Nurturing a misogynist culture

The story this morning on the front page of the SMH about the students at an all male college of Sydney University and their proud “pro-rape”culture was horrifying.  But it was also not altogether surprising. The colleges at Sydney University seem to be mostly continuations of the elite private schools – students from the city whose parents can afford to give them the college experience, and students from the country who could afford boarding school. And those schools have long been the kind of places that inculcate a sense of superiority in their students – they are deserving of their place at the top of the pile. The extension of that, in the male college, to feeling entitled to whatever they want from the nearby women isn’t that big a leap. Mary at Hoyden about Town (who has been there) describes the culture and what it looks like from the inside.

My personal reaction, though, was to revisit my thinking about single sex schools. I’ve posted before that I don’t want to send my boys to a boys’ school. And that’s partly been because I worry that boys deprived of female company for six years might be too nervous or shy to talk to women as the real human beings they are. But that’s not the worst thing that could happen. After six years with boys as their main peer group (particularly if they are boys with a sense of entitlement), they might think that women are subhuman objects who are only there for male pleasure.

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Also, go and read fuckpoliteness’ rant – much more eloquent about the sense of entitlement that is all over this story.

Setting KPIs

One of the things I’ve been doing lately at work has been setting KPIs (key performance indicators, for those readers lucky enough not to have to keep up with corporate jargon).

Coincidentally, this TED talk appeared in my itunes podcast feed:

Basically, Pink says that if you are asking someone to do something that requires creative (as opposed to sequential) thinking, then offering a monetary reward for speed is not just useless, but counterproductive. The main KPI I have for my team (from my manager) is “insightful analysis”. That means that I want my team to come up with new and interesting insights about our business, to help the business manage better. That is unlikely to be a sequential, defined task – some of it might be, but the good stuff really requires insight and creativity. So setting that KPI, and offering a hefty bonus for it is possibly counterproductive!

That’s the structure of remuneration at my company – set a KPI, and offer a differential bonus to go with it. But I’m starting to think that my previous manager was right  - make them vague, and offer a bonus based on judgement of the overall job done at the end of the year.

Flexible work

I went to a love in at work recently – 60 or 70 senior people from my part of our organisation. One of the topics was how to improve the proportion of senior women (as an aside, I found it pretty amusing that all the men at my table were shocked by the statistics – 16% women at our level – when we were at a conference with (gasp) 16% women – they were completely oblivious).

We had a fabulous speech from one woman who had made it to very senior levels (more senior than nearly everyone in the room) which outlined a few home truths. The most fascinating thing, for me, is that this was her second time with our organisation. The first time, she had left in disgust after coming back from maternity leave to a nothing job, with no desk, no job title, and being made to feel completely invisible as the organisation couldn’t figure out what to do with someone part time. Her children are now older, so she is willing to work a very full time job (although she takes more school holidays), and more importantly, she has the self confidence to demand what she wants out of a role – self confidence that isn’t easy to have coming back from maternity leave somewhat sleep deprived. But she did a lot of soul searching before coming back to an organisation that had basically discarded her 10 years before.

The powerful point about her story for me, was the importance of thinking about stages of life when thinking about flexible work. The woman who is looking for a very part time role now is probably a great asset to an organisation now. But she also has the potential to be a much greater asset later – her children will grow older, she will have more headspace to take on something more challenging and full time. And if you make it hard for her now, you’re not going to reap that reward later when she is ready.

We had a brainstorming session, and so many people said that they were all for flexible work, but the roles in their teams just couldn’t be done that way. It is much  harder to organise roles part time than full time. It takes more imagination. But you expand your talent pool enormously – in the short term a bit, but in the long term an enormous amount.

Edited to add a link to the article Suze pointed to in the comments below.

Low blogging

Enough of my friends have commented on my lack of blogging lately, that I’ve been trying to work out what’s going on. So here’s a self-indulgent post about my blogging habit and what’s happened to it.

