we love it!

The Sun has a slogan - "The Sun. We love it!" and once in a while they do something that makes me think that they might be right. Today they were thinking of ways to enliven the process of page layout and came up with this little gem. Whoever it was that placed the photo of Cameron and Obama above the ad for New Look footwear must have been bored. A bored genius.

changing ties

I don't know whether it's a sub conscious thing or just stupidity - but I have developed an unfortunate habit when it comes to choosing which tie to wear to work.

I used to hate wearing ties. As a pupil, and then as a young teacher I found them restrictive and conformist. I wanted to teach in a knitted turtle neck and Che Guevara beret. I railed against the idea that a piece of fabric tied, noose-like, across my adam's apple somehow illicited authority or respect. It appeared unfair to me that female teachers seemed able to wear whatever they wanted while male teachers (excluding PE staff of course - but then can they really be considered teachers?) were required to wear a shirt and tie. I didn't see the point.

I still don't see the point. Honestly I don't. I will fix anyone who claims that we instinctively imbue people in ties with more authority with an icy stare. It isn't about the tie - it's about looking smart and professional. Whether I'm wearing a tie or not is immaterial.

But I'm bringing back the tie. Not only do I wear one with a suit to work, weddings, church, going to court - I've started wearing them on nights out and soon I hope to introduce them to my day-to-day attire. I'm not doing so to appear sagely or mature - in the same way a tie can't overcome my inherent untidiness it could never fool anyone regarding my levels of maturity. I'm doing it because I've come to see value in wearing something pointless.

Everyone needs to put on something that serves no purpose whatsoever - not because they have to, but because they can. Go on. Wear a cravat, a flower in your hair, an elastic band round your wrist, a broken pocket watch, an empty briefcase, a key chain full of redundant keys; carry an umbrella - but never open it.

In the meantime I will wear a tie to school because it is expected of me. Which brings me back to my unfortunate habit. As I look at the pupils in front of me it occurs that their ties look awfully familiar. The shade of green, the red diagonal stripe, the black accents - I'm wearing a tie that is almost identical to the school uniform tie. Vaguely embarrassing coincidence maybe - except I have form. This has happened before at two other schools. So far the pupils here have been too polite to mention it. The pupils had no such coyness in one of the previous schools. In that case the pupils took only seconds to ask with massive grins, "How come you're wearing the school uniform?" They continue to remind me any time they see me in the real world - three years later.

It's only a matter of time before someone does comment, so I better get my excuse ready - maybe something about the value of doing something for no reason?

shapes and sounds

What is the most powerful thing you can imagine? Nuclear weapons? Stars? Planets? Emotions?

It'll come as no surprise to anyone when I reveal that I truly believe there are few things as powerful as language. It's the kind of thing I'd say in a job interview, but it also happens to be true.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.

John 1: 1-2

I love language. It fascinates me, it intimidates me, it terrifies me. Many of you already know this - so why am I describing my fixation all over again? Well, shocking as it may seem, not everyone shares my view. Some people actually see truth in that old saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me." But why?

In my opinion it has a lot to do with the diet of limp, flavourless drivel we are spoon-fed and which we spoon-feed those around us. Honestly, I am no language ludite wishing we still spoke Jacobite english. I recognise that language evolves and I embrace the fact. It shows that language is an organic thing - and something living is always more powerful than something inert.

As a teacher I can see the reason behind simplifying language and what can happen when people use language to exclude certain members of our community. But I also see the need to constantly challenge our understanding of the world though increasingly complex questioning.

For everyone who partakes only of milk is unskilled in the world of righteousness, for he is a babe. But solid food belongs to those who are of full age, that is, those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil.

Hebrews 5:13-14

The more we simplify the language the more we remove the colour and the power of those words. Let me give you an example from the world of education. Take a look at this monologue. You may have read it before; it is the moment Romeo first sets eye on Juliet - a moment that changes his character profoundly:

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!


It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!

So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 


As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 
The measure done,

I'll watch her place of stand, 
And, touching hers,

make blessed my rude hand. 


Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! 


