April 2008 Archives

Ok, so our plan to merge bilingual pedagogy, math and group relations took a bath but it dried out well enough to still be legible.

I'm proud to rub shoulders with one of this year's Distinguished Teachers: Shabnam Beheshti.

Godwin this

Posted by Eric Rauchway

On this day in 1945, only three days after the occupation of their city by French troops, the remaining full professors of the University of Freiburg assembled to elect new officers and to restore the customs under which they had operated before 1933, when their faculty, racially purged by the Nazis, elected as rector the philosopher Martin Heidegger. (All details here come from Hugo Ott; see more at the footnote.)1 [a]

This is not a parable or an analogy. It is a story of one episode in which civil authorities and academic governing bodies reckoned with a disastrous crossover between scholarship and politics.

One of the first orders of business for the reassembled professors was the question of what to do about Nazis among their colleagues. They chartered an internal review committee for the purpose, and tried to keep jurisdiction over this process, without success. City authorities were conducting their own reviews, and they designated Heidegger's house, among others, as a "Party residence" to be requisitioned for use. The university protested, based on the opinion of legal scholar Franz Böhm (an anti-Nazi dismissed from his post during Hitler's regime) that for "establishing political guilt" one needed "a proper court of law."

The French occupation authorities had actual jurisdiction over such cases, and they appointed a trio of professors who had been imprisoned under the Nazis to act and speak for the university. These three became the nucleus of the university's denazification commission, which in due course all but let Heidegger off. Their report in September 1945 acknowledged that he had stirred up the students against "reactionary" professors, that he

played an active part in transforming the university constitution
in line with the "leadership principle" and in introducing the outward
forms of Hitlerism (e.g. the Hitler salute…) into academic life … he
penalized or sacrificed persons who were opposed to the Nazis, and
even contributed directly to National Socialist election propaganda….

But he had been rector only a year before falling out with the party; as his onetime friend Karl Jaspers would later write, "the special brand of National Socialism he concocted for himself had precious little to do with the real thing."

The report concluded that as "[i]t would be a serious and lamentable loss" for someone as famous as Heidegger to go. He should do a limited amount of teaching, and no administration or examination. The French military government declared Heidegger "disponible," which was all but harmless.

One professor and member of the commission, Adolf Lampe, dissented. Along with Böhm and another anti-Nazi, Walter Eucken, Lampe began protesting formally. Böhm, the lawyer who had from the start urged a regard for procedure, noted that other academics had already suffered harsher punishments for their connection with the Nazis, and Heidegger should not therefore get off lightly; justice, as Böhm saw it, would have failed if it reached this inequitable conclusion. He wrote in October,

it makes me very bitter to think that one of the principal intellectual architects of the political betrayal of Germany's universities … should merely have been subjected to the stricture of "disponibilité", and clearly feels no need at all to answer for the consequences of his actions.

Observing Heidegger going about his business, agreeing to give lectures and generally enjoying the privileges of academic life again, Lampe concurred: "It must therefore be concluded that Herr Heidegger—contrary to what is assumed in the report placed before us by our denazification commission—has not undergone that radical change in his political thinking…. In the absence of such a change we had no business to exonerate Herr Heidegger…."

The French occupation authorities tried to defuse the growing crisis by offering to move Heidegger to the university at Tübingen. But Tübingen would not have him. So with the government unwilling to do much, the case against Heidegger became, Hugo Ott writes, "a purely internal affair" to the University of Freiburg.

Heidegger asked that the faculty consult the philosopher Karl Jaspers for his opinion. Jaspers had fallen out with Heidegger in the 1930s as Heidegger became more evidently enamored of Hitler and Nazism. Jaspers
wrote reluctantly but damningly, arguing

In our present situation the education of the younger generation
needs to be handled with the utmost responsibility and care. Total
academic freedom should be our ultimate goal, but this cannot be
achieved overnight. Heidegger's mode of thinking, which seems to me to
be fundamentally unfree, dictatorial and uncommunicative, would have a
very damaging effect on students at the present time…. He should be
suspended from teaching duties for several years, after which there
should be a review of the situation based on his subsequent published
work and in the light of changing academic circumstances. The question
that must then be asked is whether the restoration of full academic
freedom is a justifiable risk, bearing in mind that views hostile to
the idea of the university, and potentially damaging to it when
propounded with intellectual distinction, may well be promoted in the
lecture room. Whether or not such a situation arises will depend on
the course of political events and the evolution of our civic spirit.

