So I really, truly do not want to dominate the discussion (take Philosophy as Conversation with me if you want that! T, Th, 8:15, spring semester. (note to self: you use too many parentheses.)) I'd be happy to carry out a conversation right here on this little ol' blog. I'd even give Collo hours for it. That said, here are some additional thoughts prompted by today's discussion.
(Resist the urge to put this whole paragraph in parentheses. Must resist. Ah, too weak...I think this kind of engagement is sort of the point, or at least a point, of this class. The class has prompted me to think about all kinds of things I would not have otherwise thought about. I've reflected on things, been challenged on things, and have had to confront things coming at me from different points of view. Those are all good things, and I know those are all things Pat hopes to accomplish with the course. Education should be about the free exchange of ideas. That means voicing opinions and exploring alternatives. We may turn out to be wrong, and that's important to know. We don't find that out if we don't play the game. Our knowledge doesn't advance in isolation. We have to engage in the sometimes messy arena of academic discourse. I think it's fun, too, but your mileage may vary. Anyway, that's the spirit of all of this. I want to engage the ideas, and I want to know if I'm wrong. I want to hear contrary views, and I want to try to defend my own. At the end of the day, I most want to believe things that are true, and I don't know any other way to go about that.)
Okay, with that out of the way...I was thinking about the discussion today in connection to my own vegetarianism. I think meat-eating is natural for humans. There is a lot of evolutionary evidence for this. Eating meat seems to have played a significant factor in the development of our brains, for example. People have eaten meat for a very, very long time. My choice to not eat meat is, in that sense, unnatural.
On top of the naturalness of eating meat, there are also a lot of cultural norms surrounding it. We eat turkey on Thanksgiving and lamb on Easter. Tailgating is for random assortments of beef and pork products, and bacon is apparently for everything. As a man, I'm supposed to love steak and softcore pornographic Hardee's commercials of women biting into greasy hamburgers. These things do not seem natural to me. They are clearly a product of our culture. They are cultural norms that are built on our natural inclination and evolutionary history of eating meat.
So I think the general predominance of meat-eating has both natural and cultural origins. I have seen many vegans and vegetarians get very animated and be very intent on denying the naturalness of eating meat. I take it that they believe they need to deny this in order to refute some argument that leads to the conclusion that eating meat is okay. I think this is mistaken. We don't need to be pushed into denying things that are true in order to argue for the wrongness of eating meat. The better place to cut off the argument is in the purported connection between something being natural and it being permissible. Violence may come naturally to us, but that doesn't make it permissible. Yes, eating meat may be natural, but so what? It is, and you shouldn't do it. That's perfectly consistent, and doesn't involve denying what seems to be true about our nature.
On culture, I can say from experience that it is hard to fight against the cultural traditions on this. They are powerful. I hear their call. I do think it's valuable to recognize them and, if you determine that they are promulgating immorality, to stop engaging in them. But I also recognize that that decision comes with a cost. The absolute best (and last) hot dog I ate was in 1998 outside of old Yankee Stadium (where, incidentally, I saw one of the best teams ever lose to the Anaheim Angels when they still sucked. (Damn it, Hedden, just stop with the parentheses, seriously.)) There was something unbelievably satisfying about that hot dog. Replacing that with a gelatinous hot dog shaped combination of chemicals, additives, and textured vegetable protein just doesn't do the same thing for me. I can't imagine having that same feeling of satisfaction gnawing on a carrot stick. I think that's largely cultural, maybe partly natural. I think those feelings have value and all of those traditions involving meat have value. That's all value that I miss out on because I've made a decision to not eat meat. I think it's the right decision, but I also think there are good things in the world that I miss out on because of it.
How does all or any of this relate to the discussion in class? Oh, hell, I don't really know. Maybe this. There is (it seems to me) a natural inclination for women to be more nurturing. There are also a lot of cultural norms that have been built around that. A lot of those are repressive and limit people's ability to live the life they want. Those norms are powerful, and they are often destructive. But we can work to change the norms without denying the underlying biological factors. Again, nature isn't normative. We can be natural born meat-eaters and natural-born nurturers and permissibly choose to do neither. Cultural traditions make both of those choices harder. That's a problem, and one we should try to change. But we should keep in mind that there is value in doing what comes naturally, and value in participating in some cultural traditions (that hot dog was damn good, I promise.) And, more importantly, whatever ends we seek and whatever kind of culture we want, we shouldn't elevate that above the truth. Truth matters, even when it is inconvenient for our particular ends.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Monday, October 24, 2016
Semi-random thoughts on the discussion of "A Doll('s) House"
(1) Maybe I'm the one taking crazy pills here, so feel free to set me straight. One thing that was discussed in class was whether women were "natural born nurturers." First, obviously #notallwomen. With that out of the way, it seems to me that there is a natural inclination for women to be more nurturing. Clearly some of this is a result of culture, but I don't think that's the whole story. Patriarchy isn't responsible for female chimpanzees taking care of their young is it? There's something biological there, no? Did the patriarchy alter evolution? Did those genes disappear in humans only to be replaced by a repressive culture? I'm skeptical, to say the least.
I don't think much hinges in terms of equality on the naturalness of nurturing, so I'm not sure why there is the desire to deny what seems (to me) to be plainly obvious. As a pure description of the actual world, I think there is a strong case to be made for the claim that women are more naturally inclined to nurturing. But nature isn't normative, or so says me. That something is natural doesn't mean you should do it, and unnaturalness doesn't equate with wrongness. Writing with my left hand is incredibly unnatural for me. So what? Surely that doesn't make it wrong. And having and nurturing children might be natural for women, but so what? That doesn't mean there's any obligation to do that.
Our equality as people doesn't depend on any descriptive equality. We are not, in fact, equal in that sense. Some are smarter, better looking, stronger, taller, etc. than others. If our principle of equality is based on actual equality, we're in trouble. The point of a principle of equality is to be prescriptive, not descriptive. We should treat people (and maybe animals) with dignity and respect, and their individual interests should be protected with rights. That's not because we all have the same qualities, natural or otherwise. It's because...well, I'll leave that as an exercise for the reader, except to say that I don't think it is because, absent culture, we are all really just alike.
(2) Another idea that was batted around was whether Nora's main responsibility, or ultimate responsibility, is to herself. I don't think the implication was that she has no responsibility to her children, but it sometimes veered towards that. That seems wrong to me. When you are responsible for bringing a big bundle of needs into the world, it seems to me you incur an obligation to meet those needs. So yes, she has obligations to her children. The question is whether those obligations are outweighed, or are rendered moot, by other circumstances. We do often obligate ourselves in ways that limit our freedom. That's what a promise is. I restrict my freedom to do whatever I want by promising that I will do what I promise to do. If my promises are really "I promise to do this, provided it is what I want to do at the time" then the promise isn't a promise. Of course, there are conditions that would make it permissible to not fulfill a promise. If I promise to have lunch with you and getting there requires navigating a minefield, surely it's permissible to fail to meet that obligation. So how close is Nora's situation to that? That seems to me the (or a) relevant question.
(3) Perhaps related to that, here's a wee thought experiment. What if Torvald "got woke" and realized the unequal, oppressive nature of his marriage. He now wants a genuinely equal partnership. And let's say Nora is quite happy being a doll. She wants the marriage to remain as it is. Is it okay for Torvald to just leave her and the children? Do we have the same reactions to that as to Nora leaving? Obviously the circumstances are different for them, but maybe thinking about the Bizarro World version of the play is a way to clarify exactly what the differences are that are supposed to make a difference.
