In my last post on this issue, I described a problem that rises at least as much from outside perception as from actual abuse: tenure. Here, I want to talk about something that arises from perception internal to academia and fostered by it: authority.
In neither case am I providing solutions to the problems I am trying to outline. My purpose is to spark discussion, not to provide answers.
Those of us who are college professors today have succeeded in an extremely authoritarian, top-dominated system (it has been decades, now, since there was any real attempt to create an alternative). To some degree or another, we are the ones who were willing to bootlick long enough to be allowed to establish our own credentials of authority. And, naturally, having come up that way, we often assume (usually without examining the issue) that this is the best way.
Our authoritarianism is rarely leavened by any sort of training as teachers that might allow us (even) to use it more effectively as part of a larger design. College professors are expected to be subject experts; few are also trained teachers. Our concepts of appropriate classroom behavior and management, therefore, come (for the most part) from our own experience, not from examination of the comparative effectiveness of various carefully delineated and described techniques.
Because of our background, we college professors become credential addicts whether we like it or not. Though I do not like it, when I meet someone who is ABD (“All But Dissertation”) and who is not actively pursuing the dissertation, I look down on them. Just slightly–and I fight the reaction–but it is there. An ABD is just as knowledgeable (generally) in her/his field as is someone who has completed a dissertation (most often a narrowly-focused and specialized work). Both have completed all of the coursework required for the PhD and both have passed whatever qualifying exams the particular department or university requires. Except for the very specialized knowledge represented by the dissertation, what’s the difference between the two?
The answer is best presented by the Wizard in the 1939 movie of The Wizard of Oz
Back where I come from we have universities, seats of great learning where men go to become great thinkers. And when they come out, they think deep thoughts–and with no more brains than you have. But, they have one thing you haven’t got: A diploma!
I get the humor; the sarcasm is right on point. Yet I, even knowing that the distinction is small, still look at those “just” ABD as lacking something. I can’t help it: I was raised in–and have succeeded (to some degree) in–a culture where the credentials mean almost everything.
A great deal of real work and learning also goes along with earning a PhD–and this, too, may be part of the problem. Few people earn a doctorate without real sweat and concentration. By the time you are done, you really know your narrow specialty, generally at a level equaled by only a small few anywhere else in the world. You also know, in excruciating detail, just how much work it takes to get to that level.
Having been involved in detailed research and writing, conversing with those few who are your peers in the particular subject area, it’s understandably easy to react with frustration (or even anger) when someone who has not put in the same amount of time and work comments on your field–generally making a claim that you long ago examined and jettisoned.
Others may see this as disdain for their ideas. Students, for example, may feel insulted by an almost accidental slight coming simply from the fact that, to the professor, the particular idea has long been debunked.
This, like the almost unconscious disdain for an ABD, infects us all in academia, whether we think about it or not. And sometimes it spills over into debates outside of academia–to academia’s detriment.
When it spills out, this is more easily examined. So, let me give two examples.
The first is the question of who wrote the plays and poems of Shakespeare. For centuries, there have been people claiming that Will Shakespeare from Stratford-on-Avon could not have done so. Samuel Clemens was enticed by this possibility. Today, even such non-academic intellectual luminaries such as Lewis Lapham (editor of Harper’s) have entertained doubts about the authority of Shakespeare.
What has been the response of academic Shakespearians? For the most part, nothing. Only recently have they gotten into the debate at all. Scott McCrea’s The Case for Shakespeare: The End of the Authorship Question, for example, appeared just this year from Praeger (my own publisher). In April, 1999, a number of scholars, headlined by Harold Bloom, participated in a Harper’s “Folio” (a grouping of short essays) entitled, “The Ghost of Shakespeare” (“Who, in fact, was the bard: the usual suspect from Stratford: or Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford?”). Beyond these, response from the academic community to the “controversy” has been desultory. It hasn’t seemed a controversy at all to Shakespeare scholars (to them, there never was a question of authority in the first place), so they rarely bother to respond.
The result? A rather useless debate has been kept alive for well more than a century.
Of course, in the larger frame, it doesn’t really matter who wrote Shakespeare’s plays. My second example, however, does matter.
It’s the “new” proposition of “intelligent design.”
As has been true with the question of the authority of Shakespeare, many academics have refused to debate the issue of creationism simply because they have not wanted to give a platform to what they see as an untenable position. Just by debating, the thought has gone, both “theories” are presented as equals–and the academics feel quite strongly that they are not equal. One has both a research and an intellectual pedigree; the other does not. One has authority–academic respectability; the other does not. So they cannot be presented as two sides to one issue, as debate format insists.
Also, the scholars who refuse to debate argue (there’s a good segment on this from NPR last week) that debates themselves add nothing to science (or any other academic knowledge). Nothing can be resolved on a debating platform–it exists completely outside of the requirements of the scientific method or of scholarship in general. Winning a debate does not add to the authority of a position–so why debate? Coming from where the establishment of authority is of paramount importance, this is completely understandable, even though rather unhelpful.
Because evolution is a complex issue, scientists also hesitate to debate its opponents simply because they feel the topic is too involved for explanation in such a forum. In an hour, for one thing, it’s much easier to attack than to defend. As few scientists have bothered to spend the time really looking into “intelligent design” or “creationism,” they can’t attack these ideas nearly as well as their champions can attack evolution, which these latter generally have looked into. Furthermore, if they do break their topic down in such a way that the lay audience can understand, the scholar can be accused of being a “popularizer”–often a kiss of death in academic communities.
