1107: The Common Room

When I look back on past experiences, as I am often wont to do, one of the times I look back on most favourably was my time at sixth form. (For Americans, that’s the equivalent of whatever you call 16-18 education, and is optional; those who want to go straight in to work or training or whatever can leave school at 16.)

There are plenty of reasons that sixth form was one of the happier times of my life, most significantly being the fact that all of the dickheads who had made a large proportion of my school life a misery left at 16, never to be seen again. I wasn’t sorry to see them gone, particularly as their non-presence meant that I was left with just people I actually liked.

Our sixth form was based on the same campus as our secondary school, you see — it was part of the school, in fact — which meant that it was a lot smaller than a dedicated sixth form college and thus the sort of environment where it was completely possible to be friends with (or at least know) everyone. This was a pleasant feeling; it brought a sense of comfortable familiarity to the daily grind, and it meant that you were rarely, if ever, thrown into an uncomfortable social situation whereby you were forced to work with people you’d never seen before in your life. (I know some people have no problem with that, but as you probably know if you’ve been reading this a while, I most definitely am not one of them.)

I enjoyed the learning side of sixth form. The teachers were far more informal, willing to let us call them by their first names and, in some cases, confiding in us about students lower down the school that they just didn’t like. (One of our teachers pretty much believed that no-one under the age of 15 had any right to exist in public, and could often be seen tutting and shaking his head out of the window at some particularly rambunctious youngsters. Having spent some time at the chalkface myself, I now understand exactly where he was coming from.)

We learned interesting stuff, too. Learning A-Level Sociology, for example, was a completely different matter to learning GCSE Integrated Humanities, which was basically the same subject. We had hardcore textbooks and we wrote essays that included names and dates in brackets, like proper academics.

A-Level English was great, too — I enjoyed the language side far more than the literature side, I have to say — and we got to study all manner of interesting topics like the way children acquire language, pidgins and patois and even taboo language. There was a certain degree of novelty in being able to get away with writing the word “fuck” in an essay.

I think by far my fondest memories, though, are from the downtime between classes, during free periods and those times when we were avoiding going to the utterly pointless General Studies class. (I got an A in its final exam having attended one lesson out of two years’ worth.) We’d hang out, we’d eat rather poor baguettes from the coffee shop at the recreation centre on the school campus, and we’d mess around with the “brand new” (rather battered, old and crusty) computers that the (actually) brand new sixth form centre had been provided with.

The computers were a source of constant amusement despite the fact that none of them were connected to the Internet. (The Internet was still in its relative infancy in those days, and having a school-wide network for students to use was unheard of.) The gentleman in charge of the computers was a chap called Adrian, who couldn’t have been that much older than us and clearly didn’t know the first thing about computers. He’d often berate us for completely nonsensical misdemeanours, and warn us of bizarre things like the fact that dropping paper down the back of the printer would supposedly make it catch fire. (Uh, no.)

We took great delight at tormenting Adrian at every opportunity. He sort of deserved it, because he was an interfering busybody who regularly got in the way of people actually trying to do useful stuff with the computers, and his overly-superior attitude (and complete lack of ICT knowledge) made him a worthwhile opponent. Consequently, we often engaged in various acts of light cyber-terrorism to mess with him. We’d set passwords on the screensavers, set all the computers to play a full-screen video of a chimp having a wee in its mouth (I think it may have been this one, though obviously this was long before YouTube, meaning someone must have brought it in on a floppy disk or CD — I never knew who) before subtly unplugging the mouse and keyboard, and on one memorable occasion we spent lunchtime making a complete game in Klik & Play called Cock Wars, which featured two crudely-drawn phalluses battling it out for intergalactic spunky supremacy, then left it running on every machine as afternoon classes started.

Our crowning achievement in trolling Adrian had to be what we did on our very last day at sixth form. Someone had discovered how easy it was to pop off the keys on the cheap and nasty computer keyboards that were hooked up to our cheap and nasty keyboards, so we had the bright idea of leaving Adrian a little message on one keyboard, just as our way of saying goodbye. Said message ended up being “BOLLOCKSPANTSHOMOCOCK” where once there had been a normal keyboard layout. You’ll notice there are quite a few letter “O”s in that little sequence; this, of course, meant that we had to borrow keys from a variety of other keyboards, including those from different rooms. Sadly, we never got to see his reaction, and the Instamatic photo we took of the keyboard turned out to be far too blurry to make out the letters. Boo.

