Not funny, really not funny, this also reinforces the stereotype that
academics are smart alec know it alls with not enough to do, perhaps he is
after Laurie Taylor's backpage job - I hope it sends OK, David, you have my
sincere commmiserations
Chris Baxter
Gary Day
Gary Day
Published: 29 September 2006
I did think of writing about a document someone from somewhere gave me
recently entitled Supporting Students with Learning Differences and
Disabilities but didn't want to spoil your enjoyment by giving away the
ending. At this point you might exclaim: "Hang on! Are you saying that this
publication is a work of fiction?" Well, it's certainly not a thriller, I
grant you that. Let's just say that Hollywood shows a better grasp of
history than this does of, oh, many things.
In a way I suppose it's closer to philosophy. Supporting Students could
easily take its place alongside masterpieces such as Arthur Schopenhauer's
On the Suffering of the World; except that is written by a well-meaning
committee rather than a confirmed pessimist. So, although the document
recognises that "people rarely get through life without experiencing
difficulties", it does at least offer advice on how to deal with them. For
example, when someone is distressed "hand them tissues and wait".
And, unlike some philosophical works, it's very good at explaining things.
Do you know why you cry? It's because you occasionally
feel "frustrated", "tired" and "confused" - perhaps brought on by having to
read documents such as this. Indeed, the more I read the more difficult it
became, just like a real piece of philosophy. I felt I couldn't "cope", I
felt "humiliated".
Especially reading the section on how to manage "the angry student". I
checked the title. Supporting Students with Learning Differences and
Disabilities. No, it hadn't changed. I must be thick then. Because I just
can't work out how shouting at Shakespeare is going to make you learn why
Iago behaves the way he does in Othello.
I have made better progress towards understanding why anger can be a
liability when you are trying to learn, but I am still struggling with the
idea that it's a disability. I will persevere.
Although whether this will be enough to enable me to grasp simple
instructions for dealing with "the angry student" is another matter. Maybe
you can help.
Picture a young scholar in a towering rage. Your first reaction may be one
of delight that such a creature is capable of animation at all. But let
that pass. Nor do we need to know why he or she is coming at you with a
chainsaw. This isn't method acting, it's staff development. It makes no
difference if it's because their course has been cut or because they like
to watch beheadings on the internet.
The point is, he's mad. Head thrust forward, eyes blazing, arms extended,
chainsaw screaming. Got that? Good. Now, can you make sense of the advice
given for dealing with this situation? "Adopt a non-threatening posture.
Match the student's posture." I have paced the floor at midnight pondering
this. As I have Health Secretary Patricia Hewitt's argument that closing
hospitals actually improves services. But the only thing it has got me is
blisters.
So I gave up on that and moved onto the next bit, entitled "What to do if a
student seems mentally disturbed". Now I thought the whole point of
university was to disturb students mentally, to shake them up a bit, to
make them see that there is a world elsewhere. Wrong again. If they show
any signs of intellectual life, which I agree is unlikely after the
schooling most of them have had, then they are regarded as suitable cases
for treatment.
Still I ploughed on. I read about how to support someone with attention
deficit disorder. Wait a minute. That's me, surely? I have all the
symptoms. My mind kept wandering from disclaimers about "not dumbing down"
to what was for tea. I read about Asperger's syndrome. That's me, surely? I
have all the symptoms. Like most academics my thinking is "rigid and
inflexible". I read about dyscalculia. That's me, surely? I have all the
symptoms. I too have "difficulty in keeping track of time" and as for
my "reading of maps", well. And there were still another six disorders to
be described. I couldn't go on. My sense of reality was fracturing.
"No, it's not you," laughed my new friend the giant giraffe, "it's them."
He said that whoever wrote these documents assumed academics were so stupid
they had to be told that one of the reasons people eat is because they felt
hungry. "If they have so little sense of the intelligence of their
audience, how can they possibly have any idea about the syndromes they
describe?" I was about to reply but then remembered I wasn't going to write
about this document. Yet I have. Odd that. I do the things I don't want to
do, and don't do the things I do want to do. I wonder if there's a name for
that condition. Oh yes, of course. Life.
Gary Day is principal lecturer in English at De Montfort University.
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