SUSIE MALLETT

My visitors today

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Shrove Tuesday

" Shrove Tuesday"


Yes, of course, what did you think?

Today we made pancakes!

We counted eight spoonfuls of flour into a bowl, then someone cracked in the egg, another poured in the milk, and another held the mixer and mixed until the batter was smooth and arms ached.

We put cups full of batter into a sizzling pan and enjoyed the gorgeous individual patterns that appeared.

The pancakes were turned, not tossed!

We mixed icing sugar with cocoa powder, that in turn was spread on the hot pancakes.

Finally we ate them.

Still remaining traditionally very British, I ate mine just with lemon.

The Germans eat doughnuts on Shrove Tuesday, and on just about every other day in the month before, but in my evening Workers Group there is a slight English influence and we usually make and eat pancakes.

PS

The cleaner followed her nose and came in to join us.

Sunday, 14 February 2010

Reading pictures

"Torn lino"


"The potting shed"

"Old lady sewing"

It has been a busy week. I am trying yet again not to “mislay” pages in my notebook. Here are some more mixed-up ponderings.

Thursday, 9.15, snowing heavily

I am waiting for my stroke group to arrive. One of the five members phoned at eight to say that he woud not be going to risk the fifty-kilometre drive. I have had no word from the others so I assume they are on their way.

Only one of them lives locally, the others travel for up to an hour to get here, so in this weather it is amazing that they are making the effort to get here.

I gave myself an extra thirty minutes for my journey this morning in order to get here on time.d I assume that my clients will all need to do the same, especially those stuck in the jams on the motorway.

It is ten minutes before group begins and I am still alone.

Looking back to Tuesday's session

On Tuesday the same group that I am waiting for now were here. After they had left I wrote some notes on our session, wondering as always how I could put them into a posting.

At the very end of Tuesday’s session we had decided instead of doing our usual singing, that we would do what we call “reading pictures”.

We will probably do that again today.

I know my clients will turn up eventually as no more have phoned in to say that they have decided to stay at home. I have already prepared our speech and “reading” materials.

All the members of the group are at different stages when it comes to actual reading. Some stroke clients say it was a real life-saver to have discovered that, after suffering a stroke, they could still read fluently. Others have had to learn from scratch, with the alphabet, using flash cards and whatever fun things we come up with to get them recognising and pronouncing words and starting to communicate again.

It is very frustrating for these clients, as they feel very shut off from the world.

One of the methods I like to use is reading pictures. It is good for everyone what ever their abilities.

All my friends know that I collect old calendars for my work, so in January they come pouring in!

The cardboard at the back gets a coat of white emulsion and is used for painting and I use the pictures and photographs mainly in my stroke groups, for a variety of activities.

Mostly we use them for encouraging conversation, making up stories, developing our imaginations and practising the skill of asking each other questions. I use them for learning to recognise and describe colour, form and objects, and for describing and differentiating between seasons and climates, and countries and cities.

There are endless uses. We can cut them up into puzzles with anything from two to one hundred pieces. We can make a story board with several pictures. We can talk about lifestyle, countries, fashion and festivals, depending on what kind of calendars I have been given to spur us on in conversation.

You name it we do it!

Depending on what stage the client is at in a particular moment we choose the tasks.

In the group on Tuesday was a Russian man. Not only has he learnt to be a lot more imaginative while “picture reading” but his German has also improved through describing pictures.

Two years ago he politely refused to take part verbally, but he joined in by listening and he learnt. The others in the group, with my encouragement, asked him questions to which he could answer Yes or No. Now he still needs a few prompts from the others but can answer in complete sentences and is less embarrassed doing so.

There is a relatively new man in the group. He still does not use spontaneous speech and often needs the first letter or sound of a word before he can say something. He describes from his picture colours and forms, and answers the groups questions just in the same way that the Russian man began.

Then there is the lady who has progressed and progressed over the years, from not being able to speak more than one-word answers, not being able to visualise and imagine but always being able to read books. I can see the delight and pride in her face now as she describes in detail what she imagines about the world in the picture in front of her. She no longer just describes just what she sees on the paper, now she describes scenes and tells us stories related to the picture. These are recollections from her life or from books that she has read, or from films that she has seen. One day she will be describing unknown experiences.

Two left-siders

Then there are the two “left siders" in the group.

