In my days as a Buddhist lay person there was a scripture that was recited regularly in the monastery and meditation groups, "Lo, with the ideal comes the actual". Meaning that whatever our ideals and aspirations, reality seldom matches up to them. Our innate humanity means that, time and time again, we fall short, however much we may wish and try not too. This is certainly true in my personal life, but today I have been thinking about this within the institution that I work for.
My organisation has a vision for the future, an agenda for social change, a mission that is incontrovertible. Like most of my colleagues, these very things are what motivate and bind me to the institution. Today was a show day, an event at which various groups and departments from around the organisation came together to show off innovation and achievement. There was cake, lollipops, champagne and chocolate biscuits, plenty of posters and banners full of colour and statistics. The problem with much of it though was that the corporate jargon was so dense it was almost impossible to fathom what exactly the achievements actually were. Agile software development? For what? For whom? Leading the student journey? How?
Many of the stands represented departments that we know are struggling. An IT department that students complain about because either they cannot get through or the advice they receive is useless. An operations department that is under such strain that the workload in other places is increasing because of the mistakes that are made, everything has to be treble checked and corrected because there is no longer any certainty that it will be right first time. A marketing group that spends a small fortune on advertising and yet, by commoditising education, fails students who come unprepared. Yes, we should celebrate our successes, but we need honest discussion, we need to admit our failures, to acknowledge that there are problems and to find creative solutions to them rather than papering over the cracks with stock photo images.
Our leader came round the exhibition today, even had a word with me about the stand I was on, he is a busy man, a 1 minute pitch was all he was looking for at each stopping point. I did my best to represent our rather simple, not very corporate, initiative. What I would have liked to say was, 'look, see that stand over there, the people in that department do really good work but they are so overloaded that more and more is pushed back to us even though it is not our job. And that department over there launched a scheme to optimise computing in the organisation and has really messed up lots of people's work. The nice ladies on the stand over there are representing an organisational structure that is being systematically dismantled and the guys next to us are simply talking a lot of hot air'. But I smiled, defended my corner, and kept it short so that he could politely move on. Lo the ideal and the actual are nowhere near each other!
Tuesday 29 April 2014
Saturday 26 April 2014
What are holidays for?
There is much debate in the glearner household about where we should go on holiday this year. Both daughters have big exams this year so the plan was to take advantage of the early end to the school year to have a 'big' holiday. However, with daughter number 1 (DN1) off inter-railing and daughter number 2's (DN2) guitar exam our window of opportunity is squashed back into normal school holidays. Originally the plan was to go to visit family on the west coast of America, that was until I added up what this would cost. Rethinking it has taken us on mental journeys to Tunisia, Morocco and Turkey, but the conclusion is that this expense may not be worth it if the temperatures are so high that all attempts at cultural outings are thwarted. So, back to thinking about the States and Canada where the temperatures are more likely to be tolerable in late July.
This has got me thinking though, what are holidays for? Daughter number 2 does not like holidays, she does not deal well with the unfamiliar and does not like being outside of her comfort zone. That said, in our travels across Europe by car, she has enjoyed sight seeing and new experiences. Daughter number 1 is hungry for new experiences. She is up for riding a camel in the desert in 40 degree temperatures and thinks that the caution from other members of the family (me and her sister), is unfounded. The other reason I went off the idea of Morocco is that, having talked to friends, I could not face the debate that would be had with DN1 about her skimpy dress which is likely to attract the wrong sort of attention in that country. Husband has perpetuated the myth that I hate travelling, in contrast to his thirst for it. Of course that is not the truth, but, I am more aware of risk, like to think things through and have plans. Want to avoid the chance of being robbed (it has happened) rather than lay myself open to it.
So holidays? For me they are about seeing new places, better understanding different societies and people, enjoying the history, arts and culture of a new place, enjoying the geography and landscape. Beach holidays are really not us. I can see however that this mental model of holidays creates tremendous pressure to 'get the most from' a trip. To plan the sites that might be seen and to work out routes and schedules. If this fails, for example last year when a combination of heat and, what turned out to be, pancreatitis, meant that our trip to Italy was an impressionistic, whistlestop, tour of places on route, then it is disappointing. To have gone all the way through a new landscape and not imbibed its essence becomes a source of regret, albeit mild. I am not completely uptight about this, but I guess the desire to get the most from a holiday goes deep into my childhood roots, when we always went around the sites. With hindsight I can see that visiting old churches, as we so often did, and as I still do today, was probably born out of trying to find something historic and vaguely interesting that was free.
