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.