The grand plan for Aber was to graduate as quickly as I could. I planned to complete as many modules as I could in the first year, I don't know what's going to happen with my job or what the priorities will be for Marsh and I in the next year; a good first year, I thought, and we'll hope the momentum will keep me going. So what's changed? In my initial meeting with my tutor she gave me the impression that only superpeople complete in the two years, okay I thought, I'm disappointed but I'll take your advice. I then received a 'phone call from the Open Learning Unit about an unrelated matter- I wish I could say a sundry matter, because I love that word- they asked if I was coming back for the September study school. Bemused, I said I didn't know about that, thinking about my tutor's warning of 200 study hours per module, the lady on the other end cajoled me in a way that made it seem very possible. Now I'm not some kind of academic wunderkind, and I'm sure that neither my comments from the floor nor my participation in the study school group exercises would have marked my card as a glowing hope for the future. But despite the fact that I'm not a superperson, the lady on the other end of the 'phone seemed to think it was possible to complete enough modules to return in September, and she thought I, despite my lack of cape, was capable of doing it too.
I thought about this for a while. The conclusion I came to is that both of them are right. The first two assignments are relatively self explanatory: a journal review of a resource and an essay on the module's topics. I could knock out an answer to both of them in a day; the answers wouldn't be great and there'd be very few references (which account for 10%) of the marks, but it is possible that they would pass. Next! Would I have learned anything though?
Shamefully the attitude I've had to this qualification for quite some time is that it's my 'piece of paper'. "I can't get to the next level because I've not got my piece of paper", "there's no point in me applying for this post if I don't have the piece of paper." I wouldn't say I've shown the qualification contempt, but neither have I afforded it the respect it deserved. My experience of going to Aber and taking part in the study school brought that to light. I enjoy my job and am passionately interested in my profession; study school was four days of being able to share that enthusiasm and interest with others. I no longer felt like I was one of the few out there discussing the profession; I found allies, allies who said clever things and shared their experiences from the world outside academic library.
So, unexpectedly, I'm not going to rush through this degree as fast as I physically can. I'm going to take some time to read, to think, and to explore the issues. Not just because going to Aber has changed my mind about a library Master's, or about returning to education as a grown up- there's a whole other story there. I'm going to take my time because I'm interested and because I want to learn; I don't just want a piece of paper.
If I do end up back at study school this September, so be it. It won't be because I've blindly barrelled through the modules at lightning pace, it won't be because I've suddenly become a superperson, it'll be because I've been interested. So interested in fact, that I'll have ruined my summer by staying in to study.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Aberystwyth, mon amour!
I've returned, in one piece, from Wales. I was dreading it. Didn't want to go, didn't have time, thought I'd rushed into it, that the course wouldn't be as good as the full-time ones, that people wouldn't like me... you name it: and I was wrong about it all.
If it was possible to be keener and more excited about libraries: I would be. The week left me invigorated, confident, and eager to get stuck into the first module. The other students and staff were so friendly and encouraging and the place... well, I never expected to be charmed by it. Utterly, utterly charmed.
I spent a decent amount of time at the beach, and got my feet wet in Cardigan Bay. Cardigan Bay!- why would you want to do a library degree anywhere else? It has a funicular railway too, and you can't have a funicular without fun... or, icular... you get what I mean.
Beer was also good: Brains Black comes highly recommended, especially from one who doesn't normally venture to the dark side.
One of the real high points was our Welsh lesson, never has a language class been delivered with more passion and enthusiasm. The experience of joining 26 other trainee librarians singing My Hat it has Three Corners in Welsh, very loudly, will never be forgotten. So thank you Aber and Aber folk: you cheered me right up!
Picture
[General view, Aberystwith, Wales]
[between ca. 1890 and ca. 1900].
1 photomechanical print : photochrom, color.
Notes:
Title from the Detroit Publishing Co., catalogue J--foreign section. Detroit, Mich. : Detroit Photographic Company, 1905.
Print no. "10524".
Forms part of: Views of landscape and architecture in Wales in the Photochrom print collection.
Subjects:
Wales--Aberystwyth.
Format: Photochrom prints--Color--1890-1900.
Rights Info: No known restrictions on reproduction.
Repository: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print
Part Of: Views of landscape and architecture in Wales (DLC) 2001700652
More information about the Photochrom Print Collection is available at hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.pgz
Persistent URL: hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ppmsc.07342
Call Number: LOT 13408, no. 006 [item]
If it was possible to be keener and more excited about libraries: I would be. The week left me invigorated, confident, and eager to get stuck into the first module. The other students and staff were so friendly and encouraging and the place... well, I never expected to be charmed by it. Utterly, utterly charmed.
