The Bleeding Obvious

Today the local media excels itself in the statement of the bleeding obvious.

Tanya Chilcott displays a blissful ignorance of human psychology in the opening statement of her vacuous piece about the tabling of information already available on the website of every Queensland school.

She points out that -

NOT one Brisbane school had all students above the national benchmark for every category in state-based numeracy and literacy tests for 2007.

The capital letters are hers.

Now when I studied child development at Kedron Park Teachers’ College in 1966, I learned about the curve of normal distribution. Unless basic human psychology has changed radically in the last fifty years, this curve still holds.

Put simply, the graph of distribution of Intelligence Quotient shows that there are very many average people, few very dull people, and few very bright people. The inverted U-shaped curve is the graphical representation of this mathematical truth. This is quite clearly reflected in the data distribution as displayed in the comparative tables in the Courier. It shows that in every Brisbane school, there are some students who fall on the left side of the continuum.

What a surprise!

This simple phenomenon of human performance is obviously lost on Tanya. I doubt that it is lost on her readers, who for years have managed to make school choices without the assistance of the Courier Mail.

Without delving too deeply into these out-of-date statistics (they’re 2007 figures), it is clear that what they do show is the strong correlation between Socio-economic status and school performance.

If the Courier devoted more column space to the pressure applied to teachers by the politically-driven testing regime (NAPLAN) distracting them away from the business of teaching and helping kids to learn, they would indeed be providing a public service.

As it is, they’re simply selling newsprint.

Not on the Test

Today Queensland teachers go on strike for the first time in more than ten years.

I remember the last one. I was a Principal at the time, and a member of the Queensland Teachers’ Union. After retirement, I’m no longer a principal, but am still a teacher and have maintained my union membership.

I don’t always agree with the QTU, but support this action. It has been taken as the result of a secret ballot, so the rank and file are behind it. It’s probably not going to be effective, as the money simply isn’t in the state treasury, but teachers in this state are being shafted.

I’m pretty sure that if you polled teachers in Queensland, they wouldn’t rate salaries as their major concern. They’d talk about the politicisation of education, the lack of support from parents and community, and the onslaught of the plaintiff lawyers. This trinity of factors has made the profession so much less attractive than it used to be.

The retention figures bear this out. We’re losing teachers (especially young ones) at a rapid rate. Industrial action gets the issue into the public eye, but that’s about it. If the Union and the government got together and started talking about the quality of the lives of teachers and the necessity to support them to do what they do best, more would be accomplished in terms of getting the best results for kids.

Improvements in training, resourcing, and critically, the mentoring of beginning teachers would make a difference. There also needs to be some serious tackling of the lack of gender balance in the profession. There is a role for affirmative action to improve both the quantity and quality of male teachers. Like it or not, there’s a strong link between the misbehaviour of young males in schools and the dearth of male teachers.

The introduction of standardised testing is not the answer. In fact it is one of the main factors increasing malaise in the profession. NAPLAN* (or Napalm as most teachers call it), has had the effect of creating lots of hype, bureaucracy and stress. Teachers are “teaching to the test” (surprise/surprise). No doubt the next set of results will show an improvement, simply because the kids are learning how to complete the test – but that’s all that will improve.

Little or nothing will change in terms of improving the literacy and numeracy of individuals. It will, however, keep the pollies (and some sections of the manic media) happy.

One of the aspects of the principalship that I don’t miss is the management of industrial action itself. Principals are usually monstered by the regional and district administration to keep the schools open and report on the number of teachers striking.

These same principals are members of the union, so are also bound through basic ethics to support the action of their teachers if the strike is supported by the majority. My action during the last strike was to refuse to cooperate with providing information of teacher intention to the District Director. I asked my teachers to send individual emails to District Office advising them of their intention. They all did so.

I turned up on the day itself, but donated the day’s pay to a charity, and wore a sticker staying “I am on strike”. It was necessary to be at the school physically in the interests of keeping everyone safe and helping parents who were in a jam. It didn’t make me popular with the District Director, but was the only way I could maintain personal and professional integrity.

Integrity and professionalism are slowly being squeezed out of teaching by our governments (both federal and state) following the worst aspects of the American system.

Hence the American video. (Just click the word "video" - thanks to my music teacher sister).

*National Assessment Program – Literacy and Numeracy

Bloody Leaves

As I was raised north of the tropic, I find more seasons than two a mite confusing.

Back in Carmilla, there was only ever the Wet and the Dry. It was very simple and symmetrical.

You spent half the year mowing and clearing encroaching vegetation, and the other half trying to keep it alive.

Here in the garden city, it’s more complicated. We have something approaching a Northern hemisphere autumn and spring, as well as the other two. This is picturesque (even spectacular – especially in the spring) but some elements of it leave me cold (excuse the bad pun).

