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Enregistrement W1984809435 · doi:10.1111/j.1745-7939.2007.00087.x

Kenneth B. Cumberland: A memoir

2007· article· en· W1984809435 sur OpenAlex

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Notice bibliographique

RevueNew Zealand Geographer · 2007
Typearticle
Langueen
DomaineSocial Sciences
ThématiqueGeography Education and Pedagogy
Établissements canadiensnon disponible
Organismes subventionnairesnon disponible
Mots-clésGeographerMemoirGeorge (robot)Subject (documents)BiographyHistorySociologyMedia studiesLibrary scienceGeographyArt historyCartographyComputer science

Résumé

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Kenneth B. Cumberland arrived in New Zealand to teach geography at Canterbury University College in 1938. In 1945, he set up the New Zealand Geographer, and a year later moved to Auckland University College to establish its Department of Geography. The New Zealand Geographer is privileged to produce, with Professor Cumberland's permission, extracts from his autobiography, Milestones and Landmarks, which is to be published in full late in 2007. The extracts focus on his Canterbury and early Auckland years. Some of the issues that he faced will have a ring of familiarity to readers 60 years later; many will not, even in an age that thinks itself greatly under-resourced. University classes then were quite different in character to those of today, and included a high proportion of both teachers and teachers’ college students. His work modernizing the teaching of geography at school and university level is recorded, as is the help he received from one of the greatest scholars to work in New Zealand, the philosopher Karl Popper. In 1938, Cumberland was part way through an ‘appointment as temporary junior lecturer on the staff of the Department of Geography at University College, London’. There one of his mentors was the ‘Reader in Geography, R. Ogilvie Buchanan, a New Zealander, an economic geographer, one of the best teachers and tutors in his subject that I have encountered’. Early in 1938, R.O. Buchanan received a letter from George Jobberns in Christchurch. It was an urgent plea for assistance in recruiting a lecturer to assist Jobberns in taking the teaching of geography at Canterbury to Stages II and III. I suspect Buchanan had not had the letter long before he came through from his room to mine in the new departmental building we had just occupied in Malet Street. Without hesitation, having related to me the content of Jobbern's letter, he asked me whether I could be interested. Relying on what very little I then knew of it, New Zealand had more attraction for me than any other dominion, and much more than the United States. ROB himself submitted me to no pressure whatsoever. He very rarely spoke about his native land. But a day or two later he called me into his room to meet Lillian Jeffreys, assistant librarian at Canterbury University College, who, on a training course, had found time to call on him. She made Christchurch appear the most English town within either New Zealand or England, excepting that the beach at New Brighton, and the temperature of the water there, were unmatched in Britain. And if I were a mountaineer, the Southern Alps were within sight of the college's staff and lecture rooms. I had already made up my mind, within a matter of hours, that if Canterbury College was prepared to make it possible, I was going to go to New Zealand. The appointment to the lectureship at Canterbury, on 400 New Zealand pounds a year, was soon jacked up. I was instructed from Christchurch to see in London one Dr Harrop. He, I soon discovered, was not only a distinguished New Zealand historian but also the editor of the New Zealand News and agent in London for the University of New Zealand. For me, Dr Harrop booked a passage in a three-berth cabin, which I had to myself from Tilbury to Colombo and again from Fremantle to Sydney, on the Orient Line's Ormonde. From Sydney I was to cross the Tasman on the Wanganella to Wellington. From there I had a berth on the overnight Cook Strait ferry to Lyttelton. The whole journey was to cost Canterbury University College the magnificent sum of 45 pounds! I left on Saturday March 26, 1938. Beside the wharf at Tilbury, was R.M.S. Ormonde, 15 000 tons, by far the largest vessel I had ever boarded. It was to be my home for six weeks, until Saturday May 7. I remember half a century later the horror and agony of waiting for the withdrawal of the gang planks. I cannot imagine the far greater agony and distress that my parents must have experienced. I glided smoothly away from them, down the Thames, out onto the open sea, and towards a younger land, a land, I hoped, of promise and opportunity. As night fell we passed a collier, the Consett, like Masefield's ‘salt-caked smokestack butting through the Channel’ on a chill March night. We glimpsed rosy chalk cliffs as the sun went down, and before long ghostly clouds of dull light, overhanging Portsmouth and Southampton, and thin strips of fairy lights separating a black sky from a blacker sea. The last glimpse I had of my native country for nearly 14 years came next morning as the Cornish peninsula to starboard slowly faded and merged with the grey of the ocean. The infant Department of Geography was housed in two tiny classrooms of the former high school. Most of the old school was now occupied by the university's School of Engineering, then the only one in the country. It also accommodated the Departments of Geology and Economics and a little theatre, the (Dame) Ngaio Marsh theatre. Dr Jobberns had a first-year class of 70 or so; he was happy, he said, to give the first-year lecture course and to endeavour to widen what had hitherto been