A Reflection on "Children Full of Life"

On this snowy morning in early December, I came upon a little documentary on the Youtube called "Children Full of Life." It follows a fourth-grade class in a school near Tokyo through the course of a school year (April to March), highlighting moments which brought the students closer together. These included dealing with deaths in the family of several students, bullying, and the question of whether a student would be allowed to ride a raft he and his classmates had built.

Through it all, 57-year-old teacher Toshiro Kanamori teaches not only traditional academic subjects like maths and language, but seeks to instill in his class the value of life, responsibility, and working hard for others. At times he comes across as tough and perhaps a little mean, for instance during the bullying and raft episodes. Yet in each case his willingness to let the students discuss the problem, devise solutions for it, and be open with one another, all point to a deep sense of empathy, care, and commitment to providing life lessons. Referring to the raft incident, Kanamori says:

"The raft was not the problem," he says, watching everyone enjoy the fruits of their labor at the school's swimming pool. "The children said the solution should match the problem. They were absolutely right. I was really impressed. Even adults can't say that. That was excellent. That was perfect. A perfect victory for them." 

I enjoyed the documentary for many reasons, though in particular because it stands in contrast to, first, a stereotype that Japanese education primarily involves rote memorization and drill; and second, a trend in education which emphasizes academics and test performance over personal development and socialization skills. And I while I don't doubt school in Japan is rigorous, I was caught off-guard when Mr. Kanamori asks on the first day of the new term, "What are we here for?" to which his class responds, "To be happy!"

What are we to make of all this? First, that we are seeing only a small fraction of what goes on in a single classroom over the period of a single year. These episodes are interesting and suggestive, but they are mere glimpses into a complex social environment, and selective glimpses at that. I found in reading the comments on the video that many wished they had experienced a class like that in school, or had a teacher like Mr. Kanamori--that his strict-yet-tender approach, coupled with a commitment to inculcating a sense of family among the students, is beautiful to behold. But again, we only see so much, and do not live our days in those students' shoes. We don't attend school 240 days a year, from about 8:30am-3:40pm, or sweep and polish the floors everyday; and we don't experience all the pressures and social conventions that life in Mr. Kanamori's classroom requires. We see the results--a tightly-knit class in a tidy classroom, overseen by an understanding teacher--but little of the process or culture that made it possible. I think this is one reason why documentaries like "Children Full of Life" are so influential, but rarely provide clear direction on policy; the message they send is clear, but the steps toward realizing it are not.

On the other hand, "Children Full of Life" does confound stereotypes (mine anyway) about Japanese school life, and shows how a group of relative strangers can--given a certain context--become like a family. When individual students lose members of their family, as happens on two occasions in the documentary, we see the class come together to support them. They write heart-felt letters, and share their own experiences of death in their families. The resulting emotions are not always easy to process, and some students hoping to comfort their friend end up in need of comforting themselves; but no one suffers alone, and emotional trials like the death of a father end up being a learning, and perhaps more importantly, a growing experience for everyone. This becomes apparent when the class decides as their final project to write a letter in the school-yard to the dead relatives of their classmates, so big that it could be read from the sky. It's a moving scene, and the culmination of what sounds like a remarkable period of personal growth for the class.

I encourage you to watch the documentary for yourself, and see what thoughts it elicits. It's well-made, and whether it speaks to you or not, I think it offers a fascinating perspective of an element of culture, and how it answers the question of how to live well.

What would Thomas Friedman think of Mustachianism?

Toward the end of October, Mr. Money Mustache (MMM) wrote an article called "Obamacare: Friend of the Entrepreneur and Early Retiree." In it, he argues that the ACA has the potential to allow everyone in the US to get affordable health insurance without needing an employer. If so, this could provide a degree of freedom for people looking to start their own business, take a job without benefits, or retire early from mandatory work. As MMM writes:

"With this new law, you can now drop the decades-old tradition of great fear and dependence on your employer for health coverage. You can quit your job, switch to another one, or create your own, with no more worry about who will cover you, because cost is affordable and minimal at lower incomes."

As MMM points out, given that early retirees don't have an outside employer and that their income is often derived from passively-earning assets, it's likely that a large portion of them would qualify for federal subsidies. Though one can argue the rights and wrongs of offering relatively wealthy people subsidized health insurance, the ACA does seem to have the potential to move us away from employer-centered insurance.

Perhaps as interesting, however, is the argument that the changing world of employment almost requires we move away from employer-based insurance. This is the argument made by Thomas Friedman in his column from Sunday, entitled "Why I (Still) Support Obamacare."As we've discussed in previous posts (see here and here), Friedman suggests that the recent merger of Globalization and the IT-Revolution has removed many of the walls, ceilings, and floors on--and within which--much of our middle-class prosperity has heretofore rested. In particular, he points to the elimination of many "high-wage or decent-wage, medium-skilled jobs," characterized as one in which: 

"... many people could lead a middle-class lifestyle — with less education and more security — because they didn’t have to compete so directly with either a computer or a machine that could do their jobs faster and better (by far the biggest source of job churn) or against an Indian or Chinese who would do their jobs cheaper."

Increasingly, it appears such lifestyles will require more skills in demanded fields, such as technology, finance, or services, and a deep commitment to continuing education and constant adaptation. Citing Jame Manyika, a "lead research[er] on economic and technology trends at the McKinsey Global Institute," Friedman suggests that:

"...how we think about 'employment' to sustain a middle-class lifestyle may need to expand 'to include a broader set of possibilities for generating income' compared with the traditional job, with benefits and a well-grooved career path."

For Friedman, this "broader set of possibilities for generating income" could include "...leveraging your skills through Task Rabbit, or your car through Uber, or your spare bedroom through AirBnB to add up to a middle-class income." 

At the heart of this argument is the assumption that increasingly, as traditional avenues of employment disappear, large numbers of people will need to take up some form of entrepreneurship. This will not be easy for everyone, and so Friedman believes, "Having a national health care safety net under the vast majority of Americans — to ease and enable people to make this transition — is both morally right and in the interest of everyone who wants a stable society."

From both perspectives--Mr. Friedman's and MMM's--decoupling health insurance from employers is useful; that whether by temperament or of necessity entrepreneurship seems likely to grow, and ensuring such folks can acquire affordable health insurance is one way of broadly supporting them.

Yet I think the picture Mr. Friedman and Mr. Money Mustache paint here is indicative of larger issues than health insurance, or the new healthcare law. Friedman argues that employment is changing, while MMM argues that people could really benefit by making their own jobs. The former views the decoupling of heath insurance from employment as necessary for future stability, while the latter sees it as an incentive to become financially independent and do work one enjoys. 

Reading Friedman's column on Sunday, I wondered what he would think of Mustachianism, the basic approach to life espoused by Mr. Money Mustache, that eschews convenience and encompasses frugality, positive thinking, and an interest in developing our many sources of strength. My personal view is that in a world without ceilings, walls, or floors--the world Friedman sees developing before our eyes--Mustachianism by all its names (think Stoicism, Self-Help, etc.) could help many to thrive in an environment in which the sky is the limit, but traditional paths to success have mostly disappeared.

When I read about Mustachians, I'm struck by their willingness to question conventional ideas while embracing ancient principles like hard work, honesty, and a well-kept mind. Happiness from their perspective is a nurtured condition, tended with close relationships, optimism, a lifestyle full of life-affirming challenges and interesting work (and of course, less stuff).  It's as though they build a modern life using old-fashioned principles, with a wholesome blend of old and new.

I suspect such a blend will come in handy down the road, particularly if Friedman's predictions about the future of work come to pass. And while I can't say what Mr. Friedman would think of Mustachianism, I suspect it represents a useful approach for succeeding in a world short of secure employment, and long on opportunity. We shall see.

In Pursuit of a Dream: Introducing "Glacier Runner"

It's awesome to hear about people pursuing their dreams, and today I have the pleasure of introducing you to one of them.

A few years ago, my friend Dan dropped off the face of the planet for a few months, only to turn up out west climbing mountains, fighting bears (more like running from them--he is a runner after all, though "Running-from-Bears Runner" is a mouthful of a blog title), and being generally badass.

Glacier Runner is the perspective of a smart young man looking to see how fast he can run a marathon, and how many people he can help reach their own running and fitness goals as a coach.

I hope you will all join with me in welcoming our friend Dan to the blogosphere, and wish him luck in the upcoming Boston marathon.

