Auto-dialogue

“Writing is, of course, Ev’s legacy. He used the process of putting felt tipped pen to paper as a means of threshing out the chaff, of refining his ideas, and, most bluntly, of thinking. Ev Rogers is an exemplar of E. M. Forster’s saying about human learning: “How do I know what I think till I see what I say?” Ev understood better than most of us that we do not know and then commit to write; rather, writing like talking is thinking, process not outcome. Creativity, as Max Weber said and as we know, is about bringing intellect to bear on the persistent and emotional pursuit of an idea until you’ve got it right. That’s how Ev Rogers engaged himself on a daily basis.”
-Jim Dearing via Arvind Singhal

I talk to myself. A lot.

There, I said it. The jig is up! But evidently, this “quirk” of mine isn’t quite as far beyond the pale as I’d originally believed. Perhaps it isn’t even abnormal at all. (The fact that I audio-record my musings… well… now we might be getting into unique territory. But anyway.) The how of it, though, is worth closer examination. So is the why.

According to the Mayo Clinic, “Self-talk is the endless stream of unspoken thoughts that run through your head every day. These automatic thoughts can be positive or negative.” The ramifications of their valence are serious. These stories we tell ourselves — about the world, notably about ourselves — structure our reality. Whether the world is a kind or mean place, whether effort can lead to change, whether we are good enough — those are difficult phenomena to measure objectively*, especially if they’re subconsciously articulated; mostly, we take these things on faith. And they not only impinge upon our psychic comfort, but they can sink or support our health. Some benefits that positive thinking may provide include:

Increased life span
Lower rates of depression
Lower levels of distress
Greater resistance to the common cold
Better psychological and physical well-being
Reduced risk of death from cardiovascular disease
Better coping skills during hardships and times of stress

So how do we talk to ourselves? Gently? Harshly? Fairly? Rationally? In which modes — deliberately or subconsciously; textually (e.g., via journaling), orally (e.g., via narrating), expressively (e.g., via dancing or painting), or behaviorally (e.g., via self-caring or self-harming)?

For what purpose? Ev Rogers, mentor of my mentor, harnessed auto-dialogue to make sense of inchoate ideas and discover, in a sense, his own mind. Stuart Smalley, now Senator Franken’s (in)famous SNL character, tapped it to get through his day. In the emotion regulation game Dojo‘s current iteration, players are supposed to call upon positive self-talk in order to tolerate: a torrent of invasive questions, an unpredictable cyber handslap, and the temptation to slap back. I wonder whether this forum provides an ideal space for practicing positive self-talk. I wonder whether scenarios in which players must find the bright side in an ambiguous situation, or counter a derogation with an affirmation, might be more apt…

What happens when we steal the mic, capture the conversation, program our cerebral talkradio DJs to only (or mostly) give voice to our nascent, deep, unique truths… and rhapsodize about our beauty? How will our worlds change? Then how will we change the world?


*Is there such a thing as objectivity?
NOTE: This photo was taken in a museum in St. Louis, Senegal, Summer 2010. It reads (according to my imperfect translation skills): “With nothing but your voice/ You can fill the mountain/ and empty the sea,/ you can deliver to the sky/ all the the salt of the sea/ and bring back one great day/ the words of those absent.”

Numbers

“A dominant group, controlling the production of knowledge, shapes the construction and distribution of numbers, in order to convey authority and legitimize certain perspectives” (Wilkins, 2008, p. 17).
“Dating is a numbers game” (conventional wisdom).

Our country may be terrible at math and lousy when it comes to balancing its checkbook — but boy does it love numbers! Numbers are messianic; numbers are truth. And, in certain circumstances, numbers can be bought and sold to the highest bidder! Step right up, step right up, shape em, bend em, bring em home to your kids. Insignificant details or calls to action — pick your flavor! They can even julienne fries!

The problem, of course, is there might be no “there” there. Not only do I distrust the methods that produced most numbers, but I distrust the interpretation of their significance. An unpublished manuscript by Dr. Karin Wilkins (2008) urges numerical literacy: “This literacy needs to advance us toward asking the fundamental questions that resist obedient acceptance of numbers as objective truth” (p. 21). A recent (and heavily trafficked) Op-Ed by Paul Krugman declares plainly, “nobody understands debt.”

