Things a chorister must keep in mind, or, Multitasking without knowing it

I have just finished a series of choral concerts, and it occurred to me tonight that choristers actually have quite a lot to think about.

Things necessary for any singing:
breath - when to breathe, how to breathe, when you'll need to breathe
posture - feet shoulder-width apart, shoulders back, head up, hands by sides
support  - tightening abdominal muscles, particularly for high notes, loud notes, or when running out of breath
preparing a note - this is difficult to explain, but each note must be thought of a beat before you sing it, and some notes need you to change the part of the voice you're singing in
tone - breathy or strong, head voice or chest voice, bright or dark
mouth shape - up and down rather than wide, soft palette raised (depending on the piece)
staying in tune - self-explanatory
whether you're going to faint - I haven't ever seen someone faint in performance, but I have seen people have to sit down, and if you stand still for too long it is a definite possibility

Things necessary for any piece:
vowels - avoiding dipthongs (e.g. sky is said "skah-ee" with them melded together, but sung "skah-ee" with the ee at the very end), what vowel it is (oo, oh, or, ah, a, au, eh, ee), bright or dark
diction - singing the voiced consonants (e.g. p, d), accenting unvoiced consonants (e.g. s, t)

tempo - are you rushing, are you slowing down, should you be

time signature - where are you in the bar, which beats are strong and which weak

dynamics - loud or soft or in-between, getting louder, getting softer, sharp changes in dynamic

accents - which notes are emphasised

staccato/legato - should notes be strung together smoothly, or each sung separately

cut-offs - when in the bar do you stop singing, maintaining the note until that point

the rhythm - what is the actual rhythm you are supposed to sing

the tune - what is the actual tune you are supposed to sing

the words - what are the words you are singing

what is coming next - in two bars, what will you be singing

the structure of the piece - where are you up to, is this a high point or a low point, are you repeating a section

Things necessary for any group:

the conductor - what are you being told to do, are you doing what is indicated

the ensemble - do you sound like everyone else, do you fit in with their sound, are you in tune and in time

blending - does your tone match theirs, do your vowels match theirs

Things necessary for any performance:
the meaning/emotion of the words - what should you be feeling, what should the audience be feeling

smiling/looking alive - keeping an interested expression on your face (it takes conscious effort for many performers, including me)

not fiddling with anything - don't touch your face, don't shift your feet, don't move your hands, look at the conductor, the ensemble or the audience

moving with the music - feel the music and move with it (this should be natural, but many are trained out of it)
props - sometimes you are holding something in your hands, maybe a candle (particularly for christmas concerts), or an instrument in some choirs, in which you need to think about how to use it
choreographed movement - I object to choralography on principle, but many choirs use it, pieces may also specify clapping, stamping or clicking at certain places, some specify standing and sitting, sometimes you sing while walking

That is actually almost thirty things a chorister should keep in mind, which you would expect to be impossible. However, with practice, tasks which are closely associated get mixed into a single "thing to think about". This can be seen in the difference between learning drivers and experienced ones - the learners have to pay very close attention to everything they do in case they forget something, while for more experienced drivers, driving is one task, so they can divert attention to conversation or music. In this way for a chorister breath, support and tone might all be combined, or vowels, diction, the words and meaning of the words. Posture, fiddling, not fainting, choreographed and natural movement all go together. The better a chorister, the less they have to think about each of these things, so the more they can prioritise. When choristers are very good, most of their attention goes to the conductor and the ensemble - to being totally together, singing exactly what is written, what the conductor wants and what everyone else is singing. It is quite remarkable when a choir achieves this.

Many people are aware of studies which disprove effective multitasking. However, these studies usually do not actually test the effectiveness of common forms of multitasking, only ones that are easy to measure. I strongly hold that multitasking is possible, but only when the tasks are so closely associated they are not thought of as separate, or so automatic they need not be thought of. It is multitasking to walk and talk. It is multitasking to read aloud. It is multitasking to write or type. It is multitasking to have a conversation over dinner, to play a musical instrument, to cook. Very few of us do one thing at a time. To move and observe and think is to multitask. It is not impossible to multitask - it is impossible not to.

Assessment

We are just beginning an assessment period at my school, so they've been rather on my mind, and I would like to share some of my observations about assessment tasks.

