Poetry day

Just a poem I like today....

Inheritance
by W. S. Merwin
At my elbow on the table

it lies open as it has done

for a good part of these thirty

years ever since my father died

and it passed into my hands

this Webster's New International

Dictionary of the English

Language of 1922

on India paper which I

was always forbidden to touch

for fear I would tear or somehow

damage its delicate pages

heavy in their binding

this color of wet sand

on which thin waves hover

when it was printed he was twenty-six

they had not been married four years

he was a country preacher

in a one-store town and I suppose

a man came to the door one day

peddling this new dictionary

on fine paper like the Bible

at an unrepeatable price

and it seemed it would represent

a distinction just to own it

confirming something about him

that he could not even name

now its cover is worn as though

it had been carried on journeys

across the mountains and deserts

of the earth but it has been here

beside me the whole time

what has frayed it like that

loosening it gnawing at it

all through these years

I know I must have used it

much more than he did but always

with care and indeed affection

turning the pages patiently

in search of meanings


"Inheritance" by W. S. Merwin, from The Shadow of Sirius. © Copper Canyon Press, 2008.

Midnight

When we were kids we played a game called "Midnight." Similar to tag, it took place after dark and was played on nights when my family had hosted a summer barbeque and there was a yard full of unsupervised kids. One person would sit on the back step and count (1 o'clock, 2 o'clock...) while the rest of us would run around the house to hide behind the bushes and trees in the yard. When the seeker reached the count of "midnight" and started out to find us, we would jump out and run, as fast as we could, back to the steps. It was a noisy and exciting game. For the youngest it was the darkness and the element of surprise when someone would jump out that made it just scary enough to be fun. As you got older the excitement centered more on who you might be hiding beside in the dark, or who you might let catch you as you ran. At the end, though, there was the safety of home base where we would arrive screaming and laughing, safe in the light on the steps.

Sort of a metaphor for life, isn't it? A little dark, a little scary. Fun and exciting, filled with laughter and innocence. Aren't we all trying to get to home base, to the light on the back steps?

Aging Faculty

When I was in graduate school in the late 1980s I was advised that it would be a great time to enter academia because the faculty was aging. I didn't believe it. Now, the aging faculty argument is rising again. Here is an excerpt from Harry Moody's aging issues newsletter:

"In a recent survey, among faculty at Stanford University,
it turns out that 53 percent are older than 50, up from a level
of 43 percent in 1993. Those under-45 have fallen from 42 to 33
percent. One cause may be that, since 1994, federal law has
ended mandatory retirement for faculty. Some are worried about
the trend. Former Harvard president Lawrence Summers said that
the aging of faculty 'is one of the profound problems facing the
American research university.'"

Perhaps the trend has finally hit the academic world. The oldest of the baby boom generation is reaching age 65. But will they retire, and at what cost? At my current University we have many faculty in their late 60s and early 70s who still teach. Some do it quite well, others not so well. We put effort into easing them out of the classroom, then out of their offices. For many it is a slow and painful process. They move to part time teaching, they alternate semesters, they plan research and writing projects. Managing the soon to retire and retired can be a time consuming process.

Why is academia different from other occupations in that regard? Most places send you off with your retirement fund and watch and wish you luck. We have retirement galas of all types in academia, but often the nature of the job, and they type of people it attracts, makes it difficult to really move people out the door.

I think about this with respect to my own career. Will I recognize when it is time to stop teaching? Will I be ready to move out the door?

Gestures Improve Thinking?

I gesture a fair amount when I talk. I'd say I'm above average in that category. When I was a high school debater we were trained to use very specific, deliberate gestures in our speeches. Now I am more of the "all over the place" school. I wave, point, shrug, plead and implore with my hands. So, I was very happy to read an essay in the NY Times on Sunday that touched on this topic.

Turns out that some research has shown that gesturing enhances thinking. It could be that bodily motions actually play a role in the thinking process. In some experiments when gesturing was inhibited subjects showed decreased performance on mental tasks. Ah, my gesturing may be useful! I remember in second grade we were working on dividing words into syllables. I was working out "elephant," and waved my hand as I sounded out each syllable. The teacher noticed and pointed out how helpul that might be for other students--to "feel" the syllables.

The article goes on to note that gestures increase when we are actively working out a solution, rather than reciting an already established understanding. Think of how in the classroom you see students working on a tough problem, they are moving, gesturing, standing up. This is especially evident in group work, I think. Sure, some of this is to get attention or the result of nervousness, but some may be an integral part of the thinking process.

I feel greatly relieved to hear that my wild gesticulations may be an indication of deep reasoning!





http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/12/12/out-of-our-brains/

"I Wish" songs

The other day I was listening to an old This American Life broadcast. The title of the podcast was "Promised Land," and while I didn't find the stories all that interesting, the introduction was fascinating to me. This may be something that everyone else already knew, especially those in the drama and theater fields, but it was a new insight for me.

Ira Glass was talking about the Disney movie, Sleeping Beauty, and how each character is introduced with a "wish song." He goes on to note how in most musicals, especially Disney stories, the first song sung by a character is called the "I wish" song. It is the song in which the main character estabishes his or her identity and their main longing or desire. It is the song that sets up the storyline, the quest to fulfill that wish is what drives the story.

"I wish" songs include "Over the Rainbow" in the Wizard of Oz, "Part of Your World" in the Little Mermaid, "Out There" in the Hunchback of Notre Dame...there are more, but you get the idea. Once you start thinking of them, they are everywhere.

Around Christmas wishing is a common theme--children make wish lists, Sears used to call their Christmas catalog the "Wish Book." There are wishes for world peace, toy guns, and baby dolls. There are wishes for prosperity, love, and understanding. I think my students are wishing for good grades, wishing to go home, and wishing for more sleep.

What would be the theme of your "I wish" song?

Puzzles

I love doing puzzles, I've probably written that here before. I know I've extolled the virtues of jigsaw puzzles, but have I mentioned crosswords and sudoku? I am not a very good crossword puzzler. I don't know enough esoterica. I am pretty good at sudoku. I've always found puzzling to be enjoyable and relaxing and have tried to pass that love on to my kids. They are moderately interested. If there is nothing better to do, a puzzle is fine, but they are of the video game generation. Puzzling is too slow I imagine.

Today's NY Times had several articles about puzzling. In one there was this great passage: Marcel Danesi, a professor of anthropology at the University of Toronto says, “It’s all about you, using your own mind, without any method or schema, to restore order from chaos and once you have, you can sit back and say, ‘Hey, the rest of my life may be a disaster, but at least I have a solution.’ ” The article also states "(But) the appeal of puzzles goes far deeper than the dopamine-reward rush of finding a solution. The very idea of doing a crossword or a Sudoku puzzle typically shifts the brain into an open, playful state that is itself a pleasing escape…And that escape is all the more tantalizing for being incomplete. Unlike the cryptic social and professional mazes of real life, puzzles are reassuringly soluble; but like any serious problem, they require more than mere intellect to crack. "

I agree. Solving puzzles is a way to relax, to tap into other dimensions of thinking, and, to get an answer. I love to start the day by solving a puzzle. It gives me a sense of accomplishment right at the start and an optimistic view that will carry me through the day.

Of course, working puzzles during lectures is a whole different story!