In sum Jaspers recommended Heidegger be pensioned off and permitted to publish, but not to teach. Full academic freedom required a marked recovery of the body politic, a restored civic spirit, and confidence in the resilience of the young.

In the middle of January, 1946—nine months after reconstituting itself—the University Senate largely adopted Jaspers's views, denying Heidegger permission to teach, and saying he would be "expected to maintain a low profile at public functions and gatherings of the University."

In December, 1946, the French military government went a bit further, denying Heidegger his pension, but changed its mind about that in May 1947. So the ban on Heidegger's teaching stayed firm until 1949, when the Faculty of Philosophy persuaded the university Senate to lift it, though not by an overwhelming or unbitter vote, and Heidegger was clear to lecture in 1950-51.

From Ott's account it appears that throughout the nine months it took to come to a resolution in the Heidegger case, university and government authorities influenced each other and that the opinions of academic experts within the academy—particularly Jaspers—carried a great deal of weight outside it. Heidegger's critics within the university wanted him to pay a price as determined by a set of legitimate procedures. And they—especially Jaspers—weighed academic freedom in the balance, carefully enough to believe it merited support for Heidegger's continued publishing career, but not for his teaching
career until society had recovered to the point where it could sustain the onslaught of his dictatorial mode of thought.

1Hugo Ott, Martin Heidegger: A Political Life, trans. Allan Blunden (London: HarperCollins, 1993); I'm drawing also on Mark Lilla, The Reckless Mind: Intellectuals in Politics (New York: New York Review Books, 2003) and Hans Otto Lenel, "The Life and Work of Franz Böhm," European Journal of Law and Economics 3 (1996):301-307. Also, previously on CT.

Steph's additional notes:

• a) Ott's book is critiqued by Richard Rorty, who recommends Safranski: Martin Heidegger: Between Good and Evil.
• b) William Godwin (1756-1836) was the founder of philosophical anarchism. In his An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice (1793) he argued that government is a corrupting force in society, perpetuating dependence and ignorance, but that it will be rendered increasingly unnecessary and powerless by the gradual spread of knowledge....
• c) Comments ensue after the cross-posting to Crooked Timbers. John Yoo comes under vigorous attack.

Imagine the Angels of Bread




Change is always resisted. At the cellular level patterns of survival screech to continue unaltered. It is we, the thinking aggregate of living cells composed into consciousnesses with conscience who must impose a break with violence and the talk that spurs it on.

Not new information -

"Pain as an Art Form"


- but the images are striking and several links to amazing work are provided. I guess I never blogged about Frida Kahlo when I listened to the biography three or four years ago. Her spirit was incredible. (The jokes I make while my sadomaschistic physical therapist works out the knots in my IT bands are pathetic by comparison.)

"The space was really what this sailing thing was all about." (p. 7)




"Everything was so quiet now. The dawn was still so early the turn of the creek in the distance was barely visible...a dawn mystery took hold..." (22)

Last year August was my maiden trip. Just a few days of real sailing but enough of a taste to know I wanted to do it again. A second, shorter outing in October did not dispel my enthusiasm.