They can be classified in various ways, including the following:
In-class or prepared
Constructive or diagnostic
Knowledge-based or skills-based
Short answer or extended response
Topic-focused or overall
Creative, analytical or research (for knowledge-based tasks only)

Already a bewildering number of options present themselves, but at least a few may be eliminated. It is unlikely, for example, that you would be required to do a short-answer, knowledge-based, in-class creative task, because it is almost impossible to write the questions, let alone answer them. Some tasks are irrelevant to some subjects: creative tasks are not possible in maths/science subjects. Even so, there is no possibility of a task which suits all subjects, or even all topics within a subject.

It occurs to me that, with this in mind, a standardised national test, in similar formats for every subject, is unlikely to truthfully represent the skill-set of even the average student. Why then are they so prevalent?

I believe that such final exams began to be used before much study had gone into teaching and learning styles, and it was possible to have rote answers for a great many subject areas, and have since been reinforced by their decades of existence and the difficulty of major changes to education systems. They are now regarded as a more or less fair way to distinguish between those students capable of extensive higher-level education, and those who are not. Are they?

The two important factors in judging a test are its reliability and validity. Is it reliable? If the same person undertook the same test three times with the same knowledge, would they get the same marks? If the same paper was marked three times, would the same marks be given? The design of these tests is highly concerned with this question of reliability, which leads to a greater proportion of short answer or even multiple choice, as well as cross-marking in most subjects. I think I can say with a reasonable degree of certainty that most final exams are reliable. Are they also valid? Do they test what we think they are testing? To answer that, we must first define what we wish final examinations to do.

In my mind, final exams are designed to discriminate between levels of ability and predicted success at university, to tell us which students will do well there and which will do worse. With that in mind, we should look at what makes a successful university student. Good university students are motivated, independent, dedicated, disciplined and enjoy learning. In essence, good university students are those who can learn well, quickly and on their own. So, final examinations should test the ability of a student to learn, and to learn independently.

The HSC is a year and a half with a small break in the middle of continuous learning, with continuous assessments, leading to a final exam which focuses on factual information and skill-sets. Such a process tests endurance. It tests ability to withstand stress. It tests memory. It tests support systems and ability to find resources. All those things are useful in university, but not, I believe, a predictor of success. So we reach the conclusion that the HSC is an invalid test, and by extension, similar exams in other states or countries are also invalid.

Having reached the conclusion that the current exam format, though reliable, is invalid as a discriminator for university purposes,the immediate question is: what else could we do?

We wish to design an assessment of learning ability, particularly independent learning. It is important to note that this is not a test of intelligence - though it may contribute to learning ability, a high IQ will not guarantee high marks, in the same way that it does not in current systems. Nor would it aim to test the information in the syllabus. At first it seems an impossible task. To throw an idea in the air:

Topics could be assigned at random, with students asked to use set materials to create either a presentation (with script and visuals submitted) or a report (similar to an academic essay) and given a set time (a fortnight, a month) to do so. So that students would be able to work in their rough comfort zone, they would be able to choose a broad subject area (maths/sciences, social sciences, philosophy/literature). If they used additional sources, then they would gain marks, because ability to research is useful. However, marks would be given for successful integration of the set material, and the set material would be sufficient for an acceptable presentation/report. Students would be marked on originality/individuality to emphasise the importance of their own work.  Answers would be cross-checked (using the now prevalent anti-plagiarism software) against responses from other years to ensure students learned themselves. After students had submitted their works, they would each be asked to do a Viva Voce - to talk to an examiner about their topic area, without notes - as a demonstration of their absorbtion of the information.

At first sight, this model seems to require far too many markers - however, it would actually need probably half the markers that current systems use. Presently, every student does at least five or six subjects and in each there is a final exam. This replaces those five or six exam papers (each of which are marked twice, taking over an hour), with one paper and one presentation. It seems that it would take an enormous amount of time to interview each student, with the 70 000 students in my state alone, but once again, the HSC already makes provisions for the large number of students. If each school had a set of markers, the students could be heard in ten days, by my approximate calculations, and that is assuming each school hears only one student at a time. There are logistical problems, but they are not insurmountable, and they are certainly no larger than those presently dealt with by the Board of Studies.