One of these men uses his hands a great deal to embellish his flamboyant style of speaking. If he remembers, he sits on his right hand so that his left arm springs into action, supplementing his words with huge arm movements. If he forgets to sit on his right hand, then it does all the talking and his left hand remains speechless!

When his turn comes, we are treated to the most amazing picture stories. He is very amusing and I have observed how certain members of the group have recovered their sense of humour through listening to this man. They relearn how to understand a joke. I have in turn learnt to understand yet another accent and also, very rarely, get the jokes too. When I don’t catch on, one of the group will have the “job” of explaining it to me!

The other “left sider” mumbles a lot in his spontaneous speech. He says thathe does this as he does not like the sound of his own voice when he speaks louder and clearer.

When asked what is going on in or beyond his picture, this client has always begun with the sentence, “ Keine Ahnung”, no idea. I have always told the group members that there can be no mistakes in “picture reading”. Apart from the artist, who is not present, they are the only ones who know at this point what is going on in the picture. It is their story. It takes a long time sometimes for this to sink in.

The "Keine Ahnung“ man still begins with this sentence, but now he quickly follows it, in a voice now as clear as a bell, with an amazing story. He is so eager for his audience to enjoy his wonderful stories that he now speaks really clearly and even lifts his head. I never ask him to take the first turn, he always needs some time to create his imaginary world behind the scenes of his picture,and to feel confident enough to present it to us. If he has to go first he starts mumbling and he looses his audience. When he is last he steals the show and all go home very jolly.

On Tuesday we had pictures of windows. I had chosen the pictures with clients in mind, some of them showing more detail to use as starting points than did others. Among others we then heard a story about an old lady sitting in a farmhouse kitchen, sewing, surrounded by all the oddments collected during her long life, and feeling alone. Then there was the toilet window, with the blind drawn. Inside was a pink walled room with only the washbasin and tatty linoleum on the floor to be seen.

To finish off we heard about the neighbour’s potting shed. The man had knocked on his neighbours front door in order to borrow tools to prune the roses around his own door. The wife sent him round the back to find her husband in the potting shed. On looking through the window he saw the neighbour trying hard to remove the blades from a push-along lawnmower so they could be sharpened. He knocked on the window and was let in and he gave the neighbour a hand.
Not bad from someone who a few years ago had no idea what to say.

PS

I wrote this on Thursday but the action had taken place on Tuesday. It is no longer surprising for me that a day later I also read about reading on Jennifer Theyer‘s blog, and this was then picked up on Andrew Sutton’s blog too.

That’s how the world goes round.

Notes

Jennifer Theyer-
Theyer, J. (2010) Knowledge quest, Roa Jo's Journey, 9 February
http://www.rojosjourney.com/2010/02/knowledge-quest.html

Andrew Sutton-

Sister Valentine

" One"

"two"

"three"

"four"

"five."



The Norfolk-to-Canada card that has, over the last thirty years, also been the Norfolk-to-Surrey card, the Norfolk-to-London card, the Norfolk-to-Hampshire card, the Norfolk-to-Budapest card and is now the Norfolk-to-Bavaria card, arrived safely!


I opened it with the same delight as when it first arrived in Norfolk from Canada many, many moons ago.

Thank you, Sis, I know that it was you!



Old Father Valentine

"From my Mum"

" From my friends"

As is the custom in Norfolk my Valentine’s cards to my family are in the post, pretending to be from Old Father Valentine.

I cannot knock on the door and leave them on the doorstop before running and hiding, as I should do, so I wrote “Knock! Knock!”, just as I always do, on the envelope.

The picture at the top of this posting is the Valentine's card that my Mum sent to me every year for as long as I can remember. After I left home I would always take it back to her on my first visit after February 14th.

I would place it in her mother’s old desk on the shelf where it belonged, where I knew she would find it the following year to send to me once again.

The last time that I took it home was on the visit in June 2008 when my Mum died, so I brought it back again to Germany and hung it on the wall where it now remains all year round!

There is another old Valentine’s card that has done the rounds in the family. It has travelled much further afield than my card has.

This is the card that my Mum sent to my Great Uncle who was in the Royal Mounted Police Force in Canada. I remember choosing that card with my mum. I was very young at the time, perhaps four or five years old. My Mum and her uncle then started to do the same as she did with me, he quite spontaneous sent the card back. That is how it went on for years, back and forth in the post between Norfolk and Ottawa, never getting lost.