"After awhile he heard the putt-putting of a small boat approaching. An early fisherman, probably, heading down the creek. Soon the entire cabin rocked gently and the lamp swung a little from the boat's wake. After a while the sound passed and it became quiet again. . . ." (77)

"Now, above deck, his attention was given to sail shape and wind direction and river current, and to the chart on the deck beside him folded to correspond to landmarks and day beacons and the progression of red and green buoys showing the way to the ocean....Somehow he'd gotten the idea that a sailboat provided isolation and peace and tranquility, in which thoughts could proceed freely and calmly without outside interference. It never happened. A sailboat underway means one hazard after another with little time to think about anything but its needs." (94-95)

"Now that he was quiet he noticed that the boat's motion wasn't so much a rocking as a surge, a very faint, very slow, lift and drop accompanying the waves. He wondered if that could be a surge coming in from the ocean..." (233)

One of the points raised by an audience member during the talk on Pain and Embodiment last Friday was to replace the term essence [of pain] with the neuroscientific phrase describing the mechanism of pain perception in the body. With the following quote, I am not making the point that "essence" and some chain reaction of proprioceptors (or whatever words describe the actual biochemical mechanism) are somehow equivalent to the substitution of 'value' for 'cause,' but I am in agreement that the phrases we use - while they do not change the fact, do enable conversation and may, on that basis, lead to new conceptions.

"To say that 'A causes B' or to say that 'B values preconditions A' is to say the same thing. The difference is one of words only. Instead of saying, 'A magnet causes iron filings to move toward it,' you can say, 'Iron filings value movement toward a magnet.' Scientifically speaking neither statement is more true than the other. It may sound a little awkward, but that's a matter of linguistic custom, not science. The language used to describe the data is changed but the scientific data itself is unchanged. The same is true in every other scientific observation...you can always substitute 'B values precondition A' for 'A causes B' without changing any facts of science at all. . . .

"The only difference between causation and value is that the word 'cause' implies absolute certainty whereas the implied meaning of 'value' is one of preference. In classical science it was supposed that the world always works in terms of absolute certainty and that 'cause' is the more appropriate word to describe it. But in modern quantum physics all that is changed. Particles 'prefer' to do what they do. an individual particle is not absolutely committed to one predictable behavior. What appears to be an absolute cause is just a very consistent pattern of preferences." ( p 119)

...

"The greatest benefit of this substitution of 'value' for 'causation' and 'substance' is that it allows an integration of physical science with other areas of experience that have been traditionally considered outside the scope of scientific thought." (p. 121)

My smart friends are posting wicked cool stuff:

Flaws of Gravity, a review by Christopher Hitchens of a new biography of Isaac Newton.

and

Critical Art on Trial, about a group of tactical media practitioners doing digital disobedience (among other fusions of art, pedagogy, radical political action). Their activist work includes an installation that "encourage[s] citizens to make informed decisions about the biological and chemical substances which have become such a part of everyday life." They've gotten into some trouble for this, leaving them (and us) to wonder "precisely what kinds of communities—real or virtual—we will be able to make" - ever.

In the review cited above, Hitchens quotes Sir Leslie Stephen, who "claimed genius was 'the capacity for taking trouble.'" Taking, you notice, not necessarily (or only) making. Intriguing.

Relating to a lively discussion (currently in a bit of hiatus) via email with some friends, Hitchens also writes this:

the day is not far off when we will be able to contemplate physics as another department—perhaps the most dynamic department—of the humanities. I would never have believed this when I first despairingly tried to lap the water of Cambridge, but that was before Carl Sagan and Lawrence Krauss and Steven Weinberg and Stephen Hawking fused language and science (and humor) and clambered up to stand, as Newton himself once phrased it, “on the shoulders of giants.”

Was it two hours of considering pain during John Symons' lecture on pain and embodiment that heightened the pleasure of good company? I enjoyed the presentation – learned a lot – but was hooked by the immediate (initial) framing, hence my question about why continue a course of inquiry that does not bring one into position to engage with other discourses (if such is what one actually seeks) came across as an attack instead of a quest to understand strategic intent. :-/

I missed the caveat that situated the talk outside of the endeavor to join a dialogue with other disciplines; if I had understood the opening apology to be a signal that the conversation would be internal to philosophy I might have been able to ask in such a way as to learn what I sought. Or maybe I would not have been able to formulate a question at all! :-/

After the talk – well, what a great evening in downtown Boston! I put on my dancing shoes but we never actually arrived to the dance studio for hip hop or popping lessons. (Be warned, “Steph says ‘yes’”!) Instead we drank sake at Shabu Zen (and had one of the most awesome meals I’ve eaten in ages), walked, talked, and sipped tea looking over the Boston Harbor under the nearly full moon with its reflection dancing over calm, rippling waters. Then we walked some more, checked out someone’s totally fancy office (!), and got more sake at Shabu Shabu. Did I mention laughing? :-) My car wasn’t even towed!

