Tag: weekly lesson

Weekly Lesson: Mindsets for Language Learning

For study until 20th of October 2024

Subject: Mindsets for Language Learning

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

I had been studying Dutch for three months when a very predictable situation raised its ugly head. It happens over and over in language learning situations and I was in some ways expecting it. It is the nature of the beast when it comes to learning  or to put it plainly, the dark side of the human mind.

It all started when the students started to organize their own Zoom and Whatsapp groups to practice, there was nothing wrong with practicing with others but I knew the stage was being  set for something. I wasn’t the teacher in this class  but I sensed the great  machine of negativity and mental assassination was ready to be switched  on and already  subtle signs had started to appear. I knew that something was rotten in the state of Denmark. To put it another way, trouble was brewing.

Sure enough, during the practice time on zoom, I could see one student who seemed a bit uneasy, chatting more in English than in Dutch, a sure sign that a difficult English conversation was about to take place.

“I really like our teacher” she remarked “but things move a bit quick, she doesn’t really give me a lot of time for questions”. I could see her name was Samantha from the bottom of the Zoom screen.

“She’s under a lot of pressure, I commented, “she’s only been given one hour a week to teach us, she is under as much pressure as we are, besides, we are supposed to learn at home and come prepared” I quipped.

“I suppose, but she could at least let us speak more…” she responded. Heads started to nod, I could see a mindset developing.

“She is good… but…” she continued.

I could see in my mind’s eye a vortex opening before us, ready to devour us one by one but I doubted Tom Cruise was going to appear and save all of us, he was too busy making Mission Impossible movies.

 This wasn’t the first time I’ve sat in these kinds of circles and it isn’t something teacher training really prepares you for. Besides, in this class I was a student, I should’ve learnt to shut up.

“Sharon’s Dutch is very good, I mean its ok for her because she knows the stuff already, I don’t even know why she’s in our class” continued Samantha truculently as she mouthed off about another student.

“I just get the feeling she doesn’t like me” came another voice  from the room, more heads started to nod as I watched the vortex in my mind’s eye expanding, remembering that these kinds of conversations are deadly in language learning circles.

“My friend had our teacher last year, she says that she is very good but really strict and by the book” someone else chimed in. The argument started to build and I realised that I had to get the class mindset back if we were ever going to learn anything.

“You know the Dutch are very direct, it’s a cultural thing, no one is to blame for that – we just aren’t used to it, besides its only a stereotype based on accent and ways of speaking. It has nothing to do with liking you or disliking you” I reasoned.

“Well I still don’t like her” piped up another student.

In every language learning class there is always one person who has too much fluency for the class they are in and another who knows next to nothing. This immediately gets people’s backs up and creates a culture of blame when people compare themselves to each other and feel they are not learning. If these students had been kids, it would have been brushed off as one student being more intelligent than the other but when everyone is the class is mature, there is always a level of discomfort. In the minds of adults in these kinds of situations someone has to be blamed and I could see that just like a sliding puzzle everything was beginning to slip into place. Someone had to be blamed for what was regarded as a lack of progress, and in this meeting, attention was turning to the teacher.  In my career as a teacher, I had seen heads roll for this, I was well aware of the dangers of mesmerism in the classroom, opinions  can travel faster than any virus and there is no one really to blame exactly, except some bad ideas which are misplaced and personalised to make us feel better about learning.

“Well lets start by going over what we’ve learnt so far from the class” I replied, trying to get into a position of leading the class away from negativity.

Samantha at that point made an excuse that she had forgotten an appointment, and then vanished. Although I was glad to see the back of her, it was too late, she had already left her mark on all of us. Nobody in the class wanted to practice and it led into a mindset which was not ready to practice or learn. As for Samantha, well the whole point of the practice session was that she and others could participate but she eventually left the group and the course citing that “she wasn’t getting anywhere” although I doubt she realised the legacy she had left on everyone else.

I am always really fascinated by these experiences in language learning, especially how a group of well mannered students can become tribal and end up looking like they are in  a scene from the book Lord of the Flies by William Golding, tearing people to shreds given half the chance. Although the actual learning part is very individual, there are often cultures which are created by individual mindsets in places of language learning and they can become very difficult to break if left unchecked.

