Earlier this week a professor who taught at Williams while I was there (I never had him) wrote a provocative takedown of graduate education in the New York Times. I've written before about some of the problems he identifies-- hyper-specialization being the main one.
I mostly agree with Taylor's diagnosis of the problems, though I think they're less relevant to the hard sciences and than they are to the humanities and the social sciences, and they don't really apply to professional schools (medicine, law, etc.). However, most of his solutions strike me as wishful thinking. I would love to see tenure go away, but it seems like one of those institutions, like the Electoral College, that only a major crisis with dislodge. I think he also vastly overestimates the potential of teleconferencing and the internet; there are just too many advantages to flesh-and-blood interaction. Solutions 4 and 5, modernizing the dissertation and preparing grad students for something other than academic self-replication, seem like the most realistic ideas and the ones most likely to make an immediate difference.
It also occurred to me that we still need increasing specialization; it just can't be the be-all and end-all. To some extent, creeping hyper-specialization is an inevitable consequence of the expansion of human knowledge. John Maynard Keynes engaged with a much wider swath of economics than contemporary economists (with a few exceptions) partly because there was a lot less economics to know back then. I think what academia needs are better and more creative ways of managing the necessary tension between interdisciplinarity and specialization. Our stodgy system of rigid departments and neglected interdisciplinary programs goes too far in one direction; I suspect Mark Taylor's "complex adaptive network" with "problem-focused programs" goes too far the other way.
Tomorrow I'm off to my weekend in Copenhagen, or as the Danes call it, København. I've read that the Danes are the happiest people on Earth, according to survey data, so maybe I'll learn a thing or two about what makes them so cheery. I bet it's the pastries. Støked!
Showing posts with label random stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random stuff. Show all posts
30 April 2009
21 April 2009
every country by 35?
If you think I'm a voracious traveler, check out this guy. But hey, I've been to Chad and he hasn't, so I've got something on him!
And now, back to my regularly scheduled reign of terror.
And now, back to my regularly scheduled reign of terror.
28 January 2009
the fulbright lives!
I've been in essay-writing mode pretty much since I got back to Cambridge, and in the process of writing one of those essays I made a rather unexpected discovery. The essay in question was for my class on Globalization, Big Business and Developing Countries, which I mentioned in my ode to Peter Nolan. The topic was whether large firms in developing countries could "catch up" to their multinational, Western-based rivals, and I wrote on Jollibee, a Filipino fast food chain that has trounced McDonald's in head-to-head competition. Fast food in itself is not a topic that I get especially excited about, but Jollibee does appeal as a David and Goliath story, and one of the things I have realized in this course is just how similar the dynamics of business are across different industries. Here's my brother Casey with a statue of the Jollibee mascot at the restaurant next to my former apartment building (sorry Casey, I cropped you out of the photo for the version I put in my essay):
At one point in the paper I needed some statistics on migration from the Philippines because I was discussing Jollibee's strategy of targeting its overseas stores in locations where there are lots of Filipino expats. Instead of going on a tedious search for the data I needed, I decided to cite my own paper from the Fulbright. (The Development Studies program is actually keen on us citing our own previous work.) And in the process of googling my own paper, I made a pleasantly unexpected discovery: my paper has been cited in several articles and books. I wrote it explicitly for a policy audience, rather than an academic one; before I left Manila I presented it to a bunch of government agencies and NGOs and then assumed it disappeared into the memory hole after that.
This finding did make me feel a pang of regret for not trying to get some version of the paper published in a journal, especially because one of the academics who used it had e-mailed me while I was in Alaska and said he thought I could get it published. (I felt even worse at the beginning because I thought I remembered him offering to help me with that, but I checked our e-mail correspondence and found that he hadn't actually offered any help, just his opinion that there was publishable stuff in there.) I should mention that sending the paper isn't as simple as its sounds; it would have required several days of work. There wasn't really time while I was still in the Philippines, and I did think about resurrecting the project from time to time while I was in Alaska, but when would I have had the time then?
At any rate, I'm happy that my report has been useful to somebody. I always thought my year in the Philippines was an enormous success as a cultural exchange and pretty indifferent as an academic venture, but this tips the balance a little more in the positive direction for the latter.
At one point in the paper I needed some statistics on migration from the Philippines because I was discussing Jollibee's strategy of targeting its overseas stores in locations where there are lots of Filipino expats. Instead of going on a tedious search for the data I needed, I decided to cite my own paper from the Fulbright. (The Development Studies program is actually keen on us citing our own previous work.) And in the process of googling my own paper, I made a pleasantly unexpected discovery: my paper has been cited in several articles and books. I wrote it explicitly for a policy audience, rather than an academic one; before I left Manila I presented it to a bunch of government agencies and NGOs and then assumed it disappeared into the memory hole after that.