Good luck, sir!

*Edit: Dan decided he liked WordPress better than Blogger, so note the change in links.

A Remembrance of Robert J. Kiefer (1954-2013), or as I knew him, "Mr. Kiefer"

I was surprised and saddened to learn of the death of my long-time neighbor, Mr. Kiefer, this past Thursday. A constant feature of the neighborhood all through my youth and young adulthood, his absence has proven readily apparent, and even now I cannot believe he is gone. He was 59.

Strange to think that as a youngster, I found Mr. Kiefer rather frightening. Perhaps it was his great size or his powerful voice, but whenever I used to head over to play with my friends Mark, Brett, Wade, and Jason, I tended to avoid their dad if I could.

Such avoidance seems silly now, as many of my memories include him doting on Ashes, the family cat, or putting out peanuts for the squirrels (who no doubt liked them, given the incredible number of shells I've found in the garden over the years) .

Sometimes I would hear him playing the guitar through my bedroom window, noodling away at some ditty or other. In later years, as first my brother and then I graduated from high school and college, I had the opportunity to converse with Mr. Kiefer at our graduation parties. Far from frightening, he possessed a keen intellect, and a great interest in music. I learned he was a teacher, and in fact taught two of my cousins some years ago.

 Remembering those conversations, I wonder if perhaps Frodo felt similarly when meeting Farmer Maggot in The Fellowship of the Ring. Chased off the farmer's land as a youth by Maggot and his dogs, Frodo remarks in later years, "I've been in terror of you and your dogs for over thirty years, Farmer Maggot, though you may laugh to hear it. It's a pity: for I have missed a good friend" (p. 137). While I've never been chased by Mr. Kiefer or his animals, nonetheless I think I understand Frodo's sentiments a little better.

For this I am especially thankful, as too frequently I think we let our first impressions carry undue weight in subsequent meetings. To borrow a term from Malcolm Gladwell, we take a "thin slice" of impressions, and use them to judge the whole; like using a slice of a potato to determine if the whole is moldy or not. However natural, this method is clearly flawed, and it is good to have such impressions modified, especially for the better.

I'm glad I got to know Mr. Kiefer a little better, and appreciate more fully the gifts he possessed, and the life he lived. He touched many people, and will surely be missed.

Peace, neighbor

jc

On the difference between action and agent

It's Election Day here in the US, a "holiday" held annually on the first Tuesday of every November. For those who haven't noticed (and I would not fault you if you didn't), our national politics have lately been quite polarized. More than perhaps at any time in my life, there seems to be a kind of vitriol and visceral anger just below the surface of much contemporary discussion, even on topics only remotely related to politics.

Why this is I cannot say, but its result appears to be the polarization not only of political ideas, but also of the respective people who hold political views of any kind. And while the former may be inevitable--that there are usually multiple sides to and interpretations of every issue--the latter is perhaps not, because an action or idea is not the same as the thing that does the act or conceives of the idea. As the Dalai Lama writes in "Ethics For The New Millennium" (1999):

"When we do something negative, we are capable of recognizing the difference between ourselves and the negative act. But we often fail to separate action and agent when it comes to others. This shows us how unreliable is even apparently justified anger" (pp. 96-97).

Read the comment section of almost any news story from an online paper today, and you will probably see not only a substantive debate over ideas, but also attacks of varying degrees against people who hold them; for example, an advocate of single-payer healthcare becomes, in the eyes of some, a socialist-taker-moocher-leftist-traitor, and a global-warming denier an ignorant-uncaring-regressive-right-wing-tea-party-nutcase. Not one of these labels include "human," which I assume all commenters are, and few seem interested in dissembling a person's ideas from who they actually are. We are thus left not only with divided politics (which has been historically normal and even healthy in most democracies and republics), but also a divided sense of who warrants the basic respect afforded to people in general. So while a difference of opinion and world-view is perhaps a good thing for a country, it becomes less useful when we forget that those with whom we disagree are people too, and are more than the sum of the ideas they have.

Some benefits of keeping a journal

In July of 2011--a few months after graduating from college--I started writing a journal with the intention of recording a page of text everyday. To my surprise and delight, this simple exercise not only became a habit, but grew into a source of inspiration, perspective, and practice. Indeed, whenever someone tells me they want to turn their life around, I suggest they start a journal and keep it religiously. As Mark Twain said in The Innocents Abroad (1869), "Yes, a journal that is incomplete isn't of much use, but a journal properly kept is worth a thousand dollars--when you've got it done."

Why, you ask? Judging from my own experience, few activities are more conducive to processing the past and our own ideas than by putting them into written form. There's likely a scientific explanation for why this so often works, but what I find is that a record of one's experiences and thoughts make reviewing them easier. It helps us see from where we've come, and how our appraisal of events has either changed or remained the same over time. Perhaps as importantly, a piece of writing, even just the word-vomit of a stream-of-consciousness piece, requires a kind of architecture to stay together outside the confines of one's mind. As such, the act of writing seems to have the consequence--intended or otherwise--of making us give our thoughts and experiences coherence and connectiveness it might not otherwise have. Sometimes this process oversimplifies complex phenomenon (see most op-eds for examples), but for an individual building a narrative about, and an approach to, one's life may make useful insights more likely. This could be why I've found several instances of journal writers on the Internet using the exercise to process grief, loss, the end of relationships, or some other major change in their lives.

As Twain's words from above might suggest, while starting a journal isn't difficult keeping it often is. I've had this problem over the years, excitedly beginning the tasking of filling a book with thoughts and ideas each day, later to run out of steam and abandon the effort a few days, weeks, or months later. For some reason the original fire could not sustain the effort, and like a candle burned low, my flame of enthusiasm would wink out each time.

I think the biggest difference between this time and the others involved my openness to simplicity. Journaling can be as simple or complex as you want, and likely no one method will work for everyone. In my case, I had to make the exercise simple, and define success broadly: I could write about anything, so long as I did it every day, and filled a page in my book. Some days I could draw pictures of maps, and others it would be simply text. I could write about news, something I'd read, or a conversation I'd had, anything. Content mattered less than performing the exercise, and while I wrote (and continue to write) a lot of fluff and nonsense, I often feel better after doing it.

And of course it can be good fun to go back a year or two and see what was happening, what things had me excited or worried, or something goofy a co-worker said. It's for these things, among others, that I think made Twain rate a well-kept journal so highly.

Happy Thursday :)  

A few projects presently underway

As some have noticed--and combing through the blog's archives, so have I--there's been a prolonged dearth of new posts on the site. In explanation, I can only think of few that fit, and only in a general way at that; that I have been either too busy, without any clear ideas for posts, or some combination of the two. As it is a cold, rainy day here on the mountain, and at the urging of some friends, I thought perhaps to describe some projects I'm currently undertaking which might some day lead to a post of their own. So here goes.

1.) Relearning the Bassoon:

I started playing the bassoon many years ago in the 5th grade. I enjoyed the sound it made, and felt drawn to its quirky shape and unique place in the elementary school concert band. I didn't take playing it seriously until high school, however, when a grouchy band director with a gift for invective pushed me to make bassooning a daily habit, which I kept more or less until my senior year in college.

Upon graduating, however, I found myself slipping ever more away from the practice, until sometime last year I basically ceased playing at all. Having gone almost a full calendar year without cracking the instrument's case, I recently decided to start playing again.

The results, alas, were not pretty. I sounded awful, and it is hard to keep going when the going is not good. Be that as it may, accepting that things would be bad before they improved seemed to help, and after a few sessions I am beginning to see some progress. The road is long, and it is frustrating sometimes to labor at something which once felt easy. Yet it is also rewarding to step back and fill-in the gaps in one's knowledge and skills, experiencing thereby the advantages of a solid and well-laid foundation as challenges grow more difficult. Which segues nicely into another project...

2.) Relearning Math with Khan Academy:

I've had difficulties of various kinds related to math since about the 5th grade, when we started learning the multiplication and divisions of numbers with decimals. For whatever reason, these topics left me briefly behind. Matters grew foggier the following year with a failure to intuit the concept of negative numbers, which caused all manner of problems with basic algebra. I might go on, but you can probably begin to see how these gaps in understanding and knowledge left me feeling quite incompetent as a mathematician, which over the years compelled me to limit the scope of my potential professional goals by the degree to which they employed and relied upon the math.

