Yesterday our class embarked on a voyage into the 21st century with something called an EdCafe. For two classes beforehand we had been researching a World War II-related topic, and during our EdCafe we each led a small group discussion on our topic.
Well, that was the idea at least. In the end, each "discussion" was really just a presentation by the lead student on the topic they led. It was great to hear about some of the lesser-known figures and battles and whatnot, but I think the point was lost a little bit. There was a lot of talking and hearing, but not much speaking and listening.
I think this is kind of inevitable given the circumstances. The only place we really have discussions on anything is English class, and even then there's a topic that was chosen by the teacher and some times the teacher will gently nudge the class in a specific direction. Expecting students to discuss to lead discussions on anything might be a little optimistic.
I think there are two things that are necessary for making EdCafes work. The first is consistency. If we devoted one week in a month to an EdCafe, by November we'd all get the gist of it and I think EdCafes would be wildly successful. I also think if, before we started researching our topics, the fact that EdCafes are built around discussions was stressed a bit more we would've done much better. We were all looking for answers instead of questions.
EdCafes could be really neat. We just need to find a way to make discussions the focus instead of lectures.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
American and German Propaganda
After watching the start of both Triumph of the Will and Why We Fight back to back, I was struck by one key difference: Triumph of the Will was a clearly nationalist "documentary" about the government that created it, while Why We Fight was a subtly nationalist "documentary" that promoted its government by placing itself in opposition to the enemy. While the Nazi Party was trying to rile up support for a way by loudly declaring that Germany was in the right, the American government simply pointed out faults in its opposition.
That's a key difference because, while the Americans were clearly implying that they knew the "real" way to affect change in the world, that "rightness" was supposedly demonstrated by the "wrongness" of other doctrines. This is an important part of American identity. From monarchy to communism, the US has debated and fought against forms of government that it saw unfit for the modern world. You'll hear the names of these systems of government casually thrown around on the political stage. The worst thing you can be called is a fascist, or a Nazi, or a communist.
So Why We Fight was, as the title suggests, an explanation for the American people. While completely condescending and without acknowledging the damage the Allies did at Versailles, the movie did a pretty goof job of outlining what was wrong with recent developments. I don't think there are many people who would be comfortable saying that 1930's Japan was moving in a good direction. I think that's true for 1930's Germany and 1930's Italy as well. But who knows. Maybe we've all been raised on propaganda.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
The Life Boats
Black Tuesday was the result of a confidence in the market that was suddenly shattered. When the confidence disappeared, banks became unwilling to hand out loans and the economy stagnated. But that only happened because there was nothing to indicate that the market could be headed for a downturn. At the time, the only metric economists used to evaluate the health of the market was the Dow Jones Index. Economist Irving Fisher somehow had the guts to say "stock prices have reached what looks like a permanently high plateau" shortly before Black Tuesday.
When that confidence was suddenly shattered, the market almost completely collapsed. The signs were there - the 1% owned more wealth that it ever had before and bubbles were formed - but at that point the economic system hadn't developed enough litmus tests to monitor the health of the Stock Market and the American economy.
That probably won't happen again. These days, we have a whole industry based on measuring the relative strength of the financial system instead of just looking at the mean value of 30 stocks. Confidence in the system is essential for a healthy economy. The Great Depression, much like the Titanic, led to the adoption of safety measures across the board that protect investors and the companies they invest in. Companies like FINRA prosecute investors and companies that aren't playing by standards that were set in response to the great depression. The SEC both dominates college football and operates as a public defender of the integrity of the market. Because of the battle in the courts between the SEC and private corporate lawyers, generally the bankers who play by the rules intelligently prosper and those that don't fail.
So yes, there will be recessions. Bubbles will pop and people will default on their loans and the market will crash. But because of the rules set in place after the Great Depression, it is unlikely that this country will see a catastrophe on the same scale again.
