My Doctor Who memory: the Daleks in Trafalgar Square

5 December 1964. The Doctor was William Hartnell, and this was only the second ever Dalek story, the one in which the Daleks invade a near-future Earth. I was five, nearly six, and I was just discovering Doctor Who and experiencing that peculiar ambivalence familiar to subsequent generations of children: that of it's being terrifying, beyond anything else in our televisual experience - but also entirely compelling. The story is notable in the overall Who narrative, because it's the one in which his grand-daughter Susan stays behind to marry her nice resistance fighter and work for the post-war reconstruction of Earth. But for me it was memorable, in fact burned itself into my memory, because it showed the Daleks in a place which I knew intimately.

We didn't live in London, but we often drove there, and my father taught me the names of the landmarks: Hammersmith Bridge, Piccadilly Circus with its neon lights and statue of Eros, and Trafalgar Square with its stone lions and Nelson's Column. Practising my geography, I used them to mark the stages of our journeys, counting them off and naming them as we passed. They were not only part of London, they were part of my life.

So I'm watching Doctor Who, and there's this bit where Barbara, who's fallen in with a group of resistance fighters, is helping this old and wheelchair-bound hero of the conflict escape, because the Daleks are closing in on their location. In a long filmed sequence, with another woman of the resistance, they race along the Victoria Embankment, and then have to hide as a Dalek convey passes over Westminster Bridge. When the coast is clear, they move on quickly to Trafalgar Square - but the Daleks have got there first. The camera view starts at the top of Nelson's Column, then pans down to the stone lions, revealing the Daleks gathering there. The effect was breath-taking and astonishing for me; the Daleks were no longer just on television: they had invaded my life.<1>


(The Victorian Embankment / Trafalgar Square sequence begins at timecode 5:03)

Many years later, watching the episode on DVD, I had a flash of association with an image which I only got to know as an adult: the famous newsreel footage of the Nazi army marching into Paris past the Arc de Triomphe. The sense of violation, of a deeply familiar landmark being desecrated by something which should absolutely not be there, was just the same. I was also aware of how many associations there must quite deliberately have been in that episode when originally shown, for grown-ups who remembered the Second World War and knew about Nazi-occupied Europe: the intimidation, the resistance, the labour camps, and the occupied people pressed into service as collaborators: the humans who had been turned into Robomen.<2> The Doctor himself most obviously resembled an Eastern European refugee: cultured yet poor, wandering far from his native land, the generation between himself and his grand-daughter conspicuous by its absence, presumably due to war or armed conflict.



But back in 1964, my dear mother indulged my obsession. She always decorated our (home-made) Christmas cake with style and imagination, and so that year our Christmas cake featured the Daleks in Trafalgar Square. Nelson's Column was a stick of rock, with the plastic lions from my Noah's Ark around its base and Noah himself standing in for Nelson. The Daleks themselves were made of round chocolate biscuits in layers, with smarties on their outsides. It was a good end to a fantastic story. The Daleks might have conquered the Earth, but we ate them for Christmas.

Notes

<1> This story was the first in Dr Who to use extensive location filming - to great effect. The image of the Daleks on Westminster Bridge is well-known because of a publicity still (not reflecting the shots used in the actual episode), which was later imitated on a Radio Times cover in 2005 (image 14) and the 50th anniversary programmes.
<2> The World War 2 and Nazi occupation references are discussed in the commentary on the BBC Dr Who website, and in the Wikipedia entry.

The secret of learning design - on a T-shirt

This excellent T-shirt is produced by the same designers who produced the much-circulated graphics on How to Care for Introverts / Extroverts.

As soon as I saw the design, I forwarded the link to a friend who finds some of her work colleagues need to have the same things explained to them repeatedly, or think that if they're sent on a training course they'll magically be able to do their job. She loved the design, as I knew she would.

But it later occurred to me that this T-shirt slogan also goes to the heart of learning design, along the same lines as my previous effort to summarise everything one needs to know about it in two principles. What it says is that you can explain as much as you like, and produce texts and videos and websites, and none of it guarantees anything. Or as I put it in my previous post: people learn because of what they do, not what you do.

Of course, if you're a teacher, this doesn't mean that you can just explain things and leave the rest up to the learner. If you're going to take your responsibility seriously, and if you have learners who you can't be sure will be able to take charge of their own learning, then you need to prompt them into doing things which will enable them to learn from your explanations. It's in that interaction that the magic happens, which is why learning design is a creative craft. As the T-shirt reminds us, the learning begins when the explanation ends: when the teacher stops talking and the learner becomes active.

