Month: January 2012

If I take a course, but it’s not for credit, does it make a sound?

Three different sources sent me news of Sebastian Thrun leaving Stanford in favor of literally bigger, if not better things. I dig Thrun’s move for the moment because it throws light on the idea of moving outside the currently restricted system of education delivery. It’s not new, what he’s doing, but it’s new to him, and likely most of the readers who are flabbergasted by the move.

Today was a moment where I experienced first-hand some of the conundrums possible if disruptions like Thrun’s take hold.

For the moment, I’m cross-registered at the Kennedy School of Government in a course called Solving Problems Using Digital Technology. While the title may not be incredibly sexy, the course is. Forged in a partnership with Boston Mayor Tom Menino’s New Urban Mechanics office and the Dudley Street Neighborhood Initiative (DSNI), the class is pretty much everything I could hope for in a learning environment. Studying tech tools and open government practices, students are charged with partnering with the DSNI to help shape the neighborhood’s plan for continued urban renewal.

The learning and work of the class will have a direct impact on improving the lives of those we study and make the learning immediately practical in our lives.

Today was the course’s first meeting.

The room was packed.

The course is capped at 32.

I am a cross-registrant.

When such popularity happens in a Kennedy School course, registration moves to some strange bidding process akin to an academic auction I am not completely clear about.

Cross-registrants need not concern themselves, the process pretty much precludes them from obtaining spots in the class.

My hope at this point is teeny.

The course will be made public in many ways. Sessions will be aired via a Google+ Hangout and their recordings posted on youtube for viewing. The course has a twitter handle and its site lives on Google (outside of the Kennedy School’s walled system).

Each of these is a reason I want to take the course and ostensibly a reason it shouldn’t matter that, like Thurn’s students I’m not actually present or enrolled for credit in the course.

Except, I’m looking to complete my program of study this academic year, and no matter the proof, attempting to show informal participation in a course in order to obtain credit means that learning won’t move me closer to that goal.

Without the credit, I miss the diploma. Without the diploma, I lose the blip on the CV still valued by the majority of the world.

Learning matters.

Credits and accreditation matter.

While both are important, the combination of both is more powerful than either could hope to be on its own.

I’m not sure what I’ll do if I don’t make it into the class. If I say I’ll follow along as an outsider, I imagine it’s only a matter of time before the work of my for-credit courses creep in. I wonder what the rate of creepage is for registrants in Thurn’s courses when whatever qualifies as their “for-credit” commitments begin to creep in.

What I’m Doing This Year: The Resolutions

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At the end of May, I’ll be doing something different with my life than I was doing in October and different still from what I was doing 365 days before that. This promises to be a year of change to rival the changes of years past.
As I was working on my resolutions for the year, I kept this in mind. I want to document the year with the same spirit as last year, and I know another daily writing project will run the risk of draining me and distracting me from experiencing what’s going on as the changes take place.
As such, I’ve arrived at the following resolutions:
1. Run every day for at least 10 minutes. This one was clearing inspired by last year’s project. I understood the why better through explaining it to someone else. I came to know myself as a writer last year by putting myself in writing each day. In the same way, when I get to know people, I think of myself as a writer and a runner. So, I’ll be running. It’s a new approach. I’ll be running for 10 minutes some days, though my mind will want to go farther. I like that. I like actively working to shift my paradigm and experience as a runner. I’m also knowledgeable enough as a runner, at this point, to know to listen to my body and be mindful of the injuries possible in such an undertaking. If this year is to include the geographic changes I anticipate it to, experiencing where I am and who I am in those places through running will be interesting.
2. Make one photo each week that represents that week of the year. I thought briefly about a photo-a-day project, but my sister, Kirstie, helped me make up my mind. Kirstie is, as I have said, a brilliant photographer with a keen eye. She completed a 365 project last year to tremendous results. When I asked her if she would be continuing it this year, she said no. The goal of a photo each day meant she wasn’t creating shots of the quality she wanted. I can appreciate that. This year, she’s surveyed 52 friends and family members for inspirations quotations and ideas. Each week, she’ll be creating a photo each week around one of those guiding ideas. My project will be less global and much more self-centered, but I hope it to be a catalog of life this year that pushes me to think more visually. The photo above was my first week’s attempt.
3. Go vegan. I’m still a little sketchy of the details on this one. I wrote last year of my month-long go at eating vegan and the cultural and personal quandaries it inspired. Since then, I’ve continued to consider my role as a citizen, the effects of what I eat on who and what I am, and the footprint of all of this. I’m starting to think of this as a biological retirement plan. More on this later.
4. Journal each day (even if it’s only a line). My mom journals every day. Leading up to the new year, she spent her mornings on the couch reading through her life in years past and remembering the connective tissue of who she is now. For a long time, I journaled alongside my students in class. It’s different than blogging, and I want to remember why.
5. Read 52 books. That’s it. Similar to running, I count myself as a reader. As much as I could easily remain among the choir who chant solemnly they “don’t have time” to read, I know I can make time for this. To be sure, grad school will continue to help push me toward this goal. The other piece is one of genuine living. In the classroom, I told students over and over of the connection between reading, writing, and thinking. I insisted they would be better writers for reading and vice versa. If I am to stand by that and improve as a writer, I must read. Fifty-two is an arbitrary goal furnished by the calendar. Still, it’s as good a number as any.
I didn’t intend 5 resolutions this year. It just shook out that way. As much as I’m excited to work at each of them, I’m excited to find how my internal understanding and logic of the rules surrounding each resolutions shifts during the year.
I’m most curious to see how they shape me.