I spent a decent amount of time at the beach, and got my feet wet in Cardigan Bay. Cardigan Bay!- why would you want to do a library degree anywhere else? It has a funicular railway too, and you can't have a funicular without fun... or, icular... you get what I mean.
Beer was also good: Brains Black comes highly recommended, especially from one who doesn't normally venture to the dark side.
Stunning beer shots courtesy of Jessica Holland.
One of the real high points was our Welsh lesson, never has a language class been delivered with more passion and enthusiasm. The experience of joining 26 other trainee librarians singing My Hat it has Three Corners in Welsh, very loudly, will never be forgotten. So thank you Aber and Aber folk: you cheered me right up!
[General view, Aberystwith, Wales]
[between ca. 1890 and ca. 1900].
1 photomechanical print : photochrom, color.
Notes:
Title from the Detroit Publishing Co., catalogue J--foreign section. Detroit, Mich. : Detroit Photographic Company, 1905.
Print no. "10524".
Forms part of: Views of landscape and architecture in Wales in the Photochrom print collection.
Subjects:
Wales--Aberystwyth.
Format: Photochrom prints--Color--1890-1900.
Rights Info: No known restrictions on reproduction.
Repository: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print
Part Of: Views of landscape and architecture in Wales (DLC) 2001700652
More information about the Photochrom Print Collection is available at hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.pgz
Persistent URL: hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/ppmsc.07342
Call Number: LOT 13408, no. 006 [item]
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Lake District Vignettes: Beer- the starter
In Which Marsh and I drink beer solely for the benefit of you, dear reader. Here I set the scene using unecessarily floral language to evoke nostalgia.
Ahh, the Northern pub! Cosy, dark rooms lit by reproduction gas-lamps and a coal fire. Horse brasses and bedwarming pans glister in the firelight as couples supping from barrel glasses enjoy quiet conversation on red velveteen banquettes, but all this is extra, why we're really here is to experience that wonder of the North: a pint wi 'ead on't.
Now I was raised in the North, when my Dad took me for my first pint I was presented with a ruby elixir topped with just a cream of foam, cool to the touch and a treat to the lips. As you drank, the head slid down the inside of the glass; the concoction, I was assured, would put hairs on my chest. In those salad days it never occurred to me that I was one of the fortunate ones, that in the south, particularly in East Anglia, they were bereft of the quiet pleasure of gazing into the foamy shapes left on the inside of the glass.
Here in the East the head of your pint disappears somewhere between the landlord pulling it and it arriving at your lips. You clearly see it forming as the pint is pulled, but so delicate is this head that it swoons out of existence before it's even had a chance to give you a comedy moustache. The East Anglian head, or frog eyes to its friends.
Last year Marsh, myself and 38 other lesbians temporarily took over the village of Castleton in the Peak District. We descended on one of the local pubs without warning; the bar staff wore slightly confused looks on their faces all evening, one young lad's ears burned red all night, but on the plus side they sold plates and plates of food and gallons of ale. Keen to try the local brew Marsh and I took our time at the bar and got chatting with the staff asking for their recommendations. Mid way through our 'try before you buy' session a local came to the bar and eyed up the guest ales. 'Adnams' Broadside' declared one of the pump clips, "I'll try one of those," he said. Marsh and exchanged looks. He left seemingly happy, but soon returned. He thrust the frog eyed pint under the barman's nose, "that's not right!" he said. The barman cleared his throat, "it's from down South; it's supposed to be like that." The man looked at his pint. Sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere, and for some reason feeling responsible, we backed the barman. "All East Anglian ale has that kind of head," Marsh said. "Yeah," I offered, "we call it frog eyes." We might as well have been from Klingon. The barman rushed to the rescue with a sparkler and forced a Northern head onto a half pint of the stuff: it weakly fought for life. By this point all the colour had drained from the man's face 'that's just not right,' he repeated. I could tell by the tone that he didn't mean the taste, he meant the morals of it, the very physics of it. This wasn't a man with a duff pint, this was a man taking his first sup of East Anglian ale. I saw myself nine years ago and shuddered. Ever since then, the prospect of a Northern pint fills me with tears of gratitude.
Join me again soon for Beer- the main course, when I'll actually get round to telling you about the beer we had.
Beer- it'll put hairs on your chest
Emporia (Lyon county, Kansas, United States) inhabited place
Environmental Protection Agency
Project DOCUMERICA
Persistent URL: http://arcweb.archives.gov/arc/action/ExternalIdSearch?id=557043
Repository: Still Picture Records Section, Special Media Archives Services Division (NWCS-S), National Archives at College Park, 8601 Adelphi Road, College Park, MD, 20740-6001.