About a year ago, I discovered the site Khan Academy (an earlier post on the subject can be found here), and so much seems to have changed since. I used it whilst taking Statistics at the local community college, and again when I took Chemistry over the summer. The video lectures helped quite a bit, and the tutorials provided useful practice and feed-back.

Several weeks ago, with my second crack the GRE approaching, I decided to go back and try relearning math from the point at which I started having difficulties. As it turned out Khan Academy is great for this, having recently launched a new learning dashboard that makes tracking progress easy.

On the day of my GRE test, I'd "mastered" about 90 separate topics, and felt better versed in math than perhaps at any other point in my life. This new-found confidence yielded a smaller improvement on the exam than I'd hoped, yet the improvement and sense of progress compelled me to keep going, such that a few weeks later I've "mastered" over 200 topics, and intend to keep going until every skill on the dashboard is mastered.

It's been very encouraging, and I can't wait most days to jump in and practice some new skill (yesterday's challenge involved converting between degrees and radians). I'm thankful for Mr. Khan and his team for developing such a useful online tool, which brings us to final project I've been working on...

3.) Learning Spanish with Duolingo:

For a little over the past two years, I've had the pleasure to work alongside a number of Guatemalan immigrants. They're hard-working chaps with a great sense of humor, and I feel as though I learn something new from them everyday. In particular, I have picked up a bit of Spanish, a subject I never studied in school. Having never studied it formally, I found the language I was learning to be a smattering of vocabulary governed by the unofficial grammar of "Spanglish," which is effectively the language I and my co-workers use among ourselves. Not surprisingly, when conversing with each other the Guatemalans speak Spanish. Over time I've felt the urge to learn this language, at least to the point that I could understand what they said to me, and communicate in kind.

To that end I've considered taking a class, but that costs money and time which I don't necessarily have at present. With that, I took the lesson learned from Khan Academy and sought an online tool that could help me achieve the goal of learning Spanish. After some searching, I recently came across the site Duolingo, and began a regimen of Spanish instruction.  So far, I've enjoyed using the site, a fairly recent start-up offering free language instruction for English speakers in Spanish, German, French, Portuguese, and Italian, and English instruction in Spanish, French, Portuguese, and Italian. Interestingly, Duolingo is a "crowdsourced text translation platform," such that as students progress through the levels of instruction, they simultaneously help translate other websites over the Internet. So by learning another language through Duolingo, one not only consumes lessons but also contributes to a good cause.

Conclusion:

These projects, along with work and school, have kept me pretty busy since the end of the summer, but I've learned a lot in the interval, and perhaps some of what you see here will inspire you to attempt a new project or take up an old one of your own. There are lots of tools out there on the Internet if you have the time and inclination to figure them out; and finding one that works for you, can make a big difference in the quality and frequency of your practice. Underlying everything, however, is a good attitude that can simultaneously accept feeling incompetent at the beginning of a process while maintaining good habits and patience throughout. I am no expert in this subject, but taking on the projects described above has provided some helpful reminders of how nice it can be to work with a positive frame of mind.

Happy Thursday :)

A Remembrance of Tom Clancy (1947-2013)

I was surprised and saddened to learn yesterday that author Tom Clancy had passed away after a brief illness in Baltimore, Maryland. He was 66.

Tom Clancy (1947-2013).
 Retrieved from (link)

Mr. Clancy's books proved a huge influence on me throughout middle and high school, during which I read almost every work of his on my dad's bookshelf. I enjoyed his story-telling, particularly the dialogue, and the clarity, suspense, and detail of his works drew me in like few books could at the time.

Of Mr. Clancy's fiction works, I think my favorite is a tie between "The Hunt for Red October" (1984) and "Red Storm Rising" (1986). On the non-fiction side, I would say his cooperative work with Ret. General Fred Franks "Into the Storm: A Study in Command" (1997) proved the most interesting.

Finally, Mr. Clancy is among the first authors whose work spurred me to take up writing. The richness of his tales and clarity of his prose provided a useful model of a writing style I liked, and over the years has spurred me to keep practicing the craft. I am very thankful for this inspiration, as the writing journey has proven a most enriching one.

So many thanks, Mr. Clancy, for enriching my life and the lives of countless others. You will be missed.

Reflections on an interview with Thomas Friedman

Last night, I came across this video interview by Khan Academy founder Sal Khan of New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman. It comes from a series on Khan Academy of interviews on entrepreneurship, of which Friedman's life and perspective provide some interesting ideas.

Throughout the interview, but particularly toward the end, Friedman goes into some thoughts on the direction of education and labor in the future. Of these, two struck me as particularly interesting.

First, that with the merger of globalization and the IT-revolution, not only have the "ceilings" and "walls" fallen away in terms of employment and innovation, but so too has the "floor." Friedman describes this as incurring both costs and benefits -- that with increasing possibilities comes a certain degree of increased risk and instability. As discussed by Friedman in the video, that means that faster than ever jobs will either require more education to do, can be done by more people or robots/computers, or are disappearing altogether. It also means in Friedman parlance of a shift from "a world of defined benefits to one of defined contributions." Working x-number of years no longer ensures an easy retirement, just as attaining a four-year college degree no longer ensures gainful employment. Says Friedman, "everyone will have to pass the bar,"skill in employing knowledge will matter more than how it was acquired, and increasingly sophisticated methods will track one's exact contribution to just about everything.

This leads to the second idea, which stresses the importance of self-motivation. With the erosion of ceilings, walls, and floors, access to content and instruction has become increasingly open, accessible, and free. Given an Internet connection, one gains access to all the content and tools of learning. With self-motivation and time, the sky becomes the limit. Lacking self-motivation whilst awash in so many avenues for learning, Friedman suggests the best teachers and coaches of the future will be those who inspire rather than simply teach.

That I think is an excellent take-away from this interview. The notion of teachers and coaches inspiring others is nothing new, but bears remembering. Inspiration can invigorate, and wake us up as though from a long sleep. Sometimes it can improve optimism, and make what seemed a large hurdle once now seem smaller. I suspect some folks become more interested in challenges when inspired, or simply able to labor longer and more thoroughly than usual.

Whatever its effect on each of us at different times and as different people, a possibility-rich and secure-benefit-poor world will likely require more from people who can inspire others. For it is clear just from my own experience that making a thing easy and free does not ensure I will do or acquire it; as the saying goes, one can lead a horse to water, but not make him drink. If Friedman's notion of the globalization-IT-Revolution  is accurate, than our world is increasingly becoming full of watering holes, requiring less effort than ever to lead us to them, but perhaps more to make us drink.

Current education policy in the United States as manifested in the Common Core Standards has lately shifted in the direction of hard skills and practical knowledge. Deep understanding of a few central ideas over wide-ranging cursory knowledge, and an emphasis on employing content rather than simply knowing it, seem well-conceived to help students in what Friedman sees as an increasingly flat, hyper-connected world. Implemented well, Common Core may do a great deal of good. But it bears remembering (and I think most people do) that for various reasons, not everyone is motivated to achieve what their talent and training make possible, even when the upside is potentially great; that our best teachers and coaches may not simply be the best educators, but also those who kindle metaphorical fires within their students.

It seems that the ability to inspire others is an important and useful skill, and will likely become even more important in a future where technology gives nearly everyone access to the highest quality tools for learning and skill development. No longer will the limiting factor be access, but motivation to access, and other factors such as available time, nutrition, etc.. And if the world is indeed moving from one "of defined benefit to one of defined contribution,"then inspiration and motivation seem likely foundations upon which it all rests. Rapid change requires rapid adaptation, and it could be we'll need inspirational figures to help us keep at it if and when our energy lags.

The possibilities of such a world seem quite great, with the potential for much invention and improved living standards for many. But it also seems likely to put considerable stress on societies generally, and a whole range of unique problems as a result may emerge. There will be benefits and costs, though in what proportion we can only guess. Yet for all the skills and adaptability we're likely to need, we would be remiss to exclude inspiration--and those who inspire-- as important elements in rapidly changing world, or such are my thoughts after listening to the interview with Thomas Friedman.

Three haikus about summer

A summer sunset near home. Photographed
by the author.

With summer gradually coming to a close, I thought perhaps to distill some experiences from the last few months into a poetic form. Upon reflection, the Japanese haiku seemed suitable, particularly since earlier this year I undertook my first hanami, or cherry-blossom viewing, in Washington D.C.

