When it comes to charity, I'm a bit like a swing voter. I don't have a particular charity I devote my money and attention to (although I am partial to making people aware of World Bicycle Relief) - I just occasionally donate money to whoever takes my fancy at the time.
What the charities do after that point dictates whether or not I consider giving them money again. Take, for instance, World Vision and Medicins Sans Frontieres. Both of them responded to my giving them money by sending me mail roughly every month asking for more.
Now, for some reason, this has put me right off both charities. It's probably related to the fact that I'm okay with giving money to buskers, but hate giving it to beggars. I'm happy to see you doing something and give you some money towards that, but if you turn to me with your hand out and say "I need money, give me some!" I'm likely to ignore you or tell you to go away.
And, it has to be said, that although I'm reasonably sure they have different funds going towards their operating costs than they do going towards their charitable endeavours, whenever I get another glossy begging letter in the mail my immediate reaction is "surely, if they spent less money on stationery and postage, they would have more money to help people - is this what they spent my donation on?" Because, quite frankly, I feel like I've contributed to their letter campaign, rather than their field work.
I know the justification is that people who have already sent them money are more likely to send them more - but, darn it! I don't want to sign up for another six months of begging letters. I possibly would give you more money if you just left me alone.
So, as much as I actually like what Medicins Sans Frontieres does, and would happily continue to support them, I'm not going to. I'll give my money to a charity that doesn't send me a letter every month saying how much it needs my $100 donation.
World Vision was worse. They started doing these horrible gimmicks like sending you a packet of seeds and asking you to send them back with money. That really ticked me off, because I felt like they were trying to manipulate me. You don't want to steal things from a charity, and keeping something they asked you return felt a bit like stealing...
Please, people. Send me something maybe every six months to tell me what fantastic work you are doing, and I'll probably feel like I want to be a part of it. Send me a letter telling me how much you would like me to send you money, and you may as well push me away. It has the same effect.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
German Grammarpod
I've discovered this resource recently, and it's brilliant:
http://germangrammarpod.blogspot.com/
It's woman called Laura giving shortish (10-25 minute) lessons on German grammar.
In her blurb she mentions that no one seemed willing to talk about German grammar until she got to the university level, and she found that very frustrating - the lack of grammar, that is. Now she works as a translator, and wanted to teach German but gave it up - partly because standard practise is to ignore grammar.
German Grammarpod is her way to get the need to share the grammar of the language out of her system, an I have to say I salute her for it.
I'm a fan of grammar, myself. I honestly believe you can't really know a language without it - I have no idea how people hope to learn a languge (even their own) if they don't know what a verb is, and therefore can't understand that you have to move it to the end of a sentence in this circumstance, or that it always comes directly after the subject in that one...
Someone is bound to take umbrage at this. There are a ridiculous number of people who think grammar is some how elitist, and people don't actually need it, and you should just use a language without trying to analyse it... I don't get that mindset at all. To me, it's like saying you don't need to know how a car works in order to drive it. Well, maybe you can drive around for a while without knowing why turning the steering wheel makes the car go where you point it. Maybe you don't need to know why putting petrol in the car is important, as long as you do it. However, the fact remains that cars don't operate on magic, and knowing how they work and why is not a bad thing. If I know why my tyres need a certain amount of pressure, I'm going to be extra conscientious to make sure they don't get too low.
I like knowing how language works. I think you can use it more effectively when you do. A big part of that is grammar.
So I'm really enjoying these podcasts, obviously. Laura clearly loves knowing the nuts and bolts of German, and she explains it in a way that is easy to absorb. Some times you listen to podcasts and they weren't really written for people who are just listening - like whoever recorded them was more familiar with computers than radio. Laura's episodes have a comfortable, radio-like feel to them and you can happily listen to them in the car.
I recommend it for anyone learning German who wants a nice, clear overview of different grammar points.
http://germangrammarpod.blogspot.com/
It's woman called Laura giving shortish (10-25 minute) lessons on German grammar.
In her blurb she mentions that no one seemed willing to talk about German grammar until she got to the university level, and she found that very frustrating - the lack of grammar, that is. Now she works as a translator, and wanted to teach German but gave it up - partly because standard practise is to ignore grammar.
German Grammarpod is her way to get the need to share the grammar of the language out of her system, an I have to say I salute her for it.
I'm a fan of grammar, myself. I honestly believe you can't really know a language without it - I have no idea how people hope to learn a languge (even their own) if they don't know what a verb is, and therefore can't understand that you have to move it to the end of a sentence in this circumstance, or that it always comes directly after the subject in that one...
