Thursday, May 05, 2011
April, Lost and Gone (or 5 for 5/5)
The past month has slipped away with nary a blog entry from your erstwhile author, though not for lack of interesting adventures. As per the suggestion of the Subaru Air Conditioner Compressor (and others) in the comments associated with my previous post, I feel it is my duty as a semi-responsible blogger to address a handful of these, even though such vignettes will, of necessity be compressed.
1. Meet the New Class
Early last month, Old Ivy invited all of the students accepted into the history and history of science programs to visit campus. Five years ago, I attended this same event and the activities have not really changed in the meanwhile. There are meetings with the department chairs, a student life panel (where this year yours truly appeared to represent students who had commuted to campus), and a happy hour at one of the town's few bars. The same questions are asked every year: What are good things about the program? How much teaching will I get to do? Why are there so few bars around campus? Apparently we must have answered them pretty well because next year's graduate cohort consists of 31 students, nearly twice as many as in my year! This, in and of itself, is not a bad thing, but as a broader trend in graduate education could leave people in the lurch as a growing number of Ph.D.'s are forced to fight for increasingly scarce jobs or postdocs. Whether or not universities will realize this in time is unclear as are the prospects for my upcoming entry on to the job market.
2. Threading the Needle
A few weeks after the prospective students' visit, I was invited by a local business history archive to present a chapter of my dissertation. Since the archive now serves as home to many of the documents associated with my research and several prominent scholars would be in attendance, I was eager to make the two hour drive south for the occasion. The discussion was analogous my department's program seminar, with the audience providing comments on a precirculated paper. However, unlike program seminar, where one typically knows most of the participants and can anticipate the types of questions that will be asked, there were many in the audience whom I simply did not recognize. Still, the guest commentator, responsible for framing the evening's discussion, seemed friendly and I had high hopes that his critiques would set a civil tone for the remainder of the evening's discussion.
Sadly, I was mistaken, for within moments I found myself beset on all sides by charges that my work, though well-written, lacked a strong enough theoretical claim. Moreover, I was taken to task for not overtly taking a stand against some aspect of the existing historiography of corporate research. Add into the mix the disruptive presence of a gentleman who was actually present during some of the period discussed in my chapter (A nice enough fellow, but with an unfortunate tendency to interrupt conversations to describe his own perspective...) and the whole event left me feeling somewhat dispirited about my ability to make any sort of meaningful contribution to the field of historical scholarship. Navigating between the Scylla of scholarly expectations and the Charybdis of eyewitness testimony continues to prove a daunting task. I wonder whether my dissertation will survive the process.
3. Batter Up!
Recently, the history department softball team held its first practice of the year. There's been some concern that we won't be able to mobilize a strong enough squad since summertime usually sees historians traveling the world in pursuit of exotic archives. Meanwhile, our colleagues in the sciences maintain full rosters since they are bound to the laboratories. Fortunately, we have devised a plan which promises to counter this depletion in manpower: an alliance with other humanities departments too small to field their own teams. Yes, scientists beware, for this summer you face the wrath of dozens of marginalized humanities scholars united into one formidable softball playing force! Assuming, of course, that we don't devolve into partisan bickering over standards of evidence, the contingency of truth, and the violence inherent in the system.
4. As Seen on TV?
When a former colleague of mine contacted me with an offer to serve as a substitute lecturer in his community college course on the history of technology, I had two thoughts. The first was that this would be a welcome opportunity to practice speaking before an audience of college-age students on a subject with which I was familiar, namely information and communication technologies. The second was hoping that what little I had learned about community college from the NBC sitcom Community was not necessarily representative of reality. With regard to the latter, I can note that my students, though a diverse bunch, did not transform the class into a self-referential homage to steampunk, and although an administrator did decide to drop in to listen to my lecture, he was not wearing a hilarious costume. As for the former, while the lecture ultimately turned out well, it was incredibly time-consuming to compile the materials due to the sheer scope of the project. Since the class only met once a week, this was to serve as their sole exposure to the subject of information technology. This meant that during the course of a 90 minute talk, I was expected to cover everything from the printing press to the Internet. In the end, I did just that and somehow managed to cobble together an additional hour-long book discussion despite the fact that only a quarter of the class acknowledged having done the reading. Whether or not the students found my instruction effective, I cannot say, but I am glad to have had the chance to read and talk about something other than my dissertation, at least for a little while.