I also chose the haiku form because it is compact, and seems to capture a great deal of experience in very few words. Each attempts to describe a moment in my life this summer, which you may find echos moments of your own. Writing them comes with many challenges, but I enjoyed writing those found below, and perhaps you will enjoy reading them.

Summer Reading:

Reading in sunlight
On a humid, summer day
Cold tea a blessing.


Summer Running:

Running in the woods
Dusk begins at 9 o'clock
Start the cricket song.


Mosquito Bites:

A mosquito bite
Burns like s'mores o're a fire
A badge of summer

From the Bottom Shelf of the Library

It's often easy to neglect things that are hard but unnecessary to do. One thing in particular is looking at the bottom shelf in the library or bookstore. Sure there are books there, but it's much easier to scan the shelves at eye-level (and those a bit above and below). It's easier that way, though I wonder perhaps if we're not missing something in the process. 

With that in mind, I decided to make a greater effort to give the bottom shelf its due, testing the waters last night at the library of my old college.

Some initial impressions: scanning the bottom shelves is hard on the back and neck, particularly if one is tall compared to the shelf. The easiest method I found was to crawl along on hands and knees, though of course one must be considerate of others if the area is crowded. Another thing I found (at least at this library) is that the bottom shelves don't contain as many books as their higher kin. On the one hand it felt good to know I hadn't been missing nearly as many books as I thought all those years, but on the other it meant I had to move frequently from one cluster to another. It's a lot of work, but the "views" are interesting and different from the usual scenes at eye-level.

Among other works, I found a few dusty tomes that caught my attention. "Among my Books" (1912) is a ponderous read by 19th century English historian Frederic Harrison, who basically goes through his library and writes lovingly about each book. In particular, I enjoyed his eloquent waxing on ancient authors like Marcus Aurelius, Tacitus, and Montaigne. 

Another curious work I found included "The English Mediaeval House" (1965), by Margaret E. Wood. I could find no information about the author, but the book seems like a brilliant bit of detailed history, discussing the structure and evolution of various bits of medieval architecture in the English house from the 12th-16th centuries. The language seemed a bit specialized from what little I read, but given some time I think it could be a fascinating read, particularly if I ever decided to write a novel set in a medieval English society. 

Finally, a little dusty red volume caught my eye entitled, "Learning to Write: Suggestions and Counsel from Robert Louis Stevenson" (1920), compiled by John William Rogers jr. For those who don't know (or remember), Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) wrote both Treasure Island (1883) and the "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" (1886). As it turns out, he also had a fair bit to say on the subject of writing, and our friend Mr. John William Rogers jr. had a mind to compile these essays and bits of letters for our enjoyment. Stevenson is a lucid writer, and sounds like he was a thoughtful man too. The link above is actually to the book if you'd like to sample it. Two quotes I found particularly interesting, and include them below: 

"Such are the best teachers; a dogma learned is only a new error - the old one was perhaps as good; but a spirit communicated is a perpetual possession. These best teachers climb beyond teaching to the plane of art; it is themselves, and what is best in themselves, that they communicate" (p. 39).

"But of works of art little can be said; their influence is profound and silent, like the influence of nature; they mould by contact; we drink them up like water, and are bettered, yet know not how" (p. 34).

So my first pass through the bottom shelves of the library proved interesting, challenging, and fruitful all at once, and it is my hope to repeat the exercise often. Even if little of interest is found, I think it can be good sometimes to look more closely at things than at first seems necessary. Hard to say what one will find until one looks. 

A New School Year and New Standards: A Brief Reflection on the Common Core

It's the first day of school in my local district, and hankering a guess, I expect it's also a school-day for most districts across the country. With another year comes many things, including the further implementation in 45 states of the Common Core Standards in Math and English.

We've explored the Common Core a bit in the past, with a reflection on Sara Mosle's "What should Children Read?," and some thoughts on "The Next Generation Science Standards," an initiative akin to the Common Core with respect to science instruction. My thoughts on both initiatives have been mixed, but generally positive: I agree with both standards' emphasis on foundational mastery at the expense of some content, but remain unsure of its transition from theory into practice. Indeed, there is much concern with the role testing will play in the Common Core (see this principal's objections for instance), as well as fear that the new standards will "kill creativity." Such concerns are legitimate, and in time perhaps we'll see how these challenges are met.

Which brings us back to the present, and the first day of school. We're revisiting the Common Core today because it's also the first day of school in New York, where beginning this year it will be fully implemented. As reported by Kenneth Chang in the New York Times, the broad focus of Common Core in New York will be to cover "fewer topics...more rigorously." Mr. Chang begins with Mayra Baldi's kindergarten class in Brooklyn, where changes to the math curriculum will become immediately apparent.

Where before kindergartners were expected to learn how to count orally to 20 and write out numbers from 1-10, the new standards require them to count to 100 (in ones and tens) and write out their numbers from 1 to 20.

The new standard is expected to be challenging for kindergartners, who must not only be able to memorize the names of numbers, but must to write them out, and have an intellectual sense of what "12" or "15" objects means. As Mr. Chang suggest, "Now they are to not only say 'fourteen,' but also to know it is written as '14' and understand that it represents a group of 14 objects."

Not surprisingly, this renewed emphasis on numbers will crowd-out other math lessons, specifically those related to patterns which have long served as a basic introduction to Algebra.

As reported later in the piece, "...the new standards are modeled on the teaching strategies of countries, especially in Asia, that perform better on international comparisons...'Countries who outperform us are countries that do not cover every single concept that is on those tests,'... 'They cover focused concepts. They cover central concepts.'"

The emphasis on numbers and what they mean discussed above may have deeper goals in mind. As discussed by Malcolm Gladwell in "Outliers" (2008), differences in the way certain Western and Asian languages name numbers could make it easier for certain Asians to learn math from an earlier age (Gladwell 2008, pp. 227-232). The advantage is apparently in the regularity of Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean in naming numbers. By contrast, English and other Western languages have irregular naming systems (for example, putting the 10s first in "twenty-five, twenty-six, etc." while putting the 1s first in "fourteen, fifteen, sixteen). According to Gladwell:

"The difference means that Asian children learn to count much faster than American children. Four-year-old Chinese children an count, on average to forty. American children at that age can count only to fifteen, and most don't reach 40 until they're five. By the age of five, in other words, American children are already a year behind their Asian counterparts in the most fundamental of math skills" (Gladwell 2008, p. 229).

Whether one agrees with Gladwell's larger points in the book or not, there does seem to be something to this notion of language and numbers; that for better or worse, American students learning in English may need to spend more time and effort on numbers to keep pace with similarly educated Asians speaking Mandarin, Japanese, or Korean.

In this respect then, Common Core's focus on numbers and foundational knowledge is well placed. Teaching kindergartners to count orally to 100 in both 1s and 10s, and to write out their numbers from 1-20 as described above is a challenging task, but one that may provide them greater facility with numbers from an early age. Whether American students fall behind their Asian counterparts due to language or not, a more rigorous program of number study may improve math achievement in later grades.

We shall see how Common Core works in the next few years, but I think its current focus is on or certainly near the mark. Concerns abound about the role of tests, the space for creativity, and even the encroachment of Federal influence on youth education, but for the moment Common Core will have its day in class.

Happy School Year, folks :)

A remembrance of Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)

Seamus Heaney. Retrieved from link

Yesterday, I was saddened to learn of the death of Irish poet Seamus Heaney, whose eminently readable translation of Beowulf introduced me to the fascinating world of ancient literature back in high school. In subsequent years, friends repeatedly suggested I read his poetry, which they and others described as lyrical and accessible, a fine combination for poetry if one may say so. I never got around to it, but perhaps now I will. Mr. Heaney was 74.

As too often happens, only upon someone's death do we become fully conscious of their life and influence. Mr.Heaney's case is little different. As the Prime Minister of Ireland Enda Kenny recently said, "For us, Seamus Heaney was the keeper of language, our codes, our essence as a people...He belongs with Joyce, Yeats, Shaw and Beckett in the pantheon of our greatest literary exponents" (source). Among many prizes, Mr. Heany won the 1995 Nobel Prize in Literature, and taught at some of the most respected universities of his time. Many believe he is the most acclaimed Irish poet since William Butler Yeats (1865-1939).