When that confidence was suddenly shattered, the market almost completely collapsed. The signs were there - the 1% owned more wealth that it ever had before and bubbles were formed - but at that point the economic system hadn't developed enough litmus tests to monitor the health of the Stock Market and the American economy.
That probably won't happen again. These days, we have a whole industry based on measuring the relative strength of the financial system instead of just looking at the mean value of 30 stocks. Confidence in the system is essential for a healthy economy. The Great Depression, much like the Titanic, led to the adoption of safety measures across the board that protect investors and the companies they invest in. Companies like FINRA prosecute investors and companies that aren't playing by standards that were set in response to the great depression. The SEC both dominates college football and operates as a public defender of the integrity of the market. Because of the battle in the courts between the SEC and private corporate lawyers, generally the bankers who play by the rules intelligently prosper and those that don't fail.
So yes, there will be recessions. Bubbles will pop and people will default on their loans and the market will crash. But because of the rules set in place after the Great Depression, it is unlikely that this country will see a catastrophe on the same scale again.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Cars 2
It's been a little over a month since my last blog entry on the American Dream, and not much has changed on my end. I still appreciate the idea that you can achieve success simply by working hard and I think it's a good thing that our country has collectively decided to give such an important value so much lip service.
But there are some damaging effects too. When people conclude that working hard equals success and not working hard equals not success, the obvious conclusion is that poor people are poor because they're lazy and rich people are rich because they're driven. And that would be the case in a perfect meritocracy. The unfortunate truth is that we don't live in a perfect meritocracy.
So you end up with a lot of people who work hard and some people "make it" but most don't, and that divides people pretty quickly. Many of the people who "make it" conclude that they have something - brains, discipline, great hair - that the poor people don't. You'll hear politicians talk about it all the time. John Boehner went onto 60 Minutes a few years ago and cried while he talked about how he worked his way up from being a janitor. The theme of the latest RNC was "We Built It". In reference to the 47% of Americans who don't pay federal income tax, Mitt Romney said "My job is not to worry about those people. I'll never convince them they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives."
The implication is that these people - almost half the country - don't end up paying income tax because they're inferior, and therefore we shouldn't worry about them. That's an awful way of looking at the world, and it's enabled by the belief that if poor people would just work harder they'd be more successful.
But there are some damaging effects too. When people conclude that working hard equals success and not working hard equals not success, the obvious conclusion is that poor people are poor because they're lazy and rich people are rich because they're driven. And that would be the case in a perfect meritocracy. The unfortunate truth is that we don't live in a perfect meritocracy.
So you end up with a lot of people who work hard and some people "make it" but most don't, and that divides people pretty quickly. Many of the people who "make it" conclude that they have something - brains, discipline, great hair - that the poor people don't. You'll hear politicians talk about it all the time. John Boehner went onto 60 Minutes a few years ago and cried while he talked about how he worked his way up from being a janitor. The theme of the latest RNC was "We Built It". In reference to the 47% of Americans who don't pay federal income tax, Mitt Romney said "My job is not to worry about those people. I'll never convince them they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives."
The implication is that these people - almost half the country - don't end up paying income tax because they're inferior, and therefore we shouldn't worry about them. That's an awful way of looking at the world, and it's enabled by the belief that if poor people would just work harder they'd be more successful.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
The Cars
The American Dream is alive and well. Its rationality is questionable but the idea that we can, through hard work and maybe a little luck, move our family up the social ladder, is still prevelant. Current political rhetoric is filled with references to the meritocracy that we are supposed to aspire to (We Built It, bootstraps, social safety net/crutch, etc.). The titles of this post and my blog, once again, are ripped from a song about the American Dream.
A lot of people will say that to them the American Dream means white picket fences, a chicken in every pot, and an unhealthy fear of the displaced. Neighborhoods, as Ernest Hemingway put it, "of wide lawns and narrow minds". But to me the American Dream is a little bit more broad and much more personal. To me the American Dream means giving your children a better chance at happiness than you had. That could mean a more stable home, a better financial position, or a bigger rolodex. I've seen the American Dream play out before my eyes as I've watched my father's career and rise to a much higher level of affluence than our family has seen. As a kid I listened to my dad's keyboard tic-tack until past midnight every weekend and we've had to cancel trips to Orioles games or walks to the park because he had to be on an urgent conference call. His American Dream required sacrifices. It usually does.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaanyways. That's what the American Dream is to me. We'll see if this has changed in a few weeks.
