Degrees for Super You

If you could snap your fingers and have three credentials under your belt–complete with all the knowledge and capabilities completing such programs of study would bring, of course–what would they be?

Brainstorm a list of six or seven ideas. Then take a good hard look at that list and ask yourself which of them would truly make you happy–make you more you–as opposed to just being really impressive to others. Do you really need that medical degree from Harvard or that law degree from Yale?

Well, maybe you do! As for me, here’s what I might choose:

  • A bachelor of music from Berklee.

  • An associate’s in culinary arts from Le Cordon Bleu.
  • A bachelor’s in creative writing from Emory.

What would you choose?

Academic support

Adult 1: It’s great that you’re studying your Spanish vocabulary out loud like that with a notebook in your hand.

Kid: Yeah, why?

Adult 1: Because you’re learning it four different ways: You’re reading it, you’re writing it, you’re speaking it and you’re hearing it!

Kid: Wow!

Adult 2: Not only that, you’re learning it a fifth way, too.

Kid: Really?

Adult 2: Yeah. You’re also annoying people with it. That’s a whole new level of learning going on.

A meeting

This afternoon I had a meeting to discuss the possibility of getting a PhD.

Relax! It was a meeting. Just a meeting. And a meeting is not a commitment. Got it? Good.

That said, the idea is that because the university does not offer a doctorate in precisely what I want to be a doctor of, I’d create my own interdisciplinary degree program. To do this, I would cobble together bits and pieces from two or more existing academic departments–courses, faculty and all. In my case it would likely be a mixture of communication, math & computer science and possibly education. I’d call it a PhD in internet communication. Or something.

You see, I’m fascinated by the way people use the internet to teach, learn, do business and socialize. And I’ve been hip-deep in the subject for a decade or so. Doing original research into this area, becoming a recognized expert and teaching others would be really terrific.

But there’s challenges.

First, I’d have to basically come up with a detailed, concrete dissertation proposal before I start the program. One does not typically need to do this as a condition of admission to a PhD program, but I would have to. And that means I’d also have to identify faculty who are both willing and able to assist me, be on my dissertation committee and so on.

Second (and more ordinary), it’s a big commitment. I’m told that I could finish the coursework in three years–even taking only one class at a time, fall, spring and summer. But three years is three years just the same. It would be a lifestyle change. A big cutback on time for hobbies, socializing, whatever. And then I’d have to write a dissertation, something that could easily take another year or two. All this while I’m still working full-time, of course. Do I really want it that bad? It’s something I have to think about carefully before I make a decision.

So where does this all go from here? My next step is to approach some of the faculty who I think might be interested in helping me and see what they think.

Common Course

Fall classes begin at Marquette today and it got me thinking about my own undergraduate days. One of the most valuable and memorable things about my studies at Carroll was something called Common Course. I’m surprised I haven’t written about it before, but I can find no mention of it anywhere on the blog.

Common Course consisted of two four-credit classes offered during the month of January only. Most people took them in their Freshman and Sophomore years. The interesting thing, though, is that they were required courses for every major. And it was not limited to the students: it seemed that no matter what you taught at Carroll, you had to also occasionally teach Common Course.

It was a course that we all had in common, hence the name.

Typically there was a lecture in the morning, held in a large auditorium. Different speakers every day. Then there was a small discussion section. To the best of my recollection, one year my discussion was led by an economics professor; another year it was a philosophy prof. In the afternoon there were sometimes films, again back in the large lecture hall.

The curriculum? Everything from Sigmund Freud to Adam Smith. The great ideas of the western world. It’s where I first ran across The Tragedy of the Commons. Films included Koyaanisqatsi and Lord of the Flies.

They were, without doubt, the most enjoyable and rewarding courses I ever took. A few years ago I heard that Common Course is no longer required at Carroll. If that’s so, it’s a shame. I’ll never forget those frosty January days, my head bursting with truly transformative learning experiences.

More on ID

I haven’t written about this in years, so here goes.

Intelligent Design (ID) is not science. That being the case, it has no place in the science curriculum of our public schools. (Or the science curriculum of any school, but I suppose private schools can be dumb if they want to be.)

Am I trying to avoid the teaching of religion in public schools? Hardly. I would love to see religion taught to every kid in every public school across America. As long as it’s taught as the factual history of belief in America and around the world–not religious indoctrination–I’m more than fine with it. I advocate for it.

But I digress. ID is not science. Right? Right. For one thing, it’s hypotheses are not falsifiable. Bang, right there: not science. However, you’d be surprised (or maybe you wouldn’t be) at the amount of argument I get on this point. In a recent discussion on the subject, an ID proponent offered this quote:

Intelligent design refers to a scientific research program as well as a community of scientists…

I googled it. It’s from here.

I offered this one from wikipedia:

Advocates of intelligent design seek to fundamentally redefine science to accept supernatural explanations,[11] arguing that intelligent design is a scientific theory under this new definition of science.[12] The unequivocal consensus in the scientific community is that intelligent design is not science.[13][14][15][16] The U.S. National Academy of Sciences has stated that “creationism, intelligent design, and other claims of supernatural intervention in the origin of life or of species are not science because they are not testable by the methods of science.”[17] The U.S. National Science Teachers Association and the American Association for the Advancement of Science have termed it pseudoscience.[18] Others in the scientific community have concurred,[19] and some have called it junk science.[20][21]

I was immediately chastised for citing wikipedia–totally untrustworthy! Anyone can go there and write anything they want!

True, sort of. But the rejection is bullshit in this case. I’m sure you noticed all the little [11] and [12] notes in the quote. That’s because in the wikiepdia article they are links to footnotes. Footnotes which contain links directly to the sources cited. Like the National Academy of Sciences–who wrote exactly what the wikipedia article said they did.

Would this be good enough for the wikipedia-scoffer? Of course not.

Thoughts?

Teaching photography

This lifted my spirits today. I got forwarded an email written by a participant in yesterday’s “Better Digital Photography” class. It was the first time I offered it and, as such, I only had tentative ideas about what people expected to learn there. In other words, I winged it.

But apparently something went right because this participant positively raved about the class, saying that our three hours together was far superior to an expensive two-day photography seminar she had attended in the past. She also was encouraging us to offer the class again, as she was advising her colleagues to take it next time.

All of which makes me very happy for two reasons. First, I’m glad I didn’t waste anyone’s time yesterday. But second, I’m probably going to be doing something similar for the upcoming PhotoCampMilwaukee event taking place in May, and now I have reason to hope that it will also be well-received.

One thing I had yesterday that I won’t have in May, however, is expert help. My good friend Dan sat in on the class at my invitation and heckled me good-naturedly throughout, much to the amusement–and enlightenment–of everyone in the room. You see, Dan has been taking pictures for a living for over thirty years.

Pretty good team, don’t you think? A camera enthusiast-cum-professional who happens to be an educator, and a seasoned veteran photographer. Not a bad combo for a basic photography class.

By the way, I think I’m on track to get that new article out the door.

My Little Girl

It’s official. Paige is going off to college this fall. And not just any college. She’s going to my alma mater and employer of ten years, Marquette University. I couldn’t be more thrilled or more proud.

In case you didn’t know, Marquette is ranked 81st among national universities, according to US News & World Report. It’s also fairly selective, accepting only around 65% of those who apply.

Congratulations, kid. I knew you could do it.