Tuesday, February 15, 2005
February Break
February break. My colleagues have raced off to foreign parts for the week - Eastern Europe, Italy, North Africa, Sweden, and the 'States. We've elected to stay in the UK, sleep and eat when we want and plan our days one day at a time.
I don't usually find it very relaxing to travel. If you're visiting friends, you have to keep to their hours. You worry about being in the way. Both guest and host participate in a complicated dance, negotiating how each minute of the day is to be played. If you're staying in hotels, you feel pressed to get the most out of your trip by visiting every museum, cathedral, souvenir shop, and historic building in the area. You eat strange things and overindulge at the table and the bar. That's not my idea of a relaxing holiday.
I have a friend in the 'States, a former high school classmate, who has a yacht which he sails from California to Mexico. That's the perfect way to go - take your home with you!
I DO enjoy the adventure of visiting new places, but I know in advance that it will not be relaxing. You have to gear up for it and the purpose of the trip is entirely different. (This from someone who took a Greyhound from El Paso to Mexico City and spent six weeks of Peace Corps training in Afghanistan.) I think Easter might be a better time to set out on a mini-adventure. Spring will have truly arrived and the light will be different.
After months of short grey days and long dark nights, of going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark, February break is for recharging the batteries. Tomorrow, we head off on a three-hour drive to visit friends who run a Bed and Breakfast in Norfolk, East Anglia. It's not like being a guest; it's like going to Grandmother's house.
I'm not sure that they would appreciate the analogy, but it reflects the welcome we receive when visiting them. Their 16th century thatched farmhouse is decorated with warm colours, plump, comfortable furnishings, Persian rugs, and dozens of ticking clocks which chime at different times. In the huge, farmhouse kitchen, they create multi-course gourmet meals. The days are filled with quiet times for reading, easy conversation, walking the dog in the woods and occasional excursions into the local market town. In the evenings, we linger over a late supper, good wine and good company with the fireplace crackling in the background.
This is rural England. The nights are pitch black. There are no streetlights, so if you're visiting the neighbours, you need to carry a torch (flashlight). Unlike where we live in Surrey, there is no light pollution from nearby towns. On a clear night, you can see the whole dome of stars. During the summer, the garden can be enjoyed until at least ten o'clock without lanterns or candles. The restful sound of water from the two fountains trickles over the stones. There is traffic, but nothing like the constant roar of the M25 which we hear day and night from our house.
Lots of schoolwork to do before we go back on Monday, but I'm looking forward to this mini rural retreat. Our friends have just returned from a six-week trip around the world - Dubai, Thailand, New Zealand, Easter Island, Ecuador, The Galapagos, and Florida. We'll enjoy hearing about it and be grateful that they, not we, made the journey. Thankfully, they don't think of us as guests; we're family and it'll be good to be home.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Twelfth Night
“Twelfth Night”. The name conjures up Shakespeare’s comedic love story of twins, cross-dressing and mistaken identities or the traditional Christmas song, “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. Maybe “conjures” is the appropriate word here, for Twelfth Night is when the traditional Wassailing ceremony is performed. According to the pre-Gregorian calendar, this took place on the 17th of January. It has strong links with Britain’s pagan past.
For some, it’s just an excuse to drink strong cider, but for others it’s an opportunity to welcome the near end of year through time-honoured ritual. Traditionally, this ceremony takes place in an apple orchard, the apple representing fertility, spring, new beginnings, etc. Today, Wassailing is still practised in parts of the West Country - Dorset, Somerset, Devon, Cornwall, and Wiltshire.
I was privileged to attend a Wassailing ceremony last year around this time while visiting a friend who has retired to Wells, a cathedral town near Bath, Bristol and Glastonbury. The middle-class suburban home of our hosts was filled with the smells of good food and hot, spiced cider. Arriving guests were offered a choice of drinks and we chatted with interesting folks from all over the UK. Some had downsized or retired and moved to the West Country from larger cities. Some were professionals who still commuted to Bath or Bristol. Others worked from home or locally as artists, computer programmers, teachers, chefs, etc.
