I spent the last hour reading an article from Rolling Stone entitled, "The Sharp, Sudden Decline of America's Middle Class." Written by Jeff Tietz, the story covers the lot of several people in Santa Barbara, California who, having once lived a reasonably comfortable existence, now live almost penniless in their cars.
It is a moving piece, and one I recommend reading. Of the article's many messages, one of the most powerful is perhaps it's indictment of Federal aid services designed to help the destitute:
"Most of the social-service systems in the United States function not to help people like Curtis and Concita Cates get back to where they were, to a point of productive stability, but simply to keep them from starving – or, more often, to merely reduce the chances that they will starve. Millions of middle-class Americans are now receiving unemployment benefits, and many find themselves compelled by the meagerness of the assistance to shun opportunity and forgo productivity in favor of a ceaseless focus on daily survival" (source).
One line in particular--"...many find themselves compelled by the meagerness of the assistance to shun opportunity and forgo productivity in favor of a ceaseless focus on daily survival," struck me as encapsulating a central issue on the matter of aid; namely, how does one help those in need without de-incentiving recipients from engaging in subsequent productive activity?
The Rolling Stone piece suggests that more aid is needed:
"When welfare applicants finally prove that they exist, and show their material worth to be nothing, they usually receive far less than they need to live on. That's what happened to Curtis and Concita Cates. The maximum amount of aid that a single adult is eligible for in Santa Barbara, they learned, is $291 per month – $200 in food stamps, $91 in cash assistance. The waiting time for Section 8 housing, if you have priority status, is six months to a year. If you belong to the vast majority who don't have priority status – if you're not elderly, disabled or a veteran with dependents – the wait is between four and eight years" (source).
At base, the reason seems to be because too little aid doesn't give recipients enough lee-way to make ends meet while they seek more productive pursuits. As quoted earlier, their focus remains on "survival" more than anything else.
Yet give too much assitance--whatever that is--and under certain circumstance remaining on aid may become more profitable than other, perhaps more productive, activities. How does one draw the line on how much to help?
I don't know the answer, but the Rolling Stone piece suggests what can happen when aid is insufficient. People can (and often do) get stuck on mere survival, and barring a major turn in fortune, remain more or less so for a while. As one person in the article remarked, "'Homelessness gets in your bloodstream...and it stays there forever.'"
This issue highlights a point we considered in an earlier post regarding the value of failure, and its role in developing a persistent, resilient character. In the earlier post, a major take-away focused on the important balance between challenge and support in using difficult circumstances to cultivate resilience; you grow as a person when you overcome a difficult circumstance, but some circumstances are simply too much without support. Proportioned just so, sufficient support can potentially do a world of good for a person in need. But there is also the possibility of too much support, for if a person never faces any challenges, they never learn how to bounce back. That was my conclusion anyway, after reading two articles which became the focus of that earlier post; you need challenge to grow, to learn how to fail and come back stronger, but some trials require proportioned assistance to give the experience its full utility. A failure that destroys does not strengthen a person anymore than a workout that kills the organism involved.
On a grand scale, striking that balance seems to be one task of Federal aid services, and it's clearly failing at times. The Rolling Stone piece shows where it comes up short, while various news-stories regarding welfare fraud and the like show where it perhaps goes too far. It's a difficult problem in no mistake, and as I said above I don't know how it can be fixed. The challenges our country (and our world) face today could break us all. Yet they could also be the challenges that bring out the best in us. The right kind of support may just make all the difference.
Happy Wednesday, friends :)
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
The irony of stiff and tired legs
A curious thing happened to me this morning, so I thought I'd share it with you.
I drove down to the local park around 9:30 this morning to take in the air and go for a run under the trees. This is a particularly enjoyable activity during the summer, since it is generally cooler under the canopy of so many poplars, pines, and other trees which make up the nearby wood, rather than "roughing it" under a typical summer blaze through a shade-less neighborhood in June.
In any case, I had hoped to go about 45 minutes for this morning's training session, but from the start things did not come off well. I felt tight for one thing, and having left the house with ample motivation to see the work-out through, I felt it seeping away through stiff legs as after about 10-minutes I quite precipitously ground to a halt. "Must not be my day," I remarked to no one in particular, snapping twigs as I walked heavy-footed along the trail. Unfortunately the weather this morning was absolutely fantastic for running, and it seemed like an awful shame not to indulge in the activity at so ripe a time.