One of these is the bloody leaves. My wife loves the Japanese maple that grows in the front of our home. For ten months of the year, I don’t mind it, as it does the usual tree thing of standing there looking green. During May and June, however, it goes feral and drops what seem to me tonnes of pretty brown leaves everywhere. The prevailing South-Easter gets hold of them and blows them into the front of the house and the garage where they rot and decay and generally mess up the place.

This means that I have to rake them almost daily. This is not fun. Once raked, they have to be put somewhere. They are not particularly useful as mulch, and take up lots of space. Bagging them means they can be stored, but what then?

They’re aromatic, and smell good when dry and put into our wood fire, but you need to dry them well or lots of white smoke results and we don’t get a new Pope, no matter how much I wish we did.

Glenmorgan

Staying with the vintage/veteran motoring theme, I’m posting some shots that I took at Glenmorgan last week.

Click on the images to get a good look.

Glenmorgan isn’t really on the way to anywhere in particular, but it can be an interesting destination in itself. A local bloke with the time and resources necessary has set up a museum to things automotive on the road through the township.

It features vehicles from the forties (mostly military) through to the early sixties. What makes it unique is that they are presented as if they’re on sale in a used car lot.

The Ford V8 Ute shown was one of a batch that was requisitioned. They were sedans when taken over by the military, but were smartly converted to Utes. The one displayed was used in Darwin and New Guinea. I remember my dad who served in the RAAF in New Guinea talking about these Utes. He was mightily impressed.

It is possible to imagine that you’ve slept through the last fifty
years or so when you look at the display. It’s also completely surprising, as there is nothing to suggest that it’s there until you turn the corner into the township.

There never seems to be anyone about – it reminds me of Canberra in that sense.

I’m usually on my way to Surat, itself an interesting spot.

Cars and Planes and Stuff

Last Sunday was David Hack Classic day in Toowoomba. The uninitiated should check here.

This is always a good day, but this year was amazing, despite GFC, AGW and SFP*.

I took the Mazda along to display it. It’s not vintage, but in my book is a classic. Any machine that’s depreciating more slowly than my Super, is by my definition, a classic.

Besides, you get in for less if you display, and it’s not a bad excuse to sit in the sun, read the papers and talk cars and aeroplanes.

I was surprised at the interest shown in the MX5, although not a lot of it was well-informed. One Gen Y character asked me if it handled well because of the “front wheel drive”, and was more than a little surprised when I pointed out that front engine – rear drive was the configuration.

The variety of machinery displayed was the best I’ve seen anywhere with the possible exception of Birdwood (SA), but there weren’t any aircraft at Birdwood.

Aircraft on display were a range of warbirds including Trojans, a Winjeel, and a number (don’t know the collective noun) of Yaks. Here was a wooden DH Dragon Rapide and there some Tiger Moths. The Aerotec hangar had its usual fantastic display including Guido Zuccoli's Fiat G-59-4B.

The dapper-looking chappie who flew the Winjeel up from Point Cook wasn’t persuaded that this breed of aircraft was used in the artillery spotting role until 1975.

I know it was. This is because the skipper (platoon commander) flew in one doing exactly that when we were training for tropical warfare in the sleet and mist in the Putty area in 1969. As I recall, the aircraft at that time was based at Williamtown. It’s not wonderful in that role, despite being very robust. The low wing and lack of agility don’t help.

I didn’t bother arguing. He came across as a bit like a number of bloggers (usually sharply inclined to the right) who derive their understanding of recent history from doubtful written sources, and place more trust in them than a primary source who has actually lived the real experience.

There was a contingent of Alvis owners, some from the UK, who had flown their cars across. Beautifully crafted cars – and their owners can’t be short of a quid. Maybe the UK isn’t in such a mess after all. The one in the photo has front wheel drive – a rarity in those days, although they didn’t persist with it.

A light tank was displayed that I can't identify. Any ideas?

I also found a 1967 HR Holden. Unremarkable? Perhaps, but I owned one exactly the same colour from 1971 until 1973.

I bought it from my Dad when I got back from Vietnam, and drove it everywhere (including one epic journey from Brisbane to Darwin and Alice Springs in 1972). It never missed a beat.

You could also buy a decent coffee if you were prepared to queue, and the loos were clean. Catering at events like these has come a long way in the last ten years.

Next year I’ll try to talk the MX5 club into a group display. Maybe we can conjure up some sponsorship from the local Mazda distributor.

Wings

My recent charter flights have been a reminder of the role that air travel had in opening up western Queensland.

