Having time away from the classroom should be a signal to relax, but without needing to constantly monitor an average of thirty other people, I've found I've had time to become more aware of myself. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or not, especially in light of what I've found.
The main thing I've noticed is how impatient I've become in certain respects. For example,
I dallied with the idea of booking a weekend away - a midweek weekend, if you see what I mean.
Now, how would you go about this? I'm finding it difficult to remember the antiquated
methods pre-internet, but imagine it involved busy tourist offices and hours on the phone listening
to faltering recorded messages.
Now, it doesn't matter if the idea comes during a bout of insomnia, because I can toddle to my computer in my dressing gown, access a travel site, and check instantly for bargains, vacancies, even amazing 3D swirling photographic technology that allows the viewer to zoom in to focus on the type of biscuits that are nestling near the mini-kettle.
Isn't that what those adverts a few years ago promised us would happen? How I laughed when I imagined being dumb enough to even want to check my bank details and pay bills at midnight, like the techno-geeks in the ads. Whoops. I laughed too soon.
Similarly, if I had one of those moments that prompted me to ask a question like, "Who were
all seven dwarves?" or "How do you make a Spanish omelette?" or "Where is that quote from?" and
I didn't have the appropriate reference tome to hand, I'd have to wait until I could get to
the local lending library to look it up. Now, I just fire up the internet again. You can become
quite proud of your own search engine skills, I've found out, so much so that if the information
required doesn't show up in the first few returns, it seems easier to rethink my search terms
than have to spend vital seconds pressing the "Next 10 results" button and looking down the
list.
Imagine all the bother it used to be! I'm surprised I had the inclination to get off my butt, take a trip to the library during its limited opening hours, sift through reference shelves, consult the card index, enquire about obscure librarian codes, only to be told the book I wanted was in a different branch, or horror of horrors, somebody had borrowed the very book I needed! I wonder how I ever learned anything at all.
Maybe that's why TV quiz and trivia shows are so popular now: The Weakest Link, Who Wants to be a Millionaire. If we don't know the answer, we at least know how to look it up. We could even play along, laptops at the ready, to see if we could find out the answer before the contestant has phoned their friend. Just as a practice, you see, in case one day I am a "phone a friend" person, chosen for their bookish knowledge on my chosen subject, but I don't know the answer and have to look it up quickly before Chris Tarrant starts thinking what a fool I am.
If I hear a book mentioned on the radio that I like the sound of, I don't have to wait
until my next shopping trip. I can go online, look up the title and author on the radio
station's website, zip into an online store, and that book could be in my hands by the next
morning if I so desired. There's even a number I can dial on my mobile if I don't know
the name of a song I like. Play or sing the song and my phone will receive a text message
telling me what it is. I'm then just a few clicks from downloading the track from
somewhere out in hyperspace, or ordering the CD from a store.
If I have an onscreen article to read, I don't have to plough through it all. Just by pressing the Ctrl button along with the letter F I can instruct my computer to find the words I'm looking for. Okay, I may have lost the whole gist of the article, but why waste my time? After all, I have other stuff to do, like cooking dinner - except I don't want to wait for jacket potatoes when the ready mash takes a third of the time in the oven.
What I'd like to know is, what am I doing with all this extra time I've gained by cutting out the hour in the library or the Saturday afternoon making a fool of myself by humming badly to bemused music store staff?
At least I remember what life was like before the internet. It's a little hazy, but
writing letters to distant friends, or even holiday companies, was one activity I don't
seem to do much any more. The last time I went to the local library was quite recently,
but it was to see if they had a video I wanted to show one of my classes.
But if I'm so impatient these days, and I remember what it was like pre-internet when patience had to be a virtue, imagine what it's like for kids now. I first used the internet when the present Year 7s were still in nappies, before they could even answer back. I made my first online purchase just as they were discovering nursery school. How can I expect them to understand the joys of browsing through books in the library, hoping to chance across something specific, and only finding it after a pleasurable meandering journey through monochrome prose and colour book plates?
Finding out what you want to know at a click of a button and a few impatient, finger-tapping,
mouse-fiddling moments is instant gratification, but it's the convenient microwave meal
compared to the grand banquet of deliciousness that libraries can provide. Online stores
might tell me I'm browsing and putting things in my shopping basket, but I never feel
how heavy my basket is getting and there's no offer of a trolley when I think my basket's
full.
I know I'm going to have to set an example when the new term starts: take my classes to the school library, or learning resource centre, or whatever it's called now, tell them the computers are down (a justified teacher lie), and convince them to dust off some of the treasures within, before the more traditional skills are lost. Including the skill of patience.
added 3/8/04
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