Then all at once--for what reason I don't know--an idea stole upon me which quickly caught my fancy. A straight, 45-minute run of the traditional sort seemed out of the question sure, but what if I could break it down into shorter segments?
Having thought up the idea, I started the clock and ran (still quite stiffly) for 2:30. I hit the "split" button when I finished, and continued on at a walk. The walk lasted about five minutes, after which I hit the "split" button and ran again, this time for 3:00. I felt a little better the second time.
I repeated this exercise several more times until the clock read 45:00. While I didn't end up running the whole time, I found that by the end I felt not only loose and limber, but also in fine spirits. Far from a drudgery, the workout had been a blast. Each running section felt easier and faster than the previous one, so that by the last of them I was cruising along at a fine pace and felt no appreciable sense of fatigue.
I'm not certain exactly what I should draw from this episode, except perhaps that moments that seem low at first sometimes end well after all. Running today felt more like a joy than it has in quite a while, an experience I might not have had were it not for a pair of stiff and tired legs. Who would have thought?
In any case, happy Tuesday, friends :)
I drove down to the local park around 9:30 this morning to take in the air and go for a run under the trees. This is a particularly enjoyable activity during the summer, since it is generally cooler under the canopy of so many poplars, pines, and other trees which make up the nearby wood, rather than "roughing it" under a typical summer blaze through a shade-less neighborhood in June.
In any case, I had hoped to go about 45 minutes for this morning's training session, but from the start things did not come off well. I felt tight for one thing, and having left the house with ample motivation to see the work-out through, I felt it seeping away through stiff legs as after about 10-minutes I quite precipitously ground to a halt. "Must not be my day," I remarked to no one in particular, snapping twigs as I walked heavy-footed along the trail. Unfortunately the weather this morning was absolutely fantastic for running, and it seemed like an awful shame not to indulge in the activity at so ripe a time.
Then all at once--for what reason I don't know--an idea stole upon me which quickly caught my fancy. A straight, 45-minute run of the traditional sort seemed out of the question sure, but what if I could break it down into shorter segments?
Having thought up the idea, I started the clock and ran (still quite stiffly) for 2:30. I hit the "split" button when I finished, and continued on at a walk. The walk lasted about five minutes, after which I hit the "split" button and ran again, this time for 3:00. I felt a little better the second time.
I repeated this exercise several more times until the clock read 45:00. While I didn't end up running the whole time, I found that by the end I felt not only loose and limber, but also in fine spirits. Far from a drudgery, the workout had been a blast. Each running section felt easier and faster than the previous one, so that by the last of them I was cruising along at a fine pace and felt no appreciable sense of fatigue.
I'm not certain exactly what I should draw from this episode, except perhaps that moments that seem low at first sometimes end well after all. Running today felt more like a joy than it has in quite a while, an experience I might not have had were it not for a pair of stiff and tired legs. Who would have thought?
In any case, happy Tuesday, friends :)
Friday, June 22, 2012
On looking and seeing
For no particular reason, while walking yesterday I decided to see if I could name all the streets in the neighborhood before I reached them on one of my usual routes. To my surprise, while I have walked that course on hundreds (if not thousands) of occasions over the years, I could not name every street on it without inspecting the sign at the corner first.
I think this surprised me because I've looked at those signs on numerous occasions, but not in such a way that it's name lodged itself in my memory. How could that be?
This leads me to an idea I've thought about since; that there seems to be a difference between looking at something and really "seeing" it. I look at street signs all the time, or cars which pass me on the route, or people who happen to be outside or walking as I pass. Yet how often do I actually "see" these signs, cars, and people? To the extent that I remember them, it would seem only a fraction of the time.
There are, I think, pluses and minuses to this approach. On the one hand, just looking at things allows one to note their presence while remaining focused on the big picture; one notices cars that drive by for instance, but only to the extent that they don't jump the curve and attack (so to speak). On the other hand, only looking at something could greatly reduce the chance one will learn something of more-lasting value from the object in question. So for example, if I look at a person in passing but note nothing of their appearance, I would probably not recognize them were they to appear again.
I suppose the point of this minor observation rests on the assumption that passive looking does not ensure seeing; seeing requires effort, consciously applied in a way that looking does not. Humans are always "looking" at the world, taking in feedback from all sources about the environment, but how often do we actually "see" the things which daily cross our path? To what extent do we rely on passive observation and mental short-cuts to get through the day? I think it's probably more often--and to a far greater extent--than we realize, which is okay in and of itself since we seem to be constituted to work in this fashion. But making an effort to "see" what's going on around us may yield some interesting results.