For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Now read the modern translation from a text book I picked up in a classroom this morning:

Oh, torches look dim beside her! She embellishes night time like a rich jewel in an Ethiopian’s ear – too beautiful for everyday use, too valuable for this world. She stands out like a snow-white dove amongst the crows.

Once the dance is over I’ll see where she stands and make my rough hand blessed by touching hers. Did my heart know real love till now? My eyes need look no further: I hadn’t seen true beauty till tonight.

I do understand why it is helpful to simply the language for young students (and atleast this translation didn’t cut most of the speech completely the way Baz Luhrmann did in his film version.) The most common complaint I hear in school about Shakespeare is that they “don’t understand what he’s on about.” It is testament to the power of the language that they, without perhaps always understanding the meaning of every word, could still experience the control and power contained in them.

And therein lies the evidence for my views of language. The power contained is threefold – the message carried, the knowledge shared, and the very living words themselves. You must surely agree with that if not with my final assertion that the greatest of these three powers is the third. I won’t force you to believe that the shape of words, the sound of words, this is where the beauty lies as much as in the message. In fact you are more than welcome to disagree about the power of words at all. I will happily consider your argument – as soon as you work out how to present it without language.

reasons why I'm single (part 4 of a 78 part series)

I admit that most of the reasons in this series are to do with my social ineptitude; but once in a while it isn't my fault. Every so often I get to blame someone else's social ineptitude.

I went on a blind date a short while ago. Until recently the very idea of that statement would have brought a little sick up in my mouth - but I've given up worrying about these things now and I was at a loss for something to do.

I say it was a blind date but actually I had met the woman before. I knew her to be incredibly intelligent, attractive, complex... unreliable. So when I arrived at the restaurant right on time I wasn't surprised to receive a text from her saying she was running late and I should just go on in and wait. That's never a good look - the sitting at a restaurant table by yourself knocking back glass after glass of sparkling spring water; so I didn't. I checked at the desk to make sure the table was in order and, since it was a pleasant evening, waited outside for my date to arrive.

While I was waiting I people watched. There are three restaurants very close together at that end of Coleraine and they were all really busy. I watched an arguing couple arrive and make their way into one of the restaurants - the wife ordering her husband not to make a scene "like the last time." I watched a little old lady, so stooped that her face seemed inches from the ground, struggle to get out of a volvo - the young driver (her son?) making no effort to help her and seemingly growing impatient at her difficulty. I watched a car arrive at some speed and cruise round the car park looking for a space. There was only one and a mercedes in the next bay was over the lines, making the available bay tight - maybe too tight. The driver thought it worth a try anyway and began to squeeze into the space. 'She'll never make it at that angle' I thought aloud. She didn't - but that didn't stop her trying. Seconds later there was a gut wrenching screech as her black car scraped along the metallic silver paint job of the Mercedes.

There was a pause. Then, instead of pulling out and trying a better angle, the driver pushed further forward and the screeching started up again. My teeth were on edge just watching it from 20 yards away. Eventually the driver gave up and pulled out to change the angle. It was then that I noticed I hadn't taken a breath for a while - so I took a quick gulp of air. The driver changed the angle and went in for a second attempt. And got it completely wrong again. The screeching began even sooner than the previous attempt and sounded, if anything, louder and more painful. And there was no pause this time. The driver pushed on through until she had squeezed her little car completely into the space - and left a huge scar in its expensive neighbour.

The stooped old lady had witnessed the whole thing, and with a look that suggested she may know the owner of the Mercedes, took off surprisingly quickly to inform them that their car had been abused. In some cruel, twisted way I was enjoying the spectacle and began to hope my date would be a bit later so I could see what happened next. What did happen next was that the driver of the little black car was clearly spooked by the old lady sprinting for the restaurant, and pulled out of the space, scraping up the side of the Merc one last time - in reverse - before taking off round the back of the building. Seconds later a large, red faced man came running out of the restaurant and practically began to wail when he saw the side of his car. The old lady was at his side and was looking around, searching for the black car. I too looked to see where it was hidden. It was then that I saw it, parked round the side of the restaurant, and my date was getting out of the drivers seat.

With barely a flick of her hair and a deep breath she made her way to the restaurant, her long elegant strides seemingly effortless, even on some of the highest heels I'd ever seen. As I met her by the door she proffered her cheek for a kiss and apologised for being late, saying she'd "had a little trouble finding a parking space."