These days, one of the first things I do is look at web reviews of places, recommendations for places to visit and stay. In many ways this adds to the pressure. Once upon a time the most advice you could get was a printed guide (if you were lucky). I recall the halcyon days of the Rough Guide, a revelation of advice about places that would not be in more formal guides. In those days you had to just strike out, perhaps having booked one or two places ahead. Husband and I went to Peru and Bolivia like that. Just our first night in Lima booked and the rest of our accommodation found as we went. It was a great holiday. On reflection, it is the desire to protect my children, to make sure that I am not taking them into dangerous situations or leaving them without a place to eat and sleep, coupled with the ability to use the internet to plan a blow by blow itinerary, that has influenced my approach to holidays in the past 18 years. Perhaps now they are big enough to get on a train and travel across Europe on their own (even if I am fretting at home), is it time for me to rediscover a more serendipitous approach to holidays?
This has got me thinking though, what are holidays for? Daughter number 2 does not like holidays, she does not deal well with the unfamiliar and does not like being outside of her comfort zone. That said, in our travels across Europe by car, she has enjoyed sight seeing and new experiences. Daughter number 1 is hungry for new experiences. She is up for riding a camel in the desert in 40 degree temperatures and thinks that the caution from other members of the family (me and her sister), is unfounded. The other reason I went off the idea of Morocco is that, having talked to friends, I could not face the debate that would be had with DN1 about her skimpy dress which is likely to attract the wrong sort of attention in that country. Husband has perpetuated the myth that I hate travelling, in contrast to his thirst for it. Of course that is not the truth, but, I am more aware of risk, like to think things through and have plans. Want to avoid the chance of being robbed (it has happened) rather than lay myself open to it.
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| Mont Blanc glacier, seen on the way back from Italy |
These days, one of the first things I do is look at web reviews of places, recommendations for places to visit and stay. In many ways this adds to the pressure. Once upon a time the most advice you could get was a printed guide (if you were lucky). I recall the halcyon days of the Rough Guide, a revelation of advice about places that would not be in more formal guides. In those days you had to just strike out, perhaps having booked one or two places ahead. Husband and I went to Peru and Bolivia like that. Just our first night in Lima booked and the rest of our accommodation found as we went. It was a great holiday. On reflection, it is the desire to protect my children, to make sure that I am not taking them into dangerous situations or leaving them without a place to eat and sleep, coupled with the ability to use the internet to plan a blow by blow itinerary, that has influenced my approach to holidays in the past 18 years. Perhaps now they are big enough to get on a train and travel across Europe on their own (even if I am fretting at home), is it time for me to rediscover a more serendipitous approach to holidays?
Friday 25 April 2014
Time for a communal approach to growing old
Like attracts like, and I find that just as I spend much of my weekend with my elderly mother, several of my friends are in the same position. Amongst my friends there some who have children and some who don't. Those of us with children may assume that they will follow our example and take an interest in our care, but there are no guarantees. My daughters will have had 18 years care from me (at least), but can I really hold them to reciprocating this as I get older? What of my friends with no children?
Our bodies deteriorate but, if we are lucky, our faculties remain intact. In my mother's case having a lively mind but an ageing body is frustrating. She has a desire for something other than daytime television and yet a body that moves slowly and painfully, limiting what she can do. Sheltered housing is good for keeping safe, but you don't get to choose your neighbours. If you want culture or political debate this may not be forthcoming if your main points of contact are Bingo and carpet bowls.
Perhaps the answer is to create our own communities of friends, buy and adapt properties together where we can use our collective incomes to buy in staff if needed. Places where we can cook together, eat together, swop books, help one another to get out and about and yet have privacy when we need it. A large house divided into flats or a terrace of small houses, modified to create communal areas and individual dwellings. An open source approach to ageing that might take some of the pressure off the generation below. Time for the grey revolution!
Our bodies deteriorate but, if we are lucky, our faculties remain intact. In my mother's case having a lively mind but an ageing body is frustrating. She has a desire for something other than daytime television and yet a body that moves slowly and painfully, limiting what she can do. Sheltered housing is good for keeping safe, but you don't get to choose your neighbours. If you want culture or political debate this may not be forthcoming if your main points of contact are Bingo and carpet bowls.
Perhaps the answer is to create our own communities of friends, buy and adapt properties together where we can use our collective incomes to buy in staff if needed. Places where we can cook together, eat together, swop books, help one another to get out and about and yet have privacy when we need it. A large house divided into flats or a terrace of small houses, modified to create communal areas and individual dwellings. An open source approach to ageing that might take some of the pressure off the generation below. Time for the grey revolution!
Wednesday 23 April 2014
What immigrants can teach us
The British press and some of our politicians are intent on decrying immigration and blaming it for the ills of society. The image constructed of immigrants is a negative one, the portrayal of foreigners as the problem is one that needs to be turned on its head. What can we learn from immigrants?