(4) On marriage generally, it seems to me important to not discount more traditional marriages. My parents have been married for over 40 years. My mom got married five days after she graduated high school. She never went to college. She had and raised two children, and has only worked for brief periods of time. I don't think she's oppressed, or suffers from false consciousness, or is a victim of the patriarchy. She is living the life she chose, and I don't think she'd trade it. My dad is living the life he chose, and they are both living the life they chose and have continually chosen for 40+ years. It's not the life I chose, which is as it should be. We should be able to make our own choices, including choices about the kinds of relationships we're going to have. But advocating for more options and choices doesn't have to mean discounting one of those choices. If a woman wants most of all to be a mother and to stay at home and raise her children, why is that bad, exactly? It seems to infantilize such women to tell them that that is not what they really want, and that they should want something else.
(5) On a broader note, related to (4), it seems to me important to at least acknowledge the value of tradition. We shouldn't be bound by it, and we should fight injustices. But we also shouldn't avoid things just because they are traditional, or are the way things have always been. A lot of things look stupid and unjustified if you push on them. Is there any rational defense of Santa Claus? I don't know of one, but that doesn't mean participating in that particular tradition has no value. Of course, it doesn't mean you have to participate in it. But there is some value in it, and that value is largely, I think, tied to it being a cultural tradition. Similarly, I think we should at least acknowledge the importance of traditional institutions. Maybe some need to be changed, or overthrown entirely. But that should be done cautiously. We should recognize the limits of our own reasoning and our own fallibility. It can be dangerous to substitute the theory of the day for hundreds or thousands of years of tradition. Again, that doesn't mean we should never do that, or we should elevate tradition above anything else. We shouldn't. But it's not nothing, and it's not without value.
Okay, thus concludes my semi-random, gadfly-ish thoughts from the back of the room. Fire away.
I don't think much hinges in terms of equality on the naturalness of nurturing, so I'm not sure why there is the desire to deny what seems (to me) to be plainly obvious. As a pure description of the actual world, I think there is a strong case to be made for the claim that women are more naturally inclined to nurturing. But nature isn't normative, or so says me. That something is natural doesn't mean you should do it, and unnaturalness doesn't equate with wrongness. Writing with my left hand is incredibly unnatural for me. So what? Surely that doesn't make it wrong. And having and nurturing children might be natural for women, but so what? That doesn't mean there's any obligation to do that.
Our equality as people doesn't depend on any descriptive equality. We are not, in fact, equal in that sense. Some are smarter, better looking, stronger, taller, etc. than others. If our principle of equality is based on actual equality, we're in trouble. The point of a principle of equality is to be prescriptive, not descriptive. We should treat people (and maybe animals) with dignity and respect, and their individual interests should be protected with rights. That's not because we all have the same qualities, natural or otherwise. It's because...well, I'll leave that as an exercise for the reader, except to say that I don't think it is because, absent culture, we are all really just alike.
(2) Another idea that was batted around was whether Nora's main responsibility, or ultimate responsibility, is to herself. I don't think the implication was that she has no responsibility to her children, but it sometimes veered towards that. That seems wrong to me. When you are responsible for bringing a big bundle of needs into the world, it seems to me you incur an obligation to meet those needs. So yes, she has obligations to her children. The question is whether those obligations are outweighed, or are rendered moot, by other circumstances. We do often obligate ourselves in ways that limit our freedom. That's what a promise is. I restrict my freedom to do whatever I want by promising that I will do what I promise to do. If my promises are really "I promise to do this, provided it is what I want to do at the time" then the promise isn't a promise. Of course, there are conditions that would make it permissible to not fulfill a promise. If I promise to have lunch with you and getting there requires navigating a minefield, surely it's permissible to fail to meet that obligation. So how close is Nora's situation to that? That seems to me the (or a) relevant question.
(3) Perhaps related to that, here's a wee thought experiment. What if Torvald "got woke" and realized the unequal, oppressive nature of his marriage. He now wants a genuinely equal partnership. And let's say Nora is quite happy being a doll. She wants the marriage to remain as it is. Is it okay for Torvald to just leave her and the children? Do we have the same reactions to that as to Nora leaving? Obviously the circumstances are different for them, but maybe thinking about the Bizarro World version of the play is a way to clarify exactly what the differences are that are supposed to make a difference.
(4) On marriage generally, it seems to me important to not discount more traditional marriages. My parents have been married for over 40 years. My mom got married five days after she graduated high school. She never went to college. She had and raised two children, and has only worked for brief periods of time. I don't think she's oppressed, or suffers from false consciousness, or is a victim of the patriarchy. She is living the life she chose, and I don't think she'd trade it. My dad is living the life he chose, and they are both living the life they chose and have continually chosen for 40+ years. It's not the life I chose, which is as it should be. We should be able to make our own choices, including choices about the kinds of relationships we're going to have. But advocating for more options and choices doesn't have to mean discounting one of those choices. If a woman wants most of all to be a mother and to stay at home and raise her children, why is that bad, exactly? It seems to infantilize such women to tell them that that is not what they really want, and that they should want something else.
(5) On a broader note, related to (4), it seems to me important to at least acknowledge the value of tradition. We shouldn't be bound by it, and we should fight injustices. But we also shouldn't avoid things just because they are traditional, or are the way things have always been. A lot of things look stupid and unjustified if you push on them. Is there any rational defense of Santa Claus? I don't know of one, but that doesn't mean participating in that particular tradition has no value. Of course, it doesn't mean you have to participate in it. But there is some value in it, and that value is largely, I think, tied to it being a cultural tradition. Similarly, I think we should at least acknowledge the importance of traditional institutions. Maybe some need to be changed, or overthrown entirely. But that should be done cautiously. We should recognize the limits of our own reasoning and our own fallibility. It can be dangerous to substitute the theory of the day for hundreds or thousands of years of tradition. Again, that doesn't mean we should never do that, or we should elevate tradition above anything else. We shouldn't. But it's not nothing, and it's not without value.
Okay, thus concludes my semi-random, gadfly-ish thoughts from the back of the room. Fire away.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Faith, reason, religion
So I'm sitting in on Pat Cronin's "Artistic Experience" class (which, btw, is pretty awesome.) It's been really great to just sit in the back and experience the course--to hear the students, to see their reactions, and to just soak it all in. But I also feel a bit like a free-rider, since my contributions are minimal to non-existent. Rather than take up class time with my two cents, I'm going to post here.
The discussion on Tuesday centered on faith, reason, and religion. While I have a lot to say about such things (and do say a lot about them when I teach Philosophy as Conversation), I also feel like a bit of an outsider to the conversations. I'm not a religious person. This is not a matter of losing my faith at some point. I never had any faith to lose. My parents were nominally Christian, but we didn't even make it to church on Easter. So despite growing up in Alabama, I managed to have a childhood in which religion was almost entirely absent.
At some point, religion became a kind of fun intellectual exercise. I can argue with walls all day long, though I discovered in high school that arguing with Christians was more fun. In hindsight, it was all largely a game for me. I was interested in the arguments and the way they worked, and not so much in what possibly hung in the balance. I can't say I'm proud of that, though it was mildly satisfying to stump the Young Life leaders who always seemed to make their way to my lunch table. All good people, though, and I probably should've been more respectful.
In college, the intellectual game continued as I majored in philosophy. The department was full of pretty typical atheist philosophers. Religious belief wasn't scorned, necessarily, but atheism seemed to have an air of superiority. My more immature self latched onto this.