For those interested in learning more of Mr. Heaney, the following links may be of service:

-Wikipedia entry.
-Wall Street Journal remembrance
-New York Times remembrance
-Henri Cole's remembrance from "The New Republic"
-Part 1 of 2 of Heaney's Beowulf translation, read by Heaney himself

I am thankful for Mr. Heaney's small but important contribution in sparking my interest in literature, and hope his life and work will continue to inspire others in the years ahead. The world could use a few more poets perhaps, and an occasional reminder of our shared human roots.

So thank you, Mr. Heaney - you will be missed.

From Ireland, With Love: Some Impressions and Reflections

My family and I spent the past week traveling across Ireland. We had a lovely (albeit exhausting) trip, experiencing many interesting things and visiting many interesting places. A more narrative piece (hopefully with photos) will be forthcoming in the next few days. In the mean time, I thought perhaps to include some impressions and reflections acquired whilst abroad, the better to contextualize a later account of some places we visited. With that said, let's dive in.

To start, it seems to me Ireland is an exceedingly pastoral country. Over every mountain and around every bend, one often finds pastures and fields enclosed by hedgerows and short stone walls. It seemed every curve in the road brought some new expanse of idyllic farm country, awash in a combination of Ireland's "40 shades of green." Numbers lend credence to these impressions: as of 2011, there were  more cows in country (5,925,300) than people (4,576,000), and a goodly number of sheep (3,480,000) to boot. In addition, only 9% of Ireland is covered by trees, compared to an EU average of 30%. Combined with mountainous terrain, the result is vast and open country of an exceedingly pastoral character. I enjoyed the views.

 Less enjoyable proved the economic scenes which greeted us. To provide some context, in the late 90s and early 2000s Ireland experienced a property bubble: in other words, the price of houses and property rose faster than ordinary economic indicators suggested they should. When Ireland adopted the Euro in 1999, monetary policy shifted from Dublin to the European Central Bank (ECB) in Frankfurt, which among other things led to a lower interest rate than would have existed had the old currency remained in place. Low interest rates made the acquisition of credit (loans, etc.) less expensive, which often increases demand for borrowing and speculation. Academics and policy wonks debate the specifics of all this, but it should suffice for our purposes that property values rose rapidly through the early 2000s, and collapsed in 2008. As of 2011, the price of houses in Dublin (the capital) had fallen 51% from their peak; at the same time, the price of apartments fell 60%. Neither value has recovered, and most estimates suggest it will only get worse in the next few years

The signs of this bubble are in evidence all across Ireland, but particularly in Dublin, where speculation proved hottest, and collapse the steepest. Throughout our trip,"To let" signs proved common, and from time to time we passed housing developments that had been finished but never sold. Outside Galway, we passed houses that before the property bubble were valued at over a million Euro, while today they go for €400,000.

Demand - which supports or drives up prices - is also not likely to improve, with current unemployment in Ireland at 13.5% (26.5% for people younger than 25, and 12.1% for the rest). Furthermore, Irish Gross Domestic Product (GDP) contracted 0.6% from QI in 2013 compared to same quarter in 2012. Also, the number of mortgages granted has fallen to levels not seen since 1971, of which 28% are in arrears (behind in payments), a figure that continues to grow.

The numbers are sobering, and opinions regarding them are never far from the surface. Whilst walking the streets of Dublin for instance, my family and I encountered a small demonstration protesting budget cuts and fiscal austerity. Similarly in Galway, graffiti was in evidence near to the Spanish Arch and other tourist sites calling for an end to austerity, and indirectly abandonment of the EU. It is interesting, given the fact that in 2011 Ireland was hailed as a "model" of austerity by Germany and others, despite signs of increasing unemployment, welfare dependence, and emigration (see story from the New York Times). From what I could tell on the ground, the situation has not improved in that time.

Yet not all is depressing in Ireland these days. The people proved exceedingly friendly on our visit, from the stranger on the street who gave us directions, to the pub folks who made room for us so we might enjoy the live music. Speaking of which, the music is an absolute treat. There is perhaps no other country in the world whose people and music seem so perfect for one another. And there is perhaps no other country whose national symbol is a musical instrument (I've heard it's either the harp or the Uilleann Pipes, a kind of Irish bag-pipe). I felt a passion in Ireland for music, both ancient and grounded in the experiences of everyday life. Go to any pub worth its salt after 9pm, and one is likely to encounter banjos and fiddles, pipes, flutes, guitars and drums (see bodhrán). In all of my encounters with these groups, I never did see a bit of sheet-music, nor a musician who didn't seem to be having the time of his or her life. The virtuosity of the players at times bordered on the surreal, and hours went by without notice. Usually a player starts a tune, and other join in as they figure out the melody and the key the first player chose. Sometimes a player would improvise a harmony, or set a beat for everyone else. As time wore on, some players would leave and others would join; it was all very informal, yet did not suffer a drop in quality. All the while, one sits barely a few feet away, close enough to see the players' sweat, and feel their whoops of joy as well as hear them. There is nothing quite like an pub-based jam session with the Irish.

Ireland proved a stimulating place, and what I've written is but a smattering of the impressions and reflections I experienced while there. It seemed to me a beautiful country with beautiful people, both struggling under the burden of a heavy history (more on that later perhaps) and a somber economic present. I enjoyed my time in Ireland, and hope someday to return.  

Interesting reads: "The Anabasis" by Xenophon

For those who read for pleasure, some books must simply be read more than once. One such work for me is the "Anabasis" by Xenophon.  

A tale of adventure and daring, Xenophon's Anabasis begins at the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE), a protracted conflict between the allies of Athens and Sparta (aided in the latter stages by Persia). Much of Greece was mobilized during the conflict, and few years in that stretch passed without fighting in some part of Hellas (the contemporary term for "Greece").

At about the same time as the war was winding down in Greece (404), the King of Persia, Darius the second of his name, died and gave control of Persia over to his first son Arsicas, who took the name Artaxerxes the second of his name upon taking the crown. However, the king's second son, Cyrus the Younger, felt he should be king, and plotted to overthrow his brother. Cyrus' plot was revealed to the king by Tissaphernes, and was imprisoned until the urging of the brothers' mother saw Cyrus released. It is with this episode that Xenophon's account begins.

Cyrus returned to his lands along the coast of Asia Minor (present day Turkey) on the eastern periphery of the empire, where he began in secret to recruit an army, the core of which would eventually include a little over 10,000 Greek soldiers.

An anabasis is Greek term denoting a march up from the sea and into the country. Once gathered, this is precisely what the army of Cyrus the Younger did, marching across modern Turkey, Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq, where on the banks of the Euphrates river they defeated the Persian army of Artaxerxes II at Cunaxa. While victorious, Cyrus the Younger fell during the battle, leaving the Greek army of 10,000 without a leader or purpose for being in the middle of Persia. Artaxerxes offers to negotiate with the Greeks, and invites their leaders to a feast to discuss terms. Unfortunately for the Greeks, the feast turns out to be a trap, and in a single evening nearly all the generals of the Greek army are executed.

It is at this point that Xenophon, a veteran of the Peloponnesian war, emerges to rally and eventually lead the Greek army out of Persia, and back to their homes in Greece. They march far to the north, battling many foes, eventually reaching the Black Sea. Here it is said the Greeks famously broke out in chants of "Thálatta! Thálatta!" which means "The sea! The sea!" and indicated they were nearly home.

The Anabasis is a lovely read, full of history, adventure, drama, and beautiful language. It has influenced numerous artists over the centuries, and continues to find its way into culture today. Whether one has a scholarly bent or merely after an interesting story, the Anabasis is full of interesting qualities and worth reading if one has the time. 

Results of the "three-things-learned" experiment

A little over two weeks ago I began an experiment in which, at the conclusion of each day, I would write three things I'd learned since waking that morning. I learned a lot in that time, and as much and more from the experience itself. I also learned, however, that enumerated learning has pitfalls, and for me at least proved less useful than expected. I'll try and be more specific below.

The process began well enough. The first few days included such nuggets as, "Goats have rectangular pupils, which help them see at night," and "By her own admission, A&P (Anatomy and Physiology) teacher is ,'not everyone's cup of tea.'" Some days later, I recorded that the "Spanish guys at work often pronounce the word 'tiger' as 'tigger.'"

These facts were enjoyable to record, and looking back help me remember what I was doing those days. This is one positive for the three-things-learned experiment, in that when done a certain way, they contain much information in a pithy format.

Yet some days I struggled to present three new things I learned, and what I put down often seemed overmuch like trivia, or worse, trivial. Now that's not to say these thoughts were without value, but on such days the exercise became not only a struggle, but also a distraction from making a record of the day.