Seen and heard: October 2013

Queen of Heaven - concert by The Sixteen, mainly Palestrina plus beautiful comparison-contracts with the contemporary James Macmillan. Fantastic to hear this top class choir close to home, now that they've added Milton Keynes City Church to their annual choral pilgrimage.

A Night in Vienna - concert by Milton Keynes City Orchestra, Strausses, Lehar and so on. Great fun, with conductor Hilary Davan Wetton in full audience-pleasing mode, though I'm not sure how many of the large youth party from Milton Keynes College really enjoyed it.

The Big Red Bath - a kid's theatre trip to The Stables for our grand-daughter aged 6. I didn't seen how a simple picture book about bathtime could make a stage show, but the Full House theatre company did it: with three actors taking all the parts, atmospheric music, and lots of mime and dance. As one of the Stables staff commented, not one child asked to go to the toilet during the show: a strong indicator of quality.

The Russia House - 1990 film with Sean Connery and Michelle Pfeiffer, watched again on video: an anniversary present from my wife. It's one of our favourites: a John Le Carré novel in a cracking adaptation by Tom Stoppard, heartfelt and powerful. Best line: "these days you have to think like a hero just to behave like a merely decent human being."

22 Reasons for the Bedroom Tax - gently satirical poem by Carol Ann Duffy, riffing on the ministerial statement about the difficulties encountered with the badger cull (that "the badgers had moved the goalposts"). Also a witty commentary on the use of clichéd metaphor in public life.

Get Your Inbox to Zero - training course provided by ThinkProductive. I'm fairly cynical about the value of most training, but this fell into small fraction of courses I've experienced which was actually good and useful. It was basically an application of the well-respected David Allen "Getting Things Done" approach, and by the end of the day I had indeed reduced my email Inbox to zero, from a starting point of nearly 300. More to the point, it's still at zero, or at least I get it to zero by the end of each day.

Masters of Sex - Channel 4's intelligent and period-detail-rich dramatisation of the collaboration between Bill Masters and Virginia Johnson in their ground-breaking 1950s study of human sexual response. Michael Sheen is especially good as Masters: since it's presumably not known what he was actually thinking and feeling as their relationship took its twists and turns, this is made into a character trait: you feel that he's a stranger to himself and doesn't really know his own thoughts and feelings.

Inspector Montalbano - new series on BBC4. So The Young Montalbano was a gap-filler (very good gap-filler) before the return of the original. Good to be back in Vigata, though a bit sad to see how much older everyone is now - especially Augello.

New Directions in Learning and Teaching - my Faculty's annual mini-conference / workshop, with particularly memorable presentations on peer assessment, student experience of online materials, and the strategic use of discussion forums.

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective - Japanese cartoon-style point-and-click adventure game. The character whom you play is dead and the murder he's investigating is his own, using his abilities to move physical objects poltergeist style, travel along phone lines, and wind back time to four minutes before someone else's death in order to prevent it taking place. Funny and charming, with excellent animation (especially the dancing police inspector); no voice acting, but the story cracks along just fine through speech balloons. Lots of happy hours here.

How to care for introverts / extroverts

This pair of wonderful diagrams has been circulating around the internet without source or acknowledgement – but as far as I can see the original designers are here, and we should acknowledge their brilliance.

For me, there are several reasons why these diagrams are great. First, they get right the meaning of introversion and extraversion. The popular misconception is that introverts are shy and don't get on with people, or are lacking in social skills, whereas extraverts (or extroverts, as it's now often spelled) are gregarious and get on with people splendidly. But in Jung’s original conception, introversion is a focus on the inner contents of one’s mind, and extraversion is a focus on external objects and the outside world. So extraverts get energy from other people, and introverts get energy from thinking. It isn’t that introverts don’t like other people or don’t know how to deal with them: it’s that they find them draining of energy (though not quite in the sense of this Dilbert cartoon). Introverts can be very socially skilled, though they’re unlikely ever to shine in a field such as telesales. It’s rare to find an extrovert with poor social skills (though they do exist), but it’s common to find extroverts who prefer to do their thinking by talking to other people.

The second reason these diagrams why these diagrams are great is that they’re actually useful. Most discussions of extraversion and introversion in pop psychology or HR literature focus on “finding your type” or working out where you are on the introversion-extraversion spectrum, but don't tell you what to do about it - except, usually, to imply that if you're an introvert you shouldn't be promoted into management or do any kind of job which involves working with people. (Hence the need for ripostes, such as Susan Cain's Quiet.) These diagrams address the problem that if you're an extrovert you probably don't know how extroverts like to be treated (and they're unlikely to tell you), and if you're an introvert you may know what extraverts like but don't have the confidence to do it for them. These are diagrams which offer the possibility of a better world.

