Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Thoughts on the Bailout
Despite the copy editing errors (I count two), this Philadelphia Daily News column provides a clear and succinct discussion of the current financial crisis. And I'm not just saying that because my grandfather wrote it.
What do you think?
(1) comments
Despite the copy editing errors (I count two), this Philadelphia Daily News column provides a clear and succinct discussion of the current financial crisis. And I'm not just saying that because my grandfather wrote it.
What do you think?
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Back in the Saddle Again
I returned home yesterday afternoon after a commute nearly twice as long as normal, thanks to a wonderful combination of two-lane suburban roads, an uncleared accident, and a seemingly unending stream of rubberneckers. By the time I finally got back to the Invisible Suburb, I was exhausted. And honestly, given my schedule, I think I was justified in going to bed early and sleeping almost twelve hours. After all, beyond commuting, I participated in a two hour long discussion of colonialism and citizenship in French West Africa, a formal lunch held at the faculty dining hall, and...oh yes, my return to the classroom.
Yes, for the first time since Underwood, I passed out student information sheets and prepared to deliver a lesson. But unlike Underwood, where students were late, noisy, and disrespectful, my students were all prompt (a few arrived a full ten minutes early), quiet, and attentive as I introduced myself and laid out the expectations for the course. I'm a preceptor, which is basically Old Ivy's ultra-pretentious term for "teaching assistant", but I wanted to let them know that I have a solid grounding in the history of modern science as well as previous teaching experience. It's hard to tell at this point how well I accomplished these objectives, but the follow up discussion on the contrasting theological and natural philosophic views of Leibniz and Newton suggests that the students at least tried to do the reading and were not opposed to the idea of class participation. Certainly a positive shift from my previous job.
Part of this may simply be a matter of class size. Unlike Underwood, where I was lucky to have a room with enough desks for my thirty or more students, my two precepts have only three and nine students respectively. That's right...thanks to my decision to teach on Fridays, my classes have less than a tenth as many students as I did as a high school teacher. Also, classroom management seems unlikely to be an issue, at least not in the way it used to be. Instead of students cussing me out, sleeping, throwing things, or stabbing each other with pencils, it looks like my biggest challenge will be making sure that my enthusiastic students don't go too far off topic in their attempts while demonstrating how smart they are (or think they are). For those keeping track, my second biggest challenge will be lesson planning a free-flowing discussion as compared to more structured lectures and worksheets...in other words, learning to let go somewhat and trust that my class doesn't need quite as much hand holding. Challenge #3 will be making sure that these students, almost all of whom are science majors taking this to fulfill their course distribution requirements, recognize that the study of the natural world does not possess a fixed and unchanging set of norms and practices and that approaches to the subject a century ago may seem strange, unfamiliar, and at times downright illogical to someone with contemporary training.
And then there's the more mundane issue of maintaining energy and enthusiasm for the subject on a Friday.
But all in all, it was a positive, albeit exhausting experience. The lesson went well enough, though I'll likely reassert the central point about the interplay of theology and natural philosophy at the start of next week's class...just to be sure we're all on the same page.
(0) comments
I returned home yesterday afternoon after a commute nearly twice as long as normal, thanks to a wonderful combination of two-lane suburban roads, an uncleared accident, and a seemingly unending stream of rubberneckers. By the time I finally got back to the Invisible Suburb, I was exhausted. And honestly, given my schedule, I think I was justified in going to bed early and sleeping almost twelve hours. After all, beyond commuting, I participated in a two hour long discussion of colonialism and citizenship in French West Africa, a formal lunch held at the faculty dining hall, and...oh yes, my return to the classroom.
Yes, for the first time since Underwood, I passed out student information sheets and prepared to deliver a lesson. But unlike Underwood, where students were late, noisy, and disrespectful, my students were all prompt (a few arrived a full ten minutes early), quiet, and attentive as I introduced myself and laid out the expectations for the course. I'm a preceptor, which is basically Old Ivy's ultra-pretentious term for "teaching assistant", but I wanted to let them know that I have a solid grounding in the history of modern science as well as previous teaching experience. It's hard to tell at this point how well I accomplished these objectives, but the follow up discussion on the contrasting theological and natural philosophic views of Leibniz and Newton suggests that the students at least tried to do the reading and were not opposed to the idea of class participation. Certainly a positive shift from my previous job.
