father of meta-analysis

Gene Glass, the father of meta-analysis, gave a talk on campus yesterday. I went mainly so I could say I had laid eyes upon this icon. He was the advisor for a good colleague in the Ed Leadership department. I was inspired and moved, something I had not expected to happen.

He began by describe his intellectual forefathers of the 1950s. Those psychometric specialists believe they had won World War II. They designed the assessments used for sorting enlistees into pilots or cooks or infantrymen. Since those young men went forth and defeated the was all the evidence the nerds needed. After the war, they were confident that their brilliance could be used for improving education. Gene Glass not only sees the foolishness of this, but he confessed that his expectation that meta-analysis would save the day was naive. His word: naive.

He was adamant about the dangers of attaching ourselves to manufactured crises in education. He also gave very well reasoned critiques of international comparisons based upon standardized tests. He also decried the super-secrecy of the items used to compare children, cities, and nations. He once asked for six sample items so he could compare the German vs. English versions of reading passages. He is bilingual and wanted to see whether those were comparably difficult questions. Not only did the testing company refuse, but it was a former advisee who made that decision.

Now he had me. Standing before us was a pillar of educational research excellence -- confessing that we were stuck. He asked why 50 years of educational research has not produced COMMANDING ANSWERS – which he described as answers that were so powerful that they commanded implementation. He did not answer this question. I audaciously asked him to bring his talk back around to educational research. He was contrite but never did. When pressed, he revealed that there are two things that he believes are the crucial and maybe only true influences upon students’ learning. What would you expect from someone who edits a policy journal and was elected president of AERA when he was just 35 years old? Get this: teachers and curriculum. I was stunned and uplifted.

Because I didn’t RSVP to the talk (just showed up), I was not the beneficiary of a free copy of his new book. I stopped at a bookstore last night but they didn’t have a copy. Since his talk was based upon that material, and it is somewhat the a memoir of a man nearing the end of a distinguished career, I looked it up online. Here’s the blurb:

In Fertilizers, Pills, and Magnetic Strips, Gene V Glass analyzes how a few key technological inventions changed culture in America and how public education has changed as a result. Driving these changes are material self-interest and the desire for comfort and security, both of which have transformed American culture into a hyper-consuming, xenophobic society that is systematically degrading public education.

Since blogs tap into narcissistic behavior, now that I have also discovered that Dr. Glass had his book published by the same company with which we have a contract, not only am I proud to have ours appear in the same catalog, but I even wonder how simple it would be to extract a jacket blurb. Perhaps I need to make another effort to write even one new ¶ for that project.

a whole lotta love

Since "love" was so prevalent in term and tone at Crossroads IV, I wondered how much love there was in my daily soundtrack. This was something I did a few days ago but the essay about a personal theme music obliged me to create this posting. On the one hand, I did find a lot of love. What remains unclear is whether that is typical.

I searched my iTunes library for songs including "love" in the title. I deleted the poems and Lyle Lovett -- except for his four titles that contained love. Grand total: 90. That is equal to 6 hours and 20 minutes of love. That'd be love for a long time. Not bad, I'd say. But in terms of my entire library, that's only 3%. Okay, a life that contains only three percent love hardly seems like a live worth living. Is that typical? I guess I've turned the question of love into an empirical study. I'll have to ask others. Meanwhile, other tallies:

• 28 "heart" titles,
• 12 "God" titles (I guess I'm a musical pantheist?),
• 18 "angels" (4 orginating in Montgomery),
  
• 11 "mind" titles,
• 5 "hand" titles (dig the horns and bass line on Keep Your Hands to Yourself),
• 8 "sugar" titles,
• 6 "beers" (3 of which also include 1 bourbon and 1 scotch),
• 57 "baby" titles,
• and just the 1 "Lo Mein."

all that matters

Back in the 1970s we had a complete set of beige c0lored World Book Encyclopedias in our living room. I remember thinking how cool it would be if my name might appear in there someday. It wasn't as if I had an inkling about what was required to have an entry. Now I realize I might be able to pull that off if I was a reviewer or consultant. One line -- not exactly a dream realized. This childhood recollection came to mind as I thought about celebrity and the appeal of being known.