I was dumbstruck. We went on to have a lovely meal, full of incredible conversation - and all I could think of was what she'd done to that car - and just how easily she was able to act like nothing had happened. There is no doubt that she is an amazing person, and whoever she chooses to share her life with will be one incredibly fortunate man - but I knew there and then it wouldn't be me. How could I go out with someone knowing that the more I saw her the more chance there'd be that the car beside the only available parking space would someday be mine.

three observations about losing weight

There are three observations I would like to give you in terms of weight loss if I may.

Over the course of the past four months i have been trying to shed a few pounds in an effort to take some control of my health and raise a bit of money for charity in the process. I just about managed to squeeze past my target of 20kg and it was an amazing feeling.

It has to be said, however, that I did become somewhat addicted to the supportive/flattering comments I received from those around me. I'm worried how I'll deal with the inevitable slowing down of these bite-sized ego boosts over time. I must find something to fill the void - suggestions welcome.

My new found vanity expresses itself in many forms: I definitely spend more time looking in mirrors; I walk with a straighter back, simply because my chin looks better that way; I tuck my shirts into my jeans - just to show I can.

It would be trite and overegging to describe the past few months as life-changing - but personality changing they have definitely been if nothing else. And actually not all good changes. I am certainly proud of achieving my targets - the fact that it was such a struggle makes the pride all the sweeter; I am certainly more positive about my self image and indeed my health; but, sometimes when I catch myself studying my reflection in a shop window, I pull up short and wonder what on earth was it all about.

In my mind I am 100 times more attractive, but I am certainly no looker even now. In my mind I am 100 times healthier, but my published ideal weight is still a good 20kgs further south. In my mind I am 100 times fitter, but I still struggle to run more than a mile.
I have a long way to go yet and, if anything, these next targets will be tougher than the last. I want to succeed. I want to be able to buy fashionable jeans rather than any that happen to fit me. But I don't want to feed that ego any more than it needs fed.

So, before I forget what I'm doing, my three observations:
1) Targets are always easier to achieve when they've been set by someone who knows you better than you know yourself. They are also easier to hit when you keep your eyes open.
2) Water costs nothing, is sugar free, and if you drink enough of it you start to like it. On the other hand coke is actually ridiculously expensive, has more sugar than Jamaica, and (much to my amazement) when you return to drinking it after a break of four months it tastes utterly repulsive.
3) Encouragement is important - but fawning flattery is destructive. Learn to listen to compliments with a discerning ear.

Having said that, don't stop with the flattery. I'd miss it.

not in my name

The death of Ronan Kerr, a year 25 year old man from County Tyrone, rocked Northern Ireland on Saturday. When a bomb exploded under his car in Omagh the news sent a shudder down the spine of the country that I haven’t experienced for a long time.

When I heard about it I was on a film set sixty miles away near Ballynahinch. During a break in filming I took out my phone to check the BBC website and saw the headline “Policeman killed in Omagh car bomb attack.” Immediately the words 'Omagh' and 'bomb' were enough to bring back awful memories; and then when I continued to read the story it shook me for a moment. I debated whether or not to tell the rest of the cast and crew there and then or wait until filming had ended for the day. It all seemed a bit raw and close to the bone.

It was something of a dreadful coincidence, you see, that around four o’clock – about the time the bomb went off under Constable Kerr’s car – I was playing the part of a policeman in the RUC during the troubles. I was surrounded by people who were, or had been, directly affected by the traumas imposed on the Police back then. One scene in particular involved me being filmed checking below my car for a bomb. To me it had been a little bit of screen business to carry out twelve times from four different angles – to the officers back then it was a routine that could be a matter of life and death.

Do we really want to return to such a time of paranoia and fear? Where lack of trust makes us suspicious of strangers? Could we really feel proud of a society where our police officers have to check below their cars before every journey – where they have to walk down streets in pairs – where they carry rifles and wear body armour if they leave the confines of police stations fortified by huge security walls and netting? Do we feel the need to return to a time where random searches and check points are needed?