I think that raising these questions about the nature of assessments and trying to come up with new ideas is important. A large contributor to the unshakability of systems currently in place is that other options are rarely considered. Such drastic changes would be very difficult to implement, but evaluating them paves the way for smaller movements towards valid assessment.

Time is money

When you have a job, the saying is trite, but in high school, it is remarkably apt. For us, time is money. Because we don't earn our livings, even if some of us do work a bit, money is used for treats - concerts, travel to a friend's house, afternoon tea at a cafe, gifts. We don't really need to pay attention to what money we have and how we spend it, although it is certainly wise to do so. Our equivalent currency is time. Every activity must be weighed in terms of the time investment. It is expensive to live far from school, because we lose hours in travel. Extra-curricular activities are also expensive. School is a necessary investment, like rent - our lifestyle requires it. Procrastination is spending unwisely on toys and gadgets. When I help somebody with their homework, or something I don't understand, I have given something away - not knowledge, because that never leaves you, or money, because I wouldn't be paid, but the time that I have spent teaching them, which I might have spent on my own work. I choose to make an investment in friendships, because I feel I gain something worthwhile from them. I cannot yet effectively avoid procrastination, but I wish I could, because I know it's a waste. Unlike money, however, we are forced to spend our time rather than save it. It's a little sad to realise, but where money comes and goes, time just goes.

Happiness is finite - or some such thing

It occurred to me today* that global levels of happiness are static. Our parents were probably as happy at our age as we are now. Their parents were similarly content, or if not, their levels of happiness were comparable to some other person of our acquaintance. In fact, a hundred years ago, people would have been as happy as us. And five hundred years ago. And a thousand. And two thousand and three thousand and five thousand and ten thousand and before human history our amount of happiness was identical to our happiness now. Because happiness is about comparison. Things are not as bad as they could be. Within the society I operate, I am successful. And there have always been those who are content with what they have, and those who wish for more.

During the Renaissance, infant mortality rates were higher, lives were shorter, the gap between those with power and those without was larger, and your chance of dying horribly even in the most developed countries was far greater. But, this was the same for everyone. Some people were unlucky, and became poorer or sick, or lost children. Some people were lucky, became richer and had robust healthy families. But this all lay on a continuum of possibility which everyone grew up with, and although the old could remember when times were different, that wasn't real in the way the present world was.

Now, we live longer, safer lives, with rights to greater freedom and individuality (at least in Western nations, I haven't lived in other cultures). Are we happier? I suspect the answer is no. Our worry quota is now filled by fears for the world, rather than fears for our lives, and the threat of unemployment rather than famine. But though our worries are different, we experience them in the same way and to the same degree.The human brain has not evolved the capacity to be happier, or to be more troubled.

I am not certain whether I should be pleased with this. At least it means that in the future we will be as content as we are now. But that raises the question: if we are as happy now as we have ever been, why on earth all these gadgets? As a society, progress does not make us happier. And of course, this question is answered by some of the fundamentals of evolution. We all compete. We compete for wealth, stability, prowess, anything in which we can be demonstrably superior. So if all we had to show off was sticks, then my goodness the stick brandishing that would take place. "Due to startling advances in twig technology", however (to quote Douglas Adams), we are now able to compare our gadgets - our phones, our computers, our mp3s - and don't they have a marvellous number of points of comparison? We can compare colour, size, capacity, dimensions, contents...the possibilities are endless. And by making our comparisons we can decide which qualities are worth keeping, and which are not, and the gadgets themselves undergo a process of evolution. Rather remarkable really.

So, if we retrace our steps from that somewhat extended tangent, we find ourselves again at the question: should we be comforted that we have never and will never be happier? As I am finding more and more lately (which I believe is part of the getting of wisdom), I don't really know. Much as I am disappointed that we have made no great advances, it is comforting to know that our lifestyle cannot really change our experience of life. And that leads to the realisation that since it is possible to be happy with less than we have now, we can afford to get less stuff, and still be content. Which is, all in all, a fairly admirable goal.



*My apologies for the semi-hiatus

What is justice?

The dictionary tells me it is "the quality of being just". Then what does it mean to be just? Again according to the dictionary, it means to be "honourable and fair in one's dealings with others; consistent with what is morally right; properly due or merited; lawful; suitable or proper in nature; based on fact or sound reasons". That is a lot of meanings for a single word, which to me indicates that we don't know what we mean when we say "justice". We often use it to refer to appropriate punishment: "he was brought to justice" or "justice was done". It is also used to mean the righting of wrongs: "they were finally granted justice". It seems to mean "to do what is right".* But then the question must be asked - what is right? What is just?

