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Week 6 – Time, Tense and Teaching Tiny Things June 17, 2010

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Captain’s Log. I had to punish one of the crew who stole a watch from another. The foolish fellow was unable to tell the difference in time zones and triggered the alarm already set on the stolen watch. I assembled the whole crew and  had them hold out their  hands. Now it’s well known that time and tense are a complicated issue. So when this rogue was the only one with a clenched fist – clearly tense – I knew I had found my time stealer. I gave him three options:  Swab the deck in 20 minutes top to bottom,  walk the plank, or simply hand the watch back. He returned the booty immediately. But as I had to make an example for the others I sent him a task that will take him the rest of the journey….but that’s between he and me..

 I observed a class today back near my old alma mater. Years of trying to find a park, worrying about late assignments, studying lines for the next play and fantasising about the cute boy in my drama class,  came flooding back.

Earlier that day, I had listened to an interview on radio with Daniel Hope, the violinist who played at the funeral of Yehudi Menuhin and who knew he would play the violin when he was just 4 years old.  In my observation class we learnt about a dancer, Steven McCrae who likewise envisaged a clear artistic path from a young age. That night I dreamt about Cate Blanchett and our local theatre. The whole day yesterday was populated by artists.

Several days earlier, my sister had pointed out I was using overtly negative language about my future and was, she suggested, not enabling the positive artistic future I yearned. She was right. If we keep focusing on the old, or saying No to the things we don’t want, we stay fixated on the old situation – we’re facing in the wrong direction and can’t see the new.

So in TESOL speak the plan for this micro life – lesson goes as follows:

Student Level: Pre adult.

Context and target language: Balance the good and bad bits of the past just enough to positively alter the direction of my  work and life

Form and Function: Give myself time to understand how care, optimism,  a sense of exploration and playing to my strengths will enable change.

Resources: Realia and memories, childhood dreams, stolen time and bold brave micro teachers.

Week 5 – Tesol and the Beatniks June 9, 2010

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Captain’s Log. The noise of the islanders’ drums went well into the night.. it has now been 30 days straight…My crew are either bewitched or drunk. Was it just the rum, the kava or the  drums that are so soporific? Can’t afford to give in…yet I want to. Strange  how enticing that rhythm is..must maintain clear head…. will beat to quarters … must ..imperative..something..or is it intonate something?  is that a word? ..the drums…oh the drums….

 We’re moving to the beat alright.

Our united band of beatnik learners struggled wearily into the night this week in order to master

•           Tonic stress
•           Rising and falling inflection
•           Cigarette–sausage- bananas emphatically described words and
•           Altering meaning through emphatic stress.

Who’d have thought promising to buy roses for imaginary partner would give us all such para-linguistic joy!  S’s  discovery that para-linguistics meant everything other than the actual language - was a great relief to all. Do P’s lollies count as a paralinguistic aid?

Still the beat goes on…

We stretched, squeezed and rounded our vowels. We exploded our consonants, and pushed the language right through the top of our, lime green and pretty pink heads, someone might have been wearing a red dress, I can’t recall.

And the beat went on…..

English as a stress-based language is notoriously difficult for new language learners to get “right”.   It was a relief to know the Windsor palace tone is not necessary! There’s no need to even drill the “R”. “Rrrrrreally?  sigh.. (I was looking forward to a good roll mid alphabet).

Note to self: purchase yet another Michael  Swan’s book  on some commonly occurring speech problems.  This Swan bloke is fast becoming my significant other.

Now we’re really moving to the beat…

Whilst the World Cup in South Africa takes over our mass media,  I realise I have my own world cup game each week, this week’s draw saw

I would change it for the world… come to think of it .. that’s exactly what we’re  trying to do..

Week 4 Tesol – Phonemes, Allophones and a couple of ‘gators June 4, 2010

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Captains log –  1000 hours First mate Lote Lost at sea:   1200 hours shock squall hit ship -mast severely damaged. Will weigh anchor at Phonemanical  Archipelago – part of the micro Melopolopoulous within the week.  Quarter Master Cote is keen to spot an illusive diphtonogator.  Cabin boy Modal ate unknown amoeba and came down with fever and shakes. Clearly an education program is required.

This week our teacher advised the honeymoon was over. Seeing as though none of the class are actually dating each other, I presume she was referring to expectations of us on this TESOL teacher training course.