And the third reason why these diagrams are great is of course that they're superb pieces of design. Pithy and memorable text, engagingly laid out. (I think the variation in type sizes forces one subconsciously to slow down and pay more attention while reading the text, hence encouraging one to pay attention to what it actually says.) Writers and designers of motivational aphorisms, take note.

Which to Teach, Procedure or Understanding?

When I’m showing a colleague how to do something on their computer and I try to explain why it works that way, often they’ll say: “Don’t tell me how it works, just tell me what I need to do.”

The reason I try to explain how it works is that referring back to the underlying system is how I myself remember things. It is, I think usually a better strategy overall: it equips one better to cope with unexpected situations, such as a software upgrade which moves the buttons or changes their names. But what I have to remind myself is that many people really don’t want to know all that; they just want to know what to do.

The trouble is that it’s sometimes very hard to devise a procedure – what the mathematicians call an algorithm, or sequence of instructions – which is really robust so that someone without any understanding at all can follow it and get the desired result every time. For example, what instructions would you give someone to enable them to get across a city by bus, if they don’t really understand what a bus route is or what governs a bus’s starting and stopping?

In the magnificent from-the-inside book about autism Send in the Idiots, that was the problem which confronted Henry and Sheila, who wanted to teach their autistic daughter Elizabeth (age 23) to get from their house to the public library, which she loved, by bus on her own. They’d shown her the way to the bus stop and explained the bus numbers and how the motions made by people at the bus stop attract the driver’s attention and make the bus pull over. “She might not have realized [that there was a correlation between people sticking out their hands and the bus pulling in], not because she lacked deductive reasoning but because she might have noticed the green stain on the person’s sneakers instead, the misplaced apostrophe in the advertisement on the side of the bus.”

Next they had to teach her when to get off the bus. They started with a street map and a bus route map, and she understood the differences between them. But when they tried the trip together, with a portable copy of the bus map, she couldn’t follow their route. “Each time the bus stopped, Elizabeth thought that she was to count off a dot, except that the bus stopped for traffic lights and pedestrian crossings, as well as to pick up or let off passengers. And, to make things worse, it also didn’t stop every time that it was supposed to. There weren’t passengers to let off or pick up at every point designated on the map.” Trying to follow the bus map, she became increasingly confused and distressed, to the point where Sheila had to take her off the bus.

The next strategy was to teach her to count streets, to use just the street map and to count the streets to her [destination]. However, when they tried this, she disputed their interpretation of a street. She wanted to count everything that was paved as a street. Again the map didn’t match what she was seeing. Elizabeth’s parents tried to wean her off this by telling her to count only those paved routes that had street signs. This had the potential for excluding entrances to parking garages and walkways. She was good at noticing details, so it seemed safe to assume that she would notice every street sign and cross-reference it with the map. However, not every street on the map had a sign – far from it, especially when they got downtown. They also tried by counting only streets that had white lines drawn on them. But some of the wider streets had several lanes – so several white lines – and some of the narrower streets had no lines. This didn’t work either.

They’d been trying for three weeks, when Elizabeth’s distress during another unsuccessful attempt Elizabeth’s distress forced them to get off the bus early yet again. They were feeling a deep sense of failure. Blind people travelled on buses. So did children. But their grown-up daughter couldn’t.

‘Where are we, anyway?’ exclaimed Sheila.

‘Twelve,’ replied Elizabeth….

‘What?’ asked Henry. ‘Why twelve?’

Elizabeth pointed to the bus stop.

She had worked out that the bus map wasn’t at all abstract. It was only abstract if you were comparing it to the street map, or if you assumed that the bus had to stop at every dot. Instead, the bus map was a map of all the bus stop signs with the same logo as was in the bottom righthand corner of the map. In fact, you didn’t even need the map. You just needed to know the number of signs from the point of embarkation to the point of disembarkation. They were at twelve. They needed to get to fifteen.