Happy Friday, friends :)
I think this surprised me because I've looked at those signs on numerous occasions, but not in such a way that it's name lodged itself in my memory. How could that be?
This leads me to an idea I've thought about since; that there seems to be a difference between looking at something and really "seeing" it. I look at street signs all the time, or cars which pass me on the route, or people who happen to be outside or walking as I pass. Yet how often do I actually "see" these signs, cars, and people? To the extent that I remember them, it would seem only a fraction of the time.
There are, I think, pluses and minuses to this approach. On the one hand, just looking at things allows one to note their presence while remaining focused on the big picture; one notices cars that drive by for instance, but only to the extent that they don't jump the curve and attack (so to speak). On the other hand, only looking at something could greatly reduce the chance one will learn something of more-lasting value from the object in question. So for example, if I look at a person in passing but note nothing of their appearance, I would probably not recognize them were they to appear again.
I suppose the point of this minor observation rests on the assumption that passive looking does not ensure seeing; seeing requires effort, consciously applied in a way that looking does not. Humans are always "looking" at the world, taking in feedback from all sources about the environment, but how often do we actually "see" the things which daily cross our path? To what extent do we rely on passive observation and mental short-cuts to get through the day? I think it's probably more often--and to a far greater extent--than we realize, which is okay in and of itself since we seem to be constituted to work in this fashion. But making an effort to "see" what's going on around us may yield some interesting results.
Happy Friday, friends :)
Thursday, June 21, 2012
"Life and Trails"
A few weeks ago I penned a brief reflection, and thought I would share it here. It goes something like this:
"31 May, 2012: I ran in the woods this morning, and found the experience both enjoyable and exciting. Like all training surfaces trails have their challenges, of which some they share with other surfaces, and some which are unique to itself. I especially enjoy running on trails (well usually anyway) because it is often the case that the challenge is less about running fast, so much as making the most of each footfall on the undulating surface.
In some ways perhaps that makes trail-running analogous to daily life, in that we are each of us faced with choices everyday of how best to use the resources and opportunities at hand. At times we make comparatively "good" choices, and find ourselves zipping along a techincally-gruelling course. At others we make poor choices, misjudge the terrain, or indeed just get plain unlucky, and find ourselves flat on our faces and skinned at the knees. In the worse case scenario (perhaps) we find ourselves falling over a cliff. I personally don't run near cliffs, but if I did then falling over the edge of one would almost certainly be a bad day.
I suppose the point is that in living as in trail-running, we have a fairly limited control over some things, and over others no control at all. Perhaps the matter over which we have the most control involve the choices we make in allocating scarce resources as they become available. I say "scarce" only to indicate that these resources are finite, and that using one naturally precludes us using the same quantity of another. For this reason it would seem we must choose how best to utilize what we've got, given the "trail" on which we're running.
Today's trail was pretty fast, but on others I've run in the past I could only manage a slow, albeit hoppity, trot. I find it easier and more enjoyable if I take whatever the course has to offer, and make it something special in my own mind. Perhaps life is like that too."
Entitled "Life and Trails," reading it this morning made me want to go for another trail- run this instant. O would I were it not already 90 degrees F. In any case, I enjoyed the reflection, and perhaps you will too.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
"31 May, 2012: I ran in the woods this morning, and found the experience both enjoyable and exciting. Like all training surfaces trails have their challenges, of which some they share with other surfaces, and some which are unique to itself. I especially enjoy running on trails (well usually anyway) because it is often the case that the challenge is less about running fast, so much as making the most of each footfall on the undulating surface.
In some ways perhaps that makes trail-running analogous to daily life, in that we are each of us faced with choices everyday of how best to use the resources and opportunities at hand. At times we make comparatively "good" choices, and find ourselves zipping along a techincally-gruelling course. At others we make poor choices, misjudge the terrain, or indeed just get plain unlucky, and find ourselves flat on our faces and skinned at the knees. In the worse case scenario (perhaps) we find ourselves falling over a cliff. I personally don't run near cliffs, but if I did then falling over the edge of one would almost certainly be a bad day.
