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Rowan

No title Tuesday

When we got in last night, the first thing I did was put my things down.

No, that’s too early, let me back up.

When we got in last night, we stood on the curb at the airport for some time. The place we used as a park-and-ride had one shuttle running to the airport the week before Christmas, which seemed smart. It was cold. We waited. But it was at least night to be out of an airport, off of planes. Our trip began just before 6 p.m. and we landed just after 11 p.m. Not bad, considering we had a short layover in Detroit. It turned out that we took the same plane, so we disembarked long enough to grab a bite, and then get back on the plane. For our first leg of the flight I sat next to a retired Delta pilot. He is now flying rich people around out of Detroit. There are, he said, five wealthy families in Detroit and six jets. Then he showed me his Christmas card from Bob Seger, who is one of those families.

We covered a lot of ground as we were flying over the ground. The styles of flying, how much money people typically earn before they buy a plane of their own, some of his anecdotes, and so on. He asked me what I do for a living, and I told him, and he found this interesting, so we talked about media for a long while. One of my former students is in Detroit, and he has surely seen him on CBS. He was very curious about the nature and process of media, and the conversation gave me more grist for my “people don’t understand what we do” mill.

It goes both ways, of course. I’ve been on many planes, and I can fly one just as well as he could produce a media product. We think we know about other things because of our experience, but it’s not an expertise. He told me the progency of the plane we were on, and told me about the insulation properties of the fuselage. I know nothing about his business. Now, let me explain the basics of local media economic models.

There’s going to be a hypothesis in there, somewhere, eventually.

We left him in Detroit, it was his last work for a week. It sounds like has a pretty good gig for a retired man. On the second leg of the trip I sat with my lovely bride. She watched a documentary, I caught up on the day’s news. I also learned that one of my former students will be on national television on Christmas Eve. She’s a meteorologist, having gone from Greenville, North Carolina to Albuquerque to San Francisco, a real talent, a credible forecaster and now she’s getting turns on national TV.

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I bet she could have told me whether I had on enough layers for the curbside cold. Standing there, getting on the shuttle, getting to the car and getting home, might have taken about the same amount of time as either one of our flights this evening.

And so, finally, the first thing I did was put my things down. Then I petted the cats. They were very insistent and full of attitude, as if to say “These are the hi-jinx you could have enjoyed if you’d been here the last week.”

Today, there has been a lot of desperate cuddling.

And a lot of loud complaining.

One of their friends spent the week with them. They had a good time. I saw the photos and videos. I’m not sure who they think they’re fooling with this act.

But the kitties are doing well. And all of the cuddling slowed down today’s grading. This last batch took the afternoon and the first half of the evening. Much longer than necessary, but the class was the class was the class.

I’ll submit the final grades tomorrow, marking the end of the fall term. I’ll take a few days off. And then, starting Saturday, I’ll go back to designing a new class for the spring term. This will be my third brand new class in as many terms, and my 11th new prep in six semesters.

That, if you are not in this business, is a lot.

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10
Dec 25

The ghosts of professors past

I had a mid-day meeting with students about a project in my online class. They were delightful and are prepared. They were also kind enough to indulge what, I am sure, sounded like an end-of-the-year ramble or two on my part.

This mysteriously appeared overnight from the office.

That wasn’t there last Thursday. Or last Friday. Or Monday. Or yesterday. I know because I was there each of those days, and I considered that very wall. It is conspicuous in its usual blankness. But, now, that sign.

Local lore has it that the campus spirits put it up, each term, just before commencement. The legyou listen carend is that the ghosts of old professors always walk with the graduates. If you listen carefully, you can hear their rustling, dusty robes.

Between the student group meeting and the next meeting I started spreading that story that I just made up. Maybe it’ll gain some traction. Especially if no one ever sees that sign come and go.

There was also a faculty meeting today. These are the things we know. These are the things we don’t know. Here is a brief recounting of some other meetings. And here are the next meetings you are encouraged to attend, including one next week!

Anyway, back to grading. The students in my online class, Social Media Strategies, are preparing for their final submission for the term. It is a visual presentation of a social media plan they’ve been working on all semester. Each group has a local non-profit they’ve been observing, and our assignments have grown through there. Now, a little extra feedback on their penultimate assignment may help them prepare that presentation.

But only if i can get that feedback to them.

The semester’s first final, meanwhile, will be turned in tomorrow.

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9
Dec 25

The semester’s last lecture

The last day of classes. We talked about the future of streaming media in the criticism class. We did an image repair exercise in the org comm class.

