Mathematics After The Fall

Compared to my last few selections, the two books today target a different audience. The first book is Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. It’s rhythmic, gentle, classic, and well worth a 60th anniversary edition. It even made me laugh once. As a way to help a child of 2 or 3 to sleep each night, Ms. Brown wrote well. It gets a 3 out of 5.

The second book has an even better title, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, a tale that one reviewer described as “onomatopoetic elegance.” The target audience is a little older, I think, children who are beginning to understand shape and letter. Mr. Martin has chosen bright bold colors; grey and muted blue make no appearance, and brown is restricted to tree trunks and coconuts. Instead, we get purple, pink, green, orange, and yellow. In the text, we get excellent rhyme, lyrics begging for music I wish I could write. The words want to be read aloud, “skit skat skoodle doot flip flop flee.” The small letters receive no permanent damage, as their mamas and papas and uncles and aunts hugged their little dears. The injuries are only stubbed toes and loose teeth and the like. This book is adorable. As a bonus, I really want to work the first line of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom into a test, “A told B, and B told C, I’ll meet you at the top of the coconut tree.” This book gets a 4 out of 5.

Why was I reading books for children under four? I received recommendations for gifts for a couple I know, who had their first child on the 14th. I may just keep these, and add a few Dr. Seuss books, so when couples with young children come to visit, they’ll have options for their kids. The Loop trains are no longer outside my window. That’s good for guests. It wasn’t supposed to be illuminating. I saw something in these books, despite my intentions. I just wanted to throw this little aside into a serious set of reviews. Sigh. I overthink everything.

So, what did I see? I saw the difference between how Americans view children and adults. The children’s section was bright and colorful, while the other sections, well, were not. Adults treat children with gentility and kindness, trying to be lively and optimistic. Changes are dramatic. Why don’t the people that treat children, and even animals (watch some people around dogs and cats), treat grown ups with the same liveliness and promise?

It might be the idea of promise, that children have possibilities, while adults are locked into patterns. But that doesn’t make sense for animals. There’s a possibility about innocence, well displayed by the legendary Britney Spears in “Baby One More Time”. That might be right, but instead, what if it’s about vulnerability? Young children and animals generally don’t cause harm. Well, unless you’re a young boy recovering from Legg Perthes, still learning to walk, and the neighbor’s dog is larger and faster than you, and likes to charge a lot. That might be terrifying. Hypothetically, you know. Like that ever could happen.

What I mean is that children are not competition. Without the need for defense, women and men can be encouraging. That’s bright and hopeful and colorful. Why can’t that be true everywhere? Maybe we read Paul in 1st Corinthians 13 too strictly when he recalls that “when I became a man, I put aside childish things.” Though immaturity and impulsiveness should be put away, Encouragement isn’t childish! Brightness and cheer aren’t childish!

Or maybe they are and I live in an unreal world. Tough.

Goodnight nobody.

After covering theology and anthropology, I searched for other views of Millenials. Like the other posts, any view will be a vast overgeneralization, and I’m not claiming otherwise. Even a full page is a snapshot of my thoughts, and these are book reviews, not full pages. They’re immediate viewpoints, or as immediate as I get. 

Today’s look at Millenials comes from an embedded investigation, from a 24 year old Stanford grad. Jeremy Iversen managed to enroll as Jeremy Hughes, a second semester senior at what he calls Mirador High, in the Emerald Valley of Orange County, California. It’s really Claremont High. It’s 59 degrees F there right now, which sounds nice compared to the 18 degrees in Louisville. His account is contained in the book High School Confidential, available now in trade paperback.

Even before it was published, questions arose about the book’s honesty. The author admits that he changed names, made composite people, and chose guide stars. Since most of the characters are underage, and standard IRB consent would be impossible for anyone, it’s a necessary subtraction. When news came out, some people tried to pretend, as in this column, that the situation was creepy, but people knew all along and fed Mr. Iversen exaggerated rumors. That doesn’t seem true. While I suspect he listed only the most shocking events, the wildest parties and craziest teacher comments, I don’t think these events were false. From seeing what freshmen do, it doesn’t surprise me to see high school seniors doing the same thing. Notice that I said some students. It’s not everyone. Only a slim majority of high school students drink, and those are the ones who have wild parties. The other half, where I lived, has less debauchery, but that doesn’t make for good stories. One unfortunate point is that Mr. Iversen talks about the 50% statistic primarily in the endnotes.