Part of this may simply be a matter of class size. Unlike Underwood, where I was lucky to have a room with enough desks for my thirty or more students, my two precepts have only three and nine students respectively. That's right...thanks to my decision to teach on Fridays, my classes have less than a tenth as many students as I did as a high school teacher. Also, classroom management seems unlikely to be an issue, at least not in the way it used to be. Instead of students cussing me out, sleeping, throwing things, or stabbing each other with pencils, it looks like my biggest challenge will be making sure that my enthusiastic students don't go too far off topic in their attempts while demonstrating how smart they are (or think they are). For those keeping track, my second biggest challenge will be lesson planning a free-flowing discussion as compared to more structured lectures and worksheets...in other words, learning to let go somewhat and trust that my class doesn't need quite as much hand holding. Challenge #3 will be making sure that these students, almost all of whom are science majors taking this to fulfill their course distribution requirements, recognize that the study of the natural world does not possess a fixed and unchanging set of norms and practices and that approaches to the subject a century ago may seem strange, unfamiliar, and at times downright illogical to someone with contemporary training.
And then there's the more mundane issue of maintaining energy and enthusiasm for the subject on a Friday.
But all in all, it was a positive, albeit exhausting experience. The lesson went well enough, though I'll likely reassert the central point about the interplay of theology and natural philosophy at the start of next week's class...just to be sure we're all on the same page.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Rusty Familiarity
So here I am again. It's a little past 7 in the morning and in a few moments I shall be starting my commute to sit in front of a group of students whom I've never met to teach them a subject I only tentatively understand using a lesson plan whose success remains entirely uncertain.
Yes, that sinking feeling in my stomach can only mean one thing: It's the first day of school!
Now granted, T.A.'ing (or "precepting" as they call it at Old Ivy) an undergraduate course on the history of modern science is a far cry from introducing unwilling ninth graders to the wonders of basic chemistry. These students have, at least in theory, all proven their intelligence, capacity for self-motivation, and interest in the subject just by getting to this point in their academic careers. And this course, taught by my advisor, covers the period of my general examination's major field, so I basically spent all of last year preparing for this moment.
Still, I have my concerns. Unlike at Underwood, I am not going to be lecturing to these students, but rather attempting to get them actively engaged in discussion surrounding a primary source document. (In this case, a piece of natural philosophic correspondence from the early 18th century.) If my old work was similar to that of a stand-up comedian, who labors for months behind the scenes crafting just the right material for a given evening on stage, this is going to be more like an improv group which relies on active audience participation. These are two very different things, and the latter presents all manner of uncertainty. How, pray tell, can I guarantee effective (and balanced) engagement from all seminar participants, especially since one section is at the depressingly early hour (for college students) of 9 AM? My old and familiar lesson planning techniques may have to fall by the wayside. In effect, I'm working somewhat without a net.
Fortunately, the structure of the course might remedy that problem somewhat. The professor has mandated that each week we discuss only a single primary source and students are required to submit a reading response about that source by 6 PM the night before. For me, that's 6 PM on Thursday. Almost everyone got their comments in on time and their ideas helped me structure discussion more effectively. There were a few misspelled words (e.g. "rebuttle") and one egregiously late submission sent out at midnight, but otherwise the papers were quite helpful in determining what students didn't understand or wanted to discuss.
We'll see whether or not the discussion I have planned for today effectively taps into that classroom zeitgeist. Hopefully, no one, including myself, will entirely dominate the conversation, and everyone (also including myself) will come away feeling more confident about their ability to face the rest of the semester.
If I have enough energy, I'll post a recap tonight to let you know how things go.
For now, it's time to hit the road. This seminar isn't going to teach itself, you know!
