Month: November 2013

Parklife

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Our park has become a Queen Elizabeth II (QEII) Field.

I say our park. Edgar’s Field is a public park but it feels like our front garden.

It’s the place that offers sanctuary on dark days, tantalising brushes with nature as the seasons change and endless hours of playground fun for the girls as they clamber over the pirate ship and soar skywards on the swings.

It feels like home.

Last week a shiny, silver plaque was attached to the railings outside.

The park has been granted QEII Field status, an award from the Fields In Trust organisation, following nomination by the local community.

It basically means the park has greater protection. If you want to build on it now, you now have to answer to her Maj.

I’ve written about the importance of our park before. Twitter stalwart Outdoors With Dad often posts parklife ideas around Edgar’s Field. And blogger Mark Charlton has also spoken up for his local park in his blog, View from the Bike Shed.

We take our parks for granted. But we shouldn’t.

Parks form part of the fabric of life that makes us feel secure.

I still remember the park I played in as a child, the rocking motion of the horse-shaped seesaw.

Maya and Olivia may not realise it now but the innocent moments, playing in our front-garden park, may prove to be some of their most comforting childhood memories.

They will never know more freedom than reaching for the sky on the swings on a crisp autumn morning.

We’re lucky. Our park’s future looks safe and, buoyed by its new-found status, the local community group is now aiming higher.

It is looking to establish a lookout on the park’s Weathervane Hill to take in the twin-bridge views of the Grosvenor and Old Dee bridges, plus to soak up the nature thriving amongst the lime trees.

Love your park.

We do.

Gazetteer

Friends of Edgar’s Fields

Fields in Trust

View from the Bike Shed: In Praise of Parks and their Keepers

Outdoors with Dad

Liked this? Try also New Year Blessing.

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Story of the week: National Tree Week in Cumbria

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* As National Tree Week gets under, here’s a more recent piece about appreciating our forests and natural landscape. Follow me on Twitter, or subscribe to the RSS, for more update.

My two little girls read about forests in their storybooks.

We go walking and play at Goldilocks. But we’re not exactly living off grid in urban Chester and, while we enjoy days out in the forest, we know little about the woodland ecosystem. Let’s just say that Bear Grylls is not exactly watching his back for the Atkinson clan yet.

That’s why, with school holidays kicking in, Maya (seven), Olivia (three) [pictured above in Cumbria with my dad] and I have come to Whinlatter Forest, a Forestry Commission site in the Lake District with healthy communities of Red squirrels, Roe deer and nesting ospreys, for a back-to-nature weekend of forest trails, Lakeland views and heaps of fresh air.

Whinlatter, England’s only mountain forest, opened a group of family-friendly trails a few years ago to introduce children to basic navigational skills, learn about the forest and interact with nature.

Adventure trail

By looking for clues or collecting answers along the trails, it encourages even very young children to interact with the forest and find their own way from one interpretation panel to another.

On a sunny day in July, we opt for the Squirrel Scurry Trail, a moderate, one-mile hike around eight interpretation points. The girls have to read the panels and answer questions along the way, writing their answers on the trail map to win a squirrel badge.

It’s a trail suitable for easily tired toddler legs and also accessible by buggy.

Adrian Jones, Recreation Manager at Whinlatter, meets us at the Visitor Centre for a crash course in map reading and compass points. “I feel free in the forest,” says Adrian, leading us towards trailhead marker of a carved red squirrel.

“I first started going to the woods with my father and grandfather as a boy,” he adds. “That’s how I became hooked.”

As we delve into the deep, dark coniferous forest, Olivia decides we’re going on a beer hunt. After all, we are walking through a shaded woodland glade straight out of a story by Anthony Browne or Michael Rosen.

“We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it,” she sings. “We’ve got to go through it.”

Maya, meanwhile, is taking charge of directions, folding out the map and scouring the horizon for waymarking posts as we head north. “This way,” she says, “Follow me.”

The woodland copse feels deliciously cool away from the mid-afternoon sunglare and we savour the sensory forest feast with pine combs crunching under foot, birdlife in the trees and wafts of wild flowers drifting by tantalisingly on the summer breeze.

As we climb towards panel three, a viewpoint known as The Comb, the full widescreen panorama opens out before us. From our vantage point some 1,000ft above sea level, we gaze out across Keswick and Derwentwater below, and Helvellyn to the south.

Fact finding

Maya locates the panel and makes light work of the questions while Olivia busies herself collecting daisies and buttercups from beside the scrunchy, gravelly trail. By the time we move on, we’ve all learnt that grey squirrels were brought to England from America in the 1870s and baby squirrels are called kittens.

We head towards an intersection of walking and mountain biking trails, where Tarbarrell Moss, one of the more remote sections of Whinlatter, leads deeper into the forest.

Maya decides we need to turn left for the next leg, dropping down through Western Red Cedar and past tree-hanging squirrel feeders, stuffed with nuts, corn and seeds, to duck under a squirrel rope bridge between the treetops.