Then in graduate school I was in a less typical philosophy department in which a lot of the philosophers were Christian. It turns out there was a whole world of Christian philosophers that I had largely ignored. And they are good philosophers. They're smart, serious, rigorous, etc. That's when I realized this was all much more complicated than I had ever appreciated. That's where I am now. It's complicated. In good Socratic fashion, I embrace my ignorance. I know that I don't know (though I'm still inclined to think that in the absence of evidence, atheism is the more reasonable position, so despite the agnostic undertones, I'd likely identify as atheist, maybe a doubting atheist.)
With needless throat-clearing out of the way, I was interested in some of the discussion about faith in particular. Pat seems to be drawn to Kierkegaard's view of faith--that faith involves embracing the absurd. 3 is 1, 1 is 3. That's absurd. Believe it anyway. That's faith. Meh. Perhaps this is just my brain, but I'm not sure it's even possible to do that. And even if it's possible, I can't see how it's advisable. So if faith boils down to that, I'm probably never going to have it.
In part, I doubt that the seeming absurdities are as absurd as they seem. Trenton Merricks, for example, argues that split-brain cases give us a model of how to view two spheres of consciousness in one body. Maybe, as he suggests, we can extrapolate from that and make sense of the Godhead. I don't know, but he's not crazy (well, not in that particular way.) And so on for other religious beliefs. There are at least plausible sounding arguments for a lot of things that, on their face, look absurd.
So maybe we can beat down the absurdity some. Still I suspect that reason isn't going to get us all the way there (though I have moments where I think Plantinga's ontological argument might get us there.) If reason won't get us there, what then? I have a hard time believing things that I don't have good reason to believe. Actually, I probably do this all the time, but I have hard time thinking I should do this. When I find unsupported beliefs, I think I ought to find support or withhold assent. That's what reason seems to demand. And faith seems to suggest we do the opposite. Believe anyway, even if reason falls short of getting you to that conclusion. I'm not sure I like that.
But what if faith isn't a species of belief? What if you could have faith without believing in God? I kind of like the sound of that. This is what Howard-Snyder argues for here. I think about my attitude towards Auburn football, which is probably the closest thing to religion I have (I'm pretty sure it would take at least seven years of therapy for me to get past my indoctrination.) I am going to the LSU game this weekend. I don't believe Auburn will win. I don't have any good reason to believe that. They've looked terrible for the better part of two years, and for two-thirds of the games so far this season. So I don't believe they'll win. By the time the game rolls around, though, I'm pretty sure I'll have faith that they'll win. I'll be excited walking into the stadium. I'll cheer. I'll be hopeful. I'll act as if Auburn has a real chance to win, even though I don't believe they do. I think this might qualify as faith, and that's a faith I can get on board with. It's a faith that allows doubt, and allows us to withhold belief when reason doesn't get us there. I don't know if that works, and I haven't thought about the arguments in any great detail, but I like the idea. It seems to me an improvement over faith being tied to believing things you don't have reason to believe.
In an ideal world, I would somehow tie all of this to the plays we read. Alas, this world is not ideal. I do think these things are important and worth thinking about. I no longer feel (or I try not to feel) any smugness about my lack of belief. Religious belief and faith are clearly important aspects of the human experience, and they are ones I have largely missed out on. In my more humble moments, I regret that. I think doubt is also part of being human. And struggling with those two things are as well. At the moment, I think I have faith that we can somehow figure all of this out. I at least act as if that is true.
The discussion on Tuesday centered on faith, reason, and religion. While I have a lot to say about such things (and do say a lot about them when I teach Philosophy as Conversation), I also feel like a bit of an outsider to the conversations. I'm not a religious person. This is not a matter of losing my faith at some point. I never had any faith to lose. My parents were nominally Christian, but we didn't even make it to church on Easter. So despite growing up in Alabama, I managed to have a childhood in which religion was almost entirely absent.
At some point, religion became a kind of fun intellectual exercise. I can argue with walls all day long, though I discovered in high school that arguing with Christians was more fun. In hindsight, it was all largely a game for me. I was interested in the arguments and the way they worked, and not so much in what possibly hung in the balance. I can't say I'm proud of that, though it was mildly satisfying to stump the Young Life leaders who always seemed to make their way to my lunch table. All good people, though, and I probably should've been more respectful.
In college, the intellectual game continued as I majored in philosophy. The department was full of pretty typical atheist philosophers. Religious belief wasn't scorned, necessarily, but atheism seemed to have an air of superiority. My more immature self latched onto this.
Then in graduate school I was in a less typical philosophy department in which a lot of the philosophers were Christian. It turns out there was a whole world of Christian philosophers that I had largely ignored. And they are good philosophers. They're smart, serious, rigorous, etc. That's when I realized this was all much more complicated than I had ever appreciated. That's where I am now. It's complicated. In good Socratic fashion, I embrace my ignorance. I know that I don't know (though I'm still inclined to think that in the absence of evidence, atheism is the more reasonable position, so despite the agnostic undertones, I'd likely identify as atheist, maybe a doubting atheist.)
With needless throat-clearing out of the way, I was interested in some of the discussion about faith in particular. Pat seems to be drawn to Kierkegaard's view of faith--that faith involves embracing the absurd. 3 is 1, 1 is 3. That's absurd. Believe it anyway. That's faith. Meh. Perhaps this is just my brain, but I'm not sure it's even possible to do that. And even if it's possible, I can't see how it's advisable. So if faith boils down to that, I'm probably never going to have it.
In part, I doubt that the seeming absurdities are as absurd as they seem. Trenton Merricks, for example, argues that split-brain cases give us a model of how to view two spheres of consciousness in one body. Maybe, as he suggests, we can extrapolate from that and make sense of the Godhead. I don't know, but he's not crazy (well, not in that particular way.) And so on for other religious beliefs. There are at least plausible sounding arguments for a lot of things that, on their face, look absurd.
So maybe we can beat down the absurdity some. Still I suspect that reason isn't going to get us all the way there (though I have moments where I think Plantinga's ontological argument might get us there.) If reason won't get us there, what then? I have a hard time believing things that I don't have good reason to believe. Actually, I probably do this all the time, but I have hard time thinking I should do this. When I find unsupported beliefs, I think I ought to find support or withhold assent. That's what reason seems to demand. And faith seems to suggest we do the opposite. Believe anyway, even if reason falls short of getting you to that conclusion. I'm not sure I like that.
But what if faith isn't a species of belief? What if you could have faith without believing in God? I kind of like the sound of that. This is what Howard-Snyder argues for here. I think about my attitude towards Auburn football, which is probably the closest thing to religion I have (I'm pretty sure it would take at least seven years of therapy for me to get past my indoctrination.) I am going to the LSU game this weekend. I don't believe Auburn will win. I don't have any good reason to believe that. They've looked terrible for the better part of two years, and for two-thirds of the games so far this season. So I don't believe they'll win. By the time the game rolls around, though, I'm pretty sure I'll have faith that they'll win. I'll be excited walking into the stadium. I'll cheer. I'll be hopeful. I'll act as if Auburn has a real chance to win, even though I don't believe they do. I think this might qualify as faith, and that's a faith I can get on board with. It's a faith that allows doubt, and allows us to withhold belief when reason doesn't get us there. I don't know if that works, and I haven't thought about the arguments in any great detail, but I like the idea. It seems to me an improvement over faith being tied to believing things you don't have reason to believe.