Such attitudes on the part of the scientists stems in part from what I described above, from the stupendous amounts of time most PhDs have put into study of their topics. As a result, they see even the most educated lay audience as woefully lacking in even the basic building blocks of the debate. And they don’t feel they have the time (outside of the authoritarian classroom) to provide that knowledge when no scholarly framework exists (making the task all that much more difficult).
Because they did their learning in an authoritarian system, few scholars have really learned how to explain the complex issues they consider to people outside of that system and who have no investment in the system. A student desiring a degree will listen and accept (for the most part) what the professor is saying, ingesting it almost without question. Questioning does come in later but, for all of our emphasis on “critical thinking,” it is generally accepted only within certain well-defined frameworks.
For this reason, a professor debating evolution outside of the academy can be knocked for a loop by questions that seem completely out of the blue. Scholarly authority counts for little outside of the university, and so debaters used to relying on that authority for at least a part of any discussion suddenly find themselves at a distinct disadvantage.
To a smaller degree, we do have similar problems each time we enter a classroom. We professors expect students to accept our authority, limiting debate to issues set up by ourselves. When students step beyond those, we can react poorly. Some of us simply avoid responding (“That doesn’t even deserve consideration”) or brush the question off with sarcasm. Others do try to respond, but few have the time to really consider issues that we find tangential (at best) to the central questions.
It is here that we give an opening to the likes of David Horowitz with his “Academic Bill of Rights” and “Student Bill of Rights.” We find it hard, given our authoritarian backgrounds, to treat seriously ideas that were rejected by our own teachers and that we, in turn, rejected. We want to lead our students down paths that go places, not simply into dead-ends for the exercise of it. For whatever reason, Horowitz wants to break down the current authoritarianism of our universities, giving what he sees as a wider panoply of “viable” theories and points of view.
Now, I feel that what Horowitz is doing is ultimately an attempt to take advantage of one of the weaknesses of our academic system (its dependence on authority) in order to change it into a politically-dominated system–and I want to fight him, every step of the way. At the same time, however, I would like to see those of us in academia begin to examine ourselves a bit more carefully.
Few academics would readily admit that they operate quite happily and successfully as part of a rigid, authoritarian system–and I expect to get a great deal of negative reaction from academics to my assertion that they do. Most of us, in our personal lives, fancy that we eschew authority. Maybe we could really gain by examining why we don’t, in our professional lives.
Maybe.
That’s enough for now. I’ll wait to see what sorts or responses I get to this (here, and on BarBlog and dKos, where I will also post) before continuing.
Interesting. Hmmmm you are shaking my little ivy covered ivory tower.
Yes, authority means a lot to many of us. Many professors do not want to answer student questions, challenges. I love them–what I despise is the whiners who do not challenge me,except on anonymous evaluations. But I teach politics because I love politics ( I have found most Political Scientists don’t even like politics…they try to take away all the fun stuff and turn it into statistics….)
We do not define theory the same way the layman does–hence our problems with Intelligent Design/Creationism. these are not theories, which have been tested and retested and found to have evidence backing their hypotheses. Evolution on the other hand has been tested and retested–we come up with the same conclusions. The basis for gaining knowledge is very different–the layman does not understand this. Divine inspiration is not on the same plane as empirically derived theories. They cannot be debated on the same level–they are apples and plastic apples! They may seem similar, but one is real, the other is made up.
We need to do a better job of explaining what we base our body of knowledge upon. Why we should be listened to. Our authority is not carrying us–indeed, these people reject our authority. They feel they are equals to us in intellectual discussion. We do not. Are we elitists? Of course. But if others go through all that we go through to attain our positions, then they are welcome as equals.
I think you hit a nerve with this academic!!!!
Your comments, however much a nerve might have been hit, are spot on.
I am an ABD, and I absolutely resent the attitude other academics have toward us.
When I was about half-way through my dissertation on the thematic significance of metafictional devices in John Barth’s fiction, I became pregnant with my first child (and no, Barth’s fiction had nothing to do with it). It was a very rough pregnancy and seriously damaged my health. My second child was born just 19 months after the first one, after another rough pregnancy. Then, when my younger child was 20 months old, my professor husband left me for a grad student he had impregnated, and I sank into desperate poverty, so that I had to work three or four jobs all the time just to survive.
I continued teaching freshman-sophomore English during this time, as I still do, and I have never stopped studying and reading, not just in my own narrow field of specialty, but in many other fields, related and unrelated.
My children are adults now. One, who just finished her second year of med school, won a Fulbright Fellowship to do research on child welfare laws in Ireland and to take a higher degree in social policy there starting in September.
Both my children have outstanding academic backgrounds. I devoted myself to raising and educating them and working to keep our heads above water financially, so there just wasn’t anything left over for finishing the dissertation.
Now, after 27 years in the real world (though I still teach college English, raising kids is as “real” as it gets), when I think about the narrow topic of my dissertation I know I could never go back to it. It just isn’t that important. Oh, sure, I am still interested in the topic, but I can’t imagine devoting years of my life to it when so much that is so much more important is going on around me.