Someone is bound to take umbrage at this. There are a ridiculous number of people who think grammar is some how elitist, and people don't actually need it, and you should just use a language without trying to analyse it... I don't get that mindset at all. To me, it's like saying you don't need to know how a car works in order to drive it. Well, maybe you can drive around for a while without knowing why turning the steering wheel makes the car go where you point it. Maybe you don't need to know why putting petrol in the car is important, as long as you do it. However, the fact remains that cars don't operate on magic, and knowing how they work and why is not a bad thing. If I know why my tyres need a certain amount of pressure, I'm going to be extra conscientious to make sure they don't get too low.
I like knowing how language works. I think you can use it more effectively when you do. A big part of that is grammar.
So I'm really enjoying these podcasts, obviously. Laura clearly loves knowing the nuts and bolts of German, and she explains it in a way that is easy to absorb. Some times you listen to podcasts and they weren't really written for people who are just listening - like whoever recorded them was more familiar with computers than radio. Laura's episodes have a comfortable, radio-like feel to them and you can happily listen to them in the car.
I recommend it for anyone learning German who wants a nice, clear overview of different grammar points.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Kveekerid
Ja, ja. Ich wisse. Es ist Deutsche Woche und ich habe dieses Post Titel im Estnisch geschrieben. Whatevs, dude.
I've been reading a bit about Quakers lately, and I have to say the more I learn about Quakers and the more I learn about Estonians, the more I wonder why there isn't a massive Quaker movement in Estonia. There's a mini-Quaker movement, from what I can tell, but measured in handfuls, rather than hundreds. You'd think Quakerism and Estonians would be a good fit.
I mean, this is a religious movement that prides itself on being pragmatic and simple. Quakers hold the principles of truth and conscience as first and foremost, and don't really give a wet slap about anything else. They value plain speaking and plain living, and their worship session consists of not talking to people for stretches of time.
They pooh-pooh fancy pants churches with their symbols and litergies, prefering instead to have a plain room with simple furniture (or even be outside amongst the trees), where they can sit quietly and contemplate deep things. And they don't believe they should say anything unless they have something worthwhile to say - something that would benefit the people hearing them.
Pragmatic, taciturn, to the point and with an instictive mistrust for paraphernalia. If this doesn't sound like a stereotypical Estonian, I don't know what does. Plus, I can see how a people who still prefer wood-fired heating (because you can't trust electricity) and mowing grass by hand could get on board with the simplicity thing.
So why isnt' there a big Quaker movement in Estonia? Kus on kveekerid?
I've been reading a bit about Quakers lately, and I have to say the more I learn about Quakers and the more I learn about Estonians, the more I wonder why there isn't a massive Quaker movement in Estonia. There's a mini-Quaker movement, from what I can tell, but measured in handfuls, rather than hundreds. You'd think Quakerism and Estonians would be a good fit.
I mean, this is a religious movement that prides itself on being pragmatic and simple. Quakers hold the principles of truth and conscience as first and foremost, and don't really give a wet slap about anything else. They value plain speaking and plain living, and their worship session consists of not talking to people for stretches of time.
They pooh-pooh fancy pants churches with their symbols and litergies, prefering instead to have a plain room with simple furniture (or even be outside amongst the trees), where they can sit quietly and contemplate deep things. And they don't believe they should say anything unless they have something worthwhile to say - something that would benefit the people hearing them.
Pragmatic, taciturn, to the point and with an instictive mistrust for paraphernalia. If this doesn't sound like a stereotypical Estonian, I don't know what does. Plus, I can see how a people who still prefer wood-fired heating (because you can't trust electricity) and mowing grass by hand could get on board with the simplicity thing.
So why isnt' there a big Quaker movement in Estonia? Kus on kveekerid?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The Importance of the Reader
I love puppetry. I have a deep respect for the skills and craftmanship that goes into both creating and performing with (through?) puppets. I get a real buzz out of knowing how Big Bird words (and being able to recognise that Bear from Bear in the Big Blue House works the same way). I love knowing what goes into a marionette, how that differs to what goes into a rod puppet, and what needs to be considered for a full body puppet or a giant festival puppet.
There was a time when I thought the natural progression of my love of puppets and my interest in how they work would be to make puppets myself - to construct them and use them. On at least two occasions, I actually started constructing a giant puppet for some project or other. I spent lots of time planning the puppets, and far too much money buying the parts for them, started to assemble them... and then never finished. Ended up throwing out the half-formed carcasses when I need to move, or needed to declutter.