Lists

As we get close to the end of the year it is not just Christmas season, but List season as well. The top 10 books of the year, the top 10 movies, the top 10 news stories (funny, we don't seem to have many "bottom" lists, although I heard today that the most boring day in history has been established, some date in 1954 on which nothing important seems to have happened.)

I admit to being a list maker. I make lists for everything--tasks to be completed at work, household chores, groceries, Christmas gifts. I even make lists in my journal--the most important things on my mind that day. I don't know where this propensity comes from. I know my Mom made lists, but I don't think my Dad does. For me, lists are a way to get control of a situation, to get organized, to allow me to focus on the tasks at hand. I don't seem to have passed this ability on to my children, but I have seen lists by my siblings.

what is appealing about a list? I like the orderliness of it. I read an article in the NY Times Book Review last week about lists. Here is a great quote, "That said, there is something reassuring about a list, a precision and formality that makes us think we’ve got a handle on things. Isn’t every list in reality a ceremonial flourish against amnesia and chaos? "

I have a dear friend suffering from dementia. He writes everything down. He has lists everywhere. But they don't help much. The are like a finger in the dam of forgetfulness, the memories and meaning are trickling out, gushing out, and no list will hold the memories of a lifetime.

What will they remember?

I regularly read a blog written by a middle school "home ec" teacher. I don't think it is called "home economics" anymore, but that is how I recall the class. Now, instead of cooking and sewing there is an emphasis on things like money management and career choices. There are a few simple cooking and sewing lessons thrown in, but much of what I remember of the curriculum is gone.
In any event, this woman wrote about a fight that broke out in her classroom, the first in her 23 years of teaching. While she was troubled that she hadn't anticipated the conflict, what she pondered in her essay was "will this be what these boys remember about my class?" She points out that teachers make 1,500 instructional decisions in a day and that some of those will be indelibly written to memory for some students.

We can all probably point to some teacher or particular incident in school that we recall in vivid detail. It may be pleasant or, more likely, unpleasant. As we near the end of the semester I wonder what my students will remember from my class. Will it be content? A particular graph or table of data we discussed? A skill or technique? A time I answered a question for them?

I recall only bits of my college classes, so I have no illusion that I have made an indelible impression on many in my class. But, perhaps, for a few there will be at least a pleasant sense that our time together was useful.
http://blogs.edweek.org/teachers/place_at_the_table/2010/11/fight_fight_fight.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+place_table+%28Teacher+Magazine+Blog%3A+A+Place+at+the+Table%29

Safety

Some months ago, about September I think, I read an essay describing a young boy’s reaction to realizing that he was adopted. Although he had always know that was the case there was an incident when he was 5 or so in which he felt a great loss at not knowing his “real” mother. His mother comforts him and explains it this way:

“And in a sure sign he knows that what he’s hearing is correct, he begins to cry hard. In a little while I feel him exhale long and slow, his back relaxing against my hands that are holding him in place like bookends: Your body begins here, and it ends here. You are safe.”

Perhaps you can imagine that feeling, that you're emotions are contained, that you won't fall apart with the strength of feeling. As parents we are called on often to convey that sense of security, as friends and partners creating safety is the ultimate gift we can give.

I've been thinking about safety lately. We had an incident at school, that while ultimately not serious, had the potential to be dangerous. Contemplating how to handle an explosive situation makes you think a little more seriously about safety and all of its forms.

I don't see myself holding a student as they cry, but I have been known to pass the box of tissues, offer a pat on the arm, or lend a sympathetic ear. How do I make a student feel safe in my class? How important is that when I'm teaching statistics, anyway? Many students feel intimidated by material that they have learned to fear, that is to say, anything involving numbers. They doubt their own abilities, they lack confidence. They need to think that any question will be treated with respect and answered with dignity. They need to feel that I won't laugh at them, shake my head, arch my eyes.

Offering safety is something we can think of doing every day in all of our interactions.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/05/magazine/05Lives-t.html

"Choking"

I read an interesting article on "choking" yesterday. This is the all too familiar feeling of failing just when it matters the most--flubbing a job interview, missing a winning shot, failing an important test. You know the feeling....

Why does it happen? Worry apparently. Worrying makes it harder to access the information needed to perform and impairs the brain networking, creating information logjams. Cool. Try not to worry in a pressure situation....right.

Those who have the most potential to succeed are actually more likely to choke. These people rely more on working memory and prefrontal cortex areas of the brain. Under pressure, this region of the brain doesn't function as well as it should. Students who are less likely to use this region actually are less impacted by pressure. (This doesn't mean they will perform better, just that their performance will be less affected by pressure!)

What to do? Practice under pressure. Focus on the outcome, not the mechanics. Don't dwell on past failures. All three of these strategies can help deal with the stressful situation.

One suggestion I particularly liked was....WRITE....writing about worries and stressful events can help increase working memory and prevent other parts of your life from distracting you under stress. A mere 10 minutes of writing before a big event or regularly for 10 minutes a week boosts brain power!

All of this comes from a book by Sian Beilock, a University of Chicago psychologist and his book, Choke.

Rain and Books

It is a cool rainy Monday in November. The perfect kind of day to curl up with a book. I've always loved reading, and reading under a warm blanket on a cold rainy day is the best kind of reading. But, I'm at work and not warm and not reading...Maybe I need a sick day!

spaces

I've been thinking again about office spaces. I've been in my "new" office for just about a year now, and it looks very lived in. But, in the meantime, I've also moved into another temporary office in the Dean's suite. Someone remarked the other day that it looked too "sterile." There is quite a striking contrast between the two places.

My upstairs office is long and narrow, it reminds me of a shoebox. Along one wall are windows, but the view is not particulary attractive. It actually looks best, I think, at night when you can see the lights of the city below. One of my favorite things is to sit in my office at the end of the day with the lights out and look out. This only really works from about November to February when it is dark at 5 PM, but it is worth the winter to have that feeling of floating above the traffic and noise. Even though the office is large, I've pretty much huddled at one end. I have a desk along the wall with my computer and another desk parallel to that one. I sit between them, walled off from the office. I keep some toys on my desk for students to play with when they come in. Most don't, but a few will pick them up. My favorite is a set of magnets that you can stack up, balance, and arrange. I like to fiddle.

My downstairs office is squarish and has two Stickley cube chairs...and a footstool? Why the footstool I have no idea, it came with the office. The walls are white with some University artwork. I'm not quite sure what makes it seem more formal, but it does have less of an inviting feel. I haven't put too much effort into the place because I'm not sure how long I'll be staying there. That may be part of the reason for the sterility, since it is a temporary space it feels impersonal. If I stay there, I will need to make it more my own.

Writing an exam

I just finished writing an exam for my MAX 201 course. I hate writing tests, hate grading tests, hate giving tests, although I must say I never really hated taking tests. I was fortunate to be a good test taker. I was pretty good at deciphering what the instructor wanted me to know, learning it, and repeating it back in a form and format that pleased them. This ability extended to standardized tests as well.

In the past I could not understand why others were unable to do this. But, over the years, I've seen enough good students struggle that I am more sympathetic. When I write a test I try to find questions that will test if the students understand what we have been talking about. I try to de-emphasize the memorization part of learning and emphasize the understanding part. Usually, if a student understands the material they are able to apply it to a new situation. Coming up with examples that are close to what we have discussed, but not exactly the same is tough. Add on the fact that I will need to read and evaluate 50+ of these tests and efficiency sometimes trumps a truly comprehensive exam.