What I Read: ‘You Are What You Speak’ by Robert Lane Greene

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One of the reviews of this book faults Greene for writing about linguistics without being a linguist. I don’t find the same fault in the pages here. Certainly, this has the density one would expect from an Economist writer, but don’t let that fool you.
As an English major and English teacher who has been thinking about these things for some time, the initial introduction to prescriptivism and descriptivism did much to act as a refresher for the topics and lay the foundation of the different global perspectives of the book.
From a historical understanding of the resurrection of Hebrew to the formation of modern Turkish (an subsequent distance from pre-1930 Turkish texts), I’m walking away from this book with much richer and deeper understanding of language and it’s formation around the world.
Perhaps most helpful for me was Greene’s clear love of language. If there were any impediment created by his lack of training as a linguist, his love of language makes up for it handily.
Reading about language from the perspective of one who is so clearly curious and in love with language shapes the book as a tool for infectious love of language.
If you’re curious about language, read this. If you’re passionate about language, read this. If you are hungry for a appropriately-dense text acting as a primer to understanding linguistics, read this. It’s not a book for everyone, but it’s definitely a book for those who love and are fascinated by language.

cross-posted at http://goodreads.com/mrchase

Know your audience

MAKE IT HAPPEN

“Start with a reasonable goal, develop a plan, then record your workouts and progress,” says Martin. “If that’s not enough motivation to not skip workouts, find a coach or a training buddy who can help you keep your feet to the fire, and announce your goals to friends, family, and coworkers.” Social media is a good place to declare your running plans, too, whether it’s Facebook, Twitter, dailymile.com, or runnersworld.com (Forums or The Loop). If all else fails, for every mile you run reward yourself with $1 toward a trip or something else you desire. Just don’t confuse consistency with rigidity. It’s okay to skip a run for a legit reason; it’s not okay to repeatedly skip them if your reasons are as thin as an Ethiopian marathoner.

DEGREE OF DIFFICULTY 6

via 2012 Running Resolutions at Runner’s World.

In the march toward defining my New Year’s Resolutions, I was reading this article today. Bob Cooper of RunnersWorld.com does something simple and brilliant that works toward the argument of knowing your audience. After building a case for each resolution and providing starting steps, he includes one other piece of information – a degree of difficulty.

It’s a perfect example of writing with your audience in mind. The folks stopping by RW are looking for a challenge. They hit the road or trail each day looking for something a little more than they found their last time out. Cooper includes no explanation for his designations, but that doesn’t matter.

When we talk about creativity and approaching problems from new angles, it’s often implied that type of thinking needs to be gigantic and disruptive at all times. Cooper manages to be fresh and creative in his writing with the addition of a three words and a number.

Now, how do you teach this kind of thinking?