I loved it when this card arrived on our door-mat. It opened out from a six-inch square to a huge poster. This was like magic to me when I was young.

When this Uncle died my Mum luckily had the card in England, so on the following February 14th she sent it to me. You can imagine how thrilled I was when I opened that envelope! I was to follow in the footsteps of my lovely uncle, my hero! (I always loved having a Mountie as a Great Uncle, he had such amazing stories to tell and he sent exciting new games and Canadian dollar bills in the post for birthdays!)

When on the following Valentine’s Day I sent this card back to my Mum she realised we were in for the long haul and not once did one of us mislay it or forget.

After my Mum died I had the card here with me in Germany so last year I sent it to my sister! I think she has caught on too, since I suspect that it is enclosed in the envelope that arrived this morning. It is on the kitchen table ready to be opened when I get up. I do so hope that I am right.

Watch this spot. If I am right I will post a photograph later.

PS

I just had to include the second photograph heading this blog.

Both examples are presents from friends who know that I love Marmite.

I love it best of all as thick as possible on hot, buttered toast eaten at midnight!

Happy Valentine’s Day

Notes

Old Father/Mother Valentine -

Saturday, 13 February 2010

Snow, snow go away!

"Spring sprung!"

I was in England last weekend. That is why I have such a back-log of blog postings to write. It was such a short, flying-visit but in the short time that I was there I met a lot of old friends and took a lot of rides down Memory Lane.

The friends are not old as in ancient but old in that I have known them for more than thirty years. As most of us hadn't seen each other for twenty-five years we did actually begin to feel ancient, although none of us really looked it.

We had all been friends in our hippy, post-artschool and university years. Most of us had not changed at all, except for the colour of the hair and, oh yes, and we all now have jobs. The long hair and the beards, the guitars and the paint brushes are still all there too!

Another funeral

Yes, I was home in UK for another funeral. The mother of a huge family that I has gradually met one by one beginning in 1976, died at the grand old age of ninety-five.

It was amazing how many of those "young" people turned up to say a last farewell to that wonderful lady who had covered the table with food, fun and laughter every Friday evening when the crowd all met up for the weekend.

What a feat that was: she had got us all together once again after all those years. We thanked her once more for caring for us all.

The funeral had taken place on Thursday afternoon so I had the three days afterwards to enjoy England.

A pleasant land

England wasn't particularly green but it certainly was very pleasant.

It wasn't white like the Germany that I had left and the temperature was well above zero. I didn't need my snow boots or my ski trousers, although I still wore my gloves.

In the churchyard before the funeral service I even found some signs of spring: snowdrops and bird song, it was magic.

In Germany today the icicles are forming again on the eaves. The streets, even in the city, are still white with thick snow. It all looks chocolate-box pretty, just as the snowdrops did, but I have had enough of being cold.

I long to shread a few layers, to see the sun again and feel its warmth on my skin.

I am so glad that last weekend I got a peek of the spring that is certain to come to us too.

Hopefully soon.

Thursday, 11 February 2010

Another hat!


"Me wearing many hats", Denver, Colorado
1st June 1988 by GS

" Me, a plinth and a bike spanner "
10th February 2010 by SM

The handy-man cometh

Actually it was me, with my bike spanner and a bit of power in my skinny elbows.

For the first time in over twenty years I had a client with me yesterday who was worried that the plinth that he was lying on was going to fall apart beneath him.

He really was nervous and, despite much assurance that not even one of the twenty bolts holding the plinth together had fallen out, I couldn’t get him off the subject.

I must admit that the plinth was a little bit wobbly and, when you have trouble with balance anyway, then it is certainly a bit disconcerting to have a plinth moving beneath your body.

So I asked him to get off the plinth. Out came my bike spanner, from the set kept at work for emergencies, and I set to work tightening up all the bolts.

With less than a quarter of a turn on each bolt I was able to tell my client once again that he had not been in danger of collapsing on top of a pile of fire-wood. But as he once more expressed he had nevertheless felt very insecure while turning over. I can’t say that I blame him!

Who MOTs plinths?

That was not the end of it. Before we could get on with our work my client wanted to know who was in charge of the furniture's TÜV (MOT).

I actually have no idea and whoever it is was not there on this particular morning, so on this morning this person was me.