Student complaints

One of the facts of life of teaching is dealing with student complaints. As an administrator I also get to deal with the student complaints that either the instructor did not satisfactorily address, or with the students who are too afraid to approach their instructor.

In my own classes most complaints are around grading--I was unfair, the question was unclear, the answer ambiguous. Sometimes I am wrong, I misread an answer, I deduct more points than I should have, I missed something on the page. Those are the easy ones. I'm happy when students bring my mistakes to my attention and allow me to make amends. Sometimes I don't believe I am wrong. I am looking for an answer the student did not provide Usually the student is willing to accept my explanation and we can move on. Also, not too unpleasant.

Complaints about attitudes, classroom climate, or other students are harder to deal with. Again, as an instructor, I can usually listen objectively and will try to rectify the situation. More often, though, I hear these complaints not as the instructor, but as an administrator. Here, it is harder for me to intervene. What I have learned over the years, though, is that what students want most is to be heard. They would like things to change, but more importantly, they would like someone to care about their experience. I spend a lot of time with these students listening, offering tissues, and listening some more. After hearing their concerns I will ask what they might like to see happen. Often they don't want anything more than what they just experienced--someone who listened and took their views seriously.

Listening, caring, respecting....that is what most of us want to receive from our friends, partners, and co-workers. It seems only reasonable that our students would want the same.

Rhythm of the Fall Semester

I've been teaching for over 20 years now and have slowly come to recognize the rhythm of the fall semester. Spring has its own feel, but the fall semester seems to follow a very predictable pattern.

The early weeks are full of excitement and energy. Everyone, students and faculty, are happy to be back in the classroom.....really. The material introduced in the first few weeks is often the material we know best, the background, the introduction, the motivation. It is easy to be enthusiastic in class.

After a few weeks we all fall into our routines. We remember what days we are teaching, when we need to set aside time to prepare or grade. We start to attend committee meetings. Things are not so exciting, but we are comfortable with the progress.

But slowly the pressure builds. We move towards midterms. The weather deteriorates. Each fall we seem to hit a wall about the third week of October. Depression sets in. How much longer do I have to do this?? Faculty are tired of their classes, students are tired of the work. Everyone feels overwhelmed and overburdened. We can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

This followed by a few frantic weeks in November. Instead of depression there is a sense of dread. Committees are sensing the end of the semester and want to finish their work. Classes are in the middle of the hardest material. Students now know exactly where they stand in class and are worried. I'm not sure which is worse, the October depression or the November dread.

The pace quickens as Thanksgiving nears. People want to finish the semester before the break, but there is at least the hopeful promise of a four day vacation before the final push. We come back from Thanksgiving refreshed and with the end in sight. Although there is a lot to do, it feels manageable.

The first few weeks of December are spent finishing up. For faculty this is an easier time than for students, I suspect. Although our penance comes the next week while we are grading. But, grading in front of a fire with Christmas music is more tolerable than the May grading when the sun is shining and the promise of summer lies ahead.

Right now we are in the Dread Days of the fall. Everyone is tense and on edge. Thanksgiving looks far away. But it will come, it always does.

Nature

I've just returned from a weekend trip to the Rocky Mountains. The weather was beautiful, 60s and sunny. There was a dusting of snow on the upper peaks, but the lower elevations were snow free. I was amazed at how blue the sky was, especially against the white snow of the mountains. A month ago I went camping with my sisters and nieces. It was another wonderful weekend--warm and sunny, with a touch of rain overnight. There aren't as many mountains in Indiana, but the Shades park has gorges and a small river running through it. Growing up I spent many hours in the Indiana Dunes, walking in the dunes, playing on the beach. I went to camp in the summer, canoeing, camping, and sleeping in a tent.

I've found that I need a fair amount of fresh air to be happy. I try to take a walk every night, even in the winter...maybe especially in the winter. There is something about the feel of air on my face that helps me relax, focus my thoughts, and clear my mind. I've often felt that if I could only walk long enough I could solve all of my problems.

What is it about fresh air that is so relaxing? Could I survive in the city? Would I wither and die?

Unused Memories

I have long been fascinated with memory and concept of memories. If you go back through this blog you will probably find several references to memory, memory studies, the meanings of memories. Recently I received an e-newsletter from Harvard outlining the 7 types of "normal memory problems."

I want to talk about one of them (besides that gives me 6 more reasons to post in the future....)

The first type listed was "transcience" the notion that we forget things over time. The article points out that information used frequently is less likely to be forgotten. I'm sure we can all relate to that. We remember more easily the phone numbers of people we call all the time, for instance. But, it is interesting to think of the things we DO remember, that we hardly ever call up. Why is that? What makes a memory stick?

I was really struck by this line in the story, though, "Although transience might seem like a sign of memory weakness, brain scientists regard it as beneficial because it clears the brain of unused memories, making way for newer, more useful ones." Is an unused memory useless? It seems to imply that only the things we remember every day are useful memories. I'd like to think that some events that I only call up once a decade are still an important part of my life and being. And, if you lose a memory is it completely gone? Maybe its content has become integrated somehow into your very being and so lives on in an indirect way.

I don't know, it makes me want to start using my old memories before they consider themselves useless and are displaced by some new information, like another computer password...

A poem

Okay, I'm already behind on posting something this week, so I'll take a short cut and put up a poem I read recently that I enjoyed....

On Punctuation
by Elizabeth Austen

not for me the dogma of the period

preaching order and a sure conclusion

and no not for me the prissy

formality or tight-lipped fence

of the colon and as for the semi-

colon call it what it is

a period slumming

with the commas

a poser at the bar

feigning liberation with one hand

tightening the leash with the other

oh give me the headlong run-on

fragment dangling its feet

over the edge give me the sly

comma with its come-hither

wave teasing all the characters

on either side give me ellipses

not just a gang of periods

a trail of possibilities

or give me the sweet interrupting dash

the running leaping joining dash all the voices

gleeing out over one another

oh if I must

punctuate

give me the YIPPEE

of the exclamation point

give me give me the curling

cupping curve mounting the period

with voluptuous uncertainty

"On Punctuation" by Elizabeth Austen, from The Girl Who Goes Alone. © Floating Bridge Press, 2010.

Exactly what's needed...

I had a long trip back from LA today and listened to an interesting podcast. I download a show called "Speaking of Faith," hosted be Krista Tippet on NPR. It deals with issues around religion, philosophy, and ethics. This episode was called "Listening Generously, " and was an interview with Rachel Naomi Remen, a physician. I've just copied part of the transcipt here....

"In the beginning there was only the holy darkness, the Ein Sof, the source of life. And then, in the course of history, at a moment in time, this world, the world of a thousand thousand things, emerged from the heart of the holy darkness as a great ray of light. And then, perhaps because this is a Jewish story, there was an accident, and the vessels containing the light of the world, the wholeness of the world, broke. And the wholeness of the world, the light of the world was scattered into a thousand thousand fragments of light, and they fell into all events and all people, where they remain deeply hidden until this very day.

