End of an error

I have finished my degree. Apologies for the lack of recent posts, but I've been working on the short-story-plus-commentary that was my final piece for the Open University. I had to submit a plan for my final story in February and, since then, I forgot the finer details, changed the characters and the ending, and ended up with something that could only be linked to the plan by someone with a very good imagination. Fortunately, this made the commentary very easy to write, with it being a thousand words based around 'I changed this because...'. So, I clicked on the 'Submit your work' button for the last time and now have to wait until July for my result.

Thankfully, due to the result of my 'Religions and Controversy' course, I know what degree classification I'll be getting, so that's not a worry, but it would be nice to get a Pass 2 for this creative writing course (I don't think I'll reach the giddy heights of a distinction for this one, sadly). So, that's five years of study finished (I'm not counting the year I wasted when I ducked out of a linguistics course after finding it too brain-mangling, or the science course on volcanoes and tsunamis in which I discovered my maths was not up to working out the speed that vibrations move through the earth, for a one-mark question). I actually feel rather sad. I started the whole thing with a short course on psychology, because I was bored and there was nothing on television. I didn't have to pay for it because, at the time, the OU was taking Tesco vouchers for level one courses. And that was going to be it. But then I found that learning was as addictive as other OU students said it was and, several thousand pounds later, I can't for the life of me remember writing an essay on Harlow's attachment theory, but I did, and it's presumably residing in the hard-to-reach bits of my brain somewhere (the same place as the whereabouts of my sunglasses).

So, what have I learnt? Apart from the 'fact' that Milton Keynes is considered the spiritual centre of the UK (oh, how we did laugh about that...)

• I'm not as stupid as my high school teachers told me,
• I, very sadly, enjoy compiling a long list of references at the end of an assignment,
• I would be sunk without my spell-checker and the thesaurus on Word,
• I don't trust anything that isn't peer-reviewed and stocked in the OU library,
• I have an insatiable need to keep learning new things,
• I will never get a result that is good enough for me. 

The last point is rather worrying. While it's nice for the Boss Lady to praise the way I strive to improve myself, and while I love filling my head with 'new stuff', I'm already looking up prices of PhDs in Children's Literature (Cambridge Uni does one, and it's affordable, which I kind of wish it wasn't as I can see myself still being a student when I'm 90. On the other hand, the thought of the school children having to call me 'Doctor' could make it worthwhile). I'm finding learning very addictive, though, as I said before. I agree with that thing about 'the more I learn, the less I know,' although I can't remember if that's a quote from Socrates or Red Hot Chilli Peppers. 

The other option I'd like to consider...

Anyway. The Masters starts in September, so I'll do that, and see where the next three years takes me. Meanwhile, questions I'm getting fed up with hearing: 'Are you going to be a teacher?' Asked by staff members and usually answered by slightly hysterical laughter. 'When's your graduation?' Seriously? I could buy a huge pile of books for what it would cost me to fall up the steps at a graduation. 'How are you going to use your degree?' Ummm... 

For now, there is reading, which can now be done without feeling guilty that I'm avoiding an assignment deadline. And I will try to keep the blog more up to date. 

Trying to stop the havering

I attended a virtual seminar for my masters degree last week. I had no idea there were such things and had to do a hurried Java update in order for it to work, but it was definitely worth 'attending'. I even took part. I typed 'hello' and 'thank you'. Hopefully I'll be up to getting more involved as the next three years go past...

I almost didn't 'attend'. (This on-line stuff gets complicated, in my opinion. It's fine when writing, but including inverted commas in speech needs to become more of a thing than doing that two-fingered rabbit-ears gesture. Trying to explain to The Husband about my attendance at an 'open evening' and how I couldn't cook tea because I needed to 'be there' got a bit silly.) Anyway, I was getting jitters about the whole masters thing. Here I was, planning to spend the next three years and over £5000 on something that I was purely doing for pleasure, and it seemed a tad selfish. And I'll be 50 when I finish my degree for heaven's sake. I'd also be working with some intelligent people, and I know it's not a competition, but I thought I'd be a bit out of my depth. I felt I was probably going to be that student sitting at the back saying they don't get it. Maybe I shouldn't do it? But, on the other hand, if I took part in the seminar, at least I wouldn't have to make tea, so it was worth doing that at least. 