Barack Obama said this last night, as others have said before and with increasing urgency as the scientific evidence becomes stronger, more clear and convincing.

But can we change the ways we talk? Can we alter the tropes of political discourse? He is trying, valiantly.

Whether he wins or loses the nomination, the consciousness accompanying his talk - that which has appealed to millions of voters across the U.S. and millions (?) more across the globe is the real prize.

Australians indicate overwhelmingly that the environment is the burning issue of our times. Al Gore has been saying this for some time, among many many others (including nearly everyone I know in the sciences at UMass). The economy matters, but the environment is the lowest common denominator. We've got to wrap our minds around the interrelationship between self/other & self/situation: the determinative frame being between us (people) and our context (the planet). Vectors of history propel us along paths set in motion from ambition, greed, dreams, and visions. Which of these lead to convergence (as in a mathematical series) and which to divergence are not transparent but certain measurements and predictions become increasingly possible.

As an optimist, I do not believe we are on an inevitable path to absolute (unavoidable) convergence, but the attentiveness with which we anticipate consequences to our choices is due for a radical upgrade.

~ Alenka

Well, almost, unless you want to eat at the other bakery… and there was no milk for coffee (or was it no milk for guests?) until a full gallon jug got passed around long after the first cup.

I spent a wonderful couple of days in Boston a few weeks ago with quite the gregarious crowd. The notes for blogging are nearly incomprehensible, now - there's a lesson about timing! Will the acuity in the moment of my sense of reality suffer overmuch? Corruption is welcome. :-) I did have a serious attack of the lonelies after returning from the Colombian's visit to Boston. At least I wasn't chased by a Drunk Mexican (who was actually from Peru), although the fact that someone was chased got me a temporary quasi-date for the evening: "If I kiss you," she said, "it doesn't mean anything." Oh :-/, well "Ok!" :-)

The rain was abominable en route to vaguely ambiguous social events. I so much did not want to drive to the fun, preferring life should come to me! However, 'twas not to be, the promise of fun won, and the drive done soon enough. (I certainly did not accomplish as much as Zeynep, who solved the problem of the universe, reconstructed her dissertation, cleaned the kitchen and packed for the weekend in a few hours prior to departure. Eventually, we took a trip across the street. "I want to visit that galaxy," a 6th grader informed Jake, who informed her that the Earth is, indeed, already in the Milky Way and inquired of her opinion. "I am not sure," she intoned, solemnly looking around.

Different senses of reality pervaded dinner, dancing, bowling, and pool. I really want an actuarial table on the persistence of groups, some way to predict the strength of relationships over time and the possibilities of re-union, recurring configurations, a way to track not only stages of group development but the shape of groups over time... (Javier! Save us!)

The Drunk Mexican returned periodically throughout the evening. Slowly the non-Spanish-speaking members of the group caught on to the fact that he was not operating in an official entertainment capacity for the establishment. Different languages = different senses of reality!

There was a rotation on the couch (prior to the photo frenzy involving several couches) and I texted a pal often through the night. "Are you winking?" I was teased. Alas, no, just offering presence. My favorite dance partner took me for a few turns of salsa conditionally - only if I granted him the criteria of getting "to be the man!" Oh alright, I can follow. :-o

Eventually the evening came to an end:

We returned to the shaking house for curried rice & peas, salmon steaks, bread and cheese. Debate ensued about Boston's unique tectonics, or is it wind through sewage pipes introducing a wobble in the building like Willy Wonka's house? Some folks weren't sure if the house was really shaking, legs over the edge of the bed to stabilize a turbulent tummy via the (moving) floor.

At some point I was encouraged to "wink back." Conversations the next morning (?) ensued about cat channeling, monkeys/national geographic/nature and failure/f-ck-ups. (I have no clue.) Then there's this enigmatic phrase: "There’s some grains in there….."