I suppose the point is that in living as in trail-running, we have a fairly limited control over some things, and over others no control at all. Perhaps the matter over which we have the most control involve the choices we make in allocating scarce resources as they become available. I say "scarce" only to indicate that these resources are finite, and that using one naturally precludes us using the same quantity of another. For this reason it would seem we must choose how best to utilize what we've got, given the "trail" on which we're running.
Today's trail was pretty fast, but on others I've run in the past I could only manage a slow, albeit hoppity, trot. I find it easier and more enjoyable if I take whatever the course has to offer, and make it something special in my own mind. Perhaps life is like that too."
Entitled "Life and Trails," reading it this morning made me want to go for another trail- run this instant. O would I were it not already 90 degrees F. In any case, I enjoyed the reflection, and perhaps you will too.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
A reflection on "Should we stop telling our kids that they're special?"
I came across a piece by Erika Christakis on Time magazine's website today, entitled, "Should we stop telling our kids that they're special?" In it, Ms. Christakis discusses Mr. David McCollough's recent "you're-not-special, you're-not-exceptional," speech that's lately been in the news. Actually I only heard about the speech yesterday, and thought nothing exceptional about it (no pun intended). With all the talk of unemployed or underemployed college graduates, a world-economy consistently on the brink of disaster, and PhD's living on welfare, it seems plain enough that titles of "exceptional" or "special" do a poor job of describing the situation for many young folks today. Our's is a difficult time, and few have proven "special" enough to avoid feeling some pains.
With that said, I think Ms. Christakis makes a fair point in saying, "It's easy to see the downside of our national cult of self-esteem. But being 'special' has enabled many kids to be their best." The latter point is worth emphasizing, because as we discussed in an earlier post, the cultivation of positive emotions (outside any changes in curriculum) has been shown to improve academic performance. On the other side of things, in another post we discussed a study in which athletics coaches who emphasized results over personal development were more likely to create "ego climates" in which athletes became ego-centric and exhibited a number of "negative developmental outcomes such as negative peer influences and inappropriate adult behavior."
In both cases, an approach emphasizing personal development and growth not only improved performance, but also reduced the incidence of ego-centric behavior, both in the short and long-term. It would seem that influences which positively affect self-esteem tend to lead not to narcissism and so-called "me-generations," but to more favorable performance and developmental outcomes. It's not a sure thing of course, but blatantly telling a person they "aren't special" seems to do little good toward those ends.
It's no doubt a difficult problem, striking a balance between supporting a person and challenging them too. As in cooking, however, too much of either can spoil the soup.
Happy Tuesday, friends :)
With that said, I think Ms. Christakis makes a fair point in saying, "It's easy to see the downside of our national cult of self-esteem. But being 'special' has enabled many kids to be their best." The latter point is worth emphasizing, because as we discussed in an earlier post, the cultivation of positive emotions (outside any changes in curriculum) has been shown to improve academic performance. On the other side of things, in another post we discussed a study in which athletics coaches who emphasized results over personal development were more likely to create "ego climates" in which athletes became ego-centric and exhibited a number of "negative developmental outcomes such as negative peer influences and inappropriate adult behavior."
In both cases, an approach emphasizing personal development and growth not only improved performance, but also reduced the incidence of ego-centric behavior, both in the short and long-term. It would seem that influences which positively affect self-esteem tend to lead not to narcissism and so-called "me-generations," but to more favorable performance and developmental outcomes. It's not a sure thing of course, but blatantly telling a person they "aren't special" seems to do little good toward those ends.
It's no doubt a difficult problem, striking a balance between supporting a person and challenging them too. As in cooking, however, too much of either can spoil the soup.
Happy Tuesday, friends :)
Sunday, June 10, 2012
A reflection on George Will's column "Subprime College Educations"
I came across a column this morning in The Washington Post by George Will entitled, "Subprime College Educations." In it he argues that a university education is fast becoming a new economic bubble, replacing the sub-prime mortgage crisis that contributed to the 2008 recession. As Mr. Will is quick to point out, the basic argument he makes is not new, having such advocates as Glenn Reynolds and Peter Thiel. In sum, Mr. Will concludes that "college costs rise while quality declines."