Before I move on to the Millenials, I want to attack the LA Times column by Bob Sipchen. Mr. Sipchen has two Pulitzer Prizes, one for spot reporting and one for editorials on mentally ill people, so he’s done some good work. This column is not one of those pieces. Mr. Sipchen thinks that Mr. Iversen tricked the principal and superintendent, was a creepy predator, and worked to satisfy his own coming-of-age fantasies. The revelations about Claremont came from high school newspaper journalists; the controversy helped push the superintendent out the door. According to the fifty-something columnist, at the end, “Hollywood would be better off buying the rights to the student journalists’ story. It’s a more dramatic yarn, and they told it without conning anyone or qualifying the word true.”Wait a minute! There’s an interesting point buried deep in the Boomer’s column. He admits that the Claremont students he reached generally didn’t know Jeremy. In other words, they reported that they weren’t embarrassed after the fact. “Everyone” knew. Right. I’m over 30 and without trying am considered an undergraduate often enough at Bellarmine; a 24 year old could easily be 18 or 19. Mr. Sipchen quotes a student at Northwestern. The comments of this blog entry contains one claim of falseness and a better school, from an AP student. Keep reading the comments, and an anonymous person defends the book’s authenticity with real names. The AP student backpedals. Of course AP teachers are better, and AP students care. They’re the top tenth. Between the blog and the column, the attackers were in the top tenth, while the two people that knew Jeremy vouched for the book. That sways me. The high schoolers have shame to cover their leap, plus in many cases, the good students had different experiences. On the other hand, an esteemed journalist should classify sources into primary and secondary ranks, and trust primary sources better. Bob Sipchen doesn’t write about news anymore; he’s editor of Sierra. The Sierra Club magazine is a great perch from which to critique and moan like an overindulgent Boomer.

Back to the book. There wasn’t too much new here for me. The biggest revelation was the casual attitude about steroids. It’s not a shock that girls prefer muscular men, and that intellect and political wit don’t matter much. My story, and my writings, illustrate those points. I am surprised that steroids were recommended so freely and casually, because there are serious side effects. Plus, only some people knew they often cause the opposite effect on an important male body part. Beyond that, of course some students party hard and take studies lightly. There are always bad teachers and creepy teachers. It is disheartening that they can stay so easily, but that’s a story for another time. The most depressing thing was that WACS was misled so easily, given the problems within the school. Then again, without unannounced visits, it’s always easy to make things clean. Literally, too; the soap dispensers got soap just for the visit.

This is not a good book. Despite my general belief, there are still questions about validity that can’t be avoided by composite semi-anonymous accounts. Furthermore, Mr. Iversen does have a problem with tone. At the beginning and end, his emotions are heavily involved, but in the middle, he disappears. He states that it’s because it’s not his story, but his presence is missed. It was his story. It is partially his story. He needs to tell us when he’s there, as opposed to second hand reports. That involves just little lines, like “I sat in the stands at the powder puff game” or “We talked while picking up beer cups.” Without that narration, the story runs wilder than the kids. Ultimately, though there are illuminating stories, the lack of consistent voice dooms this tale to a 2 out of 5.

Late in the semester, Bellarmine faculty literally packed the Fireplace Room for a talk about generations. Over one-quarter of the faculty showed. Half that count would be nice when my collaborator and I present in early February. The conversation focused on the differences between pre-Boomers, Baby Boomers, Generation X, and the current college Millenials. Each generation attempts to fix some flaws of the prior one. For instance, pre-Boomers had a large focus on community and sacrifice, with the Depression and Great War. Boomers maintained the outward idea of process, while privately revolting against stifling convention. My people, Generation X, fixed the grave contradiction between public and private, and can no longer believe in hypocritical institutions. We kept private focus and reduced hypocrisy, but destroyed the public process; we preferring to do separate things and interlink them. Wikipedia could only be a Gen X creation. The latest group, Millenials, maintained the suspicion of Gen X, but wanted some interconnectedness. Their groups became extremely tight and extremely compact, a short loop. With better communication, keeping in touch with close friends and family becomes paramount. My generation had abandoned kids; we offer helicopter parents to the millenials. If you look closely, you can see a pattern:

1. Wilderness, neither private nor public groups: Generation X.
2. Village, private but not public: Millenials.
3. City, private and public: pre-Boomers and likely post-Millenials.
4. Destruction, not private but public: Boomers.