In a conversation between my father and my younger sister today, he mentioned that some Holocaust survivors devoted their lives after the war to finding Nazis and bringing them to justice. And the thought occurred to me - what justification is there for the execution of war criminals?  It is not prevention of further suffering by them, because they no longer can cause it. I find it difficult to believe that war criminals would fear execution by other nations, because I don't believe they feel themselves vulnerable in that way, so the executions themselves are not a deterrent to others. It is not recompense, because the victims gain nothing material from it. The reasons I am aware of for punishment are preventing further crime, repaying the victims for what they lost, and emotional satisfaction of those affected. Does this mean that we execute war criminals for revenge? Somehow there is an element of punishment missing, because my mind rebels and says "there is no fit punishment any less severe". Perhaps punishment is a way to force criminals to give back to society? That doesn't seem to make sense. Criminals are removed from society for a length of time proportionate to the wrongs they did. Their absence is compensation to the community? That is illogical. So from the question of "what is just?" has emerged the question of "what is punishment?".

I do not know the answer to these questions. It would be surprising if I did, being so young. But I feel they are questions worthy of asking. It is too easy to use words without defining them, and although this does not matter for "gossamer" or "vibrant", it certainly does matter for "justice" and "freedom". Constitutions are built on words such as these, laws are written around them, leaders chosen to uphold them. Could you explain your values without using synonyms? Often our responses to moral questions are visceral - inside our heads we shout. But until we can articulate why something is ethical, why it is morally good, we cannot persuade others, and only by persuasion may definitions of justice and freedom be spread.

Why it doesn't really matter if the panda goes extinct

Pandas are wonderful animals. They are unique among mammals in having a sixth (opposable) digit, they fill an ecological niche in Chinese bamboo forests, and they are cute when they're little. Because they are so cute, they are one of the endangered animals often mentioned in environmental propaganda. But although I don't want to see them go, I don't think it matters if they do.

One of the major facets of the evolutionary process is natural selection. This is often referred to as "survival of the fittest", but I think is best described as "competition". Animals within a species, or within and ecology, compete for access to resources. Those which are more successful thrive and become dominant. When there is a shortage, the less successful die out. Humanity is unique (to our knowledge), in that we consciously and to a significant degree alter our environment. This means that since we began to use sophisticated tools, we have gradually but enormously changed the features of the environments we inhabit. We are even beginning to change the environments we don't inhabit through a) trying to inhabit them; b) trying to get resources from them; and c) polluting the planet in ways which affect them. Because we are unique in doing so, we do not think of it as "natural". Instead we talk about "unnatural selection", when we breed animals for specific characteristics, and lack a term to describe selection by competition for resources we use. When we clear a rainforest for lumber and land, this is not thought of as competition between our species and every other species in the area, which is what it is. It is thought of as "habitat destruction", if you are of environmental leanings, and "profit" if you aren't. Humanity has apparently escaped evolution. If we are affecting other species that's not fair. It's tantamount to (badly) advising one player in a chess game, or stealing half the property cards in monopoly. Why is humanity now unnatural?

For centuries the idea has existed that humanity is separate from the rest of life on earth. We are the pinnacle of the Tree of Life. We consider ourselves unquestionably superior, even if we have not yet found a specific reason why (the jury is still out on intelligence, tool-use, empathy, even creativity). Somehow we have also come to believe we are responsible for other life-forms. Perhaps it is the echo of our kindergarten teachers, telling us to "put things away where you found them". Perhaps it is a remnant of the "white man's burden" idea. Perhaps it is tied up with our empathy - they're in trouble, we can help them, we should help them. I don't propose to know the answer why, but humanity feels responsible to leave the earth as we found it, which is pretty much a losing battle. Even if we hadn't caused major changes to the planet, the planet changes without our willing it to. Evolution happens. Continents drift. The atmosphere heats up or cools down. A thousand years after we are gone (an uncomfortable thought, but it is inevitable), the planet will be essentially the same as at some other time in its history. And the ecologies will be different, with the same patterns. Since the time we define as the beginning of humanity (which is still debated, but the point stands) we have contributed to the extinction of thousands of species. I see reason for regret - there is diversity we do not remember and cannot imagine. I do not see reason for guilt - we competed with other species for resources, won, and filled the ecological niches we had left empty. This is entirely natural. I does not matter to the planet as a whole if we are the only mammal left, or even the only vertebrate. Life will go on, starting again from bacteria if necessary.