In an ideal world, I would somehow tie all of this to the plays we read. Alas, this world is not ideal. I do think these things are important and worth thinking about. I no longer feel (or I try not to feel) any smugness about my lack of belief. Religious belief and faith are clearly important aspects of the human experience, and they are ones I have largely missed out on. In my more humble moments, I regret that. I think doubt is also part of being human. And struggling with those two things are as well. At the moment, I think I have faith that we can somehow figure all of this out. I at least act as if that is true.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Podcasting for poor, impatient beginners
When I had the idea to do a podcast for Collo, it seemed like it would be simple enough to execute. It turns out that podcasting is more complicated than I thought, and the advice that is out there is not always helpful. I'm not sure if this will be any more helpful, but here is a rundown of how I produced the first Collo podcast.
***Disclaimer***
If you download soundboard shows of your favorite artists in lossless formats, or only listen to music on 180 gram vinyl, this information is not for you.
Equipment
I thought I had struck gold with the equipment. The Honors College has two nice Shure XLR mics and a FireStudio audio interface. By all accounts, this should be fairly decent equipment with which to start a podcast. This first take with this equipment was, um, bad. Because the interface required a firewire connection, I was limited in where I could record. I think this was the biggest problem. The room was far less than ideal. It was open, had hardwood floors, and an angled ceiling. The mics just didn't generate good quality on the voices.
On take two, I used a Logitech video conferencing webcam. Most advice out there says to stay away from USB mics. In my case, this mic produced a much better sound than the original setup, and I was able to record multiple people with one mic. So this gets high marks for simplicity. The sound is not particularly good, but it is serviceable. It really was just plug and record.
I also had access to a a Blue Snowball Mic. I would say this produced the best sound of the mics and setups I tried. It is also USB and really easy to use. If you're doing a one-person podcast, I'd recommend this. It's ambient setting does not do a good job of picking up multiple voices.
My takeaway is that recording a podcast with multiple hosts or guests makes things more complicated. The original setup with two mics and audio interface seems like it should be the best, but other factors made this more complicated and, at least right now, not viable. The Logitech mic ended up being the easiest way to get decent sound with multiple people.
Software
On take one, I used Adobe Audition. In theory this should be a step up from free software that is out there. In reality, it was not. I thought the interface was unintuitive and it has a lot more bells and whistles than I needed. On take two, I used the free recording software Audacity. I don't have any complaints. It was easy to use and had all the tools I needed. And it's free.
Post Production
The Logitech mic required more post-production tweaking. The main problem was the different volume of the two voices. I mainly used the compressor effect to even this out. The results were pretty good. I used the normalization effect to eliminate clipping. Again, the results were pretty good. I also used audacity to create the intro, which is a combination of effects and creative commons licensed music. Overall, Audacity was straightforward, intuitive, and did what I needed it to do.
Overall
For the cost of a decent USB mic, you can produce a non-terrible sounding (IYAM) podcast. This is not up to the standards of the professionals, but you also don't need a course in audio engineering to produce it, and you don't have to invest a small fortune to make it happen. The biggest challenge was figuring out how to record multiple voices into Audacity. My simple solution was the Logitech mic. In more ideal conditions, I think the Shure mics with the audio interface would be the way to go. In less ideal conditions, the Logitech produced better sound.
Here is the first episode, so you can judge for yourself on the overall sound quality.
***Disclaimer***
If you download soundboard shows of your favorite artists in lossless formats, or only listen to music on 180 gram vinyl, this information is not for you.
Equipment
I thought I had struck gold with the equipment. The Honors College has two nice Shure XLR mics and a FireStudio audio interface. By all accounts, this should be fairly decent equipment with which to start a podcast. This first take with this equipment was, um, bad. Because the interface required a firewire connection, I was limited in where I could record. I think this was the biggest problem. The room was far less than ideal. It was open, had hardwood floors, and an angled ceiling. The mics just didn't generate good quality on the voices.
On take two, I used a Logitech video conferencing webcam. Most advice out there says to stay away from USB mics. In my case, this mic produced a much better sound than the original setup, and I was able to record multiple people with one mic. So this gets high marks for simplicity. The sound is not particularly good, but it is serviceable. It really was just plug and record.
I also had access to a a Blue Snowball Mic. I would say this produced the best sound of the mics and setups I tried. It is also USB and really easy to use. If you're doing a one-person podcast, I'd recommend this. It's ambient setting does not do a good job of picking up multiple voices.
My takeaway is that recording a podcast with multiple hosts or guests makes things more complicated. The original setup with two mics and audio interface seems like it should be the best, but other factors made this more complicated and, at least right now, not viable. The Logitech mic ended up being the easiest way to get decent sound with multiple people.
Software
On take one, I used Adobe Audition. In theory this should be a step up from free software that is out there. In reality, it was not. I thought the interface was unintuitive and it has a lot more bells and whistles than I needed. On take two, I used the free recording software Audacity. I don't have any complaints. It was easy to use and had all the tools I needed. And it's free.
Post Production
The Logitech mic required more post-production tweaking. The main problem was the different volume of the two voices. I mainly used the compressor effect to even this out. The results were pretty good. I used the normalization effect to eliminate clipping. Again, the results were pretty good. I also used audacity to create the intro, which is a combination of effects and creative commons licensed music. Overall, Audacity was straightforward, intuitive, and did what I needed it to do.
Overall
For the cost of a decent USB mic, you can produce a non-terrible sounding (IYAM) podcast. This is not up to the standards of the professionals, but you also don't need a course in audio engineering to produce it, and you don't have to invest a small fortune to make it happen. The biggest challenge was figuring out how to record multiple voices into Audacity. My simple solution was the Logitech mic. In more ideal conditions, I think the Shure mics with the audio interface would be the way to go. In less ideal conditions, the Logitech produced better sound.
Here is the first episode, so you can judge for yourself on the overall sound quality.
Friday, August 5, 2016
Initial thoughts on Collo 4.0...
It's Collo time again, which means it's time meta-Collo posts.
As always, Collo is a work-in-progress (or occasionally a work-in-regress.) I have a couple of broad goals in mind for this years iteration of the course.
(1) Focus class time more on freshmen and incoming Midways. The class hours are always the hardest for people to meet, and my brilliant idea of holding multiple sections each week is a logistical nightmare that has, thus far, been largely unsuccessful. So two birds, one stone. Class time will be devoted to incoming students, with a few larger sessions for everyone. The requirements for class hours will be adjusted accordingly (details forthcoming.)
(2) Emphasize and encourage more individualized contracts for returning students. These have been an option for a while, but few people take advantage of this option. I think it has been a good experience for those who have. My hope is that by having you design your own plan for what you want to do for Collo credit will help unify what you're doing. As it is, the things you do for Collo are sometimes a disjointed hodgepodge of activities, and that starts to feel more like checking a box than meaningful engagement. But if you set goals for yourself and identify things you want to do, then it should hopefully feel less like that. People in the past have used this option to work on graduate school applications, service projects, and creative projects. It need not be one single project. I think the important thing is for you to set your own goals, and then propose some concrete ways you intend to show progress towards those goals.
(3) Provide more opportunities for making connections. As our programs grow, and as Collo grows, it gets harder to provide opportunities for you to get to know others outside of your cohort or program. I think making those kinds of connections is important, and knowing what others are doing is important. This was a suggestion on a number of course evals, and I think it was an excellent suggestion. You are all doing interesting things and are interesting people. I'd like to try to provide opportunities for you to get to know others and share your own interests, activities, and accomplishments. If only someone would invent a way to do this without having to be in the same place at the same time. Maybe through a computer or phone or something. Where is Al Gore when you need him? So I'll be trying to do more online to create opportunities for this kind of connection. A podcast is in the works. A new collo webpage is in the works so we can ditch d2l once and for all. I intend to step up the Honors College's social media. The goal of all of this is to help share with others both in and outside the Honors College who you are and what you're doing.