In 2012 I was privileged to be invited to the British Citizenship ceremony of some friends from Trinidad who arrived in the village a few years ago and, from the outset, made a huge contribution to the life of the school and the community. It took them more than 3 years and £12,000 to become full British Citizen, not to mention the Citizenship test which many of us born Britons would fail. At a time when small businesses have been struggling one of the nicest florist shops I know has been started in my local town by a Lithuanian business graduate who has come looking for opportunities and found one. Waiting in queues in shops I have heard elderly people discussing how hard she works and how much of a positive contribution she makes to the town. A far cry from the negative reports in the press that rejoice in the ghettoisation of communities,whilst conveniently ignoring the tendency of ex-pat Brits in other countries to stick closely together.
In March, Kavita Puri presented a fascinating programme on Radio 4 about immigrants from India who came to the UK in the 1950s with no more than £3 in their pockets. Andrea Levy in Small Island tells the story of Jamaican immigrants coming to the UK after the war. Friends, immigrants and children of immigrants tell their stories to me. The picture is consistent. The immigrant spirit is dynamic, a willingness to endure living conditions that are far from ideal and work at jobs below their qualifications to earn enough to save. Importantly the immigrant spirit has a focus on medium and long term goals, that make putting up with problems in the short term tolerable.
Of course no-one should have to share a room with six other people, or occupy a bed in shifts. No-one should be paid such appalling wages that they have no other choice but to do this. But there is something to be taken from the willingness to endure this kind of hardship to fuel the desire to change and improve the situation. Viewing life as a series of opportunities to be identified and seized is what has taken many of those immigrants from having less than a week's wages in their pockets to being home owners, business people and successful members of society.
I grew up at a time when working class culture perceived the value of education and had visions for change, whether through learning a trade, gaining qualifications or politicisation. That was a time when, arguably, there were more diverse opportunities for employment than there are now. Before many of the major manufacturing industries in the North and Midlands were decimated in favour of a service led economy. Times are tough, and this is not to decry or deride the working classes but how might that culture of self-improvement and aspiration be rediscovered?
We should add immigration to the citizenship agenda in schools. Encourage schools to invite members of their communities to tell young people about how they got to where they are today. Whether their stories are about the careers or prosperity that they have built or the issues that drove them to leave their home countries to seek a new and better life here. Let them hear from the children of immigrants who, encouraged by the hard work of their parents have gone on to be dentists, doctors, lawyers and entrepreneurs. Let young people hear the stories of people driven from their homeland by war, prejudice or poverty. Let those stories be beacons of determination, endurance, aspiration and that encourage even those born here that change is possible, that destinies can be envisaged and forged through hard work and the support of communities. Let us use immigration to rediscover the strengths of this country and its people and silence the divisiveness of the British press.
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| Celebrating citizenship with friends |
In March, Kavita Puri presented a fascinating programme on Radio 4 about immigrants from India who came to the UK in the 1950s with no more than £3 in their pockets. Andrea Levy in Small Island tells the story of Jamaican immigrants coming to the UK after the war. Friends, immigrants and children of immigrants tell their stories to me. The picture is consistent. The immigrant spirit is dynamic, a willingness to endure living conditions that are far from ideal and work at jobs below their qualifications to earn enough to save. Importantly the immigrant spirit has a focus on medium and long term goals, that make putting up with problems in the short term tolerable.
Of course no-one should have to share a room with six other people, or occupy a bed in shifts. No-one should be paid such appalling wages that they have no other choice but to do this. But there is something to be taken from the willingness to endure this kind of hardship to fuel the desire to change and improve the situation. Viewing life as a series of opportunities to be identified and seized is what has taken many of those immigrants from having less than a week's wages in their pockets to being home owners, business people and successful members of society.
I grew up at a time when working class culture perceived the value of education and had visions for change, whether through learning a trade, gaining qualifications or politicisation. That was a time when, arguably, there were more diverse opportunities for employment than there are now. Before many of the major manufacturing industries in the North and Midlands were decimated in favour of a service led economy. Times are tough, and this is not to decry or deride the working classes but how might that culture of self-improvement and aspiration be rediscovered?
We should add immigration to the citizenship agenda in schools. Encourage schools to invite members of their communities to tell young people about how they got to where they are today. Whether their stories are about the careers or prosperity that they have built or the issues that drove them to leave their home countries to seek a new and better life here. Let them hear from the children of immigrants who, encouraged by the hard work of their parents have gone on to be dentists, doctors, lawyers and entrepreneurs. Let young people hear the stories of people driven from their homeland by war, prejudice or poverty. Let those stories be beacons of determination, endurance, aspiration and that encourage even those born here that change is possible, that destinies can be envisaged and forged through hard work and the support of communities. Let us use immigration to rediscover the strengths of this country and its people and silence the divisiveness of the British press.
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