Monday, July 16, 2007
YOUNG people in the Northern Hemisphere and in some schools in Brunei are a week into the long summer break. Exams are over and can be forgotten until that fateful day in August. Students who took Advanced Extension Awards are too clever by half and have only themselves to blame. For us ordinary mortals it is time to plan our escape.
Holidays are the bedrock of sanity and allow us to recharge our batteries. I always think it is a good idea to spend some holiday time doing absolutely nothing. Sandflies permitting, it is relaxing to sit on the Cob at Muara and stare out to sea. There is no better way of restoring a sense of proportion than watching the motion of the waves. I once did this from the decks of the Queen Mary II in the middle of the Atlantic: the sea was a constantly shifting scene and never for a moment dull. One of the best poems I know on doing nothing is by Henry Davies (1871-1940). He went the whole hog, handed in his notice and became a tramp:
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
School children, students and teachers are luckier than most. Their holidays are long enough for them to forget about work. Terms can be so intense and all engrossing and weekends and evenings become absorbed into school life. It is nose to the grindstone for twelve weeks almost without a break. When students have finished staring at the sea, they might possibly get down to doing something productive. There are only so many hours one can spend in the Mall. They might read a long novel or a history book without interruption; they might learn a new language or paint a picture or write the first novel or learn to dive. Or they might travel.
Robert Louis Stevenson said this about travel: "For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move." It is best just to pack passport, money, a good book and a few clothes in a tiny rucksack and head for the airport. No need for suitcases or a clear plan. Will it be Angkor Wat or Borobudur, the tea plantations of the Cameron Highlands or the temples of Bagan? Do them all perhaps? Sensible sixth formers can manage all these destinations if they are careful and take the proper precautions. Alternatively, they might dive the reefs of Ko Tao or dine on barracuda on the beaches of Pangkor? Perhaps they are drawn by the buzz of the Khao Sarn Road or the hutongs of Beijing? Like Figaro and his wedding suit, teachers mark out their lives in terms, which they see as punctuated by holidays; there are some teachers, for whom it is the other way round. They are a happy band of men and women, who understand the purpose of leisure. One hears stories of captains of industry and high flying civil servants who, after forty years of taking an early morning train from Petersfield to Charing Cross, cannot make the transition to retirement. They simply do not know what to do with themselves.
In In Praise of Idleness the philosopher Bertrand Russell argues that the purpose of the school system is to educate us for the productive use of our leisure time. He argues that the world of work should be organised differently and that working hours are too long. We should have more leisure so that we can enjoy the fruits of our civilisation.
Work is certainly a religion in the modern age. The modern world conspires against those who would use leisure time productively. For most, it is parcelled out in tiny packages. With no more than five weeks a year there is only time to sleep, relax on a beach and overeat. Americans scarcely have any holidays at all. My brother-in-law, who lives in New York, rarely takes any holiday. Boxing Day, the day after Christmas Day, is a working day in many organisations. Go away for a week and someone will have taken your job. The UK is no better. Professionals in London work ridiculous hours, suffer high levels of stress and drop dead before they can claim their pensions. No employer is going to pay a highly qualified professional to work mornings for half the money. The economy just isn't organised like that.
The ridiculous thing is that the middle classes nowadays only spend a small fraction of their salaries on the essentials of life. The rest goes on expensive houses, cars or the latest home technology and keeping up with the Joneses. They get deeper and deeper into debt; and once on the treadmill, they find it very difficult to step off.
The modern world, led by the United States of America, arguably makes too much of the virtues of work. Stamina and efficiency in the office are qualities that are often praised, but it is also true that the workaholic is a dangerous person, especially if he is in a position of authority. If only all the technological advances we have seen in the last few years gave us more free time! Edith Sitwell, an English poet of the war years, listed her hobbies as reading, listening to music and silence. That sounds a sensible choice. If only we had time for hobbies! Russell concludes his essay with these words: "Modern methods of production have given us the possibility of ease and security for all; we have chosen instead to have overwork for some and starvation for others. Hitherto we have continued to be as energetic as we were before there were machines; in this we have been foolish, but there is no reason to go on being foolish for ever." He wrote these words in 1932.