I stopped attending the practice group because it was a breeding ground for arrogance. At one stage they even agreed amongst themselves to try and talk to the School Head Teacher about their “problem with the teacher” who promised to investigate.

By the end of the course, there were only a handful of us left and we, including the teacher, were all left scratching our heads wondering what had happened. Worse than that, a culture has been created and future students no doubt had their comments “My friend Samantha studied here and she said…” and the culture is enabled again and the whole thing is repeated.

The key in any class is always in finding unity with others in learning, without that there is nothing. It becomes like a kingdom divided against itself. This happens not only with language students but also with teaching staff, teams in offices and wherever people are asked to work together. The way to deal with this is not to attack the person who voices it but to realise it is an opinion which is on the scene and it needs to be disarmed before it causes panic. The person and their opinion must be separated. It is important not to label the person bad and shun them, but to see the only thing at work here is a fake opinion.

My advice to any learner or team member who wants to succeed, guard your thoughts well, not only about learning but about any thoughts or opinions which are developing in the classroom. Avoid discussions about personalities and focus as much as you can on unity. If your learning is slow, have a look at what’s going on around you and make sure your mind is not caught up in any negativity. If you have a problem with the teacher, voice it immediately with the teacher  and don’t let it fester.

Weekly Lesson: The House Guest

For study until 6th of October 2024

Subject: The House Guest

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

When I heard that a friend was coming to visit for a few days, my heart sank. As a typical British man, I know that friends staying over, usually causes a lot of stress. I had no particular beef with the person himself, but I knew that a guest staying would throw a spanner into the works of my daily routine. These days, British people are not so hospitable. All of us want our “personal space” so staying at hotels usually allows us more time to do what we want instead of being tied down to particular moments such as eating with the host family etc.

Continue reading “Weekly Lesson: The House Guest”

Weekly Lesson: Killer Cows

For study until 22nd of September 2024

Subject: Killer Cows

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

Embellishment is a big part of storytelling in some parts of the UK, especially in Scotland and Ireland.  When I first heard about cows killing people I rolled my eyes.  As far as I was concerned this was another one of my Grandmother’s tall tales.

Continue reading “Weekly Lesson: Killer Cows”

Weekly Lesson: The Return to Education

For study until 8th of September 2024

Subject: The Return to Education

Audio: On usual social media platforms

Deciding to go back to study at University sounded enthralling. It brought back memories of Education when I was younger. Being part of something, a time when we all knew for sure we were loved and affirmed by forming deeper friendships.

 As I work in the Education sector, I am very aware of the changing face of teaching but this was going to be interesting. To be on the other side of the classroom for a change, not the one in front of the class. It came as a bit of a shock to find that “Campus life” was simply online.  Opening a new tab on my browser is hardly the same as bursting through the University doors wearing too much aftershave and white socks in 1987.  

My first day arrived and I was feeling intrepid. It was something of a relief to find an Internet room full of middle-aged cynical bitter looking faces staring at me. I was expecting teenagers.  Arriving into an Internet video chat is like changing a TV channel, you give it a few seconds to gauge what it’s like before you feel altogether settled and you are immediately hit with feelings but you don’t quite know what they are  yet.

I am no stranger to Internet chats, but this was one of the few times I was in a room full of native speakers – that was a bit of a game changer.  The balance of power felt different – these people had years of experience of judging others and there was no language barrier to protect me from that.  I felt like I was being X-rayed and anxiously awaiting the results. For the first time in a long time, I was vulnerable in an online learning environment.

 The song “Forever Young” by Alphaville played in my mind.  Jeez, they were more cynical than I was – this was not about having fun, for them, they were more concerned about funding.  Their online background scenery was interesting, some people lying in bed, others sitting on the sofa, some empty chairs and a few with cameras turned off. Was this really the new definition of diversity at University?

I’d forgotten how much American Psychology had crept in over the years. The Tutors had been told to tell us one exciting fact about their personal lives.  I really didn’t care who had driven a tank through a desert or who makes kitsch medieval tapestries when they aren’t out walking dogs. My mind drifted, Forever Young played in my head again as I remembered the first day of University the first time round. I was studying Theology and Philosophy back then, we should in theory have been very well behaved kids with such a serious subject but we weren’t, we were crazy maladjusted kids with a tutor who looked like a relic from the Dark ages. Riding brightly coloured cars, wearing crazy hats and listening to Elton John defined us, we were teenagers.