For information about ordering reproductions of photographs held by the Still Picture Unit, visit: www.archives.gov/research/order/still-pictures.html
Reproductions may be ordered via an independent vendor. NARA maintains a list of vendors at www.archives.gov/research/order/vendors-photos-maps-dc.html
Access Restrictions: Unrestricted
Use Restrictions: Unrestricted
Ahh, the Northern pub! Cosy, dark rooms lit by reproduction gas-lamps and a coal fire. Horse brasses and bedwarming pans glister in the firelight as couples supping from barrel glasses enjoy quiet conversation on red velveteen banquettes, but all this is extra, why we're really here is to experience that wonder of the North: a pint wi 'ead on't.
Now I was raised in the North, when my Dad took me for my first pint I was presented with a ruby elixir topped with just a cream of foam, cool to the touch and a treat to the lips. As you drank, the head slid down the inside of the glass; the concoction, I was assured, would put hairs on my chest. In those salad days it never occurred to me that I was one of the fortunate ones, that in the south, particularly in East Anglia, they were bereft of the quiet pleasure of gazing into the foamy shapes left on the inside of the glass.
Here in the East the head of your pint disappears somewhere between the landlord pulling it and it arriving at your lips. You clearly see it forming as the pint is pulled, but so delicate is this head that it swoons out of existence before it's even had a chance to give you a comedy moustache. The East Anglian head, or frog eyes to its friends.
Last year Marsh, myself and 38 other lesbians temporarily took over the village of Castleton in the Peak District. We descended on one of the local pubs without warning; the bar staff wore slightly confused looks on their faces all evening, one young lad's ears burned red all night, but on the plus side they sold plates and plates of food and gallons of ale. Keen to try the local brew Marsh and I took our time at the bar and got chatting with the staff asking for their recommendations. Mid way through our 'try before you buy' session a local came to the bar and eyed up the guest ales. 'Adnams' Broadside' declared one of the pump clips, "I'll try one of those," he said. Marsh and exchanged looks. He left seemingly happy, but soon returned. He thrust the frog eyed pint under the barman's nose, "that's not right!" he said. The barman cleared his throat, "it's from down South; it's supposed to be like that." The man looked at his pint. Sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere, and for some reason feeling responsible, we backed the barman. "All East Anglian ale has that kind of head," Marsh said. "Yeah," I offered, "we call it frog eyes." We might as well have been from Klingon. The barman rushed to the rescue with a sparkler and forced a Northern head onto a half pint of the stuff: it weakly fought for life. By this point all the colour had drained from the man's face 'that's just not right,' he repeated. I could tell by the tone that he didn't mean the taste, he meant the morals of it, the very physics of it. This wasn't a man with a duff pint, this was a man taking his first sup of East Anglian ale. I saw myself nine years ago and shuddered. Ever since then, the prospect of a Northern pint fills me with tears of gratitude.
Join me again soon for Beer- the main course, when I'll actually get round to telling you about the beer we had.
Mounted Horsemen, One Relaxing with a Can of Beer, Await the Start of the Parade in Cottonwood Falls, Kansas, near Emporia It Is a Part of theFlint Hills Rodeo, a Major Cultural Event of the Area...06/1974
Original Caption: Mounted Horsemen, One Relaxing with a Can of Beer, Await the Start of the Parade in Cottonwood Falls, Kansas, near Emporia It Is a Part of the Flint Hills Rodeo, a Major Cultural Event of the Area. Horses and Cattle Trucks Are the Featured Modes of Transportation. It Is a 19th Century "Cowboy" Town in the Heart of the Kansas Flint Hills Region, and near an Area Designated as a Possible Site for a Tall Grass Prairie National Park 06/1974 U.S. National Archives’ Local Identifier: 412-DA-14591 Photographer: Duncan, Patricia D., 1932-
Subjects:Emporia (Lyon county, Kansas, United States) inhabited place
Environmental Protection Agency
Project DOCUMERICA
Persistent URL: http://arcweb.archives.gov/arc/action/ExternalIdSearch?id=557043
Repository: Still Picture Records Section, Special Media Archives Services Division (NWCS-S), National Archives at College Park, 8601 Adelphi Road, College Park, MD, 20740-6001.
For information about ordering reproductions of photographs held by the Still Picture Unit, visit: www.archives.gov/research/order/still-pictures.html
Reproductions may be ordered via an independent vendor. NARA maintains a list of vendors at www.archives.gov/research/order/vendors-photos-maps-dc.html
Access Restrictions: Unrestricted
Use Restrictions: Unrestricted
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