I have an exam today so I've been doing some practise questions.
I just came across this one:
True or False: Living in poverty affects a child's school achievement rather than their emotional or behavioural states.
My answer: False
Correct answer: True
I thought, in answering the question, no, living in poverty does not just affect a child's school achievement, rather than their emotional or behavioural states. I think living in poverty would affect all those areas; doesn't it?
Apparently not, according to my textbook.
There's a message there for policy-makers: Fix the poverty problem and you'll instantaneously fix the literacy and numeracy issues in Australia too. Sure we'll still have all our emotional and behavioural issues but 40 years in a mundane processing job should beat them out of us.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Dumb Word of the Day
Webliography.
A bibliography of web addresses.
Amazing. I mean, seriously, wow.
If the person who came up with that had spent a few extra minutes sleeping in that day and thus had a few less minutes spare to ponder the cumbersomeness of 'web bibliography' (and to create the equally cumbersome 'webliography') the world would be a better place.
Don't you think?
A bibliography of web addresses.
Amazing. I mean, seriously, wow.
If the person who came up with that had spent a few extra minutes sleeping in that day and thus had a few less minutes spare to ponder the cumbersomeness of 'web bibliography' (and to create the equally cumbersome 'webliography') the world would be a better place.
Don't you think?
Sunday, June 5, 2011
How many feathers can a vego bear?
I bought my son a new doona today, a feather one. It's lovely, very fluffy, just the kind of doona to keep a small child (or anyone who fits into a single bed) warm during the reclining hours.
But... [and I can't say this too loudly because I fear the answer: Should a vegetarian actually buy a feather doona?].
I'm assuming (on reflection, after the thrill of my trip to the local Westfield has subsided) that the 85% duck feathers and 15% duck down that make up my son's doona filling were collected pond-side by enthusiastic bird-watchers who did not rip said feathers and down from dear birdies' sides but picked them up, delicately, one by one, as they fell to the ground during sun-bathed morning wing stretches, right?
Right?
On the other hand, how many baby acrylics died to make his previous acrylic-stuffed quilt? Gah!
What a shame we can only metaphorically bask in the warmth of our parents' love; that would have solved my son-warming doona dilemma.
But... [and I can't say this too loudly because I fear the answer: Should a vegetarian actually buy a feather doona?].
I'm assuming (on reflection, after the thrill of my trip to the local Westfield has subsided) that the 85% duck feathers and 15% duck down that make up my son's doona filling were collected pond-side by enthusiastic bird-watchers who did not rip said feathers and down from dear birdies' sides but picked them up, delicately, one by one, as they fell to the ground during sun-bathed morning wing stretches, right?
Right?
On the other hand, how many baby acrylics died to make his previous acrylic-stuffed quilt? Gah!
What a shame we can only metaphorically bask in the warmth of our parents' love; that would have solved my son-warming doona dilemma.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Signs that 35 may be closer to 40 than 30
1. Watching Deadwood and saying to your partner, "I mean, really, do they need to say 'c*cksucker' quite so much?"
2. Realising that people who were born in 1993 are now eligible to vote. Sero?
3. Automatically picking up the locally produced, gluten and antibiotic-free, certified free range eggs with no added hormones at the supermarket.
4. Deciding amongst your pals whose house to hold the regular poker game at based on who has the most and/or youngest kids.
5. Enjoying a track called 'Blue-winged Kookaburras' on an album called Kakadu: A Celebration of the Wetlands.
6. Eating exactly eight almonds a day because your nutritionist told you to.
What. The. Fuck.
Then again, a darling twenty-something pal of mine who is a fully sick rock band drummer has just started knitting granny squares so hey, maybe 20 is the new 40.
2. Realising that people who were born in 1993 are now eligible to vote. Sero?
3. Automatically picking up the locally produced, gluten and antibiotic-free, certified free range eggs with no added hormones at the supermarket.