I believe that life would be good if I was occasionally the recipient of applause and recognition, especially if each time it caught me by surprise. And I think that these moments provide assurance that I matter, even if just as the cause of a smile. While I don't aspire to the form of celebrity that requires running a gauntlet of photographers just to go out and buy cat food, it is important to have scraps of evidence that my existence matters. Perhaps that is why encourages and entices our merry band of colleagues -- the ambition to leave a mark that makes others' lives a small measure better. The was the message of It's A Wonderful Life and to be reminded of this other than during the winter holidays is reassuring. My favorite biology professor once quipped during a lecture that maybe being remembered beyond the days in which we are alive is as close as we can get to immortality.

Last evening as I made the transition from the computer to the bed, I sat down to read the interview of Billy Collins. It was startling how familiar it was until I reminded myself that I'd heard the actual recording of the exchanges. Yet there was something magical about having it all appear in black and white (photos too!). When I reached the section where teaching was being discussed, especially the statement "that would be interesting to hear, too" I had to shut the magazine and press it to my chest. I did this subconsciously. I report it here, not to be theatrical, because my mind was awash in amazement and delight and awe. These sensations were so powerful that I could not continue reading.

The brightness of this morning helps identify the cause for the emotional rush (part can be attributed to the generous inscription to me by the article's author). I felt I was being transported to the extra chair just beyond the camera's scope. The transcendence came about because I was witnessing a genuine connection between two important individuals. Not just because one was a laureled poet and the other a purveyor of physics to local schoolchildren. Instead, it was the authenticity of the exchange that had the give and take, the lead and follow, of a good jazz duo. I stopped reading in part because I was overwhelmed by witnessing people working toward the utopian groove that Stanley Crouch describes. Yes, I was feeling that level of astonishment. Beyond being stunned by the jamming repartee, my hands closed the volume because I was not ready to follow it until it was over. I want to savor the moment.

There were two celebrities involved -- three since I ought to include the photographer. What they were doing, what was being made, what was being captured for all time -- all of those mattered. More than a ripple, this interview and accompanying article are real. In addition, the article itself matters because it captured a magical moment, to say nothing about the content of the exchange. It feels like sunshine in a bottle. It waits for me to return. This is not some obscure literary effort in minor college publication. Instead, it is an object and an event that truly matters. Immortality or maybe as close to perfection as I should reasonably expect to witness.

a little flare up

My Tuesday, once-a-month class is going really well. This week, I had 6 teachers who came in and discussed with small groups two chapters of Bill Ayers' latest book and engaged my future teachers in a consideration of their identity. Pretty heady stuff. I capped the evening off by reading Like Lily Like Wilson which ended the class with applause. Not bad for a class of 100 juniors.

This afternoon I was flipping through Derrick Bell's Ethical Ambition which I knew would resonate with our other adventures. After all, the chapters include "The Power in Passion," "Courage and Risk Taking" and "Advancing Relationships." Not bad from the same guy who coined "critical race theory" as a legal scholar. I am sure more will come of this. But that's for another day.

In his introduction, he describes situations in which he walked away from positions because his institution would not respond in moral ways to hiring qualified minorities. I wondered whether I would have his fortitude. But I also questioned whether I have been putting myself in situations that might even raise those as possibilities. Then tonight, I received an email from one of my junior questioning the decision to bring Bill Ayers to campus.

She correctly describes his hi-jinks during the Viet Nam Era. I have replied explaining that universities are places where many perspectives are examined but without necessarily endorsing any particular view. But I think there's more to her concern than appears on the surface. I suspect she's being coached or influenced by someone she admires who has right-wing leanings. Maybe it will all fizzle between now and our next class which will occur after the election. If my email was not enough to soothe the situation then it will be interesting to see where this goes. And by that, I mean the "leadership" might decide to rescind the Ayers lecture in December. I'm not itching for trouble and yet I wonder if this is the flare up that might be my test.

sometimes we're alone

There are so many ways to "be" in this world. Of course, there are ways to be just like everyone else. For those who step outside of the norms in terms of tastes and talents, there are countless ways to be unique. One way this is accomplished within the circle of people I know is that they reside at the overlap and intersection of otherwise disconnected ways of being. One example is a multicultural scholar who plays competitive baseball on weekends. Another is a software designer and physicist who is also a concert cellist. Such individuals are also great story-tellers. Or maybe they just intrigue me because they have interesting experiences that I receive as good stories.

