OU Summer School: the first day

[ailbhe]

We left the hostel in Glasgow early enough and went to the train station. I got on a train for Stirling and filled out the various forms in my Summer School handbook. I also panicked a bit. Then I got off the train and dragged my mountains of baggage to a taxi; he put them in the boot, which I suppose was helpful of him, though I honestly prefer to keep my baggage with me when it's so small.

I arrived at the University with plenty of time to spare; it was before noon, and check-in or registration or whatever wasn't until two, I think. Since my bags were in the boot, I didn't know which hall of residence I should be going to so the taxi driver dropped me off on the opposite side of campus to the halls of residence.

I got a lovely view of the lake while dragging my cases around; the map they gave me wasn't very good. And the signposting was awful; from the main buildings, you approach the rear of the residences, and there is no obvious way to get to the front - and only - entrance.

But I got there in the end. I told the girl at the desk that I was with the Open University and she let me have my room key, in spite of being hours early, and told me that I was on the sixth floor and that there was no lift.

"But that's only 4 flights up; we're on the second floor now," she added brightly.

Hump hump hump all my books upstairs. Hump hump hump all my books along hallways. Almost die as I realise I've taken the wrong stairs and ended up in the wrong half of the wing, but find a firedoor that opens into the other half and find my room. Let myself in.

A cell. A rectangular room. The walls are breezeblocks painted white. There is room between the bed and the desk to walk to the window. There is room between the wardrobe and the sink to open the door. Not much else. I unpack, and go to find the shower. One shower for what looks like 12 rooms, maybe more. Also one bath. Someone else's hair is in the shower. I feel worse than before. I have bruises on my shoulders from carrying all my books; I should have bought a rucksack.

I set off to find humans and food. I found the woman in the room next to me, and a baked potato. Later I wrote a journal entry

27/07/02 16:00

In my room at Stirling Uni; 6th floor, which is 4 above ground level. No lift. I have a sink, and there are 3 toilets, a shower and a bath down the hall.

So far I have met Chrissie + Keith. I first saw Keith when, on arrival, I wanted to take a shower. I opened the door of the shower room, whihc was ajar, and was treated to the sight of him weeing. Lovely. Perhaps he'll close the door in future.

Chrissie is very gregarious; she's about 55-60 I think. It's hard to tell. She took retirement form her job at P&O Ferries, is on HRT and has a great rough-girl haircut with red dye. Keith is also about that age, and has taught at the OU for 30 years. He's an academic chemist doing and Arts foundation course and finding it very tough, whihc is reassuring. I'm not the only person who thinks that claiming Shakespeare wrote his plays in prose is ridiculous - it begins to seem that I drew a short tutor straw.

I'm feeling like a fish out of water; I get the feeling that other people are sure of what they're doing, what the "options" slots on the timetable mean, how to find the places which aren't marked on the map. I don't. I'm not unhappy, but scared and lost.

When I arrived I had to cross part of the campus carrying all my bags - all my books! - but it's beautiful. I crossed the loch and looked at rabbits, ducks, the forest, ans some wonderful hills. I have decided to do the hillwalking exercise; it's masquerading as a trip to the William Wallace memorial, but that's on top of a hill. I have to buy a camera if there's one on campus. The view from my window is astounding.

Radio four is at 96FM here.

I have a headache. Luckily, Janice has loaned me her little kettle, so I can self-medicate with hot sweet milky tea. There are two plug sockets in the room, and the kettle lead just reaches from the plug to the desk. It doesn't reach from the plug to the floor.

16:40 A grey squirrel outside my window.

After writing that, I went to the "student briefing" where we were all told not to dismantle the University, basically, and then split into groups. I followed my tutor like a duckling through the corridors and eventually was seated with the rest of my group in a classroom.

We sat around, and then paired off to talk together and then told everyone else about each other. I talked very loudly and very fast, but couldn't seem to stop no matter how much I told myself that I would be rude, alienate someone, or worse.

Everyone in our group was white. There were two disabled people, one of whom was to become my best friend. I liked my tutor a lot. Everyone else frightened me.

We had a brief discussion on music and poetry, I think it was, and then all went for food. After food we did something or other in the classroom, but I can't possibly remember what.

Then, of course, we all went to the pub. Great tradition - I feel lonely and scared and am in the company of hundreds of strangers! What I need is a mind-altering drug! (Actually, a mind-altering drug or two would probably have helped). I met Susie, who is English but living in Ireland and was able to tell me a lot about how the education systems has changed since I was in it - apparently children don't go to school until they are 6 now, instead of 4.

Comments

[gothwalk.livejournal.com]

Irish education: I have a second cousin who turns 5 in late September this year. He wasn't let into the national school because he wasn't 5 on the starting date. As far as I can see, this can only be a good thing - I'm fairly certain there were kids in my school that weren't quite 4 when they started, and I was only barely 5 (Birthday in September). In Finland, they don't start until 7. Much more sensible.

[ailbhe]

Well, I wasn't quite four when I started, and because of that they never let me move up a year - on the grounds that I was already a year too young for my class. I don't think that was a good idea. Of course, I have other reasons for thinking that school was a better place for me to be than home, but even so, I think that my mother made the right decision when she walked into the head's office and refused to go away until they accepted me.

I can't wait until the day when they realise that categorising people by age group is completely insane and artificial and stop doing it.

A.