Finally, wisdom about the/a matrix, I mean, come on, you know it's all made up anyway!

I've been interpreting this semester for eleven weeks. Undergraduate classes meet either two or three times a week, so Friday would have been roughly class session #30 (with some cancellations/holidays factored in). That is some 25 hours of interpreted interaction (50 minutes each session). About two weeks ago the instructor of one course started actually prepping me during the few minutes between my arrival and the start of class. This could be structural, meaning that the first activity in class now requires students to solve a problem based on formulas learned the previous session, giving us this "window" in which to converse. However I think there's also been a different kind of noticing....as if - finally?! - all that moving around as I track writing on the chalkboard across its fifty-foot expanse suggests that I am doing something.

Well, of course it's obvious that I've been doing something, but what, exactly? :-) As the semester progresses the material becomes more challenging and complicated. This has meant I need to be closer to the instructor as she writes on the board, thus (I hypothesize) more visible: in her field of peripheral vision at least, if not actually an object of the direct gaze. Indeed, we have made eye contact more frequently - again, either as a result of me being closer to the teacher's visual space or because I've had to ask more often for clarification or repetition. There was one day last week when I had to say, "I'm sorry, did you say.." or "I'm sorry, did you mean...?" three or four times in the span of a few minutes.

My getting lost so often may have prompted the teacher to be more assertive in preparing me for 'what's to come,' in the day's particular lesson. (She even pre-warned me about a particularly tough section coming up in a few weeks so I have plenty of time prepare!) What happened on Friday, though, really caught my attention. During the check-in, in which I was informed we were only covering two new formulations but they are both rather complicated, I said I might have to interrupt more often because of the complexity. Actually, I explained,

The deaf student looks down to write notes while you continue lecturing. I have to retain the explanation in mind while the student writes, meanwhile you continue with the explanation and there is only so much I can recreate when the student looks up and I try to catch her up from where she looked down all the way to where you are now.

"Interesting," she said quietly, as if for the first time the fact of what I need to coordinate in this tripartite interaction of time, mode, and meaning became apparent.

And I too thought, "interesting" that this is the time frame in which the natural development of trust between us (the teacher and me) has enabled a conversation that might actually enhance the bilingual communication dynamics in the class. I note this because, as usual, on the first day of class I spoke with the teacher about some of the issues that might come up during interpretation, such as asking her to slow down or repeat material. Her reaction - a very common one - was a bit startled (?), even taken aback. I hesitate to ascribe too explicitly what she actually felt in that moment, but it seems to me many, many people (especially teachers) are not exactly thrilled with having to make an accommodation with their teaching style. The rarity of someone who embraces the challenge is striking by contrast to this usually mild mode of resistance.

What excites me about this teacher and this situation now is by comparison with another class, in which the teacher still refuses to acknowledge my existence. The set-up there is a bit different, I am next to the projection screen, some 15-20 feet away from the teacher as she speaks. Occasionally our paths cross when she wanders away from the lectern to expand on a concept that requires no writing, but usually she is writing on her notepad laptop which is projected onto the screen in real time. In other words, it is almost like a teacher writing on a chalkboard, but instead of the horizontal motion across the board, erasing, and returning to write again, the projection screen is vertical, top-down in the manner which the students themselves are taking notes. The result of this different arrangement is that my position is more static. I need to be where the writing is, and this keeps me distant from the teacher.

I would say this doesn't necessarily create an obstacle, however in this instance the environment is actually hostile. When the teacher walks over to highlight something on the screen, she studiously avoids looking at me. I'm not talking shying away from eye contact, I mean acting as if I am not even there. Possibly (I speculate) if she was using the board in the traditional way (left-to-right across the front wall of the classroom), we would necessarily "encounter" each other more and some interaction would have to occur. I suppose she could ignore just as vigorously, but at some point wouldn't that become an obvious problem? This is what I think occurred in the other class; by seeing me struggle - hesitate, pause, scan the board furiously for the referent - the teacher witnessed the labor of what I'm doing (and eventually decided to do something about it).