On an evolutionary timescale, the extinction of the panda does not matter. We don't think in terms of millions of years. We think in decades, centuries at most. We will miss the panda. The planet will not.

You learn more from books than you think you do

Many people, when trying to persuade others that reading for pleasure is useful, refer to the wonders it does for your vocabulary and your spelling. But these reasons are not the main reasons I would encourage people to read. Books are full of peripheral information. In order to describe something well you need to know what it looks like and feels like and sounds like. If you are talking about animals, you need to know how they behave. The same goes for organisations, although sadly, not always for people. This comes through in the book. A book well researched is a book full of life. Even fantasy novels work better if the author knows at least something about the dynamics of semi-medieval society, or how weapons should be used, or whatever it is they are basing the fantasy. In historical fiction you learn an enormous amount, as long as the author has checked their facts (and usually you can tell). Simply reading novels can teach you a lot about the world.

Not only that, books stretch your ideas. More intellectual authors, such as Terry Pratchett, include a rather healthy dollop of philosophy in what they write. Books such as Jostein Gaarder's The Solitaire Mystery introduce new ideas in a shape which fits into anyone's head. Books have caused me on so many occasions to question the nature of "life, the universe and everything" that such questioning is part of my approach to the world. Even books without philosophical intentions provide additional perspectives of the world. On the simplest level, they illuminate the opinions and unspoken assumptions of previous generations. Looking deeper, attitudes of different religions or ethnic backgrounds can become familiar and understood through novels.

Even more important, to me, are the phrases. Books give you words with which to write the world. Every so often, while reading, a phrase emerges which stays in your mind for the sheer recognition you felt when you saw it - a phrase which perfectly describes what you already know but have not found the words for. You come to a greater understanding of your own ideas by hearing them described.

Sadly, few realise that enjoyment of literature is more than a way to broaden your vocabulary and improve your spelling. How many, when asked, could think of more than utilitarian reasons for literacy? So while we, the lucky few, curl up in a corner of our favourite library with something familiar or something new, those who do not share this joy may never know what they're missing. Books are food for the soul - and as with all food, there is cookery and cuisine, sweet and savoury, sustenance and luxury. So I will not encourage people I meet to read for the sake of their vocabulary - that is why the thesaurus came into existence. I will encourage them to read because they'll never what they were missing if they don't.

People are people

In ancient Pompeii at one point, there was a series of earthquakes of increasing magnitude which, quite reasonably, frightened not a few of those living in the town. Many families fled, selling their homes to whoever would buy them, and after the earthquakes subsided, returned to find almost all the property in the hands of a few, who shortly became very rich. The realisation that, even two thousand years ago, land owners had an idea of the changes in the real estate market was fascinating to some members of my history class. I take it as further evidence to support an idea my friends have heard many times: people are people everywhere (and everywhen). 

At first, it sounds obvious. Of course people are people. That sort of truism is no more than tautology. But follow the idea to its logical end and you begin to get a grasp on why history is so important. People are people, and have always been. They have always had the same physical and emotional needs, they have always had close relationships with those around them, they have always enjoyed good food, they have always wanted more, they have always been curious about the world. They have felt the same aches and pains we do when they worked hard. They have felt the same stress when under pressure. They have felt cold or hot or generally uncomfortable. They have worried about their appearance. They have liked beautiful things. They have made things and learned things and understood things. They have been experts. 

This is not usually understood by those who study history at a junior level, because many history textbooks have a somewhat patronising view of earlier cultures. There is a deep seated conviction that history has been leading up to now, rather than evolving (and I use that word deliberately) any old how and things being the way they are by chance. We feel we are the culmination of millennia of civilisation, rather than the result. This is reinforced by textbook attitudes. In an 1828 social sciences book, Muslims are described as "those who believe in Mahomet, an impostor in Arabia, who lived 600 years after Christ, and pretended to be inspired." Now, even those who resent Islam would be shocked to see that in an official text. But in another two hundred years, how will our textbooks be interpreted? 