I originally planned to take up blogging for professional reasons. I was a consultant, and it is always good for a consultant to have some intellectual property out there to show their prospective clients how much they are worth hiring. But my employer at the time hated that idea – not enough control – too much risk to the brand, so I did it anonymously, thinking I would still use it to develop my professional thinking. But when I actually started writing, it became much more personal – a way of thinking through my thoughts about lots of divergent issues – and forcing myself to come up with an opinion. It also had the unexpected side-effect of improving my writing.

And now I realise that blogging gradually became my conversation in the evenings, as Mr Penguin was spending 3-4 nights a week as a councillor on our local council. So after I’d put the boys to bed, I’d take the chance to start or join in the conversation about the world that was going on in the blogosphere. Mr Penguin decided a year ago not to stand for re-election, so he’s here in the evenings, again. We’ve had more time to chat. And I had someone in person to have a rant to about the latest world issue, because we had more time to fully develop the conversation. So I didn’t feel the need to rehash whatever it was on my blog – although I suspect I would have a better formed opinion if I had.

I also joined a choir this year, which I’ve always wanted to do – I love listening to voices in harmony, and wanted to try being a part of that, even though I’ve never done any singing.

So my blogging gradually slowed down. But I do miss that blogging conversation – it’s a different one, than the less structured one we have in person. So I’m going to keep at it, even though I suspect that my posting rate will stay pretty low.

Bad laws make lawbreakers

Miranda Devine had a rant this week about cyclists:

But hostilities were fed by the lies told by the Government and the RTA, which gave cyclists unreasonable expectations and ideas above their station. The former roads minister Carl Scully, a vegetarian cyclist, threw $250 million at the lobby, further fuelling expectations which were dashed by subsequent roads ministers.

Most bike paths turned out to be little more than white paint on a road, with no room for a bike between parked cars and traffic. But they sent a signal to cyclists that motorists were somehow in the wrong.

In Devine’s view, it seems the fact that cycle paths were promised and then built so badly that they are dangerous and force cyclists on to the roads is proof that the cycle paths should never have been built at all (she has a slightly more balanced view today, calling for courtesy from everyone).

I was pondering this as I went on my first bike ride of  the summer today. I am normally an overly conscientious rule follower. If there is a rule, I know  about it, and follow it. Daggy, I know. But put me on a bike, and I become the person who convinces themselves that the rules are stupid, and I am trustworthy enough to break them. For example, today I rode my bike for 10 metres on the footpath to avoid about 200m of busy traffic filled road that was a bit too scary for my current inexperienced biking state. I rode at a maximum of 10km an hour, and easily avoided the two people walking towards me.

But I broke the law.

Many cyclists go much further, and do quite dangerous things (to pedestrians – I still find it pretty hard to understand the motorist who is scared of cyclists). I know, I’ve been knocked down by a cyclist while I was a pedestrian. But the problem is that nearly anywhere you go in Sydney, while you are safe for most of your journey, there are spots where your choice is to do something illegal (but safe) or something legal, and much less safe. Cyclists get into the habit of breaking the law because the infrastructure makes it so hard for them to obey it. And then they get to the sense of entitlement that sees them knocking pedestrians over on the footpath. The local mayor says that gaps in cycleways are what caused the incident that got Devine so hot under the collar.

I’m never quite sure how far cycling can go in becoming a serious form of transport in Sydney – it’s very hilly, and hot and humid in summer. But it’s a bit silly blaming only the cyclists for their bad behaviour when the road system almost forces them to break the law.

A Swiss idyll

We’ve just had an idyllic week in the Swiss Alps with Chatterboy and Hungry boy,  joined by my brother.

We didn’t find all that much useful information about travelling with children there, but had a wonderful time, so here are the things we found as my service to the internets (although given the way I’ve neglected this blog lately, who knows if it will come up on a search!).