Here's a short biography that popped up when I was listening to last.fm this morning:

Jim White is a Southern Gothic alt-country singer-songwriter. He has released three albums as a solo artist.

It's no surprise that he's a solo artist: "Southern" and "Gothic"? It is remarkable that he has released three albums. Amazon.com demonstrates that these are commercial releases. And more gold -- check out these titles:

Drill A Hole In That Substrate and Tell Me What You See
Wrong Eyed Jesus
Transnormal Skiperoo

I don't know whether I like or don't like his voice or songs. But he has won my deep admiration for forming a new genre at the crossroads of an unimaginable confluence of styles. I hope his non-work life is more socially rich and that he takes some comfort in watching The Simpsons and eating at Pizza Hut. There has to be a way for him to find some balance.

bento conference

Advice I would offer to those entering the profession: do not go to your main conference each year. There is reason to believe that many would welcome someone granting this permission. On the other hand, others might be startled to hear that the annual conference is not the be-all and end-all of career advancement. Decrying tradition is simple — offering a reasonable substitute is the challenge. After all, Dewey wrote in Experience & Education:

In short, the point I am making is that rejection of the philosophy and practice of traditional education [or conference] sets a new type of difficult educational problems for those who believe in the new type of education [or conference].

Having imagined that one might skip a year, the next step is knowing what should fill that void. To assuage guilt, my suggestion is to engage in a parallel experience. Those of us who have played hooky have done so by NOT doing what occurs during the formal conference. I worry that this outright rejection and defiance neglects the tangible benefits of being in conference mode. On an "off" year, individuals could still be conferencing even if they are not on-site. The idea is to put them in that mode by shutting themselves off from others during a Friday afternoon or even going to their campus office on a Saturday morning. My proposal is to create something tangible to assist this transition: a Conference-in-a-Box.

What I am imagining is an academic equivalent of a bento box. Inside would be a complete kit that would be artfully arranged. As you read through this list, you'll see I haven't worked this all the way through. If I were a graphic designer, I would build an online image wherein each compartment was a clickable link to the bulleted items. Or there would be a physical box that individuals could order online. I like the latter especialy with the idea that the participant would not actually dive in until the appointed time of their alt-conference. Below I list the components of a traditional conference with links to the substitutes.

• Conference Website: Although someone has already purchased rights to alt-conference.org one could secure alt-conference.net for a small fee. Or maybe just append it to an existing site. Not sure how this is done but it wouldn't seem to be an outrageous task.
  
• Keynote Speaker. I am tempted to provide a link to a Crossroads presentation. But instead, I believe some fresh alternative could be worthwhile: (a) minimally invasive education with Sugata Mitra, (b) the Harlem Children's Zone with Geoff Canada, and/or (c) algebra as a civil rights matter according to Bob Moses.
  
• Conference Banquet: The meal seems to be a signature of the annual conference. One could buy or make a device so you could see yourself within a large kaleidoscope -- creating the effecting of eating with others. And of course the meal would be included.
• Conference Pencil: Even though it might seem difficult to imagine five gross of golf pencils, the price per item makes it seem less than outrageous to include these in the box. And if you really wanted to wear a name badge, there has to be some of the cheap stick-on types in your department's office supply cabinet.

At this moment, I sense that an appropriate cycle would be two years on and one year off. Many logical reasons could be offered that would encourage people to not attend the annual conference: expense, time, ratio of wasted time (esp. travel) relative to benefits, carbon footprint, etc. My suspicion is that many go ahead and make the annual trek out of fear or obligation. Perhaps with the help of a modest fee and a modicum of legitimacy, the concept of an alt-conference would not only kick the big conference in the shins but would also provide the inspiration and support that would actually make a difference.

Is it too much to imagine creating a prototype by April 2009?

j- is the next thing

It's one thing to stay up with the latest trends. To be ahead of the curve is an entirely different breed of genius -- and something to which I aspire. Let it be known that in the near future, the prefix "j" will be at the front of the next generation of super-cool devices. Just as "e" was the hot prefix in the recent past and "i" seems to announce the best gadgets in 2008, the era of "j" is around the corner. That this is the first letter of this author's first name may or may not be a coincidence. Regardless, when the current obsession with iPod and iMac and iPhone is shoved aside by the "j" one shouldn't be startled.

