Sunday evening, all homework done, no more sport on TV, every scrap of food and drop of booze in the house consumed, so just to share this with you. A delightful ex-colleague hails from the US of A. A man of many moods and facets, he can be as high-falutin' as Henry James, as down-home as Mark Twain, as pithy as Emily Dickinson, as pissy as Ernesto Hemingway. His new workplace is an MYP flagship where the dogma is taken very seriously indeed, a kind of IBO madrassa. He himself is an eccentric and spellbinding teacher of the old school. He was called in to the office of the Commissar (to change similes), a humourless lady with the purest of ideological backgrounds. She said, "Mr Lincoln, you need to adapt your classroom practice to the MYP. No longer do we teachers entertain and instruct the class from the front, as master of ceremonies. The children need to be the protagonists or they will never become independent learners arnd risk takers. You could start by facilitating research activities in small groups." "Ahhh, group work!", he ejaculated. "Jus' love it! Y'know, it ain't so very new eether - why, when I was but a cub back in Tennessee in the 60s, the good ole dame at my elementary school would go, "Chillun, get y'selves into groups of fou", and I'd be like, "Yooo, HOT DAMN, time to DICK-AROUND !" I have his reference ready on my desktop.