A while later, everyone gathered in the front yard where a tree had been decorated with apples and a “robin”. Our host and hostess appeared dressed as the Wassail King and Queen in masks and a robes. The tree was hung with a piece of bread and cider was poured on the roots as a kind of offering. We recited poetry asking for a good harvest in the coming year. Bad spirits were chased away by firing cap guns into the branches, and by whirling noisemakers and blowing horns. The Wassail bowl, traditionally made of wood and filled with spiced cider was passed around the circle of friends. Finally, the bundle of ash faggots was lit. The embers would be used to light the fire in the coming year. Afterwards, everyone moved indoors to eat. drink, talk and listen to music.
I was struck by a number of things. One, that we were made to feel welcome without prejudice. My friend, another transplanted American, has been accepted into the community through friends in the area. As her friend, I was welcomed, too. I think that I was most surprised at how publicly people practice old rituals.
Britain is officially an Anglican country, but religious tolerance is far more prevalent here than in the US. Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Wicca, and Druidry are recognised and openly practised along side the various Judaeo-Christian beliefs. Each year at the summer solstice, Stonehenge, which is normally closed off by ropes, is opened to pagans who celebrate the longest day of the year.
Those who live in the country seem much more connected to the cycles of nature and the abundance of earth. In fact, they seem more connected to each other as well. The Wassailing festival is a lovely way to mark the natural cycles of our calendar, celebrating with friends. Much better than tearing off the pieces of paper labelled January, February, March, etc.
For some, it’s just an excuse to drink strong cider, but for others it’s an opportunity to welcome the near end of year through time-honoured ritual. Traditionally, this ceremony takes place in an apple orchard, the apple representing fertility, spring, new beginnings, etc. Today, Wassailing is still practised in parts of the West Country - Dorset, Somerset, Devon, Cornwall, and Wiltshire.
I was privileged to attend a Wassailing ceremony last year around this time while visiting a friend who has retired to Wells, a cathedral town near Bath, Bristol and Glastonbury. The middle-class suburban home of our hosts was filled with the smells of good food and hot, spiced cider. Arriving guests were offered a choice of drinks and we chatted with interesting folks from all over the UK. Some had downsized or retired and moved to the West Country from larger cities. Some were professionals who still commuted to Bath or Bristol. Others worked from home or locally as artists, computer programmers, teachers, chefs, etc.
A while later, everyone gathered in the front yard where a tree had been decorated with apples and a “robin”. Our host and hostess appeared dressed as the Wassail King and Queen in masks and a robes. The tree was hung with a piece of bread and cider was poured on the roots as a kind of offering. We recited poetry asking for a good harvest in the coming year. Bad spirits were chased away by firing cap guns into the branches, and by whirling noisemakers and blowing horns. The Wassail bowl, traditionally made of wood and filled with spiced cider was passed around the circle of friends. Finally, the bundle of ash faggots was lit. The embers would be used to light the fire in the coming year. Afterwards, everyone moved indoors to eat. drink, talk and listen to music.
I was struck by a number of things. One, that we were made to feel welcome without prejudice. My friend, another transplanted American, has been accepted into the community through friends in the area. As her friend, I was welcomed, too. I think that I was most surprised at how publicly people practice old rituals.
Britain is officially an Anglican country, but religious tolerance is far more prevalent here than in the US. Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Wicca, and Druidry are recognised and openly practised along side the various Judaeo-Christian beliefs. Each year at the summer solstice, Stonehenge, which is normally closed off by ropes, is opened to pagans who celebrate the longest day of the year.
Those who live in the country seem much more connected to the cycles of nature and the abundance of earth. In fact, they seem more connected to each other as well. The Wassailing festival is a lovely way to mark the natural cycles of our calendar, celebrating with friends. Much better than tearing off the pieces of paper labelled January, February, March, etc.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Modern Addictions
Our skybox died on Thursday. It had been sick for some time, but it finally bit the dust after a lengthy, but irregular illness of screeching and frozen pixels. I’m not a slave to it, but there are some programs which would be unavailable through the terrestrial channels. (There are only five in the UK.) The repairman arrived at ten AM Sunday morning.
I have a few shows which I tape regularly and watch at my convenience, fast forwarding through the ads. The new season of our pics has just started - 24, Nip Tuck, CSI (all three), Cold Case, and some new American series about medical emergencies, very much like CSI. The characters are well-developed and unpredictable, the plots varied and interesting.
Could I live without the TV? Yes, definitely. But I do need to know what’s going on in the world. BBC Radio Four is fantastic. I’ve listened to books which I would never have read. They interview authors, produce radio plays, comedy shows, in-depth, serious news programs. They discuss WORLD news, not just what’s going on within the UK or the US. And they present different perspectives, a refreshing idea.