Which all reminds me of a quote from Mark Twain's Life on the Mississippi (1883). In discussing the history of the Mississippi River and those who explored it, Twain writes:

"We do of course know that there are several comparatively old dates in American history, but the mere figures convey to our minds no just idea, no distinct realization, of the stretch of time which they represent. To say that De Soto, the first white man who ever saw the Mississippi River, saw it in 1542, is a remark which states a fact without interpreting it: it is something like giving the dimensions of a sunset by astronomical measurements, and cataloguing the colors by their scientific names;--as a result, you get the bald fact of the sunset, but you don't see the sunset. It would have been better to paint a picture of it."

Twain's notion is striking given my experiences with the three-things-learned experiment. Indeed, despite recording facts, the result provided little of context or subjective interpretation. Sure it is interesting to learn that goats have rectangular pupils (and even crazier to see them!), but the "bald fact" does little alone to render a clear idea of what it was I'd learned.

Such facts I'm finding are simply less interesting in isolation; they acquire more meaning as telling details within a larger narrative.To hear that my co-workers pronounce "tiger" as "tigger" provides a small but humorous perspective on people the rest of you may never meet. For example, in his excellent book "The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt" (1979) biographer Edmund Morrison used such details to great effect in bringing the long-dead Teddy Roosevelt back to life. That TR used to tell people he was "DEE-lighted!" to see them, or that this or that adventure was "REALLY Bully!" each help imbue the 26th President's description on paper with a personality as unique and nearly as energetic as the original. In this way, Morris not only follows the advice of historian Leopold von Ranke - to tell "how it actually happened" (wie es eigentlich gewesen) - but also employs the method Twain suggests: he paints a picture using those facts.

With all that said, the three-things-learned experiment has been a success. And while I won't explicitly write "three things I learned today" each night in the journal, I will look more closely for those telling details that convey so much meaning in so few words. The experience has proven fun and useful, and I encourage you to try for yourself if the mood takes you.

Happy Tuesday :)

Reflection on "The Parable of the Mexican Fisherman"

I found the following yarn while perusing Sean Owen's interesting blog Renewable Wealth, a site dedicated to "financial independence and sustainable living." Entitled "The Parable of the Mexican Fisherman," the story captures, in a nutshell, a refreshing perspective on life and living. I won't spoil it by giving away the ending, but I'll include it here and talk about some more after:

The Parable of the Mexican Fisherman
Author: Unknown

'An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, “only a little while.”

The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish?

The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

The American then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, Maria, and stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.”

The American scoffed. “I have an MBA from Harvard, and can help you,” he said. “You should spend more time fishing, and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, and eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middle-man, you could sell directly to the processor, eventually opening up your own cannery. You could control the product, processing, and distribution,” he said. “Of course, you would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles, and eventually to New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, “Oh, 15 to 20 years or so.”

“But what then?” asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time was right, you would announce an IPO, and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions!”

“Millions – then what?”

The American said, “Then you could retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you could sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, and stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play guitar with your amigos.”'

An interesting story, with a circular twist not unlike the Chinese parable of the Stone Cutter. Both take us from a humble and, in the case of the stone cutter and MBA, dissatisfying place, through a cycle of supposed success and transcendence, until when all is said and done we're back where we started. Everything the characters thought would make them happier or better off turned out to be unnecessary. In some cases, it even left them miserable.   

I suspect we sometimes imagine a circumstance is better simply because it's different from our own. I've been guilt of this on numerous occasions, and still am from time to time. Stories like these help us get out of our own skin, so to speak, and look beyond our immediate impressions of what we like and dislike about life at present. They remind us that "progress" can be a dubious term, as well as a marker of legitimate growth. 

And finally, they encourage patience and contentedness with ordinary life. By coming full circle, stories like these suggest there is nothing "extra" one needs beyond the ordinary; that fulfillment is as much an attitude as a state of being.

A curious thought.

Simple Gifts: Walking through a meadow

About mid-May I had a major change occur to my daily routine. Whereas for three-quarters of a year I attended community college classes in the morning, the first summer session of this year found me attending instead at night.

Among other things, this meant I had to drive all the way to the college, and forego the usual stroll through the park. The transition proved simple enough, and having the car nearby had its advantages (never before have I witnessed so many consecutive nights with thunderstorms).

In any case, this past week I resumed morning classes, as well as the daily step through the park. Despite feeling nervous about the new class, that first morning found me strolling slowly, with a smile on my face. And then as I emerged from the trees bordering the parking area, I remembered exactly why, when given the chance, I walk the extra kilometer to school. For there before me rose the tall grasses, rolling hills, and open sky of the meadow of Tyler Park.

The path through the meadow--paved and well kept--can't be more than a quarter-mile in length, yet it remains a treat for any who enjoy the songs and tapestries of nature. It begins with a small climb, subtle as a spy, with grass of many varieties springing from either side of the path. Many grow as high as my waist, and some as high as my shoulders. In winter, one frequently finds deer grazing by a stream nearby, eyeing me warily whilst grinding though their fibrous fare.

As the path rises, flowers of many kinds appear numerous among the grass. On last count, I found at least six different varieties, ranging in color from yellow and orange to blue and violet. They attract a noisome bunch of insects and other crawly things this time of year, and seem to dance on windy days.

At the climax of the hill stands a small copse of short Walnut trees, where many a bird finds a place to sing. As a result, I've dubbed the spot the "choir loft," and whistle a diddy each time I pass. Beneath the trees stand some curious looking berry bushes, which I suspect are poisonous for me, but seem to bother bird digestion not a bit. I've even noted a family of rabbits who of late have made a home of the hollow spaces beneath the bushes, well-hidden no doubt from predators and the heat of the day.

Speaking of predators, I caught a glimpse one time from the top of the rise of a fox and a little foxling shooting the bull on a nearby ridge. This was in winter, so the grass proved less thick, and made spotting the little guys easier. Round and round they seemed to run, delighting perhaps in the rare treat of a bright sun in winter. Their game proved as much a treat for me as for them I don't doubt.

Alas, the path descends from the "choir loft," until once again entering a stretch of trees, which shade an old stone bridge over a narrow stream. Climb another hill, and one has arrived at the college.

The walk through the meadow is short one, but a real and delightful treat all the same. It seems all those months of crossing it without interruption led me to take it for granted; to look without seeing, and to hear without listening. It is a simple gift to awake once more to the present world, but a wholesome one too, and I'm glad now to have seen that little meadow again with fresh eyes and a more open mind.

It's nice when that happens :).

On personal growth

Whilst visiting my friend Bob last night, our conversation turned to an interesting notion: that in looking back upon our individual pasts, we find challenges and vexations which today seem almost simple and pedestrian. How did middle school become so complicated, or for that matter, the flip-turn? Why did negative numbers make me want to tear out my hair; cursive, to break my pencils into tooth-picks, and mile-racing to make my stomach want to leap straight from my mouth? What happened between then and now to make so many old difficulties laughably easy now?

In speaking with Bob on the subject, a single word came repeatedly to the fore: growth.

We grow over time in various ways, some perhaps to our benefit, and some certainly to our detriment, and which is which is not always clear. At times we grow a little more wise or fit, and sometimes a little more lazy or ignorant. Through some seasons we grow more kind and forbearing, and others more cruel and impatient. Through all ages we grow older, for better and for worse.

But the key word I think is growth. We have experiences, with which we interact, puzzle over, and make our own. We suffer loss and revel in triumph (or revel in loss and suffer in triumph); we meet new people, or old people who bring their own growth into our lives. We date and eat and sleep and fart and travel and breathe and think and read and do mean things and do nice things and make all manner of things.

And yet, we still have challenges today, much as our former selves had challenges in the past. We've become experts in the challenges of yesterday, but face a whole new batch today. In some ways perhaps we are as dazed and confused by the puzzles of today as our former selves were of earlier trials all those years ago. And a year from now - or five perhaps - we might look back on the present time and wonder how any of it vexed us at all.

It's hard to imagine, but it does seem to happen. Bob mentioned an article he once read in which people from a wide swath of the ages were asked to look back upon their past, and consider how much they'd changed over time. Be they 20 or 60 years of age, when questioned, it was found basically every ten years everyone queried completely revamped themselves. Values changed, priorities changed, political views changed; in short, a reasonably different person from ten years prior. Yet when asked whether they thought they would change so much in the next ten years, nearly everyone thought they'd remain basically the same.