A lot of people will say that to them the American Dream means white picket fences, a chicken in every pot, and an unhealthy fear of the displaced. Neighborhoods, as Ernest Hemingway put it, "of wide lawns and narrow minds". But to me the American Dream is a little bit more broad and much more personal. To me the American Dream means giving your children a better chance at happiness than you had. That could mean a more stable home, a better financial position, or a bigger rolodex. I've seen the American Dream play out before my eyes as I've watched my father's career and rise to a much higher level of affluence than our family has seen. As a kid I listened to my dad's keyboard tic-tack until past midnight every weekend and we've had to cancel trips to Orioles games or walks to the park because he had to be on an urgent conference call. His American Dream required sacrifices. It usually does.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaanyways. That's what the American Dream is to me. We'll see if this has changed in a few weeks.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Empty and Aching
As a high school junior preparing for college I appear to have reached a crossroads in my life. If I work hard for the next year and a half I'll make it to whatever college I want (tuition not withstanding) and from there I can pursue every intellectual subject under the sun. This, of course, is a favorite topic of adults in my life who would like me to achieve whatever their definition of success is. Parents and grandparents and family friends who truly want me to do well in life often ask me what I plan to do in life, and to be honest it's a fair question. The problem is I have no idea.
Well, that's no completely true. I have some idea. I have binders full of ideas, in fact. That's one of the problems. Paralysis by choice is not something that I expected to have to deal with when I began my search for a career at four years old. I thought it was either baseball player, astronaut, or firefighter and everything else was for boring people with no ambition. But here I am now, not playing baseball or studying astronomy or doing whatever people do to become a firefighter. Instead I'm writing this blog post two weeks late because I procrastinate on everything that doesn't have whatever I consider "meaning" (i.e. serious entertainment value). I, who in pre-k complained to my parents about not being given worksheets and instead being expected to enjoy sandboxes, have completely lost everything that I love about school. As a result the idea of subjecting myself to four more years of "learning"' (seven if I go to grad school) is, frankly, horrifying.
Theoretically school should be something that I thoroughly enjoy. Take poetry, for example. Before last year's english class, my experience with poems was limited to the ones in the margins of New Yorker articles and song lyrics. And I love analyzing lyrics. The name of my blog is a reference to a song. So is, I've just decided, the title of this blog post. But for some reason poetry just didn't click. We read Long Legged Fly by W.B. Yeats and it just didn't connect with me the way Paul Simon and Mark Knopfler could. I quickly became incredibly cynical towards poetry and ruined the whole experience for myself. And then a strange thing happened. Two days after school ended I showed my mom the poetry we had studied. While I was reading Long Legged Fly to her it hit me. Hard. Suddenly I appreciated how beautiful poetry is and how my english teacher could stand to teach it over and over and over again. It was like without the context of an impending quiz or exam or in-class discussion I had the opportunity to let the poem live in a way that could only happen out of genuine curiosity.
So here I am, heading towards the type of dull life that people who aren't baseball players, astronauts, or firefighters live. It is no coincidence that none of the things I'd like to pursue were learned in school. There are a lot of them. History, particularly the way culture has evolved is fascinating to me and it ties in with one of my other interests as well (social science). I also love statistics. This comes as a result of my lifetime of baseball fanaticism and all the Moneyball-types of performance measurements that come along with the National Pasttime. But most of all I want to major in philosophy. There are a multitude of reasons to love a philosophy major in college and exactly one to hate it (finances). If we lived in a communist society or I won the lottery I would totally try to get a job teaching philosophy and publishing my own work at a college. But I'm worried about actually pursuing any of those interests because I am fairly sure that they would be completely ruined by a structured education. Philosophy and Lit is offered at my school as an english elective, and I'd love to learn all about it. But I don't want to make one of my hobbies work. So when I'm asked what I want to do with my life I usually pass it off with a joke like "win the lottery" or "become a rapper", depending on the audience. I just have no idea what in the world wouldn't be ruined by school.