At some point, though, I made a rather important realisation. As a puppet lover, the most important thing I can do is be in the audience. There are dozens of talented puppeteers out there who need someone to watch them far more than they need someone to join them.
By being in the audience - by paying money to see them and by engaging in what they are doing - I am fulfilling an important role. Without an audience, who will they perform for?
I've been thinking about that lately as I've been looking at a number of public library websites around the world for an assignment. A number of them had a "poetry" section where kids could write in and share their poems. Only one had a section for people who like to read poetry (Christchurch City Library - it's a focus on New Zealand poetry that treats poetry like a genre, rather than a project).
It seems as though, these days, poetry is something kids do to "express themselves". We seem to have forgetten that it is also something people read. Without readers, what's the point?
I don't know what it's like in other countries, but in Australia poetry in schools has become the literary equivalent of paddle-pop stick art. Every kid produces it and displays it, no one really looks at it. No one really expects you to. I mean, you wouldn't go to a Year 3 paddle-pop stick art display and spend quality time looking at some kid's work unless it happened to be your kid, right? Well, it's kind of like that with poetry.
Think back to when you were a kid in school. Did you write any poems for a school assignment or project? Can you remember what any of them were? Can you remember any of the poems your friends wrote? Did you even read the poems the other kids in your class wrote? Would you have even thought of reading the poems from the kids who weren't in your class?
And yet, that seems to be the main point of poetry in schools. Kids aren't really learning to read it, just produce it and post it somewhere. I'm not sure I'd really call it poetry, to be honest. I certainly wouldn't call most of the kids who produce it poets. Some, maybe, but most of them are just going through the motions (poorly).
Yet there was a time when poets were the rock-stars of their generation. Some of the best songwriters today are really poets and composers. And there are still real people writing real poems - poems that were meant to be read, rather than just posted to the web like finger-paint pictures on the fridge.
I read poetry. Heck, the last three holidays I went on, I came back with poetry books. I even borrow poetry books from the library. I do it because I enjoy reading poetry. I think a lot of people could enjoy reading poetry, they just aren't used to it. I don't specifically read poetry because I think it's important, but I do think I'm helping to stave off death, in my own little way. By reading poetry for the enjoyment of reading poetry, I'm actually contributing something useful to the world of poetry - the audience.
Sure, there will always be people to study Keats and Byron and Goethe and Liiv at universities and colleges, but poetry isn't just for studying any more than it's just for producing in school projects. Those of us who pick up Colleridge and read The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner for the thrill of it are the ones who are going to keep poetry alive.
And there is something particularly magical about "discovering" a poet for the first time - reading something by someone you've never heard of before, and thinking: "This is fantastic! What else has she written?" My latest discovery? Ursula Bethell - a New Zealand poet in a collection of Kiwi poetry I bought on my trip to Uus-Meremaa last year. I've only read a handful of her poems, but enjoyed all of them. She's worth checking out.
In fact, I think I'll go check out one of her books right now...
There was a time when I thought the natural progression of my love of puppets and my interest in how they work would be to make puppets myself - to construct them and use them. On at least two occasions, I actually started constructing a giant puppet for some project or other. I spent lots of time planning the puppets, and far too much money buying the parts for them, started to assemble them... and then never finished. Ended up throwing out the half-formed carcasses when I need to move, or needed to declutter.
At some point, though, I made a rather important realisation. As a puppet lover, the most important thing I can do is be in the audience. There are dozens of talented puppeteers out there who need someone to watch them far more than they need someone to join them.
By being in the audience - by paying money to see them and by engaging in what they are doing - I am fulfilling an important role. Without an audience, who will they perform for?
I've been thinking about that lately as I've been looking at a number of public library websites around the world for an assignment. A number of them had a "poetry" section where kids could write in and share their poems. Only one had a section for people who like to read poetry (Christchurch City Library - it's a focus on New Zealand poetry that treats poetry like a genre, rather than a project).
It seems as though, these days, poetry is something kids do to "express themselves". We seem to have forgetten that it is also something people read. Without readers, what's the point?
I don't know what it's like in other countries, but in Australia poetry in schools has become the literary equivalent of paddle-pop stick art. Every kid produces it and displays it, no one really looks at it. No one really expects you to. I mean, you wouldn't go to a Year 3 paddle-pop stick art display and spend quality time looking at some kid's work unless it happened to be your kid, right? Well, it's kind of like that with poetry.
Think back to when you were a kid in school. Did you write any poems for a school assignment or project? Can you remember what any of them were? Can you remember any of the poems your friends wrote? Did you even read the poems the other kids in your class wrote? Would you have even thought of reading the poems from the kids who weren't in your class?