I’ve got this speech I give. At the beginning of the term I say that being at the front of the room gives me the opportunity to, from time-to-time, go off track from the class. I have this down to three speeches, two at the beginning of the semester and one at the end of the term. And today I remind them of the first two speeches. The first speech is about my hope to be a small part of them discovering the true value of education: the joy of learning. The second speech — particularly selfish, but they are my captive audience and this is my gimmick — is about being mindful of cyclists and other vulnerable road users when they drive.

Both groups nodded along that they remembered both speeches, which I gave on separate days in September. And then I launch into the third and final speech. I talk about the open mind you need in class. Next door to an open mind, I say, is an open heart. And around the corner is compassion.

I say to them, there is a time in life when the only thing of value you can give another person is your compassion. And there may be a time in your life — and I hope it is many, many, many years from now — when the only thing of value another person can give you is compassion. If you look at the world around us, I say, you can see that the world needs more compassion. It’s always been that way, and may always be that way. And so I ask them to nurture that compassion within them, so that when they are called upon to do so, they are ready to give it freely. That, I say, is why I end each class the same way. “Thank you for your time. I’ll see you next time. I hope to see you next semester in class or around campus. Until then, be safe, and be kind.”

And, then, for some reason, the students all clap at me, and most of them make a point of thanking me.

I don’t need those things, but I’m gratified to know that something here has meant enough for them to do so.

Some of our colleagues have decorated their doors for a holiday party tomorrow. This is my favorite one.

And here’s the sunset from the sixth floor. A sunset at 4:44 p.m.

And now it is finals time. My last final went online today. It is also meeting time. I have a faculty meeting tomorrow. I have a bunch of stuff to grade, too. Guess what I’ll be doing for the next week?!?

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4
Dec 25

Penultimate day of classes

I would not be so bold as to say I am the best teacher in the world. Nor would I be so self deprecating (yeah, I don’t know what’s going on with this sentence either) to suggest that I’m the worst teacher in the world. I’m probably somewhere right in the middle of the top tier or near the bottom of the “also receiving votes” bunch, depending on the material.

But no matter what, I can read a room. And today’s vibe, in two classes, was “Enough with this semester already.”

Just one more day of putting up with me after this, guys. You can do it.

We watched the highly compelling 30 for 30 documentary, “June 17, 1994.” No one has uploaded a trailer equal to the thing, but this is from Netflix.

It follows a unique day in sports history. The Rangers had won the Stanley Cup and there was a ticker tape parade in New York. Arnold Palmer was wrapping up his legendary PGA career with one last round. The Knicks and Rockets were fighting in the NBA playoffs. The World Cup was opened in the U.S. by President Bill Clinton. Ken Griffey Jr. had a day, and also, there was one other bit of news that evening.

This is the view from the sixth floor, and apparently the sun broke through just in time for the sunset.

O.J. Simpson in Al Cowlings’ white Bronco.

The documentary is different because it is told in original found, and archival footage. There’s no contemporary narration or interviews. It’s just editing selections, juxtaposition, musical score, and those video clips. It’s a nice 51 minute piece, which you can find on ESPN and, as of this writing, Netflix.

In org comm we talked some more about scandal and image repair. They’ll wrap up with image repair on Tuesday. And everyone will be into finals mode.

Even the sunset is sort of over the day, I think. Here’s the view from the sixth floor.

Two more classes to plan, six more course notes to send, and about 108 things to grade.

I counted them up on the drive home, in the pitch black of night.

It was 5:15.

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2
Dec 25

New look to the front page, btw

For fun, I made some certificates for colleagues. They’re all inside jokes for conference friends. Polite, smart, funny, kind-hearted people. One of them was about one guy picking on another guy. That second guy got one for being up for anything. Another certificate for was for someone running the circus. A third was for another guy, “and he knows why.”

He does not know why. But, you know, I don’t know why either. He’s just about the sweetest, most decent guy you could meet. If he’s ever done anything out of line no one knows about it and he’s buried it deeply in his subconscious. I could go on and on, but, really, we’re just lucky he’s a good friend.

Anyway, we all attend this one conference. And we’ve all held various leadership positions there over the years. We’re trying really hard to become the cool club within the club. Or just to amuse ourselves. One year, my lovely bride won the junior scholar award and at the conference and got a nice plaque. The next year, she won a top paper award and got a plaque. The year after that, I got a top paper award there. (I got nothing.) She also has some certificates from when she ran different divisions of that conference. I’ve run the same ones. (I got nothing.) In our text chat, the rest of the group realized they have been similarly shortchanged. So I made certificates.