I decided that I would keep the MOT-hat on all day. After work I borrowed screwdrivers from the Kindergarten and, as well as doing all the plinths, I did an MOT on all the stools too.

Unfortunately the ladder-back chairs are glued not screwed or bolted, so when they get wobbly they have to go to the carpenter to get taken apart and re-glued. I have not quite acquired that hat, not yet.

Job satisfaction

After the lying programme with the stroke group I asked them if they had felt any different lying on the plinths today than on other days. One immediately answered :

“Yes, I didn’t wobble”.

I had no idea that the plinths wobbled, even though I push them here and there a million times a day, take tea-time naps on them on Tuesdays and often do the lying programme on them. I suppose that, because I can move more easily than my clients and my balance is relatively good, I don’t notice the very slight movement (quarter of a turn at the most on each bolt).

Obviously, more than just the one client had noticed, but until today not one of them had ever mentioned it.

Perhaps because of the cold, dry snowy weather and the hot and even drier atmosphere in the room the wood has been working and the bolts have loosened only recently.

Whatever the reason and whoever the official MOT man is doesn’t matter anymore.

The plinths were wobbly but not anymore because the handy-man came with a bike spanner.

Apologies to my clients for any discomfort caused and I hope that they will tell me earlier next time.

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Just a note on upbringing

" Dreaming of a different season" by Susie Mallett

Sometimes I find things in my note book that I have just jotted down on my travels. They are thoughts that I do not want to lose. Sometimes I have no idea where they appear from or where they are going. Many remain in my note book. That seems to me a shame.

So here is one of them.

Thinking about Kindergartens

“ Parents of non-disabled children send their children to a Kindergarten that is more often than not decided upon for its convenience. Chosen because of its nearness to home, to grand-parents or to work, or because a sibling is already there. It is not necessarily chosen because the upbringing that the children will receive there reflects in any way their own values and ideas on upbringing.

The time the children spend in Kindergarten can be up to eight or even nine hours each day. Despite this the parents believe that they have enough hours left in the day, and at weekends, to influence their children’s lives and to help them to grow up with the values important to the family.

In most cases this is true.

With the disabled children who are attending conductive groups it is a completely different kettle of fish.

Parents choose conductive upbringing as the method thatthey want to use to bring up their children.

Or do they?

They do choose for their children a conductive Kindergarten and the children are in a conductive environment for eight hours a day.

So far so good.

What happens when the children go home? Are these children still in a conductive environment? Are the parents of these children also convinced that they have enough time with the children in the afternoons and at weekends so the values important to the family are learnt?

We hope so. The conductive environment at Kindergarten and the conductive upbringing that the parents have chosen must run hand in hand.

There must be enough communication and teaching and learning going on so that this transition from what goes on in one place, the Kindergarten, to the other, the home, can take place.”

I have no idea what sparked this piece of writing.

Thinking about conductive upbringings

Perhaps I wrote it because I have been thinking recently about the children who boarded at the Petö Institute when I was studying there. I was thinking about how some of them went home on some weekends, others less often. Apart from on the odd weekends, their Kindergarten lives and “home” (PAI) lives, were both conductive, led by conductors.

I wondered how many of the people who went to the Petö Institue to observe groups, actually realised this. , those people who went home and wanted this method for their own families and for others in their home town or country.

I was wondering how many of the visitors really understood that they were actually witnessing of the way that the children “lived”. Did they understand that they themselves were guests in the homes of these children and were being privileged with a glimpse into their lives, living it just as they did every minute of every day. Conductively.

I think that I was pondering a lot about the best methods of delivering a conductive upbringing. My conclusion at that moment was that a combination of an integrative Kindergarten and a lot of input at home could be the best answer. As with everything conductive things change and I expect that next week I will come upon a different note in my notebook, looking for somewhere to be expressed.

Tuesday, 9 February 2010

Just a paragraph on intention

"A ray of sunshine" by Susie Mallett
By way of introduction

It is so good to work so closely with the integrated Montessori-Petö Kindergarten. The conductive group-room is in the same building just across the hall. We share the same playground, garden and photocopy machine! We meet each other many times during the day. I always go in to say "Hello" as I arrive and sign myself in, so the early-morning children know me well.

I am often asked to help out, especially at lunchtimes or to help on special arty projects.

Each morning for the past three weeks my conductor colleague and I have had the four-year-old integrative children in the conductive group. The other kindergarten children peep in the door when ever they get the chance, to see what we are up to.