In other words, the emperor has no clothes on; and who made him emperor anyway?

My colleagues and I have been on a literacies quest. We’ve been crusading for the new media literacies, which is related to media literacy and social and emotional literacy; now I think we have to add numerical literacy into the salad bowl (don’t you call it a melting pot!).

I also might have to launch my own Torpedo of Truth Tour when it comes to dating. Through literature reviews and participant-observation, I can affirm that dating is not merely a “numbers game.” Its sampling frame, communicative modes, discursive material, and experimental activities differ widely according to participants’ narratives or “dating scripts.” Thus, driving up your numbers will never produce the desired outcome if you’re fishing in the wrong pond, or dangling the wrong bait, or misunderstanding the nibble on the line. Considering contextual variables is more demanding to do, and more tongue-twisting to mention, than parroting a pithy formula, but them’s the breaks. Reliable facts rarely make good soundbytes.

We need to stop valuing mnemonics above reality. The world is gray; accept it. And somebody get that emperor a robe, for crying out loud. It’s getting embarrassing…

Brainstorm

It was sunny in Los Angeles, 12 noon, and I’d just eaten a wedge of cheese. But still. I was cold. I was tired. And I was hungry.

While the prospect of going home and taking a nap enticed me, especially after I got lost looking for Ollin Cafe, then arrived only to find that it’d been transformed into a Mexican bakery, I pushed on. I found another coffeeshop (run by a Ghanian man whose grant for a non-profit African culture youth program I offered to edit) and read about pedagogy. When Don had to close his shop early, I again stifled the impulse to close shop myself and instead relocated to Starbucks.

There, at a crusty table co-occupied by antisocial, screen-glued men, inspiration began to flow… I don’t know that this will actually BECOME my dissertation. Most likely, the final product will barely resemble this outline. Nonetheless, I think I’m onto something here. And boy, do I feel proud…

NOTE: The formatting below is improper — not indented as it should be. If you’d like to see it in its hierarchical glory, click on the hyperlink above.
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Dissertation: Strategic curricular approaches to social change interventions

I. Introduction
A. Hook: Allegorical anecdote
B. Thesis: Social change interventions, whether explicitly educational or otherwise, should employ strategies that are versatile/adaptable and address the whole person; such strategies include: creating a culture of participatory learning, and adopting means and ends oriented towards primary skills development.
C. Overview of paper

II. Review of lit/theoretical background
A. Participation and play
1. Participation
2. Play
B. Primary skill set
1. Asset appreciation (AA)
2. Social and emotional learning (SEL)
3. New media literacies (NML)
4. Narrative
C. Domestic education interventions
1. Current challenges
i. lack of funding
ii. test scores: low and invalid
iii. health/safety challenges
iv. cultural shifts
2. Prevailing perspectives
i. it’s lazy teachers’ fault
ii. it’s non-standardized curriculum’s fault
iii. it’s marginalized students’ fault
iv. it’s lack of technology’s fault
3. Programs/solutions
i. Status quo or even regressive: NCLB
ii. Status quo or ancillary or inadequate: Charter & pilot schools
iii. Innovative: Foundation initiatives (e.g., MacArthur’s YouMedia); Independent entities (e.g., Globaloria); University partnerships (e.g., USC’s Hybrid High or Pathfinder)
D. International social change interventions
1. Current challenges
i. lack of funding
ii. volatility: things keep changing
iii. complexity: things are intertwined
iv. idiosyncrasies: things are particular to context
2. Prevailing perspectives
i. top-down
ii. bottom-up
3. Programs/solutions
i. Status quo or even regressive: Externally produced, highly structured, “add water and stir” programs
ii. Status quo or ancillary or inadequate: Programs that allow for token or modest modification by recipients
iii. Innovative: Positive deviance; Participatory/community-oriented development

