100 Days of Wonder – #15
Yesterday I talked about fun. When I was at university in Leicester I would frequently visit my then girlfriend who was doing a degree in PE teaching in Chichester. The way my timetable fell I could often stay for a chunk during the week. I’d take work with me and while she was out in lectures and then playing cricket or rugby, I would wade through contract law cases and work out why, as a 19 year old, I should care about Administrative Law. I distinctly remember declining to join a game of rounders and not even joining the spectators sitting in the sun sipping something pink and alcoholic. Instead I opted for a book. My girlfriend’s comment was: Well you’re no fun. It was a theme that came up repeatedly and at the time I remember being defensive about it. I was fun. Of course I was fun. But was I?
I don’t know. I think it took me a long time to work out ‘fun’. I was bookish and serious and independent and ‘grown up’ as a kid. I continue to be fiercely independent but those moments of silliness and laughing so much that you (nearly -hm) pee yourself that I had always treated as rare and very private moments are now moments I embrace and I’m proud of. I no longer take myself or anything particularly seriously. Fun for me has never been about parties, big groups, playing sports or pranking each other which is I think what Rachel was referring to when she put me in the ‘not fun’ box. Fun for me has been about stories, about shared moments that touch the soul, about seeing others light up and mostly about seeing the ridiculousness of most things in life. Sometimes teaching and researching in law doesn’t lend itself to being fun. I bump up against inequality at best and atrocities at worst all the time in my work, some student stories a re heartbreaking and law is, after all a serious business… but finding your brand of silliness and fun seems to me to be crucial to making sure we look after ourselves when we’re doing work that can be emotional and hard. So if you think I’m mad as a hatter and a bit juvenile – you’d be right, I just don’t think that’s a bad thing.
100 Days of Wonder – #9
As I recover from Covid and try and pick up my training for the 2025 Dopey Challenge again, I am reflecting on running and what it has taught me, what it means to me and where I am with it now. There’s lots more about my running on my running blog including a write up of this particular run. I loved this run. That’s rare. I am still not entirely convinced I actually like running. But it means a lot to me because it has taught me a lot about myself. I have always been pretty good at everything I do but that’s simply because I just don’t do things I am not good at. Running is the exception. Running has taught me to stick at something, that doing something just because is a good enough reason to do it, that not being good at it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it. I am more patient with myself and others because of running, I struggle less with the inevitable failures of academia because running taught me I don’t have to excel at everything and it’s ok to have a bad run (a classic reviewer 2, a not perfect teaching session, a not so great meeting). I have (mostly) let go of the competitive streak in me because the world didn’t end when I came last in a race. Running has also taught me to celebrate and ‘bank’ the wins, the glorious runs – like this 5k – where everything feels right, the sense of achievement when you cross a finish line, run a new distance, go faster than you ever have or have recently or the wonder of kingfishers, herons, kites, deer and all sorts of other wildlife you stumble across on early morning trails. I try and note and enjoy the joyful teaching moments, the ‘your paper has now been accepted’ emails, the invites to go talk to interesting people about cool stuff because there will always be another long ploddy run in the cold rain and its academic equivalents – they need doing, they help make the magic happen but having a memory bank of of what the magic feels like definitely helps!
100 Days of Wonder – #6
I love this picture of me from our first trip to Florida. It’s nearly 19 years ago. It was our first full day and there was a whole load going on. I didn’t have any frame of reference or know what to expect. I hadn’t given Disney, theme parks or any of it any real thought, I was tagging along for the winter sun. We had walked up Main Street USA and I was in awe, overwhelmed and struggling to make sense of it all. There was a sort of wonder but it was tentative and not joyful. But then we came to the Winnie-the-Pooh ride and area around it and my brain had something to work with. Pooh bear and friends I knew, I’d been in and out of their stories and on adventures with them for years. Even now I remember a sort of relief and joy washing over me as I finally let my brain let go of reality and jumped into the 100 Acre Wood (trying not to bounce, didn’t want to upset Rabbit) and immersed myself in the story. Disney World, it turns out, is is just allowing yourself to jump in and out of stories. But there’s a lesson here for teaching (and for any sense making work): Our brains need something to work with. We need some sort of frame of reference. Something familiar (a base camp?) from which we can set off into new adventures of learning. Without the security of something familiar, things quickly become scary and disconnected – they don’t make sense. The familiar within the new allows us to test what this new world, new story is all about before diving straight in or taking tentative steps out. Even after all these years and several trips, the Winnie the Pooh ride is still my favourite and it’s still my go to place for a moment of familiarity and calm but I also often picture it as an anchor point when I am trying to work out how best to teach something – I need to help students find their own 100 Acre Wood in the middle of the hundreds of stories I want them to learn about so they can go and safely and joyfully explore a whole new world (yes Disney Pun intended).
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