I do sort of feel a bit bad, looking back on those days — I know what it’s like to be tormented by teenage charges — but then I remember how irritating Adrian was and how he would completely refuse to listen to someone who actually did know what they were talking about when it came to computers. He was completely unable to listen to reason, and… look, he was just a bit of a dick, all right? You’ll have to take my word on this one; most of you will know I don’t dislike people lightly. Besides, we never did anything that actually damaged the computers; the only incident that would have inconvenienced him at all would have been the keyboard thing.

Anyway, yeah. Sixth form was good times. I miss those days, but they’re a long time ago now.

#oneaday Day 759: I Said Byte, Byte, Mrs Raspberry Pi

The Raspberry Pi is here!

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, here’s the official website.

Still no clue? It’s a little computer (and I mean little — it’s about the size of a credit card) that costs approximately £16 and is capable of outputting 1080p video via HDMI. David “I Made Elite, No Not the Call of Duty thing” Braben was involved in its development and has been a vocal spokesperson in the run-up to its release, but the device itself is the brainchild of one Eben Upton, a former lecturer at Cambridge University.

You’re probably thinking that £16 is pretty cheap for a fully-functional computer, and that there must be some sort of catch. Well, it’s not a “catch” as such, but don’t expect to be playing The Old Republic on this little beast. Boasting 128MB or 256MB of RAM and a 700MHz ARM processor similar to that found in a low-end smartphone, it’s not going to set the world alight with its performance, but that really isn’t the point of it.

Instead, Upton, Braben and the other industry luminaries who have worked on the project are hoping that the device will inspire a quiet revolution in computer science teaching. Due to the system’s low cost, it will be a simple matter for schools to outfit themselves with a veritable arsenal of Raspberry Pis, allowing large numbers of kids the opportunity to get hands-on time with a real computer and learn some useful skills.

This is a hot-button issue in the UK at the moment, as the Livingstone-Hope Next Gen Skills report published last year found that computer science teaching in the UK was, to put it politely, somewhat lacking. The National Curriculum prescribes that children should be equipped with certain information and communication technology skills by the end of their school career, but the goals are distinctly unambitious and, more to the point, have not exactly moved with the times. There’s a strong focus on Microsoft Office and little else — no exploration of web design, website administration, database management, programming, and certainly very little in the way of creative design work such as Photoshop.

Part of this is a cost issue, of course — even at educational pricing, Photoshop is still pretty frickin’ expensive — but that doesn’t diminish the fact that kids aren’t leaving school with the computer skills that they’d need to find jobs in the tech industries. They’re maybe leaving with enough knowledge to allow them to fulfil a secretarial role, but that’s about it. They certainly wouldn’t be building a website, looking after a CRM or even inputting data into a CMS. Any knowledge of social networking and blogging is done on their own time — and all credit to the kids of today, they take to it like a duck to water.

What the Raspberry Pi team hopes to achieve with the little computer that could is to provide kids with a piece of kit that is built for tinkering with. Many pieces of consumer electronics in the home these days are locked down tightly to prevent modification and experimentation — in the case of games consoles, users are even punished for unauthorised system modifications in many cases. There’s also a high barrier for entry to development in many cases — expensive software packages, development kits, membership in “developer programmes” all build up costs to a level unfeasible for the hobbyist to contemplate, especially if they’re not sure whether or not they’ll be able to develop the skills necessary to enjoy success.

The Raspberry Pi, running on Fedora Linux and designed to be expandable with all manner of external hardware, is a low-cost step that will allow a much greater number of people access to some truly open hardware with which they can experiment, tinker and learn all manner of exciting things. And even if they find that their brain is completely incapable of wrapping itself around complex computer-related concepts, they’re only out of pocket by £16 when all’s said and done. (Plus the cost of monitor, keyboard and other bits and bobs, but that’s beside the point.)

Hopefully the Raspberry Pi will convince schools to throw out the abject tedium of the National Curriculum’s ICT programme and start exploring more relevant, exciting topics surrounding computing. It might also convince schools to hire ICT teachers who actually know something about computers, rather than treating it as a second-class subject to be handled by teachers of completely unrelated disciplines as a means of filling up some of their free periods. What a brave new world that would be.

Will it be a success? Impossible to say at this juncture, as the simple existence of the product doesn’t necessarily mean that there will be buy-in from the people who it is aimed at. But we’ll see.

To find out more, check out the official site. You’ll be able to order one for yourself at the end of this month, and educational packages including additional equipment, documentation and all manner of other goodies are on track for a September-ish release from the sounds of things.