One problem with education is that senior teachers are two generations removed from their students. There have been changes in the 15 years since I began college. Without my time at the Catholic center, I would be removed now. People 30 years away have to be distant. To examine the changes, people write books like My Freshman Year. It has a psuedonym of Rebekah Nathan from AnyU, though the author was revealed as anthropologist Cathy Small from Northern Arizona University. Northern Arizona is a fourth-tier large state school. The ACT quartile range is 20-25; Bellarmine’s is 22-27. There are differences between normal and elite institutions, and smaller and larger schools, thus I’m going to concentrate on the major points, particularly those that surprised me about American students. As Dr. Small notes, international students find the American system confusing, more outwardly affable yet more inwardly hollow.

What do students want? Friendly Fun in College Culture. “Friendly fun is associated with spontaneity, sociability, laughter, and behavior (including sexuality) that is unconstrained.” Formal rules come from outside, which need to be minimized or avoided. Several students called classes the “price one has to pay” for access to college culture. That stings. I never thought that. To be fair, I didn’t take enough advantage of Harvard’s culture, focusing instead on class learning and knowledge building. I enjoy academics. I savor the pursuit of knowledge, politics, and theology. Most of her students don’t; neither do most of mine. We professors need to remember that our students don’t look for consciousness; they seek interest and relevance.

How much do students study? Less than what professors work. For each in-class hour, I spend very close to two hours between preparation, grading, and reporting. Professors generally recommend that 2:1 ratio. At Harvard, I followed that 2:1 ratio; I allocated 8-10 hours weekly for most classes. Computer Science and Math took more.
Looking back, I followed the ratio because I was a motivated student in a challenging program at an elite institution. That’s a very small portion of the college population. In general, the quartiles of the study time distribution are much less. The median student studies less than ONE hour outside class for each hour of instruction. National surveys report that; Dr. Small reports that; the group from my class that surveyed study time reported that. None of the data points from my class reached 2:1.
Given this information, I’ve decided to go for 1:1. If my students did that, I’d be pleased. It hurts to reduce the goal, but one of my strengths as a statistician is the ability to follow the evidence, no matter how painful. I’ve done it before and need to do it again.

How do students organize themselves? As individuals, in compartments. Universities often cite a large amount of activities and events as evidence of the much-desired community, and large counts of minorities as diversity. That’s not true. Large counts with small attendance are the exact opposite of community. I call it Balkanization, but today’s students might not know Yugoslavia. As the author writes, “Community in the American university is paradoxically a private and an individual decision.” The shared group with general membership and goals has disappeared. I’ve seen the idea, but only the idea, thanks to Boomer corruption. We in Gen X couldn’t even provide the concept to the Millenials. Now, students have close friend groups of less than six. New dorms have individual bedrooms and bathrooms, larger private spaces at the expense of hall areas. 15 years ago, we used common rooms from time to time, and converted spaces into common rooms when necessary. Now, the Super Bowl is a good example. The hall big-screen TV attracted FIVE people. Instead, people had festivities inside individual rooms.

Individualism also applies to actions in class. Dr. Small’s work as a professor was very illuminating. In her anthropology class, she asks the lecture hall to identify the witch. Typically, students identify the best students from the professor’s eyes, those engaged and prepared. Aligning with the professor is suspicious, like witchcraft. As a student, she felt this push towards silence. I shouldn’t be surprised, because I spoke little in undergraduate classes. At my large elite school, though, lecture halls were normal and even small classes taught in lecture style. Recitations led by graduate students rarely served the intended purpose of discussion. Most became sequential statements of opinion. At least one TA checked off when we spoke, so I made sure to speak once per class, thoughtful or not. “Yes, but …” was the phrase to ensure the participation point, though it didn’t lead to coherence or flow.