In the hostile situation, the teacher is (apparently) invested in not "doing something" and - because I am structurally "out-of-the-way", even the chance for dynamic growth into an awareness that doing something might be worthwhile (or helpful, or polite, or whatever you want to call it) to enhance the communication process (i.e., learning opportunity!) for the deaf student is foreclosed. My being situated away from the action, away from the teacher, prevents the development of bilingual norms that are inclusive. (Instead, what is modeled is an exclusive norm which presumes nothing needs to change - an homogeneity of learning is assumed and imposed irregardless of equitability, efficiency, or even some kind of basic cross-cultural consideration.)

A Fear Hierarchy by Jan Pettit.

I'm thick with rationalizations lately - about being an ally, being able to handle the dark, and now, about needing to live inside certain fears for some (undeterminable) amount of time ... can I handle the work I'm drawn to? Will it exceed me, burst my capacity, overwhelm the core skills I've been building ever-so-painstakingly?

This morning, laying in bed reluctant to arise, I mused about the role of pain in entrenched social dynamics. Of course the preferred mode is the comic, to best the miseries by mocking. I wonder, though, if sometimes a less dismissive form of acknowledgment could be the leverage that shifts a pattern from one recurring reiteration to another... but when remains the crucial question, and in that when, how - without getting all tragic?

Weird how certain things come up in bursts, isn't it? In the past month I've encountered three situations involving some combination of Deaf people, American Sign Language, and Koko, the "signing" gorilla.

To be fair, as I consider this, I would probably have to converse with Koko myself to know whether I thought there was actual language happening - you know, the kind of communication that we consider the particularly special feature of language. My understanding is that Koko knows some "signs," responding "appropriately" to some of them and and generating some "signs" herself (is Koko a she?) Please don't misunderstand me, I think it is awesome that there is such strong evidence of high-order cognition from other animals besides ourselves, and I want gorillas to persist on the planet. In fact, I would be stunned and amazed and thrilled, actually, if humans could develop languages or other means of communication that enabled us to learn from the other animals what they know about living on earth. Maybe signed language is one of those modes - just like human babies can learn to project meaning with signs sooner than they can project meaning with spoken words (all those pesky muscles in the tongue and mouth!) - it is not surprising that gesture is a powerful tool across species (as well as between different language groups among our own).

Equating what Koko does with what culturally Deaf people do with their linguistically-complex signed languages (yes, plural!), while cool for the great ape can also serve people inclined to stereotype. Old prejudices persist, with sometimes appalling consequences. I'm not just referring to a deaf person's hurt feelings because a non-deaf person is unable to understand that the mind works just as well with signed languages as it does with spoken ones. I am referring to the casual attitudes one develops towards those considered somehow inferior or otherwise less-worthy. I am referring to a cavalier attitude toward Deaf people's concerns with medical genocide, so easy to pass off if one assumes a Deaf human being is more like a gorilla than like me.

Another irony involves this popularity of non-deaf parents teaching their non-deaf babies to sign. What a fad this is! Parents value those five or six word vocabularies so much! And then drop them (?) as soon as baby starts to speak. I'm not saying parents should not take advantage of the temporary relief signed language provides, but - this is a bit of cultural appropriation, isn't it? Where's the give-back? I have friends who are doing this and I am happy to provide a few 'survival signs,' and - I hope they'll remember, someday, to support legislation recognizing signed languages and residential schools for the Deaf, reject moves to medicalize deafness through research and (what some people consider) experimental surgery on children, to reject eugenics, be willing to pay for signed language interpretation to create accessibility, and even be bold enough to talk with and to Deaf people in meetings or classrooms or anyplace where an interpreter is available for that very purpose (instead of talking to the interpreter as a proxy!)

I know. People don't consider these things, and why should they, really, if it hasn't come up? We've all got plenty to do. Most of us say we've got too much to do, rushing on and on, in a hurry to get things done so we can immediately start the next task. Get those kids signing so we can move on to other things!

All I'm saying is, let your mind be joggled!