III. Argument
A. Definitions
1. Participatory learning
i. culture/norms of context: describes basic community functioning, the ways that we treat one another, the rights and responsibilities that community members have in that space — to receive feedback, access roles, pursue passions, etc;
ii. activities of learner: describes the ways that the learner engages with the curriculum — avidly, with perseverance, enriching participation/performance with dialogue
iii. theoretical origins: participatory culture; digital media & learning; educational theory
2. Primary skills
i. mode/means: use a skill-oriented activity as vehicle for exploring content; for example, learn photography through social awareness and appropriation
ii. objective/ends: proficiency in these skills is a goal of the program (whether this is the sole or priority goal can vary; arguably, richer and more efficient if it is not the sole goal)
iii. theoretical origins: arts integration; positive deviance; asset-based community development; appreciative inquiry; human development/resilience
B. The Case for Participatory Learning
1. we live in a dynamic world of constant change
2. learning how to learn, and making that experience community-supported and interest/passion-driven, is infinitely valuable
C. The Case for Primary Skills
1. owning modifiable knowledge-skills-practices efficiently prepares us for diverse contexts (regardless of whether these contexts are volatile)
2. treating the whole person is most effective
3. AA, SEL, NML, Narrative = fundamental (Community, culture, work, meaning)

III. Methods
A. Summer Sandbox
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure
B. Sunukaddu
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure
C. Explore Locally, Excel Digitally
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure
D. Playing Outside the Box
1. Participants
2. Materials
3. Design
4. Procedure

IV. Results
A. Participatory Learning Case Study: Summer Sandbox
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains
B. Skills-based Case Study: Sunukaddu
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains
C. Hybrid: Explore Locally, Excel Digitally
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains
D. Hybrid: Playing Outside the Box (encompassing Play On Workshops)
1. Program description
2. Participants’ gains

V. Discussion
A. Gains in context
1. Program challenges
2. Comparisons to other programs
3. Small sample size
4. Critique of assessment tools
C. Context: Informal vs. formal learning environments, Educational interventions vs. other social change endeavors
D. Audience: Practicing teachers vs. preservice teachers vs. administrators vs. parents vs. students
E. Culture: Outsider consultants, preaching to the choir?

VI. Conclusion
A. Review
B. Other potential areas of research

Perspective

Point of view is a powerful thing.

You come to India expecting mobs, reek, cacophony, vibrance, destitution, opulence, lawlessness, bureaucracy… and you might wind up disappointed. Hard to say. Have you gone it alone in Senegal first? Are the servants of Mumbai’s upper class attending to you presently? If so… then yes. You might find yourself remarking, as my roommate/co-teacher Emily and I did, cushioned in the leather-upholstered, air-conditioned private car driven by our employer’s chauffeur, that this is no big deal.

At the same time, it’s an enormous deal. We traveled halfway around the planet!

(And it took less than a day. From LA to Frankfurt, I chatted with an LA-based, ethnically Greek, dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker who’s promised to introduce me to a man whose family owns most of Santa Monica’s streets (?), and a mother and daughter giddily anticipating 15 days in Italy and dreaming of improvements to Toyota’s philanthropy. In Frankfurt, I walked off the turbulence, looked over foreign interpretations of American food, books, and magazines, snoozed for 30 minutes on a thoughtfully placed cot, and skedaddled. From Frankfurt to Mumbai, I was out like a light. Presto. Semi-circumnavigation.)

The time difference between LA and Mumbai? 12.5 hours. Who knew that there were halves? That’s how far away I am – the international dateline is divided up into fractions!

(And yet, you can call me at my regular phone number as if I were in LA/Glenview/Somerville right beside you – no financial difference on your end or mine. Connection’s clear as a bell.)

We spent part of the day with Monali, our boss Vasundhara’s assistant, and the other part with Malika, our Indian-based co-teacher*. We observed their subtly different cultural practices, the nuances in their account-making. We wondered how nationality shaped our views, and how class shaped theirs. We contrasted the stories and experiences of our predecessors to our own observations and activities. “Some things in Mumbai are cheap if you compare them to the States,” Malika explained. “But Mumbai is not cheap…”

The view out our living room window to the right? Luxurious residential highrises. The view out the left? A glimpse of the slum.

As we exited the bustling vegetarian restaurant where we had supped, a popular destination for upper middle-class families, Malika bestowed upon grimy beggar children the leftovers that our round-bellied, pathogen-averse bodies couldn’t handle. She was careful to give the bags to girls and to admonish the boys who sought to tear the foodstuffs from their hands. I watched the second girl, a scrappy fighter who lost the battle for the outer bag but won the war for the inner container. She scowled and held on. What is justice when all are hungry?