There is an old joke about a wealthy woman who died and left her alma mater $10 million, on the condition that they grant her horse a PhD. The university wanted the money, of course, but they feared their reputation would be ruined if they gave a PhD to a horse.
Finally, during an all-university meeting to discuss the issue, a young philosophy professor stood up and declared, “I think the real problem is that we have never before given a PhD to a whole horse.
Your experience is sad. I’ve heard this kind of thing before, and it may continue, until the male life model ceases to be what passes for how doctoral study is supposed to be.
In our doctoral program, women outnumber men quite strongly. Our largely male faculty are concerned about this, but somewhat resigned. Every few years, I propose changing the sequence to fit women’s life sequences a little better (consideration of child bearing, for example, would help a great deal, as would subsidies for child care). Nothing happens, although the arguments against change seem to fall into two categories: WNDITWB to WADITW (We’ve Never Done It That Way Before) and (We’ve Always Done It This Way).
And the lovely habit of supporting students by having them teach up to 3 or 4 sections of undergraduate courses, is a recipe for ensuring delay in progress (pardon my caustic sarcasm, here). It favors the childless, the independently wealthy, the supported by parents, the supported by spouses with good incomes. It is simply exploitation, and wrong.
Frankly, there aren’t enough regular faculty jobs out there for all of the English, History, humanities, name-you-field Ph.D.s produced, either, given that colleges can hire (exploit) cheap labor, like yourself (not your fault, of course). Graduate schools need to limit enrollments, or quit having so much instruction done by grad students and “permanent adjunct/part-timers”. That, of course, will take more public funding, which is very hard to get.
And the sexual relationships between faculty and graduate students continue. Our university has strong policies about these matters. Yet in my department, three such relationships have been explicitly ignored, and two of the faculty actually promoted into supervisory positions.
In my experience during the time I spent teaching as an adjunct, I found that my fellow adjuncts were, for the most part, better teachers than the full-timers–and were often more intellectually curious, as well. Many of these adjuncts were ABD. Others had MAs or MFAs. In terms of learning and ability, they were all the equal of the PhDs. They simply lacked the degree, that’s all.
That’s why I don’t like it when I feel that twinge of superiority, and why I instantly repress it, when I talk to someone and find they are ABD. Intellectually, I know they have as much ability and knowledge (often more) as I. Emotionally, though… well, I did work hard to make sure I did not stay at that stage.
Twenty or thirty years ago, an ABD was considered qualified to do almost anything a PhD could do in an academic setting. They could compete with PhDs for jobs (and sometimes get them), could be promoted, and could earn tenure. Today, that’s almost impossible. We have put more emphasis on the PhD–and why? Simply because there are more PhDs competing for each job, and it’s easy to eliminate one whole class of people (the ABDs) rather than poring over just that many more applications. That’s unfortunate–for I know we are losing the chance to add brilliant thinkers and teachers to our academic faculties simply by using three letters as a dividing line.
I forgot to mention in my previous post that I am one of those long-term adjunct instructors that you mentioned in the first part of this diary. I have taught at the same university since 1972–for such little money that I have had to simultaneously run a home daycare, operate a tailoring/dressmaking business, and do freelance tutoring and editing on the side just to make ends meet.
I am a really good teacher. But I could have been even better all these years if I had been able to focus more on my teaching and less on scrambling to do other jobs to earn enough money to survive.
I would say that you are truly, deeply, completely, profoundly clue free. It is honestly painful to respond to the mass of idiocy you present here. However, I do see that you did take rhetoric because you have mastered logical fallacies and leveraged them. Allow me to point out that while you may know of literature, what you know of science clearly approaches zero.
Prejudicial Language, “few academics would readily admit….”, a range of inductive fallacies, and false dilemma all are given free and open rein in your version of discourse.
So the authoritarian system of scientific thought is getting you down? Could you please name the pinnacle of that authority? Who says a scientific thesis is right or wrong? Please give me the official date of the approval of string theory and note who approved it, as would occur in any hierarchy.
CLUE ONE:
The entire point of tenure and the academy is that there is no single hierarchy. Power is highly distributed.
Science is a network not a hierarchy. Tenure is not a license for a job for life regardless, but protection for those who have long term ideas that fail to come to fruit, or for those with unpopular ideas.
CLUE TWO:
There is no scientific debate about intelligent design because there is no science behind intelligent design.
Academics don’t debate intelligent design because there is no scientific debate. There is a major PR campaign but no factual debate. Is there, in your model, any limit to the partisan hack lunacy that scientists should stop their work to address? Should we all go out and explain that it is gravity and not the will of the Lord that causes the sparrow to fall?
ID may be an appropriate subject for political science, media studies or cultural studies but not geologists or life scientists.
Also, please note no one is debating the Ptolemaic model of the solar system – for the very same reason. It is settled. And the earth is NOT flat. And yes, man has visited the moon.
There are critical fascinating open questions:
http://www.aaas.org/news/releases/2005/0630norman.shtml
Notice intelligent design is not one of these questions. ID is reality-free.
CLUE THREE:
Scientists don’t spend much time explaining because sometimes it is hard to explain.
Read the open questions referenced above. They are difficult to explain because they are complex. This is not post modernists spouting crap to make great works appear beyond the masses. Much of this is actually hard to understand. Quick – explain why string theory is so promising with respect to quantum theory? Why does public key cryptography work? Make it fast and simple.