 I was quickly brought down to earth again with a thump when another student asked me the  question:

“Tell us something about yourself Joseph?”

“I’m an avid traveller” I quipped looking around the screen to see who was listening. Most of them were busy surfing the web – I doubt the answer even registered with them “and happily married” I quickly added. That last comment got the attention of a few people and clearly raised a few eyebrows.

“Great”, she cackled voraciously.

“My first husband was like you…. Not the happily married bit, I mean…. He travelled” while she took another puff of the cigarette and then stubbed it out in the ashtray, blowing smoke in the air…..

“What about you Sonia?” she said in a loud gritty voice moving her head around the screen to her next victim.

“Oh by the way, are all of our lectures  on Fridays?  I have the grandchildren the  rest of the week” she chortled.

 No one else seemed to care except for one woman who kept sending me private messages to help her find stuff on the Uni. website while asking questions about MS Teams. I’d forgotten how my role in group situations is always the “helper”. There to bring a bit of calm to panicking hysterical women.

“We can meet after class” I quipped – “just like last time”.  We had previously met online at the intro. sessions a few days before…. Suzanne was an interesting person, she carried an immense sense of  tragedy and didn’t have a clue about computers.  Just like the kind of women who always seem to find special places in my English classes by booking lots of packages and then self-predicting that they will never pass exams. Then there were the others who kept asking me about times of lectures. I’m not sure what bit of “its all online – there are no lectures” that they couldn’t understand.  Yes, I grappled with that as well, we just had to like it or lump it – we read, write and then submit things.  

Like it or lump it – this was indeed University for older people, fun meant going for blood tests and Covid vaccines.

 Like it or lump it was always the preferred idiom in my family growing up and it simply means “take it or leave it”.  It is one of those phrases that you can hear everywhere, especially when there is little choice in a decision which has to be made.  My mother used to say – “you are having potatoes for dinner like it or lump it… you don’t want them? Fine, you can lump it then”. (in other words, starve).

The one curious thing was how the tutors kept pleading with us to attend lectures:

“I know we are all busy but can we please try to get to lectures? You will struggle if you don’t…”

That was repeated many times and I remembered the countless times I waited for students who weren’t going to appear online for English classes.  I don’t plead anymore, I’m kind of past that stage.  

My mind drifted again and I remembered how middle aged teachers feel like parents sometimes but not with this crowd. Walking sticks, crutches and doctors appointments meant that I wasn’t about to find myself cruising through the streets in brightly coloured cars this time, this was post middle age – cruising up to the local Doctor’s surgery is as good as it gets. For some people here the best years of their lives had quickly become the last years of their lives. I was one of the youngest and as such expected to be the IT expert of the room.

 I was no longer the English teacher around here, I was the baby.

Weekly Lesson: Visiting the New Library

For study until 1st September 2024

Subject: Visiting the New Library

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

Visiting the new Library

My Town decided to move the local public library to a new purpose built  complex around a decade ago. They started work on it in 2020, suspended it because of Covid  in 2021 and finally unveiled the new building earlier this year in 2024.

Continue reading “Weekly Lesson: Visiting the New Library”

Weekly Lesson: The Shopping Mall

For study until 11 August 2024

Subject: The Shopping Mall

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

The Shopping Mall

Until the early 80s my town had a Butcher, Fishmonger, Newsagent, a really weird shop that sold only towels and a Fruit shop. By 1984 the country was gripped with a political fervour. A new breath was sweeping over the country in the early eighties with the promise of Capitalism.

Pages: Page 1, Page 2

Weekly Lesson: Competitive Sport

For study until 4 August 2024

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

We all can recount stories of our school days and in my life too there were always those awkward moments when it came to competitive sport.