This finding did make me feel a pang of regret for not trying to get some version of the paper published in a journal, especially because one of the academics who used it had e-mailed me while I was in Alaska and said he thought I could get it published. (I felt even worse at the beginning because I thought I remembered him offering to help me with that, but I checked our e-mail correspondence and found that he hadn't actually offered any help, just his opinion that there was publishable stuff in there.) I should mention that sending the paper isn't as simple as its sounds; it would have required several days of work. There wasn't really time while I was still in the Philippines, and I did think about resurrecting the project from time to time while I was in Alaska, but when would I have had the time then?
At any rate, I'm happy that my report has been useful to somebody. I always thought my year in the Philippines was an enormous success as a cultural exchange and pretty indifferent as an academic venture, but this tips the balance a little more in the positive direction for the latter.
20 November 2008
mental health break (7th-grade knowledge of French helpful)
If only my trip to France went like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5hrUGFhsXo
My favorite line is "bonjour, mon petit bureau de change."
My favorite line is "bonjour, mon petit bureau de change."
10 November 2008
scoundrels!
i. Guy Fawkes -- The night after the election was Guy Fawkes night in England. If you've seen V for Vendetta, you may recall that the character "V" wore a mask modeled after Guy Fawkes, and you may also recall a little rhyme that starts out like this: "Remember, remember, the fifth of November / The Gunpowder Treason and plot / I can think of no reason the Gunpowder Treason / Should ever be forgot."
The objective of the plot in question was to assassinate King James I and blow up the Houses of Parliament in London, in response to the anti-Catholism of the Crown and the government. It failed, and the conspirators were executed. Fawkes was not the ringleader of this band of 17th-century Catholic terrorists, but he was the one caught with the explosives, so it is his name that has gone down in history.
Naturally, Fawkes is remembered here as the villain, not the hero, of 5 November. Today Guy Fawkes night is marked with fireworks, bonfires, and burning effigies of Fawkes. By now the night has lost most of its original political content and is basically an excuse for pyrotechnics and merrymaking. I attended the festivities in Cambridge, still in an exhausted stupor from the election all-nighter. It's a pretty big production here, with roughly 20,000 people crammed onto Midsummer Common and all manner of carnival rides, games, and booths. When you're so engrossed in university life, it's easy to forget that people actually live in Cambridge, so I was glad to share in a local and national tradition.
ii. Oliver Cromwell -- Craving some solitude on Saturday afternoon, I hopped a train for a short trip to Ely (EE-lee), a small town two stops from Cambridge on the northbound line. (The intermediate stop is a conspicuously landlocked placed called Waterbeach.) Ely is famous primarily for its magnificent cathedral, which I did visit, and slightly less famous for being the home of Oliver Cromwell when he launched his political career. If you're not familiar with Cromwell -- and I believe most Americans are not -- he's thought to be part of the reason why the Founders of the U.S. initially avoided a strong executive under the Articles of Confederation.
A half-century after the Gunpowder Plot, Cromwell and his associates actually did succeed in killing the King--this time for being too Catholic. He was a member of Parliament and a devout Puritan who thought King Charles I was introducing a little too much pope-ish stuff into the liturgy and suppressing religious liberty. Cromwell became a leader of Parliament's army during the English Civil War and was one of the signers of Charles' death warrant. The country had a brief period of commonwealth government under an ineffectual Parliament, which Cromwell eventually dissolved, making himself "Lord Protector." He wielded near-absolute power for five years until his death. His son Richard took over before a brief spell before England reverted to the old monarchy under Charles II.
I visited Cromwell's house in Ely, which is now a museum. In various rooms you can try on period dress (with helmets!), vote on whether Cromwell was a hero or a villain (roughly 50/50 according to monthly tallies), and view a bizarre replica of Cromwell on his deathbed. Probably the most memorable part of the visit was a book I saw in the gift shop, called Oliver Cromwell's Warts. The double-entendre refers to both the Lord Protector's moral failings and the actual warts that dotted his face. The book jacket provides a wealth of gee-whiz facts about Cromwell, including a claim that he "once attended a party covered in poo." I would love to know that story, but "poo" was not listed in the book's index, and I didn't have time to look the hard way.