Point of fact, sometimes great scientist explain, e.g.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/sim-explorer/explore-items/-/0375708111/0/101/1/none/purchase/r
ef%3Dpd%5Fsxp%5Fr0/102-1127629-4368969
CLUE FOUR:
One problem with higher education is that as an increasing percentage of the population goes to college the per-person state and national investment in education is decreasing. So college is paid for by research funds.
Even at Harvard tuition does not cover the entire cost of the student to the institution. Feel free to LOOK THIS UP. See, that is the way data-driven hypothesis rather than rhetorical hypotheses are tested.
Since college tuition is increasingly covered by the research funds by professors not by state and feds paying per student, professors are encouraged to invest more heavily in research and less in teaching.
CLUE FIVE:
The second major problem with universities is that they are being run like “businesses” with the wrong customer.
Teaching that is valued by many students is that which is enjoyed by the students. Teaching easy classes, promising high grades, giving out cookies, and gentle light reading lists are the way for the uncompetitive researcher to rise in the teaching ratings.
If universities were businesses the clients would be the alum, the people who hire the alum, and the nation or state as a whole. All of those people are interested in universities that push, educate and flunk students to maintain the value and meaning of the credential. Even in teaching, the student is not the customer.
So try this thought experiment. Imagine FL universities without tenure. They would be teaching intelligent design. Teaching positions would be so much fluff and patronage to hand out to low level supporters. Loyalty to Jeb Bush would matter most. Katherine Harris would retire from the House to teach policy – and be one of the most qualified in her department. THAT is a hierarchy.
Now imagine Fl universities where the ability to pay tuition were NOT the driver and universities were rewarded (at or above costs) on a per-student basis. Recommendations and class standings give way to bank accounts to determine who attends which school. Imagine some significant percentage flunking, or being transferred to less intensive universities. University credentials would have meaning. Of course, Harvard Business would continue as a finishing school, but each state would have a more effective force for education and creative thought.
So you offer an agenda that would no doubt punish those who you perceive as having hurt you – mean tenured faculty, nasty teachers from the past. But the academy would be hurt even more. If you want to rebuild the academy allow it to return to its soul — education — by returning to a time when such education was truly valued at the bottom line.
Your points are terrific, Red Wagon. Well said!
Red Wagon, I do agree with your substantive comments, but I neglected to say that you start off rather more harshly than I like to see. I do think this diarist is raising some good points – although I disagree with his major thesis, as you do.
Your arguments state your disagreements quite well. But the beginning of your comments may simple make anger rise, rather than leading to consideration of your points, which are excellent. So, I’ll re-define my “well said” to your stuff beyond the opening sentences.
I’ve been walking around all day trying to figure out where to start with my response to this diary. Finally got the kids to bed, only to find out that (once again) someone else has said what I wanted to say, only much better (albeit with more snark). Good points, Red Wagon.
You are right. I was a bit short. I find nothing so frustrating as seeing good people fight the what I see as the wrong battles.
I would like to see increased investment in education. Adjuncts are a symptom of the failure to value educational instruction. Tenure is the wrong fight – the adjuncts should be brought into as fully valued instructors/professors, the professors should not be made as vulnerable as adjuncts.
thanks.
But you aren’t even reading what was written!
Before flying off the handle, take a deep breath and then read what’s there, not what you imagine is there.
I never, never have said that tenure should be abolished. However, it really is in need of reform–as your comment about adjuncts even indicated you are for.
Also, try not to insult without knowledge. What makes you think I harbor resentment against my teachers? That I am out to harm academia? I loved being a student, especially graduate school. And I love teaching.
All I want to do is make what I love better.
Does that deserve the vituperative comments of yours above?
“I would say that you are truly, deeply, completely, profoundly clue free. It is honestly painful to respond to the mass of idiocy you present here. However, I do see that you did take rhetoric because you have mastered logical fallacies and leveraged them. Allow me to point out that while you may know of literature, what you know of science clearly approaches zero.” ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM?! Ouch!
(Innards have turned to quacking jelly, but I venture to raise my hand.) Excuse me, but your CLUE TWO sounds just like Aaron Barlow’s point: “As has been true with the question of the authority of Shakespeare, many academics have refused to debate the issue of creationism simply because they have not wanted to give a platform to what they see as an untenable position. Just by debating, the thought has gone, both “theories” are presented as equals–and the academics feel quite strongly that they are not equal. One has both a research and an intellectual pedigree; the other does not. One has authority–academic respectability; the other does not. So they cannot be presented as two sides to one issue, as debate format insists.”
Yes? But Booman noted a Harris Poll in “Dude, Where’s My Country?,” on Fri Jul 8th, 2005, that shows, “At the same time, approximately one-fifth (22%) of adults believe “human beings evolved from earlier species” (evolution) and 10 percent subscribe to the theory that “human beings are so complex that they required a powerful force or intelligent being to help create them” (intelligent design). Moreover, a majority (55%) believe that all three of these theories should be taught in public schools, while 23 percent support teaching creationism only, 12 percent evolution only, and four percent intelligent design only.”
Ah, school district after school district are having to deal with this. Seems to me “science” is not being taught very well. Or maybe scientists need to become better sales people?
(Oh my, please don’t hurt me!)