Firstly, at school there were teachers who had a penchant for watching kids running round the entire school complex (approximately 5 miles) twice. The teachers were sheltered under umbrellas, wrapped up in coats, scarves and gloves while we were wearing the obligatory skimpy school uniform for sport, running in the snow. Secondly there was the procedure for selecting players and putting them into teams. The most athletic boy was of course the captain and he got to select his team. It was common practice for those of us who were more academic and less able physically, to be left on the sidelines along with the fat twins whom, of course everyone hated. There were clear winners and losers in this system and I was near the bottom of the list with my new best friends. We enjoyed watching sport, after all we were rarely selected to actually play.

That moment of calling out names for each team was the hardest because I knew I was never going to hear “Joseph, today you will be the goalkeeper”.  I felt like a prisoner in a jail when they have that mail call. As much as you kind of hoped there would be a letter there for you, you somehow knew that it wasn’t going to happen.

I don’t remember my Father ever taking me to sports matches but I do remember being taken by my Grandfather.  I could never fathom why one man wearing red boxing gloves wanted to punch the living daylights out of the other guy and more importantly why Americans referred to that time spent with children at sports matches as “quality time”. If there was anything qualitative about watching a boxing match, I never found it. It was a place full of old men who were wheezing and coughing clutching cigarettes, who seemed pleased to see bloody noses.

On Saturdays I started going to the library instead and soon discovered a clandestine group of kids who were hiding there and studying. They too were bored of “quality time” with family. We didn’t want to be called nerds but we had earned that reputation. Spending time  guessing  the names of  Capital Cities of the world seemed so much more peaceful, these kids knew the meaning of quality. It was fun learning where Moldova was and you would be surprised how relevant that is in my life these days. I also learnt how to solve the Rubik’s cube in minutes. I admit that it wasn’t exactly a crowning moment in the world of sport but it did earn me a reputation, albeit not a positive one.

Sport in 1970s UK was not about competition. It was about learning to hate each other.

George Orwell once said:

 “Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence. In other words, it is war minus the shooting.”

I never understood why they wanted to divide us and force us to compete against each other. It supposedly made us stronger but for me and many others it was a very painful time realising that we didn’t fit the mould. Groups of us found solace in books and in our own imagination, we were different. All of us children came from the same gritty economic background, our parents were all miners, iron labourers or factory workers. Some of us knew we were destined for something greater but we didn’t know what. Our parents couldn’t relate to us, they didn’t know how to win us over, kids who weren’t destined for the mines or steel works “how would they survive”?

 Not only were we different from our parents we were different from our older kin as well. My brother knew how to bounce a ball like Pele, enter an old mineshaft without getting caught and  I knew how to play the piano like Richard Clayderman or James Last. Somebody somewhere should have realised there was a problem. For kids like me this was something much deeper than choice of playground, it was something else rising, a new horizon with global promise. It felt magical but made us vulnerable, we were fish out of water, a tribe of misfits sitting alongside a pack of lions who were conditioned in a very different way, waiting to prey on anything weaker.  We avoided confrontation about hating sport, we were outnumbered. It was survival of the fittest. Yet sport was supposed to unite us, it was competitive and had shared vision, winning defeating and building character.

 I watched the Olympic Torch being carried into the Auditorium in Paris yesterday. My heart leapt at the symbology of true sportsmanship, the unity of watching the torch and all that it represents. Something which illuminates and burns away the twisted version from school and raises the standard. A standard which encompasses all people,  disabled, male, female, strong and weak and all the other dualities we have to work our way through.

I’m wondering how the newer generations work through problems like this or maybe the definition of sport itself is evolving to meet their needs. Either way, it took many years for me to find peace about it. In Arabia I found a new hobby in watching Camel racing and returning to the UK have found myself at ice hockey matches, during “quality time” with family.  A far cry from tribal football matches and sectarianism which still sends shudders up my spine.

 I think I understand these things more now than ever before and have definitely found peace about sport.

  1. What is motivating you today to study?
  2. What motivates you daily to get up and go to work – is it Habit? Money? Targets? Meeting people, burning energy, using positivity, joy level.
  3. What is your joy level today – and what raises your joy level?
  4. “My Heart Leapt” – When we think about motivation – what does it mean for you?