5. The Two Towers' Long Shadows
On September 11, 2001, I overslept. As a result, I rushed to breakfast instead of spending time checking my e-mail or surfing the web as was my usual custom. Shortly before I bussed my tray and prepared to go to my introductory German class, a friend (who doesn't miss much) informed me that something terrible had happened in New York. Apparently, she had tried to send me an note on the subject using AOL Instant Messenger, but I had already left my room after posting an away message. As the full details emerged, I remember thinking to myself that it was too beautiful a day for the end of the world. As it turned out, Armageddon wasn't on the agenda, but America would never be the same. We had new enemies, new security policies that at times seemed drawn straight from Orwell, and a series of new wars, which threatened to last...well, who knew how long?
Almost a decade later, as I was putting the final touches on the lecture described above, President Obama announced that American forces had killed Osama Bin Laden. I'm not sure what the future holds now that Al Qaeda's leader is gone. All I could think about was how much things had changed in the intervening decade. Where I had heard about the attacks on New York from friends or (belatedly) via Instant Messenger, now the first indication that something was afoot came via the new social media of Facebook and Twitter. Back then, most of us watched CNN or the various network news stations, where today these have largely been drowned out by the consciously partisan reporting of Fox News and MSNBC. On a personal level, the undergraduate with an interest in international relations has given way to a graduate student dedicated to the history of technology. (If you had told me this last point a decade ago, I almost certainly would have laughed in disbelief.) So much has changed and yet we are still at war. Who knows how much things will change another decade down the line? Assuming this blog still exists, you can expect an update on this point sometime in 2021.
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The past month has slipped away with nary a blog entry from your erstwhile author, though not for lack of interesting adventures. As per the suggestion of the Subaru Air Conditioner Compressor (and others) in the comments associated with my previous post, I feel it is my duty as a semi-responsible blogger to address a handful of these, even though such vignettes will, of necessity be compressed.
1. Meet the New Class
Early last month, Old Ivy invited all of the students accepted into the history and history of science programs to visit campus. Five years ago, I attended this same event and the activities have not really changed in the meanwhile. There are meetings with the department chairs, a student life panel (where this year yours truly appeared to represent students who had commuted to campus), and a happy hour at one of the town's few bars. The same questions are asked every year: What are good things about the program? How much teaching will I get to do? Why are there so few bars around campus? Apparently we must have answered them pretty well because next year's graduate cohort consists of 31 students, nearly twice as many as in my year! This, in and of itself, is not a bad thing, but as a broader trend in graduate education could leave people in the lurch as a growing number of Ph.D.'s are forced to fight for increasingly scarce jobs or postdocs. Whether or not universities will realize this in time is unclear as are the prospects for my upcoming entry on to the job market.
2. Threading the Needle
A few weeks after the prospective students' visit, I was invited by a local business history archive to present a chapter of my dissertation. Since the archive now serves as home to many of the documents associated with my research and several prominent scholars would be in attendance, I was eager to make the two hour drive south for the occasion. The discussion was analogous my department's program seminar, with the audience providing comments on a precirculated paper. However, unlike program seminar, where one typically knows most of the participants and can anticipate the types of questions that will be asked, there were many in the audience whom I simply did not recognize. Still, the guest commentator, responsible for framing the evening's discussion, seemed friendly and I had high hopes that his critiques would set a civil tone for the remainder of the evening's discussion.
