Things come in three's. If they come in two's or four's, we dismiss that as not counting. Three births, three deaths, three accidents, three deadlines. Yes, life happens in three's and I'm heading into the finale for three big projects, all due within a week.
1. Report to the IL Dept of Health and Family Services summarizing the results of our evaluation of the Healthy Births for Healthy Communities (HBHC). All the project staff are gone; the money has ended. Still we have to produce three substantial reports in order to get paid. This project was ongoing for four years, so you know we have too much data and too little time to do complex analyses. Still, it was a good run.
2. Grant proposal due to be submitted to the office at the University which submits all grant applications via the online, federal system. Even with the relatively new NIH forms, we were able to crank out the proposal in a couple of weeks. Of course, the idea had been peculating for months and the groundwork for pulling the proposal together had been done. Still, at 80 pages max, we did it.
3. The coming Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday is the research agenda setting conference that I am 'hosting'. Naturally, during the last week I received requests to attend, but I politely said we had reached the limit of 50 invited participants. The presenters have turned in thier handouts and sent us their Powerpoint presentations. The photocopying has begun of all the handouts, and I have new clothes for the event. Still, there's some party/hostess nervousness about not forgetting any last minute details.
So, when someone says "things don't really come in three's", don't believe them.
30 September 2010
24 September 2010
Teaching Evaluation
With all the news about the quality of teachers in K-12, you'd expect a little news about the quality of teaching in universities. Not so. The evaluation of teaching does happen, albeit behind the scenes, with an emphasis on the privacy of the faculty member.
At the end of each course we teach, the students receive an email providing them with a link to an online survey about the quality of the course. (The paper versions are gone.) What happens to those surveys? The results are reviewed, course by course, by the Associate Dean, then forwarded to the Division Director, and finally to the faculty member. Faculty with good evaluations get a nice letter from the Director, and the others (I'm told) have a meeting with the director. All of this is routine and happens each semester.
On a much more infrequent basis, a more serious step is taken. When a faculty member is going up for promotion, another faculty observes the teaching and writes a report. This report is used in the promotion packet.
Last week I had an observer. I didn't do anything differently than previous weeks. We had a good discussion during the class and lots of thoughtful questions posed, most with no right or wrong answers. The students all selected one chapter written by different great minds in management and briefly presented on what they learned from the life story of that great mind. Students were animated and engaged. At the end of the class, the observer said "That was fun." I took this as a good sign.
At the end of each course we teach, the students receive an email providing them with a link to an online survey about the quality of the course. (The paper versions are gone.) What happens to those surveys? The results are reviewed, course by course, by the Associate Dean, then forwarded to the Division Director, and finally to the faculty member. Faculty with good evaluations get a nice letter from the Director, and the others (I'm told) have a meeting with the director. All of this is routine and happens each semester.
On a much more infrequent basis, a more serious step is taken. When a faculty member is going up for promotion, another faculty observes the teaching and writes a report. This report is used in the promotion packet.
Last week I had an observer. I didn't do anything differently than previous weeks. We had a good discussion during the class and lots of thoughtful questions posed, most with no right or wrong answers. The students all selected one chapter written by different great minds in management and briefly presented on what they learned from the life story of that great mind. Students were animated and engaged. At the end of the class, the observer said "That was fun." I took this as a good sign.
23 September 2010
Show time!
Remember what school picture day was like when you were a kid? All the kids with fresh hair cuts, wearing clothes that came with mother's instructions to not get dirty, and the teasing and excitement. On Monday, we had school picture day. Faculty photos were taken in anticipation of news releases about our stunning research findings and for updating our aging (no pun intended) webpages.
We meandered down to the gym (yes, we have a basketball court in this old building) according to the time honored system of last names A-G at 10am, H-I at 11am, etc. In the middle of the photo taking, we had the first all faculty meeting of this academic school year. It's normally a bland event with committee reports and a few faculty eating crunchy lunches. But, not so this time. Men came wearing nice jackets and pressed shirts, carrying their ties with care. Surprisingly, many actually have suits. Women wore jackets and their best jewelry. We looked so professional, it almost made me proud.
The "almost" part was that I realized that: (a) the photos would be a slightly glamorized version of us whereas impromptu photos in our office would be realistic, and (b) the difference between our everyday look and today reflected how the world has become increasingly informal. A part of me longed for the days when we all had to (and partly wanted to) look the part of being a professional. For me, that meant bit of business tailoring in all that I wore. But, it seems like those times are gone. The world has gone casual in dress and I worry that we have also gone causal in so many other areas. Casual in our relationships. Casual our our self-disclosure. Casual in our thinking. I wonder what this means for the future of education and science. Maybe nothing. But then again....
