“So can anyone tell me why there is still an underwear factory in ‘Coronation Street’?”

As a way of opening a seminar which followed an introductory lecture on the economic and social effects of the Industrial Revolution (not a small topic!), I thought this was a flash of inspiration on my part. Only time will tell whether my students feel the same way. My pre-occupation with them and all matters related to my new (part-time) academic environment explains my recent blogging silence.

Festival of post-1945 footage

I’m very aware that things have been quiet round here recently, but I hope that normal service will be resumed in 2009.

Earlier in this year, however, I spent a lot of time putting together a variety of clips from YouTube (and/or the BFI and BBC) as additional teaching material for the QMUL Level 1 course ‘The Road From 1945: Britain Since the Second World War’.  My supervisor, Dan Todman of Trenchfever, hit upon the idea (excellent, I think) of a new blog consisting of primary film, televisual and musical sources to complement the other course documents and teaching materials. Although comments are not enabled on the Road from 1945 blog, we would be interested to hear any reactions through the comments which you can post here. 

As we explain on this page, the clips are categorized chronologicaly and cross-referenced thematically.  I was responsible for most of the material which might be of particular interest to Window Smashers: on The Sixties; the 1970s; the 1980s; Music; Cultural History; Political History and Devolution (or, more accurately, the non-English parts of the UK since the late 1960s). 

I’d appreciate any feedback on the the choices of clips, the passages I have written to contextualize them, and the questions I’ve posed to get the students thinking.

Semicolonic irrigation

I tell all of my students, as part of the ‘Citizenship Training’ aspect of teaching, that if they read a broadsheet newspaper (I care not which one) and watch or listen to Newsnight, Channel 4 News or Today a couple of times a week they will reap the benefits in their writing. So I’m sure at least some of them will have read this helpful little piece in the Guardian…

“…a jolly good…”?

For any readers who may land here via a search engine, here’s a link to a new profile page about me. This forms a (very small) part of the overhauled site of the Department of History at Queen Mary, University of London.

People in my current position (which has been occupying a great deal of my time in recent months) have, traditionally, been called ‘Teaching Assistants’. We were recently re-branded with the more pleasant and collegiate title of ‘Teaching Associates’. To my surprise, however, this transformation has gone a step further. I am now, apparently, a ‘Teaching Fellow’. Gosh – first time in my life that anyone has described me as a ‘fellow’.

Sweet (Saint) F (of) A

The relentless nature of our raw material finally catches up with me this week, when I teach my undergraduates about Margaret Thatcher’s government. This is a situation in which I never, ever dreamed I would find myself: rehearsing the entire political landscape of my formative years (in the west coast of Scotland) with (London) students who have no living memory of those events. And doing so “dispassionately”. Mmmm.

In lieu of further comment, here is a clip from 4th May 1979 which, for a variety of reasons, none of us who watched it live will ever forget. In my case, as my mum and I rolled about the sofa, laughing like the aliens in the Smash adverts, I vividly recall my complete conviction that good old Messrs Callaghan and Healey and that very nice Mrs Williams would be back within a matter of weeks.

I still struggle to believe that they never did return.

All of this is now, of course, History. Most bizarelly of all: so, it seems (at least in part), am I.

Image: http://conservativehome.blogs.com/torydiary/images/thatcher_is_pm.jpg

Plagiarism

This post will only make full sense (I hope!) if read as my response to Trench Fever’s recent post on plagiarism. For some strange technical reason which we can’t fathom my words refuse to appear there as a comment, hence their presence here. But, as you will see, plagiarism is something I feel very strongly about. All comments on the issue are welcomed both here and there:

Am I "A Teacher" now?

I realised I must be when I took my Performance in History undergraduate students on a field trip to the reconstruction of Shakepeare’s Globe (highly recommended if you’re ever near Greenwich). The very nice – but extremely young-looking – lady at the ticket desk shouted to the tour guide ‘so that’s 15 students plus Teacher’.