I talked with my sister today. She has no TV reception where she lives in rural Pennsylvania. There’s no antenna, so she relies on videos, DVDs and the internet for entertainment and contact with the outside world. She has my old Apple iBook, the blue clam-shaped one. Now she’s hooked on the internet. Just like the rest of us.
TV, I could live without. Radio, I wouldn’t want to. But without the internet, I would be lost. We’ve been discussing going to Norfolk, Spain or France for a week this summer to rent a cottage for a week or more. The dilemma is that we’d most likely have no internet access. Intellectually, I know it’s ridiculous to allow that to be a factor, but it is. We haven’t reached the stage where we log on to the internet through our cell phones. Is that what the future holds?
Looks like we’ll be doing day trips around Surrey and Kent instead of jetting off to Europe. Meanwhile, 24’s about to start. Time to log off....
I have a few shows which I tape regularly and watch at my convenience, fast forwarding through the ads. The new season of our pics has just started - 24, Nip Tuck, CSI (all three), Cold Case, and some new American series about medical emergencies, very much like CSI. The characters are well-developed and unpredictable, the plots varied and interesting.
Could I live without the TV? Yes, definitely. But I do need to know what’s going on in the world. BBC Radio Four is fantastic. I’ve listened to books which I would never have read. They interview authors, produce radio plays, comedy shows, in-depth, serious news programs. They discuss WORLD news, not just what’s going on within the UK or the US. And they present different perspectives, a refreshing idea.
I talked with my sister today. She has no TV reception where she lives in rural Pennsylvania. There’s no antenna, so she relies on videos, DVDs and the internet for entertainment and contact with the outside world. She has my old Apple iBook, the blue clam-shaped one. Now she’s hooked on the internet. Just like the rest of us.
TV, I could live without. Radio, I wouldn’t want to. But without the internet, I would be lost. We’ve been discussing going to Norfolk, Spain or France for a week this summer to rent a cottage for a week or more. The dilemma is that we’d most likely have no internet access. Intellectually, I know it’s ridiculous to allow that to be a factor, but it is. We haven’t reached the stage where we log on to the internet through our cell phones. Is that what the future holds?
Looks like we’ll be doing day trips around Surrey and Kent instead of jetting off to Europe. Meanwhile, 24’s about to start. Time to log off....
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Separated by a Common Language
When I meet people here for the first time, they usually ask if I'm on holiday. My response is that I've lived here for about twenty years. The next predictable comment is something about how I haven't lost my American accent. I think I lost the Upstate New York nasal twang before I even left the 'States. Teaching English as a second language made me extremely conscious of my grammar, how fast I spoke and my regional accent. I spoke more clearly, slowed down, carefully chose or paraphrased and made an effort to speak through my mouth, not my nose. I was already ready for change.
If you want to fit into a culture, you consciously or unconsciously mimic the natives. (Guess I was successful when I lived in Germany; people used to stop and ask me for directions all the time!) Over the years, I've become bi-dialectal. That is, I understand both American and British. Unfortunately, many of our ex-pats have so little contact with real British people that they never learn the subtle differences. As someone said, we are divided by a common language.
Visiting tourists and unassimilated ex-pats stand out for many reasons, but in particular due to their lack of familiarity with British English. Busses are the ones used for local journeys only, including the double-deckers. Coaches are for long journeys. They’re usually bigger and have a toilet on board. That’s another difference. Americans seem somehow embarrassed to use the word toilet, the proper term for its use. Instead, we resort to euphemisms such as bathroom or rest room. (WC (water closet) is rarely used here any more.) If you go into a department store and ask for pants, you will be directed to the underwear department. Trousers are a kind of dress slacks worn by men. The British go on holiday, not vacation. At fast-food restaurants, you might order a side of chips, not fries. Crisps are thin, crispy fried potatoes in a bag which come in all kinds of flavours, including bacon, Worcester sauce, curry, cheese and onion, or beef. If you are travelling around greater London, you might take the underground or the tube. A subway is a tunnel for pedestrians to use instead of waiting for a light to change to cross the road. Calling someone implies shouting. Here, you say, "I’ll ring you tomorrow.” A substitute teacher is called a supply teacher. Q-tips are ear buds. To get your car inspected, you have to pass an MOT. You write with a Biro instead of a ball-point pen. A multilane, divided highway is known as the motorway, not a thruway. All numbered motorways have an M in front of the name: the M40, the M25, etc. Lesser roads are known as A-roads or B-roads. The word cottage implies something out of “Hansel and Gretel” to an American, but a cottage in the UK could be anything from a four-room terraced house (attached to the neighbouring building) to a four-bedroom country home. British homes may have a front garden and/or a back garden, not a yard. The sidewalk is referred to as the pavement. The black material in the road is called tarmac. I could go on and on...
