Tuesday 18 December 2012

How to use averages

We've had a baby; he's coming up for eight months now & I'm very fond of him. So far he seems to be be doing the things he should. He's nailed rolling over, is pretty good at sitting up and picking things up and while he hasn't quite got round to crawling, he's pretty close. I was apparently pretty retarded at those things, so he's up on me. He's a bit below average weight, and he's well below average for sleeping.

At least, I think he's below average for sleeping - neither standard baby books nor doctors tell you what the average is. I'm a big fan of averages, properly used of course - for example you really need standard deviation to understand cricket averages properly. In other areas, the baby profession is also keen on averages. They have very detailed tables of weight, height, and even head circumference and how it will change over time. It's therefore possible to worry, in detail, about the trajectory of your baby's weight gain, yet it's impossible to worry about his ability to sleep through the night (or rather, to worry about it with data). At the moment, I know which one I am more concerned about.

Depressingly, I think they do it deliberately. Weight is a lead indicator for health, so they have to track it, and they might as well get parents to do it. However, everything else may well be held back to avoid parental panic about how their baby is below average (we're guilty of this too; worrying the doctor about his changing weight position). Of course, just under half of babies are below average so, to put it another way, I have a horrible feeling we limit information to parents because we assume for they will fail to understand statistics properly.


On one level, I suppose this doesn't really matter, but what it means is that those of us who can understand stats don't get some useful information. For example, my boss has a baby about five months younger than JR, who already sleeps better. Good for him, but he needs to know that's better than average to calibrate his expectations of me (and others) who may not have such obliging offspring. On the other hand, A is of the opinion that being able to work out that you're in receipt of a baby that's in the lower deciles for sleeping is mostly depressing - there's not much you can do about it after all.

For me though, if there are numbers to be had, I'd like them. This of course isn't limited to babies, but with babies I think I'm right. It would certainly make conversations with parents on this subject less frustrating.

Thursday 13 December 2012

The eighteenth century

Were you listening to Today on Monday (which you should be every day save the Sabbath) and you'd kept listening to the end, you'd have heard an extraordinary debate about British history between Chris Skidmore MP and Trevor Fisher. Actually, it was a fairly mediocre debate about a suggestion in a report from an all party parliamentary group that we should teach history in a more narrative fashion (written up here, not easy to actually find the report).

I don't know Mr Skidmore, though I should, we were at the same college at the same time doing the same subject, though I was rescuing my degree when he came up not meeting first years - my mistake perhaps. He seems like a good egg, and although I don't agree entirely with his proposals, the opposition was extraordinarily weak. Specifically, his opponent proceeded to argue that narrative history would be 'boring' as if that's something an effective curriculum and effective teaching couldn't stop, and then - amazingly - that he didn't know anything about the eighteenth century despite having taught for thirty-odd years.* And somehow he didn't see any problem with this. 

I'm not surprised he's never needed to know about it; but I'm surprised he thought it was acceptable not to. Personally, I'm not a massive fan of the eighteenth century, but it's pretty important period. Immediately, and in rough order of importance at the time, I'd go for:
  • The French Revolution (1789)
  • The American revolution (1775)
  • Walpole and the formation of the Prime Ministerial office (1721-42)
  • The Act of Settlement (1701) & The Hanoverian Succession (1714) 
  • Union between England and Scotland (1707)
  • Union between England and Ireland (1800)
  • Plassey and the entry of Britain into India (1757)
  • The '45 (1745)
It's noteworthy that most of these fall outside the 'short' eighteenth century, 1715-1789, usually dated with reference to France and dominated by the dreary ineffective years of Louis XV, but that wasn't being discussed and if I were doing the continent, I'd mention - amongst others - the War of Spanish Succession, Peter the Great's modernisation of Russia and Frederick the Great of Prussia. Nonetheless, this is pretty strong list, and I've probably missed a few off. I rather think this therefore gives weight to the view that we should teach more eighteenth century history and history teachers (and others) should certainly be ashamed of not knowing much about it.

*Oddly enough, this was lie. Mr Fisher does know about the Eighteenth century, or at least enough to write about it. Curious.


Tuesday 4 December 2012

Bibliography, November 2012

BOTM: P.G. Wodehouse, Service with a Smile

A. Christie, Sparkling Cyanide
P. Kimmage, Rough Ride
D. Lynskey, 33 Revolutions per minute
A. Trollope, The Three Clerks

I wasn't expecting this. At various stages, I was expecting Lynskey, Trollope and Kimmage to be BOTM. But they tailed off, leaving it open for another Wodehouse, with another starring role for  Uncle Fred. It's really by default though because I've read so little this month and the others were flawed. I've because I am stuck on Clarissa, which goes on for ever (and so far) is pretty tedious. The others were flawed, respectively  because Sparkling Cyanide is silly, Kimmage only really comes to life in the final sections and then meanders, Lynskey can't tell the difference between a protest song and people just being angry, and Trollope, well, it's not one of his better plots, given it hinges on the setting of competitive exams for entry to the civil service. A shame.