Now, according to my grandfather, the whole human race is a response to this accident. We are here because we are born with the capacity to find the hidden light in all events and all people, to lift it up and make it visible once again and thereby to restore the innate wholeness of the world. It's a very important story for our times. And this task is called tikkun olam in Hebrew. It's the restoration of the world.

And this is, of course, a collective task. It involves all people who have ever been born, all people presently alive, all people yet to be born. We are all healers of the world. And that story opens a sense of possibility. It's not about healing the world by making a huge difference. It's about healing the world that touches you, that's around you.

It's a very old story, comes from the 14th century, and it's a different way of looking at our power…I think that we all feel that we're not enough to make a difference, that we need to be more somehow, either wealthier or more educated or somehow or other different than the people we are. And according to this story, we are exactly what's needed. And to just wonder about that a little, what if we were exactly what's needed? What then? How would I live if I was exactly what's needed to heal the world?"

I think it is a powerful way to think about our lives. Perhaps you are exactly what is needed.

Back in the saddle

I know hardly anyone reads this blog, so my absence was probably not noted by many. However, as a matter of self-discipline I am making a pledge to post something at least 2x a week for the rest of the year.

I've been meaning to write about Steven Pinker, a Harvard psychologist and neuroscientist interested in language. His specialities are verb tenses and swear words. An interesting combination. He spoke at SU recently, and while his talk was somewhat disappointing, the reading I did before his lecture was not. One interesting concept, that I've actually written about here before, is the way in which languages use gender. So, for instance in French or Spanish , if I were to say "I had dinner with my neighbor last night," you would know if that neighbor was male or female. Not so in English. Does that make French and Spanish speakers more aware of gender? Does it change the way we think about gender? In the study I wrote about some time ago the issue was the assignment of gender to inanimate objects, like bridges. Assigning male or female articles to those items changed the way they were perceived.

The other thing Pinker talked about, which I found interesting, was the use of indirect speech, or innuendo. He pointed out how the use of indirect speech maximized payoffs. If the person didn't take the hint, you were no worse off, but if they did, you could gain tremendously. There is basically no risk. So, if you are offering a bribe, do it discreetly.

As a female instructor, let's put these two items together. How to best bribe me for a better grade?

New Students

For many years I have been an academic advisor for first year students. I meet these students for the first time the weekend before classes start. The meeting is short, we go over problems with their schedules, mainly. I try to ask a few personal questions, let them know that I am a caring person, but I don't really know them yet.

They are starting something new, an adventure. Some are a little homesick already, unsure about their choices, their abilities. Some appear so eager to be away from home and their old lives, this is a chance to start over. They have a lot to learn...new people, new places, new demands.

But, with only the rare exception, they are enthusiastic. They are ready. They have moved into their new life and are ready to get on with it. I love seeing them. I love the infectious energy they have. I know that in a few months I will be seeing a few of them in tears. They will feel overwhelmed, under pressure, and unable to cope. They will be tired, frustrated, and scared.
I hope that at that time we can bring back some of the feeling of this opening weekend, some of the enthusiasm and excitement.

A Love Story

I'm a sucker for a good love story and I heard one last night from a sociologist.

Sitting at my dinner table last night was a very well-known sociologist and his wife of about 6 years. They are both somewhere over 70 years in age, I would guess. Seven years ago, she was on her way from Houston, TX to NC to babysit her grandson while her adult child went skiing. She worked in Houston and almost didn't make the trip because there were problems at work she had to address. But, she was on the plane, aisle seat, and half asleep when she heard the man across the aisle say he was a professor at Chapel Hill. She was a UNC grad, so she leaned across and said, "Pardon my eavesdropping, but I heard you say you were a professor at UNC and I'm a UNC grad." They chatted all the way to NC and when they got off the plane he handed her his business card and said, "The next time you are in NC, give me a call and we will have dinner." This was Thursday. She debated about what to do. She was leaving on Sunday and Saturday night, about 10 pm, decided she would call his office number and just leave a message. Lo and behold, he was in his office and answered (or, as she put it, "Now, what kind of foolish guy is working at 10 o'clock on Saturday?") She said she had this whole speech planned out, but was so flustered she didn't know what to say when he actually answered. But, they talked, they visited back and forth, and are now married.

Both of them had lost their first partners to cancer some years earlier and were rebuilding their lives. The man told me that another sociologist friend, who had lost her first husband at a much younger age, had given him two pieces of advice after his first wife passed away. First, don't pass up an opportunity to meet someone new. Go out, be out there, make overtures, be available for all types of relationships. Second, don't expect your second relationship, if you have one, to be like your first. Don't look for the same kind of person or expect that you will be attracted to the same kind of person.

This couple radiated love at the table. It was so clear that they enjoyed each others company and companionship. Moral: never give up on love.

Summer camp

I was a big fan of summer camp as a child. I've tried to convince my own sons to go to camp, but they have no interest. Maybe I wanted to get away from home, but I think mostly I enjoyed the activities. Summer can be long and slow, especially in the days before 24 hour cartoons, Internet, and not being old enough for a summer job. I attended Girl Scout camp, church camp, YMCA camp. I did the living in cabins, eating in a dining hall, camping; wilderness camping; canoe camping; and living in platform tents and cooking most of our own food camping. I liked them all. I didn't get homesick, I cried when camp was over.

This American Life recently aired a set of stories about summer camps. The stories focused more on the longer camps, where kids would go for 4-6 weeks. My longest single camp stay was 2 weeks. What I found interesting about the segment was the discussion of camp rituals and routines. The argument was made that these rituals are essential to a camp's survival since they develop a sense of loyalty and belonging. Older campers have certain rights that are not allowed younger campers, so younger campers have something to look forward to if they return. There are stories, legends, and songs that become part of the camp lore. These are passed down from year to year, from camper to camper. New campers are "initiated" into the camp ritual.

There was an interesting comparison to religion--the levels of seniority, the rituals, the secret knowledge. As a sociologist I think it would be fun to look at summer camps as social institutions and explore how they operate as agents of socialization. Dissertation anyone?

End of summer

I've taken a bit of a summer hiatus, shutting down for most of July. Now, it is August and the new school year is just around the corner. I've been busy revising my syllabus for MAX 201. This course is designed to introduce students to basic data analysis and interpretation. We focus on learning how to use Excel and SPSS (a statistical program now called PASW). Students make tables, graphs, and do some basic statistical tests. It is a very "hands on" class, which is good. Every year, there are slight changes to the data, the programs, or the computing environment which requires retooling assignments and lectures. I'm switching up some readings, adding some short exams, and creating one new assignment. It sounded like an easy, straightforward task when I began, but it has become a real time-eater. Hopefully, the end result will be a better course.

Apologies

I ran across an interesting story about apologies in the NY Times today. How often do we admit that we are sorry for something? The article noted that a "good" apology contains 3 elements: expression of regret, an assumption of full responsibility, and a plan for preventing similar mistakes in the future. I wonder which of those is hardest for us to say. I'm guessing it is the full responsibility part. It is easy to be sympathetic to the pain or misfortune of another, to be sorry to have caused the hurt. It is easy to think about how the situation might be prevented in the future. But, to accept full responsibility, that is a little tougher. I think our natural instinct is towards "partial responsibility." We are at fault, but there are usually some mitigating circumstances. These can be external (poor directions, poor design) or internal (tiredness, misunderstanding). One of the hardest is "my intentions were good." If I mean well, but do bad, then I should get some credit for my intentions.

