Comparisons

In my new administrative role, I'm often asked to compile data to be used in comparisons: comparisons among departments in my school, across schools and colleges in my institution, or even across institutions. The data requested is often very similar; "What is the stipend amount for graduate students?" "What is the teaching load for faculty?" They seem easy enough to answer. For the 2010-22 academic year students supported as graduate assistants will get $16,000. In my school, the teaching load is 2/2, 2 courses each semester.

But how useful is that information? Some students receive support for the summer, some don't. Some on assistantships are teaching a class, others are grading papers. Some students find other ways to supplement their stipend, taking under the table jobs, some have the financial support of a partner or parent.

Some professors teach large introductory courses, others teach small graduate seminars. Some teach "service" courses outside of their research interests, some teach only things closely related to their areas of interest. Some teach 3 days a week, some only 1.

As a diehard empiricist, I want to believe that most of what we want to know can be determined, that there are answers to these questions, values attached to them. With data we can sort and rank and determine what is "best." I'm not ready to give up on empirical data yet, but as I fill out another form asking me to provide data on "the number of graduate courses per semester" I do have my doubts about the success of my efforts.

Alphabetizing

I alphabetize. My teaching assistants do not. I must be "old school," because I don't understand how you can grade 45 papers and record the grades (in an alphabetical file) without alphabetizing. I mean I understand how it can be done...it just doesn't make sense to me. I want all the papers in order before I record grades. Then I can go right down the class list as I enter grades.

I have a few simple strategies for alphabetizing. Usually I first sort the papers into 2 or 3 piles (A-M and N-Z for instance), depending on the class size, and then sort within the piles. For smaller classes I just continually sort and resort the pile in my hands, moving papers forward or backward according to the last name. I always have a few puzzles--the students with hyphenated names or double names. So, is Meyer-Himes filed under M or H? What about Meyer Himes as a last name? My computer generated classlist sometimes does things differently than I would.

I do have a little trouble with the end of the alphabet. I can't tell you, without getting a running start, whether V comes before or after W. I don't know why, but I also get X and Y confused. Seems to me that X should come after Y. I mean, both X and Z are so infrequently used, why not just stick them at the end together. I was discussing this problem with my son's 16 year old friend. He confessed to having troubles with the PQRST sequence. For some reason, we seem to do better up to M then things fall apart. Although another hard area could be the JKL region.

I remember spending a lot of time learning about alphabetical order in elementary school. We regularly did exercises putting words in order. I don't know if it was merely a way for the teacher to keep us busy, or if there was some real reason to learn that. After all, most of us were not going to be file clerks in the future. I suppose an argument could be made for dictionary usage.

Overall, I guess my desire for alphabetical piles of papers is one more example of my desire for order. I wish that desire for order would spill over into my thoughts about housekeeping.

Memory training and mistakes

Sunday's NYTimes magazine features a story this week about memory training. This is not the kind of memory training that we usually hear about--how to remember names or how to work our brains to slow cognitive decline. This was "extreme" memory training, the kind used for competitive memory contests. Turns out that the techniques for this kind of extreme memorization are virtually unchanged since 86 BC. Our brains do better at spatial/visual memory than other types of memory. The big trick of memory champions is to place objects you want to memorize into a spatial pattern--usually a house. Each room contains something to remember, an object or set of objects. We remember them as we walk through the house.

Interestingly, I just read a novel, "Madonnas of Leningrad," in which this technique played a major role. A docent at the Leningrad art museum remembered paintings this way after they were stored for the war. In her old age she would walk through the museum in her memory and remember every painting.

The most interesting part, however, was about how to overcome a memory plateau. This research was based on speed typists. They went through a learning phase and then the process became automatic. They increased their speed until they reached a plateau, fast and accurate typing. How to get faster? Research showed that in order to get faster the typists had to force themselves to type faster, even if they made errors. They would identify when and where they made mistakes, and then practice those sequences. With this technique, their speed improved.