Since the 1970s there has been a move in history classes towards describing social roles rather than events, particularly when studying the Middle Ages. So we learn about peasants, who were poor, uneducated farmers; nobles, who were wealthy, taught to fight, and had arranged marriages; and priests/monks who were the only people who could read and could be from any class. Those with even a small amount of further knowledge can spot great wholes in this. Where are the exceptions? What about craftsmen such as blacksmiths and millers? They clearly are not farmers, nor are they nobles or members of the priesthood. How about the nobles who did marry for love? Such a marriage would have to be advantageous to the family, but it was still possible. Or the clerics who couldn't read? Furthermore, the idea that peasants and women were treated like property is objectionable. I acknowledge that they may have had that legal status, although that was certainly not always the case. But I do not believe that men thought of their wives in the same way as their sheep. A healthy relationship is not an innovation of the 20th century. (I could list examples, but they will each be specific, and I am talking of generalisations.) I mentioned earlier that an implication of "people are people" is that there were experts in every time and place. Re-enactors realise this fairly quickly, when they try to make combs out of horn, or make a renaissance dress. Their skills were honed to a fine art, and we are unable to replicate them. 

This idea is important for two reasons. Firstly, it allows us to look at history more honestly, and to see ourselves in the place of those who lived then. Secondly, and more importantly to most of us, it allows us to take a look at other cultures in a new light. "Different" does not mean "less". Just because Western culture is globally dominant, does not mean it is the best. I personally believe that democracy is not perfect, although I prefer it to other current systems, and I think that to believe ourselves perfect will lull us into complacency. Other cultures have the right to be different, and we need to be aware that they come from a very different past, and so will each the future in a different way. When we honestly believe that the natural progress of other nations will not bring them to a state in which their people will be safe, then I understand the reason to act. But in the development of our culture, we have at times been cruel or unjust, and yet have reached our current state of "perfection" without interference from a "more advanced" group. I think it is vital to acknowledge that people everywhere have the same needs and wants, and will find ways to come closer to their dreams, even if it is in ways we are not familiar with. We live in a postmodern world, where we daily acknowledge the presence of multiple truths. Let us acknowledge the presence of multiple moralities and multiple contexts and accept that they will produce multiple standards of "civilisation". Different is not less. Do not treat it as such.

The be all and end all

In a year's time, I will be facing what many consider to be the be all and end all of their schooling career. Until they're past it at least. It is astonishing that we make so much of a single exam, particularly one that will be forgotten within five years of sitting it. From the first year of high school the HSC* has lurked on the horizon, with teachers constantly reminding us that HSC students are their highest priority. Each year we get closer and closer, and each year we are told "you can't muck around any longer, you have to start being serious with your study" (each year we tell ourselves "it's just a practice run"). More than 20% of students suffer severe anxiety, depression or stress during the HSC year. Something is wrong here.

I have heard the HSC referred to as a rite of passage. I think that is incorrect. A rite of passage is usually a trial of courage and endurance of pain, a ceremony to induct boys (most commonly) into adulthood. It is one day, or three days, or a week. It is not more than a year long. At the beginning of year 11 we start learning things we will be examined on almost two years later, in some subjects. At least twice each year we will be tested on everything we have learned so far. Every day, we might miss something crucial. In some subjects, this is compounded by the lack of comprehensive textbooks, for others it is alleviated somewhat by their presence. Throughout the two years we force ourselves to process truckloads of information, to work late into the night, to plan weeks in advance. Many skills we learn will be useful in our working lives, but many more will be superfluous. The HSC is by no means a rite of passage. It is a long, grueling test of our ability to resist stress, function on minimal sleep, and regurgitate information in response to key words. It has more in common with chewing a limb off to escape a trap than a traditional initiation ceremony.

So why are we still encouraged to care so much? Surely a more healthy attitude would be to work towards knowledge and self-satisfaction. Why is an ATAR worth all that stress? I think the answer is convention. We are accustomed to the HSC being the highest school level award, which used to mean it was the end on many people's education. It has transitioned to being an entry exam for universities, but its earlier importance has lingered. Not a particularly good reason to base your life around it. I think we all need to get a bit of perspective, and keep it in mind. At the end of your formal education (though you will never stop learning), you will, without a doubt, remember your HSC year as significant. But the most memorable things will not be the mark, but the camaraderie which emerges from shared circumstances, the off-topic discussions which took place while avoiding work, and the relationships with teachers and fellow students. The HSC is a single exam, designed to help allocate students to universities. Treat it as a measure, rather than a goal. It's not, despite all impressions to the contrary, the end of your life or your learning. There is more to education than assessments. Let the HSC be a passing phase, an experiment in long-term goals, and be ready to give it up once it's over.