I often run into apologies with students. Their apologies often fall into the "I meant well" category. For a variety of reasons, they are unable to carry out their good intentions. I'm going to try giving full apologies in class from now on and see if students follow suit.

Memory

I'm sure I've written about memory before, I think about it a lot! Maybe that is a reflection of my work in aging, memory is often the subject of research. Maybe it is a reflection of my experiences with individuals with Alzheimer's. Maybe it is a reflection of my own consideration of my memories.

I was listening to a program about memory and spirituality the other day on the NPR program Speaking of Faith (another one of my regular podcast downloads. I don't think of myself as a religious person, but someone who is interested in spirituality and the way in which we make sense of the world.) So, this program was asking "Is memory essential for a person's identity?" The interviews focused on using writing groups for people with early onset AD. (See my last entry for a tie-in!) Part of the discussion focused on the preservation of memory. Participants saw this as an opportunity to give their memories away, to pass them on to someone else for safekeeping. It is an interesting way to think about memory, that memories can be thought of as not having meaning if they are not shared and that they can live on after you through other people.

The other interesting ideas were that memory is a creative process. Recalling a memory means that different parts of the brain have to be activated. We remember words, sights, smells. In the recollection all of these are reconstituted to make "the memory." That is partly why we aren't very good reporters of events. Each reconstruction changes the memory slightly. The other interesting idea was that writing activates different parts of the brain, so that memories that are written are different from memories that are relayed verbally.

Stories

I just returned from the annual Brookdale Foundation Leadership in Aging retreat. It is always a fascinating 24 hours filled with new information and new ideas. A theme the last few years has been the idea of storytelling. There are a couple of different researchers working on storytelling with older adults in one way or another. So, here are some random thoughts about stories and personal narratives....



One presentation was about the use of the Odyssey to elicit stories from nursing home residents. The narrative focuses on Penelope, particularly her waiting. She waited 20 years for Odyseus to return, and then wasn't sure she recognized him when he did. Are there parallels to older adults--do we recognize them when they look different? are they the same person when they have lost their physical or mental abilities? are they in nursing homes waiting? for what, waiting to die? We talked about the difficulty we have in waiting in our culture now. There is a need for immediacy and quick response. I know that I can get impatient with someone who is slow to respond or react. On the other hand, I don't get too impatient waiting in a line or waiting for an event. What's the difference? I guess in one case I feel there is a lack of effort and in the other the waiting is beyond almost anyone's control.



Second idea: journey stories. If we think about the Odyssey and the journeys that Odyseus and Penelope make, Odyseus travels out into the world, he is on a quest. Men in journey stories overcome physical obstacles and leave home. In contrast, Penelope's journey is internal. She never leaves Ithaca. Her struggles are at home and within herself. I thought it was an interesting contrast of gender roles.



Third idea: self-stories. In a writing group older adults are asked to write stories that illustrate key memories in their lives. What was interesting was that these stories were most often stories of everyday events, not notable celebrations or life transitions. People would write about a picnic or vacation, rather than about their wedding or graduation. People focused on everyday experiences. I've thought about this before in my own memories. I barely remember attending my high school graduation, for instance. But, I have vivid memories of hiking with my dad and his habit of bringing along some fruit or candy to be doled out halfway through the trip. It makes me feel better when I think about my sons and their memories.



So, those are just some random ideas about stories, narratives, and the power of memory.

Being present

One habit I have is that I save phrases. What I mean is that when I read I often run across a string of words that I find particularly descriptive or engaging. I write them down. When I was a teenager I had an old stenographer's notebook in which I kept these tidbits. I have lines from books, songs, and poems. I still have that notebook, and looking back through it is like a walk through adolescence. A pretty rocky walk at times!

Now, I tend to keep my snippets on the computer. I wish I was better organized about it, but I'm not. Some are in emails, some on this blog, some are just in random word documents. Over time I have gotten less careful about attribution, even at a time when I've become more aware of the need for correct citation.

That's how I find myself running across a line I had written down recently and not remembering where it came from! I'm thinking it was a NYTimes story, but I could be wrong. I'm pretty sure it was written by someone in the medical field, perhaps even psychiatry. The individual was working, I think, in an Alzheimer's unit providing some type of care. With that big build up I'm sure you are all curious what the line was...so here it is:

"attentive at every level of human presence — not just by way of words, but through eye contact, compassionate silence, touch. "

What struck me about the line is the description of what it means to be present with someone. That it is not just about words, about what you say, but just as much about what you do when you are with someone. How do you show attention? How do you show that you are present?

I volunteer in a first grade class and there are a few ways students are asked to show their attention. One is the clapping routine. The teacher claps a pattern and students mimic it back. The idea, I suppose, is that the students have to attend to the task and focus on the teacher. Another is that students are asked to "show that they are ready" to move from one task to another. They do this by stacking their papers and workboxes in front of them and putting their heads down on the desk. Another way they are asked to show "attention."

So, as a teacher, how can I show the same "attention" to students? Do I focus on them when they are asking questions? Do I make eye contact? Do I give them time and space to think and respond to questions through a compassionate silence? How do I show them that I am ready?

Demography

I am deep in demography these days. I attended our annual professional meeting a few weeks ago, a small conference last week, and will be off to a larger conference in two weeks. I like hanging out with demographers. We are reasonable people who are mainly nice to each other. I don't know if I was drawn to demography because I think like a demographer or if I was trained to think like a demographer. I suppose a little of both.

Demographers study three main things: mortality, fertility, and migration. I fall into the mortality area. I always liked it because it was so much cleaner than fertility--you don't have to worry about intentions, desires, plans. Most people try to avoid death as long as possible and most only die once. Easy to count that way.

But, I was thinking about fertility the other day and one of my favorite demographic phrases. A well-known demographer Ansley Coale studied the decline of fertility in populations. He suggested that in order for fertility to be controlled three things had to occur. First, fertility control had to be in the "calculus of conscious choice." Second, that women had to see some benefit to fertility control. And, third, that they had to have a means to control fertility.

It is the phrase "calculus of conscious choice" that has stuck with me all these 25 some years. Before we can make any change we have to recognize it as possible, it has to be within our set of options, within our conscious mind. How many times are we blind to the options available because they don't exist for us? We simply do not see them. I think it happens a lot. Women could not imagine that fertility was even something that was possible to control. Babies just happened, how could that be within their control? In the same way we might think that some type of change is not even something we can control, not something we can exert any influence over.

But, just like fertility change, other changes can happen, too. Think about what you might be able to move into your calculus of conscious choice.

Dreams and Sleep

A month or so ago there was an interesting article about dreams in a NYTimes blog by Jonah Lehrer.
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/19/why-we-need-to-dream/

He discussed the purpose of dreams--possibly a combination of sorting through new experiences to decide which to remember and an attempt to search for new associations. In this way the dreams are essential for creative thought.

He discussed an interesting experiment by Jan Born published in Nature in 2004. The study involved subjects doing a tedious numerical task. However, there was a shortcut to the task if the subjects could see subtle links between number sets. Less than 25% of the subjects found the shortcut. However, if people slept between trials 59% were able to see the shortcut.