We have 4 micro-teaching sessions to plan and deliver!! a phonetic alphabet to learn and the first lesson plan assignment to complete. My mind is awash and awake, and awry.

I fear that even if I can maintain private and desparate study each night - I fear it won’t be enough to stay ahead of the game.

Each week, the lesson delivers information I had not even thought of thinking about. I clearly don’t know what I don’t know.

For instance, I definitely didn’t know about elisions, allophones, plosives, and voiced consonants or the fact that most of actually say “reb meat” instead of “red meat”, or “Tea your coffee” or that yapples and woranges are the new fresh fruit.  The second lesson was as overwhelming – forms and functions in full flight, questions and auxiliaries, prepositional phrases, direction setting and map reading were all on display.

To add insult to injury, last night I dreamt that alligators were breaking into my house. To get rid of them, someone suggested I throw a book at them. I did so, and they turned tail.

But what do alligators have to do with my learning Tesol?

Sure I’m trying to toughen up, and yes, I’ve got to be thick-skinned, and yes beneath the surface of my language knowledge, lurks a monstrous threat of ignorance. But is the chance of failing phonology really cause for psychological concern?

Just in case it is – I’ve decided to twist the dream on its tail and throw myself at the books instead

Interesting links on abc radio: australia talks

Week 3 TESOL Log on Deficiencies May 26, 2010

Posted by Liz Mead in : TESOL , 1 comment so far

Captains Log – 3rd week out from port – lost sight of the Isle of Tesol, confirming we packed the right navigation charts!  Checked supplies today, Cook tells me we’re low on fresh fruit. Unless we can pull into one of the Islands, I fear the crew will come down with Scurvy.

3rd week into my TESOL (Teaching English as a second language) course, and I’m noticing – like one would notice a skin condition – my own failings in the classroom.

  1. I have an unsettling emotional reaction to negative feedback
  2. I don’t read carefully
  3. I don’t listen properly and
  4. I use information for humour, sometimes without considering the implications.

I’m getting the impression my condition is fairly skin-deep, and certainly doesn’t bode well for the course I’ve set myself – to being an effective teacher!

As soon as I had the insight it didn’t take me long to slip into my default position of “I give up! I knew I’d never be a teacher!”.

After this rigorous audit and decision making process however I take a deep breath and re-evaluate my options.

I could turn those weaknesses into strength and fix my condition with the very things I think are weaknesses. Who better to understand a learning process that one who doesn’t learn as quickly as others.

I settle on the antidote:

Lift anchor, as I have enough supplies to get back on course.

Week 2 – Tesol and the Pussycat all at sea May 25, 2010

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2nd week at Sea. 

Captain’s Log

We had a rough passage through the PPP straits: Present, Practice and Produce (aka a teaching methodology acquired as part of my TESOL training). I could see the isle of Tesol in the distance. Have taken in a lot of water, when the hull was savaged by a small coral reef of modal auxiliaries, Language Acquisition theoreum and Communicative Teaching methods.

I am to learn the structural rules around this native language of mine: verb tenses, sentence structures, participles, infinitives, gerunds, classifications, categories, types of language and to top it all – a phonetic alphabet!

One good thing about learning something you already instinctively or naturally know (with apologies to Chomsky),  is that the fear is minimised.  It’s like closing the fourth Johari window, consciously rememembering what we unconsciously already know.

At the same time – to rest my weary brain, I’m reading Lear’s biography of Beatrix Potter. She was adept at botanical illustrations, and would have made a brilliant naturalist. She chose, instead, thank God! to illustrate humanity and the natural world for children. Using the sophistication of her thought and language to unravel mysteries for “little rabbits”.

The Potter books by-passed me as a child. I read, instead,  “Breer Rabbit” by her contemporary Joel Chandler Harris, and Edward Lear’s “The Owl and Pussycat”. 

It seems my early reading was done with hindsight – for I sure need them now that I’m all at sea. 

So I close this log – still miles from the Isle of Tesol, but optimistic and hardy, stocked up with Honey, phonemes and pea green boat.

Learning from scratch – Lesson 1 TESOL May 18, 2010

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Just started at a 20 week course learning how to teach. Teach English as a second language that is.

First week had a total immersion in another language for 10 mins. Freaked me out. Great experience though, to see the huge chasm between the learner and teacher if the language is not your own. These things I gleaned:

Will use this blog as a parking space for insights about the process

If I was a milk-maid it would make sense. April 24, 2010

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I’m up before the sun.