*for those who aren't aware, the HSC (Higher School Certificate) is the end-of-high-school set of exams in NSW

The end is nigh

Every generation feels that the world is going to end during their lifetime. You can track the development of this through post-apocalyptic novels - there have been novels about the aftermath of nuclear holocaust, over-pollution, self-aware machines, Y2K, genetic modification and so on. Now, however, we have a somewhat unique situation: we have too many ways for the world to end. We have cumulated apocalypses from many previous generations, and now are trying to avert the consequences of food shortages, increasing abilities of computers, over-dominance of technology, lack of oil, population explosion, tension between countries with nuclear capabilities, terrorism (and the fear of it), and of course global warming. Everywhere we turn we are confronted with dire consequences for our actions, leading us to either become hyper-activists or ignore the issues completely, just so we can cope.

It is interesting to note that the people most affected by this global sense of impending doom are the teenagers and young adults. We have been inundated with information about all of our apocalypses, and are constantly called upon to contribute to their solutions. An Inconvenient Truth and The Day After Tomorrow have become standard substitute lessons in geography and science, to the point where we just get sick of it. Because we know the consequences. And we can't help. The people who are doing the majority of the buying and the majority of the politics are our parents, and others their age or older. They, of course, miss a lot of the propaganda, since it takes place, for the most part, in universities and schools. Which is all very well for solving what problems are left in a decade or two, but does little to solve the problem now.

Another aspect of the problem is humanity's curiosity. The thirst for knowledge may not be felt by all on an individual scale, but it can be clearly seen in the actions of the world's academics and inventors. Research has gone into every aspect of human life, although sadly, proportionally little has been published widely enough to reach the public. We will keep creating ways by which our way of life could cease to exist - it is remarkably easy to do so. So I have learnt to treat predictions of the end of the world with some skepticism, if only to preserve my own peace of mind.

Philosopher

The word philosopher literally means "lover of wisdom". The term emerged in order to distinguish thinkers such as Socrates and Plato from sophists, intellectuals who dispensed knowledge for a fee. A philosopher, by contrast, did not aim to earn money through the seeking of wisdom, or even to earn money, but simply to discover more about the world. Now of course, philosopher means someone who studies the nature of existence, humanity, beauty, truth, meaning, reason and the mind, among other things. I am the second meaning, but more importantly, I am the first.

What am I saying?

It occurs to me that unless I have some sort of plan, nothing may come of this. So, a prediction:

I am in my final year of high school and have a fairly heavy workload. That means posting will be erratic. However, I have ideas of the type I would like to post often. So, an average of at least one post a week.

I have a wide varitey of interests. So, I will post on a wide variety of topics. Possibly: learning, teaching, thinking. behaviour, analogies, books, libraries, words, meanings, performance, stress, assessment, study, community, history, reenactors, morality, religion, and I'm sure many other erratic and unpredictable things. I will probably not write about popular culture or current affairs at all.

I think a lot, and talk to people about what I think, and read all sorts of sources about what I'm interested in. A large portion of what I write will be without factual backing, or at least factual backing I can find, and will be based instead on common sense and thought experiments.

This blog will not be about what I do. It will be about what I observe and discover and most of all, what I think.

A Piece of String

A piece of string, at first, looks useless,easy to throw away, not worth keeping. But those who keep some with them find uses for it in odd places, which could not be forseen. String can fix broken things or tie things together. It can be combined with more string to make longer, stronger string. It is utterly forgettable, completely innocuous, and one of the simplest technologies in the world. It comes in many different types. You would be hard pressed to find a place without string.

Knowledge is like a piece of string. Simple, useless at first glance, but there are thousands of reasons to keep some with you, if you think about it. I carry string in my pocket, I hoard it, and wind it into great skeins. As one of those of us who love string, I lament for those who don't. String is remarkably handy.