I think that is an amazing finding. Haven't most of us had the experience of waking up suddenly with the solution to a problem we have been puzzling over? I always talk to students about the importance of sleep. In most cases, I believe students would benefit more from extra sleep than extra studying. As we move into finals periods, I would encourage all of you to get some sleep. Let your brain work.

Help!

Inspired by my son's admission that he doesn't "take help when he should" I'm writing two posts in one day. This one is about students asking for help--or not. In a recent Chronicle of Higher Education discussion of online courses I found this quote:

"I always clearly state in my syllabus that I will grant extensions if requested in advance of a due date, yet many students choose instead to forfeit points and turn in assignments late, so averse are they to direct contact with an instructor. In fact, I suspect some students take courses online instead of face to face precisely so that they can remain below the radar. "
http://chronicle.com/article/Designing-Effective-Online/64772/

I know exactly what he is talking about. I was such a student and I have encountered many such students. Professors present an intimidating image to many students. Many, but not all, are scared to death of us. I have students who will come begging for extensions because they need to get their nails done and others who won't say a word when they miss an assignment because their mother died. I know that I was very reluctant to go to a professor with a question, let alone a request for an extension. Recognizing that, I try to make it very easy for students to approach me. I try to create an atmosphere where we all recognize that this class, while important, is only one aspect of a student's life (or mine!) In a semester I can't overcome the tendencies of a very shy or reluctant student, but using things like email helps. Students don't have to actually talk to me, they can communicate by writing--avoiding the dreaded "direct contact."

Some instructors cultivate an atmosphere of fear and intimidation in their college classes. They thrive on being seen as the expert, the authority, on having control of the destiny of their students. I am not that kind of instructor. So, if you are in my class, ask me for help--and sooner rather than later. At some point, even I can't help you get out of the hole.

Who are you?

Yesterday I ran across some school work that one of my son's had done in 4th grade. The students had put together a portfolio of their best work of the year, and included a little introduction describing themselves. There were some very insightful things my son noted about himself and his personality. But what really struck me was the equal weight given to all of his observations. They weren't listed in this order, but in the short essay these were the items he felt important enough to include:

I have brown hair.
I am flexible.
I am smart.
I like steak.
I don't do many sports.
I don't like writing.
I am solitary.
I have hazel eyes.
I have a cat.
I like science.
I don't take help when I should.
I have a fish.
I have a brother.

As adults, do we look at ourselves in the same way? Is our hair color as notable as our intelligence? Is our favorite food as important as our family structure? I was impressed with the matter of fact way he noted some of his weaknesses, and the matter of fact way he noted some of his strengths. They are equally descriptive, but no more important than his hair color or favorite food. I wonder when we start to give greater weight to different aspects of our personality and self image. Is there a developmental stage in which we start to differentiate our self description?

Reading, rituals, and goals

I was struck by a recent story of a unique father-daughter bond. Starting when she was in 4th grade, this single dad read to his daughter for 10 minutes every night until she started college. Wow! They never missed a night. Sometimes this meant that the dad had to drive to play practice to read during rehearsals, sometimes daughter had to come home in the middle of a date to be read to, sometimes Dad had to come home in the middle of a date to read, sometimes the reading took place over the phone.

As a parent, many of my fondest memories are of reading to my children. Starting as infants with board books and lift the flap books, moving to the Boxcar children and Will Hobbs stories, and onto the Harry Potter series. We read Harry Potter traveling through France and Arizona. I love to read out loud, to convey the story's message with my voice. I like sharing the excitement and thrill of stories.

As a sociologist, I tend to think about the rituals we incorporate into our lives and their meanings. This is a very individual ritual, it involved only these two individuals and was uniquely their own. What meaning did it hold for them? It began as a way for the father and daughter to maintain contact as the family structure changed. It reinforces the understanding that children desire some consistency and structure in their lives.

As an adult, I think this also tells us something about goals and rules. Children want to know what to expect and what is expected from them. As I go through staff performance reviews I think about those same needs in adults. We tend to perform better if we know the rules and expectations, but also if we have some goals, something to work towards.

Having rituals in life provides order, but they can also provide excitement and fulfillment. I'm thinking I would like to institute more rituals into my life.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/21/fashion/21GenB.html

A Father-Daughter Bond, Page by Page

Talk Deeply

Read an interesting article in the NY Times today, "Talk Deeply, Be Happy?"

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/17/talk-deeply-be-happy/

It describes an interesting psychology experiment in which the daily conversations of individuals were recorded and analyzed. The researchers coded conversations as being substantive (politics, opinions, feelings), small talk (weather, food, TV), or practical (chores or assignments). They concluded that people who engaged more often in substantive conversations were happier than those who had fewer substantive conversations.

Quiz for methods students: does this show causality? why or why not?

The researchers recognize quite rightly that their study did not establish causality. As the comments following the article note, it could be that people who are happier are more likely to engage in substantive conversations. Or, that people are more likely to engage in those conversations with friends and happier people might have more friends, or those with more friends may be happier.

Second methodological question, How do you convince subjects to have microphones attached to their bodies all day recording all their conversations and who codes all those conversations???

Well, the second part is easy, graduate students code those conversations. The first part is probably a reflection of the moeny offered to subjects willing to have this "invasion" of their privacy. We would want to know how the wearing of microphones might affect behavior, too.

Third, sociological question. The field of sociology is based on the idea that humans are social animals who need and want connection to others. What constitutes connection?

Can you have a connection to someone without having a substantive conversation? Is my small talk with the janitor each day when he comes in to empty my trash a connection? We can certainly think of examples in our own lives in which small talk lead to substance. In general, that is true of any relationship. Rarely do we start with the "BIG QUESTIONS." Even doctors tend to make some small talk first before getting down to business. Most relationships are built on a slowly evolving base of trust, starting with small talk and leading up to the bigger issues.

It will be interesting to hear about the follow-up study, whether encouraging people to engage in more substantive conversations over the course of the day increases their feelings of happiness. You could try it yourself right now!

Childhood

A few days ago I was thinking about aging and the end of life, today a quote from an essay by Erik Kolbell in today's NYTimes got me thinking about childhood. Here is the quote....


"Most children exercise very little power over the decisions that affect their lives. They don’t decide who their parents are, where their family will live, where they will attend school, when they will reach puberty, who will or will not befriend them. They have limited control over their athletic skills, their looks, their wit, or whether, in the great Serengeti that is their schoolyard, they will be predator or prey. They are as much the subject of their story as its author. "


I wanted to put it next to a quote I've been saving for awhile from a middle school teacher, Susan Graham, from her blog, "A Place at the Table." She wrote, describing middle school,

"It is a wonderful/awful time of transition that is both thrilling and bittersweet. As the innocence of childhood slips away, you can't blame young adolescents for longing for one more year of magic. They may hide behind their blasé masks of indifference, but they still want to be surprised. They still want to believe."

Do we think of childhood as a time of innocence, or as a time fraught with danger and unpredictability? Is a having a lack of control part of what makes childhood magical? I wonder if not having those decisions and responsibilities in childhood allows for the innocence and the magic. We certainly sometimes talk about children who had to "grow up too soon." On the other hand, childhood can be a cruel place in big and little ways. For some children the inability to control their surroundings, or their fate, can be frightening and damaging. For others, perhaps, freeing.