(1) comments
So here I am again. It's a little past 7 in the morning and in a few moments I shall be starting my commute to sit in front of a group of students whom I've never met to teach them a subject I only tentatively understand using a lesson plan whose success remains entirely uncertain.
Yes, that sinking feeling in my stomach can only mean one thing: It's the first day of school!
Now granted, T.A.'ing (or "precepting" as they call it at Old Ivy) an undergraduate course on the history of modern science is a far cry from introducing unwilling ninth graders to the wonders of basic chemistry. These students have, at least in theory, all proven their intelligence, capacity for self-motivation, and interest in the subject just by getting to this point in their academic careers. And this course, taught by my advisor, covers the period of my general examination's major field, so I basically spent all of last year preparing for this moment.
Still, I have my concerns. Unlike at Underwood, I am not going to be lecturing to these students, but rather attempting to get them actively engaged in discussion surrounding a primary source document. (In this case, a piece of natural philosophic correspondence from the early 18th century.) If my old work was similar to that of a stand-up comedian, who labors for months behind the scenes crafting just the right material for a given evening on stage, this is going to be more like an improv group which relies on active audience participation. These are two very different things, and the latter presents all manner of uncertainty. How, pray tell, can I guarantee effective (and balanced) engagement from all seminar participants, especially since one section is at the depressingly early hour (for college students) of 9 AM? My old and familiar lesson planning techniques may have to fall by the wayside. In effect, I'm working somewhat without a net.
Fortunately, the structure of the course might remedy that problem somewhat. The professor has mandated that each week we discuss only a single primary source and students are required to submit a reading response about that source by 6 PM the night before. For me, that's 6 PM on Thursday. Almost everyone got their comments in on time and their ideas helped me structure discussion more effectively. There were a few misspelled words (e.g. "rebuttle") and one egregiously late submission sent out at midnight, but otherwise the papers were quite helpful in determining what students didn't understand or wanted to discuss.
We'll see whether or not the discussion I have planned for today effectively taps into that classroom zeitgeist. Hopefully, no one, including myself, will entirely dominate the conversation, and everyone (also including myself) will come away feeling more confident about their ability to face the rest of the semester.
If I have enough energy, I'll post a recap tonight to let you know how things go.
For now, it's time to hit the road. This seminar isn't going to teach itself, you know!
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Greetings from the Invisible Suburb
With summer sputtering to its humid, muggy conclusion and the onset of the new academic year, it's time for those of us who have been procrastinating all summer to get back into the game. I'll leave the issue of whether the game in question should be literal or figurative to the philosophers and instead devote the majority of this post to that most classic of all September assignments: How did I spend my summer vacation?
Much of my summer was spent working on various academic projects--including my prospectus, a wide-ranging update to my professor's history of biology lectures, and a conference presentation for next month--albeit with somewhat less rigor than that required by my general exams. All of these were useful exercises and one (the biology lectures) actually provided some much-appreciated supplemental income.
Why much appreciated? Because in addition to travel fees to the aforementioned conference (more on that in a future post), it had become clear by the middle of last semester that I would need to move. Renting a room at the Invisible Commune had possessed definite advantages, including proximity to Old Ivy's campus, free Internet and laundry access, and a parking spot for the Ben-mobile. But there were also drawbacks...the kitchen was abysmal (when it was not being confiscated due to the whims of my landlords, or perhaps more accurately, their neighbors...again, a subject for further elaboration), climate control became a rather significant issue throughout the year, and don't get me started about the shower. (Both Mathman and Caseator can attest to that following their visit in July.) Yes, the time had come for a change.
Normally, I'm not one who handles change well, but I think I'm starting to settle into life here in my new home in the Invisible Suburbs. Despite the vast expansion of my personal carbon footprint due to the hour-plus commute between here and Old Ivy, lack of proximity to campus has not yet proven overwhelming, though we'll see how I feel after another month or so. No rush hour frustration, however, can subvert the fact that instead of having to share the third floor of a century old house with three other strangers, I now share a medium-sized two-bedroom apartment with my girlfriend. An apartment with such modern features as:
1. Air conditioning
2. A kitchen complete with oven and dishwasher
3. A bathroom with a working shower
4. A patio, perfect for grilling
5. Did I mention the air conditioning already? It likely won't be important in another month, but after only a few weeks I wonder how I survived without it.