#oneaday Day 735: Enough with the Period Jokes

I’ve been using our new toy, the iPad 2, for a little while now, and I have to say it is a most wonderful device of much majesty. Like many others, when the original model iPad was first announced, I was skeptical as to whether such a device could be useful when we already had smartphones. No one seemed quite sure who needed a tablet device, and it didn’t look like Apple did either.

That’s because, as it turns out, pretty much anyone can get something out of a tablet device. My experience with this particular breed of tech is, at this time, limited to Apple’s entry to the market along with my Kindle (not exactly the same breed of device, but does what it does very well and is making me read more — always a good thing) but I can imagine there are similar benefits to Android tablets, albeit without the robust infrastructure that is the App Store.

Let’s consider what I have used this device for today. I have browsed the Internet on it. I have looked at Twitter on it. I have shared images using it. I have played games on it — both five-minute diversions and deep RPG experiences. And right now I am writing a blog post on it, the cack-handed image you see at the top of which was also created on the iPad.

In short, I’m rather in love with it. In fact, the only thing I can’t completely do with it is my job, since the sites I currently write for use self-hosted WordPress that isn’t set up to work with the iOS app, and this means I can’t upload images via the Web interface. A bit of a pain, sure, but at least I can write the posts on the go and put the images in later should I need to.

I’ve been impressed with what an all round entertainment device it is, particularly now we finally have Netflix in the UK. Should I find myself wanting to watch Twin Peaks while on the toilet, I can. We really are living in the future.

I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon, but the fact that since I’ve come home from Americai haven’t played a single PC or console game as yet is somewhat telling, and the videos I’ve watched on the big TV were simply to have them on the big screen — if I wanted a more personal experience, it’d be no big deal to transfer them to the iPad, particularly now you can do it over Wi-Fi.

A sound purchase, then, and not a hint of buyer’s remorse. I may be done with Apple as an employer, but it’s hard to deny that they make damn good products through that gradual process of refinement they go through over the years. I’m intrigued to see what the third iPad may have to offer, should the rumours of its release in March of this year turn out to have any validity whatsoever.

#oneaday, Day 304: Head-Up Display

I’m a big sci-fi fan, as many of you will know. But one thing always confuses me when it comes to visual design for sci-fi movies, TV shows and games.

I am, of course, talking about the “information overload” screen displays. Take this example:

vanquish2 — Look at all that shit all over his face. What does it mean?

And, from the same source (SEGA’s Vanquish, if you were curious):

vanquish-61 — Look at all that shit floating around her. What does it mean?

The future, it appears, will be filled with masses and masses of information floating around us in 360-degree 3D, very little of which we’ll actually need. And this is a pattern that is by no means limited to video games. We see it in movies, too. Any time you see a first-person view from a robot/android/cyborg/guy with mechanical penis that shoots lasers from the bellend, there’ll always be some inexplicable spinning numbers, wireframe graphics, text (inevitably in blue or green), blips or markers implying “scanning”.

Now, consider what a world where you’re bombarded with that much information in one go would be like. It’s bad enough having a hand-held device like an iPhone that showers you with push notifications, text messages, emails and all manner of other nonsense 24/7, but at least you can turn that off, switch it to silent, hide it in your sock drawer, whatever. But it seems that visual designers for sci-fi movies, TV shows and games believe that the future is filled with unnecessary, redundant and, often, meaningless information.

You don’t get sci-fi writers indulging in this, though, usually. Asimov’s Elijah Bailey never spent five pages worth of exposition staring at a green-hued computer screen wondering desperately which set of jiggling alphanumeric characters allowed him to open the door to his apartment, for example. If Charles Dickens wrote sci-fi, his protagonists might well do that. But, well, he’s not around to inflict that on us. Thank God.

In actuality, what we’re more likely to get, should we ever end up with head-mounted displays or computers in our brains, is something akin to a first-person shooter’s head-up display. Perhaps with the capability to install apps. So while you’re sitting in a boring meeting and not paying attention, you can be playing Snake instead. And no-one will be any the wiser, except when they see your eyes darting around to find the next apple. And when curious sound effects start emanating from your nostrils.

Actually, given the amount of time people waste with plain-sight devices like computers and smartphones, perhaps the ability to install apps into your own brain might not be the best idea.

So, the future then. Somehow I doubt it’s going to be quite the way it’s been represented to us in movies over the years. And that’s probably a good thing, since popular representations of the future often end up with most of us being horribly mutilated, raped and/or killed by machines/robots/aliens/demons from another dimension/the government.

The only hope is, of course, Star Trek.