Long ago steam was the most wicked cool new technology. Everything that amazed and astonished was connected to this wet water vapor. Choo-choo trains and other steam powered equipment, now clunky and oversized, were modern marvels in their time. Part of this may have been the mult-sensory features of steam power: the thick vapor, the intense heat, and the still distinctive whistle (see a winsome reminder in this short video clip). And although I cannot find a credible citation, somewhere I read that the disputed meaning behind steam beer was a signal that it was being brewed witih modern methods. The implication is that "steam" in the late 1890s was equivalent to "digital" in the 1990s. Will it be the jMobile or the jTube or jWeb? I suspect it shant be long before we find out.

from Sputnik to 2061

The modern era of science education can be bracketed by two space events. On the left side of the timeline was the launch of Sputnik. Less than two feet in diameter, this man-made satellite shook the world in October of 1957. At the right-hand end of our timeline is the July return of Halley's Comet in 2061, the year in which the famous AAAS reform is to have reached fruition. What an astonishing amount of time falls between these two events. An online calculator revealed that there will be 37,918 days between the two. While we might recognize that this covers more than a century, when reduced to days the time seems unimaginable.

Over such a considerable span of time, one would expect that great improvements in science education would have occurred. Even with incremental changes, the passage of years should reveal advances that would be worth celebrating. At what point in the stream of time would we expect to dip in to observe the improvements? Surely not just a few years after Sputnik's orbit even though that was an era of profound activity. Perhaps the halfway point would be the right moment, exactly 18,959 days after Sputnik's flight and exactly 18,959 days prior to Halley's closest approach to our planet. Wouldn't that be a wondrous time to see how far we've come?

The sad news is that this midway point coincides with the start of the next school year -- August 31, 2009 to be exact. It's a Monday, one week before Labor Day. School will probably be in session. For the more fortunate children, they may experience some science that day. But wouldn't one think we would have made greater advances by now? The theme of this spring's science education research conference is Grand Challenges and Great Opportunities in Science Education. So I suppose, all hope is not lost. The grand challenges remain and the great opportunity sits between now and the next school year. One question is what would be required to make genuine progress that is more than a slogan.

Years ago I was taught a trick to find the center of gravity for a long stick. I start with my index fingers at opposite ends and gradually slide them toward the center. When one finger is sufficiently centralized, the unbalanced weight allows the further out finger to slide in. Eventually, my fingers will meet at the center and that pivot point is where everything hangs in the balance. The talk I'm imagining would have the title "Between Sputnik's Launch and Halley's Return: Grand Challenges at the Crossroads." Perhaps others will be startled by how fast time has gone by and how little progress has been made. Not that 2061 is a magical date. But since modern science education reform is halfway to that way-station, it seems imperative to renew our commitments.

running low

Among all who attended the recent meeting, a common thread was the challenges associated with balancing myriad demands. Perhaps this is because life in general is busy. Or maybe the world of education and/or academia is sufficiently demanding. If the latter is true, it is probably because we have some many opportunities along with so much control over that which we choose. A friend at work nominated this as "agency." I have had other jobs where the pressure was low and the boredom was high. Now, on the busiest of days, I wish I was back in Missouri holding a hose and watering trees -- even though I remember standing there dying to be done so I can finally take my place at the front of a classroom.

I have begun to wonder whether those at the meeting were from a special segment of the population that finds itself over-extended. In noble moments it may be that we are among those whose dedication and devotion is so strong that we have a difficult time being complacent because some task needs to be completed. On the other hand, maybe it is hard to sit still and enjoy what surrounds us. It's almost as if we treat relaxation as a curse or a sign of immorality.

In the relative calm and peace of a darkened house, even as my body gives in, first to a virus and now to NyQuil, I realize that I have run out of steam and ink. Intellectually I recognize when my peers have over-extended themselves and emotionally I feel torn about not knowing how to help. But for now, the micro-biological part of my life has taken control.