The Academically Disengaged

We need more Bill Waltons, the former college and professional basketball legend whose playing days were cut short by numerous injuries and related surgeries.

“My injuries piled up,” Walton explains. “Bad back, broken bones, ankle and foot problems, broken hands and wrists, knee injuries, and broken noses.” By his count, Walton had 38 orthopedic surgeries to mend his various injuries.

Currently, Walton is a wonderfully idiosyncratic basketball analyst whose “glass of life” is constantly overflowing. The list of things he appreciates is exceedingly long. His positivity is contagious. His commentary is 45% basketball and 45% philosophical, interdisciplinary ramblings. The remaining 10% of the time he’s busting his partner’s chops. Their faux exasperation with each other can’t hide their chemistry and mutual affection. It just works.

Midway through yesterday’s UCLA-Oregon game (Bruins off the Duck schneid), Walton said something that instantly clarified my thinking about my teaching this fall. He said, “You can’t learn what you don’t want to know.” Turns out, after a little sleuthing, he was quoting Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead, who in one of their songs wrote, “You ain’t gonna learn what you don’t wanna to know.” Shame on Walton, one of the greatest passing bigs of all time, for not crediting Garcia.

Much is being written about the growing academic achievement gender gap. Here is my Reader’s Digest point of view on it based upon my “on the ground” experience. A third of my students are male. At least half of them are excellent, by which I mean they think deeply about what they read, participate actively in class discussions, and write better and better over the course of the semester as a result of working at it. They’re sensitive, caring, and socially conscious. A privilege to work with.

The other subset doesn’t read, participates sporadically in ways that do not deepen our discussions, and pay little to no attention to their peers. They’re way more interested in their phones than what we’re reading and thinking through.

“Well Ron,” the K-12 teachers are probably saying, “your job is to get them interested.” I don’t want to ever become some of my colleagues whose answer to this dilemma is for the Admissions Office to just admit “better” students. My K-12 friends are right, but so is Walton, I mean Garcia, no matter how much magic my engaged students and I can muster, “You ain’t gonna learn what you don’t wanna to know.”

Compared to my female students, a disproportionate number of my male students don’t like to read and lack curiosity about themselves and others. While still a minority of males, this disengaged subset seems most interested in two things. A diploma and a job. Rightly or wrongly convinced of the need for a diploma for improved job prospects, they are resigned to playing the game of school for four years. At a large cost. 

These students would benefit immensely from a gap year or two. Especially if we had a respected National Service program that they could opt into. 

Absent that, some of the apathetic will do just enough to graduate relatively unchanged. And for many others, their apathy will get the best of them, and all they will have to show for their limited effort is years of debt.

Crimes Against The Written Word

You would think inciting a violent insurrection designed to overturn a fair and free election would disqualify one from running for office again.

And if not that, then calling for a shorter, more election conspiracy-friendly Constitution.

And if not that, the Former Guy’s capitalization and quotation errors seal the deal. In fact, they are enough by themselves to lock him up and throw away the keyboards.

Thinking Slow Together

That’s how an excellent colleague of mine describes her teaching philosophy. It perfectly encapsulates what I strive to do with my students as well.

The phrase “thinking slow together” echoed in my mind while reading David Sims’s review of Dave Chappelle’s SNL appearance

When watching Chappelle, I vacillated from unconsciously laughing at many of his punch lines to consciously questioning how he set up a few others. A singular talent, I thought he was very funny, but I also experienced some uneasiness and couldn’t give completely in to him.

I didn’t understand why until thinking slowly about it with Sims’s help. And there is the power of the printed word. In a world where faster is always seen as better, writing and reading force us to take time to ponder things, to consider others’ viewpoints, to formulate tentative ideas, and to clearly communicate them.

And as in the case of Sims’s review, that slowing down results in more profound, longer lasting insights than live audio or television generate by themselves.

Sometimes It’s Very Much What You Say

Clint Smith explains in “What a Racist Slur Does to the Body“.

“As we were walking through the stanchions ushering us past the terminal’s gate, the white woman turned to the Black woman, red with anger, and called her the N-word.”