So them there's the goals that are guiding the development of Collo 4.0. Details to follow...
As always, Collo is a work-in-progress (or occasionally a work-in-regress.) I have a couple of broad goals in mind for this years iteration of the course.
(1) Focus class time more on freshmen and incoming Midways. The class hours are always the hardest for people to meet, and my brilliant idea of holding multiple sections each week is a logistical nightmare that has, thus far, been largely unsuccessful. So two birds, one stone. Class time will be devoted to incoming students, with a few larger sessions for everyone. The requirements for class hours will be adjusted accordingly (details forthcoming.)
(2) Emphasize and encourage more individualized contracts for returning students. These have been an option for a while, but few people take advantage of this option. I think it has been a good experience for those who have. My hope is that by having you design your own plan for what you want to do for Collo credit will help unify what you're doing. As it is, the things you do for Collo are sometimes a disjointed hodgepodge of activities, and that starts to feel more like checking a box than meaningful engagement. But if you set goals for yourself and identify things you want to do, then it should hopefully feel less like that. People in the past have used this option to work on graduate school applications, service projects, and creative projects. It need not be one single project. I think the important thing is for you to set your own goals, and then propose some concrete ways you intend to show progress towards those goals.
(3) Provide more opportunities for making connections. As our programs grow, and as Collo grows, it gets harder to provide opportunities for you to get to know others outside of your cohort or program. I think making those kinds of connections is important, and knowing what others are doing is important. This was a suggestion on a number of course evals, and I think it was an excellent suggestion. You are all doing interesting things and are interesting people. I'd like to try to provide opportunities for you to get to know others and share your own interests, activities, and accomplishments. If only someone would invent a way to do this without having to be in the same place at the same time. Maybe through a computer or phone or something. Where is Al Gore when you need him? So I'll be trying to do more online to create opportunities for this kind of connection. A podcast is in the works. A new collo webpage is in the works so we can ditch d2l once and for all. I intend to step up the Honors College's social media. The goal of all of this is to help share with others both in and outside the Honors College who you are and what you're doing.
So them there's the goals that are guiding the development of Collo 4.0. Details to follow...
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Research as pinball
A followup to this post. (Recap: this is an attempt to model and chronicle the research process, from half-baked idea to more polished proposal.)
So I started with some idea about how the proliferation of learning outcomes and rubrics was in the same ballpark as replacing social norms with statutory law. That's my quarter. I put it in and started playing.
So where did the ball go? Well, the rough trajectory is something like this. I started looking at learning outcomes for a variety of courses to better understand them. That was both fascinating and disheartening. Ultimately, it left me wondering whether we have any clear idea of what a learning outcome even is.
So, I thought, wouldn't it be great if there were some group of people who were more or less exclusively focused on conceptual analysis? We could call them, I don't know, philosophers. So that's where I turned. It turns out there was a moment for analytic philosophy of education (some details here.) I turned to my friend Mr. Google and he kindly gave me this edited volume--The Concept of Educaiton, R.S. Peters, ed. published in 1967. So I'm bouncing around in this particular cluster of bumpers. I don't know how many points I'm racking up, but the ball is still in play.
In particular, there is some helpful analysis on what it means to learn something. I don't know that I have anything interesting to say about these analyses, but they seem at least potentially helpful for better understanding what a learning outcome is, and what kind of learning those outcomes tend to measure. They also seem potentially helpful for better understanding the ordinary conception of learning that went unspoken in the dark, dark days of education when we didn't spell out in exquisite detail every student learning outcome for every assignment.
There's a good chance I'll lose this particular ball at some point, or get kicked over to some other area, but this is where I am now.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Rubrics, learning outcomes, and "hidden law," part 1.
I'm going to try to articulate a half-baked germ of an idea here. There are two goals. One is that I actually do think there is something to the idea, and I'd like to keep exploring it. The other is that in my Foundations of Research class, I try to demonstrate the elements of the research process that we discuss in class. I'm not sure how successful I am at this, and it struck me this semester that I should try to chronicle the actual development of a research project. This is the beginning of that. It may crash and burn--ideas often do--but hopefully the end result will be a glimpse into the evolution of a thought from half-baked to fully-baked (or at least slightly more than half-baked.) Here goes...
I think there's an opening for a conservative (think Burke and Oakeshott) critique of learning outcomes and rubrics. (Am I a terrible candidate to mount a conservative critique of anything? Probably. Should that stop me from trying? Maybe. Will it? Doubtful.) The proliferation of learning outcomes and the explosion of ever more detailed rubrics seem to me to be similar to what Jonathan Rauch describes as the replacement of "hidden law" with statutory law. I'm not that old, yet I don't recall ever having learning outcomes spelled out on a syllabus in college, and I don't recall any rubrics. Instead, there were unwritten rules that governed the classroom and grades. (Or at least I think there were. I haven't tried to spell these out, but surely they existed, right?) These rules were, no doubt, imperfect and imperfectly enforced, but they were there.
Then, somewhere along the way, these unwritten rules started to be replaced with explicit, written policies. Our syllabi got longer. Learning outcomes were spelled out in detail. Rubrics were developed for assessment. And now here we are. My hunch is that we are not in a better place than we were before, and are probably worse off as far as actual teaching and learning goes.
My issues with rubrics and learning outcomes are not new or particularly insightful. But there isn't, or at least I haven't found, anyone who is looking at this from a conservative (small 'c') perspective. There seems to me to be something there worth exploring.
So that's the idea. Half-baked.
I think there's an opening for a conservative (think Burke and Oakeshott) critique of learning outcomes and rubrics. (Am I a terrible candidate to mount a conservative critique of anything? Probably. Should that stop me from trying? Maybe. Will it? Doubtful.) The proliferation of learning outcomes and the explosion of ever more detailed rubrics seem to me to be similar to what Jonathan Rauch describes as the replacement of "hidden law" with statutory law. I'm not that old, yet I don't recall ever having learning outcomes spelled out on a syllabus in college, and I don't recall any rubrics. Instead, there were unwritten rules that governed the classroom and grades. (Or at least I think there were. I haven't tried to spell these out, but surely they existed, right?) These rules were, no doubt, imperfect and imperfectly enforced, but they were there.
Then, somewhere along the way, these unwritten rules started to be replaced with explicit, written policies. Our syllabi got longer. Learning outcomes were spelled out in detail. Rubrics were developed for assessment. And now here we are. My hunch is that we are not in a better place than we were before, and are probably worse off as far as actual teaching and learning goes.
My issues with rubrics and learning outcomes are not new or particularly insightful. But there isn't, or at least I haven't found, anyone who is looking at this from a conservative (small 'c') perspective. There seems to me to be something there worth exploring.
So that's the idea. Half-baked.
Monday, April 4, 2016
Me as student, ch.1, Dr. VT edition
So I've finally read through all the in-house evaluations from last semester that I enticed students to complete. The enticement meant that I got three to four times as many evaluations as I normally do, which means I likely got a more representative sample. The comments suggest that structure (or lack thereof) is both the biggest strength and biggest weakness of the current version of Collo.
It was a little surprising that the deliberately unstructured nature of the course was highlighted as a weakness, but it also reminded me of one of the best (and maybe only) pieces of advice I ever received about teaching--your students aren't like you. I've been thinking about that and my own experiences as a student in an effort to better see my own biases. So this is me as a student, part one.
