Jonesieblog

New National 4/5 Maths Qualifications with Mr Topping

• no more NABs!  Items will be on NAR and we’ll have to assemble them into unit assessments
• Nat 5 will not be Int 2.  Carving off of apps into Lifeskills Maths means that the harder stuff can permeate all 3 units better

Other random stuff that occurred to me or was said to me through the day:

• make textbook work richer by having pairs take it in turns to answer questions, explaining their thinking to their partner as they go
• use local carry-out menus for money work
• use a google docs form to perform something like a diagnostic interview with a whole class at once (pupils logged into GAE)

Quite a lot of ideas for one day.  I guess it made the early start on a Saturday morning worthwhile!

Stumble it!

I recently watched “The Big Silence” on BBC IPlayer.  It’s a documentary about the experiences of four people who volunteered to attend an eight day silent retreat at a Christian centre in North Wales.

Having been on several week long silent meditation retreats at Buddhist retreat centres myself, I was fascinated by the similarities between my experiences and those of the volunteers, and by the differences in emphasis from the two traditions.

The most compelling message I took from the programme was a confirmation of a long-held belief of mine:  that the human experience at the heart of Christian contemplation and prayer is exactly the same human experience which Buddhists meet in meditation.  Buddhists may talk about Jhanas whilst Christians talk about Grace, but it is the same experience.

I was particularly struck by something a monk said to one of the volunteers, who had experienced something very profound, but was unwilling to describe it as an experience of God: “The God you don’t believe in doesn’t exist”  That sentence has been spinning around my head ever since.  It is easy to set up a simplistic image of God then pour scorn upon those “simpletons” who believe in that image.  Much harder to open oneself up to reality and see what is actually there.

A monk talked about the pain faced by those on retreat when they realise that they are not as “pure of heart” as they might have imagined.  That certainly rings bells!

Something  one of the volunteers said resonated deeply with my experience of meditation.  She said “It’s like we are being asked to jump off a cliff, and God will catch us. But what if he doesn’t?”

The paths only diverged when it came to “special experiences”.  The mentors at the Christian retreat seemed to encourage the vounteers to dwell upon their seemingly supernatural experiences as potential experiences of God.  In the Buddhist tradition, the usual response to announcements of “special experiences” at retreats is a friendly pat on the shoulder and a “So what?  Enjoy the experience, but be vigilant that you do not become attached to it.  Remain mindful. This is not the great prize.”  I guess  that this is probably closer to the actual message given to the volunteers, and that TV simply went for the more sensational aspects of the experience.

Stumble it!

This morning we had 2 minutes silence across the school.  It was at the start of my lesson with 10 S1 pupils.  After the silence ended, I told my class about the silent meditation retreats I had attended, and about the school on Vancouver Island which has a silent morning for the whole school [I can't find a link to this - anyone help?].

One of the pupils said “Oh – can we do that this lesson!”  The rest of the class was up for it, so we did the entire hour lesson in silence.  It was a lovely experience, and the pupils were very positive in their learning logs.

Stumble it!

This letter was written in November 1943.  By then, Dad had exchanged the heat and flies of the desert for the mud of southern Italy.  This is the longest letter we have, and in it he writes a brief “history” of his time in the 8th Army.

Stumble it!

The previous day, the ascent of the Allalinhorn had seemed like a big deal. Now in retrospect it seemed like a doddle – a quick jaunt up from the top of the mountain train. Our thoughts turned to plans for the rest of the week.

This first week was supposed to be an acclimatisation week, so we wanted to get progressively higher, and in particular to spend nights in huts at increasing altitudes. But we were aware that Alpine weather is a fickle thing, so we also wanted to make the most of the good weather we were experiencing.

I came up with a plan: to climb two more 4000m peaks before the end of the week –  the Weissmies and the Nadelhorn. It seemed very energetic, but I was expecting the weather to get in the way at some point and impose some rest.

After lunch on Monday we caught the local free bus down to Saas Almagell, and set off up towards the Almageller Hut in blazing sunshine.  We climbed about 300m up the right-hand side of a gorge, only to discover that the route across from that side to the hut was closed for repairs, so we caught a chair-lift back down to the valley and started again on the left-hand side!  After a steep slog back up the first 400m of the valley, we collapsed in a sweaty heap for a rest

Resting on the way up to the Almageller Hutte

The plod up to the hut was relentless, and we knew we risked arriving too late for dinner, but in the end we arrived with a few minutes to spare, in well under the all-important “book time”!



Just below the Almageller Hutte



2896m and a bed for the night

At dinner, we chatted with a couple of French climbers, who recommended the route up Mont Blanc from the Aiguille du Midi as a good alternative to the usual Gouter route.  After dinner, we met a group of young Brits who were planning to do the Portjengrat the next day.



Alan outside the Almageller Hutte with Portjengrat behind him

This was going to be our first proper alpine start, so we organised our kit in the crowded dormitory then hit the sack, with industrial strength earplugs in place! This was going to be a much bigger day than the Allalinhorn, but I was confident about our abilities this time.

After the usual horrors of a night in a hut, we were up and on our way by 4am, with head torches to guide the way along the path up to the Zwischenberg pass. At this stage we were walking in a line with about a dozen other climbers.

At the Zwischenberg pass we turned left and headed up to the base of a steep triangle of snow, where we kitted up.

Kitting up on the Weissmies

The ascent of this steep snow was pretty straightforward, if exhausting.  My only worry was the risk posed by some of the other parties.  There was one particularly large gentleman being dragged up by a Swiss guide just above us at one point.  I changed our route to avoid them, as I didn’t fancy any of our chances if the big guy took a tumble!  This part of the climb was comparable to something like Central Gully on Ben Lui (a Scottish grade 1 winter climb).

We emerged into the sunshine and onto the rock of the South Ridge, which was technically similar to Tower Ridge in Summer (without the Gap!).  It would have been an enjoyable scramble were it not for the fact that the altitude was taking its toll.  I was feeling pretty worn out by the time we reached the top of the scramble and put our crampons back on.

The final ridge across to the summit was spectacular – a real knife-edge with massive exposure on either side.  We thought manly thoughts and stepped across, glad to be roped up.  Once the ridge had widened a bit, Alan snapped this picture:

The final few metres to the summit of the Weismies

The views from the top were spectacular, and we shared the summit with one couple.  Looking down towards the Hohen Saas cable car station, we could see long, snaking ropes of “clients” being guided up towards us.

On top of the Weissmies (4027m)

The descent went quickly and smoothly.  We could see, from above, some snow bridges which looked rather insecure, but when we got down to them them seemed very solid, and we crossed them with only minimal yelping of “keep that rope tight!” and “keep moving!”. After the snow bridges, we crossed through some spectacular glacial terrain – teetering seracs and gaping crevasses.

Looking back up at the descent route

40 minutes later we were nearing the end of the track across the glacier when we met a middle aged woman walking towards us with no rope on, no crampons and no ice axe.  A guide 50m ahead of us spoke to her, but she didn’t seem to want any help.  I would have been begging for a rope – the sun was beating down on the glacier and both Alan and I felt the edges of narrow crevasses crumbling beneath our feet as we leapt over them.  I guess she survived her crazy stroll, as there were no reports in the local news of any accidents.

We made it to the Hohen Sass station at about 10.45am, and sat down for a celebratory beer.  Now we were real alpinists!

Stumble it!