4. Deciding amongst your pals whose house to hold the regular poker game at based on who has the most and/or youngest kids.
5. Enjoying a track called 'Blue-winged Kookaburras' on an album called Kakadu: A Celebration of the Wetlands.
6. Eating exactly eight almonds a day because your nutritionist told you to.
What. The. Fuck.
Then again, a darling twenty-something pal of mine who is a fully sick rock band drummer has just started knitting granny squares so hey, maybe 20 is the new 40.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
How's about those southern states?
I've just returned from a couple of days in Melbourne and am happy to report that Melbourne is a way much betterer city than Sydney. Here's why:
1. In Sydney I see at least four people a day picking their noses in their cars. Far as I know car windows are still transparent, people.
In contrast, I didn't see a single person picking his or her nose in Melbourne (not even at the conference I was at; not a one).
2. In Sydney I get caught in traffic jams all the time; in Melbourne, not once (sure I didn't have a car in Melbourne, and sure I walked most places, but I didn't hear anyone complaining about traffic jams on the 112 to Gertrude Street last night).
[2.1. In Melbourne they have a street called Gertrude Street. Awes.]
3. In Sydney people are still wearing short-shorts even though summer is well over. In Melbourne they spit on short-shorts.
4. In Sydney they have signs like this on escalators in Westfields:
In Melbourne they don't have Crocs (I'm not even sure they have Westfields?).
The only things Melbourne doesn't have are: Mr Kettle, my son, my dear friends, my lovely family, Campos Coffee, my PO Box, my favourite bookstore in Newtown, my awesome babysitting-swapping neighbours, our swimming teacher, our long established gainful employment, and my dear, irreplaceable pal Meredith. All I need to do is convince them all to move south; shouldn't be too hard, eh?
1. In Sydney I see at least four people a day picking their noses in their cars. Far as I know car windows are still transparent, people.
In contrast, I didn't see a single person picking his or her nose in Melbourne (not even at the conference I was at; not a one).
2. In Sydney I get caught in traffic jams all the time; in Melbourne, not once (sure I didn't have a car in Melbourne, and sure I walked most places, but I didn't hear anyone complaining about traffic jams on the 112 to Gertrude Street last night).
[2.1. In Melbourne they have a street called Gertrude Street. Awes.]
3. In Sydney people are still wearing short-shorts even though summer is well over. In Melbourne they spit on short-shorts.
4. In Sydney they have signs like this on escalators in Westfields:
In Melbourne they don't have Crocs (I'm not even sure they have Westfields?).
The only things Melbourne doesn't have are: Mr Kettle, my son, my dear friends, my lovely family, Campos Coffee, my PO Box, my favourite bookstore in Newtown, my awesome babysitting-swapping neighbours, our swimming teacher, our long established gainful employment, and my dear, irreplaceable pal Meredith. All I need to do is convince them all to move south; shouldn't be too hard, eh?
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Bloody vouchers
When I woke up this morning I had a wad of pre-paid movie vouchers that I need to use by Thursday.
No worries, right? Right. So off I went to some megaplex or other to see The Adjustment Bureau. I found it a very enjoyable film, but that's not entirely surprising considering I'm quite partial to anything bureau-related. And who doesn't love a love story? And also, Emily Blunt is well hot.
So The Adjustment Bureau was a good pick and my wad of vouchers has reduced to six. All good. So now I only have six vouchers to use before Thursday.
Should be easy, yes?
Should it shit.
The problem is that now I've seen The Adjustment Bureau, what else is there to see? I've run some calculations and am sorry to report that at least 87% of the movies out at the moment are shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Which bodes poorly for my wad of vouchers.
So please, will you help? Will you look into your good and generous hearts and advise me how to get rid of my vouchers? Here's what's on at the moment:
Rango: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny; what have you done?
Justin Bieber: Never Say Never (3D): This boy makes me want to vomit into my handkerchief.
