Opinion

The other day, my kids were watching The Cat in the Hat Knows a lot about That, a television show on PBS loosely based on the adventures in the books written by Dr. Seuss. At the beginning of most episodes, the children in the program ask their moms if they can go on an adventure and then head off after receiving consent. This morning my son remarked that he does not understand why the show wastes time with the children asking for permission since their parents always say yes anyway. Then, my daughter remarked that the mother is so busy trying to get her work done that this is why she sends her off. I looked up from my laptop (where I, of course, was working while they watched this show) and remarked, well your mommy is not too busy, right? And they both just said, sometimes.

I engage in some ad hominem against Thomas Friedman because he deserves it.

The time comes eventually for most professors: watching a tryout for an eventual successor. Lezlie Laws considers the implications for herself and her institution.

Back in October I wrote a post on GradHacker about using checklists in research and as promised, I’m updating you on how I’ve integrated them into my data collection. In January I began to collect data for my thesis (yay!) and had the goal of using checklists to minimize common errors. This post will go over how I developed these checklists, their benefits, issues with implementation, and some final advice.

Student affairs professional association conference session topics are generally a direct reflection of practitioners in the field. Sessions at conferences span a wide array of functional areas, emerging trends, and competency-based tracks. However, there seems to be a trend at these events of favoring a certain demographic of student when it comes to session conversations. The default "student" is almost always an on-campus learner. Online learners are rarely included in session discussions.

Back in my faculty days at DeVry, during the Clinton years, students would ask me on a regular basis why they had to take “general education” courses, like mine. They would have preferred to do nothing other than their technical classes, and they weren’t shy about saying so. I told them that their technical skills would get them their first job, but that their analytical and communication skills would get them promoted. If they only ever wanted to work at the help desk, they didn’t need my class. But if they ever wanted to manage the people at the help desk, the stuff I helped them develop would be crucial.

The 30 essays in Presumed Incompetent expose a nasty truth about Academia: it is not above the realities of everyday American life. It, in fact, reproduces and reinforces society’s inequalities, stereotypes, and hierarchies within its own walls.