Maybe some day I'll find my "calling" or whatever everyone says you should pursue. Until then I'll be playing Mega Millions.
Well, that's no completely true. I have some idea. I have binders full of ideas, in fact. That's one of the problems. Paralysis by choice is not something that I expected to have to deal with when I began my search for a career at four years old. I thought it was either baseball player, astronaut, or firefighter and everything else was for boring people with no ambition. But here I am now, not playing baseball or studying astronomy or doing whatever people do to become a firefighter. Instead I'm writing this blog post two weeks late because I procrastinate on everything that doesn't have whatever I consider "meaning" (i.e. serious entertainment value). I, who in pre-k complained to my parents about not being given worksheets and instead being expected to enjoy sandboxes, have completely lost everything that I love about school. As a result the idea of subjecting myself to four more years of "learning"' (seven if I go to grad school) is, frankly, horrifying.
Theoretically school should be something that I thoroughly enjoy. Take poetry, for example. Before last year's english class, my experience with poems was limited to the ones in the margins of New Yorker articles and song lyrics. And I love analyzing lyrics. The name of my blog is a reference to a song. So is, I've just decided, the title of this blog post. But for some reason poetry just didn't click. We read Long Legged Fly by W.B. Yeats and it just didn't connect with me the way Paul Simon and Mark Knopfler could. I quickly became incredibly cynical towards poetry and ruined the whole experience for myself. And then a strange thing happened. Two days after school ended I showed my mom the poetry we had studied. While I was reading Long Legged Fly to her it hit me. Hard. Suddenly I appreciated how beautiful poetry is and how my english teacher could stand to teach it over and over and over again. It was like without the context of an impending quiz or exam or in-class discussion I had the opportunity to let the poem live in a way that could only happen out of genuine curiosity.
So here I am, heading towards the type of dull life that people who aren't baseball players, astronauts, or firefighters live. It is no coincidence that none of the things I'd like to pursue were learned in school. There are a lot of them. History, particularly the way culture has evolved is fascinating to me and it ties in with one of my other interests as well (social science). I also love statistics. This comes as a result of my lifetime of baseball fanaticism and all the Moneyball-types of performance measurements that come along with the National Pasttime. But most of all I want to major in philosophy. There are a multitude of reasons to love a philosophy major in college and exactly one to hate it (finances). If we lived in a communist society or I won the lottery I would totally try to get a job teaching philosophy and publishing my own work at a college. But I'm worried about actually pursuing any of those interests because I am fairly sure that they would be completely ruined by a structured education. Philosophy and Lit is offered at my school as an english elective, and I'd love to learn all about it. But I don't want to make one of my hobbies work. So when I'm asked what I want to do with my life I usually pass it off with a joke like "win the lottery" or "become a rapper", depending on the audience. I just have no idea what in the world wouldn't be ruined by school.
Maybe some day I'll find my "calling" or whatever everyone says you should pursue. Until then I'll be playing Mega Millions.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Traditiooooooooooooooon! Tradition!
Religion has been an important part of my whole life. My parents met in Israel as they attempted to make sense of the Baptist teachings they had been following in their pre-adult lives. My mother graduated from Philadelphia Biblical University, where her father was the headmaster, with a degree in Bible studies. My father was adopted by missionaries who raised their child in the only religious practice they had ever known. Both of my parents stopped going to church after the divorce until I dragged my mom back because I thought I would go to hell for sleeping in on Sunday.