The point was that they had to push past their comfort zone, the speed at which they felt comfortable before they could get better. To quote, "To improve, we have to be constantly pushing ourselves beyond where we think our limits lie and then pay attention to how and why we fail...Psychologists have discovered that the most efficient method is to force yourself to type 10 to 20 percent faster than your comfort pace and to allow yourself to make mistakes. Only by watching yourself mistype at that faster speed can you figure out the obstacles that are slowing you down and overcome them." Bottom line: in typing, like in life, we need to push ourselves out of our comfort zone, make mistakes, and learn from them.

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/02/20/magazine/mind-secrets.html?emc=eta1

Walking, again...

When I started blogging I put labels on my posts. I soon tired of doing that, trying to decide what category fit a particular entry. But now I fear I will be repeating myself. I shouldn't worry too much, because so few people read this.

I was reading the Chronicle of Higher Education during my lunch and ran across a short article about walking. The author argued that she was jealous of the smokers in her office who could take "cigarette breaks" midmorning and midafternoon. These breaks allowed them to get out of the office, socialize, and for a short time, put aside their normal work thoughts. She advocated that non-smokers take "walk breaks" to achieve similar results.

Walking is good for you, no doubt. But the benefits are not limited to physical, and the benefits do not depend on a long walk (although long walks fulfill a purpose all their own in my life.) Short walks allow for a mental and physical break from the office. A chance to get some sunshine and fresh air, a chance to refresh yourself.

In my job I like being able to get out of my office. Sometimes it is just to walk across campus for a meeting or class, other times I walk within my office building to visit a colleague. I do see the benefit and encourage everyone to find some time to do a little walking. Take a break from studying, from reading, from writing. You will come back to your task with new energy and insight.

127 Hours

I just came home from seeing this movie and it is on my mind. Most of you know the story, a hiker falls into a crevice and his arm is wedged between a rock and the canyon wall. He is stuck. The only way out, eventually, is for him to amputate his arm. The movie is pretty graphic....

But, there is much more to the story. The guy has lived his life pretty much doing what he wanted, when he wanted to do it. He told no one where he would be, he wasn't particularly well-prepared for the hike. He thought he was invincible. In the canyon he realizes that he was bound to end up in this type of predicament.."This rock has been waiting for me my whole life."

So, does the rock represent for each of us a seemingly insurmountable obstacle? Do we all have our rocks, our impossible predicaments? One message of the movie could be not to give up hope, not to succumb to an impossible situation, but continue to fight. The force of the human spirit is stronger than the situation. We will face obstacles, how we handle them is what determines the type of person we are.

Or, does the rock represent destiny? The hiker's actions all lead to this point. He was settting himself up for this. If that is the case, to what extent can we escape our past actions? Can we reset our path? If we create obstacles, or at least put ourselves in a position to face them, can we deflect them once the process has started? Can we change our fate, our destiny?

Nonsense questions

I recently read an article about the willingness of kids to answer nonsensical questions. So, for instance, you can ask a kid, "Which is heavier, red or yellow?" and they will readily supply an answer. They went on for a whole range of yes/no type questions and kids happily supplied an answer. But, if the question was more open-ended, the example was "What do feet eat for breakfast?" kids would say they didn't understand the question or say they didn't know.

What are the implications for survey research? Obvious. Social scientists routinely ask people for their opinions about a whole range of issues. Many of these are quite unfamiliar to the respondents. Many are worded in a way that reduces a complex issue to a simple description (success vs. failure). Yet, respondents generally are willing to give an opinion, provide an answer.

For survey researchers, this can be a problem. We may not really be measuring the idea we want to investigate.

But, I also recently read an article about working with Alzheimer's patients. One of the novel approaches was to introduce topics for which there may be no right or wrong answer, that don't depend on memory or recall. One example was, "What's better, coffee or meat?" The purpose of the questions is not to elicit a particular answer, but to establish a relationship with the other person, to engage them.

Maybe for children the nonsense questions seem like reasonable things to consider--wouldn't we all agree that red is heavier than yellow?