I agree that college costs are rising, but I am less certain of a decline in quality. The opening salvo of Mr. Will's argument paints a picture of the modern college education as primarily a status-making experience with diminishing demands on participants' time. He cites the same data we discussed in an earlier post involving study time, in which average study time for college students seems to have declined from 24 hours a week in the 1960s to 15 hours a week today. As stated in the earlier post, one should probably be careful when making conclusions regarding this number. For instance, a wide variation appears to exist between different institutions, as well as different majors; on average, architects tend to study more than history majors. There is also the matter of full-time workers taking on full-time studies in an environment where upward economic mobility requires higher-education, but in which higher-education requires considerable economic activity to fund. There is also the matter of technology, and the way it alters--in positive and negative ways--the manner in which students today go about studying, researching, and finishing assignments. This isn't a point I considered in the previous post, but one that probably warrants discussion someday.
At any rate, while I can see why Mr. Will and others look at college today as somehow declining in "quality," there are reasons to believe the data he cites (albeit, in a limited fashion due to the medium in which he's writing) does not necessarily support his conclusions. It's not to say his points are wrong, only that the issue is probably more complicated.
Mr. Will goes on to discuss what I think is a more relevant issue of declining value in higher education, which centers on the matter of unsupportable student-loan debt. In strictly dollar terms, taking on a big loan to finance an education makes sense if the returns on that education can pay the loan back. One might argue that an expensive education which profoundly changes one's life, but yields no additional economic benefit, is still worth the cost; a matter of personal valuation. That is, unless the profoundly-changed-but-heavily-indebted student defaults on their student loan. Alone this is a relatively small manner between an individual debtor and his or her creditors. Multiply the scenario by a sufficient number of cases however--or so the argument goes--and such defaults lead to a freeze in credit, stymied investment, slowing economic growth, and reduced employment. What was once a matter of personal valuation thereby becomes a matter of significance to us all. These are the types of scenarios both Mr. Will and I wish to avoid.
This is because of a dilemma I have yet to resolve to my satisfaction; namely, how does one maintain a free society when the bad or unlucky choices of some--given an unfavorable convergence of events--lead to pain for everyone? If we are free to act as we see best according to our circumstances, are we also free to act in a manner that could turn out well but also badly, both for ourselves and others? It is a difficult question, particularly given the increasing degree to which our individual well-being is, for better or worse, linked with others. How do we protect a person's liberty to make choices for themselves while protecting against the possibility of too many choices going badly?
These are questions for which I have no answers, but which come to mind when considering the matter of student loan-debt as an economic bubble. Whether we assess the issue as a bubble or not, it seems likely that we stand to benefit by reducing the amount of debt students currently hold, and are likely to hold for education in the future.
Some people argue that the government should accomplish this by forgiving student loan debt. While I think certain individuals would be far happier (and far more productive) citizens if they did not have a mountain of debt to repay, the cost-benefit analysis of such a move would probably be quite complicated. Furthermore, doing so does not assure less debt years from now, as the underlying incentives would remain basically unchanged. Rescuing a drowning swimmer is a noble act, but does comparatively little good if the rescued person does not learn from the experience. It's hard to assume everyone, once rescued, will avoid the maelstroms which ensnared them in the first place.
Another solution, which I favor a bit more, is developing what Peter Thiel calls a "counter-narrative" to the idea that college is the only way to make it in the world today. I wrote about Mr. Thiel's idea in a post late last year. Fed up with an increasingly-popular message that everyone needs to go to college to make something of themselves, Mr. Thiel, a co-founder of PayPal, launched the "20-under 20" program in 2011, giving competitive grants of $100,000 over two years to twenty 20 year-olds who showed promise by developing a good business plan, and agreeing to drop out of college to implement it.
It's a controversial program, but it points in what I believe to be a favorable direction. The college experience, so far as I can tell, is highly variable. For some it is precisely what they need, both in terms of experience as well as learning, while for others it simply isn't. The same can probably be said for any educational experience, except that in the case of college the matter is more of a choice than say high school. At least it's suppose to be more of a choice. Yet over the last several decades everything, from job prospects to experiences for personal growth seem to point toward going to college. It is in opposition to this narrative that Mr. Thiel strives. College is helpful for many people, but well-understood alternatives may also be helpful.
The cost of going to college today is indeed high, but so is the cost of not going; we "pay" a lot in either case. Student loan-debt is a tricky subject, and makes calculating the "value" of a college education more difficult. I personally found my college experience to be highly transformative, but have yet to reap significant economic benefit from it. It was and remains very useful to me, whatever anyone else may say. Yet perhaps we should be cautious when encouraging people to partake in higher education no matter the cost. Higher education, like exercise, typically has great benefit; both, however, can be overdone. Maybe.