And another point, your CLUE ONE… in “Afterwards, You’re a Genius: Faith, Medicine, and the Metaphysics of Healing,” by Chip Brown, I read about a scientist who 20 plus years ago was investigating cancer. This scientist was pursuing the idea of going after the system that feeds cancers. He was exploring the use of aspirin to disperse blood clustering and feeding cancer. He couldn’t get much funding cause, you see, aspirin isn’t owned by anyone.
So, maybe funding influences research? And who has money to fund research? Pharmacological companies? Military? And, maybe, just maybe this influences who and which places get funding?
(Feeling very faint now – is it hot in here, or is it just me?)
Another point, if I may?
One of Aaron Barlow”s key points was:
“Our authoritarianism is rarely leavened by any sort of training as teachers that might allow us (even) to use it more effectively as part of a larger design. College professors are expected to be subject experts; few are also trained teachers. Our concepts of appropriate classroom behavior and management, therefore, come (for the most part) from our own experience, not from examination of the comparative effectiveness of various carefully delineated and described techniques.”
Um, we have been told that those who can – DO, those who can’t TEACH. (probably by some dead white guy) But, I have found that, sometimes, those who can DO are not necessarily those who can TEACH. Perhaps those whose primary love is research should not teach. Especially if they drive people away from the field.
(Exhausted. Now wondering if it is still possible to change my schedule. Also wondering how many science courses are required and what the alternatives are.)
One final point, Aaron Barlow noted, “To a smaller degree, we do have similar problems each time we enter a classroom. We professors expect students to accept our authority, limiting debate to issues set up by ourselves. When students step beyond those, we can react poorly. Some of us simply avoid responding (“That doesn’t even deserve consideration”) or brush the question off with sarcasm. Others do try to respond, but few have the time to really consider issues that we find tangential (at best) to the central questions.”
Ah, um, I thought Aaron Barlow was seeking “discourse.” I found your response a bit, well, a bit, squelching.
(Oh dear. Which is worse? A response or none? I will not cry, I will not cry…)
I can’t say that I understand much of what you’re trying to say here, but I have to say that I think you’re missing the point about the nature of science, much as the diarist is.
Evolutionary theory has “authority” only to the extent that it is based on credible empirical evidence and intelligent design is not. It’s not that ID is a theory that has been considered and discarded (as in the Shakespeare authorship example)–it’s that it’s not even science.
The fact that large numbers of Americans are confused about it doesn’t mean that there’s actually anything to debate–it just demonstrates (as you suggest) that K-12 science education in the U.S. is sorely lacking. That’s not something your average academic scientist can do much about, although various professional organizations do what they can; see, for example, this site sponsored by the AAAS. In the “Benchmarks” section, I found this:
4. Scientists do not pay much attention to claims about how something they know about works unless the claims are backed up with evidence that can be confirmed and with a logical argument.
There’s some more good reading and interesting links there–I recommend it highly.
Part of the problem in dealing with the question of “intelligent design” arises from the fact that few people outside of the universities have any conception of what the scientific method actually is–even though that is the point of the quote you give about what 5th graders should know.
But that does not mean that scientists should simply give up the fight. The debate needs to be peeled back to such essentials and can be–and is, but by too few.
My point in the diary, by the way, is not about the nature of science, but about the way we have formulated our universities and the ways in which the universities interact with “popular” discussions. Please don’t assume that I have a “point” to miss about science, when science itself is not my point at all.
I can’t contribute much more to this discussion today (work and all that), but I think redwagon takes this on, as well. It’s hard for scientists to interact with “popular” discussions when otherwise educated people don’t even have a 5th-grade understanding of what scientists do.
Here’s an example of what I’m talking about–not with respect to science, but rather mathematics. (I’m a mathematician, although my research has, at the moment, fallen victim to motherhood, teaching, and administrative duties.) As a young undergraduate, I went to a talk given by a math major on his senior honors project; it was a 20-minute talk to which the entire college was invited. The student tried to be very conscientious about making himself understood, so he kept asking the audience questions so he could gauge their level of background knowledge, meet them where they were, and explain his project so the audience could understand him. By about 7 – 8 minutes into his allotted time, the dialogue was still on the order of:
Student: (a little exasperated) “OK, does everyone know what a function is?”
English prof: “No.”
By the time the student explained what a function was to the satisfaction of the English prof, he had about five minutes to get from there to Banach spaces. It wasn’t enlightening for anyone. The English prof didn’t really get anything out of the talk, because the notion of a function, while part of the standard HS curriculum, is hard to grasp in a minute or two. The audience members who had taken calculus (and had hence, in some sense, paid the price of admission to understanding the talk) got nothing, either.
Peeling a debate back to essentials takes time and effort, and the onus ought not to be solely on academic scientists to make themselves understood. Put with a dash of snark, I don’t understand why large numbers of working scientists should have to drop what they’re doing in order to rehash “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Evolution” (14 used & new available from $3.79) for people who can’t be bothered to read it for themselves.
Yes, it is difficult to couch the “discussions” in terms that people not educated in the particular field can understand. And, yes, doing so can take time away from other projects.
Still, if the time is not taken, the researchers may find themselves no longer able to pursue their projects. That’s what scares me most: unless the time is taken to really interact with the general public and to learn how to explain complex academic and scientific issues, the know-nothings may well take over, making all real research impossible.
