The Horror of Hirsch

It is all becoming clear.

Before shining a light on this illumination [do see my previous posting] I want to state on the one hand I was keen and pleased to have my instinctive prejudices confirmed, and on the other, I did actually pause to reflect as objectively as my deep-rooted educational antibodies would allow and question whether I was too quick to confirm.

No, not too quick.

The healthy instant signals were in Gibb’s article from Knowledge and the Curriculum where, in addition to himself, he cites supporters of Hirsch’s views as Michael Gove – well, that’s the first nail – and then a person who he describes as one of a ‘new generation of British educators’, Toby Young! Yes, that’s the journalist who resigned from a position as non-executive director on the board of the Office of Students because of his offensive tweets.

It only takes two big and nasty nails some times.

Without feeling any need to justify/qualify, that is enough for me. I have listened to/read plenty from people like these over many years to abhor their views on education and the positions of influence they have held in which to wreak damage because of this.

More broadly, Hirsch’s knowledge-based curriculum is clearly the influence for content and direction in the recent Ofsted Curriculum Workshops where for the English curriculum in particular a ‘Big Vocabulary’ policy is being promoted and, for example, touted with Hirschian zeal by Bradley Simmons HMI, Regional Director, South West. Hearing him speak was quite enough to alienate me.

It is, quite simply, a ‘more is more’ philosophy: more knowledge leads to more everything; more vocabulary leads to more everything. If you are a Tory, this will clearly appeal as a fundamental desire.

Having just re-read Gove’s ‘anti-Mr Men’ speech [here] again, I didn’t find Hirsch mentioned, but there are numerous self-serving and obnoxious references to content and knowledge – carefully selected and in many cases probably made-up – that show where the influences come from. Again, I acknowledge my prejudices, but surely the most judicious and objective read will spot the rhetorical machinations over evidence this tirade delivers?

Oh, and by the way, no, I am not saying knowledge isn’t important! Don’t be so stupid.

What I am against is making knowledge the legend upon which the mythology is written.

So, for example, what do I mean by the preceding comment and its seemingly clever assertion? I am playing primarily with the term ‘legend’, linked obviously to ‘mythology’, but I use it more as its implication of inscription and wording on a map – signposts to something. Knowledge of that definition would help unpick my satire and suggestion. But there are ways to arrive at that knowledge, and that is the ‘problem’ of a curriculum, as I see it, perceived from simplistic notions of ‘knowledge’ by Gibb and other numbnuts.

Yes, it is much deeper than this, both my embrace of what ‘knowledge’ is and why we need that, and the other of the other knowledge junkies.

So much of what Gove and Gibbs and others like them see in their knowledge-led curriculum is the teaching of something that can be easily tested and then measured. Oh yes it is. And in that simplistic drive, skills and creativity and other aspects of learning are pushed aside.

Oh yes they are.

That’s my knowledge.

SPaG CFRO

But there is another factor that he [Alex Thomson of the University English association – my note] and others believe has played a bigger part in putting students off English. And that’s what is happening to the subject in schools, where spelling, punctuation and grammar (referred to by the acronym SPaG) have, under the core knowledge curriculum championed by schools minister Nick Gibb, come to dominate. Education consultant Myra Barrs is among the critics of what she calls a “new formalism”, in which content and meaning are sacrificed to a recipe-type approach (take an adverb and some wow words, add a pinch of unusual punctuation …) You don’t have to be against the traditional staples of grammar or Shakespeare to see the pitfalls of this, or the constricting effect of the enormous importance placed on GCSE grades.

This is from Susana Rustin’s article Why study English? We’re poorer in every sense without it in yesterday’s Guardian here.

Her argument is more expansive than this – and do read – but I have highlighted because SPaG and similar is a critical presence across the English curriculum and assessment at all ages [and therefore teaching, naturally] and it is something I have continually attacked on this blog.

The diminishing of experience in the English curriculum imposed by the philistine Michael Gove as then Education Secretary also continues its negative impact. Then there is the target culture that hasn’t disappeared, despite suggestions of it waning.

I am now making my way through the document Knowledge and the Curriculum highlighted in the opening paragraph and will no doubt become increasingly enraged. It may not be so much the theories of E.D. Hirch [though these undoubtedly will] but the endorsement of that other Tory educational moron Nick Gibb* who has the audacity to make this prerogative for himself

No single writer has influenced my thinking on education more than E. D. Hirsch. Like any book which becomes seminal in one’s intellectual journey, I distinctly remember the first time I encountered Hirsch’s work.

where this self-claim to being cerebral – as well as about education – is so often patently obliterated by the stupid things he actually says, for example, when making defenses/explanations of English Key Stages 1 and 2 testing.