Life Without ID Cards

For study until 28 July 2024

Subject: Life Without ID Cards

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

This particular bank looked the same as any other, bandage coloured wallpaper, glass rooms and an assistant who looked so young that I’m sure I have food in my freezer older than her:

“Computer says no” she said, during my latest attempt to offer ID to open a bank account.  Despite my protests and assurances that I was actually British, she wanted more, one piece of photo ID and a Utility Bill from where I live, clearly showing my name and address. The first one was no problem, I have a Passport but they clearly had me over a barrel with the second bit.

I explained twice “I’ve just moved back here from Spain – I don’t have a permanent address yet” but my appeal fell on deaf ears: “When you have ID showing an address – come back to me and we will process your application – like an Electricity Bill from the last three months for example.”  was her latest way of getting rid of me. 

She was an impressive opponent, dressed in a navy coloured business suit, she meant business. Looking her over I noticed that she had more curves than a Formula One car race track and no doubt she was twice as dangerous. Her bling jewellery was a testament that poverty is not only about cash, but a state of mind. I needed a bank account and clearly she wasn’t going to budge. I was beginning to agree with my Spanish friends, how do we cope without ID cards in the UK?

I finally found an old bank account that I had forgotten about from years before – I hadn’t used it since I left the UK. I trotted along to their branch and simply told them I needed a new bank card and where to send it. Fortunately, I remembered all of my old security passwords.

Dealing with organisations without ID cards is always rough, but trying to deal with Financial Institutions is worse still and involves an endless cycle of conversations, I think that’s the same the world over.  The problem in the UK though is not only the lack of ID cards, it’s also about our legalistic approach to the world and our lack of social structure.

If I had been living with relatives, there would have been no problem I could have asked my parents to give me a letter saying I was living there. Friendships here are never large enough to encompass those kinds of favours and that left only my Brother to turn to for help. He lives around here somewhere but I haven’t spoken to him in ten years. I wasn’t about to turn up like a long lost brother just for a favour – I’d rather shoot myself with a gun.

My Grandmother used to tell me stories about how they were given ID cards during the war to buy food and as soon as it was over, they quickly burned them. Our view of democracy means that the Government cannot hold one central list of who we all are and what we look like, but no doubt there are a number of other lists they could use if they really wanted to find me. It’s not just about  ID cards, its more about how we live, how we are, the way we all seem to live in bubbles now without social interaction.

I pay a vet to come and feed my cat twice a day when I go on holiday. (I wouldn’t trust my neighbour with a stuffed toy let alone my cat and she’s not the kind of person I would associate with). Strangely, the vet (who is female) looks like me wearing a wig, I’m sure if we talk long enough she also is going to be a relative three times removed. Business is business though and she also has a huge list of ID requirements before she takes my house key.

 With ever changing politics I have no doubt that they will be forced to give us some kind of ID card in the future, but for now I need to make sure I’m ready and armed with a Passport and utility bill with my name and address, just in case I ever need it. Well old age is coming and my free concessionary travel card will do more than give me free bus rides, it will act as a beautiful piece of evidence that I live here. At least old age is good for some things.

Affirmations

Monday – People help me to grow and encourage me with English.

Who supports you most in your learning journey and what type of encouragement do they give you?

Tuesday – Learning helps me connect with others.

Who have you met on your learning journey and how have they influenced you?

Wednesday – I reach out when I need to on my learning journey.

Describe a time when you had to accept the help of another person in your journey?

Thursday – Asking for help is not a weakness.

Describe a time when you felt insecure about an English problem you had. What did you do? Did asking for help come naturally?

Friday – Learning English is truly satisfying.

Do you believe this? If not, take a moment to think about why.

Weekly Lesson: My Mate Karim

For study until 21 July 2024

Subject: My Mate Karim

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

Sometimes I forget how diverse British culture is because I just go with the flow. I don’t really have any hard and fast views of what a British man is supposed to look or act like.

So when my mate Karim appeared one night back in 2006 telling me his mother finally found someone for him to marry, it didn’t come as any great shock. We came from different backgrounds but we simply didn’t care. We were very good friends.

He started by telling me how he was a little bit nervous about his forthcoming marriage. He had agreed that his parents would find a bride and that the wedding  would take place in the town where his grandparents had immigrated to the UK from, back in the 1960s.  