Part of the delight of living here is that every day brings surprises. The language is USED so differently. It's like a razor-sharp sword. British humour can be very crude (Remember Benny Hill, Monty Python, Mr. Bean?) or incredibly intelligent and witty (I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue, Not the 9 O'Clock News). Travelling around the country you can hear many regional accents and differences among social classes (unfortunately, still very evident). I am amazed by the practice of “Question Time” in Parliament where the Prime Minister has to respond to challenges each week from the opposition. They have to address each other as “The Honourable Gentleman”, but they hurl insults and cheer and boo across the house. At least there is healthy, open protesting by political opponents.
Perhaps it was the Liverpudlian accents of the Beatles whom I adored throughout my youth or my maternal grandmother’s Americanised Sheffield (South Yorkshire) accent, but I immediately felt at home when I first came to this country. No wonder it’s my adopted home. Change is good.
If you want to fit into a culture, you consciously or unconsciously mimic the natives. (Guess I was successful when I lived in Germany; people used to stop and ask me for directions all the time!) Over the years, I've become bi-dialectal. That is, I understand both American and British. Unfortunately, many of our ex-pats have so little contact with real British people that they never learn the subtle differences. As someone said, we are divided by a common language.
Visiting tourists and unassimilated ex-pats stand out for many reasons, but in particular due to their lack of familiarity with British English. Busses are the ones used for local journeys only, including the double-deckers. Coaches are for long journeys. They’re usually bigger and have a toilet on board. That’s another difference. Americans seem somehow embarrassed to use the word toilet, the proper term for its use. Instead, we resort to euphemisms such as bathroom or rest room. (WC (water closet) is rarely used here any more.) If you go into a department store and ask for pants, you will be directed to the underwear department. Trousers are a kind of dress slacks worn by men. The British go on holiday, not vacation. At fast-food restaurants, you might order a side of chips, not fries. Crisps are thin, crispy fried potatoes in a bag which come in all kinds of flavours, including bacon, Worcester sauce, curry, cheese and onion, or beef. If you are travelling around greater London, you might take the underground or the tube. A subway is a tunnel for pedestrians to use instead of waiting for a light to change to cross the road. Calling someone implies shouting. Here, you say, "I’ll ring you tomorrow.” A substitute teacher is called a supply teacher. Q-tips are ear buds. To get your car inspected, you have to pass an MOT. You write with a Biro instead of a ball-point pen. A multilane, divided highway is known as the motorway, not a thruway. All numbered motorways have an M in front of the name: the M40, the M25, etc. Lesser roads are known as A-roads or B-roads. The word cottage implies something out of “Hansel and Gretel” to an American, but a cottage in the UK could be anything from a four-room terraced house (attached to the neighbouring building) to a four-bedroom country home. British homes may have a front garden and/or a back garden, not a yard. The sidewalk is referred to as the pavement. The black material in the road is called tarmac. I could go on and on...
Part of the delight of living here is that every day brings surprises. The language is USED so differently. It's like a razor-sharp sword. British humour can be very crude (Remember Benny Hill, Monty Python, Mr. Bean?) or incredibly intelligent and witty (I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue, Not the 9 O'Clock News). Travelling around the country you can hear many regional accents and differences among social classes (unfortunately, still very evident). I am amazed by the practice of “Question Time” in Parliament where the Prime Minister has to respond to challenges each week from the opposition. They have to address each other as “The Honourable Gentleman”, but they hurl insults and cheer and boo across the house. At least there is healthy, open protesting by political opponents.
Perhaps it was the Liverpudlian accents of the Beatles whom I adored throughout my youth or my maternal grandmother’s Americanised Sheffield (South Yorkshire) accent, but I immediately felt at home when I first came to this country. No wonder it’s my adopted home. Change is good.