I remember those times, and not with a nostalgic smile. The idea of returning to them – or anything like them – fills me with dread. However it seems some others (who may not even have been born at the time) don’t have those same memories. Perhaps they have built up some kind of idealistic, glamorised view of the past – minds filled with causes, and honour, and calls to arms. Surely if they had lived through it they’d know just how little honour there actually was back then.

This action and those responsible for it must be totally rejected. I am calling upon those involved to stop, and to stop now.

-Gerry Adams – Sinn Fein President

So it was with relief that I saw just how much outrage there was over Ronan’s murder – from all sides of the community. As politicians, public leaders, church leaders, sporting figures, journalists, celebrities, bloggers… everyone, united against the people who carried out the killing; as social networking sites lit up with messages of support and condolence for his grieving family; as GAA players and fans (not known in the past for their love of the police force in Northern Ireland) observed a minute of respectful silence for one of their own who also happened to be a police officer; as rival politicians united to speak out in support of the peace process… I allowed myself to feel a glimmer of hope that this young man’s death would not be in vain.

The people of the Bogside are angry this morning [about the graffiti], they have been angry since Saturday, just like the rest of the north. They do not deserve to be tarnished with this and the good name of PC Kerr does not deserve to be tarnished like this.

-Pat Ramsey SDLP MLA

If those who planned and carried out this young man’s death (and those ignorants who daubed the sickening graffiti lauding it in the Bogside area of Derry) realise that the rest of the population don’t see them as plucky little underdogs fighting against the malevolent colonial oppressors, but as a pariah, an evil, backward anomaly in a society that is trying to move forward. If they see that then I hope Ronan’s family can take comfort from the fact that, in his death, Ronan changed attitudes and helped lasting peace take a foothold in our troubled little province.

It is difficult to comprehend how a young man with the best interests of our community at heart, and who contributed so positively to our community, could be attacked in this way. His death demeans humanity and is detrimental to the development of a shared future based on mutual respect.

-GAA statement

Today we finished filming, and my time as a policeman came to an end. It’s a decent little movie – touching and quite thought provoking – but I doubt many, if any, of you will ever see it. And I doubt it will change society greatly. Today Constable Ronan Kerr was buried – I pray that his courage in life and in death will leave a much more important and lasting legacy. Actually, call me an optimistic fool but I have a feeling it just might.

--

image is nothing - thirst is everything

In today’s society, young people care more about external appearance than inner character.

A year 12 class I’m covering have been set this as a discursive essay title. It’s not bad as titles go – plenty of material to work on. But if I’m honest, the whole experience has scarred me a little.

The discussion we had about the issue was extraordinarily enlightening, slightly depressing, and intensely terrifying. Kids today – these ones at least – are completely obsessed with image, to the extent that they don’t see the need, nor want of looking any deeper. Everything you need to know about someone can be gleaned without delving any further than dermatologically deep.

I explained to them that their attitude worried me – that, if personality and character didn’t count in the world, I was screwed. It got a laugh, but I was only half joking.

In a class of eighteen girls and two boys the criteria for dating was ‘hotness’ (fair enough), for friendship was 'attractiveness' (hmmm), for career success was 'presentation' (could be argued I suppose), for success in life – 'appearance' (oh dear.)

I found it sad that the popular set were putting their successes down to their looks; and sadder that the rest put their status down to lack of looks. Maybe that’s the crux of it all. Maybe it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. Conceivably a perception of attractiveness could lead to greater confidence, in turn helping to achieve success. And on the other side of the coin, a lack of confidence resulting from a perceived lack of attractiveness could be a stumbling block on the road to achieving potential.

As the discussion progressed that was the conclusion the group seemed to reach anyway. They went on to explain that it’s not about what you’ve got, it’s about what you do with it – a statement vague enough to worry me for a moment. I chose to take a positive message from it.

So maybe I shouldn’t despair of modern youth culture just yet. Maybe there is hope for them yet. Maybe there are hidden depths that will work their way to the top with time and maturity. Maybe these teenagers will come to rate the true character traits and values as much as the packaging in which they come.

The conversation was certainly becoming much more reassuring – right up to the point where one of the girls looked at a builder who was erecting a security fence outside the window, and exclaimed loudly,
“Oh! He’s hot!”