Happy Sunday, friends :)
I agree that college costs are rising, but I am less certain of a decline in quality. The opening salvo of Mr. Will's argument paints a picture of the modern college education as primarily a status-making experience with diminishing demands on participants' time. He cites the same data we discussed in an earlier post involving study time, in which average study time for college students seems to have declined from 24 hours a week in the 1960s to 15 hours a week today. As stated in the earlier post, one should probably be careful when making conclusions regarding this number. For instance, a wide variation appears to exist between different institutions, as well as different majors; on average, architects tend to study more than history majors. There is also the matter of full-time workers taking on full-time studies in an environment where upward economic mobility requires higher-education, but in which higher-education requires considerable economic activity to fund. There is also the matter of technology, and the way it alters--in positive and negative ways--the manner in which students today go about studying, researching, and finishing assignments. This isn't a point I considered in the previous post, but one that probably warrants discussion someday.
At any rate, while I can see why Mr. Will and others look at college today as somehow declining in "quality," there are reasons to believe the data he cites (albeit, in a limited fashion due to the medium in which he's writing) does not necessarily support his conclusions. It's not to say his points are wrong, only that the issue is probably more complicated.
Mr. Will goes on to discuss what I think is a more relevant issue of declining value in higher education, which centers on the matter of unsupportable student-loan debt. In strictly dollar terms, taking on a big loan to finance an education makes sense if the returns on that education can pay the loan back. One might argue that an expensive education which profoundly changes one's life, but yields no additional economic benefit, is still worth the cost; a matter of personal valuation. That is, unless the profoundly-changed-but-heavily-indebted student defaults on their student loan. Alone this is a relatively small manner between an individual debtor and his or her creditors. Multiply the scenario by a sufficient number of cases however--or so the argument goes--and such defaults lead to a freeze in credit, stymied investment, slowing economic growth, and reduced employment. What was once a matter of personal valuation thereby becomes a matter of significance to us all. These are the types of scenarios both Mr. Will and I wish to avoid.
This is because of a dilemma I have yet to resolve to my satisfaction; namely, how does one maintain a free society when the bad or unlucky choices of some--given an unfavorable convergence of events--lead to pain for everyone? If we are free to act as we see best according to our circumstances, are we also free to act in a manner that could turn out well but also badly, both for ourselves and others? It is a difficult question, particularly given the increasing degree to which our individual well-being is, for better or worse, linked with others. How do we protect a person's liberty to make choices for themselves while protecting against the possibility of too many choices going badly?
These are questions for which I have no answers, but which come to mind when considering the matter of student loan-debt as an economic bubble. Whether we assess the issue as a bubble or not, it seems likely that we stand to benefit by reducing the amount of debt students currently hold, and are likely to hold for education in the future.
Some people argue that the government should accomplish this by forgiving student loan debt. While I think certain individuals would be far happier (and far more productive) citizens if they did not have a mountain of debt to repay, the cost-benefit analysis of such a move would probably be quite complicated. Furthermore, doing so does not assure less debt years from now, as the underlying incentives would remain basically unchanged. Rescuing a drowning swimmer is a noble act, but does comparatively little good if the rescued person does not learn from the experience. It's hard to assume everyone, once rescued, will avoid the maelstroms which ensnared them in the first place.
Another solution, which I favor a bit more, is developing what Peter Thiel calls a "counter-narrative" to the idea that college is the only way to make it in the world today. I wrote about Mr. Thiel's idea in a post late last year. Fed up with an increasingly-popular message that everyone needs to go to college to make something of themselves, Mr. Thiel, a co-founder of PayPal, launched the "20-under 20" program in 2011, giving competitive grants of $100,000 over two years to twenty 20 year-olds who showed promise by developing a good business plan, and agreeing to drop out of college to implement it.
It's a controversial program, but it points in what I believe to be a favorable direction. The college experience, so far as I can tell, is highly variable. For some it is precisely what they need, both in terms of experience as well as learning, while for others it simply isn't. The same can probably be said for any educational experience, except that in the case of college the matter is more of a choice than say high school. At least it's suppose to be more of a choice. Yet over the last several decades everything, from job prospects to experiences for personal growth seem to point toward going to college. It is in opposition to this narrative that Mr. Thiel strives. College is helpful for many people, but well-understood alternatives may also be helpful.