The author is the principal of Jerudong International School (JIS) and can be reached at John.Price@jis.edu.bn
The Brunei Times
Holidays are the bedrock of sanity and allow us to recharge our batteries. I always think it is a good idea to spend some holiday time doing absolutely nothing. Sandflies permitting, it is relaxing to sit on the Cob at Muara and stare out to sea. There is no better way of restoring a sense of proportion than watching the motion of the waves. I once did this from the decks of the Queen Mary II in the middle of the Atlantic: the sea was a constantly shifting scene and never for a moment dull. One of the best poems I know on doing nothing is by Henry Davies (1871-1940). He went the whole hog, handed in his notice and became a tramp:
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
School children, students and teachers are luckier than most. Their holidays are long enough for them to forget about work. Terms can be so intense and all engrossing and weekends and evenings become absorbed into school life. It is nose to the grindstone for twelve weeks almost without a break. When students have finished staring at the sea, they might possibly get down to doing something productive. There are only so many hours one can spend in the Mall. They might read a long novel or a history book without interruption; they might learn a new language or paint a picture or write the first novel or learn to dive. Or they might travel.
Robert Louis Stevenson said this about travel: "For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move." It is best just to pack passport, money, a good book and a few clothes in a tiny rucksack and head for the airport. No need for suitcases or a clear plan. Will it be Angkor Wat or Borobudur, the tea plantations of the Cameron Highlands or the temples of Bagan? Do them all perhaps? Sensible sixth formers can manage all these destinations if they are careful and take the proper precautions. Alternatively, they might dive the reefs of Ko Tao or dine on barracuda on the beaches of Pangkor? Perhaps they are drawn by the buzz of the Khao Sarn Road or the hutongs of Beijing? Like Figaro and his wedding suit, teachers mark out their lives in terms, which they see as punctuated by holidays; there are some teachers, for whom it is the other way round. They are a happy band of men and women, who understand the purpose of leisure. One hears stories of captains of industry and high flying civil servants who, after forty years of taking an early morning train from Petersfield to Charing Cross, cannot make the transition to retirement. They simply do not know what to do with themselves.
In In Praise of Idleness the philosopher Bertrand Russell argues that the purpose of the school system is to educate us for the productive use of our leisure time. He argues that the world of work should be organised differently and that working hours are too long. We should have more leisure so that we can enjoy the fruits of our civilisation.
Work is certainly a religion in the modern age. The modern world conspires against those who would use leisure time productively. For most, it is parcelled out in tiny packages. With no more than five weeks a year there is only time to sleep, relax on a beach and overeat. Americans scarcely have any holidays at all. My brother-in-law, who lives in New York, rarely takes any holiday. Boxing Day, the day after Christmas Day, is a working day in many organisations. Go away for a week and someone will have taken your job. The UK is no better. Professionals in London work ridiculous hours, suffer high levels of stress and drop dead before they can claim their pensions. No employer is going to pay a highly qualified professional to work mornings for half the money. The economy just isn't organised like that.
The ridiculous thing is that the middle classes nowadays only spend a small fraction of their salaries on the essentials of life. The rest goes on expensive houses, cars or the latest home technology and keeping up with the Joneses. They get deeper and deeper into debt; and once on the treadmill, they find it very difficult to step off.
The modern world, led by the United States of America, arguably makes too much of the virtues of work. Stamina and efficiency in the office are qualities that are often praised, but it is also true that the workaholic is a dangerous person, especially if he is in a position of authority. If only all the technological advances we have seen in the last few years gave us more free time! Edith Sitwell, an English poet of the war years, listed her hobbies as reading, listening to music and silence. That sounds a sensible choice. If only we had time for hobbies! Russell concludes his essay with these words: "Modern methods of production have given us the possibility of ease and security for all; we have chosen instead to have overwork for some and starvation for others. Hitherto we have continued to be as energetic as we were before there were machines; in this we have been foolish, but there is no reason to go on being foolish for ever." He wrote these words in 1932.
The author is the principal of Jerudong International School (JIS) and can be reached at John.Price@jis.edu.bn
The Brunei Times