On the other hand, my Bellarmine class is (barely) small enough to allow personal notice, and I include time for practice and questions. Like many professors, I consider students speaking a success. Perhaps I need to reconsider. My goal is not students speaking, it’s students learning. If quick answer questions don’t help and make students uncomfortable, I should rethink my approach.

Finally, how do students view school and us professors? As things to be managed. Student reports suggest a boss and worker relationship. Like schedules and workload, professors need to be managed. The workers must be publicly friendly, while private opinions may differ. That’s OK; I will be affable as well, but we won’t be friends. An evaluator can’t be a friend, anyway, since the intimacy of true equality can’t happen. Instead, we get strategies.

One management strategy suggests sitting in the area of the center T, the front row and the center aisle. Knowing this, I try hard to spread my time throughout the room; I might even underserve people directly in front of me.
Others relate to tone. I understand the students. We’re not in this together; they have substantially different goals than I. I don’t think the ideal of academic purity ever existed, but it certainly does not now. From a philosopher’s perspective, Economic Man has won. Every action balances cost and reward. If the students look at class as work, I’m willing to be the boss. I’m willing to learn about them.

Oh, as for the book, it’s nice. Not everyone needs to read it, and I wish she would think a little more about reasons behind reasons, and her effect. Despite that, I learned a lot. It gets a 3 out of 5.

At Bellarmine, I work with Millennials, a new generation. Part of working with them is understanding their beliefs, which differ from mine. Each generation changes in many ways. I’ve been reading accounts to help me learn about their differences. The first of these reports is unChristian, discussing the changes in faith among those 16-29, who they call Mosaics (not Millennials, though I will use the Millennial label.) The authors, David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons, discuss the results of a major quantitative and qualitative study.This book gets a 3 out of 5. Let’s start with what’s wrong. The authors, like many evangelicals, are too heavily a part of Capitalism. Though the book is reasonably priced, the website relentlessly promotes the authors and book. The rotating advertisement suggests buying three books, not just one. The press section lists contact info for media inquiries, not a list of reviews; for the links of a typical press page, I must click on a sidebar. In one Borders I visited, the book was shrinkwrapped, making it impossible to browse. That may gather a few more sales, but does that get the message across? No. It just makes people a few more dollars. In the book, the authors assume all readers are like them; committed born-again Christians. The tone is similar to what I remember from InterVarsity; even as it talks about outsiders, it keeps an insular tone. Catholics barely exist; about the only mention is in Chuck Colson’s musing, “The defense of human life is a part of the gospel because it matters greatly to God. I think Catholics have a really good point in this.” The lack of reference to other good ideas, well, I’m used to that though I hope for more. These things hold the book back from being appropriate for a general audience, and from a higher rating.On the other hand, what good comes from the book? Data. Lots of numbers and interview quotes, even if the authors could use a refresher on the value of white space. The proportion of people who practice Christianity declines each generation; in the 16-29 group close to 40 percent are outsiders. The book then examines reasons for the decline. These are not sociological, which I hypothesized in A Nation of Kings; they focus on what people cite as reasons. They write about six major areas, which I’ll describe briefly.

1. Hypocritical: The sinful actions of professed Christians are the strongest argument against Christianity. Millennials don’t consider the disconnect between statement and practice unusual, though; it’s typical in how they see all large organizations.
2. Get Saved!: Focusing on making a profession of faith and being born again detract from having full relationships. The quote about Catholic expansion above comes from this chapter.
3. Antihomosexual: For many in the evangelical movement, it’s a rallying cry. Millennials are much more accepting of homosexuality than my Generation X, let alone prior generations; this shows the influence of culture. Even those uncomfortable with the idea look for respect and compassion, due to the issue’s complexity.
4. Sheltered: Many Christians have retreated into communities containing only similar Christians. They don’t know how to engage in a neutral fashion.
5. Too Political: Evangelical leaders strongly support the Republican Party in America, but the Party has many planks. Not many are associated with the Christian message, and those that are, like homosexuality, are relentlessly pushed.
6. Judgmental: Millennials are more uncomfortable with value judgments than prior generations. They see Christians as prideful and quick to find faults in others. This ties in somewhat with hypocritical.