The cost of going to college today is indeed high, but so is the cost of not going; we "pay" a lot in either case. Student loan-debt is a tricky subject, and makes calculating the "value" of a college education more difficult. I personally found my college experience to be highly transformative, but have yet to reap significant economic benefit from it. It was and remains very useful to me, whatever anyone else may say. Yet perhaps we should be cautious when encouraging people to partake in higher education no matter the cost. Higher education, like exercise, typically has great benefit; both, however, can be overdone. Maybe.
Happy Sunday, friends :)
Thursday, June 7, 2012
On fortune
I sometimes wonder if we think we have greater control over events in our lives than is actually the case. Are our triumphs entirely the result of our skill? Are our tragedies entirely the result of our mistakes? I'm beginning to think that neither is wholly true; that on some level our successes and failures are the result of factors not fully within our control.
This can be disconcerting, but a healthy appreciation of "luck" or "fortune" is perhaps warranted. Sometimes the chips fall in one's favor, and sometimes they don't. It is natural but perhaps inaccurate when the outcome is favorable to attribute the success entirely to one's ability. We may flatter ourselves, in some cases things might have turned out differently.
Consider the following example. My last cross country race as a university student turned out to be my fastest as well. I ran 28:45 for 8km, eclipsing my old record by almost 10 seconds. At first I attributed the success to good execution of a race plan, as well as a solid peak. Further thought compelled me to realize the import of other factors that day. Chief among these was the weather, which that day was sunny, chilly, and quite dry. Coupled with the well-tended course and a positive attitude, the moment seemed ripe for a new personal record. Had the weather proved exceptionally hot or rainy, the outcome might have proved otherwise. As it was, the success of that race seems to have been due not only to good preparation and execution, but also favorable conditions.
In another example, my last on-track 10km as a university student also proved my fastest. This was a triumph but also a set-back, since my 36:20 did not qualify me to run the conference meet, which required at least a 35:40. The goal that day was to qualify for the conference race, and in that at least I did not succeed. As in the previous example, preparation and execution were good in the lead-up to that race. I had run a number of strong tempo-runs following the end of indoor season, and about a month before the big race I ran a test 37:59 10km in Maryland, in which every mile was negative split. The test race gave me confidence that I could maintain a harder pace, a confidence I'd been lacking ever since a disastrous 10km debut two years before. After some further endurance work, I spent the last few weeks before the big race working on speed. The results proved good I think, as high-lighted by an excellent 800m race the week before the 10km. Most importantly, the 800m race included a strong kick and a fast time (for me), which added to my confidence. All seemed set to make the attempt.
On the day of the big race, it rained. A lot. This was my first bit of bad luck. Yet all things considered, conditions remained favorable. The temperature was just about right, and the wind was not a factor. To my delight, there was another fellow in the race looking to run the same time, so I figured we could work together and make it happen for both of us. Unfortunately he developed an injury about 2km into the race and dropped out. This was my second bit of bad luck, because after that I was all alone, and what's more I didn't have any sense of the pace (I didn't wear a watch because of the rain).
The rain basically ceased during the race, but that could not prevent my third bit of bad luck. Even with no rain, the track remained quite wet, and each step gradually soaked my spikes and socks. I remember wondering at the time if I would develop a blister, but thankfully this did not occur. Rather the soggy spikes became heavy with moisture, contributing I think to my slowing during the crucial phase between 6 and 8 km. I ran the final 2km in about 7:15, (5:50/mile), or about what I needed to average for the whole race to achieve a qualifying mark.
Assessing the results of the race at that time revealed a mixed-back. On the one hand I'd run a massive pr (personal record), and as in the Fall managed to peak at the right moment. On the other I'd failed to achieve the important goal of qualifying for the championship race. This was a disappointment, and for some time after negatively colored my assessment of that particular race.
Later however, I began to appreciate the positives from that race. All things being equal, that and the cross country race described earlier were two of my best race efforts ever, and while both benefitted (or suffered) from conditions within the context, that did not detract from the elements within my immediate control. In short, they revealed the possibility of a positive result when good preparation is accompanied by good fortune. It doesn't always happen that way, but even good preparation accompanied by bad fortune has utility.
Thinking about those two races, I think they suggest the power and limitations of elements within our control. We can't control the weather, the strength of our competitors, or the outcome of the race. We can, however, manage our preparation, make decisions in the moment, and keep a positive attitude. The outcome is influenced by these factors, but ultimately independent of them; we can't make ourselves a champion, but we can put ourselves in a position favorable to that outcome.