“We are like chalk and cheese” he said referring to himself and his future wife. Then  he told me his great idea:

 “Why don’t we fly to Pakistan together and you can get married too?” he suggested.

I could see he had a look of desperation in his eyes. He didn’t want to face this alone.

“Thanks” I replied…

 “but  that’s not really workable for me”.   and nervously laughed at what I hoped was a joke.

I had seen that look before, I always thought of it as the kind of look a deer gets before it gets struck by a car in the middle of the night.

 “It really is game over” he continued.

 Karim was just as British as I am and culturally he pushed himself to enjoy everything he could, a sportsman, popular with the ladies and one of these guys who always had a friend, cousin or uncle who was ready to offer any kind of “deal” that you might be after.

I’ve had enough British Born Pakistani friends in my life to know that there was no way out of this for him and he had been preparing for this moment for some months. He considered himself lucky that he knew the girl, it was one of his cousins. Although I could never really figure out how they were related, they were cousins but 5 times removed and he barely knew her.

I considered Karim to be very fortunate because he walked between two worlds, which left his mind open in a way few people reach. By day he was very much living up to his parent’s high expectations of Islamic South East Asian living and by night he was the disco king, with a childlike determination to achieve everything Western living could offer until 1am most weekends. He was able to merge the two ways of life without going insane and without the usual crutches young white men rely on, drugs and alcohol. Mixing with Karim introduced me to a lot of places and people where alcohol was not at the forefront of people’s minds. 

I had almost the same conversation with my Chinese friend, although he came to Britain in the 1990s to study and eventually stayed. There was a moment when his parents simply advised “it was time to marry” and he went scurrying off to China. He also maintained that look of fear which he tried to hide behind a kind of masculine persona.

Karim had certain qualities that I never found in my own peer group, loyalty, friendship, brotherliness and in many ways he was more of a Brother to me than my own brother was. I often wished I was half the man he was, yet he faced discrimination, judgement, intense expectations from his kin and from the society that we live in. The difference between his life and mine was that he came from a community, a network of people who loved and supported him yet he wanted to be independent. Like most British people I was taught not to expect help from people and to make the best of what I can achieve alone.  I had independence but was seeking community.

I was invited to his British wedding celebration, he arrived on a white horse dressed in Indian Clothes with photographers, surrounded by his family and I was reminded again how different culturally we are. His wedding had 300 people, in contrast, at my wedding there were 4, me, my other half and two witnesses and even one of them I didn’t know personally.  My parents had long since passed away and there was no one else in the family I keep in touch with. In his words “Arranged Marriage isn’t that bad – you just fight for six months then you learn to live with each other”.

Karim moved to the Emirates, I moved to Spain and we kind of found what we wanted – some sense of knowing more about who we are. To be British was to be a Global Citizen in the 1990s, but by today’s standards I’m not sure that’s the message the next generation are receiving. With Borders closing, Brexit, crimes rising and attitudes changing, Karim says he was right to move to raise his family in a place where he knows they will be in a diverse atmosphere. After all, diversity is the one true thing we all have in common.

As extreme political views ebb closer to the front in Politics the gap between those of us who want a diverse mixed culture and those of us who don’t is widening. There’s obviously  people who feel that being British means something else – maybe Karim, my Chinese friend and many others never got that Email.

(Never got that Email in this case simply means “were not aware”)

Affirmations

Monday – My English keeps getting better.

Do you truly believe that statement? If not, why not.

Tuesday – My efforts are paying off.

What are you doing differently from when you first started studying English? How long did it take before you saw results. Why was there a delay?

Wednesday – Others are amazed at how quickly I learn.

Being honest…. how long did it take you to get to this point? Why was that?

Thursday – I love learning English.

Did you hesitate when you read this? Why do you think you don’t love it?

Friday – English is becoming more natural daily

What progress are you measuring?

Weekly Lesson: Government Housing-Friend or Foe?

For study until 14 July 2024

Subject: Government Housing-Friend or Foe?

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

The UK was a very industrial place until Margaret Thatcher came on the scene in the 1980s. For many people up until that time the daily grind involved working shifts in the local factory. In my case, my whole family worked in the local steel factory, that included my Father, Grandfather, Great Grandfather and even my Great Great Grandfather until he was fired for promoting Trade Unions in the early 1900s. Meanwhile the women were working (where there were not enough men) in the local thread mills, which offered  lighter work.