There’s an up-side: sometimes learning to present things in terms anyone can understand can lead to new insights on the part of the scientist or other academic. So it’s not a complete waste of time (even without the protection it provides for “real” research).
I get what you’re saying about funding. However, I think this problem is more intractable than you make it out to be, and I think you’re not getting an important point about teaching science and mathematics. The point I’m trying to make (not very successfully, it seems)–and one of the points redwagon makes–is that complex topics are, well, complex–you can’t explain them to someone who doesn’t even have the vocabulary to understand the simple ones yet.
An example: On my last sabbatical, I worked on getting up to speed on elliptic curve cryptosystems. What I can briefly say about ECC “in terms anyone can understand” is very limited, and has to do with where it gets used, not how it works. To understand even on the most basic level how it works, you need to be able to grasp what an elliptic curve is (it’s not the same as an ellipse) and how addition of points on the curve is defined. For me to be able to explain those things to you, you’d need to know the Cartesian plane. If you don’t know the Cartesian plane, I’d have to very nicely say, “Well, anyhow, it’s really good to use on smart cards and cell phones” because you’re not going to get from the Cartesian plane to the discrete log problem for elliptic curve groups in one conversation. You’re just not. And explaining junior high mathematics to you, as important as that is for someone to do, is not going to lead me to any new insights in my own work. It’s just not.
Have you ever seen Bertrand Russell’s The ABC of Relativity? The book came out in 1925 and made one of the most complex topics of that (or any) time accessible. It still does. Then there’s Nagel & Newman’s Godel’s Proof which, quite elegantly, makes another of the most complex intellectual concepts of the early 20th century accessible.
Obviously, the most complicated ideas can be made accessible even to those without education allowing them to comprehend the technical, mathematical, or scientific ideas behind them. It’s been done. It is being done.
These are not perfect works (they are not scientific works, but “popularizing” works, after all), in the most precise academic terms, but they do open up extremely complex topics to generalized understanding. The same can be done on almost any topic… I remember James Rainwater (who won the Nobel Prize in Physics) explaining his work on the shape of the atom to me. Sure, the details were way beyond me–but he did make it possible for me to understand a little of what he was doing.
Though it is difficult and not always possible, we all should strive to make the work we do at least accessible (in its broadest sense) to the general public. If we don’t, the public starts to think that the intellectuals are looking down on them–and that can lead to real difficulties for the intellectuals. After all, no one likes being condescended to–and that’s how most people see it when we say, “You just wouldn’t understand.”
If we don’t take the time to put our work in terms the general public can comprehend, we’re not going to be able to continue our own work. It’s as simple as that. Therefore, it is worth the time trying to put things into terms the general public can understand.
I want to say a little more on this:
It’s easy to put the blame for ignorance on the ignorant… but that, unfortunately, solves no problems. If anything, it increases them, widening the divide between the “intellectual community” and everyone else.
Your talk about “function” reminds me of my own early education: though I was good at math (even later, on the GRE, scored over 700 on the math part), I struggled more and more through the years, until calculus completely baffled me and I let go. No one had bothered to explain what a function was to me, merely showing me how to manipulate it in an equation. I felt I was doing things with no understanding of why.
It wasn’t until I was taking Symbolic Logic (I was a Philosophy major in undergraduate school) that I learned what a function is (and, as a result, what “calculus” is). In that course, I came across clear and understandable explanations that took very little time for me to grasp.
A lot of time was wasted trying to get me to learn calculus simply because my teachers had not learned how to explain in simple, concise terms just what a function is.
Maybe, if simple, clear explanations were a goal, the student you mention would have had one at hand–and time in the lecture would not have been wasted.
I don’t think many 16 – 18-year-olds are really ready cognitively for the rigorous definition of a function. (Ed Dubinsky has written a lot on different levels of understanding of the idea of a function–google him for more info.) Most can do the symbol-pushing that needs to be done, but I find that it’s not until most students are about 20 that they can really absorb the “subset of a Cartesian product” definition. Or maybe it’s just your subconscious working on it in the background. In the sage words of one of my HS math teachers, “The teacher you have the second time you learn something is always a much better teacher.”
And–not to burst your bubble, because that’s a good score–but I used to do GRE prep informally 10 or so years ago. At that time, anyhow, the level of knowledge required for the GRE quantitative portion was <= what was required for the SAT.
And now I simply must get to work.
My point wasn’t about my score, simply that I am no math dunderhead–as many mathematicians think we English professors are. I can even balance a checkbook.
To rule the specific from the general is quite dangerous (as a mathematician, you should know that). Because “many 16-18-year-olds” aren’t ready for something does not mean that any specific one is not. Besides, I took (and dropped) calculus when I was 20–the semester before I took Symbolic Logic!
That is beside the point, anyhow. The point is that we rarely do try to explain things… and should be doing so as much as we can.
Balancing a checkbook requires a command of addition and subtraction–2nd-grade arithmetic. It is not mathematics.
And I was trying to be nice when I observed that maybe you just weren’t ready yet. Nice is apparently lost on you.
See ya.
Have I been mean to you? I hope not. If I have, I am sorry.
And my comment on balancing a checkbook was a joke, one spawned by your characterization of an English prof earlier. You have to admit, the caricature of the English prof is of someone completely unable to understand anything at all that has to do with numbers.
