No... not famous, not yet. But I do seem to be in demand, more and more these days. This is either very flattering, or I am not charging enough money for my fabulous services.
I am so busy I throw files and drawings on the floor rather than put them away, because I don't have time to walk to the filing cabinet to put them in it before the phone rings again. The filing cabinet is two steps from this computer. The plan chest is just behind me. That is how busy I am.
What I am trying to say is that I no longer have the time to blog. A sad state of affairs in one way, good in another, a bit like being famous, I expect.
I will leave this blog here for all you lovely people to read, but for now, it's goodbye from Alice. Keep commenting if you like, I will always answer. Should I descend the slippery slope from A class celeb into the Z class again, it's back to blogging.
So much to do, so little time.
Lots of love to y'all.
24 September 2008
07 September 2008
Reasons to be Cheerful... Part 3
After the lengthy, painful, often demoralising and always brain crushing Parts 1 and 2 of architectural education, comes Part 3. This is where you prove you can do the job, by working on the job, so to speak. First - yes, you've guessed it - find an architects' practise who will
1. Take on a complete novice
2. Trust you to design a real building, see a real client, cope with a real builder and talk about real money (or the gap between what the builder wants and what the client wants to pay)
3. Pay you.
Not easy. Although from the practise's point of view, a Part 3 student is:
1. Keen
2. Desperate
3. Cheap.
In between working for said practise, who will want their money's worth and keep you grafting for at least 10 hours more per week that they actually pay you for, you will have to attend the university and
1. Take exams and write a dissertation
2. Go to lessons on contract law
3. Listen to a Quantity Surveyor for three hours without falling asleep
4. Try in vain to get feedback on how you are doing.
For me, number 4 was the strangest part of the whole thing. Once I did an exam, I expected to be told the results, but apparently this was not possible. The conversation with my tutor was surreal.
'Is it possible to know how I am doing, at least?' I asked, breathlessly.
'No,' came the reply, 'you might gain an unfair advantage.'
'But if you told everyone,' I said, 'then there would be no unfairness of any kind.'
'No', he said, folding his arms and looking smug, 'That is not how we do things'.
So I went though over a year of exams, working, more exams, lectures on quantity surveying, law and other things I could not stay awake for, without having a clue as to whether I was bumping along the bottom or flying high in the clear blue sky. Obviously, this kind of information would have been very useful.
At the end of the Part 3 comes the final interview. An external examiner (often from a large practise) comes in and sits with your tutor and grills you for an hour. You can be asked questions on absolutely anything to do with any of the stages of Being and Architect, from initial briefing from the client, all the way to dealing with complaints when the thing is finished. Mine seemed fine, the chap was friendly and we had a rapport, and yes, I passed it. I was lucky. When I left the room, I realised my clothes were sticky with sweat and I had torn one of my nails off without even noticing.
My friend did not fare so well - she came out of the interview in tears. They found a weakness and went for her like two Rottweilers. Interestingly, her exam results were better than mine, although neither of us found out until much, much later.
Is this the way to educate someone? Keep them in the dark until the final moment? How were we supposed to know whether or not to even put down for the interview?
Damn stupid, I call it - what do you think, dear reader?
1. Take on a complete novice
2. Trust you to design a real building, see a real client, cope with a real builder and talk about real money (or the gap between what the builder wants and what the client wants to pay)
3. Pay you.
Not easy. Although from the practise's point of view, a Part 3 student is:
1. Keen
2. Desperate
3. Cheap.
In between working for said practise, who will want their money's worth and keep you grafting for at least 10 hours more per week that they actually pay you for, you will have to attend the university and
1. Take exams and write a dissertation
2. Go to lessons on contract law
3. Listen to a Quantity Surveyor for three hours without falling asleep
4. Try in vain to get feedback on how you are doing.
For me, number 4 was the strangest part of the whole thing. Once I did an exam, I expected to be told the results, but apparently this was not possible. The conversation with my tutor was surreal.
'Is it possible to know how I am doing, at least?' I asked, breathlessly.
'No,' came the reply, 'you might gain an unfair advantage.'
'But if you told everyone,' I said, 'then there would be no unfairness of any kind.'
'No', he said, folding his arms and looking smug, 'That is not how we do things'.
So I went though over a year of exams, working, more exams, lectures on quantity surveying, law and other things I could not stay awake for, without having a clue as to whether I was bumping along the bottom or flying high in the clear blue sky. Obviously, this kind of information would have been very useful.
At the end of the Part 3 comes the final interview. An external examiner (often from a large practise) comes in and sits with your tutor and grills you for an hour. You can be asked questions on absolutely anything to do with any of the stages of Being and Architect, from initial briefing from the client, all the way to dealing with complaints when the thing is finished. Mine seemed fine, the chap was friendly and we had a rapport, and yes, I passed it. I was lucky. When I left the room, I realised my clothes were sticky with sweat and I had torn one of my nails off without even noticing.
My friend did not fare so well - she came out of the interview in tears. They found a weakness and went for her like two Rottweilers. Interestingly, her exam results were better than mine, although neither of us found out until much, much later.
Is this the way to educate someone? Keep them in the dark until the final moment? How were we supposed to know whether or not to even put down for the interview?
Damn stupid, I call it - what do you think, dear reader?
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