There is no state more impotent than being a parent of a teenager doing A-levels | Zoe Williams
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There is no state more impotent than being a parent of a teenager doing A-levels | Zoe Williams
A viral chart ranks philosophers by how “punk” they are, placing some figures as “a cop” and others as the essence of punk. The ranking cannot be verified, and memorizing it offers no practical value. Exam season creates a sense of urgency and helplessness, especially when trying to support someone heading into difficult learning. The experience is compared to being sent to scale an ice wall without knowing conditions or skill requirements. Earlier school stress felt familiar, but current study feels alien, with even basic flashcard tasks triggering fear. Support emails reduce to trying to be normal, despite the learner’s deep confusion.
"There's a chart doing the rounds on social media, ranking philosophers by how punk they are. Hobbes and Heidegger, it says, are basically a cop; while for Dionysus the Renegade, Marx and Parmenide, it declares: They're not punk, punk is them. I have no way of knowing how true this is, or whether Zizek belongs so close to Engels, for example. To memorise this list would be beyond useless, like retaining the instructions for a plane you have neither licence for nor any reasonable prospect of flying."
"Yet, here I am, trying to memorise it; because it's A-level season, and there is no state more howlingly impotent than trying to be supportive to people who are marching headlong into a knowledge inferno. If someone had told you when they were tiny that, one day, you'd wave them cheerfully off as they went to scale an ice wall, and you had no idea what the conditions would be like, nor any clue whether that was the right kind of pick, and only the dimmest sense of their skill level, you'd say: No, I will find a better way. I will scale the ice wall myself, and if I perish, so be it. And yet, here we are; there isn't a plan B."
"GCSEs were a different kind of torture, because all the material was dimly familiar, like a recurring anxiety dream from childhood, in which you knew the component parts of a plant but could only describe them in mime. Now they're in territory so strange that even the basics holding a flashcard, reading out a keyword, waiting for an answer fill me with complicated horror, locked out of the cathedral of knowledge and shelterless. Who the hell does understand chemistry, anyway? How can he understand it? It can't be more than six months ago that he couldn't use a spoon."
"The school sends out helpful emails about supporting your young person, and I only ever used to skim them, because how they could possibly approach the uniqueness of my cluelessness? But actually, reading between the lines, all the advice boils down to: Your job is: try to be normal. I'"
Read at www.theguardian.com
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