entirely physical geography (predominantly geomorphology) by introducing and later expanding his programme to include human geography. He would also do the more advanced physical geography prescribed for Stage II. That left for me the introduction of a practical and mapwork course at Stage I and a course on the regional geography of Europe, including the British Isles, at Stage II. About 20 students had enrolled in the preceding February for Stage II. My main problem was that there were no topographic maps to read! It would be another year before New Zealand produced its first, and for many years its only modern, contoured, coloured 1:63 360 sheet (NZMS 1 Napier-Hastings). Before I left England, however, I had ordered class sets of sheets of Ordnance Survey and Land Utilization Survey maps. They were to be freighted to New Zealand. They arrived half way through the second term. With only 20 copies of each sheet, and a class of more than seventy, I had to repeat the laboratory class three or four times. I had also ordered, again with George's approval, some Hermann Haack-Justus Perthes wall maps of Europe, the Mediterranean Lands, the Pacific, Australia, etc. When these arrived they caused quite a stir. They were probably the first brought to New Zealand, unless the army had some tucked away somewhere. At University College, London, I had been accustomed to a class that was quite unusual in its make-up, including older students from many parts of the world, especially India. But the part-time students at Canterbury were different again. Very few were of normal student age. Fewer still were not working. The majority of them were established teachers, some were teachers’ college students. Indeed three or four were headmasters, and 40 or 50 years of age. All were keen; all were grateful for the opportunity they had at last of getting some leads in teaching geography and some formal qualification in the subject. One of the first tasks George and I had to do was to endeavour to secure approval for the updating and modernization of geography syllabuses, not only in the University of New Zealand but also in the schools, too. It was a ticklish business. In those days there was a strong and rigidly conservative opposition, both to the establishment of new departments within the universities, and to geography as such, especially from the systematic physical sciences. In addition there was also the traditional reactionary opposition of administrators; and, in the schools, there was sullen resistance to change from many who had always taught what they taught and were opposed to being disturbed. At Canterbury we had no opposition to defining our own subject and courses. The obstacle there was to the admission of geography to the faculty of science, and to its approval as a subject for the BSc and MSc degrees. The barrier was erected more especially by active and ambitious young New Zealand members of the staff, particularly in the Departments of Physics and Chemistry. Fundamentally their opposition arose from a fear that geography would, as a laboratory subject, become an additional competitor for limited funds available for equipment. It was this antagonism that later required my election to the professorial board as a lecturers’ representative. George organized that. Not having a chair yet, he, too, was a member of the lecturers’ association. My most valuable ally in this argument came from an unusual and unexpected quarter. There was in the Department of Philosophy at Canterbury an Austrian refugee who was rapidly making for himself a name as one of the most perceptive and masterful logicians in the world. His particular interest was the philosophy of science and scientific method. At Canterbury he had a most enthusiastic band of disciples among the younger members of all the science departments. His name was Karl Popper. Among the notions that he preached was the quite revolutionary suggestion that all theoretical or generalizing sciences make use of the same methods, whether they be natural sciences or social sciences, and that this unity of scientific method can be extended with certain qualifications to the fields of historical and chorological sciences. From my second year at Canterbury, I had a room next to Karl. We had numerous discussions about the nature of geography and the application to it of appropriate scientific methods. At that stage, Karl himself had not thought much about geography as such. He had been more interested in history, economics and sociology. He was interested enough in geography, though, when I raised the question, to read my copy of Hartshorne's recently published two volumes on The Nature of Geography. I drew confidence from his assurances about the validity and status of social, historical and chorological sciences. This helped me in research and writing, and in presenting to university academic authorities the case for the admission of geography to all levels of university study, and to both arts and science faculties. I owe a great deal to Karl (later Sir Karl) Popper. Not only did Jobberns and I manage to secure official recognition and acceptance of geography at the highest levels of formal education in the Dominion but we also managed to redress the balance between physical and human (or cultural) geography in the school syllabuses. The existing prescriptions – and so the programme of instruction followed by whoever, in the absence of qualified geography teachers, was designated by the school to teach the subject – emphasized especially mathematical geography. Both for school certificate and university entrance examinations children were required to learn and to be examined on topics such as latitude and longitude, the movement of the earth and other planets in relation to