An hour and a half later, I had a reading list and four pages of scribbled notes, which include (I'm reading through them, now) 'Choose your own essay questions!!!!!' which is circled and has stars round it; 'From picture books to graphic novels' underlined twice; 'Pay yearly, phew!' and other such gems. I've also got 'psychoanalysis of illustrations' and 'carnivalesque', neither of which mean a thing to me now, but presumably did at the time. The best things? Debbie Someone said she was a bit rusty at writing essays and a teacher with a 2:2 asked if he'd be out of his depth and was told 'it depends'. My note-taking obviously needs some work. And so I exited virtual reality and entered the real thing (which smelt of fish and chips, as the rest of the family was starving) feeling a bit more positive. The Boss Lady has written me an amazing reference, and I know I'll be graduating Open Uni with a first, so I just need to convince myself that I'm not a total fraud and I'll be fine. Sigh...

Anyway, I know that I'll be a pain to live with if I'm not studying. It seems like the more I learn, the more I realise that I don't actually know very much. Which makes zero sense and shows that I really should be working on my writing. And, do you know what? There's a PhD in Children's Literature. That got my interest (and my bank account sobbing in the corner). The children at school would have to call me 'Doctor'. It's almost worth doing for that reason alone. (Son Number One deliberately ticks the wrong boxes on parcel delivery information - we've had parcels for Reverends, Doctors, Majors and Professors at this address.) And who the heck cares how old I'm going to be when I finish my studies? I'm hopefully going to get old anyway, so I may as well get old with a degree as without one. 

I think the most difficult thing about doing the masters will be having to choose a new name for this blog. 

Introverts unite. Quietly.

And so we reach that time of year when we spend too much, eat too much and drink too much, all justified by the phrase, 'Oh well, it's nearly Christmas,' before we get to January and complain that we have no money and need to lose a few kilos. I have actually been Christmas shopping. Twice. The first time, I had a massive list, a bad mood, a bored husband, and all I bought was a chap-stick. Second time around, I managed to buy a few presents, after which The Husband and I decided to reward ourselves with a cup of coffee in town. Unfortunately, we got sidetracked by an advert for afternoon tea in the shop next door. Never mind. It happens. 

The Daughter and her boyfriend get home from their three months of travelling this Monday. From looking at the photos she's been sharing on Facebook, I like the look of Sri Lanka and New Zealand the most. They loved New Zealand, and were very sad to leave, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if they decided to head out that way permanently, some time in the future. 

They'll be staying in these parts for a few days before going back home to Cornwall for Christmas. For the second year, we'll be having Christmas dinner at a pub with my parents. It's a bit pricey, but it means that everyone can enjoy the day without worrying whether the turkey will be ready at the same time as the potatoes, and who will get the rickety chair at the dinner table. And there's no washing-up. 

For the first time, I gave the work's Christmas Do a miss. They were off to the pub in the village, where we go most years and complain about the food. And yet, we still go back. Yesterday, at school, while I was laminating and cutting-out numbers in French, an increasing number of grumpy people stomped up and down the corridor, complaining about going out that evening. I hope they had a good time. I did. I had a glass or two of rather nice red wine and read a book. Not a party game or a Christmas cracker in sight. I honestly think that the older I get, the more unsociable I get, and that's fine until people won't leave me to be antisocial in peace. 'What you need is a really good night out,' I've been told. Nope. What I need is a good malt whisky and the next DVD of Parenthood (the brilliant American six-season box-set, not the Steve Martin film). 

I wouldn't dream of telling someone, 'Look, a night in with a book will do you the world of good.' Go and enjoy your parties, you extroverts, and let me get away from people for a bit. 

