Unfortunately, Blogger can't load the link (or I can't figure out how to load it) that will take you to the Saturday Night Live "University of Westfield Online" sketch of two weeks ago. It's a thinly veiled reference to a university that you may recognize.
The fake advertisement says or implies a number of things about online education: that one can get one's degree in one's pajamas, that employers are not keen to hire graduates of an online college, that what one "learns" there is how to cover up one's education, and that it only takes four months to graduate.
As friends of mine have pointed out, none of these statements is necessarily true. But that's not the point, any more than CNN fact-checking SNL's sketch about President Obama's lack of accomplishment is relevant. It's not the truth of the statements, but the perception that they represent that should interest us, and that we should listen to.
Basically, why people laugh is because they tend to believe that 1) online education is easier, 2) online education is less rigorous, and 3) that because of these two things, online education doesn't take as long. If one believes (as I do) that online education can be as rigorous and interesting as campus education, then one should ask where these perceptions have come from.
The university being parodied now has hundreds of thousands of graduates, many from online programs. How many of them are talking about the quality (or lack of it) of their education? Intel has discontinued financial aid for MBA students from this university--why is that? Now it's not as though the players and writers of SNL are actually academics; some of them probably haven't even gone to much, if any, college. They may be the voice of the East Coast, but they are in touch with the urban culture there. Maybe they're like Gary Trudeau, a social liberal but educational conservative, who for years has decried what he sees as slipping standards at Yale (parodied in Doonesbury as Walden College).
It might just be the case that it's the real-life experience of online college students, and the experience of their employers, that's giving the material here. As in any educational situation, it's all in the execution, not in the medium. If those of us in online education do it right, then these satires will go away (or at least change their form).
Monday, October 19, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Ken Burns, on The National Parks, America's Best Idea
Chris and I got hooked a couple of weeks ago on the Ken Burns multi-day special The National Parks, America's Best Idea. The photography was stunning, and since we're both national park fanatics, the early episodes were (to me) very interesting. I believe that I missed the last night or two.
It's interesting that some things never change: America in the late nineteenth century was as acquisitive and ecologically unaware as most people in America are today. Arizona and its rapacious water and development industry was, if anything, worse in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Grand Canyon almost didn't become a national park because of some developer/miner from Arizona who became a senator. I don't remember his name, but that's OK, because he doesn't actually deserve mention. What an exemplar of a type that still exists in this state--someone who thinks that all we need is more water and development, that the landscape means little, except the view.
Anyhow, it's also interesting that Niagra Falls was used through the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries as the poster child for how private development and tourist exploitation can wreck scenes of superb natural interest and beauty. The watchword seemed to be "don't turn Yosemite or Yellowstone into Niagra Falls." It was this attitude on the part of the public that was certainly a catalyst for the development of the national parks.
It was also a lesson in the way that individuals can move the national conversation and will in such a way that good things happen. Of course, John Muir was that spokesperson for Yosemite and Yellowstone, and interestingly, became the patron saint of most of the early national parks. Also, the first National Park Service director, whose name I can't now recall, used his advertising and promotional sense to popularize the parks to the nation at the critical time.
Finally, the early twentieth century also saw the birth of use-conservation as well as the classic Sierra Club environmental movement. Gifford Pinchot, the force behind the National Forest system, had a different, multi-use, idea, that probably saved much more acreage of wilderness than the National Park system did. So, are the National Forests America's second best idea?
It's interesting that some things never change: America in the late nineteenth century was as acquisitive and ecologically unaware as most people in America are today. Arizona and its rapacious water and development industry was, if anything, worse in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Grand Canyon almost didn't become a national park because of some developer/miner from Arizona who became a senator. I don't remember his name, but that's OK, because he doesn't actually deserve mention. What an exemplar of a type that still exists in this state--someone who thinks that all we need is more water and development, that the landscape means little, except the view.
Anyhow, it's also interesting that Niagra Falls was used through the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries as the poster child for how private development and tourist exploitation can wreck scenes of superb natural interest and beauty. The watchword seemed to be "don't turn Yosemite or Yellowstone into Niagra Falls." It was this attitude on the part of the public that was certainly a catalyst for the development of the national parks.
It was also a lesson in the way that individuals can move the national conversation and will in such a way that good things happen. Of course, John Muir was that spokesperson for Yosemite and Yellowstone, and interestingly, became the patron saint of most of the early national parks. Also, the first National Park Service director, whose name I can't now recall, used his advertising and promotional sense to popularize the parks to the nation at the critical time.
Finally, the early twentieth century also saw the birth of use-conservation as well as the classic Sierra Club environmental movement. Gifford Pinchot, the force behind the National Forest system, had a different, multi-use, idea, that probably saved much more acreage of wilderness than the National Park system did. So, are the National Forests America's second best idea?