In the early days, going back to the 1840s my family lived in small cottages which were only big enough to hold a handful of people. Like most people of their day they raised between ten to fifteen children. By the time the 1920s came, slums had developed, there was no running water, no indoor sanitation and “rows” of houses were built around the steel work factory with simply two rooms and running water with outside toilets. In the 1930s the Government realised there were issues with sanitation and started to build housing estates known as “housing schemes” or “council estates” which they could rent to employees of local factories. This marked the beginning of organised housing – built around towns which were themselves formed to support local industry.

Moving forward 100 years to 2024, the Northern part of the UK is dominated by these estates and the Government remains one of the largest property owners. In Scotland the Government owns a quarter of all total rentable accommodation. I remember visiting my Grandparents in the 1980s and both my maternal and paternal Grandparents were happily living on Council Estates. The towns where they lived had three Council Estates. They knew all of the neighbours, people who were economically the same and were either friends or relatives. These estates tended to be full of old hardened women who clearly had battled their way into old age whose families had left home years before. In many ways they were the matriarchs of these estates, knowing exactly what “buttons to press” to ensure the Government took action when they need a repair to their homes or have someone forcibly removed. It felt strange because the people were poorer compared to today yet they were incredibly proud.

In the North of the UK today, renting an apartment or house from the Government is considered perfectly normal and accessible for everyone (because there’s little choice) whereas in the South where there was less industry and more education, fewer of these estates exist.

Since the Government owns a lot of property, they are also one of the largest employers in Scotland and Northern England. Plumbers, Electricians, maintenance people, office staff and housing managers are all required. As you would expect from the Government, the salary isn’t great even though the working conditions are better than the private sector, so they generally attract unskilled workers who are happy with a lower pay. This is a very attractive option for boys who do not want to enter further education, many of whom grew up and live on Council Estates themselves.

Things are slowly changing. The local Government here has started to demolish some of these old homes in order to build new ones for residents. The combination of an ageing population as well as houses no longer meeting basic standards of living such as energy saving and noise pollution means that they need to look at how they provide accommodation. Some of these estates historically had very bad reputations and needed to be demolished as well owing to their high crime rates and social problems.

Since the 1990s the Local Government has been proactively demolishing and rebuilding, making these properties safer to live in. Selling the ground to property developers also means many Council estates are surrounded by luxury privately owned property developments, which creates a kind of a hydrid, displacing the cold sting of poverty associated with these estates in the past.

Unlike today where we can define “home” as a mental construct, a structure of Love and Family, a place of peace we can choose to reside in, in the old days home and house was all about physicality, bricks and stone.

As the metaverse or holographic universe comes upon us, we will once again be asked to redefine dwellings as an ethereal space. The jury is out on what exactly the future will look like but it will likely offer us personal and communal spaces to live together.

_______________________________________________

Affirmations

Monday – There is a place for me in the Learning Community

Compare how learning alone compares to your experience of being in School with others. What is your learning tribe or community?

Tuesday – I can Learn at any age or point of life

Why do you think age is a barrier for some people?

Wednesday – I am flexible enough to make change

Why do we lose our mental elasticity as we get older? How do we stop that process?

Thursday – I choose to learn today because it brings me joy

What other healthy choices do you make daily to support your learning and your mental health?

Friday – I speak English and it gets better every day

How do you measure your progress? If you do not measure your progress, make a mental note to ask your teacher for ways to do this.

Free Entry to Museums and Galleries

Weekly Lesson – for study until Sunday the 9th of June

Audio – Available on all usual social media

Subject: Free Entry to Museums and Galleries, by Teacher Joseph

1.The Universal Access Scheme which granted free access to all Government Sponsored Museums, Art Galleries and some places of national interest in the UK began in December 2001.  This was known as a DCMS Scheme since the Government department responsible for these places is currently called the Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS). Research claims that free entry to these places are key motivators for tourists visiting the UK. By removing entrance fees to these places, everyone, including tourists has free access to a type of Education which only the Arts and a dialogue about living history can bring.

Continue reading “Free Entry to Museums and Galleries”