I agree with all six flaws. Honestly, it’s amazing and a testament to the power of Jesus that given these shortcomings, anyone comes to Christianity. I could write entire posts on what to do about each problem, but there are many other tasks in my life. Therefore, I’ll keep this as just a review. Mr. Kinnaman and Mr. Lyons have set out the problems I and others have seen in a coherent format. For that I thank them, even if I believe they haven’t fully broken the Capitalist evangelical mold. Yet.

It should surprise almost nobody that I served as manager and statistician for my high school’s football team. Well, if you know me now, I’m reasonably sized, but I had a late puberty. At the beginning of tenth grade I was only 5′ 2″. As MTV Hits plays videos from my high school and college days - Cotton Eye Joe, Spice Girls, House of Pain - I’m reminded of those days. I’m also reminded of high school football through my Borders Book this fall, The Blind Side by Michael Lewis. Earlier this fall, I had reread Liar’s Poker, and a couple years ago I had purchased and read Moneyball. His latest work had received excellent reviews, so I wanted to read it eventually. I wasn’t that enthusiastic, though, so I read it in sessions over the fall at the bookstore. Borders is like my crack house. Every time I enter there, money disappears like an addiction. So I don’t go that often. I also try to browse something light. Over a few visits, where I generally purchase things, I also learn about something else. This fall, it was football.

Effectively, there are two parts to this book. The smaller portion is a description of line play from the 1980s to today. As defensive players got better, particularly Lawrence Taylor, offensive lines had to adapt and improve. This led to better athletes (though steroids also likely helped), new strategies, and more money. Linemen used to make much less than the glamour positions of running back and cornerback. Now, at least in pro circles if not the public, the gap is zero. Left tackle, the most important position on the line, is second only to quarterback in salary. Lewis presents a well researched, interesting history. Yet it’s just football, a topic of much less importance than it gets. That’s nice, but I wouldn’t read a book for football strategy anymore.

As the videos move to the “00’s Hits”, let’s also move to the other part of the book, an example of the new left tackle. That young man is Michael Oher, now through three seasons at the University of Mississippi, and barring injury, soon a high pick in the NFL Draft. Astonishingly, seven years ago he had never played football and was effectively homeless on the streets of Memphis. His parents, the school system, and the community had failed him. Somehow an elite Christian school accepts a black kid, even though he doesn’t immediately play sports. Mr. Oher gets noticed by a rich white family because he’s gigantic, sure, but also because he hung around the gym watching basketball practice because it was warm.

The individual story is great, but the football part is not that exciting. Overall, this book gets an average score, 2 out of 5. Now, I want to consider the question that the adoptive family, the Tuohys, did something wrong because their adopted son went to their college. Mr. Oher’s life was set for failure. Now, he has the chance at millions of dollars in football. Yet, even if somehow he breaks his legs tomorrow, he’s better off. Instead of a having an IQ of 80, he’s achieved at least high school level literacy. He has a home, clothing, credentials, and a chance. Let’s take the most cynical view, and say the Tuohys helped him ONLY to develop a football prospect for their alma mater. Is Michael Oher worse off because of their decision?

To answer this question, I’m reminded of one of the best episodes of a TV show. In The Left Wing, the first season Christmas episode had a great story. (It won an Emmy, deservedly.) One of the staffers donated a coat, which went to a homeless man who died. The staffer’s card was still in one pocket, so he got a phone call. He used the resources of the White House to get the homeless man, a Korean War veteran, an honor guard. In doing so, he exceeds his bounds, and the President gently chastises him by asking “if we start pulling strings like this, you don’t think every homeless veteran would come out of the woodworks?”

BCS football is a cesspool of sewage and rottenness. What would happen if instead of showering coaches with multi-million dollar contracts, renovating locker rooms for multi-millions of dollars, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars for hotels before HOME games, and building multi-million dollar all-weather practice facilities, the old white men who run the system searched out promising talent? Then got them appropriate clothing, a safe environment, and personal tutors?

I can only hope, sir.