the sun, the inclination of the earth's axis, the causes and periodicity of the tides, time zones, etc. Elementary ‘physiography’ was also a major part of courses in schools. The only aspect of human geography prescribed was ‘political geography – the political subdivision of the continents, boundaries and frontiers’, a hangover from the changed political map of the world following World War I. There was no regional geography, no geography of location or of places. In 1939, I was provided with a room of my own at Canterbury University College. I nearly wrote ‘new room’, but that would be inaccurate and misleading. The college carpenter's workshop occupied the ground floor of an old weatherboard house in Montreal Street. Here he and his off-siders had their electric planers, saws and buzzer machines. Upstairs were three wallpapered bedrooms and a toilet. A desk, two chairs and a moveable wooden bookcase were placed in each bedroom. Here I was installed between Karl Popper and Ralph Winterbourn, lecturer in education and later professor at Auckland. Mine was the middle room directly above all the carpenter's machinery. I learned to grit my teeth when the saw howled and the buzzer whined. Fortunately they spent less than half their time in the workshop. One of the traditional requirements of taking science subjects under the regulations of the former University of New Zealand was the granting of a ‘practical certificate’. This was authorized by the teachers of a subject on satisfactory attendance and performance of the student at a course of practical and/or fieldwork. We were able to use this provision to require our students of geography to attend courses and pass tests in map reading and field observations. From the start we used the award of a practical certificate to underline and emphasize the significance in geography of fieldwork. We were able to muster three vehicles for field trips, sharing the cost of what then was called ‘benzine’. They included a Chev tourer and an A model Ford. These negotiated fords, deep and shallow, with consummate ease. They traversed miles and miles of roads that were almost hubcap deep in boulders or river shingle, and took us through rivers and creeks up to the floorboards. By 1945, it is a rather remarkable thing that all three other institutions had already decided, or were very soon to resolve, to introduce the teaching of geography. It no doubt reflected to a considerable extent what we had been able to do at Canterbury during the war. There was now an amazing pent-up demand for qualified geography teachers in post-primary schools. The war itself had doubtlessly stimulated additional interest in many places, particularly in the Pacific. New Zealanders knew very little of the Pacific realm, and of the oceanic environment in which they lived and had quite suddenly discovered they were a part. Since the Pākehā's arrival in New Zealand they had looked first and fixedly to Britain and Europe. Now they had discovered and had been obliged to take into account a totally new world in and around the margins of the Pacific. There were apparently archipelagos of countless islands which had strange names and which many, if not most, New Zealanders had not known to exist, and a series of countries to the north of Australia, not really very far away now aircraft were regularly crossing the ocean, which had large populations, and they lay in the direction from which had come the threat of invasion. There was an insatiable appetite for reliable background information about these and other places in which New Zealanders had per force developed an active interest. By emphasizing regional geography at Canterbury, and by equipping an eight-year outflow of teachers qualified to teach it, we had clearly pointed the way. And we had produced an informative journal, the New Zealand Geographer. It was devoted not only to New Zealand but also to Australia and the rest of the Pacific; and it had invaded all post-primary school libraries, and come into the hands of many primary school teachers as members of the society. We had demonstrated that geography in the university was neither the old ‘capes and bays’ gazetteer stuff nor a dry physiography and mathematical study of latitude and longitude, the tides and map projections. We had also transformed the geography prescriptions not only for university courses but also in school syllabuses. A personal issue now suddenly manifested itself. If geography was to be established in one or more of the other university colleges, would I want to be part of it? The matter was precipitated in October when Auckland advertised a vacant lectureship-in-charge. With Auckland calling for urgent applications, one could not wait to see if other institutions might advertise a similar vacancy to be filled before the next university session started. So I applied for the Auckland vacancy. Little time passed before I was invited to the big city for an interview. I have a quite vivid memory of meeting Hollis Cocker, a prominent lawyer and chairman of the college council, whose office then carried the title President. In his little room, just inside the entrance of what was still the relatively new arts building, with its ‘wedding cake’ tower, in Princes Street, I also met Sir Douglas Robb, the eminent physician, A.H. Johnstone and L.K. Munro, editor of the New Zealand Herald. Johnstone was Cocker's deputy and a high court judge. Like Munro, he was soon to be knighted. The then chairman of the professorial Professor was not at the but I met It was that Hollis was the in I do not there was any other not that I have been quite but I came away with the that the was to some extent a In any case it was not long before I had a letter from the me the and the opportunity of a of