The country I’ve been frequenting is not so far from the birthplace of Qantas, and there is a museum at Quilpie airport dedicated to Amy Johnson who got lost and landed there when she was trying to find Charleville.

Those were the days when the homestead roofs had the property names painted large to assist wayward aviators. I think Amy turned right instead of left when she encountered the railway line – or was it the other way around?

These days, the navigational aids are a little more high-tech, but the basic romance of bush aviation remains.

You always start early, as daylight is a finite resource, and the sunrises are always spectacular. On one of our flights we were treated to a rainbow on departure at Roma. I remembered the old rhyme “Rainbow at morning – shepherd’s warning” and worried about it all day.

Sure enough, on the flight back from Quilpie we hit a squally thunderstorm, and bounced all over the sky with the rain drumming on the fuselage. Unfortunately, it was on finals into Roma, so we couldn’t fly above it. This coupled with the fact that the sun had well and truly gone down as we approached the airport, made me a bit anxious. When you are looking through the same windscreen as the bloke with his hands and feet on the controls, and you realise how little he can actually see, it’s a little sobering.

The aircraft (a Piper Cheyenne Turbo) is pressurised and quite fast, but inside it’s poky and smells like a swamp.

In fact the smell reminded me of a Thai Air Force C-123 Provider that flew me and a bunch of fifteenth intake Nashos from Nui Dat to Tan Son Nhut on 10th December 1970 to jump on the freedom bird for the flight back to Oz. The olfactory sense is the most impactful when it comes to memory.

I wonder whether the charter pilot would be mortally offended if I bring a can of freshener next trip?

Thinking of odours and aircraft reminds me of flying back from Shoalwater bay to Rockhampton in 1969 on board a Caribou after a fortnight spent chasing around playing warries in the tropical heat. We wore the same set of greens (no underwear) for the whole exercise during which there was no opportunity to bathe. The dapper-looking RAAF pilot took exception to the collective stink of thirty filthy grunts and opened the rear cargo hatch once airborne to improve the ventilation. It also improved the view…..

The Piper doesn’t have a cargo hatch – there’s only one entry door on the port side, and the driver has to clamber over the seated passengers once he’s shut this same hatch ensuring it’s properly locked.

Getting to the cockpit between the opulent front seats (the plane is an ex-executive aircraft) provides a particular challenge for anyone bulky of build. I’m skinny – so it’s not a hassle.

The advent of 9/11 has meant a surge in security at these bush airports.

Access to the flightline is through coded gates, and the whole airport area is secured by 3 metre fencing topped by barbed wire. I guess they’re guarding against a hijacking of a small aircraft which in turn could be used to get to a secure area at a major airport.

By the way, if you examine the photo above you'll see a fine example of a balloon tree, found only west of Quilpie.....

Long Way Round

Blogging has fallen by the wayside a bit lately, given the twin competitions for my time of family illness and work.
Nevertheless, I’ve found time this morning, before things arc up again….. During the last two weeks I’ve done trips to Augathella, Charleville, Quilpie and Cunnamulla.

Once again, I’ve used the Q Health charter aircraft to get around which has saved about fifteen hours on the road all up. I don’t mind the driving – in fact I enjoy it – but it’s essentially unproductive time, and the people I work for get much better value out of me when I’m not sitting on my backside traversing the countryside at 100kph.

Flying’s only disadvantage is that you don’t have a car when you get where you’re going, but that can be turned into an advantage. Rather than relying on a lift from the hospital to the schools I’m working in, I’ve chosen to walk. In this weather, and burdened only with my laptop, it’s OK. You wouldn’t however, want to be doing this in the forty degree temperatures common out here in the summer.

Apart from the exercise, walking gives you the best possible feel for these towns, and armed only with my mobile phone camera, I usually manage to get some good shots.

One here, of the drowsy Cunnamulla guard dog, captures the atmosphere well.

Cunnamulla was interesting. After listening to a ten minute diatribe from one of the hospital staff about the dreadful behaviour of the Murri kids at the school (when he discovered that I was working there) I had to ask for directions when I was walking into town from the hospital to buy lunch. (Anything is better than the food off the hospital trolley – which I could have pre-ordered and paid for – been there – done that – never again).

The only bods about were three young Murri blokes – one with a full compliment of tats. They gave me considered and comprehensive directions using a level of courtesy I would have been proud of in my own kids. So much for the uncouth locals I’d heard so much about. Whilst listening to this bigoted character at the hospital, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d spent all morning at the school, where again, I was treated with courtesy (and curiosity – not many white-haired itinerants out here – they’re all young) by the kids I’d encountered.

Cunnamulla architecture is an engrossing mix of shanties and substantial old Queenslanders.

At this time of the year the air is fresh, and the light almost incandescent in its clarity.

I really enjoyed the day.