The driver pulled up and we slid into the backseat, reuniting with the bags of high-quality, culture- and climate-appropriate tunics we had purchased hours earlier. “No big deal,” we sighed, as Vikram sped towards the Jollymaker III, honking the whole way.

It’s not our fault that our amenities are gilded. But if we fail to challenge this, to complacently ride in our privileged bubble, then we will be at fault. We will have turned this opportunity into a restriction, fashioned a gilded cage that keeps out alternate realities and holds hostage our potential experiences and understandings.

From now on, we vowed: We’re walking.
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Patterns

You have to listen for them. They’re there.

I was blessed back in 1998 (to be technical, I’ve been blessed every day before and since, but anyway) when I was cast in Northwestern University’s Titanic Players and began to study improv. I could wax for hours in pretentious, art-meets-philosophy mumbojumbo-speak about how improv is life, but I’ll spare us all the trouble. You’re welcome.*

Laura and I go back to 1996, a coupla north suburban Chicago speech team kids diving into the dysfunctional waters of the National Forensics Tournament in Fayetteville, NC… We were also teammates on Titanic. Last night, I saw Laura improvise with Chet Watkins in New York City. And while I’m far from my collegiate crisp salad days in Titanic, far even from my mid-20’s wilted greens days in Valid Hysteria, I like to think I’ve still got the eye, or the ear, for improv.

Patterns were everywhere.

The great improvisers recognize a pattern’s potential with the second element aired, and cement it for the rest of us with number three. Decent improvisers respect number three.  Greatness again can be achieved or avoided in what you do with it. The greats play the pattern, just play out the game the pattern delivers, so simple, so satisfying. The less great complicate; they deny the pattern, think they’re better, more clever than the pattern…

Let’s not get too technical, that really isn’t the point. Laura and I talked about her show a bit as we trekked out to Brooklyn, then switched to relationships.** We talked about me and mine, her and hers, our friends and theirs. Was it the priming device of improv that night, or the cognitive framework of improv in general, that influenced our perspectives? Laura called out the first one, a doozy, that.

Patterns were everywhere.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: Fundamentally, improv isn’t really about patterns… not really. Improv is about listening. I foreshadowed it in the first paragaph, saying you had to listen for em. You see how I did that? :-)

Our challenge, then, is to listen. You do need a little savvy to distinguish the pattern from the noise. Sure. But if you’re not listening in the first place, you won’t pick up on a blessed thing — nothing. It’s all a bewildering, limitless expanse, no knowing what’s coming next, no smart way to accommodate.

In The Tipping Point, Gladwell disclosed how telegraph operators analyzed enemy communications. This is separate from Bletchley Park, Alan Turing, the Enigma machine, all of that. Regular old telegraph operators learned their counterparts’ “fist,” or the unique signature with which they communicated — their pressure and tempo on the telegraph keys, as well as the expansiveness and pacing of their interpersonal chatter. While the Allied listeners didn’t know precisely what the Axis operators were saying, they knew which unique communicator was doing the talking. Gladwell likened this to a relationship’s DNA, an ingrained communication style shaping each interchange — a dynamic. A pattern.

So what are we going to do with it? How do we achieve greatness? To what extent are our personal and interpersonal patterns inescapable? Where is innovation possible, advisable, not just a (doomed?) vanity project of proving one’s “extraordinariness,” and where do we surrender to the pattern and play it out (or exit stage left)?

Tonight I’ll take in Meg‘s improv show with The Baldwins. Meg has been one of my best friends since 1994, and thanks to her and her fiance, my car stereo/heart is richer by two CD’s (lady power mix and sad country, respectively). Wonder if/how we’ll hear the patterns… and what we’ll do next.

*I happen to believe that improv is life, and improv’s approaches to good playing could be embraced as approaches to good living (shouldn’t life be lived playfully, afterall?). But then maybe you’ll come back with an example of how yoga or guitar-playing is life and I just really don’t want to get into it. ;-)

**See, this is where long-form improvisers would chime in, Improv is relationships!