geography at Auckland University College. It was late and on George and approval, I the matter what the official and academic of the nature of geography was at Auckland on my no provision had been made for its or even other than the of for also that I might a wall or to as a teaching the university had also made a of pounds as a It had also the university's to the college by an sum to it to on its geography being of this at my I had the of such But the long had been So when I received of my I had the New Zealand and had managed to some topographic and, on my arrival in I had the to one or two sets of Ordnance Survey sheets from England, as as half a wall through London It was to do and to do it the extent of the in the college in 60 years its from one to no more than The next was would I be able to to use any or I managed to I a map room, a At Canterbury, as the first-year class in I had been obliged to use an room in the from the At Auckland the best the university authorities were able to in my first year was in a recently away from the college in a former United for in the Pacific. The had in soon the into the war. give practical instruction in the reading and of topographic I had to take the either from Street, or from the of to a With students and sets of no more than sheets of I had to repeat the class times. I did have the assistance of two They were members of the class who had in the force or in army and who the work of the class for an or more my of And they the of topographic maps to the university each class there were no at and the sets of maps were though, the of map sheets on the which at The first-year class at Auckland was a still more and than either my class at University College, London, or the class I first at Canterbury University College. or a of those were all one map work had to be the were out of the other half were an of on The rest were a strange of and much older than I. They were established teachers to some instruction and qualification in a subject they were already were of social departments in their schools, including geography and from and high schools, as as teachers’ college There were also some and I the new teaching both the physical of geography and the as as the practical course of I had to Auckland the office and the of the New Zealand Geographer. And with I was at the time was the largest first-year class in the college me with which to for staff, and for an that I would be authorized to the teaching of geography through all It had for many years been a at Auckland to require new to chairs to during the first year of their a formal not only to their and academic but also to the In this and was extended also to the of the new of geography. I it was the lay members of the university council, rather than the members of the professorial who were this they were no doubt to see what their new departmental the first in many and their in me, to I spent a great deal of time on that It was to a large of in the on I called it The of The was by then and later Professor of and deputy at When I was at Canterbury he was one of the most of the establishment and of the teaching of geography. His that years have passed Dr Cumberland came to New Zealand, a young from London, out on his of teaching and years they have been in both fields of The of the of his It the with a of confidence that under his new of geography at Auckland University College will not have been established in In the college to both a lecturer and a junior were Among them, though, were two I knew very One was the best student in his year at University College, London, the year I was teaching The next year he took and was a the army had to and Since he was now on an academic So was my old student and at He also had more particularly in the Mediterranean and on though, only had a second class He had applied for the so I wrote to to whether he would be to a junior lectureship with When he I was able to the appointment of both of and arrived in Auckland in They by sea, but on different Both in me of the laboratory course and mapwork at Stage and took the teaching of the regional geography of at Stage II. did the teaching of advanced physical geography at Stage II as as the practical and fieldwork. The next year when we Stage did the regional geography of course, and I to my teaching of the geography of New Zealand. took from me soon his arrival the teaching of economic geography. We all for at Stage III. I also soon the New Zealand to make assistant editor of the Geographer. I already had in the of in the not in took it in The was then years and on its From then I had a the college had been on the again. Early in my second year, before the arrival of the additional teaching staff, I was able to into for the use of the of geography. It was not It of two and a half of four army in the United used by in the Pacific, and the war by the New Zealand The were erected very under the great the main on what had been a They had of large sheets of – – the The sheets as The were the of the had in one half of it three staff and another little room for the first who us the next The other half of the as a lecture used by Stage and later by students. A second the Stage I mapwork The we a little In we were a lectureship of an junior and an additional staff We were also a of as as the of a departmental too, had to be So we were the of a as as a staff room just inside the entrance to the With staff and for the time I could time to again – and to again. I could also more topics and places for Professor Cumberland was the first to be a of the of New Zealand, in recognition of his in These in the published to his He known to New Zealanders for his of the Landmarks, first by New Zealand in copies were to at the and is now the series on