Which is useful in my pursuit of 16 perfect sunrises but not so good for my energy levels.

The reason I’m able to capture the sunrise, is that I’m waking too early!! I’m still thrown by the daylight saving we have in Oz, and find myself waking at hours called “witching” or “sacred”  or “milking” hours.

There I am – wide awake , hanging out with my sacred witches. Wishing them to hell, and wanting mindless sleep. Trying to meditate and having no joy.

In the end, I just resign myself to the fact that my sleeping patterns are changing and it’s time to get up. Perhaps I should be living on a farm or a fishing boat. Then waking early would be useful.

The problem is,because I’m neither a fisher or milkmaid or worshipper, I’m just missing out on sleep. I’m groggy through the day and exhausted by early evening, and fall asleep also to early and so on and so on.

What happens in the witching hour is the onslaught of anxious thoughts. Anxiety about practically everything. Every decision I’ve made or failed to make the previous day. Every possible problem that may arise during the up-coming day. Every hope I’m holding and every doubt I’m wrestling to overcome,. They all come calling at the witching hour. What I’d do for a cow to milk!

I think monks and nuns start worshipping at that sacred hour, because  angel –wrestling before the sun gets up is scary and you need to direct that anxiety into some good solid chanting.

Of course, they say that this time also is the time when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. The world, punctuated by sunrises, and the other world, or after-life many believe in.

Who knows, perhaps I have to be awake to unveil or witness something -like the sun. It’s worked for cultures and religions, it won’t hurt me to be attending to the numinous for a while. I still wish I had a cow though, to keep me company.

Blondes, fun and the investment factor April 24, 2010

Posted by Liz Mead in : Into the new space , add a comment

Yikes- I’m blonde.

Am I having the adventure I should have had when I was younger? Or is it that there’s a smaller gap between grey and blonde than there is between brown and grey. And I’m having the adventure I need to have as an older woman.

But explain that to my psyche every time this new face looks back at me from the mirror.

Up until now, there’s been an unspoken contract between me and my identity.  Everything I’ve done in the past is to deny it, cover it, colour it, shield myself from it. Not now!

There’s something empowering about  colouring hair closer to the actual colour it is –aka senior grey.

It’s like meeting the person I need to be – for as long as I am here to be it.

The craziest thing is that I am making up for all those revolutionary years when I never did anything exciting – like going pink, purple, green or orange.

Living or testing the myth that blondes have more fun or more funds? Is it true? Have I invested in or placed myself in a better position to launch the next expansive phase, simply by altering  part of my visage?

One thing I am noticing is that you’re more visible when you’re blonde. Hard to explain, but if I was to compare the comments, smiles and encouragements over a single week received when I was brunette to when I was blonde, I’d have to say blonde wins hands down.

So – nothing exciting about this post except that I look completely different – now let’s see if it makes any difference to how I live.

The art of projection March 30, 2010

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue , add a comment

I have a work mate who reflects back with precision the issues I need to deal with at any one time.

For instance today she reflected my need NOT to look outside for answers. She reflected my need for patience and she reflected my pursuit of perfection – in what I contribute to the world. And she led me to think about my own thought patterns.

Now there, right there , is a no-win no brainer. We’re not meant to be perfect. The whole struggle is to cope with imperfection and change. Our thought processes change accordingly.

I’ve been depressed lately – which is a habit and a neurological reality. The co-joining of low seratonin levels, palpable fear over change were mixed in with a propensity to brace for shame. In short – a recipe for misery.

My depression manifests in tears, a great weight of grey grief and a romantic desire to end it all. So many people take that fateful step without needing to journal about it, around it or into it. They simply get on with the gig. You’ve got to admire that focus.

I’m one of those “thinkers”, “waiters” or “watchers” a procrastinator waiting for external validation or a “fix”.  Wondering if I can weather the storm without the medication. Wondering whether my triggered anxiety versus free-floating anxiety equates with a certain category of depresssion (aka not so bad, realy bad, suicidal etc etc).

Paint, they tell me. Put it all out on a canvas – objectify it, look at it, as if it’s a bug you can spit up and out. Of course if you paint, you’ll realise that all you see is not a remedy but a reminder; a permanent stain to perpetuate the misery because the painting is most likely to be badly executed. So not only miserable but also a bad painter.