High school English, junior year, Dr. Von Tiesenhausen. During the first week of class, we were "taught" that every paragraph has five sentences, and our assignment was to write a paragraph that fit the structure of the model paragraph. We read these aloud in class. I wrote a three sentence paragraph about it not being true that all paragraphs had five sentences. I think it was a beautifully written paragraph. VT was not amused. I failed the assignment and he told me that 11th grade was not a good time to drop out of school. I actually agreed with this, so I dropped out of his class.
To say he was structured would be a massive understatement. Clearly I did not handle the imposition of his structure in the most constructive way, but I think the situation foreshadows my general attitude towards imposing strict guidelines on students. If I were a student, I would really like the unstructured nature of Collo and appreciate that nobody was telling me exactly what I had to do and how I had to do it. The course is not for me, though, and in looking back on my own experiences, I think I have a pretty strong reaction to structure that likely places me on the far end of the bell curve. This inclines me to think that I need to redesign the course in a way that is at least moderately at odds with how my 18-22 year old self might prefer it.
At the time, I think I was just being an obnoxious 16 year old kid. In hindsight, I like to think the more high-minded explanation is that VT was prioritizing structure over competency. If he had cared more about whether I was writing well and less about being an ass, some ugliness could have been avoided. I don't ever want the structure of the course or of an assignment to be elevated above the objective of the assignment. But there is a huge gulf between that kind of reverence for rules and a more or less complete laissez faire attitude. I think I need to work on being better at finding that middle ground.
It was a little surprising that the deliberately unstructured nature of the course was highlighted as a weakness, but it also reminded me of one of the best (and maybe only) pieces of advice I ever received about teaching--your students aren't like you. I've been thinking about that and my own experiences as a student in an effort to better see my own biases. So this is me as a student, part one.
High school English, junior year, Dr. Von Tiesenhausen. During the first week of class, we were "taught" that every paragraph has five sentences, and our assignment was to write a paragraph that fit the structure of the model paragraph. We read these aloud in class. I wrote a three sentence paragraph about it not being true that all paragraphs had five sentences. I think it was a beautifully written paragraph. VT was not amused. I failed the assignment and he told me that 11th grade was not a good time to drop out of school. I actually agreed with this, so I dropped out of his class.
To say he was structured would be a massive understatement. Clearly I did not handle the imposition of his structure in the most constructive way, but I think the situation foreshadows my general attitude towards imposing strict guidelines on students. If I were a student, I would really like the unstructured nature of Collo and appreciate that nobody was telling me exactly what I had to do and how I had to do it. The course is not for me, though, and in looking back on my own experiences, I think I have a pretty strong reaction to structure that likely places me on the far end of the bell curve. This inclines me to think that I need to redesign the course in a way that is at least moderately at odds with how my 18-22 year old self might prefer it.
At the time, I think I was just being an obnoxious 16 year old kid. In hindsight, I like to think the more high-minded explanation is that VT was prioritizing structure over competency. If he had cared more about whether I was writing well and less about being an ass, some ugliness could have been avoided. I don't ever want the structure of the course or of an assignment to be elevated above the objective of the assignment. But there is a huge gulf between that kind of reverence for rules and a more or less complete laissez faire attitude. I think I need to work on being better at finding that middle ground.
Friday, March 25, 2016
Philosophy of education minus the philosophy
I don't have much to say about this, but I like what Curran has to say in this interview:
I’m a little queasy about is the idea that there is a pragmatist approach to education. I know this is high heresy to say this [laughs], but I really see little connection between Dewey’s pragmatism and his educational thought. I know there are supposed to be obvious connections – modeling both a society and a classroom on the practices of a scientific community, to collaborate on solving problems where you have no authority figure and everyone contributes. That’s supposed to be pragmatic. But it’s only pragmatic if pragmatism is reduced to experimentalism – the doctrine that all knowledge is established experimentally. Even then pragmatism would only motivate one aspect of the educational vision. And it wouldn’t fully justify even that one aspect; neither would it be essential for justifying even that aspect. Philosophers of education who remain influenced by Dewey often invoke the idea that he destroyed the ‘quest for certainty’ and draw a sharp contrast with Plato. They think it’s just evident that if you have a non-pragmatic approach to knowledge then straightaway you’re going to have Plato’s Republic. That’s a preposterous view. If you can’t find any other basis on which to set aside Plato’s Republic, you’re not thinking hard enough.I like a lot of what Dewey has to say about education. I'm not a big fan of pragmatism, though. The same is true for me of "critical pedagogy." I don't really have much love for critical theory, but I think a lot of the actual recommendations for teaching that come out of the critical pedagogy movement are really good. In general, I wonder how essential the underlying theories are to the philosophies of education that purport to be based on them. My guess is that what Curran says about pragmatism is true of many schools of thought.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Politicians, students, and bullshit
In his now famous article "On Bullshit", Harry Frankfurt observes that "one of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much bullshit." That was in 1986. Things have not improved. For the first time, I included this essay on my syllabus for an introductory philosophy course. It was one of the first articles we read, and it generated a pretty interesting discussion. During that discussion and in subsequent essays, many students most easily connected Frankfurt's analysis of 'bullshit' to the bullshit they produce in the courses they take. This wasn't necessarily surprising, but it did cause me to think about the extent to which we encourage (or require) the production of bullshit.
I suspect the answer to this is "a lot." When I taught in a writing program, I was more or less told that our goal was to teach students how to bullshit. The techniques we taught would virtually guarantee that students could earn a "bullshitter's 'B'" on an essay. This was not presented as a negative thing. The assumption was that we all understand that a lot of student writing is bullshit, and writing courses are designed to make that bullshit well-crafted. It's easy to see why people might get the sense that it's bullshit all the way down. We prepare students to write the kind of bullshit we are later going to require them to produce to pass our courses.
Bullshit, according to Frankfurt, primarily involves a lack of interest in the truth. This distinguishes the bullshitter from the liar, who at least cares enough to try to deceive you about what is true. Politicians are generally pretty good bullshitters. They have to be. While many of them may care about the truth, they also care about getting votes. That means they care about making us believe certain things about themselves, and not just certain things about the world. One way to do that is to bullshit. Debates about "building a wall" are largely bullshit. The goal of the debate is not to engage in a sober inquiry about the merits of such a proposal. The goal is to get people to believe you are tough, or empathetic, or honest, or whatever. It's not about a wall. That's bullshit.
I worry that assessments too often encourage the same thing. Students may care about the content of the course, but they also care about their grade. That means they care not just (or maybe not at all) about pursuing an interest or a topic, but also about making those of us grading believe certain things about them. See how smart I am. See how clever. See how much work I put into this. If our assessments encourage that, they are encouraging bullshit in the Frankfurtian, technical sense. They are not about genuine engagement or inquiry. They are about giving a believable performance of a person who is engaged in genuine inquiry. Bullshit.
So how do we eliminate or minimize the amount of bullshit students produce? I don't know, though I have some ideas. I'll leave those for another time. The first step is recognizing it as a problem. When grades are determined by our assessment of required student performances--tests, essays, presentations, etc.--we are inviting students to say or do what they need to in order to get us to believe certain things about them. We're inviting them to be politicians. We're asking for bullshit. I'd like to think we can do better than that.
I suspect the answer to this is "a lot." When I taught in a writing program, I was more or less told that our goal was to teach students how to bullshit. The techniques we taught would virtually guarantee that students could earn a "bullshitter's 'B'" on an essay. This was not presented as a negative thing. The assumption was that we all understand that a lot of student writing is bullshit, and writing courses are designed to make that bullshit well-crafted. It's easy to see why people might get the sense that it's bullshit all the way down. We prepare students to write the kind of bullshit we are later going to require them to produce to pass our courses.