Monday, January 10, 2005
Celebrating Diversity
I teach in an international school in the London area. We have about forty nationalities among our students and faculty. The language of instruction is English, but we bring a broad range of perspectives and experiences to the work that we do here. The halls and cafeteria ring with the sounds of Japanese, Norwegian, Swedish, German, Spanish, Dutch, Italian, Danish, Chinese, Portuguese, Thai, Urdu, American, Canadian, British and many other languages.
In a previous unit in history class, the 8th graders had looked at factors which contribute to the identity of an individual or a country. They began to appreciate that they have been shaped by the customs, historical events, geography, economy, religions, language, traditions, foods, arts and goals of their countries.
In the last week they have begun a unit on Latin America with Mexico as a case study. This time, the uniting theme is diversity. The students decided that diversity means "difference". Instead of looking at all of Latin America as a single stereotype, they're looking for differences - in geographical features, resources, opportunities, histories, cultures, governments, economies, etc. Learning about Latin America is really a secondary goal.
It is this diversity which divides us as individuals and nations. But learning to accept, even celebrate these differences could go a long way towards solving our international problems. Unless we are able to accept that someone can be different from us, we will remain isolated by suspicion, judgement, misunderstanding and fear.
Students were asked to discuss what differences are easy to accept and which ones are not. Who cares if someone likes fish and another prefers chicken? Does it matter if one student likes hip-hop and another heavy metal? No, those differences were easy to ignore, but they acknowledged that it was more difficult to accept prosperity if you were poor, more difficult to accept another religion, and more difficult to accept clothing and behaviors which jarr against one's own culture.
We asked them to identify ways we currently honor our diversity - on a small scale - within our school. We host international foods day where everyone dresses in national costumes, mothers provide traditional foods and music from around the world plays in the background. It's a wonderful day where our differences take on real faces and we learn to appreciate, if not like, our differences. We acknowledge festivals and important holidays within our community. Some of our students fast for Ramadan. Classes came to a halt as we watched a procession of Scandinavian students singing songs and wearing white robes and a crown of candles for the Lucia festival.
There is a feeling of acceptance here, personal experience with real people from other cultures that drives away the judgement. When asked to identify how we can celebrate our diversity, they suggested visiting other countries and educational exchanges, passing laws to outlaw discrimination because of culture, encouraging education about other cultures. (Most Americans don't even own a passport. My students were stunned!)
These are our future leaders. It seems that our present ones could learn a lot from them.
In a previous unit in history class, the 8th graders had looked at factors which contribute to the identity of an individual or a country. They began to appreciate that they have been shaped by the customs, historical events, geography, economy, religions, language, traditions, foods, arts and goals of their countries.
In the last week they have begun a unit on Latin America with Mexico as a case study. This time, the uniting theme is diversity. The students decided that diversity means "difference". Instead of looking at all of Latin America as a single stereotype, they're looking for differences - in geographical features, resources, opportunities, histories, cultures, governments, economies, etc. Learning about Latin America is really a secondary goal.
It is this diversity which divides us as individuals and nations. But learning to accept, even celebrate these differences could go a long way towards solving our international problems. Unless we are able to accept that someone can be different from us, we will remain isolated by suspicion, judgement, misunderstanding and fear.
Students were asked to discuss what differences are easy to accept and which ones are not. Who cares if someone likes fish and another prefers chicken? Does it matter if one student likes hip-hop and another heavy metal? No, those differences were easy to ignore, but they acknowledged that it was more difficult to accept prosperity if you were poor, more difficult to accept another religion, and more difficult to accept clothing and behaviors which jarr against one's own culture.
We asked them to identify ways we currently honor our diversity - on a small scale - within our school. We host international foods day where everyone dresses in national costumes, mothers provide traditional foods and music from around the world plays in the background. It's a wonderful day where our differences take on real faces and we learn to appreciate, if not like, our differences. We acknowledge festivals and important holidays within our community. Some of our students fast for Ramadan. Classes came to a halt as we watched a procession of Scandinavian students singing songs and wearing white robes and a crown of candles for the Lucia festival.
There is a feeling of acceptance here, personal experience with real people from other cultures that drives away the judgement. When asked to identify how we can celebrate our diversity, they suggested visiting other countries and educational exchanges, passing laws to outlaw discrimination because of culture, encouraging education about other cultures. (Most Americans don't even own a passport. My students were stunned!)
These are our future leaders. It seems that our present ones could learn a lot from them.
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