They willingly acknowledged how much they'd changed in life heretofore, but could not imagine changing so much in the future.

It's no surprise then that we can hardly imagine ourselves as people who find today's demands so effortless, obvious, and paltry. We are perhaps as saplings to an oak tree, astonished at the height and breadth and acorn-count of that arboreal giant. Yet both were once seeds in the ground.

Given nourishment and time, saplings, oaks, and people grow and adapt to the world in which they are planted. It's not always easy growth (and perhaps never easy in the moment), but when times demand and we respond our branches grow a little more. And things once difficult now seem simple, and today's challenges yield tomorrow's fruit.

So it seems we are growing and becoming all the time. Today we are one thing, and tomorrow another. Through experience and experiences we change, in ways predicted and unforeseen. And though the present be full of difficulties, it is nice perhaps to look back sometimes and see how far you've come. Indeed, you've grown a lot, and will likely grow some more. And though hard to imagine, today's difficulties may well be tomorrow's routine, not to mention a source of humor for your future self. That we might laugh at the awkward and heavy-handed manner of our present selves is perhaps one way, as Montaigne once wrote, to, "...become wise at our own expense."

What three things did you learn today?

I'm amazed sometimes how much I learn (and don't learn!) each day. Whether from school, work, or the many adventures of life, I begin to wonder if perhaps every incident in life--considered in a certain way--is an opportunity to learn something new. I like to think so, even if it doesn't always seem to work out that way. 

In any case, I became curious as to how this sort of learning might be tracked, and from there more thoroughly understood. This line of thinking led to the formulation of a game of sorts, one that perhaps you will join me in playing.

It's pretty simple: take a piece of paper, and on it write three things you learned today. You can do more or fewer if you like, but my plan is to go with three.  On the morrow, repeat the exercise. From time to time, give the list a gander,  and see all the things you've learned of late.

The contents of the list might be equally simple. For example, I might include a Spanish word I learned at work, or some curious fact about human physiology (which I'm currently studying in community college). Similarly, one might include some broader lesson, such as not going out so fast in a race, or some study method that yielded good or poor results. It's all up to you really; the point is to take some of the learning you do on a daily basis, and put it on paper. In this way, one might render such knowledge more apparent to one's self, and perhaps also more useful. 

Starting tonight, I'll give it a try and report back in a week or two. 

A reflection on working hard

A few weeks ago we explored the topic of laziness, and how it helps us, "...save ourselves from our own and others' abstract notions of what is good." Far from a pure vice, laziness has a utility all its own, both in terms of productivity and life satisfaction.

With that said, experience suggests that at times, there are few things more satisfying than a little hard work. Whether it's knuckling down on a stubborn research paper, or employing some combination of muscle and sinew, few things cure a case of ennui more effectively than an aptly-timed dose of exhilarating labor.

It is perhaps like food, in that as we have an appetite for food, so we also have one for work. At times we are satiated, and at others full. Some folks are never satiated: they must always eat, or always labor.  In either case, a little laziness from time-to-time might do them both good (consider the expression, "I'm hungry, but too lazy to eat").

I raise the issue, because we frequently hear labor and laziness characterized as antagonistic principles of action (or inaction), which constantly divide the world. You're either a maker or a taker, a worker or a good-for-nothing idler; a contributor or a leech.

This has been going on a long time. 2,500 years ago, the Greek fabulist Aesop told the story of a band of industrious ants and an idling grasshopper. For those who don't remember, the story begins in summer. Finding a world of rich and plenty, the grasshopper spends the summer singing and dancing, living off the the fat of the land. Meanwhile, the industrious ants--heeding the words of House Stark--took to the fields to make hay while the long summer sun still shone. Come winter, the ants found themselves in a comfortable position, while the grasshopper found himself a beggar at the ants' doorstep.

The traditional way of interpreting this story is to praise the industry of the ants and deride the idleness of the grasshopper. Beware, it warns, of the perils of improvidence, which leave one hungry when times grow lean. One moralist version from the Renaissance concluded with the remark, "To work today is to eat tomorrow."

It's all very good advice, but maintains the unfounded dualism between laziness and labor; to my mind, we need both if we're to make things work.

Consider the position of the actors in this anthropomorphic drama. In summer, the grasshopper can live however he likes and still make it, because summer is the time of much and plenty. One practically trips over wealth and food whilst carousing under a warm summer sky, all the while singing  praises to "the god of tits and wine." To breathe is to thrive in such circumstances, and our friend grasshopper is a master at that.

Come winter, however, the times grown lean. Great efforts are needed just to subsist, and even that may not prove enough. The margin for error--like poor grasshooper's belly--grows slim, and minor mistakes in summer turn into catastrophes in winter.

The ants of the story hedge against this reality by gathering while the gathering is good. They work hard over the summer so they can spend the winter calm in the knowledge their margin for error is great. I like to think (if they were cheery ants anyway) that they spend the cold months pursuing interests, playing music for each other, and creating things of cultural interest and value. And barring that, I like to think the ants let themselves be a little lazy here and there; that they sleep soundly, rising refreshed and eager at dawn, ready to smile on a new day knowing all their basic needs are met. That their investments and hard work give them flexibility to live free, satisfying lives, in which they can make art and give their children all the love they deserve.

Not all ants will be like this. Some will work all winter too. They'll spurn culture and, purposely or otherwise, neglect the emerging generation. They'll preach an ideology of greed and ceaseless labor, and lambaste any who dare work less than them. So often they'll act from a position of indignation or fear, and perhaps never take satisfaction from the hard work they endlessly perform.

Laziness and labor are not antagonists, but opposites which support and nourish each other. Laziness keeps us from overzealotry, while labor in fat times can increase our freedom in lean ones. Each--laziness and labor--help us meet needs, be they basic to subsistence, or a life of laughter and love. Even in the moment, hard work is not always a dirge, just as laziness--far from a source of ensured happiness--can quite literally "bore us to death."

So let's celebrate these two qualities as the partners they are, rather than the rivals they're so often made out to be.

Average is over, Luddites, and America's Broken Bootstraps: an extended reflection

In a 2012 column in the New York Times entitled "Average is Over," Thomas Friedman argues: 

"In the past, workers with average skills, doing an average job, could earn an average lifestyle. But, today, average is officially over. Being average just won’t earn you what it used to. It can’t when so many more employers have so much more access to so much more above average cheap foreign labor, cheap robotics, cheap software, cheap automation and cheap genius. Therefore, everyone needs to find their extra — their unique value contribution that makes them stand out in whatever is their field of employment. Average is over."
According to Friedman, technology, automation, a hyper-connected world, and growing competition from abroad all contribute to an increasingly demanding world for those looking to earn a living and sustain themselves. Over and over he repeats: "average is over," and that sustaining lifestyles which once came easy will increasingly demand more. 

In a column from the same newspaper earlier this month, Paul Krugman expresses "sympathy for the Luddites," a broad term encompassing, "a member of any of various bands of workers in England (1811–16) organized to destroy manufacturing machinery, under the belief that its use diminished employment" (Source).

As quoted by Mr. Krugman, many petitioners at the time asked, "'How are those men, thus thrown out of employ, to provide for their families?...And what are they to put their children apprentice to?'"

While Mr. Krugman admits the mechanization of British industry in the late 18th century eventually raised living standards for citizens in general, he argues that current trends are different from those affecting the early Luddites. According to Krugman, "conventional wisdom" today holds that increasingly higher levels of education shield one from job losses associated with automation and global competition. Yet citing research from the International Labor Organization and The McKinsey Global Institute, Krugman suggests the notion that education protects employment and income is flawed: that not only is labor's share of profits falling, but also that technology is advancing so quickly that many skilled professions may soon be replaced by machines and computers. So while we can "educate" ourselves and learn an in-demand skill, the window during which that skill is remunerative may prove very small indeed.

These points all bring us to a column published today by George Will in the Washington Post, entitled "America's Broken Bootstraps." Much like Messrs Friedman and Krugman, Mr. Will admits to an "increasingly demanding world," from which he argues that in such circumstances, inequality of wealth, income, and education all become exacerbated. Citing Brink Lindsey of the Cato Institute, Mr. Will claims this is due to the increasing complexity of society, which "...intensifies the demands on mental abilities," and lead, "People [to] invest increasingly in human capital — especially education — because status and achievement increasingly depend on possession of the right knowledge."