*Nick Gobb, Schools Minister, who gets this apt re-naming because the letters ‘i’ and ‘o’ are next to one another on the keyboard, so this genuine error and accident of meaning [as in the creativity of being found] makes more sense above and beyond the ‘knowledge’ of his actual surname.

Writing Poems about Haircuts Poem

I am writing found poems about haircuts.
They are provisionally titled Hirsute Verse.
I started with Meet Me at McDonalds as a contemporary, satirical piece and have moved on from there.

I so far have, in alphabetical order:
Barbershop Quartet
Barthes’ Brando Cut
Beehive
Chicago Crew-Cut
Comb-Over
MM@M
Sweeny Todd.

Chicago Crew-Cut has caused me to pause and rethink.
I am trying to include too much personal detail, rather than only found ideas:
memories of my uncle who I think lived in Chicago.
He had a basement room with a barber’s chair.
My dad would take me there on family visits – but it can only have been once or twice, a long way from Omaha.
The uncle would give me a crew-cut.
At the end he’d also scrub my head very hard with a rubber bristled brush.
I think it was meant to ‘make me a man’.
I think it was simple abuse, but not as bad, obviously, as that can be.
And not Gacy or Todd [that’s a line I forced in].

And can you see?
This detail intruded far too much.
So I am considering banning the project.
But I could just remove that poem?

I think I still want to do
Pompadour and Bouffant. But it is that kind of thinking that is making me think again.

Perhaps at 64, nearly 65 years old, that rubber bristled brush is why I still have hair?
Wouldn’t that be weird?
The benefits of brutality.

Is this why I grew my hair long as a teenager and beyond?

Maybe this is an important ‘theme’.
But the poems were losing their found spontaneity.
I was determined to use a line about a crew-cut as no pomp and all ceremony – this latter about the basement ritual.
And that’s ‘pomp’ as in ‘pompadour’.

You see, too clever-clogs.
Too premeditated.

I prefer this dirge
just to get it out there.

A catharsis.

A prosaic cut.

Flat-top.

Billboards’ Special Hell

Donald Tusk’s recent ‘special day in hell’ comment initially appealed to me as the fierce emotion was correctly addressed to those many who incited for Brexit with no more idea than prejudice, fear-mongering and self-interest.

Afterwards I did consider it undiplomatic, obviously, and most likely to merely further fuel the ‘sovereign sycophants’ with a continuing small-minded notion of interfering and arrogant Europeans.

Whatever, hell is a mess of the here and now and, without question, of the Brexiters’ making. The latest evidence of this is Grayling’s cancellation of the Seaborne Freight contract, an obvious mess of an ‘idea’ made at the time and only delayed in cancelling [having been immediately and rightly pilloried by the press] to avoid, as much as possible, the further bad press of admitting the pitiable mistake of that time. Sadly, that delay probably works: people are worn out by the hellish day to day of the continuing mess, and Satan is laughing his pants off because even if he doesn’t actually receive any eventual recruits, it is too evilly fucked-up to ignore and not enjoy.

Much more galls me than this, not least May’s and others’ [including Corbyn] continuing ‘excuse’ that we persevere with Brexit and a deal and/or another deal because it is the ‘democratic will of the people’. This has been one of the most nefarious of tag lines to desperately crawl along, and these following billboard posters of Brexiters’ lies [or subsequent ironic realitities – like May’s] that had such a power to persuade, will fully endorse, too good not to share further as the most cogent – and upsetting – illustration of what Tusk, rightly or wrongly in terms of diplomacy, was articulating – [view as a slideshow]:

 

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[from and credited to the Guardian here]

Many Red Fish – Steve Spence, Knives Forks and Spoons Press

redfish - Copy

Jim,

there are fish, but not as we know them. There are many things, but not as we know them too. There is order and yet chaos as well. But there is his knowing, and we have to boldly go with it because that is why we are here, isn’t it?

It is.

We could discuss accessibility and such but this would miss an important point that I trust emerges more as I progress. I think these poems can seem challenging to read, but not for that bugbear of ‘complexity’ where complexity is for its own sake rather than as a reflection of something significant, and intentionally so, as with these poems.

If I was to say at the start these are ‘found’ poems that would set a context by which any perceived challenge in their reading would be explained and ‘accepted’. And they are found poems, but not as random – not that found writing has to be random – as this can suggest. Indeed, these poems are meticulously structured on the page: there are 39 poems, each with 8 stanzas and each stanza has 3 lines.

But to cut to the chase, the apparent randomness of the writing is reflective of a found technique [indeed, the back cover blurb tells us the poems are ‘produced through a mixing of word association, montage techniques and strange juxtapositions’] and accepting/acknowledging this is to read them without certain usual expectations, expectations like following an obvious narrative line. It is also to not see them as a challenging read. When I quickly stopped looking for obvious connectivity I was freed to simply enjoy the ride.