“. . . it is not that I was unfamiliar with hearing that word out loud; it is that it had been many years since I had heard it used in public, by a white person, in a way that was laced with such unvarnished venom and disgust. It was as if my skin was struck by a match and fire spread through my entire body. My heart’s once metronomic tempo accelerated into a gallop, my blood pumping as if it was trying to tell me to run away. Cortisol was coursing through me.”

Do We Need More Therapy Or Fiction?

One of my college besties is a psychotherapist in the city of Angels. I sent him this George Saunders essay, “Could I understand the people who rushed into the Capital?” and then asked him whether we need more therapy or fiction. Of course, the answer is both.

TL/DR. . . yes, Saunders could. And so can anyone who dares follow his lead.

My Students Evaluate Their Parent(s’) Parenting

In response to a chapter on the downsides of “hyper-intensive parenting” in Ruth Whippman’s America the Anxious.

I’ve just started chipping away at the behemoth pile of essays, so this may be coincidental, but a theme of tough-minded, strict disciplinarian parents is emerging. The 18 and 19 year old students are mostly appreciative of their hard ass parent(s).

Except for one little thing, as a student who moved to the Pacific Northwest from Mexico at age 8 explained. She wrote eloquently about being afraid of her mom and emotionally stunted because she never had anyone to discuss her feelings with. A lot of the time she’s not sure what she feels, and when she has some modicum sense of them, she doesn’t know what to do with them. And she concedes, she’s wholly incapable of asking for help.

I used “little” above facetiously because emotional intelligence is THE BIG THING. They think their future success hinges on picking the exact right academic major or getting good grades. But their relationship success, professionally, but especially personally, will hinge in large part on their ability to calmly and constructively discuss their’s and other people’s feelings.

What say you, should I tell them or just let them discover that on their own through inevitable trials and tribulations?

Friday Required Reading

Maggie Haberman, New York Times political correspondent and author of “Confidence Man: The Making of Donald Trump and the Breaking of America” is controversial. As Kara Swisher says in this interview with Haberman, many on the right and left loathe her. I follow Haberman on Twitter and have been intrigued by the lefty vitriol directed at her. Intrigued to the point of not knowing what to make of it.

But after listening to Swisher’s interview with Haberman, I’m much more sympathetic to her. I found Haberman’s explanations for why she withheld some information from her regular reporting in the Times—the overarching lefty critique—convincing enough to give her a pass.

After reading this excellent review of Confidence Man by Laura Miller in Slate I’m even more inclined to give Haberman a pass.

Miller’s review is so clear and insightful, I’m requiring it. If you start now, you’ll finish before the Mariner game begins.

Inspire Vapidness

When it comes to the written word, I cherish brevity. Friday night after dinner I was watching television downstairs while the Good Wife, the good daughters, and Meg, the Eldest’s good partner, were all upstairs in the kitchen cackling about, as it turned out, Meg mindlessly putting the Gal Pal’s last puzzle piece in the jigsaw The Good Wife had been working on for three months. Among other things.

So I decided to write a story about the evening from my downstairs perspective. I couldn’t really make out their dialogue, so I improvised. Ready?

“And hilarity ensued.”

Pretty damn good, huh?! My story left the Good Wife perplexed. I admitted it lacked character development, but that wasn’t enough of a concession for her. She said a story has to have a beginning, middle, and end. I will not be boxed in, so I will not be rewriting it.

So I suppose I should give the National Football League’s Tampa Bay Buccaneers some credit for their brevity, but their back of helmet two-word slogan, “Inspire Change”, couldn’t be more vapid.

What’s wrong with “Inspire Change”? First and foremost, it’s hella vague. What kind of change exactly are we to inspire? Heaven help us if it’s Florida-DeSantis change. Without specifying, are we to assume it’s change just for the sake of change? If that’s the case, the Bucs need not worry because change is INEVITABLE. Thus making the slogan utterly unnecessary.

Bonus football observation from the second half of Sunday’s Seattle Seahawks-Detroit Lions shootout. Apparently, to play tight end in the NFL it’s not enough to be 6’6″, run like the wind, and have great hands. You also have to have REALLY long hair. Who knew?