Maya confidently leads the way, map in hand, along the final stretch. Even Olivia is finding her bearings as I carry her for a higher-level view of forest life, attempting to point out species of trees along the way and revealing my decidedly patchy knowledge in the process.

Memo to self: download the ForestXplorer app with the tree identifier before the next trip.

Wild play

By this point I’m ready for a slap-up dinner and a pint of Jennings Cooker Hoop but the girls have got other ideas. After a round of ice creams at Siskins Café next to the Visitor Centre, we head back to the WildPlay Trail, Olivia making a beeline for the Fairy Kingdom section.

We finish the afternoon leaping between toadstools, opening concealed-bark doors in the tree stumps to reveal fairy goodies and playing in a tree house, Olivia having set up an al-fresco café to sell Maya’s foraged ferns, leaves and berries from a makeshift hatch.

Bear Grylls shouldn’t start sweating just yet. But, after a weekend of squirrel trails and fairy dust at Whinlatter, we’ve come to appreciate the fragile beauty of the forest and the time we spend together exploring it.

This story first appeared in the Guardian in 2013. Liked this? Try If You Go Down to the Woods Today.

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Story of the week: Santa Congress in Copenhagen

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* So, 37 days to Christmas then. I’ve delved back in the archive on a Christmas theme for an early freelance story from Copenhagen. Follow me on Twitter, or subscribe to the RSS, for more update.

* Photo via AP.

Paradise Yamamoto is running late.

He’s got jetlag having just come off a plane from Japan, a rip in the pants of his Santa suit and one of his bongos is missing.

But there’s no time to worry now. It’s 9am on a sunny July morning in Copenhagen and the official opening ceremony of the 39th annual World Santa Claus Congress is about to get underway.

Back home in Tokyo, Paradise-san lives a double life.

Not only is he an accomplished bongo player with his own Latin club nights and CD back catalogue, but he has quickly risen through the ranks to become Japan’s leading – indeed only – mambo Santa.

Today he will be flying the flag for Japanese Santa power while bashing out a Latin rhythm with the assistance of his trusty helper, Rudolph-san, dressed specially for the occasion in a fetching crotch-hugging jump suit and tinsel ears.

“OK,” he beams, securing his stick-on beard, “let’s mambo. Ho ho ho.”

Summer summit

While in Britain we bemoan the arrival of Christmas lights and grottos hot on the heels of Bonfire Night, the spirit of Christmas comes especially early each year to Bakken, an Art Deco amusement park north of downtown Copenhagen – exactly six months before Santa’s big day to be precise.

This uniquely festive gathering made its debut in 1963 as a slightly incongruous one-off event in Bakken with Santas from across Denmark coming together to play games, swap ideas and kick off the countdown to Christmas against a backdrop of green fields and sunny skies.

It proved such a success that organisers made it an annual event. Today the Santa Claus Congress is a truly global event.

Over 120 bone fide genuine Santas from countries as diverse as Greenland, Venezuela and the Congo (this year, Great Britain was conspicuous by its absence) come together for a three-day festive get-together that is part corporate bonding session, part harmless – albeit slightly surreal – fun.

“The Santas are too busy to met up and talk shop in the run-up to Christmas itself.”

“This event allows them to raise the burning issues and resolve conflicts before the Christmas rush,” dead-pans Tina Baungaard, one of the event’s organisers.

As I watch the assorted Santas, Mother Christmases and token elves registering for their name badges, I learn from Tina that Santa Congress has a serious agenda like any other trade fair or conference.

Amongst the topics for discussion at this year’s talking shop are EU moves to standardise Santa footwear sizes, concerns that hard-working reindeer are increasingly hard to come by and fears that false beards are spoiling the good name of Father Christmas.

The year’s burning issue, however, is a motion tabled by the Spanish contingent to have Christmas Eve moved to January 6.

The Scandinavian Santas, who celebrate December 24 as the main day of Christmas with presents at midnight and a large family meal, are said to be incandescent with rage at the prospect. At least, the ones whose faces I can see under a mountain of greying facial hair appear to be.

The formalities and introductions dispensed with, the Santas are gathered together on a makeshift stage overlooking the park’s fast food stands to break the ice with some Santa tai chi exercises.

I find myself standing next to a man flipping hot dogs in a burger van who looks as if the sight of around 100 middle-aged men in red fluffy suits and fake beards exposing copious amounts of bum cleavage is an everyday occurrence in the Danish countryside.

For me, however, such a wanton display middle-aged spread puts me right off breakfast and leaves me pondering ‘who ate all the mince pies.’

Serious talk

After a spot of dancing round the Christmas tree, we form an orderly procession and, led by a troupe of what can only be described as Santa bunny girls whose costumes set some of the old codgers hearts perilously racing, we head down to Bellevue Beach for another annual congress tradition: Santa paddling.