Perhaps at the end of life the same factors come into play. We may lose some of our control over where we live and how we live. We could allow that to let the magic back in, giving up those responsibilities may free us to be surprised. To believe.

Aging

I read an interesting commentary the other day about aging. The author's argument was that we can't really understand old age if we aren't old. That isn't exactly what he said, but that is my impression. Brown argues that as we age we look at age differently. I certainly understand that idea. When I was a kid at summer camp I thought the camp counselors, college students, were so old, wise, and responsible. When I became a camp counselor myself I couldn't believe that people were trusting us to care for their kids all week!

Now in my 50s I feel that this isn't a very old age at all. I have a lot of life ahead of me. Brown, in his article, points out that people in their 80s and 90s feel much the same way. They aren't thinking about the end of life on a daily basis, they are just living. In sociology and gerontology we talk about the importance of socialization and learning age appropriate roles from the generations ahead of us. We learn how to be parents partly by observing our parents--their triumphs and mistakes. Similarly, we learn how to be "old" by watching those who are older than us. If we are lucky (in my opinion) we have role models of engaged, active, happy people who can serve as models.

Still, we often bring our preconceived notions to our interactions with older people. Brown talks about meeting an older woman who has just lost her husband. Assuming that she must be grief stricken, he makes a sympathetic comment. He is surprised when she replies that she is in "Heaven," she has a freedom and lightness that she lacked when he was alive. I'm impressed with her ability to be so honest. How many spouses might feel that mixture of release and grief at the death of their partner? Is Brown's assumption one about age or about marriage? I can remember my husband's grandmother's sense of freedom when her husband passed away. She felt she could travel, something he never wanted to do. She had not been limited so much by her age as by her situation.

Here's the link....
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/02/health/02case.html

Skiing

I learned to ski when I was about 10 I guess. My dad was a skier and as each of us reached a certain age (probably the age at which the hand me down boots fit) he would take us out for a trial run. He took me one evening to The Pines, a local ski area in Northern Indiana. I was not a big fan by the end of the lesson. I was cold, the rope tow was painful, and I fell down a lot. Later that year, or perhaps the next, we built a small snow mound in our backyard. I'm not sure why, maybe for sledding. It was maybe 3-4 feet high and we cut some steps into the back. I decided to learn how to ski on that mound. I went out one day and side stepped up the back, turned around and slid down, over and over again. Maybe I was older, maybe I was stronger, maybe it was the lack of a rope tow, but I started to feel more comfortable on skis. Next time we went to The Pines, I was hooked.

Over the years I skied only sporadically. We went to the Pines only a few times a year, if that. Instead we would venture to Lower Michigan for a day trip to one of the ski areas, usually Swiss Valley. My dad, oldest sister and younger brother were the usual crowd. I became more and more adept. Once a year we would take a weekend trip further up in Michigan, or a few times, to the UP. I was never an expert skier at that age, just good enough to manage most of the hills in the Midwest.

When I got married I stopped skiing. My husband tried it once, but that was enough for him. We lived in areas where convenient skiing did not exist. So, I went about 20 years without putting skis on. I started once again when my sons showed some interest. We live near a small ski area, sort of like The Pines I grew up with. Over the last several years I've gradually regained my confidence as a skier, although I haven't ventured off the small hills of Central NY.

I find skiing to be so relaxing. There is a natural rhythm and mindlessness that accompanies a trip down the hill. You are focused only on the area right ahead of you, on your body, and on the sound of snowboarders creeping up behind you. On a quiet day, when the slopes are pretty empty, you can just let your mind go blank. I've worried a few times that I would fall asleep on the chairlift ride back to the top. The gentle swaying of the chair, the fresh air, the warmth of a parka all make for a drowsy skier. I like riding up alone, and on quiet days that is easy to do. Once at the top, I favor the wide cross-hill turns and slow descent. I'm in no hurry. I savor the feel of the wind on my cheeks and the rhythmic turn and turn as I make my way down. If I could spend my whole life skiing, I'm convinced, I could solve all of my problems.

Touch

I read an interesting article in the New York Times yesterday about the power of touch. I would have thought that this topic would have been well researched, but apparently not. One of the experiments cited noted that children who were touched by their teacher were more likely to volunteer an answer in class than students who were not touched. What power we have!

How do we decide who to touch, when to touch, and how to touch? In my interactions with students I rarely touch, but I do sometimes feel an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch a student. Usually it is an attempt to comfort or reassure them. In times of distress it seems we need physical connection more. Of course, as a teacher you must think about the boundaries between you and the students. Touches can be misinterpreted or unwanted. Is it better to err on the side of not touching? Probably.

I am certainly not what would be considered a big toucher. I don't greet friends, or family, with hugs. I'm not the cheek kissing type, either. I might on occasion hug a student, one with whom I have worked closely, perhaps at graduation or the completion of a major goal. So, if you are in my classes, don't worry, I won't be stalking you for a hug. But, if you feel you need one, just ask.

Numbers

I was listening to an old broadcast of Radio Lab last night on my walk. It was a crisp, starry winter night. Perfect for walking. The broadcast was about "numbers" and started with an interesting discussion of how our number sense develops. I may be a little fuzzy on the details, but three basic experiments were described.

First, there was a study with 2-3 month old babies. They hook them up to some brain electrodes and plop them in front of a computer screen. The kids see a screen with some object, say 8 ducks. The screen flashes again, same image. The researchers note that at first there is a lot of brain activity, "cool, ducks on a screen" but, gradually the activity slows as the image repeats. Then a screen with 8 trucks appears, prompting a brain wave response in the temporal lobe..."cool, something new to look at!" The babies recognize that something has changed. If they repeat the experiment, but this time switch not the object, but the number, for instance go from 8 ducks to 16 ducks, the babies show an increase of brain activity, but this time in a different place (parietal lobe, perhaps?). Babies recognize a different kind of difference now.

Second experiment. Find a 2 year old. Give her a bunch of pennies. Sit down and say, "can you give me 1 penny?" The kid will pick up one penny and hand it over. Ask, "can you give me 2 pennies?" and the kid will just pick up a bunch of pennies and hand them over. They know that 2 is more than 1, but have no clue how much more. The idea of 2 doesn't develop until about 1/2 way through the year. Then the idea of 3 takes a little longer, then 4. I think they said it wasn't until 3.5 years old that kids can count out objects. They can count before then, that is, recite the numbers in order, but they have no meaning. Making that connection is a big leap.

In that discussion the idea was introduced that our "natural" way of thinking about numbers was closer to a logarithmic understanding than a scalar (?) way of thinking. Leading to the 3rd experiment. In this case an aboriginal group was found that had very little concept of numbers. They might count up to 4 or 5, but after that numbers had no real meaning. If given a number line with 1 on one end and 9 on the other, and asked to say what number comes in the middle, they are apt to choose not 5 (the Western answer) but 3! Since 3 is 3x 1 and 9 is 3x 3 then, 3 is in the middle...they are thinking in logarithms!