Bullshit, according to Frankfurt, primarily involves a lack of interest in the truth. This distinguishes the bullshitter from the liar, who at least cares enough to try to deceive you about what is true. Politicians are generally pretty good bullshitters. They have to be. While many of them may care about the truth, they also care about getting votes. That means they care about making us believe certain things about themselves, and not just certain things about the world. One way to do that is to bullshit. Debates about "building a wall" are largely bullshit. The goal of the debate is not to engage in a sober inquiry about the merits of such a proposal. The goal is to get people to believe you are tough, or empathetic, or honest, or whatever. It's not about a wall. That's bullshit.
I worry that assessments too often encourage the same thing. Students may care about the content of the course, but they also care about their grade. That means they care not just (or maybe not at all) about pursuing an interest or a topic, but also about making those of us grading believe certain things about them. See how smart I am. See how clever. See how much work I put into this. If our assessments encourage that, they are encouraging bullshit in the Frankfurtian, technical sense. They are not about genuine engagement or inquiry. They are about giving a believable performance of a person who is engaged in genuine inquiry. Bullshit.
So how do we eliminate or minimize the amount of bullshit students produce? I don't know, though I have some ideas. I'll leave those for another time. The first step is recognizing it as a problem. When grades are determined by our assessment of required student performances--tests, essays, presentations, etc.--we are inviting students to say or do what they need to in order to get us to believe certain things about them. We're inviting them to be politicians. We're asking for bullshit. I'd like to think we can do better than that.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
A Collo contract...
One complaint I hear not infrequently about Collo concerns the distribution requirement for hours. I think this is a legitimate complaint. The idea behind the requirements is to nudge you into doing a variety of things and to keep you doing something throughout the semester. I still think those are worthy goals. Overall, though, the goal of Collo is to get you to be "consciously honors," and that can be accomplished in ways other than following the prescribed distribution of hours.
So in an effort to increase flexibility, I plan to offer a contract grading option next semester (for non-freshmen). If you choose this option, you will draft a proposal for what you plan to do during the semester to earn credit for Collo. Your plan need not follow the guidelines in the syllabus, though it should accomplish the same broad goals. This might be an opportunity to engage in a more sustained project throughout the semester or to front/backload your hours if you know your schedule will be hectic at a particular time. If I accept your proposal, then you will be graded based on it and the standards you set for yourself.
More details to come, but that's the general idea.
So in an effort to increase flexibility, I plan to offer a contract grading option next semester (for non-freshmen). If you choose this option, you will draft a proposal for what you plan to do during the semester to earn credit for Collo. Your plan need not follow the guidelines in the syllabus, though it should accomplish the same broad goals. This might be an opportunity to engage in a more sustained project throughout the semester or to front/backload your hours if you know your schedule will be hectic at a particular time. If I accept your proposal, then you will be graded based on it and the standards you set for yourself.
More details to come, but that's the general idea.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
What makes a course an honors course?
I've been reading course evaluations* for all of our honors courses from the past few years. I've come across a number of comments where someone says a particular course really felt like an honors course, or was what they thought an honors course should be. I've probably come across a dozen or so such comments and it's been said about a range of courses. I have a sense of what I think an honors course should be, and I know what NCHC says an honors course should be. I would like to hear more about what you think an honors course should be.
Other than putting "honors" in the title or making it an 088 section, what is it that makes a course feel most like an honors course to you? Is it the content? Pedagogy? Something else? Or, on the negative side, what makes a course not feel like an honors course?
*It would be really great if more of you actually filled out the evaluations. I don't think any course made it to double digit responses this year. In case it isn't obvious, you completing evaluations is a necessary condition for your evaluations to contribute to decisions about courses and curriculum.
Other than putting "honors" in the title or making it an 088 section, what is it that makes a course feel most like an honors course to you? Is it the content? Pedagogy? Something else? Or, on the negative side, what makes a course not feel like an honors course?
*It would be really great if more of you actually filled out the evaluations. I don't think any course made it to double digit responses this year. In case it isn't obvious, you completing evaluations is a necessary condition for your evaluations to contribute to decisions about courses and curriculum.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Midway Collo?...
Okay, question just for you, Midways. Would you like to have your own section of Collo, at least for your first two semesters? Unlike UHS and FPAs, you don't take many classes together as a group and with Collo having 160 people and not many real class meetings, it barely counts as having a class together. If there were a separate section for first year Midways, we could perhaps do more to address your particular wants and needs, and maybe enable you to better or more easily get to know each other and maintain those connections. Feedback welcome, good, bad, or indifferent.
Monday, April 13, 2015
No credit collo?...
Anyone have thoughts on making Collo a zero credit, pass/fail course. (Or perhaps some portion of Collo, e.g., leave it as a one credit course for UHS and FPA freshmen and entering Midways.) Requirements could be adjusted accordingly, though I envision that it would run much as it does now, perhaps with fewer hours required and probably no "class" hours. Consider this an open thread to discuss the possibility. (Really would like feedback. Really doubting you'll provide it. I have hope, though.)
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Collo book club?
I hate myself for even making that the title of a post. This is approaching Oprah territory and, well...yeah. Anyway, this seems like a possible way to make Collo more Colloquial. Obviously not everyone needs to participate, but if we have a handful of people all reading the same thing, it might make for good, focused discussions both online and off. If that sounds at all appealing, you should indicate that to me in some way, and consider this an invitation to nominate a book.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Collo for freshmen
I like the idea floated a while ago of essentially dividing Collo into "Collo for freshmen" and "Collo for everyone else." If we go that route, what are some things that freshmen should be required to do? What are the things (if any) that you've done in the past in Collo that you think are useful? We'll still do the program of study, hopefully with some older people helping out the freshmen. What about the Basler challenge course? Good, bad, indifferent? Study abroad info? That seems like a good thing to hear, especially if coupled with some students who have actually studied abroad. Alcohol education? What else? The beauty here is that you're not subjecting yourselves to any of this, just the incoming class. If you were designing classes they had to attend, what would those be?
Friday, August 8, 2014
You lead the class
In a twitter discussion a while ago, someone suggested adding to Collo some classes that are taught by students. I am 100% on board with that idea. But we need to fill in the details to take it from idea to actuality. So here are some thoughts:
1. I envision this working a lot like GRGs, especially the ones that are more substantive (not that there's anything wrong with ones that are entertaining, but that's a different animal.) You would need to propose a class/session/etc. and schedule it. It could be during regular Collo hours or at some other time. Unlike GRGs of the past, this would count as class, not something over and above the normal class hours.
2. I worry that we won't have many of you volunteer to do this, so we need some incentive. What would actually get you to put in the time and effort it will take to organize and lead a class? It's a valuable experience on its own, but I wouldn't count on such intrinsic motivation. Part of this will depend on how grades end up being calculated. If they do end up being based on hours, then the hours you put into preparing for the class would all count and would lessen the hours you needed to spend doing other Collo related tasks.
3. What would the substance of these classes or GRGs be? I think they could cover a lot of territory. It might be a way for older folks to give valuable information to younger folks. It could be helpful for the program of study. It might be a way to talk about your study abroad experiences, or service projects, or getting into a particular program, or your internship, etc. You might discuss the thesis process or discuss current events. This could also be a way to teach other useful skills--changing a tire, baking a cake, making an origami rose.
4. There's really no cost to making this an option and putting it on the table, but it would be great if you actually took advantage of it. If we had a enough of these, it would be a way to offer more classes, increase options and flexibility, and get class size down. All good things. So think about it.