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Silent Sundays at South Mountain Park
In preparation for the MS 150 in March 2010, I've tried to get out with other GCU people on some rides. So far, the most consistent has been the Silent Sunday rides for the past two months. From the parking lot to the San Juan Lookout is 6.3 miles, by odometer. So, to the lookout and back is 12.6 miles, while it's a 3.4 mile climb to the intersection of the two summit roads, one to a lookout pavilion, and the other to a group of antennas. So far, 19.4 miles total round trip.
Once upon a time (1990 or so), I (in an incautious moment) mountain biked up the National Trail to the antennas with a college student. It was hard, and more acrobatic than I actually was.
Since then, I've never been back to the antennas. Last month, I made it partway up the climb. (That's the trash can picture.) This month, I've made it to the intersection split (pictured). Next month, maybe to the lookout or the antennas.
I really like this trail, winding as it does through high Sonoran desert landscape. It also gives a good workout.
Once upon a time (1990 or so), I (in an incautious moment) mountain biked up the National Trail to the antennas with a college student. It was hard, and more acrobatic than I actually was.
Since then, I've never been back to the antennas. Last month, I made it partway up the climb. (That's the trash can picture.) This month, I've made it to the intersection split (pictured). Next month, maybe to the lookout or the antennas.
I really like this trail, winding as it does through high Sonoran desert landscape. It also gives a good workout.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Duchess
Of course, a movie starring Kiera Knightly is always going to be visually interesting, but this film ended up being surprisingly dissatisfying. It may be that I'm not a fan of the genre of modern Romance, which is what this movie ended up being. In Northrop Frye's terms, Romance has the structure of comedy (disorder to order), plus exotic settings and interesting noble characters.
This picture, instead, played up the "modern Romance" conventions one sees in such books as Shogun, Gaijin, and the Thorn Birds. The "main characters" have lives that never turn out well; it does not end in relationship, but in a kind of stasis. In the Thorn Birds, for example, the great lovers are torn apart by the calling of the male character, having only one night together. In Gaijin, the putative hero dies of his wounds relatively early on in the novel, leaving no character focus.
In the same way, The Duchess not only compresses the heroine's love life into a few weeks in Bath, it falsifies history as well. In history, the duchess's affair lasted for years.
I'm beginning to believe that there's something to Frye's (and Aristotle's) contention that the actual structures and archetypes of literature carry a special meaning.
This picture, instead, played up the "modern Romance" conventions one sees in such books as Shogun, Gaijin, and the Thorn Birds. The "main characters" have lives that never turn out well; it does not end in relationship, but in a kind of stasis. In the Thorn Birds, for example, the great lovers are torn apart by the calling of the male character, having only one night together. In Gaijin, the putative hero dies of his wounds relatively early on in the novel, leaving no character focus.
In the same way, The Duchess not only compresses the heroine's love life into a few weeks in Bath, it falsifies history as well. In history, the duchess's affair lasted for years.
I'm beginning to believe that there's something to Frye's (and Aristotle's) contention that the actual structures and archetypes of literature carry a special meaning.
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Dark Knight
A couple of days ago, I watched Batman: The Dark Knight, at my son's suggestion. It is different. It's more noir and "realistic" than the others; Christian Bale is the same, but they had to replace Katie Holmes with Maggie Gyllenhaal. One of my friends yesterday said that she hated the movie because, among other things, she felt that Heath Ledger's depiction of the Joker was over the top, and not at all funny. I, on the other hand, found it to be an intriguing look at the incipient anarchy of humor, and the way that unrestrained humor becomes horror.
I'm always intrigued by the rejection of the "hero" concept. The movie also provided an interesting definition of it: "A hero is someone who plays by the rules--always--and saves society." Given this, Batman can't be a hero, because he doesn't play by the legal rules. But he is a hero because he covers up Harvey Dent's descent into madness, in favor of Dent's image as a hero. So, the concept is exposed as a lie, and the Dark Knight becomes a new definition of the term: self-sacrificing for the society when he instructs Gordon to "tell them I killed those people," since people need an heroic image to believe in. In the same way, Alfred burns the last letter from Gyllenhaal's character because Bruce Wayne still needs something to believe in.
Thus, the traditional concept of the hero is deconstructed-- it's not following the rules, it's one's motivation for action that becomes heroism.
I was also intrigued by the incipient apologia for waterboarding and harsh interrogation methods in the questioning of the Joker in the city jail.