And yet, that seems to be the main point of poetry in schools. Kids aren't really learning to read it, just produce it and post it somewhere. I'm not sure I'd really call it poetry, to be honest. I certainly wouldn't call most of the kids who produce it poets. Some, maybe, but most of them are just going through the motions (poorly).
Yet there was a time when poets were the rock-stars of their generation. Some of the best songwriters today are really poets and composers. And there are still real people writing real poems - poems that were meant to be read, rather than just posted to the web like finger-paint pictures on the fridge.
I read poetry. Heck, the last three holidays I went on, I came back with poetry books. I even borrow poetry books from the library. I do it because I enjoy reading poetry. I think a lot of people could enjoy reading poetry, they just aren't used to it. I don't specifically read poetry because I think it's important, but I do think I'm helping to stave off death, in my own little way. By reading poetry for the enjoyment of reading poetry, I'm actually contributing something useful to the world of poetry - the audience.
Sure, there will always be people to study Keats and Byron and Goethe and Liiv at universities and colleges, but poetry isn't just for studying any more than it's just for producing in school projects. Those of us who pick up Colleridge and read The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner for the thrill of it are the ones who are going to keep poetry alive.
And there is something particularly magical about "discovering" a poet for the first time - reading something by someone you've never heard of before, and thinking: "This is fantastic! What else has she written?" My latest discovery? Ursula Bethell - a New Zealand poet in a collection of Kiwi poetry I bought on my trip to Uus-Meremaa last year. I've only read a handful of her poems, but enjoyed all of them. She's worth checking out.
In fact, I think I'll go check out one of her books right now...
Monday, November 22, 2010
Glutton for punishment
By the way, for those of you who haven't already heard the news, I've enrolled in the Diploma of Languages for next year.
I'm trying to work out whether or not also enrolling in the Graduate Certificate of Tertiary Education would just be stupid...
I'm trying to work out whether or not also enrolling in the Graduate Certificate of Tertiary Education would just be stupid...
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Man From the Moon
So, the other day I delivered a talk at a Professional Development conference for my fellow regional librarians.
I decided to go for "entertaining and thought provoking" rather than informative, which in hindsight was not the most useful thing I could have done. I maintain the fact that I came up with the idea while I was on a plane and trying to avoid throwing up is justification for anything, and the fact that it was even remotely coherent was a bonus.
Anyway, I went with a "Mr Squiggle" gimmick, in that I had a whole pile of pictures with what appeared to be random lines and squiggles, which I then connected into actual pictures (a library building, an iPad, a horse, a wheel of cheese on wheels - appropriate library related stuff). These pictures would then be my "slides" and I talked to them instead of a PowerPoint presentation.
I even went to the bother of drawing everything upside-down and turning it over when I was finished (I should have had a volunteer from the audience as "Miss Jane" and had her turn them for me, but as I wasn't using my nose to draw these pictures I figured I could get away with other non-cannon elements).
I did ask everyone to help out a bit by calling out "Upside down! Upside down!" and "Hurry up!" They didn't, but I figured that was because they were boring. Or bored. One of those.
Anyway, quite a number of people spoke to me afterwards saying they enjoyed it, but they "missed out on Mr Squiggle" so couldn't really appreciate it.
To such comments I think the only appropriate response is:
"You what? How could you miss out on Mr Squiggle? The show ran for forty years! You never once saw it as a child? Your own children never saw it? You missed those strangely depressing Claratin ads that ran a couple of years ago? What were you doing between the years of 1959 and 1999?"
Most of these people seemed to be of the belief that the show ran for a brief window and was a) not on when they were children and/or b) not on when their children were children. Meanwhile, most of these people were children during the Miss Pat era, or had children of television age during the Miss Jane era. And some of them would have also had children or grandchildren around for Roxanne or Rebecca (I wonder why they were never "Miss Roxanne" or "Miss Rebecca"?).
Mr Squiggle was the longest running Australian children's show of all time - one of the longest running children's shows in the world - when it was cancelled in 1999. It's an important part of the Australian psyche. Many Australians think of themselves as being in the "Miss Pat" or "Miss Jane" generations.
When people tell me they somehow managed to get through 40 years without once catching an episode of Mr Squiggle... Well, that saddens me a little, it has to be said.
Also, why isn't there a decent, official Mr Squiggle website or something out there? ABC, given how much mileage you're getting out of those darn bananas, why aren't you trying to cash in on the greatest legend in Australian children's television?
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