This is not to claim there were not some difficulties with furnishing the place. The kitchen, though nice, is small, and due to limited seating space, entertaining visitors may prove a challenge. Thanks to Craig's List, we have a nice couch, but we have yet to figure out how one goes about cleaning it since it's microfiber. And then there's the issue of closet space.
Still, these are relatively minor issues. Right now, I'm just glad that my computer is finally set up and I can access the Internet again thanks to the magic of wireless networking. And yes, that means that blogging will resume, and just in time. It looks like I'll finally be returning the classroom at the end of this week.
Will Old Ivy's finest compare to my former students at Underwood High?
You'll just have to tune in to find out.
(0) comments
With summer sputtering to its humid, muggy conclusion and the onset of the new academic year, it's time for those of us who have been procrastinating all summer to get back into the game. I'll leave the issue of whether the game in question should be literal or figurative to the philosophers and instead devote the majority of this post to that most classic of all September assignments: How did I spend my summer vacation?
Much of my summer was spent working on various academic projects--including my prospectus, a wide-ranging update to my professor's history of biology lectures, and a conference presentation for next month--albeit with somewhat less rigor than that required by my general exams. All of these were useful exercises and one (the biology lectures) actually provided some much-appreciated supplemental income.
Why much appreciated? Because in addition to travel fees to the aforementioned conference (more on that in a future post), it had become clear by the middle of last semester that I would need to move. Renting a room at the Invisible Commune had possessed definite advantages, including proximity to Old Ivy's campus, free Internet and laundry access, and a parking spot for the Ben-mobile. But there were also drawbacks...the kitchen was abysmal (when it was not being confiscated due to the whims of my landlords, or perhaps more accurately, their neighbors...again, a subject for further elaboration), climate control became a rather significant issue throughout the year, and don't get me started about the shower. (Both Mathman and Caseator can attest to that following their visit in July.) Yes, the time had come for a change.
Normally, I'm not one who handles change well, but I think I'm starting to settle into life here in my new home in the Invisible Suburbs. Despite the vast expansion of my personal carbon footprint due to the hour-plus commute between here and Old Ivy, lack of proximity to campus has not yet proven overwhelming, though we'll see how I feel after another month or so. No rush hour frustration, however, can subvert the fact that instead of having to share the third floor of a century old house with three other strangers, I now share a medium-sized two-bedroom apartment with my girlfriend. An apartment with such modern features as:
1. Air conditioning
2. A kitchen complete with oven and dishwasher
3. A bathroom with a working shower
4. A patio, perfect for grilling
5. Did I mention the air conditioning already? It likely won't be important in another month, but after only a few weeks I wonder how I survived without it.
This is not to claim there were not some difficulties with furnishing the place. The kitchen, though nice, is small, and due to limited seating space, entertaining visitors may prove a challenge. Thanks to Craig's List, we have a nice couch, but we have yet to figure out how one goes about cleaning it since it's microfiber. And then there's the issue of closet space.
Still, these are relatively minor issues. Right now, I'm just glad that my computer is finally set up and I can access the Internet again thanks to the magic of wireless networking. And yes, that means that blogging will resume, and just in time. It looks like I'll finally be returning the classroom at the end of this week.
Will Old Ivy's finest compare to my former students at Underwood High?
You'll just have to tune in to find out.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
In A World (Without Donald LaFontaine)
The "Voice of God" is dead. Now who will narrate our movie trailers?
You? Or you? Or...YOU?
He did a wonderful guest stint on "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me...", but this video confirms that he was the king of the voice-over actors.
(1) comments
The "Voice of God" is dead. Now who will narrate our movie trailers?
You? Or you? Or...YOU?
He did a wonderful guest stint on "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me...", but this video confirms that he was the king of the voice-over actors.