We stayed in Wengen, a little car free village above the Lauterbrunnen valley. I love staying in places without cars, especially with the children. They can run around to their heart’s content without us worrying about them, and the quiet is amazing. The train up or down the mountain was every 15 or 20 minutes or so, which was plenty often enough when we were on holiday. If I was going again, I would also consider Murren, or Lauterbrunnen iself.

Mr Penguin and I love walking, and we have trained the boys into being happy enough to walk provided they get chocolate along the way – fortunately there is a lot of chocolate in Switzerland!

Some specifically fantastic children’s things to do that we loved are:

Children’s adventure walk (also excellently blogged here). We caught the train to Murren (itself an adventure with a train, a cable car and then another train). Then we caught a funicular railway up to Allmendhubel where we found parental heaven – a playground overlooked by a cafe. From the playground there was a well signposted walk back down the valley through a mixture of picturesque cow fields and pine forest, interspersed with various bits of playground equipment built out of the pine trees. As we emerged from the forest at the bottom of the walk there was another playground with views across the valley to the snowcapped mountains of the Eiger, the Jungfrau and the Monsch. There were also quite a few swiss cows along the way, complete with bells, one of which gave Hungry Boy a curious lick.

Pfinstegg toboggan: From Murren, we took a train, a cable car, a train, another train, and then a cable car, to a little place called Pfinstegg. Although that sounds like a huge trek, it was a pretty easy trip, really – everything connected like, well.. a Swiss train. At Pfinstegg, there was a enormously fun summer toboggan run – if you really tried, you could get up to 40km an hour. Chatterboy and Hungry Boy both had to go with an adult, and had a wonderful time persuading each adult to have just one more go… We adults enjoyed it a fair bit too.

Also from Grindelwald, we had a second lovely day.  A cable car up to the top of  the mountain, and then a hike up to an alpine lake was a good combination of extraordinary scenery (point blank views of 3-4,000 metre mountains across the valley for most of the way) and easy walking. Then after walking back to the cable car station, we took the cable car most of the way back down the mountain to the Bort cable car station, and a Trottibike the rest of the way. A Trotti bike is basically a scooter with blow up tires, and good hand brakes. The Bort cable car station is 4.5km by quiet, totally downhill, roads from Grindelwald at the bottom of the cable car. Lots of fun by scooter (providing you have good brakes!). Before getting on the scooter we spent a very civilized hour at the Bort Alpine adventure playground, which (in what seems to be a pattern for Switzerland) has a bar/cafe overloooking it so the parents can watch the children in comfort.

Another option on the same cable car system is the First flyer – a  zip line ride from the top cable car station down to the next one. Unfortunately (and this is not on the website) you have to be at least 35kg to do it, and our boys are at least 10kg less.

The one specifically children’s activity we found that we didn’t get time for was another children’s walk – the Felix adventure trail from Mannlichen, but I’ve linked here for completeness.

The place we stayed in Wengen was a ski apartment - with better kitchen equipment than our house. Perfect for our little group. Here is a picture of the view from a walk nearby – on our first day, which was the only day with any clouds.

PS apologies to any German speakers who read this – I have no idea how to type umlauts using this software.

Music and Complexity

Last week was a very cultured week for me. I hardly ever go out to live events these days, but accidentally, I found myself at two in a week. It started on Monday evening, with a Musica Viva Chamber music concert in the Angel Place Recital Hall for 1,200 people from The Tokyo Quartet. And it finished on Saturday afternoon with a performance from the Lounge Quintet - a performance for 70 people in someone’s lounge room for a singer and string quartet.

The Tokyo Quartet is world famous. They played Haydn, Brahams, and a new(ish) piece written by an Australian composer, Carl Vine. I’m a big fan of Haydn, having played some of his sonatas on the piano, and studied his quartets at school. But I found myself reacting by drifting off and thinking about other things – nice to have some time to myself, but the music was background.