I will have plenty of excuses to opt out of gatherings, anyway. I got an email from Roehampton University, offering me a place on their Children's Literature Masters course. It says the offer is conditional, depending on my degree results, but I already know that I've got a first, so I can start planning. Which reminds me: I better get on with that script I have to write for my present course. I'm six pages into it, with another eight to go, plus a commentary on what I've written: 'I chose the medium of radio, so I wouldn't have to think about stage directions or props. And, yes, I have used personal experience in my writing, because the character of Bitchy Mother is based on my Mother-in-law.' 

So, I'm sorry, I won't be able to make that party - I've just got so much work I have to do. 

Just keep swimming...

I have some catching up to do - sorry. In my previous post, I wrote that I'd got an interview for a prison librarian job. That didn't lead to anything; the job was only temporary because of a huge lack of funding and, the thing that actually ruled the job out for me, I'd have to use the phone. Almost anyone with a stammer will tell you that phones are their nemesis. The Husband makes my appointments for me; I have a special arrangement with the Open University which means he can speak on my behalf. It's annoying and I don't know why I'm so bad with phones. I'm okay with family and some of my friends - I have a caller display on my phone, and if it's not someone I'll be fluent with, I just leave it to the answering machine. Technology is kind of on my side - most official things can be dealt with through email; some friends prefer a text to a phone call, but if the phone rings at work, it's no good looking at me to answer it. Or Ms Titian, because she's fairly deaf and wears hearing aids. Once, dire circumstances left us both in charge of the school office, and we were next to useless. All the forms got filled in, and money got counted, but phones? Nah!

So, no prison job. Which is kind of okay, especially as The Husband's friend, who is a warden at said prison, saw his partner beaten up last week by someone who was fuelled up on drugs. The worst I've ever had is a chair thrown at me by one of our past Year 6 students, so maybe I'm better where I am... I have got rid of my library duties, though. For a job that needed two or three hours a week timetabled for it, I was given no time at all, and the piles of unfinished jobs and the feelings of guilt were getting to me. I couldn't manage much overtime to get things done. Actually, that's a lie. I could have managed it, but if this year has taught me anything, it's 'make the most of the time you have with your family.' Sadly, I've also learned some lessons about my friends. When I said I was going to give up the library, most said, 'Good idea - that'll be one less thing to stress about,' but two friends stopped talking to me. When I asked them if they'd be interested in taking it on, they refused to discuss it and I caught the exchange of, 'See, I told you...' looks between them. I think they believed I was giving up something I used to love in a fit of pique. Thankfully, The Boss Lady was on my side and relieved me of the burden immediately. 

Things are getting better at work, I have to admit. Yesterday, I was given a regular Friday afternoon slot in my favourite class. They have a new teacher who I get on really well with, and have known vaguely for years and years, as he's the father of my son's best friend. He's a great person to be sarcastic and irreverent with, so that's a big plus. We also have a new teaching assistant who is an old friend, and that I had forgotten that I loved so much, so things are on the up. I have taken a leaf out of another colleague's book, and have started saying what I think a bit more. Agreeing with people and doing everything I was asked to just got me walked over, I found. 

Anyway, enough complaining. I should be writing a script for my next assignment, but it's not due until January 5th, so I'm thinking I can leave it until the school Christmas holidays and get it done then. Deluded? Maybe. I'm still waiting to hear from Roehampton University about whether I've been accepted on their Masters course. Apparently, when they said I'd hear within the week (3 weeks ago), I'd been sent the wrong automated email. I should hear within 6 weeks. Meanwhile, I've got some reading to catch up on. I've just bought the second in a series by Terry Goodkind - all magic and ridiculousness, but very enjoyable. The new book is 1027 pages long (rubs hands in gleeful anticipation). Unfortunately, I've forgotten what happened in the first book, so I've got to go back and read that again first. And there are 17 books in the series, so this could take some time, and a lot of bookshelf space. 

Better get the coffee on...