Many of them, given the chance would love to join us and many of them would certainly benefit from doing so, especially the clumsy ones and those with a wiggly bottoms who cannot keep still for two seconds. I would love to invite them to join us but I don’t think that this would go down well with several people.

What is this introduction all about?

It is simply just to say I love having this opportunity to observe non-disabled children. It is one more of the special presents that I receive from my work.

Speaking and singing and and rhythm

On Sunday morning over breakfast I was leafing through two books that I have never had in my hands before. In both cases the book fell open at a page with short paragraphs on rhythmic intention and CE.

In most writings on CE you will find only short paragraphs on this subject.

This was just not something that was talked about an awful lot during my training. It was naturally part and parcel of practice and that is how I understand it.... part and parcel of life, all our lives. Part and parcel of the life that I observe in the Kindergarten.

Using some kind of accompanying sounds, noises, words or songs is nothing unusual when communicating with children. Parents do this naturally from the moment their babies are born.

How many galloping, riding rhymes are there? Or rocking lulabies? Most children’s songs, rhymes and verse involve some kind of movements or rhythm-making.

Nursery rhymes use music and rhythm to encourage the development of balance, or to strengthen muscles, or to improve coordination. Or even to encourage a state of relaxation and sleep.

Songs are sung while pushing a swing, the words encouraging the bending and stretching of legs. A blackbird flies down from above to nip noses, encouraging the use of pinching movements with the thumb and fingers. Toddlers sit on the knees of adults, imagining this is their horse. A song is sung about the different ways in whichhorses are ridden by different people ,and the children do their best to imitate without falling off, while all the time they are improving the strength in their trunk muscles and their sense of balance.

All children are using rhythmic intention from the earliest possible age while playing with their parents. While playing with siblings and the extended family.

Intending

When children are older and begin to play alone it is possible to observe them doing their own intending. Who hasn’t seen from a distance the moving lips as children speak or just mouth the words as they execute something new, or as they sing the special songs that go with their games?

They use the speech to give a rhythm and a purpose to their actions.

And what about when children begin to read, write and arithmatise?

Here again they talk out loud to themselves, almost continuously, until they have internalised everything.

Children need to read and pronounce the letters out loud and hear what they are reading before they begin to recognise words as patterns as adults do. They give a rhythm to their tasks by speaking or just mouthing words long after they have reached this stage of internalising. Some adults do this too. I do it often myself when reading poetry, until I establish the rhythm of the piece that I am reading.

So, here's how we sew!

Recently I was teaching a group of children to sew.

How differently they all learnt.

An athetoid child not once put the needle back into the cloth from the wrong side. She understood from the start what to do. Her difficulties lie in the physical process of grasping her extra-large needle and moving her sewing frame up and down to get herself into the correct position for the next stitch.

Diplegic children, now that is a completely different story. They tend to talk. In fact they tend to talk a lot. The diplegic child in this sewing group knew from the start what to do too. He had to talk his way through each stage. He knew that he needed to do this to overcome the difficulties that he sometimes with turning and with looking underneath and on top, and his difficulties distinguishing left from right etc.

It appears at first that, despite their glasses, children like this still have problems with their sight. They do have problems seeing and looking and understanding what they see, but these are problems solved by doing, by practising, by doing lots of looking, seeing and touching, and have nothing to do with needing a new pair of glasses.

The child in question would sew all afternoon, given the chance. He loves it. He is absolutely intrigued with the patterns that he can make with a needle and thread. He accompanies each stitch with his very own form of intending. It goes a bit like this:

If I go in here I will make another narrow stripe.

If I turn over now I can snatch the needle and put it back in.

No, don’t go in there or the stripe will be too wide.

Come out here and snatch the needle again and pull it tight.

That makes another nice stripy pattern.

Every so often he stops talking to himself, and say to me:

Oops, can you help me!

Yes, in the beginning I initiate this speaking. The athetoid children internalise it immediately. But for the others I continuously give instructions to turn and put the needle in, and turn and pull it out, until they too take over for themselves in their own way of out-loud or internalised talking or singing. They find a rhythm and it helps them to concentrate, therefore they make less mistakes.

When I begin teaching sewing we just stitch anywhere on the cloth, just to get the rhythm of turning and sticking in the needle. As we get the hang of it then we venture on to more complicated works of art! All the time, if it is needed, then verbal or internalised intending takes place.