So a triumph of sorts. But what a distance there is between Elizabeth’s algorithm for working out when to get off the bus and anything like a systemic understanding of the situation, in which the counting of bus stops relates to her progress across the city. And how good is her algorithm really? Would she know how to adjust it, if say a bus stop was suspended due to road works, or the bus route was diverted? Nevertheless, this story was a reminder to me that, if what you’re most concerned about is a practical outcome, it may be a good idea to abandon the goal of teaching understanding: even with non-autistic people, the effort may simply not be worth the benefit, for everyone concerned

Reference

Kamran Nazeer, Send in the Idiots: Stories from the Other Side of Autism (Bloomsbury, 2006), pp 147-150.

Seen and heard: September 2013

Cognition: An Erica Reed Thriller, Episode 1 The Hangman - tremendous point-and-click adventure game (see this trailer and this review), on which Jane Jensen (celebrated game auteur) was a consultant. Worked beautifully on the iPad too. And best of all, I still have three more episodes to go...

Active Hope: How to Face the Mess We're In Without Going Crazy, by Joanna Macy and Chris Johnstone - book based on their workshops of the past few years. I used to be a big fan of Joanna Macy's marriage of Buddhism and systems theory, but I found this disappointing: the spiritual process is sound enough, but environmental activism isn't where I am right now. The British doctor and psychotherapist Chris Johnstone seems to have introduced another note to her West Coast philosophy; I think he may be the one to follow up at this point.

Banyalbufar fiesta, celebrating both a hundred years as an independent parish (hence a Solemn Mass performed by the Cardinal Archbishop of Barcelona, an adopted son of the town) and a hundred years of electrification. Events and entertainments included water slides for the kids, a magic show with Albert the Magician, a variety night opening with the town's primary school children performing Gangnam Style, and a dance evening ending only at 7:00 am .

Culture Show programme about the new Birmingham City Library, the People's Palace. They seem to have created something which is genuinely a nice space in which to be, and not just something functional (for which the internet would be a more serious rival). There's some speculation that we're now seeing the rise of the "super-library".

Sound of Cinema: The Music that Made the Movies - skillful and accessible TV series by film composer Neil Brand, with detailed examples of how music and sound have been used to achieve powerful effects across the history of cinema.

The Young Montalbano - how could anyone take the place of original Montalbano Luca Zingaretti? Well, like this actually. The programme makers have done a smashing job of finding a cast to play the same principal characters at a younger age, and the stories have the same Sicilian sunshine look and feel. I miss the old titles music, though.

About Time - the new Richard Curtis film: not profound, but very amusing and well-told, and moving in a gentle, impressive kind of way.

Seen and heard: August 2013

Proms in the Park - with the Milton Keynes City Orchestra and Polymnia (in which I sing) belting out the popular standards (Zadok the Priest, Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves, Jerusalem, Rule Britannia); great fun!

Chopin Saved My Life - beautiful Channel 4 documentary featuring people for whom Chopin piano pieces have been transformative, including one brought back from a coma by the Ballade Number 1.

The BBC Proms season - highlights for me being Naturally7 (American a capella group, like a hip-hop version of the Swingle Singers); John Elliot Gardener and the Monteverdi Baroque Choir doing Bach's Easter Oratorio and Ascension Oratorio; Nigel Kennedy and Palestinian string players performing a remix version of Vivaldi's Four Seasons (which I though really worked, like Stravinsky's remix of Pergolesi's Pulcinella); and the John Wilson orchestra, delivering a belting full-force (double orchestra with integrated dance band) rendition of film score music both familiar and unfamiliar.

Miss Marple, the old Joan Hickson versions, showing on the Drama channel, still head and shoulders above the more recent pretenders to the franchise. I'd say the best female detective on the telly at the moment, except that Vera has just started a new season.

The Social Network, film (recorded off air) about Mark Zuckerberg and the founding of Facebook. Neat presentation of the thesis tracing the technology to the interests and social psychological needs of American college students, and since the script is by Aaron Sorkin even the rowing jocks get witty funny lines.

Salvador Dali's house at Port Lligat. Or rather, we didn't see it, because it turned out you needed to book in advance which certainly wasn't clear from the brochures. But we bought a DVD tour and watched that instead, and found Dali (perhaps through Gala's influence?) a much more grounded and practical person than his waky output would suggest.

Iain Banks, The Quarry. His last novel - ironically, since the events centre on a character who is dying of cancer. Nicely written, well-paced (with gradual introduction of the large cast of characters), and a gripping acceleration towards the end. The misanthropy of the dying character, and the sense of disillusion for this group of '90s film and drama students, is quite painful, though.

A falcon (? some kind of bird of prey anyway) in the hills above Joch, "turning and turning in the widening gyre" - now I know what W.B. Yates was talking about.