En route, I get talking to Toshi Kawanuma from Japan who describes himself as Inamoto Santa in homage to the Japan World Cup star and is making his debut at this year’s event.

According to Toshi, behind the smiles and talk of goodwill to all men, professional rivalries and jealousies run rife in the backstage area with Santas jostling for the position of Santa of Honour. It is, prsumably, like being backstage at a Milan catwalk show – except with fewer eating disorders and bigger knickers.

“I feel I have to prove myself as I’m new here,” says Toshi, rubbing his stubbly upper lip.

“That’s why I bleached my moustache white – to show them I’m serious about being a proper Santa.”

“It really hurt,” he adds despondently.

Back among the inner circle of anointed Santas, however, the mood is ebullient.

Indeed, by the end of the first day, the good people of Copenhagen have been subjected to semi-naked Santas bathing, a procession of Santas running riot along Stroget (the main pedestrian shopping street) and a pre-Xmas open air concert in Town Hall Square complete with carol singing and generous helpings of ho-ho-hos.

For even a Christmas cynic like myself, the infectious atmosphere has me fighting an overwhelming urge to rush out and deck the halls with bales of holly.

Christmas cheer

But before I leave the Santas to their serious discussions to be conducted behind closed doors, we all have one last appointment – a Christmas dinner in the town hall hosted by Bente Frost, deputy leader of Copenhagen City Council.

As the Santas hang up their suits and make a beeline for the turkey drumsticks, I go to take a picture of one Santa in civvies talking on his mobile phone.

“No pictures,” he snaps at me, “we’re off duty now.”

And a very merry Christmas to you too.

* This story first appeared in The Big Issue in 2002. Liked this? Try The Holy Grail of Hotdogs in Copenhagen.

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MSc Technology and Learning: Minds on Fire

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* This is the third post as part of the Technology and Learning series. See the teaching pages for more posts.

There was spluttering in the ivory towers this week.

Dr Alex Hope, Lecturer in Sustainable Development and Project Management at Northumbria University, posted on his blog, Dr Sustainable. It was subsequently picked up by the Guardian’s Higher Education Network.

He wrote:

I suspect that the academic of the future will not be tied to an institution but be a thought leader, communicator and teacher undertaking a range of activities on a freelance/contract basis – and that the world will be a better place for it.

The comments section fizzed with indignation and pomposity but I suspect he hit a nerve.

We’re all heading for portfolio careers – lecturers and learners alike. The old guard may not like it, but a job for life is now a concept as outdated as Betamax and MiniDisc.

Community care

This is nothing new.

Brown, J. S. and Adler R. O. were talking about it in 2008 in their much-quoted article, Minds on Fire. In fact, the section on future careers was the element that particularly resonated with me personally.

I shared many of the views expressed, especially about the need for new models of teaching to prepare learners for the kind of working life they will lead in the near future, and felt enthused by the idea of joining “a community of practice.”

They write:

In this open environment, both the content and the process by which it is created are equally visible, thereby enabling a new kind of critical reading—almost a new form of literacy—that invites the reader to join in the consideration of what information is reliable and/or important.
Sign me up, I say.
Although I do worry about the example of allegedly good practice they cite from David Wiley of Utah State University. whereby students posted material deliberately on public blogs. Okay, it forces them to think about posting more responsibly, but, given I’m dealing with a group of inexperienced journalism students, the words ‘defamation’ and ‘libel’ are ringing in my head like a  repeat-loop car alarm.
Future learning
The section about the “long tail in learning” made sense. The endless choice of online courses, as opposed to the constrained financial-imperitive choices of a physical university, offer a strong case for e-learning.
I did struggle, however, with the concept of “reflective practicums” and how this relates to “closing the loop”. As somebody coming into academia as an industry practitioner, I’m sure Dr Hope will understand my frustration sometimes with too much talking and not enough simply getting on with it.
But my major reservation lies with the concept of Learning 2.0 and the “open participatory learning ecosystem”.
The theory is valid. “We now need a new approach to learning—one characterized by a demand-pull rather than the traditional supply-push mode of building up an inventory of knowledge in students’ heads,” write Brown and Adler.
That’s great. But I still have final-year students who need a room-based tutor to explain to them how to put one foot in front of another, let alone their assignment due in before Christmas. There’s a generational shift needed from early-years education upwards, I suspect, before learners I encounter will be ready for Learning 2.0.
Get ready
But it will come. And I, for one, hope to be ready for it, fitting in my teaching – of course – between the range of other activities that will form my ever-evolving portfolio career.
Dr Hope is probably getting ready for it, too.
At least, he will be once he has finished fielding all those coffee-spluttering comments at the bottom of his blog.
Further reading

Minds on Fire: Open Education, the Long Tail, and Learning 2.0

The role and place of the academic is changing – and it’s a good thing

Dr Sustainable