Old School - New Technology

 

One of my grandchildren is doing Key Stage 2 Standard Assessment Tests, otherwise known as KS2 SATs exams this week. He’s on track, so I’m sure he will be fine. He likes to do his homework at my house, which is fine. In recent weeks, the homework has been SATs practice papers for Maths and English and a list of spellings to learn. Maths is good. He is a whizz at maths, except anything to do with mixed fractions. Not my forte, either, better ask Grandad. I’m good at passing the buck. I’m good at English. At least, as a published writer I thought I was until I encountered an English paper he needed a little help with. Thank you, Google, for topping up my old brain with ‘subordinate clauses’, ‘subordinating conjunctions’, ‘relative pronouns’ and many more terms new to me that I tried to quickly learn. I decided that although I have qualifications to prove I am (was) educated to a certain level, I finished up feeling a bit thick, and he’s not quite eleven.

He attends one of my old schools. I had five different primary schools due to my father’s job in the licenced trade taking the family to various towns. As a child, I was very unhappy at this school and failed to settle in. These days, someone would pick up on that and show care and encouragement to a child, especially coming in new to the unfamiliar. For all that I once hated it, I’m at home there, now. I look after the infant’s library as a volunteer. Previously, I worked there. I would be out of my depth now. Methods have changed so much, even since my own children’s primary school years. I suppose we must move with the times.

My grandson will go to high school in September, where things will be even less familiar to me. That’s if he tells me anything about it, of course.

In my day, the Eleven Plus created the great divide between Grammar or Secondary school, and made some of the exam failures, like me, feel disappointed and even worthless. The KS2 SATs won’t be responsible for anything like that, thank goodness.

When I was at secondary school, we had to use fountain pens in English. Handwriting was encouraged to be cursive and perfectly formed, something to take pride in. Untidy writers were made to practice on specially lined paper. Sometimes, English homework would be to learn a poem by heart. It would be recited in class. No escape.

My grandson has developed his own handwriting style, as we all do. At school, some work, including writing is done on an iPad. Modern technology is the way forward and as things change and improve, we must keep up. I am ‘old school’ in my ways and in my thinking, but coping, I think, in this digital age.

My poem is not intended to sound cynical, but more of a sigh to what has passed never to return. A comparison from then to now.

An Alternative Education

The 3Rs soon to be redundant
Computer-led kids will be abundant
With all information mega-quick,
It only takes a scroll down and click.
No need for any conversation
Included in their education.

Last year’s reception class have all gone
And taken a leap up to Year One
To drag sticky fingers on iPad screens
And work out what technology means.
Will this be their basic foundation
Instead of formal education?

Numeracy, or let’s call it Maths
Has rules to follow specific paths
Beginning with learning how to count
Then adding up and sharing out.
One click away from calculation
Takes away their education.

When did this digital preference start?
Oh, why no poetry learnt by heart?
‘Spell check’ becomes their favourite teacher
With ‘grammar check’ an added feature.
The only future expectation,
A self-taught on-line education.

The infants are learning to use a pen
It’s not a skill they’ll need again,
For a future spent staring on-line,
Social activity in decline
With hardly any interaction,
So they won’t need our education.

PMW 2015

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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In The Freezer - What's For Tea?

Travelling home from a few weeks touring southern Scotland in our caravan, our conversation turned to “What’s for tea?” We had been eating out more than usual and the meals I’d put together on board were perfectly adequate though simple, using the microwave, toaster or George Foreman mini grill, and lots of salad. As yet, the pristine gas cooker is untouched by me, due to being timid of gas bottles. The answer to our question was “Something in the freezer,” as it often is.

We have a massive larder freezer and you’d be hard pressed to find a gap amongst the contents. It matches the massive larder fridge, which by comparison, is almost empty in our absence. We used to house a family of four or more. Just two of us now, but feed any number of grandchildren a couple of times a week, depending on after-school activities and us being helpful. There is always something to eat in the freezer or the tins cupboard.

I think we take it all for granted because we’ve got used to relying on being able to store food the way we do. Not too long ago it was different. When I was a child, one of our pubs had a few bedrooms for residential guests and provided meals. I was fascinated by the chest freezer in the cellar, and the ice cream inside it. I’m sure there was plenty of food as well, but having ice cream at home was a novelty. As a young adult, my flat was a cosy little home but without a fridge, never mind a freezer. I managed. I stood my bottle of milk in a bowl with cold water to keep it fresh and hoped for the best. I got a cool box and that was good for butter as well. I had tins and packet foods and bought fresh food as I wanted it, usually picking up something for tea on my way home from work. I didn’t have a handy shop nearby back then. I have two or three now within walking distance – and a stuffed freezer.

I try to keep some sort of order in my stuffed freezer. Homemade items are labelled and dated, there’s a drawer for vegetables and another for potato based food. Fish, meat, pies, pizzas and a supply of Bernard Matthews unicorns, dinosaurs and similar goodies all have their place and a generous amount of ice lollies so we are always ready for visiting children. With all this organisation, I can’t understand how the entire contents are always untidy and often lost, to be found in another drawer.

My poem,

In The Freezer

Some of Iceland’s apple strudels,
Opened stir-fry veg with noodles,
Gregg’s sausage rolls to bake yourself
Pushed to the back of the wrong shelf.
Someone’s put all the chicken pies
In the same drawer as oven fries.
Only ‘tatoes in those spaces,
McCain Jackets, Smiley Faces.
Fish in batter, salmon fish cakes,
Our favourite butcher’s gammon steaks.
Tubs of homemade Bolognese sauce,
Curry and chilli, too, of course.
Escaping sprouts and corn and peas
And tasty pastries filled with cheese
Left over from our Christmas fayre,
Like croquettes I forgot to share.
It’s past its best, that corned beef hash
And so is that left-over mash.
The Dinosaurs are good to eat
And Unicorns, the children’s treat.
The kids will love a freezer feast,
Pasta and garlic bread, at least,
A triangle of pizza, too,
Coleslaw and a few dips will do.

PMW 2023

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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