Elevator operator/doorman Davey McQuinn (James Greene) to Molly Dodd (Blair Brown):
“Life goes on, Miss Dodd. Count on it.”That’s from The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd episode “Here’s a Bunch of Photos from an Old Album” (April 14, 1988), in which Molly’s father dies.
[Assuming there’s still a classroom to enter. Advice for college students, for “syllabus week” and beyond.]
1. Put away any devices before entering, so that you can be marked “present” — that is, fully present, ready to engage whatever will be going on. It’s a sad and dopey feeling for an instructor to find a roomful of students intent on their devices.
2. If your instructor has not arrived and the room is dark, turn on the lights. It’s a sad and dopey feeling for an instructor to find a roomful of students sitting in the dark. If an instructor is present and the room is dark, there may be a PowerPoint presentation in the offing. Uh-oh.
3. Don’t sit toward the back. It’s a sad and dopey feeling for an instructor to find a roomful of students sitting toward the back.
The only thing worse than finding a roomful of students intent on their devices is finding a roomful of students intent on their devices and sitting in the dark. And the only thing worse than finding a roomful of students intent on their devices and sitting in the dark is finding a roomful of students intent on their devices and sitting in the dark toward the back. A teacher with sufficient gumption will ask students to put away the devices and move toward the front. That teacher will also turn on the lights, and even ask that students do so in the future.
For the first time since 1961, falltime won’t mean for me the start of “school.” (Even during sabbaticals, life is governed by the academic calendar.) It feels exciting to be back in a pre-kindergarten environment. But I still think about what goes in school.
Related posts
How to answer a professor (Guest post by Stefan Hagemann) : How to be a student a professor will remember (for the right reasons) : How to e-mail a professor : New year’s resolutions : Rule 7 : Seeing professors clearly : Syllabus week
Victor Fleischer writes about “the symbiotic relationship between university endowments and the world of hedge funds and private equity funds”: “Stop Universities from Hoarding Money” (The New York Times).
As The Arthurian pointed out in a comment on a recent post, Fleischer’s observations go well with a passage from Ralph Waldo Emerson that Stefan Hagemann quoted in an earlier comment on that post:
Gowns and pecuniary foundations, though of towns of gold, can never countervail the least sentence or syllable of wit. Forget this, and our American colleges will recede in their public importance, whilst they grow richer every year.
“It’s important to stop at the right moment”: fun with punctuation in three advertisements for the Volkswagen Passat.
Related reading
All OCA punctuation posts (Pinboard)
[No. 2 though would work better with items in a series: x , y , and z .]
[Timmy (Jon Provost) and Ruth Martin (June Lockhart). And, of course, Lassie. From the Lassie episode “The Owl,” September 28, 1958. Click for a larger view.]
In a farmhouse just outside Calverton, the pencil of choice is the Dixon Ticonderoga. The ferrule gives it away. There’s also an episode in which Timmy sits at the kitchen table and writes a note with a Ticonderoga, but I can find no trace of that epsiode online.
From The Chronicle of Higher Education, an article on the use of “machine teaching”: “The hope is if we can quantify the student’s learning process, then maybe we can come up with a more efficient curriculum or lesson.”
Two observations:
This model of teaching allows for no possibility of conversation or improvisation or discovery: it is always already clear “what knowledge [the researcher] wants to impress upon the learner.” I think of the “little vessels” in the opening scene of Dickens’s Hard Times , schoolchildren waiting to be filled with facts.
This model of teaching assumes that efficiency is a desirable end. But what counts as “a more efficient curriculum or lesson”? Is it inefficient to spend a semester teaching Infinite Jest ? Is it inefficient to spend a class meeting on a single Dickinson poem? Or two or more hours looking at a single painting? What would a “more efficient” approach to such works require? What would be gained and lost in taking such an approach? And why didn’t Socrates just come out and say what he meant instead of asking all those questions? Not a very efficient philosopher.
Related posts
Models for education (Sages, guides, and improvisation)
New directions in assessment (Scanning brains to determine the effects of college)
[I twice had the pleasure of spending a semester on Infinite Jest, and I spent many a class meeting looking at single poems. But I don’t know how to spend hours looking at a single painting.]
He reminds me of the scholarly gentleman on packs of Club cigarette papers. Can you identify this actor? Take your best shot in the comments. I’ll drop hints as needed. Disclosure: I would not be able to guess correctly.
Here are links to posts with ten more mystery actors, from Naked City , Route 66 , and “the movies”: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Collect them all!
*
A hint: The actor is probably best known for his television work.
*
The answer is now in the comments, courtesy of an eagle-eyed Crow.
[One teenager to another, on a park bench. ]
“I’m a little too patty-caked out.”
Related reading
All OCA “overheard” posts (Pinboard)
My son Ben pointed me to an essay by Bertrand Russell, “Education as a Political Institution” (The Atlantic Monthly , June 1916). An excerpt:
In education, with its codes of rules emanating from a government office, with its large classes and fixed curriculum and overworked teachers, with its determination to produce a dead level of glib mediocrity, the lack of reverence for the child is all but universal. Reverence requires imagination and vital warmth; it requires most imagination in respect of those who have least actual achievement or power. The child is weak and superficially foolish; the teacher is strong, and in an everyday sense wiser than the child. The teacher without reverence, or the bureaucrat without reverence, easily despises the child for these outward inferiorities. He thinks it his duty to “mould” the child; in imagination he is the potter with the clay. And so he gives to the child some unnatural shape which hardens with age, producing strains and spiritual dissatisfactions, out of which grow cruelty and envy and the belief that others must be compelled to undergo the same distortions.“[N]ot for some outside end proposed by the state or by any other impersonal authority, but for the ends which the child’s own spirit is obscurely seeking”: a strong rejoinder to the utilitarian mantra of college-ready and workplace-ready .
The man who has reverence will not think it his duty to “mould” the young. He feels in all that lives, but especially in human beings, and most of all in children, something sacred, indefinable, unlimited, something individual and strangely precious, the growing principle of life, an embodied fragment of the dumb striving of the world. He feels an unaccountable humility in the presence of a child — a humility not easily defensible on any rational ground, and yet somehow nearer to wisdom than the easy self-confidence of many parents and teachers. He feels the outward helplessness of the child, the appeal of dependence, the responsibility of a trust. His imagination shows him what the child may become, for good or evil; how its impulses may be developed or thwarted, how its hopes must be dimmed and the life in it grow less living, how its trust will be bruised and its quick desires replaced by brooding will. All this gives him a longing to help the child in its own battle, to strengthen it and equip it, not for some outside end proposed by the state or by any other impersonal authority, but for the ends which the child’s own spirit is obscurely seeking.
My daughter Rachel passes on this observation. She knew I would like it:
Yes, ties take time to tie and sometimes get uncomfortable. However, a tie tells everyone you meet, “I respect you, my job, and myself, and I’m willing to take the time to show it.”I started wearing a tie in my last three years of teaching, for two reasons. Certain candidates for the Republican presidential nomination had appropriated the elements of my style, making it impossible for me to wear button-down shirts and jeans and sweater-vests in good conscience. And I had come to realize that my old square-end knit ties were now vintage ties and that such ties were once again being made. So I began to buy, tie, and wear. I wasn’t thinking about respect though. I was having fun.
Harry K. Wong and Rosemary T. Wong, The First Days of School: How to Be an Effective Teacher (2009).
