: (i) An ICT qualification probably holds the better promise of improving my career. (ii) I have been fucking about for up to ten hours a day with, variously, programing, photo editing/trickery, graphic design, CAD, games, CGI, Web design and computer-pimping since the early '80s; I have been making pretentious allusions to literature and complaining about the death of proper English for a number of years, but could not claim to have put in the solid man-hours I have with computers. This isn't about being "experienced" or "qualified" by the way: It's recognising the Toad of Toad Hall in me. I'm honest enough to admit that I may simply, in the words of Rob Newman's Jarvis, "grow weary" with studying, and my quarter-century devotion to all things beeping gives me hope that this is slightly less likely with B44!

My first year will also involve M150 "Data, Information and Something Else." These might be Famous Last Words, but the material I've looked at so far is very Janet and John.

Look at John using his computer. It won't print!

"I've installed the drivers," he tells Janet. "I've set the default printer and assigned its port."

Janet smiles and asks whether John has switched on the printer's power supply. John is embarrassed. "Haven't you got some dolls you could be having a tea-party with?" he demands sulkily.

Actually, I'm being unfair. But only a little bit.

The course materials are beatiful, glossy and neatly set out. Sadly, there is a whole load of different booklets, brochures, letters, checklists and timetables. Some of these I had to download from the OU Web site, and only found after determined ferreting. If I had a proper critisism of the whole thing so far, it would be that the material won't lie down and let me look through it in a linear fashion. It keeps cross-referencing itself.

To be fair, the T175 stuff is slightly less guilty in this regard. But it makes up for this with a fun approach to textbook nomenclature. Today I received two books, called "Block 1, parts 1-3" and "Block 2, part 3" respectively, which rather invites the question "Where the fuck are parts 1 and 2 of Block 2?"

Perhaps this is a test, like not giving SAS wanabees directions from Hereford station to the barracks. Or perhaps it's an OU cock up. Or perhaps it's all explained in the letter from the chair, which I haven't (bothered to) read in case it whinges about the coins, crumbs and TV remotes.

I'm a 3DS Max man by habit, but was was still delighted to find a short video about Maya on the T175 DVD. I suppose it was hopelessly optimistic of me to check the DVD for Maya itself. However, I nipped off to the Autodesk Web site and downloaded the student version. It's free and allegedly identical to the commercial release, except that it superimposes "FREELOADER" on exported videos. Which is fair enough.

I've made very fleeting contact with a couple of tutors and students on the M150 forum using the FirstClass client. At first I intended to stick to the Web version, but thought: No, let's do everything by the book. Big mistake: The configuration instructions were wank. Sorted it out by trial-and-error. I'm not sure why they ask us not to tick the auto-sign-on box. It can hardly be to save bandwidth, as you're hardly likely to start FirstClass and not want to login. Or are you? Anyway, I got the most important thing figured out: Changing the little icon on posts!

This is the one I'm going to try to "adopt" and make my own:
I put three to give me an excuse to quote Jupiter Jones, but I think I'll just leave you wondering who the Hell Jupiter Jones is.

Time is the fire in which we burn

Well, two weeks of precious paternity leave have gone in a flash. Our lovely new little boy is fit and well, but I feel that I have not made the most of this fortnight.

Dirk doesn't seem to be in the least put out by Jasper's appearance. However he might get a bit of a shock when I'm back at work tomorrow. He and Jasper will have to share one parent all day.

Elaine has recovered amazingly, yet again. She says she's tired, but apart from that she seems a picture of health. Not only that, but I keep doing a "double-take" as she's looking even more beautiful than ever. I've heard of women blooming during pregnancy, but she seems to be doing it all over again after the birth!

Connor is, well, Connor. Ask him how he is and he'll say "fine" almost before you've finished. Try it. I think he is afraid of being a bit pushed out. This isn't helped by the fact that he has to sleep on the sofa at the moment. The flat needed a major going-over in the lead-up to Jasper's arrival. In all the tidying, Connor's room became a bit of a holding area which has yet to be cleared.

And me? Well, after wasting three (count 'em!) days writing a stroppy letter to Royal Mail I had to then squander more of my paternity leave rooting through the Open University prospectus. I had promised myself that I would get this done.

A quite liked the look of a computing and design course which promised to address problems like ATMs that only tell you they've got no cash after you've fucked about entering your PIN and navigating loads of menus. But I think I'm gradually coming down on the side of something more artistic, yet practical. It's a so-called "open degree" (with honours) which is the OU equivalent of the salad counter at Pizzaland.

The modules I'm looking at are:

L1: Start writing plays (A176) 10 points

L1: Start writing fiction (A174) 10 points

L1: Start writing poetry (A175) 10 points

L2: Reading classical Latin (A297) 30 points

L2: Approaching Literature (A210) 60 points

L2: Creative writing (A215) * 60 points

L3: 20th Century literature (A300) * 60 points

L3: English Grammar in context (E303) 60 points

L3: The art of English (E301) 60 points

Now this might look a touch Media Studies, but hear me out: Subject to confirmation by the OU, I believe this particular combination, while doing no harm to my aspirations to authorship (apart from taking up the time I might otherwise spend actually writing my great 21st Century novel) is entirely compatible with a post-graduate certificate in teaching. In other words, as well as becoming (ahem!) a "qualified author," I might be able to realise another dream: Helping a very tiny number of youngsters through the ravages of our education system. Oh, and union propaganda notwithstanding, teachers earn a SHIT-load more money than I do at the moment.

But this brings me back to the bairns. It is my avowed intent to put in the time and effort required by this course. Then, God willing, use my degree to improve my working life and income. Then stop. Many years ago I bought (for reasons which may occur to those who know me) a book called The Sixty Minute Father. Despite it's chummy style and brevity it moved me as much as any book ever has. One particular passage is etched forever on my mind: "NOBODY WAS EVER HEARD TO SAY, ON THEIR DEATH BED, "I WISH I'D SPENT MORE TIME AT THE OFFICE."

I have been conscious of that fact every time I've clocked on since first reading that. I am going to get my head down for sixteen hours a week, nine months a year, for the next six years. Then I'll reap the rewards of that work by settling in a job which is modest but better-paid and more rewarding than any I've yet had.

And spend every possible second with my family.

Starting as I mean to go on

My second son was born yesterday. I've been not getting around to posting here for months, so this seems like as good a time as any to start.



My sister Sarah babysat Number 1 Son while Elaine was under the knife and I was spectating. Sarah bought (and indeed brought) gifts for the family. This was mine:



...and my sisters would have you believe that I'm the weird one!

The new baby is named Jasper. It is true that I had hoped for a girl this time. But it doesn't follow that I actively didn't want a boy. Jasper is fantastic and I wouldn't swap him for the whole world.

There's a fireworks display in the park down the road this evening. Dirk ran into the room gibbering when they began. But when I held him up to watch from the window, he got quite into it all.