1. Home is where you hang your @
2. The E-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail.
3. Speak softly and carry a cellular phone.
4. Too many clicks spoil the browse.
5. The geek shall inherit the earth.
6. What boots up must come down.
7. Virtual reality is its own reward.
8. A user and his leisure time are soon parted.
9. There's no place like http://www.home.com
10. Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach him to use the Net and he won't bother you for weeks.

I asked students in the Group Dynamics course to engage with the title of John Robison's book, look me in the eye, in order to investigate the meanings associated with eye contact and then consciously link that range of meanings to the notion of indirect interaction. The few students who tackled this challenge in full show how communicating across differences is quite a challenging task. Buckets34 discerned no link but trusted one must exist (to which I'd say, "no, not unless we make it!") Freshkicks6 wrote:

In class when we commented on Steph writing sideways, she responded with, “Maybe I’m a sideways type of person.” In our culture it is expected (and we have all learned from a similar frame) that when you write, you try to write straight, horizontal, left to right. The fact that she didn’t do this, stood out and allowed us even to poke fun at her about it. Writing straight, left to right, is a cultural norm, just like looking someone in the eyes is when having a conversation. Often times, because someone does something out of ordinary, we like to comment on it and point it out. The author of “Look Me in the Eyes” talks about this often because people either make fun, or just don’t acknowledge his “sideways” behavior, so he never learns to act “normal.”

Several students comment on how the title provides a frame, which Thumpasorus suggests is a kind of proof that people actually think differently:

"Each person’s thought process brought him or her to a different conclusion about the meaning behind the title. After reading the title I thought “[Robinson] meant it figuratively. That is, he meant to say, examine me closely . . . as I read I found there was a double meaning.” I can now see that other people have thought processes different than mine, which can bring them to conclusions equally as valid. Robinson’s thought process certainly functions differently than many of us. This was expressed especially well in his explanation of his smile at the news of a death of a stranger. As we have been slowly been learning since the beginning of the semester, Steph too has a thought process somewhat foreign to many of ours. This was quite clear when she started “writing sideways” in an attempt to express herself graphically, leaving us with confused, amused expressions"

Arturo, a colleague from Business Strategy & Organizational Theory (School of Management), describes the juxtaposition of John's and my thought processes thus:

I just finished reading your exchange with John Robison. I have to say that it is very interesting at so many levels: from structure and style to goals and understandings. It is like observing a dance where the rhythm is a 2 by 4 where one of you follows the 2-tempo while the other goes for the 4-tempo. Both of you are dancing to the same tune yet an external observer can see the differences in “beat”. On one hand you are articulate and constantly link concepts left-to-right. You use your own voice to bring in your student's ideas and expectations and frame them in the context of his appearance in the class. Yet during all this process you do not forget your own role as mediator/referee of this engagement. On the other hand he goes linear, ignores the social innuendos. He focuses on personal goals yet he makes a noticeable effort to address your issues as they link to his ultimate goal: awareness on the autistic condition. Nevertheless when all this is happening he is still a curious mind. He seeks to grasp where are you coming from in your interpretation of his world / words as you do not conform to any standard that his linear thoughts would have foreseen (he is a linear thinker while you are a sideways traveler). So far it looks like he has partially moved from seeking/perceiving you as a means to his goal (awareness of autism) to exploring/understanding you as a means for understanding himself. He used your “eyes” to see himself from the outside at a group communication level.

Certainly I can identify with these statements: I perceive similarities in the way John and I approach the world as out-of-the-norm (noted by Fresh and Thump), and I am aware of the differences articulated by Arturo: can a strictly linear thinker and a sideways traveler form enough of a bond to co-construct a common goal? A longer exposition of this question is posted in my teaching blog as I urge students to consider deeply: Audience: to imagine or ignore?

Javier posted this photo by Diego Garcia on Facebook. The somber lighting creates a mysterious mood, perfect for a change of season - whether literal (the earth she moves) or figurative (my life she lives).

Of course, the future remains obscure, no promises beyond possibility. But possibility! She is wonderful. :-)

My (super-secret undercover) Doc seems to believe I will pass the extensive medical examination required by the Fulbright Committee.