Attention

There was an interesting article in the Chronicle of Higher Education last week http://chronicle.com/article/Scholars-Turn-Their-Attention/63746/

The focus was on attention spans, multitasking, and teaching. There were many interesting ideas, but two really caught MY attention. The first was the discussion of the studies showing that for the most part we can remember 7 units of information. I had heard and read this before, although I had never seen the source of that fact. It got me to thinking about teaching and how to present information in a way that will be remembered. We can remember 7 digit phone numbers, but we can remembe longer strings of information if we "chunk" the information--break the information into pieces that we recall as a whole. If we remember 7 chunks of 7 digits we can remember a string of 49 digits!! I wonder if I should organize my lectures and notes into chunks better, into pieces of information that will be more easily remembered.

The other point was about student multitasking. Should an instructor ban phones, laptops, newspapers, etc? Or tolerate them? Some of my colleagues have very strict rules about reading newspapers, etc, in class. I tend not to care, as long as the person isn't making noise or distracting those around her. If students don't need the information I'm presenting, that is a decision they make, not me.

Winter sports

I've always been a big fan of winter. I like the sight and sound of snow. I love to see the trees with white frosting. I like the way a winter night can be so still. I love walking in the snow.

Last week I packed in the winter sports--skiing, snowshoeing, and sledding. I started to downhill ski as a kid, took a long break when I got married, and started again just long enough to tear up my knee. This winter I feel like I'm skiing better than ever in my life. I think the combination of finally experiencing complete recovery from knee surgery and my hours in boot camp squatting and lunging have made my legs stronger than they have ever been. I am not as afraid of falling, feeling more confident. I have discovered the joys of weekday skiing when the crowds are thin. I'm sold on that!

I went snowshoeing for the first time last week. I could take it or leave it. We rented shoes at the nature center and walked for about an hour along a marked and packed path. It was a beautiful day, great to be outside and all, but I don't quite get the whole snowshoeing part. I could have just walked in my boots. I guess I will need to find a place to get off the beaten trail to really appreciate the experience.

Sledding. Well, my boys are extreme sledders. They create these runs in our backyard that are almost like luge runs--dug out channels down the hill. The crowning feature, however, is the jump at the end. The build a launch that is nearly 90 degrees with a landing 10 feet away. They use foam sleds that you lay on face down. I love to sled and toboggan, spent many happy hours as a youth doing that. I wanted to try the run. My son said, "No, Mom. You shouldn't do this." Of course, the challenge was on, the gauntlet laid down. I had to do it now. I figured I could bail out before the jump. "No, Mom. You can't bail out. You'll go too slow and miss the landing." I had no fear, well, maybe a little fear, but I was not going to let my 52+ years stop me. I launched myself down. I went off the jump. I crashed. I hit the side of the landing, full force on my left side. "I told you so" was all I heard.

Not in the classroom

The spring 2010 semester started yesterday. But, this semester I'm not teaching. It feels a little odd to be out of sync with the campus. I don't know when spring break is, when the students arrive or depart. I still have my advisees, so I'm not totally out of touch.

So, what does a professor do when they aren't teaching? I have plenty to keep me busy. Today I finished the 4th book chapter I've written this year. ENOUGH!! This one was the easiest, demography of obesity, something I know a few things about. I did learn writing the others, but they took too much time. Now I have a paper to write on obesity and caregiving for the Utah family obesity conference, a paper to write on disability recovery for the PAA meetings, and an abstract to write for the REVES conference in Cuba. Hopefully all of those will become actual publications. I really want to work on a new proposal on old age mortality. That is just my own research agenda. I also have some "director" work to do--arrange for a speaker for the fall health policy Lourie lecture; set up next year's speaker series; work up a publication to take to foundations; figure out how to raise the visibility of our group, in general. I'm sure some other items will pop up before long. I've recruited a few undergrads to work as research assistants for me this semester, I need to get organized and find something for them to do.

Sehnsucht

I learned a new word last week--sehnsucht. It is a German word that has no direct translation into English. I ran it across it as I was reading fellowship applications. One of the applicants was proposing to study why older people are more susceptible to fraud. Her theory was that older people have a greater positivity bias, they are more likely to see something as having a positive outcome, so they are more likely to fall for the pitch of a con artist. But, in looking over her qualifications, I saw that she had many articles on "sehnsucht." Curious, I had to google it (of course). According to Wikipedia (for what that is worth) sehnsucht describes a deep emotional state only literally translated as longing, or perhaps a kind of intensely missing. The word can sometimes, apparently, be used to describe a desire for some not quite identifiable, but yet still familiar place. Perhaps like "home." The word is similar in that sense to nostalgia, or even homesickness.

I'm thinking I like this word. It seems to fit an emotion that I sometimes have, a longing or desire for a particular state of being or feeling, for a return to a scene or sense from my past. I wonder how old you have to be to experience sehnsucht? I sometimes hear my sons talk wistfully of some past experience or event. Are those the feelings that build to sehnsucht? Again, according to Wikipedia, sehnsucht was used by C.S. Lewis to describe a joy, almost a sense of hope and yearning which is sweeter than the fulfillment.

Santa

I know that Christmas season has passed, but I overheard a conversation in the lunchroom today that surprised me. Two faculty members were discussing their holidays and where they spent Christmas Day. Like my family, one of these guys spent Christmas Eve night away from home so they had opened presents ahead of time. He joked about needing to let Santa know when they would be home so that the presents could arrive. The other guy said, "Yeah, my 10 year old still says she believes in Santa, but I'm not sure if she really does." I think I could guess. Do any middle class 10 year old kids believe in Santa? How could that be possible?

We never made a big deal of the Santa story in our house. I don't know if my sons ever believed in Santa. We weren't as bad as the mom in Miracle on 34th Street, we didn't completely eschew any fairy tale or make believe stories. But, it was pretty hard to explain Santa's journey.

I've heard friends tell of the devastation they felt the year they discovered that Santa was not real. I had no desire to perpetuate that kind of build / up-let down cycle in my kids. Santa was a nice story, and maybe there was some magic to the season, but the logic was just too strong against him.

But, I ran across a quote from a middle school teacher's blog a few days ago. It really caught my attention regarding the transition from childhood to young adulthood.

"Middle school: It is a wonderful/awful time of transition that is both thrilling and bittersweet. As the innocence of childhood slips away, you can't blame young adolescents for longing for one more year of magic. They may hide behind their blasé masks of indifference, but they still want to be surprised. They still want to believe. "

So, even though Santa may not be real, I agree we could all use a little belief in magic in our lives, a little hope for surprise.

Winter coats

Sometime around age 13 kids start to resist the normal "winter wear" that adults embrace and children are compelled to wear. Something must happen to their metabolism, or, more likely, their sense of peer influence. Wearing coats is no longer "cool." Wearing hats, gloves or boots is definitely not cool. Kids will stand at the bus stop in sweatshirts and sneakers, hands shoved deep into pockets, backs to the wind with red cheeks and frozen toes. Across campus young men and women huddle inside thin jackets and slosh through the snow puddles in open shoes. A few will buck the fashion trend and envelope themselves in down jackets, ear flap hats, and fuzzy mittens. Boys may agree to a pair of workboots, and maybe a hat. But a coat? No. Mittens or gloves. Absolutely not.

Ugg boots are popular footwear for the ladies on campus. I can walk across campus and see pair after pair. Where does such a trend start? No matter, it soon spreads across the campus like wildfire. I'm sure by now they are way out of style, and I'll be anxious to see what new trend awaits me when the students arrive.