The Lounge Quintet, by contrast, is a niche group. They played 70s, 80s and 90s music that had been specially arranged for their group, mostly by Stuart Davis, the singer. I spent the whole afternoon concert intently engaged with the music, listening to the parts, loving the contrasting arrangements that brought out the different musical styles of the Buena Vista Social Club, Rufus Wainwright, David Bowie, Leonard Cohen, Elvis Costello….

It felt odd to be directly comparing the two experiences, but I couldn’t help it, given how close they were together. And particularly because you would expect the Tokyo Quartet to be “better”, more cultured, therefore more worthy of enjoyment.

The Lounge Quintet worked because everything came together. The atmosphere was wonderful. Stuart introduced each song in a witty and interesting way. But most of all the music was engaging to me. A combination of familiarity and interest.

It set me to thinking again about Flow, the book, and concept, from Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi – we are at our most content when we are presented with just enough complexity and challenge to engage with – not so much that it is too hard for us, and becomes difficult, but not so simple that we find it boring. The Lounge Quintet’s concert had enough familiarity (from the original songs) to get me hooked, and enough complexity in the arrangements and ebb and flow between the instruments – even in the many different styles involved – to keep me completely engaged for the whole concert.

When I first came across Csikszentmihalyi’s book, it made me realise how misguided much snobbishness about music (and other arts) can be. People can find enjoyment at all levels of complexity. Some musical forms have the wonderful characteristic of being able to be enjoyed at increasing levels of complexity. While others (and I think some of the Tokyo Quartet’s music fit this category) can only be enjoyed by someone who has spent a long time getting more and more involved in the complexities of the musical style. And some styles tend to run out of interest fairly quickly.

But if you want to be snobbish, be snobbish about the person who isn’t challenging themselves to engage with music in a more and more complex way. It doesn’t matter where that complexity comes from (rhythm, harmony, words, melody), or what its absolute level is. But it does matter for our ultimate happiness and engagement with the world that we are challenging ourselves with something a little more complex (in some direction) every time we engage with music, and maybe even the world.

The End of Mothers Day

For as long as I can remember, I’ve hated mothers day. I’ve seen it as a just another occasion when capitalism tries to guilt me into spending money for no reason. Fortunately for my family relationships this view comes originally from my own mother, who has a fairly strong aversion to spending money unnecessarily.

Most of the people who know me assumed that I would change my mind once I was a mother myself. And I have softened a bit. The card I got from Hungry Boy this morning that he made at school, with “I love you” written prominently in three places, was pretty nice. But the completely useless (about A7 size, if there is such a thing) notebook and pen that he bought me from the mothers’ day stall at school with the $5 that Mr Penguin had given him didn’t warm any cockles that I noticed.

I was reminded of a rant from Penelope Trunk (not about mothers’ day, about take your child to work day):

This holiday now strikes me as one similar to Secretaries Day, which is a relic from the days when there were no computers and secretaries had thankless jobs and the men who were having sex with them on the side always forgot to thank her in the spotlight for the typing, so there is an official reminder day to buy her a card. That made sense. Twenty years ago.

The reason mothers day is still such a big day is that motherhood is not valued for the rest of the year.  Apart from the desperate urge to sell something, anything, to mothers that permeates advertising at this time of year, mothers day helps everyone else feel less guilty about how little mothers are valued for the other 364 days of the year.

I’m looking forward to when mothers day has paled into insignificance because mothering is valued every day of the year.

Adventures in atheist parenting

Inspired by Deborah’s great series on atheist parenting within the public school system, I share with you this conversation with Chatterboy.

Me: Yes, it’s true, the easter bunny is not real. But don’t tell Hungry Boy, because that would spoil it for him. But how did you work it out?
Chatterboy: Well I know that the easter bunny is part of God. And I know that God isn’t true, so that means the easter bunny isn’t true either.

Modern Life

Behind me, sitting at his computer, Mr Penguin is at a Buck’s night. They’re all playing TeamFortress online (about 30 of them in their own private game). To make it different from just another game, their avatars are wearing party hats, and balloons suddenly appear any time someone is killed.