1. I envision this working a lot like GRGs, especially the ones that are more substantive (not that there's anything wrong with ones that are entertaining, but that's a different animal.) You would need to propose a class/session/etc. and schedule it. It could be during regular Collo hours or at some other time. Unlike GRGs of the past, this would count as class, not something over and above the normal class hours.
2. I worry that we won't have many of you volunteer to do this, so we need some incentive. What would actually get you to put in the time and effort it will take to organize and lead a class? It's a valuable experience on its own, but I wouldn't count on such intrinsic motivation. Part of this will depend on how grades end up being calculated. If they do end up being based on hours, then the hours you put into preparing for the class would all count and would lessen the hours you needed to spend doing other Collo related tasks.
3. What would the substance of these classes or GRGs be? I think they could cover a lot of territory. It might be a way for older folks to give valuable information to younger folks. It could be helpful for the program of study. It might be a way to talk about your study abroad experiences, or service projects, or getting into a particular program, or your internship, etc. You might discuss the thesis process or discuss current events. This could also be a way to teach other useful skills--changing a tire, baking a cake, making an origami rose.
4. There's really no cost to making this an option and putting it on the table, but it would be great if you actually took advantage of it. If we had a enough of these, it would be a way to offer more classes, increase options and flexibility, and get class size down. All good things. So think about it.
HC social media and newsletter
The Honors College needs more of a social media presence. In addition to any benefits it might have for current students, it is also (maybe more so) important for connecting with prospective students and alumni. This is probably something that should be spearheaded by the council, but if anyone out there has an interest in helping manage social media for us, or at least advising us old people on what we should do, let me know. Doing so would certainly get you some Collo credit.
We would also like to get the Honors College newsletter up and running again. It used to be published once a semester and then it just kind of died out. We would like to publish a smaller newsletter more frequently, perhaps monthly. Again, this will probably run through the council, but they will need help. If you are interested in and have the skills to help with the newsletter, let me know. Obviously this would count for Collo credit as well.
We would also like to get the Honors College newsletter up and running again. It used to be published once a semester and then it just kind of died out. We would like to publish a smaller newsletter more frequently, perhaps monthly. Again, this will probably run through the council, but they will need help. If you are interested in and have the skills to help with the newsletter, let me know. Obviously this would count for Collo credit as well.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Grading by the hour...
So here is an early, quick draft of what grading based on hours might look like in Collo. I welcome and encourage comments and suggestions. None of it is set in stone and it might ultimately end up on my scrap heap of bad ideas.
The benefits I see of something like this are that
(1) it provides an easy way to encourage you to do Collo related things throughout the semester
(2) it allows for a lot of flexibility
(3) it rewards doing something instead of just some finished product
(4) it allows for the same activity to be weighted differently for different individuals based on how much time and effort went into it (e.g., a program of study for someone who just changed majors and picked up a new minor vs. a program of study for someone who hasn't changed anything since the last program of study.)
(5) it makes grading as transparent as it can be and almost entirely up to you.
One concern some have had is that filling this out would itself become tedious, especially if we try to make it as hard as possible to BS your way through it. I think that's a real worry. I'm inclined to err on the side of making it easy and pain-free and just take my chances with folks trying to cheat the system. Perhaps frequent, gentle reminders that filling these out falsely is cheating would help, along with some random audits of the reports. I'm open to other ideas.
Collo grading for non-freshmen (draft)
Distribution of hours:
The benefits I see of something like this are that
(1) it provides an easy way to encourage you to do Collo related things throughout the semester
(2) it allows for a lot of flexibility
(3) it rewards doing something instead of just some finished product
(4) it allows for the same activity to be weighted differently for different individuals based on how much time and effort went into it (e.g., a program of study for someone who just changed majors and picked up a new minor vs. a program of study for someone who hasn't changed anything since the last program of study.)
(5) it makes grading as transparent as it can be and almost entirely up to you.
One concern some have had is that filling this out would itself become tedious, especially if we try to make it as hard as possible to BS your way through it. I think that's a real worry. I'm inclined to err on the side of making it easy and pain-free and just take my chances with folks trying to cheat the system. Perhaps frequent, gentle reminders that filling these out falsely is cheating would help, along with some random audits of the reports. I'm open to other ideas.
Collo grading for non-freshmen (draft)
Total hours:
A: 30
hours
A-: 27
hours
B+: 24
hours
B: 21
hours
B-: 18
hours
C: 15
hours
F:
< 15 hours
Time:
You will record your time spent on Collo related activities (what exactly
these are still needs to be spelled out in some detail) and submit them every
three weeks. You must have a minimum of three hours on each submission. Any three week period in which you have fewer
than three hours will result in a reduction in your final grade by 1/3 (from A
to A-, A- to B+, etc.). You can have a maximum of ten hours per three week period. No hours over ten will count towards the total.
Activity:
In total, you need at least five hours in class, five hours on
personal/professional/academic development and/or enrichment (some of this can
be double counted with class time), three hours of service and two hours of being
collegial. Failure to meet the minimum hours in any category will result in a
reduction in your final grade by 1/3 for each category that is short of the
minimum.
Keeping track of hours:
You’ll
keep track of what you’re doing for Collo on a simple spreadsheet with columns
for activity, date and hours. For activities in which there is something that
can be handed in, that will be required in order to count the hours. For things
that don’t have something that can be handed in, you are on your honor to
report honestly. Also, I will audit some number of these each time they are
due. For those audited, we will set up a meeting and briefly discuss what you’re doing for Collo.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
This land is your land
In part this post is just a quasi-official, on the record, symbolic passing of the torch. I really do want Collo to be yours and I really do want it to work. I remember saying when I interviewed for this position that my nightmare was for one of you to ask what the point of Collo was and for me to not have an answer. I believe one way to make it relevant, useful and less redundant is to give some power and control of the course to you. I'm happy to play the Pete Seeger role. I can strum G,C, and D and call out the verses, but you have to sing. So there's that.
The other point of the post is to say to Midways and FPAs, this class is your class too. I think it sometimes happens that UHS folks dominate these discussions (note: not a criticism, still love you all). But it's your class, too, and you may have different ideas/wants/needs for the class. Midways, you tend to be older and don't need to be treated like freshmen, but you are also new to the university and to the program, so you also don't need to be treated like you've been here for two years. You have less time together as a cohort than those in other programs. You likely have other unique needs. If there is something that you think would be helpful or beneficial for you, let me know. Same thing for FPAs. What can we do in Collo that would be beneficial to you in particular?
Part of the goal of Collo is to bring everyone from all of our programs (minus HIDs) together, but that doesn't mean we can't also tailor some things to better suit your individual and collective wants and needs. I can't do that if I don't know what those are, though.
The other point of the post is to say to Midways and FPAs, this class is your class too. I think it sometimes happens that UHS folks dominate these discussions (note: not a criticism, still love you all). But it's your class, too, and you may have different ideas/wants/needs for the class. Midways, you tend to be older and don't need to be treated like freshmen, but you are also new to the university and to the program, so you also don't need to be treated like you've been here for two years. You have less time together as a cohort than those in other programs. You likely have other unique needs. If there is something that you think would be helpful or beneficial for you, let me know. Same thing for FPAs. What can we do in Collo that would be beneficial to you in particular?
Part of the goal of Collo is to bring everyone from all of our programs (minus HIDs) together, but that doesn't mean we can't also tailor some things to better suit your individual and collective wants and needs. I can't do that if I don't know what those are, though.
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