Last week painters competing in the Archibald prize (a prize in OZ’s artworld for portraits) put themselves in such a situation.

Visitors get to guess the portrait the judges will pick. Walking around the gallery that night, despite sculling appropriate amounts of plonk, I felt detached with absolutely no idea of what I liked.

I picked one because it was a portrait of a star gazer, light tipped glasses, childish joy against a black canvas, peppered with colourful stars. Was it good – how would I know? It was the only one that “spoke” to me. Plus the character looked quirky. He was happy and hopeful.

When the winner was announced it wasn’t the one I’d chosen. An editorial about the judging process mentioned my choice as one the judges had considered. It also mentioned that their choices exampled how these judges could either get it “really right” or “really wrong”.

Gasp! degrees of right and wrong. Sigh was mine right or wrong? And why did I care? I’d come so far away from what I liked and wanted, I couldn’t even relax in my own choice. I was looking to a random stranger (probably a rejected portrait painter) to tell me. All the stars went out right there and then!

The feelings (whatever they are) had become so externalised and externalising I didn’t even know whether they were mine or just a random guess which, alas I got “right” or “wrong”.

In hindsight guessing is as valid as any other process. The feelings, the thoughts, the choices and the activities we are in charge of (ie our own), can and should be whatever they need to be. If, for neurological reasons they don’t feel like they’re standing on solid ground then settle for sand. Likewise accept that they will or can be right, wrong, black, white, shifting, paranoid, blue, black, depressed, resolved, resilient or blank.

What they are however is ours. Not much else to claim, might as well claim those. We’re all looking at stars, some of us are seeing them from the gutter (with apologies to Oscar).

9th house work ahead March 1, 2010

Posted by Liz Mead in : Matters Blue , add a comment

Apparently we have a higher mind.

I don’t know whether that’s true for everyone. Sometimes I’m not sure it’s true for me and I’m damn sure it’s not true for the low-life I saw being interviewed on the pseudo news show 60 minutes on the topic of stalking children online.

Although I could have turned off the show I didn’t – maybe as witness to the children – some of whom end up dead at the hands of these sick mothers.

Now, unfortunately,  I can’t forget or shake the image of this particular man. But It’s not the individual that I loathe – it’s the common man nature of them.

They are everywhere and anyone.

We spoke about one last night at a party. A random hopeless conversation about a man some of us knew who had been arrested for this same crime. A man who reminds us with waves of sickening horror, of just how close we come to evil everyday.

We have a responsibility to make sure that our own house is in order.

To that end, I’m in the process of changing the work I do. I’ve prepared all I can, and as a break I reviewed an astrological “progress” reading I had done when I was on holidays recently. A sort of QA that my choice of paid work would ultimately inform the life I’m striving to live.

A progress report means a snapshot of where the planets are placed against the planet “baggage” we carry around in our lives from the time of our birth.

For instance, my twin and I have 5 planets in the one area of the chart – the higher mind of the 9th house – which means everything we do is  to encourage consciousness, Whether it’s maintaining intellectual independence and discernment  whilst  managing relationships to ensure that integrity of purpose, meaning and direction.

It’s also about personal power.

Higher consciousness enables and requires not not giving power away. It also means not taking power off another.

We’re all potentially on a spiritual path; the path to being a better person. To be a better person we need to take responsibility for our own growth. We need to maintain our integrity and strength of life purpose.

If we become dissociated from that centre of truth – the thing that gives us meaning – we end up doing all sorts of things – like lying, stealing, hiding, bartering, bullying. Pretending the job we do is good enough. Or bluffing our way into a new job based on the money it offers or the sense of temporal status it afford us.

Separated from our centre we’ll fail to recognise the authentic choice. We’ll be stuck in the swing between stealing power from others or giving our own away.

That’s why some find themselves at the end of February 2010 trying to rescue people buried in the tossed up grounds of an earthquake and others loot supermarkets.

Poverty, crisis, child abuse, catastrophes are the stimulus, all we can actually control is our reaction.  We can’t be sure of a when an earthquake hits, or a Tsumani results. All we can be working towards is making the world better for each of us. Safe, joyous, abundant, creative and alive by the choices we make.

I would like to honour the children who are stolen before time and those in Chile who can’t be found. And wish all of us a safe year to find out what we should and could be doing right.