And whether I was ready or not to understand what a function is is irrelevant to the discussion…. Plus, your “nice” sounds more like patronization–exactly what gets all of us in academia in trouble with the general public.
Again, however, I apologize if I seemed at all mean. I don’t want to be–I simply want you to understand that we have to breach the wall between what we are doing and what the general public sees. Either that, or we will end up unable to continue what we are doing!
. . . I think you’re way too enamored with this notion of a one-size-fits-all “simple, clear explanation” when simple and clear are very much dependent on both the explainer and the recipient–MilitaryTracy’s diaries on Visual/Auditory/Kinesthetic learners are a useful read for people who care about these sorts of things.
One size fits all?
No. And some people catch one thing more quickly than another. Sure, I understand that. Why do you think I will take a student aside and work with that student one-on-one?
You seem to be trying to avoid facing the issue by trying to question my motivation!
It remains: unless we in academia work on making the general public aware of what we are doing, unless we work on helping them understand (if only in the most general terms) what we are doing… we will wake up one day and find we aren’t able to continue doing it at all. It’s as simple as that. Why can’t you see that? Why do you constantly divert the conversation from that?
Sorry it wasn’t clear. I took the original diary’s main point to be the opening of a discussion on teaching at the college/university level.
What struck me as noteworthy was the observation that the teachers at this level are expected to be experts in their field, perhaps, experts in a very narrow area within a field. Going through a doctoral process and earning a doctorate gives the teacher the “authority” position in the classroom based on subject matter expertise.
The college/university professor may be an expert, however, they may not be a good teacher. Or they may be a good teacher, but not for those just taking an introductory course. There are those who have no interest in teaching undergraduates.
A friend’s kid is at a prestigious university. Her roommate is in the math department. When her roommate sought help with understanding what they were working on in class, the classmate she approached refused to help!
My friend’s kid explained the math department is very competitive. Indeed.
Who is served by such an atmosphere? Is the point of education to winnow out people? To make it exclusive – elite? What do we get?
Another example, a fellow took an advanced undergraduate science class. There were about thirty people in the class. The professor began right away with very complicated material and piled on the homework.
Within two classes the number of students had dropped to around 15. The professor looked around and said something like, “Ah, now this is more reasonable.” And he began to teach more appropriate material.
I found that appalling.
When I think of the teachers I have known – the best, the gifted ones, the ones who have made a difference – they are people who are passionate about their subject and want to share their knowledge and understanding so others can join them.
So, going back to the original diary, I thought the essence was, “Does the doctoral process qualify one to be a teacher?”
The tone of Redwagon’s response replicated for me the experience of watching a classmate get verbally sliced and diced. I wrote my response from that place in the classroom, sitting in the chair, wanting to respond, but feeling very intimidated.
BTW, students eventually (hopefully) become gainfully employed taxpayers. If their schooling experience is miserable, they might become resistant to having their taxes increased to support education. They might even work to reduce the tax dollars directed towards all levels of education.
The discussion is, IMO, important.
The dairy did explicitly NOT ask if doctoral training included adequate training in instruction. It advocated the removal of tenure because
The dairy supported the removal of tenure as a force to cause teaching to be more valued.
Teaching is not valued because $1.00 in tuition corresponds to $1.50 in university costs, while $1.00 in research funds comes loaded with overhead and brings in $1.50. Removing tenure will not change the decreasing investment in education. Forcing universities to increasingly rely on commercial investments in research will not increase the value of teaching. ONLY public investment will increase the value of teaching. Destroying tenure will increase the value of corporate funders (making it a firing offense to develop finding that offend funders) and will not increase the value placed on instruction. Ask an adjunct if he or she is more valued than the tenured professor. Then explain the value of having all adjuncts.
Wait a minute: where do I advocate the removal of tenure? Did you read the diary at all, or did you simply imagine that you read it?
Your comments above have absolutely nothing to do with my original diary. Go back and read it again.
I used the words “original diary.” It would have been more accurate to have used the words “in Part II.”
My apologies for contributing to the confusion.
Not even in Part I do I advocate the abolition of tenure!
I was in a hurry Friday to drive six hours for a wedding, so did not have time to really respond. Let me do that now.
First, I don’t argue for the removal of tenure at all. My purpose is renovation, not removal. If you read carefully, you will see that.
My point is that we, in academia (of all people) should constantly be re-examining ourselves and our methodologies–not that there are specific changes that should be instituted.
My comments on the authority of Shakespeare and on evolution were merely examples of where we, as academics, have not interacted effectively with the general public. That has nothing to do with either the renovation or removal of tenure.
I don’t think I ever even say that some professors are terrible teachers (in fact, I know I don’t–I merely say we could and would be better if we made it a point to learn something about teaching methodology). Again, my point is that we could become better teachers if we would really spend time on the subject, and if it were considered a more important aspect of promotion and professional activity.
Your third point, though true, isn’t part of what I was saying. In fact, it is completely irrelevant.
Your last paragraph seems cobbled together from a number of different lines of thought. There’s no thread holding it together, no logic–so I cannot respond. If you would like, please expand on this, keeping in mind that funding and value (outcome) are different things and are not necessarily dependent.
Finally, the idea that the abolition of tenure would make teaching more valued appears nowhere in my diary.
Hmmm…
Clue One: I never said that authority needs to be consolidated to exist. If you think there is no authority in academia due to it being diffuse, well… I would wonder who it is who hasn’t a clue.