Words and actions for all

Not only disabled children accompany their actions with words, it is not only in conductive pedagogy that we see this in use.

Most children will do this especially when playing intensely on their own. I find such situations is the ideal opportunity for me to observe how they do it and learn from them how I might encourage our “Petö” children to do the same. Most parents initiate it too. We do it when singing "Row, row, row the boat", "Hickory-dickory-dock", "Ring-a ring-a-roses" etc., etc., etc.

Often when I speak about conductive pedagogy I say that most of what I learnt seemed, usually, after learning it, to be common sense. I suppose it is common sense but I had to know how to use it.

We as conductors are not trying to teach disabled children to do the same things that non-disabled children do. We are there to offer them the experiences that encourage the psycho-social development of these children just as life experiences develop this in non-disabled children. There is no reason why the methods used to do this should be different. Nursery rhymes can fit the same purpose in experiencing movement, developing balance stretching and relaxing muscles with disabled and non-disabled children.

We just have to facilitate the actions in different ways. When working with adults we can just change the music. We can use the beat of a Hungarian csarda to encourage the faster pace for stepping or a Mozart andante to practise forms of breathing. We can also use counting or words.

Or if it suits, as with some of the children when sewing, nothing at all.

Friday, 5 February 2010

No cook book for CE

" ...but there is cooking in conductive upbringing"

I do have such lovely work, so enjoyable and so variable.

Sometimes I have the feeling that I am always a student, constantly learning and trying out new things.

I am me

This week I had several “conversations” about my “Weil ich bin ich” posting from last week: email communications, telephone calls and face to face.

One of the themes of these discussions was questioning what did Littlie mean. Does Weil ich bin ich really translate to “Because I am me”?

It was lucky that I was on the spot when she said it and had time to ask what was meant. Because Littlie can now talk and communicate well enough she explained it to me, but still with the help of her eyes and facial expression.

She took the time to explain because she wanted to and also because she realised that she was being pretty clever! It was important enough for me to have asked her the question and she realised this straight away.

This little girl speaks so differently when she comes out with her gems of wisdom. She is so clear and self-assured because she knows when it is something that she knows better than anyone else.

She laughed a lot during this conversation. She was wobbling around so much while laughing, but she was so sure of herself, that she knew that even though talking and laughing she was in no danger of falling over.

We both ignored the wobbling while I asked lots of questions. We managed to establish that she meant that she knew what she needed, better than I knew, because she is who she is, and I am not. I do not live inside her body and soul, she does.

She definitely didn’t mean “Because I’m me, that is how I am”.

Personal communications

When answering one of the communications that I received on this weil ich bin ich subject, I wrote how important this kind of communication is between client and conductor. I also wrote how important it is for me to be observing every second of the day, otherwise important moments go by unspoken. I also mentioned how, although group work is good, it is not the be-all-and-end-all and, even in a group, moments spent alone with an individual are very important.

It is a ray of sunshine suddenly appearing in this grey winter to have clients like all my littlies and my stroke clients who explain things to me. They tell me how they experience life and how a conductive life-style helps them.

This ray of sunshine turns into a shower of presents. I receive wonderful snippets of information from my clients, or I am shown by them how to change how we do something together, because they realise that it is better that way. Sometimes the changes are so small that only they can indicate to me what is needed. I wouldn’t know it otherwise, as the changes may only be feelings, feeling safer maybe or understanding their own body movements better, things invisible to my eye except perhaps for the look in the eye or the smile in the soul.

Personal gifts

I store away these presents. I will at some time in the future have a need for them and I can then adapt them to use in my work with other people. I shall never, though, be able to use again the solutions that I have found together with individual clients in the form in which they are stored. But I can be more aware that there are possibilities to do things differently.

Every one of my clients is different, their lives are different, and all of them are constantly changing. How we work together has to be changing with them. Because of these differences and changes it is so important for all conductors, clients, carers and parents to know that there is no recipe. There is no CE cook-book. You cannot buy CE off the peg.

A theatre of spontaneity

Conducting is very much like acting in improvised theatre (Stehgreiftheater), where the audience throws in a word or two, suggests ideas, and the actors use their stored skills to bring the work together. That is what we conductors are doing all day. We have a base of knowledge that we use to form new programmes for the children and adults. We start to build, depending on what gets thrown at us each and every day. Each day a new tasty meal is put together, and each day lots of happy souls.