Récupéré en direct depuis OpenAlex et désinversé. Les résumés ne sont pas conservés dans cette base de données : les index inversés représentent 8,6 Go des 9,3 Go de texte de la base, et le serveur dispose de 13 Go libres.

Prédiction distillée sur la base complète

Imitation des enseignants

Ni prévalence calibrée, ni vérité terrain. Validation humaine à venir. Apprise à partir de 10 348 étiquettes directes de Codex et de 10 348 étiquettes directes de Gemma. Le mode candidate est l'union des têtes enseignantes seuillées; le consensus est leur intersection. Ces sorties portent le statut machine_predicted_unvalidated et ne sont ni des étiquettes humaines ni des étiquettes directes de modèles de pointe.

score de la tête « metaresearch » (Codex)0,001
score de la tête « metaresearch » (Gemma)0,000
Version: codex-gemma-dda1882f352aStatut de validation: machine_predicted_unvalidated
Catégories candidatesCharge utile insuffisante (le modèle a refusé de juger)
Catégories consensuellesaucune
DomaineSignal candidat: aucune · Signal consensuel: aucune
Devis d'étudeSignal candidat: Observationnel · Signal consensuel: aucune
GenreSignal candidat: Empirique · Signal consensuel: aucune
Score de désaccord entre enseignants0,514
Score d'incertitude au seuil0,996

Scores Codex et Gemma par catégorie

CatégorieCodexGemma
Métarecherche0,0010,000
Méta-épidémiologie (sens strict)0,0000,000
Méta-épidémiologie (sens large)0,0000,000
Bibliométrie0,0000,001
Études des sciences et des technologies0,0000,000
Communication savante0,0000,000
Science ouverte0,0000,000
Intégrité de la recherche0,0000,000
Charge utile insuffisante (le modèle a refusé de juger)0,0050,000

Scores machine (provisoires)

Les deux têtes enseignantes du modèle étudiant, lues sur ce travail. Un score ordonne la base pour la relecture; il n'affirme jamais une catégorie, et le statut de validation accompagne chaque rangée tel quel.

Scores de référence d'un modèle non mature (critères de maturité non atteints, 7 itérations). Un score ordonne; il n'affirme jamais une catégorie.

Tête enseignante Opus0,020
Tête enseignante GPT0,340
Écart entre enseignants0,321 · la distance entre les deux têtes enseignantes sur ce seul travail
Statut de validationscore_only:v0-immature-baseline · tel quel depuis la passe de notation : score_only signifie que le nombre peut ordonner les travaux, et qu'aucune étiquette de catégorie n'en découle