I think this applies to many things in life, but much grief is experienced when we fail to account for chance and other factors outside our control which contribute to the final outcome of an event. Success and failures, it would seem, are neither the result of our ability or the result of chance alone, but of them both in some measure. Maybe. Something to ponder further perhaps.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
This can be disconcerting, but a healthy appreciation of "luck" or "fortune" is perhaps warranted. Sometimes the chips fall in one's favor, and sometimes they don't. It is natural but perhaps inaccurate when the outcome is favorable to attribute the success entirely to one's ability. We may flatter ourselves, in some cases things might have turned out differently.
Consider the following example. My last cross country race as a university student turned out to be my fastest as well. I ran 28:45 for 8km, eclipsing my old record by almost 10 seconds. At first I attributed the success to good execution of a race plan, as well as a solid peak. Further thought compelled me to realize the import of other factors that day. Chief among these was the weather, which that day was sunny, chilly, and quite dry. Coupled with the well-tended course and a positive attitude, the moment seemed ripe for a new personal record. Had the weather proved exceptionally hot or rainy, the outcome might have proved otherwise. As it was, the success of that race seems to have been due not only to good preparation and execution, but also favorable conditions.
In another example, my last on-track 10km as a university student also proved my fastest. This was a triumph but also a set-back, since my 36:20 did not qualify me to run the conference meet, which required at least a 35:40. The goal that day was to qualify for the conference race, and in that at least I did not succeed. As in the previous example, preparation and execution were good in the lead-up to that race. I had run a number of strong tempo-runs following the end of indoor season, and about a month before the big race I ran a test 37:59 10km in Maryland, in which every mile was negative split. The test race gave me confidence that I could maintain a harder pace, a confidence I'd been lacking ever since a disastrous 10km debut two years before. After some further endurance work, I spent the last few weeks before the big race working on speed. The results proved good I think, as high-lighted by an excellent 800m race the week before the 10km. Most importantly, the 800m race included a strong kick and a fast time (for me), which added to my confidence. All seemed set to make the attempt.
On the day of the big race, it rained. A lot. This was my first bit of bad luck. Yet all things considered, conditions remained favorable. The temperature was just about right, and the wind was not a factor. To my delight, there was another fellow in the race looking to run the same time, so I figured we could work together and make it happen for both of us. Unfortunately he developed an injury about 2km into the race and dropped out. This was my second bit of bad luck, because after that I was all alone, and what's more I didn't have any sense of the pace (I didn't wear a watch because of the rain).
The rain basically ceased during the race, but that could not prevent my third bit of bad luck. Even with no rain, the track remained quite wet, and each step gradually soaked my spikes and socks. I remember wondering at the time if I would develop a blister, but thankfully this did not occur. Rather the soggy spikes became heavy with moisture, contributing I think to my slowing during the crucial phase between 6 and 8 km. I ran the final 2km in about 7:15, (5:50/mile), or about what I needed to average for the whole race to achieve a qualifying mark.
Assessing the results of the race at that time revealed a mixed-back. On the one hand I'd run a massive pr (personal record), and as in the Fall managed to peak at the right moment. On the other I'd failed to achieve the important goal of qualifying for the championship race. This was a disappointment, and for some time after negatively colored my assessment of that particular race.
Later however, I began to appreciate the positives from that race. All things being equal, that and the cross country race described earlier were two of my best race efforts ever, and while both benefitted (or suffered) from conditions within the context, that did not detract from the elements within my immediate control. In short, they revealed the possibility of a positive result when good preparation is accompanied by good fortune. It doesn't always happen that way, but even good preparation accompanied by bad fortune has utility.
Thinking about those two races, I think they suggest the power and limitations of elements within our control. We can't control the weather, the strength of our competitors, or the outcome of the race. We can, however, manage our preparation, make decisions in the moment, and keep a positive attitude. The outcome is influenced by these factors, but ultimately independent of them; we can't make ourselves a champion, but we can put ourselves in a position favorable to that outcome.
I think this applies to many things in life, but much grief is experienced when we fail to account for chance and other factors outside our control which contribute to the final outcome of an event. Success and failures, it would seem, are neither the result of our ability or the result of chance alone, but of them both in some measure. Maybe. Something to ponder further perhaps.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
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