I'm always intrigued by the rejection of the "hero" concept. The movie also provided an interesting definition of it: "A hero is someone who plays by the rules--always--and saves society." Given this, Batman can't be a hero, because he doesn't play by the legal rules. But he is a hero because he covers up Harvey Dent's descent into madness, in favor of Dent's image as a hero. So, the concept is exposed as a lie, and the Dark Knight becomes a new definition of the term: self-sacrificing for the society when he instructs Gordon to "tell them I killed those people," since people need an heroic image to believe in. In the same way, Alfred burns the last letter from Gyllenhaal's character because Bruce Wayne still needs something to believe in.
Thus, the traditional concept of the hero is deconstructed-- it's not following the rules, it's one's motivation for action that becomes heroism.
I was also intrigued by the incipient apologia for waterboarding and harsh interrogation methods in the questioning of the Joker in the city jail.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
I saw the new movie Knowledge, starring Nick Cage. (Note: there may be plot spoilers coming, so if you want to see the movie, stop reading.) On principle, I have a problem with apocalyptic movies. Armageddon (Bruce Willis) was good, at least in part because the threatened apocalypse did not come about. The Left Behind series of movies was problematic because there's just a generic problem with apocalypse movies, as there is with the "evolutionary" kind of science fiction (you know, when humanity transforms into something other, with concomitant millennial consequences). I think the issue is that in general, audiences identify and sympathize with the hero, and when the hero dies, it produces the tragic effect. However, when the whole of humanity is wiped out, it goes beyond tragedy, as sci-fi goes beyond romance when humanity changes beyond recognition.
I am, however, interested in the repackaging of religious themes in contemporary movies, and Knowledge had that in abundance--Left Behind meets Erich von Daniken meets Armageddon.
So, why am I intrigued, though not completely sold on, Knowledge, while dissing the Left Behind series? I don't really know, if one leaves out better CGI. I suspect that apocalypse is a problem because there's an end to all tension if everyone's dead. Even if a new Eden or millennial existence results for a few, there's something inconceivable about humanity, essentially as we know it, suddenly coming to a complete end (maybe more than 5 billion of the earth's 6 billion being wiped out in an instant, with maybe a few thousand saved? There's a Schindler's List for you). Plus, for Left Behind, if one reads biblical prophecy, there's a millennial existence and Heaven at the end. John struggled to describe it, and such an existence would almost certainly be impossible to describe adequately by an earth-bound human. Literature is based on tension and conflict, so it's not clear where that goes.
I am, however, interested in the repackaging of religious themes in contemporary movies, and Knowledge had that in abundance--Left Behind meets Erich von Daniken meets Armageddon.
So, why am I intrigued, though not completely sold on, Knowledge, while dissing the Left Behind series? I don't really know, if one leaves out better CGI. I suspect that apocalypse is a problem because there's an end to all tension if everyone's dead. Even if a new Eden or millennial existence results for a few, there's something inconceivable about humanity, essentially as we know it, suddenly coming to a complete end (maybe more than 5 billion of the earth's 6 billion being wiped out in an instant, with maybe a few thousand saved? There's a Schindler's List for you). Plus, for Left Behind, if one reads biblical prophecy, there's a millennial existence and Heaven at the end. John struggled to describe it, and such an existence would almost certainly be impossible to describe adequately by an earth-bound human. Literature is based on tension and conflict, so it's not clear where that goes.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Charles Darwin at the Cambridge University Library
I just went to see the exhibit of manuscripts, letters, and specimens from the voyage of the Beagle, a trip of almost 5 years (1831-36) from which Charles Darwin derived the data that would result in the theory of evolution 20 years later. One tends to think of theorizers as people who sit in laboratories or libraries and write, but it's clear that Darwin used what the exhibit called his "gap year" to exhaustively examine the botany, biology and geology of especially South America, but also the Pacific. He managed to understand the importance of the ecosystem as environment.
When one considers the tensions arising from the theory of evolution through natural selection, it's interesting to think that it stands on such a wealth of observation, maybe the most comprehensive in the history of biology. And to see family letters, drawings, and specimens, as well as travel diaries, gives a sense of the richness of this episode in Darwin's life (as well as a sense of richness and complexity for the viewer of the exhibit). It's especially interesting that he almost didn't go; his father, a doctor, was against the idea at first. Darwin himself also saw it as a large and perhaps fruitless investment of time.
When one considers the tensions arising from the theory of evolution through natural selection, it's interesting to think that it stands on such a wealth of observation, maybe the most comprehensive in the history of biology. And to see family letters, drawings, and specimens, as well as travel diaries, gives a sense of the richness of this episode in Darwin's life (as well as a sense of richness and complexity for the viewer of the exhibit). It's especially interesting that he almost didn't go; his father, a doctor, was against the idea at first. Darwin himself also saw it as a large and perhaps fruitless investment of time.
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