Sadly, I was mistaken, for within moments I found myself beset on all sides by charges that my work, though well-written, lacked a strong enough theoretical claim. Moreover, I was taken to task for not overtly taking a stand against some aspect of the existing historiography of corporate research. Add into the mix the disruptive presence of a gentleman who was actually present during some of the period discussed in my chapter (A nice enough fellow, but with an unfortunate tendency to interrupt conversations to describe his own perspective...) and the whole event left me feeling somewhat dispirited about my ability to make any sort of meaningful contribution to the field of historical scholarship. Navigating between the Scylla of scholarly expectations and the Charybdis of eyewitness testimony continues to prove a daunting task. I wonder whether my dissertation will survive the process.
3. Batter Up!
Recently, the history department softball team held its first practice of the year. There's been some concern that we won't be able to mobilize a strong enough squad since summertime usually sees historians traveling the world in pursuit of exotic archives. Meanwhile, our colleagues in the sciences maintain full rosters since they are bound to the laboratories. Fortunately, we have devised a plan which promises to counter this depletion in manpower: an alliance with other humanities departments too small to field their own teams. Yes, scientists beware, for this summer you face the wrath of dozens of marginalized humanities scholars united into one formidable softball playing force! Assuming, of course, that we don't devolve into partisan bickering over standards of evidence, the contingency of truth, and the violence inherent in the system.
4. As Seen on TV?
When a former colleague of mine contacted me with an offer to serve as a substitute lecturer in his community college course on the history of technology, I had two thoughts. The first was that this would be a welcome opportunity to practice speaking before an audience of college-age students on a subject with which I was familiar, namely information and communication technologies. The second was hoping that what little I had learned about community college from the NBC sitcom Community was not necessarily representative of reality. With regard to the latter, I can note that my students, though a diverse bunch, did not transform the class into a self-referential homage to steampunk, and although an administrator did decide to drop in to listen to my lecture, he was not wearing a hilarious costume. As for the former, while the lecture ultimately turned out well, it was incredibly time-consuming to compile the materials due to the sheer scope of the project. Since the class only met once a week, this was to serve as their sole exposure to the subject of information technology. This meant that during the course of a 90 minute talk, I was expected to cover everything from the printing press to the Internet. In the end, I did just that and somehow managed to cobble together an additional hour-long book discussion despite the fact that only a quarter of the class acknowledged having done the reading. Whether or not the students found my instruction effective, I cannot say, but I am glad to have had the chance to read and talk about something other than my dissertation, at least for a little while.
5. The Two Towers' Long Shadows
On September 11, 2001, I overslept. As a result, I rushed to breakfast instead of spending time checking my e-mail or surfing the web as was my usual custom. Shortly before I bussed my tray and prepared to go to my introductory German class, a friend (who doesn't miss much) informed me that something terrible had happened in New York. Apparently, she had tried to send me an note on the subject using AOL Instant Messenger, but I had already left my room after posting an away message. As the full details emerged, I remember thinking to myself that it was too beautiful a day for the end of the world. As it turned out, Armageddon wasn't on the agenda, but America would never be the same. We had new enemies, new security policies that at times seemed drawn straight from Orwell, and a series of new wars, which threatened to last...well, who knew how long?
Almost a decade later, as I was putting the final touches on the lecture described above, President Obama announced that American forces had killed Osama Bin Laden. I'm not sure what the future holds now that Al Qaeda's leader is gone. All I could think about was how much things had changed in the intervening decade. Where I had heard about the attacks on New York from friends or (belatedly) via Instant Messenger, now the first indication that something was afoot came via the new social media of Facebook and Twitter. Back then, most of us watched CNN or the various network news stations, where today these have largely been drowned out by the consciously partisan reporting of Fox News and MSNBC. On a personal level, the undergraduate with an interest in international relations has given way to a graduate student dedicated to the history of technology. (If you had told me this last point a decade ago, I almost certainly would have laughed in disbelief.) So much has changed and yet we are still at war. Who knows how much things will change another decade down the line? Assuming this blog still exists, you can expect an update on this point sometime in 2021.
