The Mathematician Who Came in From the Cold

This is a clunky, two-part post. Having thought of the stupid title, it brought to mind a stupid but memorable episode from my high school days. So, first the stupid episode and then the post proper.

Macleod High in the 70s, a post-war cookie-cutter-same public school,* had a film room. The room was larger, tiered and cloistered, able to hold about 150 kids – a year level’s worth – and had a projector platform high up in in the middle. It was typically used as a normal classroom but students could also be assembled there to watch films on 16 mm reels, with pretty good picture quality and atrociously tinny sound, almost unintelligible over the whirring projector. I can only remember watching two films, and maybe there were only two, but, for very different reasons, they both made an impression on me. It’s on the list to write about the second film. Here, I’ll tell the story of the showing of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. 

I have no idea why they had us watch The Spy. We weren’t reading Le Carré’s novel or studying the Cold War or anything of the sort. Perhaps it was intended to be compensation for us boys, for having forced us to read Memories of a Catholic Girlhood. Whatever the motivation, it was a mistake. The movie is very good, as pretty much anything with Richard Burton will be. But, even given good viewing conditions, it’d be a hard sell for a teenage class. Yeah, it’s a spy movie, but it is understated and talky and slow, with much more atmosphere than action. The viewing conditions also turned out to be as far as possible from good.

As it happened, we Year 10s were scheduled to watch The Spy on one of Melbourne’s killer summer days. It was a million degrees. In a crammed, almost airless room, and of course with no air conditioning. So, we all just melted at our desks, not even attempting to follow the movie, whatever it was, and simply trying to stay alive. Until the stripper scene.

It was an axiom of 60s spy movies and their kin, that at least one scene had to be set in a classy-divey bar, with a stripper in the background. It was a thing of the time, a cautious, clumsy sign of sexual liberation from the prudery of the 50s, but when sexual imagery was mostly understated, and a zillion miles less prevalent than the current saturation levels.

Back to us Year 10s watching The Spy. As soon as we caught a glimpse of the stripper in the background, we rose from our delirium and paid rapt attention. Certainly we boys all did, but I don’t think just the boys. And then, just as the film focussed in on the stripper, the projector jammed.

The deafening cries of anguish, followed immediately by the uncontrolled laughter at the cries of anguish, was something never to be forgotten. It was a moment of true teenage honesty, which everyone, teachers included, appreciated for what it was.

Finally, after some minutes of unloading and unjamming of the film, the movie was back on track. The bar scene was over; the stripper was gone.** Some more, more muted, laughter, and we all went back to sleep.

So, that is the story of the showing of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. It has nothing to do with what follows but I wasn’t going to not tell it.

*) In truth, not quite the same-as-all-the-others. Macleod High was designated a music school, with an orchestra and a jazz band and various other ensembles. So, nearby students with such aspirations would enrol there. That established a strong artsy subculture, which affected the school culture more generally. I sucked at all forms of music, and was a legendarily bad bassoon player, but I was part of this subculture and benefited hugely from it. But, building-wise, Macleod was clunky, boring as dirt and already falling into disrepair.

**) As it happened, the projector jammed at the very end of the bar scene, and the stripper would have in any case disappeared a half a second later. But none of us were aware of that.

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Recently, I have had a number of people being nice to me, and respectful of me. They have asked me to contribute things, asked for my opinions and so forth. They are seemingly of the view that I can still use my mathematical sense as I once much did, for niceness instead of evil. It is all very disorienting.

I never gave up the idea of “positive” contribution. I’ve always considered it an obligation to contribute my mathematical-ish abilities, whatever they might be and whatever they might be worth. I have very seldom said no, even during the period when many people were asking. This was not always enjoyable – it can be long and hard work, and not everyone who asks or receives is as appreciative as they might be – but it was almost always personally rewarding. But, as I began to think globally and, consequently, began to be critical of educational powers, there were fewer requests to act locally. Which then, after I fell off the Nice Guy radar, dwindled to no requests. I was not bothered by this, but I certainly noticed it.

To be clear, I am talking here of just a few incidents from the last year or so; it is nothing like the madhouse Burkard years. And, there are still many maths ed people who cannot stand me; I am not expecting a Christmas card from Honest Steve, or Lord Saffin, or the Clown Principal; I don’t expect the MAV or AAMT or AMSI or AustMS to be requesting a keynote any time in the near future. The overwhelming majority of maths ed people would still not touch me with a barge pole. But not everyone is now treating me in this manner. There are maths ed people, including some with some clout, who have been treating me as a human.

Why the change, and will it continue to change? I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps the ACARA and VCAA debacles, and my being right enough often enough, has had an effect. Or, perhaps it signifies nothing, and is just the random confluence of a few oddballs who failed to realise that I am the Bad Guy. Whatever, it is a busy time, and a pleasantly frustrating time. I am getting frustrated with the Jeckylling interfering with my Hydeing, and vice versa. And I have to think, every day, which character I am on that day, to try to avoid having my worlds collide.

I have no idea how this will progress, and I am also not sure how much I care. I’m getting tired, and old, and it seems unlikely that I’ll save the maths ed world, either globally or locally. At this stage, I’m just aiming for internal sense. One way or another, I imagine the confusion will be resolved and I’ll then concentrate on whatever God in his wisdom has determined. Or, if the confusion lingers, I’ll simply write even more posts about strippers. That should clear it all up very quickly.