Britt's Blog

It’s a common pseudoscience tactic to appropriate the term “skepticism” for what is really something else entirely. I personally like the term “denialist,” (though I must apologize for not remembering where I first read it.) I think this eminently suits Young-Earth Creationists, Intelligent Design proponents, and the Moon hoax crowd, because they produce no original research that might advance science; they only deny. With few exceptions, they mostly just go rooting through somebody else’s hard work and cherry-pick bits that seem to support their argument—though nitpick is the far better term, as what they’re actually after is a flaw, any flaw, or, just as good, something they can portray as a flaw to their layman audience (because if you think they’re presenting their work at scientific conferences and in the peer-reviewed literature, think again). It doesn’t seem right to give them a name that suggests that they might have some sort of viable alternative hypothesis that they are laboring to support, defend, and refine (you know, like a scientist would.)

Ben Zaitchik of the Buffalo Beast suggests a different term for Creationists and self-styled climate change “skeptics” in The Negligents: How to convert ignorance into “skepticism.” He makes some excellent points about both groups, and also draws some very interesting parallels between them.

Keep an eye out for the Michael Crichton quote. It’s a doozy.

Curtains aren’t too complicated to sew—which is good, because my Singer-Fu is weak. But I really enjoyed putting them together. I did a very careful job of pressing the hems and seams, and a somewhat less tidy job of feeding it all through the sewing machine. Despite the triviality of it (can you get more banal than curtains?) the whole exercise was very meditative and deep, as though I was somehow tapping into the ur-feminine, the long chain of mothers and grandmothers teaching their daughters, back to the dawn of time. (Everything, in short, that Martha Stewart isn’t.)

Together with the rug, I think they make my office look very cozy and inviting. Stop by for office hours any time. :)

UPDATE: Closeups for Anne. (Click for the full size image.)
 

I feel guilty about leaving Dan in suspense, so I’ve finally gotten around to taking pictures of the finished cosy.

I steeked it by hand and crocheted around the opening. the results are lovely and functional, I think.

Now I’m going to have to recalibrate my knitting expectations… Back to classes, much less time for knitting away.

I’ve just completed my second read-through of GTD, after first reading the book about a year ago.

My main purpose for rereading is that I had fallen out of the habit of the weekly review, never mind the periodic big-picture review one is supposed to do.

In addition to getting my reviewing act together, the main benefit I got out of a second reading was a better understanding of projects—which makes some sense, since a major part of your weekly review is (or should be) a review of the projects list.

Projects in GTD seem to be a concept that a lot of people have some trouble with, and they’re the topic of a lot of discussion on blogs and in forums. As a result of rereading the book and thinking about my implementation and the nature of next actions, think I’ve come to a definition for project that works with my system: It’s a thing I want to accomplish that requires organization beyond a single next action.

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I’m glad that I read this memoir. I’m glad that I read it over my first winter break. If I had read it before I started teaching, I think I would have run, screaming.

Jim Lang describes his first year on the tenure track at a small liberal arts college. There were many struggles we had in common: trying to figure out how to relate to a strange, new bunch of students, planning too much, then too little, then too much for each class, looking at a stack of grading and being physically unable to pick up a red pen, obsessing over grading (Am I grading too hard or too easy? Do they think I’m a jerk or a chump?), trying to deal with students who are not succeeding and don’t care, being run down by illness which is exacerbated by stress, and generally being so busy that you shouldn’t have time to worry, but finding plenty of time to worry somehow anyway.

A colleague put it best. When asked how things were going toward the end of the fall semester, she said, in a perfect deadpan, “Better. I’m no longer crying all the time and for no reason.”

There’s also some guilty pleasure in observing things that went miserably for the author that I, by luck, design, or effort, managed to dodge. My department is too small for politics to really exist, and my chair does a fantastic job of giving feedback (largely positive, thank goodness.) Our service requirements in the first year are very light, and I’m not yet on any committees. Lucky breaks aside, I’m also rather smug about attending many lectures and cultural events on campus, something he wishes he’d done more of. And I think I did a reasonable job, under the circumstances, of carving out some kind of a “life” for myself, doing some things that I enjoy, spending time with my husband and my family. Admittedly, I don’t have two kids. That probably helped.

I notice, though, that we had some similar coping strategies, among them giving up on many, many battles. Some things you tell yourself “I will do a better job of this next semester.” Some things you tell yourself, “Uh, I should actually do that next semester, but it ain’t happening this fall.”

It’s always good to get some kind of outside perspective on the level of misery that, sadly, is normal and expected in your first year of teaching. I am lucky to have been part of a rather large incoming class of faculty, and we’ve been very supportive of one another, but I think also reading about the experience at other institutions is helpful. Yes, it really does suck this badly. No, it’s not because you’re stupid or lazy. It really is a freakin’ hard job that devours your life and leaves you a limp shell of a human being.

And, obviously, yes, we do it for a reason. I’m feeling no urge to wax mushy and go on about molding young minds and loving your field and crap, but, yeah, that’s the reason that we do it, and 90% of what you put yourself through has nothing to do with making tenure, it’s that you think that what you teach is the important and beautiful, and that your students are amazing people, and if cutting open your chest and passing around your still-beating heart as a lecture demo had a chance of inspiring our students to love and care about your subject the way that you do, you might seriously consider it.

I remember New Year’s Day last year. I remember telling myself:

2005 was the year I lost weight.
2005 was the year I stopped chewing my fingernails.
2005 was the year I started running.
2005 was the year I figured out how to get organized.

But I had a hard time feeling proud of those accomplishments. They were sharply diminished by the fact that 2005 was NOT the year I finished my thesis. That one thing made all the other things I’d done in 365 days seem trivial.

Well…

2006 was the year I finished my thesis.
2006 was the year I got the perfect job.
2006 was the year I moved away from my friends.
2006 was the year I moved closer to my family.
2006 was the year I was pretty much sick from August to January.
2006 was the year that I realized I am not a procrastinator, that I am not lazy, and that I have not wasted my potential, and that I cannot let a tough time in my life define who I am as a person, because I am a continually growing, changing human being.

And…

2007 will be the year my degree is officially granted.
2007 will be the year that I start an astronomy research program with bunch of smart, enthusiastic students.
2007 will be the year I learn to love Beloit College even more.

With luck…
2007 will be the year I build an observatory.
2007 will be the year I publish my first paper after graduate school.

And like every other year, 2007 will be the year I learn lots of physics, learn how to be a better teacher, knit lots of beautiful things, read a lot of good books, play lots of interesting games, and enjoy spending time with my friends, my colleagues, my husband and my family.

I hope that everyone has had a wonderful 2006 and is proud of all the things they have accomplished, and I wish everyone a safe, happy and productive 2007!