At the root of his argument, Mr. Will points to what seems to be a very important (and often torn) thread of America's bootstraps: the family. From the start, Will brings out Friedrich Hayek's argument from "The Constitution of Liberty" (1960) that "...families are the primary transmitters of human capital — habits, mores, education," and that, "...families, much more than other social institutions or programs, are determinative of academic and vocational success." Later Mr. Will cites Lindsey again, who relates research suggesting, "'...by the time they reach age 3, children of professional parents have heard some 45 million words addressed to them — as opposed to only 26 million words for working-class kids, and a mere 13 million words in the case of kids on welfare.'" Explicitly then, Will argues that family matters; implicitly, that the institution is broken, and plays a part in the inequality we see in society today.


Will raises some interesting points. Chief among them is the notion that context - particularly one's immediate and local context - can have a large influence on one's future trajectory. Where a family lives, how it engages with its children, and what sorts of habits it inculcates in the young, all play a role in development and attitudes toward life. On 18 June, ScienceDaily summarized a paper in the International Journal of Obesity which found that, "Kids whose moms encourage them to exercise and eat well, and model those healthy behaviors themselves, are more likely to be active and healthy eaters." Engaged role-models do seem to provide an advantage for children, one that often grows enormously over time. If average is really over, as Mr. Friedman suggests, then these are the children who should thrive in a future of increasingly limited opportunities for anyone but the brightest and/or best placed. 


Yet I also find Mr. Will's argument problematic, as I do most "bootstrap" arguments. Context is important, but little is made in them of individual potential. Mr. Will begins his column with a couplet from an old colonial almanac reading, "All men are by nature equal, but differ greatly by the sequel." Yet in terms of nature and nurture, it seems this cannot be true. And yes, nature-nurture does not play out as a dualism in reality, but as an interaction where each affects the other. Be that as it may, everyone is born with different genetic predispositions and potentials; and as Mr. Will's column makes clear, different environments. There is also the biological effect of past generations on their off-spring. Consider for instance the off-spring of survivors of the Dutch famine of 1944, who were born smaller than average, and proved "...more susceptible to diabetes, obesity, cardiovascular disease, mircroalbuminuria, and other health problems" (Source). As it turns out, the grandchildren of those survivors also experienced such problems. Mr. Will makes clear "the sequel" is different (and decisive) for everyone, but can we really say then that "all men are by nature equal," even from a biological perspective? 


Whatever the potential one has, however, a stimulating, engaging context is where it is likely to emerge and be met. I actually suspect, for better and worse, that almost no one reaches these levels. But I also think Will's argument, while acknowledging an increasingly demanding world, does not address how the United States (or any country) and its citizens will continue to grow and prosper in a world with so few remunerative opportunities. 
So what are we to do, faced as we are with these potentially-looming problems? In his column discussed above, Paul Krugman almost gives up on the issue, advocating for, "...a strong social safety net, one that guarantees not just health care but a minimum income, too. And with an ever-rising share of income going to capital rather than labor, that safety net would have to be paid for to an important extent via taxes on profits and/or investment income."


On the other hand, Thomas Friedman argues that:
"... the world does not care what you know. Everything is on Google. The world only cares, and will only pay for, what you can do with what you know...We’re moving to a more competency-based world where there will be less interest in how you acquired the competency — in an online course, at a four-year-college or in a company-administered class — and more demand to prove that you mastered the competency."

In this vein, Mr. Friedman supports new avenues through which valued skills can be acquired, assessed, and credential; that while the current university model has value, the grades and diplomas these institutions award may no longer be sufficient signals for employers to judge employee competence. If someone learns how to code by watching online lectures and practicing on their own, let's offer them a way to get credentialed that doesn't require university attendance and tuition.

From George Will's column we get not so much a proposal as a prognosis. A complex world, he believes, leaves many behind, and those it does can't catch up because America's boot-straps are broken. Kids from working-class and welfare-recipient families are developmentally behind their professional-led family peers as soon as age 3, and the gap only rises as "assortative mating" (like marrying like) concentrates class advantages and exacerbates inequality. Clearly a college education has earning-power advantages, but college students today study only half as long as their peers in 1961, and universities go easy on them anyway, in that half of students today take classes where less than 20 pages of writing is required of them. Those who succeed are those who master today's complexity, and those who have the right family more often than not fall into this category. 


Mr. Will makes a good point regarding socioeconomic status, but his point is nothing new. I think Mr. Krugman gives up too easily, settling for an enhanced safety-net and a minimum income for all while discounting the possibility that revolutions in automation and innovation might one day spur revolutions in labor, and the means by which individuals and families sustain themselves. Who knows, perhaps automation will compel people to take greater care of the money they have, investing more of it in assets that accrue value over time rather than lose it. I'm personally sympathetic to the early-retirement/financial independence movement espoused by Mr. Money Mustache and others, who advocate saving and investing large percentages of one's yearly income until such time as one's passive income equals or exceeds one's expenses. It's not an easy path, but seems to build real wealth for those who manage it. A job becomes a luxury rather than necessity, which could be an advantage in a jobs-poor, automation-rich future world. 

Which is changing, and fast. Average is seemingly over. Education is becoming essential, and increasingly expensive. What you can do matters more than what you know, and perhaps who you know and who your parents were matter even more. It is a complicated issue, touching subjects as diverse as immigration, healthcare, and education. I don't know where the world is going, but I like to think we'll find a way to make it work. We'll need to be creative probably, and optimistic too. I expect many people in school today will work jobs someday that don't yet exist. We shall see where this goes.

Useful Websites: Salman Khan's "Khan Academy"

About 9 months ago, I stumbled upon a list of websites a blogger found useful for homeschooling his children. I was curious and checked them out one by one. Most were tacky, or cutesy and made for younger folks (makes sense). I suspect most would actually fit well into a home-school curriculum for an elementary to middle-school aged child, with games, quizzes, and instant feed-back. One website, however, caught my attention, and has held it ever since. 

It's called Khan Academy, a non-profit educational web-service founded by Salman Khan in 2006. Originally an analyst at a hedge-fund, Mr. Khan began his education career tutoring cousins over long distance using Yahoo! doodle pad. He then put these tutorials on Youtube, which grew so popular that he eventually quit his hedge-fund job and started making video tutorials full-time. Ranging from basic arithmetic to differential calculus, geometry, algebra, statistics, chemistry, biology, physics, finance, healthcare, programming, astronomy, history, test-prep, and more, the website has over 4,200 video tutorials and exercises, all available for free. 

I have personally reviewed videos relating to statistics and chemistry while taking those classes, and found them exceedingly helpful. The format allows for self-paced learning, such that one can repeat videos as many times as needed, and go back and review older concepts that did not stick the first time. I remember taking physics several years ago, and finding how costly forgetting certain algebra and trig rules could be when the subjects became complex. Being able to go back and review those concepts might have made a huge difference. Now that I know about the resource and use it frequently, I feel more confident taking on challenging classes in the fields of science and mathematics. 

Now some may argue that video lectures are a form of dehumanizing education, but Mr. Khan makes a convincing argument to the contrary. If anything, he says, video tutorials actually humanize education, because they "flip the classroom," making more time available in class for individualized attention. When he says "flip the classroom," he means having most of the lecturing done at home, while having what is traditionally considered "homework" done in class, with peers and teachers close at hand to advise, direct, and answer questions. Within this model, the "one-size-fits-all" lecture is done through a video tutorial that can be repeated as many times as need be, and linked to other tutorials on related or important concepts (such as algebra and trig functions from my example with physics). By taking most of the lecturing out of the school day, more time is then available for interaction and applied problem-solving. 

It's an interesting concept, and I'll be curious to see how it pans out in time (check on this youtube video for a 2011 talk by Mr. Khan on the subject). But the main reason I'm writing about this eminently useful website is just that...it's useful! Given time, an internet connection, and some patience, one can teach themselves all the mathematics most of us will ever want to know (or if current labor-market trends continue, need to know), or gain  an enlarged understanding of some of the major fields of human inquiry today. As a tool for school-aged kids, it's like having a first-rate tutor available on demand...for free. For adults who want or need to go back to school, it can serve a similar function. So if you're struggling with a math, science, finance, or economics (or humanities, though I haven't examined those videos closely as yet), or just feel like learning something new, Khan Academy is a fun, free, and effective tool for meeting those needs.