I would like to blog in detail about what I’ve learned through teaching my first full undergraduate-level course this term. But I don’t think I can do that without making specific points which would be extremely unfair to, and probably breach confidentiality with, my students. Besides, I don’t mark their assessments until May. And some of them just might end up reading this blog… But here are a few general thoughts.

There are noticeable differences when teaching in a Humanities department other than one’s own. I found these to be largely differences of tone, terminology and emphasis rather than substance, but they do reveal how much we are all indoctrinated (consciously or subconsciously) into the norms of our own disciplines. I stressed several times to my students that I considered it my job to teach them as Humanities students first and Drama students second. That may horrify some academics, but I make no apology for it. At First Year undergraduate level I believe that is precisely the approach which is required. My experiences this term have confirmed that belief. I would take exactly the same approach if I was teaching a History course, or any other Arts subject.

Basically, it’s all about expanding the ability to think conceptually, analytically and critically (but not cynically). That means attempting – in whatever way seems apt, and often thinking on the hoof – to expand all cultural points of reference. But in order to do that, a great deal of time has to be spent on expanding vocabulary – which is often the biggest hurdle to overcome in making that conceptual leap. Then there’s the thorny issue of writing skills. And then, of course, there’s a syllabus to follow. And trying to get them to plan ahead for their individual, research-driven assessment projects while also keeping up with the weekly reading. All within a course which, in this case, (skillfully and selectively, I must say) was based on case-studies in historical periods ranging from the Ancient Greeks to Victorian Music Hall. And all in the space of 12 weeks!

I was lucky on two fronts. I had two very cooperative fellow TAs to work alongside and an extremely supportive course coordinator to work under. I also had a capable bunch of students who were always perfectly pleasant to me and to each other (when I was present, at least). Inevitably, with any compulsory course such as the one I’ve just taught, there will be varying levels of interest and motivation in either the course as a whole or the individual periods it covers. That is understandable. But they did all contribute fairly well, overall. I told them at the first session that there would be no ‘passengers’ allowed. I can only assume, therefore, that they took this on board – or knew it already. It is impossible accurately to assess a group dynamic when one is part of the group, but I think we all did pretty well on that front. I suppose, given that I had a key role in establishing the dynamic, I should be fairly pleased about that.

Practical notes for first-timers:
- All the myths are true: teaching really is exhausting. The course structure often demanded that I spent two hours solid with 18 first year undergrads. Inevitably, they are all operating at different intellectual and emotional levels. That makes for extremely hard work.
- The preparation takes about three times longer than you might think. Aside from the course materials themselves, a great deal of head-space is taken up with thinking about how students are progressing and how best, therefore, to ‘sell’ that week’s work to them. Then you write the lesson plan. And afterwards you have absences to report and chase up. Allow time for all of that.
- It really does take ages just to learn their names (which can make you feel terribly old).
- Occasionally it is very difficult not to shout, laugh or cry (or all three).
- But the contact time is extremely rewarding. It makes you express yourself much more succinctly. If the message (whatever it may be) is not getting through it is always because you are not expressing it clearly enough.
- You are also kept constantly in touch with one vital question which we all tend to lose sight of: if something is deemed ‘important’, why is it important? Being made to justify the canon, accepted ‘truisms’ and, indeed, yourself, is extremely healthy for all of us.

How best to sum it up? I’m old: I’ve been exposed to lots of ideas, concepts and experiences. They’re young: most of them haven’t. I mean that in a relative sense, of course, but it would, I think, be true whether the age gap is 5 or 50 years. You’re their guide on the journey between those two points for a short period of their lives. That’s a very enjoyable and rewarding role to have in anyone’s life. Whether they considered their role in relation to me enjoyable and rewarding (or whether they may retrospectively consider it so at some point in the future) I will probably never know. But I tried to give maximum time, attention and encouragement to all of them, at whatever level they were operating.

I can only aspire to teach as myself, not as some mythic ideal. A little human agency within the structure of academia: I think that’s the best any of us can hope to offer.