My parents and I are the only people in my entire extended family who don't regularly attend church, and the split from the church life was a difficult one. It wasn't hard because of the theology - both of them had struggled to reconcile the differences between scripture and what they considered to be right. And it wasn't because of any actual pressure from family. It was so hard to leave because of the community that they were losing. After the divorce my mom and I lived for a whole month off of green-bean casserole brought to us by concerned members of the congregation. I still celebrate Easter with my cousins every year. And every December I listen intently as my grandfather reads his favorite sections of Luke, Matthew, Mark, and John. I no longer believe in the divinity of Christ or in the Virgin Birth, but there's something to be gained in the shared experience that religion gives. The power of community that religion holds is one of the reasons for the rise of the far right.
My grandparents visited last weekend. A few years ago they moved from their house in the picturesque mountains of Tennessee to the cul-de-sacs of a Christian retirement home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. They've always been heavily involved in the Evangelical Christian community and it turns out that a good number of their friends have moved into the same retirement home. Lately the dinner talk has been all about catching up with old friends. Matthew Hooper is a pastor now in Florida and Saul McGuire has gone to Indonesia for a missionary trip and on, and on, and on. Everyone in their universe believes the same thing they do.
And everyone my cousins know goes to their megachurch, and my grandpa on my dad's side has stuck with his church because its his support group. For the believers I know religion is more than the beliefs outlined in their favorite book of the Bible. Its everyone they know and everywhere they go and almost everything they think about. This phenomenon is not limited to Christianity either. I have friends who are "culturally Jewish". I've attended the mitzvahs of people who don't believe in the Burning Bush or Noah's Ark.
So naturally as the internet and cable give us the choice to listen to our own opinion dressed in a suit the religious right has become just as polarized as the rest of the nation. Some of my relatives in Indiana think the idea of evolution is just as preposterous as most Friends students consider creationism. Religion is even more potent because along with it comes the baggage of the afterlife, morality, and the meaning of life.
A belief in a strict set of rules and the relative ignorance of any opposing viewpoint ends up stirring a great deal of people up. Just ask Australia.
My parents and I are the only people in my entire extended family who don't regularly attend church, and the split from the church life was a difficult one. It wasn't hard because of the theology - both of them had struggled to reconcile the differences between scripture and what they considered to be right. And it wasn't because of any actual pressure from family. It was so hard to leave because of the community that they were losing. After the divorce my mom and I lived for a whole month off of green-bean casserole brought to us by concerned members of the congregation. I still celebrate Easter with my cousins every year. And every December I listen intently as my grandfather reads his favorite sections of Luke, Matthew, Mark, and John. I no longer believe in the divinity of Christ or in the Virgin Birth, but there's something to be gained in the shared experience that religion gives. The power of community that religion holds is one of the reasons for the rise of the far right.
My grandparents visited last weekend. A few years ago they moved from their house in the picturesque mountains of Tennessee to the cul-de-sacs of a Christian retirement home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. They've always been heavily involved in the Evangelical Christian community and it turns out that a good number of their friends have moved into the same retirement home. Lately the dinner talk has been all about catching up with old friends. Matthew Hooper is a pastor now in Florida and Saul McGuire has gone to Indonesia for a missionary trip and on, and on, and on. Everyone in their universe believes the same thing they do.
And everyone my cousins know goes to their megachurch, and my grandpa on my dad's side has stuck with his church because its his support group. For the believers I know religion is more than the beliefs outlined in their favorite book of the Bible. Its everyone they know and everywhere they go and almost everything they think about. This phenomenon is not limited to Christianity either. I have friends who are "culturally Jewish". I've attended the mitzvahs of people who don't believe in the Burning Bush or Noah's Ark.
So naturally as the internet and cable give us the choice to listen to our own opinion dressed in a suit the religious right has become just as polarized as the rest of the nation. Some of my relatives in Indiana think the idea of evolution is just as preposterous as most Friends students consider creationism. Religion is even more potent because along with it comes the baggage of the afterlife, morality, and the meaning of life.
A belief in a strict set of rules and the relative ignorance of any opposing viewpoint ends up stirring a great deal of people up. Just ask Australia.
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