Clue Two: I never said there is a debate within the universities on “intelligent design.” There certainly is, however, amongst the populace in general. And the academic failure (for the most part) to participate is most unfortunate.
Clue Three: The real sign of genius is being able to explain simply what seems hard to explain. It’s what all academics should work towards.
Clue Four: Tuition certainly does not cover the cost of education but (and you can look this up) research funds do not make up the difference.
Clue Five: Who said anything at all about punishing anyone or having been hurt by anyone? Not I, certainly. Who said anything about abolishing tenure? Not I, certainly. I want reform, not revolution. As to whether universities are being run like businesses… well, get a clue! I spent a decade running my own business. If I ran it like a university thinks businesses are run, I would long ago have been bankrupt.
authoritarian –
of, relating to, or favoring a concentration of power in a leader or an elite not constitutionally responsible to the people
Authoritarian means concentrated power. Diffuse authoritarian is an oxymoron. You cannot, like tweedwldum, just pretend words have different meanings. (Although it appears you would say anything not to change your mind, which is interesting to a person who claims to run an open classroom.)
And, btw, mathematics is not about numbers. Arithmetic is about numbers. All that you say to illustrate your numeracy illustrates your lack. That is why the person who you were speaking to gave up in complete frustration.
What are you talking about?
Of course there can be diffuse authority. Not everything is one pyramid running to one top.
It is you who are pretending that words have different meaning!
As a result, you make no sense.
Again, I want to give a better response than the quick one of Friday, as I was trying to get away and to the beach (ah, but it’s a hard life, being a teacher!).
Authoritarianism has nothing to do with “constitutionality.” And it is not simply a political term, as your definition supposes. Let’s turn to a real authority, the Oxford English Dictionary. It says that an “authoritarian” is:
What you provide is simply a narrowing of definition to suit your own purposes instead of an effective, authoritative definition.
As to your reference to Tweedledum, well… I had to laugh when I remembered it while I was driving (I had been in too much of a hurry to get away when I responded before): It’s Humpty Dumpty who argues with Alice about words and meanings.
Your final point is, once again, rather bizarre. We weren’t talking about the difference between arithmetic and mathematics at all. Here once again, you confuse an example with the points that were being made.
As I have commented extensively to your diary on dKos, I’m not going to say the same things here. I’m glad you are bringing up these issues, although the more I think about it, the more I disagree with you! (Nonetheless, I have recommended your diary. I hope a lot of people see it and think about these issues).
Authoritarianism is a big problem in our society. Indeed, I think the Republican party is caught up in authoritarianism. That’s one of the reasons why I am actually somewhat amused that you think higher education is authoritarian, given that academics are specifically targeted so much by the Right wingers.
I do want to comment here about ABD’s. I do not think academics disdain people with ABD’s in general. Yes, some do. Perhaps this is part of what I’ve observed and call new Ph.D. disease (It ‘s new Ph.D’s who often are most insistent on being called Dr. So-and-So. After a while, the aura of having a doctorate wears off. You still have to do all those humble tasks like clipping your toe-nails) The importance of being called Dr. fades.
It is really really hard for most people to complete the last step of the doctorate. I’m from a weird, three-professor sib-ship. Took one of us 7 years to get that diss written(!). Another took 4 years. Another took 3 years. Not exactly speed demons, any of us. And not one of us did the massive research project demanding years of lab work or multiple trips to obscure libraries sort of dissertations, either. No scholarly excuses, we just had life interfere, as it does. Pregnancies, procrastination, smelling the roses, opportunities to not live in the “genteel poverty” of grad school. etc.
Some doctoral students, most in fact, never make it past this period to complete their dissertation, so they are All But Dissertation for life. Frankly, I think many faculty find this sad, and it scares us, because it could so easily have happened to us. Some faculty may react with disdain, but the very few I’ve seen say disdainful things out loud have quickly been lashed at by colleagues quite thoroughly as we are well-trained to do.
If a faculty adviser has most or several of his or her students ending up ABD, that signals a problem, to me.
To find who may be an authoritarian faculty member in doctoral producing universities, look and see how many scholars he or she produces over time. I do see some scholars who have produced no “children” in academia. They use their grad students, but do not teach them how to be an academic, nor how to be independent.
The best scholars produce young scholars consistently. They do this, not by their authoritarianism, but by being good mentors.
I think the genesis of the feelings towards ABD in the academic community is exactly as you describe it: “There but for the grace of God go I.”
And you are right: the best scholars are mentors, not authoritarians. In my post, I paint with that ole’ broad brush as a means for sparking discussion (and good responses, like yours)–not to paint a detailed portrait of academics.
My main point about ABDs is that they really are as able as PhDs. They just have not finished the dissertation. Yes, there is something to be said for that (it certainly does mean something, prove something), but there are many reasons why someone might not have finished. Rarely, however, do people not finish because they are not intellectually able.
Your point about authoritarianism is, to me, one of the ironies of the whole situation. Many of us in academia talk a good line in an anti-authoritarian manner but then run our classrooms on strict, authoritarian lines. To some extent, we must–otherwise chaos results. But we need to be extremely careful as to how we use our authority.
That care, that self-examination is what makes us different from the right-wing auhtoritarians, many of whom simply assume they are right because they have power.