Her certificate recognized her many conference achievements. So meta.

And so as to inoculate myself from a return joke, I made one for me.

That’s one of the two or three semi-notorious things I’ve said at that conference over the years. We were participating on a panel on the social constructs of this or that and I held up my phone and said something like, “We are all roaming little balls of hate with hate rectangles in our hands.”

Actually, I said exactly that. The quote was immortalized by someone who got a certificate today.

I get to see them in April, and I’m excited for it.

This evening I updated the images on the front page of the site. They look similar to the most recent version, but different. They look like this.

They are photos from a particular tree-covered road that I shot in October. And here I am, finally getting around to uploading them. This being one of my core hobbies, and being about five weeks behind on getting them here says a lot about my time management lately.

Maybe I’ll get better at it later this month, when the term is over, and the grades have been submitted.

At which time I’ll take three, maybe four deep breaths, and start planning for the spring term.

The good news is I only have one new class prep in the spring! (Three this semester was … a lot.) One class I have will be unchanged. The one will be new. And I’ll make some small adjustments to the criticism class. I’ll refine the details for that in a few days.

Yes, I have carved out two 15-minutes blocks of time, Thursday and next Tuesday, to figure that all out.

In today’s installment of the criticism class, we discussed this story. I chose it because it is a different sort of piece than anything we’ve read all fall. And I wanted the class to see the mechanics of how the writer wrote about the mechanics of deaf soccer. I played when I was a kid, and when I first saw this story last summer I thought, “How do they do that?” Soccer is basically played, and communicated, from behind you. But if no one can hear …

Soccer — and life — through the eyes of the U.S. deaf women’s national team

The first thing to know about deaf soccer is that it is soccer, and a match looks the same as at any level of the sport.

Instead of a loud, profanity-laced pregame speech from the most extroverted leader on the team, players gather in a circle and execute a synchronized movement of quick fist bumps and back-of-hand slaps. During the game, the center official raises a flag in addition to blowing their whistle for fouls and stoppages of play, and games are typically quieter than the average match that features more verbal communication.

From a technical standpoint, players must have hearing loss of at least 55 decibels in their “better ear” to qualify to play deaf soccer and, crucially, hearing aids are not allowed in games, ensuring all players are on a level playing field.

On a hearing team, communication often comes from the back. The goalkeeper and defenders see everything in front of them and can direct their teammates accordingly — and verbally.

“For us, that’s not possible, that’s not realistic,” Andrews says.

The process is more about inherent understanding and movement as a team. If a forward pushes high to chase a ball, everyone behind her must follow. Halftime or injury breaks become more important, Andrews says, because they represent rare opportunities to look at each other as a group.

One guy, at the bginning of class, wondered the same question. How does that work? I said, “You should read the story. It gets explained about 20 percent the way through the story, and it’s a good one, and you’d like it if you read it.”

He just smiled an embarrassed smile and put his head down for a while. We carried on.

We also read and discussed this story, How the Texans and a spa enabled Deshaun Watson’s troubling behavior, mostly for the troubling headline, so I could make some important points about headlines. But the copy is worth reading, too, if you can stomach it.

The accusations have been frequent and startling: more than two dozen women have said the football star Deshaun Watson harassed or assaulted them during massage appointments that Watson and his lawyers insist were innocuous.

Two grand juries in Texas this year declined to charge him criminally and, while the N.F.L. considers whether to discipline him, he has gotten another job, signing a five-year, $230 million fully guaranteed contract to play quarterback for the Cleveland Browns this coming season.

It is time, Watson and his representatives say, for everyone to move on.

Yet a New York Times examination of records, including depositions and evidence for the civil lawsuits as well as interviews of some of the women, showed that Watson engaged in more questionable behavior than previously known.

The Times’s review also showed that Watson’s conduct was enabled, knowingly or not, by the team he played for at the time, the Houston Texans, which provided the venue Watson used for some of the appointments. A team representative also furnished him with a nondisclosure agreement after a woman who is now suing him threatened online to expose his behavior.

In org comm we talked about crisis and conflict. Specifically, what are the differences between crises and scandals. This is one of those classes where you get to use popular instances of players the class knows and try to understand why things transpired as they did. For us, it is all building to next week’s work. And toward the final, but they don’t know that yet.