Time for the new academic year to get going. Behind us, as I took this shot, the latest clump of aspirants, our objects of care for this year — the new students. Ivy tries to outline the scale of it all to colleague Mark. I think we’re ready for the whistle.
During this week at the London Rare Books School I have felt privileged to be taught by Professor Michelle Brown, second from the left here. What an awesome fund of knowledge she has, seemingly knowing absolutely everything that happened to everyone before about 1500 AD. Like being taught physics by Richard Fenynman, and the sort of experience that you just ain’t gonna get through Zoom, sorry.
When academics grow up they still behave as their students do: sitting at the back and hoping no one picks on them for input. I wonder how many chairs there are at the University: tens of thousands I imagine. Perhaps the entire student population could sit down there at once, but many of them would definitely be visible at the front.
A tough assignment today. Online classes late in the afternoon then another in the evening meant I couldn’t go out. The world outside was grey and dull — though at least, still light, at approaching 8pm. This is the kind of day that will eventually kill the creative spirit in me, and thus, this blog. But here’s my best effort.
Before 2020 I never minded doing online teaching, because it offered variety, and was not the only game in town. But there are limits, and I probably reached mine about this time last year. Fortunately, a sense of Real Normal has largely returned. This particular class was always designed to be an online session — when it works, use it, when not, get face-to-face. Steve, one of my PhD students, peeks his face out from his virtual cell.
This has been my life for days, and will be for some time to come. This is not even a Covid thing; this endless increase in my workload is presented as something inevitable, a sign of success even. Four years ago there was a third of this number.
Another day with little to record except my further Zoombification, along with much of the rest of the planet. It’s nearly Christmas, which of course will lead to radical change in the current shape of life. But at least I won’t have any Zoom meetings for two weeks.
For the first time since the 6th March, face-to-face contact with actual University of Manchester students. And even then I should apparently not have been doing this. However, I’ve kinda stopped caring. I like this picture because it was just the shot I wanted to take when I pressed the shutter, and I got it on the first attempt. Mug, mask, maze of wires and all.
After yesterday’s explosion of freedom, a day spent entirely at home and mostly marking. Here, however, are my notes as to how the next teaching semester is going to pan out, following instructions from the holy of holies (UoM) regarding how they see Paranoia transitioning back to a sense of reality. We start teaching late October, apparently — and some face-to-face. I welcome that. But it’s still months away.
I don’t often do work colleagues in their natural habitat but Andrea (who is Italian, so presents his name like that) made a fetching scene in front of a blackboard filled with stuff that I don’t really understand. I was a learner for an hour today.
Being 42 