We are observing, listening and using what we see and hear and feel, in order to create a hundred different dishes a day, each one suiting a client in a specific situation. One child may need the scissors upside down, another may need to hold them in the other hand, a chair may need to be higher or lower when used to do this or that. Things don’t stay the same for a minute, so there is no instant recipe.

This is an important area for discussion in Conductive Education. It is certainly something that conductors providing a service must make clear to parents, carers and clients.

Creative cookery

All too often it is established that there is a problem. Unfortunately, then, also all too often it is believed that a recipe can be found to solve the problem with a peek in a cook book. Then perhaps a conductor will be brought in to cook the chosen recipe. But then again perhaps not.

Conductive Education does not work like this. There is certainly no cook book and certainly no free gift taped on the cover, there are no wooden plinths and no 1,2,3,4,5. These are not the ingredients we need. They may be our utensils, but then again, maybe not, just as sometimes when we cook we think that we might “need” a rolling pin or a baking tin, when a glass bottle full of cold water and a flower pot will do the job just as well.

A conductive upbringing most certainly does not come in a book of recipes, and certainly not with the cook-cum-conductor thrown in.

I can at times feel that I am working to a recipe, but then I find that there are ingredients missing, the grandma or the sister or the dad, the home life or the school. Then the recipe doesn’t work. The cake doesn’t rise or the dish has an odd taste to it. A conductive upbringing needs to include everything in someone’s life and must be always changing to accommodate every change that takes place.

Of course there are lots of ideas that we can pass on from conductor to conductor, from client to client. There are, however, no recipes to write down, saying that this will be suitable for such and such or for someone else in a similar situation. It usually isn’t!

All change, all the time

CE is about change. It is about observing the changes, and listening to communications about making changes. It is about making new changes because other changes have taken place because of the last changes.....

If a child can stand up and then discovers how to use the hands while standing, then next time the opportunity arises the same child can have a go at baking bread, or playing with a dolls house standing up instead of sitting on a chair or on the floor.

If there is a problem here, I do not know whether it comes from the conductors or from the people they provide a service for. It is a bit of a chicken-and-egg story. In many situations parents, centre-managers, teachers, whoever the customer is, decide that they want this method that they have seen working on television, at a summer camp or in Budapest. They see clients developing but do not necessarily understand why and how. They perhaps do not understand how they are going to achieve such success in their own setting, so they wonder whether perhaps they can buy a cookbook!

Some perhaps get themselves a meat-and-two-veg cook book, and then employ a Michelin-star chef to cook the recipes in it.

Ask any cook

But we cannot choose any single recipe to fit the bill in our work, and neither can the wrong ingredients be given to a chef with the expectation that a well-balanced meal will be produced.
Conductors need to be instrumental in the planning of how a conductive upbringing is to be provided from the word go, not brought in to provide a service that has been decided in advance by non-conductors.

Monday, 1 February 2010

This posting is for James, Blues's Dad














More toiletries, courtesy of Big Sis
Thank you...

...to Sis for sending me not only a wonderful selection of photos of a small part of her toilet collection, but also for the parcel that was delivered this morning. The one that has been travelling by snail-mail since the first week of January and we has just about given up on!

The long-awaited tea bags finally reached their final destination. I was very much tempted to eat the surprise hot-cross bun that I discovered between the leaves, but I resisted. It was very stale having a eat-by-date of January 7th! Wherever has it been for a month?

Toilet tour

The first pictures in the series above show the ceramic toilet with flush that I created, with technical assistance from a friend, for Big Sis's forthieth birthday.
After the home-made flusher comes a picture of the toilet-seat mirror, complete with shelf, that we found for her here in Nürnberg. The history of the others I don't really know, some I have found at car-boot sales and in toyshops, and I think that the majority are presents from family and friends. I suspect that the po with the feather is from our Mum.

Perhaps there are more toiletries in store

I seem to remember that Andrew Sutton said in his "searching for the Gents" posting, that today is the day that he would be making a visit to the Palace of Westminster. The toilets of this building, he said, are familiar to him, no chance then, he thought, of getting lost and being bullied into thinking about who he is.

Andrew, I hope you behaved according to the Palace code and wore your badge for all and sundry to see, thus avoiding questioning your identity.