We meandered down to the gym (yes, we have a basketball court in this old building) according to the time honored system of last names A-G at 10am, H-I at 11am, etc. In the middle of the photo taking, we had the first all faculty meeting of this academic school year. It's normally a bland event with committee reports and a few faculty eating crunchy lunches. But, not so this time. Men came wearing nice jackets and pressed shirts, carrying their ties with care. Surprisingly, many actually have suits. Women wore jackets and their best jewelry. We looked so professional, it almost made me proud.
The "almost" part was that I realized that: (a) the photos would be a slightly glamorized version of us whereas impromptu photos in our office would be realistic, and (b) the difference between our everyday look and today reflected how the world has become increasingly informal. A part of me longed for the days when we all had to (and partly wanted to) look the part of being a professional. For me, that meant bit of business tailoring in all that I wore. But, it seems like those times are gone. The world has gone casual in dress and I worry that we have also gone causal in so many other areas. Casual in our relationships. Casual our our self-disclosure. Casual in our thinking. I wonder what this means for the future of education and science. Maybe nothing. But then again....
18 September 2010
Rite of Passage
You could see it on her face, that mildly stunned, disappointed look of "is that all?" There was no drum roll, no fanfare for the common man, no disco ball flashing lights. But, you could tell that she expected something, anything more than what just happened. I reached out my hand to shake hers to be first on to say "Congratulations Dr.Smith!" But, that was clearly not enough.
Her reaction is more the norm than not. Doctoral students work so hard, for so long doing coursework, cramming for the preliminary examination, conducting the dissertation research, writing, more writing and even more writing. Then during the last few weeks, they sprint with anxious breath toward the day and hour of the defense. After all that, all those years, all that tuition money paid and earnings lost while in school, anything short of gold confetti is bound to seem anti-climatic.
I could not tell her or explain how or why that what she had just experienced (as do nearly all doctoral students at the same moment) will now be the reality of the academic life she has chosen. She had, maybe for the first time, had experienced the reality of how hard, enduring, quite work is rewarded; that perseverance and dogged pursuit of an elusive goal (whether a degree, a grant award, or a publication) is expected and assumed. We, the omnipresent we of society, pay no head to effort expended, only to the product.
Her reaction is more the norm than not. Doctoral students work so hard, for so long doing coursework, cramming for the preliminary examination, conducting the dissertation research, writing, more writing and even more writing. Then during the last few weeks, they sprint with anxious breath toward the day and hour of the defense. After all that, all those years, all that tuition money paid and earnings lost while in school, anything short of gold confetti is bound to seem anti-climatic.
I could not tell her or explain how or why that what she had just experienced (as do nearly all doctoral students at the same moment) will now be the reality of the academic life she has chosen. She had, maybe for the first time, had experienced the reality of how hard, enduring, quite work is rewarded; that perseverance and dogged pursuit of an elusive goal (whether a degree, a grant award, or a publication) is expected and assumed. We, the omnipresent we of society, pay no head to effort expended, only to the product.
14 September 2010
TGIF
Normally TGIF means Thank God It's Friday because people are looking forward to a weekend of no work and slack off a bit at the office. Ha! Not me. TGIF has other meanings, innuendos and connotations.
Fridays are busy days for me, usually a full 8 hours at task in the office problem solving and making incremental progress toward some elusive goal. I am one of the very few faculty who teach on Fridays, which is to say that the building has far fewer students and a tiny portion of faculty. After class, I hold office hours and have meetings. Last week I was zooming ~ going from my project office for a teleconference meeting with my co-investigators to a student office for a consult on preparing a presentation then back to my office for a quick scan of email, returning down the 1/2 block hallway (literally) to reassure a student about an assignment. Just another normal Friday. By the time I left shortly after 6pm, TGIF meant Thank God It's Finished.
Fridays are busy days for me, usually a full 8 hours at task in the office problem solving and making incremental progress toward some elusive goal. I am one of the very few faculty who teach on Fridays, which is to say that the building has far fewer students and a tiny portion of faculty. After class, I hold office hours and have meetings. Last week I was zooming ~ going from my project office for a teleconference meeting with my co-investigators to a student office for a consult on preparing a presentation then back to my office for a quick scan of email, returning down the 1/2 block hallway (literally) to reassure a student about an assignment. Just another normal Friday. By the time I left shortly after 6pm, TGIF meant Thank God It's Finished.
08 September 2010
Small committes, big effect
I thought that I had finished work for the day, having reached 9 hours at task. But, I stayed online with email open past the dinner hour. My mistake. Faculty often return for a post-perennial top-off-the day session of a little more work. So, I was in for another half hour of e-problem solving.
