Posts Tagged ‘ university ’

Flatpack university


The University of Doom is running out of space.  Not just for its library books, which continue to laugh at all vain attempts to get the collection to fit on shelves, but for its students, for living space and teaching space.  The library situation is being addressed, in the form of a swanky new Learning Resource Centre which will be built, eventually, on the present site of an ugly concrete monstrosity of an office building from the mid 20th century.  This being an old town with more History than you could shake any number of sticks at, this will involve an archaeological dig at the site before reconstruction begins, and the destruction of the building is already behind schedule, so it is most definitely the ‘mythical new learning centre’.

The students are a rather more tricky proposition.  A large herd of them has been stabled in accommodation belonging to one or other of the London universities, which randomly has a satellite site in a small town which is only three stops away on the train.  Free transport is provided (in horseboxes for all I know) and I’m sure that every effort is being made to ensure that these youngsters don’t feel too cut off from the rest of the student body.  A series of e-mails also came the way of all staff of the University, imploring us to offer any accommodation we could in return for a farthing or two.  Sadly, given that my house is (due to a mad conversion project, transforming it from a dental practice to a shared home) mostly a large pile of boxes with a few beds hidden here and there, I didn’t feel I could help in this matter.

Teaching accommodation is also at a premium.  Local residents have been remarking for years that we seem to be buying up half the property in the city, and it is true that our logo appears on a wonderfully random selection of buildings and we may well rival the cathedral for ‘most property owned’.  But no matter how much the University buys, it never seems to be enough.  Particularly when a new room bookings software package is purchased and then throws a wobbly, hiding bookings under the sofa and behind the fridge every so often.  And so, this week, the University of Doom has begun the wonderful process of dealing with the problem.  Temporarily.

A fleet of flat-bed lorries has been making its way through the twisty turny streets with the shells of mobile classrooms on their backs.  Fantastically air-conditioned, as they have no side walls, these have been winched by crane over the flint walls that surround the campus and moved into position.  However, it was observed on Friday that there seemed to be far more mobile classrooms arriving than could possibly fit in the two places which have been set aside for them – the back of the student support services building and the tennis courts.  No, no more tennis for anyone – I’m sure the Sports Sciences department doesn’t mind.  Even assuming that side walls are going to arrive for these classrooms, what are they going to do with them?  Pile them up on top of each other and allow access via rope ladder?  Float one on the pond?  Set up an outpost in the neighbouring prison’s exercise yard?  The mind boggles.  The Head of Library Services suggested that it looked like they were setting up a very large-scale game of Jenga.

The University, needless to say, seems to have been surprised by this space crisis, as one assumes it would have been more useful to address the issue in August.  The cause seems to be a mystery as well.  Not to library staff, though.  We spotted a slight clue in the most recent staff newsletter.  “Record student numbers recruited.”  I think that may have something to do with it…

Higher education = Big Brother?


It has occurred to me that there are disturbing parallels between my work in the Library of Doom and the world of so-called ‘reality’ television. Both provide a vital social service, but the populace at large is probably blissfully unaware of this. We keep strange people out of the workforce and off the streets for a period of time, contributing to the overall sanity of the nation.

I do not watch reality shows very often, but it is sometimes unavoidable due to friends, relatives and housemates who devour them greedily, thrilling to the exploits of the publicity-hungry folks these shows tend to attract. Increasingly, the cast list of these shows (I’m looking at you, Big Brother) largely consists of strange, unpleasant people who I’m very glad I’ll never have to meet. For anything up to three months, these people are locked away in a secure environment, meaning that their interesting social skills are only inflicted on a dozen or so people. Thankfully, it seems that the British public decides en masse that nice people should win these shows as often as possible. And also, I have to admit (grudgingly, mind you) that Big Brother has probably done wonders for tolerance, acceptance and inclusion, in that the past winners have included a gay man, a male-to-female transsexual, a working class chappie and even, of all things, a practicing Christian.

Higher education performs many roles, but at least where I work, it fulfils the same vital function as reality TV. I see disturbing numbers of people every day with bafflingly low levels of knowledge, intelligence and common sense, people who surely could not function in the workplace. For three years, or possibly more, we shield society from these people and attempt to teach them the skills they’ll need to survive. We try to show them how to think for themselves, demonstrate how to interact in polite society and force them to fend for themselves without mummy or daddy to cook, wash and clean for them. “How long can you borrow a 7-day loan for?”  “Have you got any photographs of the Great Fire of London?” And of course the brick wall people, who make you feel like you’re either talking to or bashing your head against said edifice. Don’t you feel glad that the valiant staff of higher education institutions are keeping these people away from the rest of the world and at least attempting to turn them into functional members of society?

Maybe the analogy’s not valid, but it struck me recently, so I thought I may as well share it.

The trouble with students


I think I’ve worked it out.  The trouble with students these days is that they don’t really come to university to learn any more.  They come to be taught.  And there is a difference that goes beyond spelling and transitivity.  You see, I think it comes down to money.

Students today have to pay an awful lot of money to come to university, and they’re not shy about reminding you of it.  ‘I pay your wages’ is a relatively frequent cry of the man, woman or monster who isn’t satisfied with the responses to their questions.  To a certain extent, I suppose that could be true, but each student probably only pays me a penny or two per month, so I’m not all that worried.  However, they do indeed have to pay a lot of money to come here.

So they expect to be taught, not to learn.  They want to know what the answer is, not how to find out what the answer is.  They want to be told what to think, not how to think.  In the library, they want the three books on the reading list and nothing else.  No reading around the suject, which was one of the most interesting parts of study for me (and I’m only 27, can things really have changed that much?).  No forming of opinions.  No righteous anger at social injustice.  Just an endless frustration, for they all want the formula for how to get a first class degree handed to them on a plate, and most don’t understand that such a formula is impossible.  It’s about curiosity, imagination and reason.  It’s not about regurgitating facts A, B and C in the correct order.  It’s about disagreeing with your tutor and arguing your case, not blindly accepting what they say.  Or at least it should be.  Or is it just me?

 There are exceptions, of course.  The students who really want to learn, who want to expand the boundaries of their world view, who deliberately seek out authors with views that contradict their own.  And these are the students who make working in a higher education library worth while.  They are few and far between, but they bring a smile to my face like a breath of cool breeze on a muggy day.  The enthusiasm to learn is a rare and precious thing which needs to be encouraged.  If only I could work out how to do that…

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