127 Hours: An uplifting tale about a chappy hacking off his arm with a teaspoon (if I understand correctly).
Gnomeo and Juliet: Animated? At least visually, if nothing else. Shakespeare's play with a happy ending, and gnomes.
Conviction: Hilary Swank's character's brother goes to jail for something or other. She does something or other to get him out.
No Strings Attached: Natalie Portman pretends to find Ashton Kutcher attractive. I forget how it ends.
Fast and Furious 5: Five? They've made five of these abominations?
So shit, I don't know. What do you think?
No worries, right? Right. So off I went to some megaplex or other to see The Adjustment Bureau. I found it a very enjoyable film, but that's not entirely surprising considering I'm quite partial to anything bureau-related. And who doesn't love a love story? And also, Emily Blunt is well hot.
So The Adjustment Bureau was a good pick and my wad of vouchers has reduced to six. All good. So now I only have six vouchers to use before Thursday.
Should be easy, yes?
Should it shit.
The problem is that now I've seen The Adjustment Bureau, what else is there to see? I've run some calculations and am sorry to report that at least 87% of the movies out at the moment are shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Which bodes poorly for my wad of vouchers.
So please, will you help? Will you look into your good and generous hearts and advise me how to get rid of my vouchers? Here's what's on at the moment:
Rango: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny; what have you done?
Justin Bieber: Never Say Never (3D): This boy makes me want to vomit into my handkerchief.
127 Hours: An uplifting tale about a chappy hacking off his arm with a teaspoon (if I understand correctly).
Gnomeo and Juliet: Animated? At least visually, if nothing else. Shakespeare's play with a happy ending, and gnomes.
Conviction: Hilary Swank's character's brother goes to jail for something or other. She does something or other to get him out.
No Strings Attached: Natalie Portman pretends to find Ashton Kutcher attractive. I forget how it ends.
Fast and Furious 5: Five? They've made five of these abominations?
So shit, I don't know. What do you think?
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Why We Should All Perpetually Babysit
I'm a bit of a fan of babysitting; it's one of my favourite things to do of an evening. It's like you're Santa Claus: you get to hang out in other people's living rooms; you can leave without folding the washing or loading the dishwasher; and there's always a snack and something to drink left on the kitchen bench.
But the benefits of babysitting extend far beyond the sherry and carrot sticks. Babysitting gives you access to miles and miles of other people's book shelves. I would never have read The Science of Superheroes, or the less cheery but equally fascinating Mountaincraft and Leadership if I hadn't been a serial babysitter in some pals' houses. (Not to mention The Complete Kama Sutra - heavens! Life would have been the poorer for that.)
So I'd like to make a suggestion: I propose that we all establish households, have children, get guinea pigs, etc., then promptly head out our front doors and move into the house immediately to the left of our own. That way we'll have that 'Just here for the evening and ooh! Isn't the telly so much more interesting over here' feeling all the time.
Now if you'll excuse me my charges for the night are fast asleep, there's dark chocolate dipping sauce on the kitchen bench just waiting for me, and that couch in the loungeroom looks so much more comfortable than my own. Sweet gig or what.
But the benefits of babysitting extend far beyond the sherry and carrot sticks. Babysitting gives you access to miles and miles of other people's book shelves. I would never have read The Science of Superheroes, or the less cheery but equally fascinating Mountaincraft and Leadership if I hadn't been a serial babysitter in some pals' houses. (Not to mention The Complete Kama Sutra - heavens! Life would have been the poorer for that.)
So I'd like to make a suggestion: I propose that we all establish households, have children, get guinea pigs, etc., then promptly head out our front doors and move into the house immediately to the left of our own. That way we'll have that 'Just here for the evening and ooh! Isn't the telly so much more interesting over here' feeling all the time.
Now if you'll excuse me my charges for the night are fast asleep, there's dark chocolate dipping sauce on the kitchen bench just waiting for me, and that couch in the loungeroom looks so much more comfortable than my own. Sweet gig or what.
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