One gee-whiz fact about Cromwell that I can verify is the undignified fate of his earthy remains. Since he died before the reinstated monarchy could bring him to justice, Charles II had him exhumed and then posthumously hanged and beheaded. His head eventually came back to Cambridge, his alma mater, where it was reinterred at Sidney Sussex College. This plaque commemorates the occasion. It is said that only the Master of Sidney Sussex and a couple other college bigwigs know the actual location of the head, but I suspect that's a bit of Cambridge lore -- of which there are many -- that might not withstand scrutiny.
The objective of the plot in question was to assassinate King James I and blow up the Houses of Parliament in London, in response to the anti-Catholism of the Crown and the government. It failed, and the conspirators were executed. Fawkes was not the ringleader of this band of 17th-century Catholic terrorists, but he was the one caught with the explosives, so it is his name that has gone down in history.
Naturally, Fawkes is remembered here as the villain, not the hero, of 5 November. Today Guy Fawkes night is marked with fireworks, bonfires, and burning effigies of Fawkes. By now the night has lost most of its original political content and is basically an excuse for pyrotechnics and merrymaking. I attended the festivities in Cambridge, still in an exhausted stupor from the election all-nighter. It's a pretty big production here, with roughly 20,000 people crammed onto Midsummer Common and all manner of carnival rides, games, and booths. When you're so engrossed in university life, it's easy to forget that people actually live in Cambridge, so I was glad to share in a local and national tradition.
ii. Oliver Cromwell -- Craving some solitude on Saturday afternoon, I hopped a train for a short trip to Ely (EE-lee), a small town two stops from Cambridge on the northbound line. (The intermediate stop is a conspicuously landlocked placed called Waterbeach.) Ely is famous primarily for its magnificent cathedral, which I did visit, and slightly less famous for being the home of Oliver Cromwell when he launched his political career. If you're not familiar with Cromwell -- and I believe most Americans are not -- he's thought to be part of the reason why the Founders of the U.S. initially avoided a strong executive under the Articles of Confederation.
A half-century after the Gunpowder Plot, Cromwell and his associates actually did succeed in killing the King--this time for being too Catholic. He was a member of Parliament and a devout Puritan who thought King Charles I was introducing a little too much pope-ish stuff into the liturgy and suppressing religious liberty. Cromwell became a leader of Parliament's army during the English Civil War and was one of the signers of Charles' death warrant. The country had a brief period of commonwealth government under an ineffectual Parliament, which Cromwell eventually dissolved, making himself "Lord Protector." He wielded near-absolute power for five years until his death. His son Richard took over before a brief spell before England reverted to the old monarchy under Charles II.
I visited Cromwell's house in Ely, which is now a museum. In various rooms you can try on period dress (with helmets!), vote on whether Cromwell was a hero or a villain (roughly 50/50 according to monthly tallies), and view a bizarre replica of Cromwell on his deathbed. Probably the most memorable part of the visit was a book I saw in the gift shop, called Oliver Cromwell's Warts. The double-entendre refers to both the Lord Protector's moral failings and the actual warts that dotted his face. The book jacket provides a wealth of gee-whiz facts about Cromwell, including a claim that he "once attended a party covered in poo." I would love to know that story, but "poo" was not listed in the book's index, and I didn't have time to look the hard way.
One gee-whiz fact about Cromwell that I can verify is the undignified fate of his earthy remains. Since he died before the reinstated monarchy could bring him to justice, Charles II had him exhumed and then posthumously hanged and beheaded. His head eventually came back to Cambridge, his alma mater, where it was reinterred at Sidney Sussex College. This plaque commemorates the occasion. It is said that only the Master of Sidney Sussex and a couple other college bigwigs know the actual location of the head, but I suspect that's a bit of Cambridge lore -- of which there are many -- that might not withstand scrutiny.
21 October 2008
stephen hawking: "totally overrated"
I enjoyed this bit of cheeky student humour from Varsity, one of the Cambridge University newspapers. The story is about the announcement of a gigantic bronze sculpture that is being planned to honor Stephen Hawking, the famous Cambridge theoretical physicist who has been almost completely paralyzed by ALS for decades:
The sculpture has sparked debate amongst students. One finds Hawking
underserving of such a tribute: "He seems totally overrated when compared
to, say, Newton." However, a graduate student commented that "he deserves
much more than a paltry 10ft statue."
I passed by Professor Hawking on the street this weekend, which I suspect is the closest I will ever get to having contact with him. As you can imagine, he's one of Cambridge's most famous characters, and he seems to inhabit an intellectual universe that the rest of us can only guess about. You can read his account of his astonishing life with ALS here.
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