The issue was curriculum revision. Although we have not yet had the first meeting of this academic year, I am the default chair of the division curriculum committee. Default because I have served as the chair for the past several years. Default because no one else wants to add committee work to their late evening task list. Default because I tend to get things done.
In preparation for our first meeting of the academic year, I went through emails saved in my "curriculum" mailbox. I was searching for items for the agenda that I vaguely remembered being sent to me over the past couple of months. Our "satellite" and local online certificate programs each have a minor revision. Those got added to the agenda and documents posted online for the committee to see. Then I found the biggie. Biggie in the sense of not being clear cut, being somewhere between minor and not minor, involving an ardent emailer.
The particulars are not the issue. The issue is that none of the fussing, the paperwork, the ethereally supported consensus building gets seen or noticed until it shows up on a list of courses that are required for a degree. So very few ever ask why or how we come up with that list of courses. The list everyone notices and abides by. But no one really notices the committee, unless it is not meeting and getting work done or is holding up proposals that need to move along from division to school to campus curriculum committees.
It occurs to me that the work of this committee, the group of 3 or 4 or 5 of us that meet once a month, is oddly the very core of academia. Smart people trying to create, maintain, evolve a curriculum for an unpredictable future of individuals we do not yet know. It's worked in the past. We assume that what we create will work in the future. But, this seemingly obscure little committee actually determines the character of the degrees and certificates offered by our division. We, as a faculty self-governance committee, influence the reputation of the school and thus the school's financial health.
The issue was curriculum revision. Although we have not yet had the first meeting of this academic year, I am the default chair of the division curriculum committee. Default because I have served as the chair for the past several years. Default because no one else wants to add committee work to their late evening task list. Default because I tend to get things done.
In preparation for our first meeting of the academic year, I went through emails saved in my "curriculum" mailbox. I was searching for items for the agenda that I vaguely remembered being sent to me over the past couple of months. Our "satellite" and local online certificate programs each have a minor revision. Those got added to the agenda and documents posted online for the committee to see. Then I found the biggie. Biggie in the sense of not being clear cut, being somewhere between minor and not minor, involving an ardent emailer.
The particulars are not the issue. The issue is that none of the fussing, the paperwork, the ethereally supported consensus building gets seen or noticed until it shows up on a list of courses that are required for a degree. So very few ever ask why or how we come up with that list of courses. The list everyone notices and abides by. But no one really notices the committee, unless it is not meeting and getting work done or is holding up proposals that need to move along from division to school to campus curriculum committees.
It occurs to me that the work of this committee, the group of 3 or 4 or 5 of us that meet once a month, is oddly the very core of academia. Smart people trying to create, maintain, evolve a curriculum for an unpredictable future of individuals we do not yet know. It's worked in the past. We assume that what we create will work in the future. But, this seemingly obscure little committee actually determines the character of the degrees and certificates offered by our division. We, as a faculty self-governance committee, influence the reputation of the school and thus the school's financial health.
01 September 2010
Classes and Students
The 10th day of the semester gives the magic number: how many students we actually have registered. But, half way through this second week, I'd say we have a lot. The classrooms look full, with laptops half hiding faces, table tops covered with paper, and the faint hint of body heat seeping in to the hallways.
By the second class (for those of us doing once a week seminar class), we have a sense of the students siting around the table. With years of experience, we can make educated guesses about who has the most to learn, who will contribute, who we need to watch or manage. It's our work. Naturally, there can be surprises, hopefully good ones.
I'm starting the semester on a relative calm. The major projects from the summer are finished: the consultancy with the Chilean Ministry of Health, the class in Chile, the summer conferences, the manuscript revisions, and fall semester course preparation. And, the big anxiety generator has shifted to simply being work ~ the AHRQ conference has people registered. Whew!
I know that this calm streak will not last long, so I'm going to enjoy it, spread some relaxation, and give support to my stressed out colleagues.
By the second class (for those of us doing once a week seminar class), we have a sense of the students siting around the table. With years of experience, we can make educated guesses about who has the most to learn, who will contribute, who we need to watch or manage. It's our work. Naturally, there can be surprises, hopefully good ones.
I'm starting the semester on a relative calm. The major projects from the summer are finished: the consultancy with the Chilean Ministry of Health, the class in Chile, the summer conferences, the manuscript revisions, and fall semester course preparation. And, the big anxiety generator has shifted to simply being work ~ the AHRQ conference has people registered. Whew!
I know that this calm streak will not last long, so I'm going to enjoy it, spread some relaxation, and give support to my stressed out colleagues.
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