The first poem An even break will serve as a perfect illustration. The opening stanza is

‘Using big data to diagnose problems and predict
success is one thing. Yet there is no other path
and a key responsibility includes cooking with gas.’

This represents a familiar, though not exclusive, pattern throughout the poems: one line that has no connection to another, in this case the following line. The word ‘Yet’ actually suggests a link – this grammatical caveat – but the ‘cooking with gas’ is a complete surprise, and all the more fun to read for that.

The next stanza is

‘What’s your water source? Hopefully, people will
always subvert things yet we also found that parental
consent forms were inadequately completed.’

It might seem that ‘water source’ could be connected to ‘gas’ [in the context of utilities…] but it isn’t, and it is simply a matter of our expectations as readers. This becomes an early example of the ‘strange juxtapositions’ of that blurb but also a signal to relax as readers! It is quite likely also an indication of what it means to ‘subvert’ – though in a world of fake news and evasive truth, these poems mirror the disconnections we face each day in understanding, and as found items of that daily reality they perhaps are pieced together with more clarity of the real than the comfortable illusion we would expect/hope for.

Apparent snatches of conversation, signalled by italics in the poems, suggest other ‘meanings’, as in the third stanza

‘I’m not texting nobody. I can’t concentrate
on the bus. There’s too much noise. Just wait
‘til we get to town and we’ll sort it all out.’

and here is a narrative thread of sorts, but it is not necessarily a part of anything else in the poem. It is a part of the montage that makes up this opening poem.

The closing stanza is quite simply humorous as a construct,

‘It was a close-run thing and we remain unsure of
the implications. Peas can be frozen and will taste
delicious when defrosted. This swim is fizzing with fish.’

Why peas?

Why ask?

Jim,

there’s the fish ‘fizzing’, but why aren’t they red?

The point is not to inquire. Are these Birds Eye peas or a store-brand version? It doesn’t matter but they seem to use the same advertising.

Where there are connections, these might be said to be comic/absurd. In the second poem A closed door, the opening stanza presents

‘With her front legs resting on the surface and
her back on the reeds she waits. Like many
others we listened again to Lou Reed’s music.’

and this is the ‘word association’ of that blurb, though I think it is more indicative of, on the one hand, an overall playfulness, and on the other, the nature of our everyday reality where we are bombarded by sensory experience and encounter that sometimes merges and sometimes obfuscates and sometimes makes sense.

I could happily continue to illustrate from many poems but I simply want to recommend this collection for its innovation and positive, enjoyable challenges – ‘challenges’ I hope I have expressed as ways of reading and expecting, though most if not all familiar with Spence’s poetry as well as collections from Knives Forks and Spoons Press won’t need me to exemplify ways of reading contemporary, ‘alternative’ poetry.

I’ll close on one other poem from well into the collection, A lingering message. I don’t think there is anything like a gradation of meaning and/or internal connectivity as we read though the poems, but this one resonates with all the elements I have briefly alluded to. The opening stanza, in italics but not as obviously a snatch of conversation as I earlier suggested [!], sets a question, of sorts, that seems to get ‘answered’ in the following one where actual quotation marks indicate speech/conversation [this description essentially given to illustrate the silliness of trying to explain]

‘Are we marching towards a sunlit fungal future?
Here’s a tip for pole-fishing fans. For the rest of us
the drama and the violence of the sky is enough.’

‘“Isolation breeds hostility,” he said. Yet the
consciousness of rivalry was always there and
these conflicts are about different values.’

and I’m going to contradict myself – but I would like to think I am now at one with the poetry – by stating that this seems to have more significance than peas.

Later we read

‘“It’s unethical, it’s not illegal,” she said. A slew of
fungal technologies is creeping out of the woodwork
while the madhouse remains firmly rooted in the past.’

and I am thinking it just happens that what is found and montaged here reads more intensely as subject-matter than elsewhere. The unethical that is not illegal may indeed be the madhouse of justification for all that is rotten today in behaviour and excuse and disguise from those in power. That it is ultimately disguised in the madness of all the other competing snippets merged in these poems may be their very essence of revelation.

And in the penultimate stanza we find humour again

‘He rose from the table and was surprised to see
his own image in a great number of mirrors at the
same time. Ah! – we have a distinguished visitor.’

Reading is of course an accumulative effect. These poems as individual findings and joinings in eight stanzas can seem disconnected, but the repetitions across the pages are echoes that build and suggest. Just read Reef madness and Like no other and you are immersed in the richness of what they say as a part of the whole drive to them. You learn too – not that these are lessons – that there is more fungi than fish.

Jim,

why isn’t the collection called ‘Many Red Fungi’?

I think it is because fungi does not have fins. But stop calling me Jim.

For details where to order, go here.