Was the editor of SR
right or wrong about
the M5 accident?
John Cameron
Clerical fluff
Among the leaderless
young in Zuccotti Park,
a glimmer of hope
The Cafe
The point of the protests
Shocked and saddened
by the personal animus
of a literary critic
The Cafe 2
Power prices
Why not gay marriage?
We have a tradition
of religious liberalism
Barbara Millar
Real doctors
Gus Skinner
I love the Open University, one of the greatest institutions ever created – though it is not in essence an institution. It is almost a collective. Yet here it has had to bow: ‘Note that the OU is changing its terminology to bring it closer to that of the rest of the higher education sector. Points will now be referred to as credits; awards will be referred to as qualifications; and courses will be referred to as modules’.
Whatever this means, and despite the OU’s best efforts to educate me, I have little idea, I have no doubt that many in higher education have very clear opinions on it all. I doubt whether any who attended, and paid for, Adam Smith’s lectures thought they are completing a module; they thought it best to learn. What worries me is that, collegiately, they – HE collegiately – think this is progress.
The difference between points and credits is what? Points mean prizes, credits mean progress. And the difference between awards and qualifications? God forbid there should be any awards in HE, since, at every level, there is so much more to learn. And what, learning should never have a celebration?
I fear there is something deeply wrong.
Of course at any level we can only learn part of what is known – say from 10% to 30% and even to 60% if you get a PhD. But bear in mind that what is known, even in the best spheres, is probably barely 0.005%. So is our HE sector drilling all curiosity down to less than what is already known?
An odd way to lead, for HE does, education. We really do not have to run our institutions this way.
No-one could bring up a child that way. Crushing curiosity. Our futures depend on innovation, imagination, creativity – drama and dance in part, creativity indeed – and curiosity certainly.
Sonata
Gerard Rochford
When you’re alone with that sweet wood,
the strings silent, bow taut, the heart hesitant,
go into the Forest of Birse and listen.
Moonlight is best; you know the music of days.
You will hear owls calling. Foxes too,
barking for a mate, and the leaves trembling
at the wind’s touch. Over your feet, naked if you dare,
you can feel insects, busy with their mysterious lives,
sensing your heat, exploring, tasting you.
Now write your song, the song of a myriad joys
the world bestows to those who risk themselves
in the darkness and have a gift for celebrating love.
Then offer yourself to your lover; like the owls,
the foxes, insects, the wind upon the leaves.
Gerard Rochford lives in Aberdeen. He is the Scottish Review’s makar and
contributes a poem each month. His publications include ‘Failing Light’
and ‘Of Love and Water’
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