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Off to VCON this weekend, talking about Newton’s Laws in TV and movies

Oct 01 2010

This weekend I’m going to be off hanging out at VCON 35, a science fiction convention in Vancouver. As has been the case with science fiction conventions I’ve gone to in the past, I’ll be giving a talk about something science-related. (Yes, I wasted no time finding a geek convention to talk at after arriving up here in Canada! In fact, truth to tell, it was during the afterglow of Hypericon last year that I searched around to see what might be going on where I was about to move to, found VCON, and volunteered to give a talk.)

The talk I’ll be giving is a slightly modified version of one I gave at Hypericon a couple of years ago: Newton’s Laws in Science Fiction Movies and TV: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. I’m also going to be on a couple of other panels (presumably with other people).

Monday, it’s back to the Energy & Matter course I’m teaching this block— and grading, since there’s an assignment due Monday! (So if you’re a student in the class, get to work! There’s a wiki page to write….)

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Do science students do their reading?

Sep 27 2010

Many science professors hold it as an article of faith that students do far less of the reading in their classes than they do in humanities and social science classes. I heard this expectation expressed at the APS workshop for new faculty I went to several years ago, and in other presentations I’ve heard about physics and astronomy education. The technique Just In Time Teaching was invented partly as a way of allowing science classes to make better use of textbook reading. Is it not a waste to spend classroom time in information transmission, telling students in a linear fashion what they could just have easily read from the textbook? Physics education research has shown that active learning is much more effective in getting the students to really understand the concepts.

When I’ve heard talks about this, the view I’ve heard expressed is that it would be crazy to expect students to come to a literature class without having done the reading. They would be completely unable to participate in that day’s discussion. On the other hand, the view is, the norm is that students don’t do the reading for their physical science classes, except perhaps in a last-ditch attempt to figure out how to do homework problems (“find an example that matches!”).

In my statistics class that met this last September (ending last Friday), all of the students had a project; they chose a question, obtained data, and analyzed it. One student, Julian Seeman-Sterling, surveyed students at Quest to find out how much of the reading they did. Below are a couple of his results:

Histogram about Reading

You can tell just looking at the histograms that there’s no appreciable difference between the amount of reading that students claim to complete in the natural sciences as compared to other disciplines. And, indeed, Julian ran a statistical test on these, and there’s no evidence of any difference. (Note that Julian calls “physical science” what is more commonly called “natural science”— that is, it includes things such as biology.)

I do have to say that I was surprised to hear that, but of course it all comes with caveats. These are the results of a survey of students at Quest. Quest is an unusual place; students only take one class at a time, and it’s very intensive. They don’t have stacks of reading for many different classes to do; they only have the one class. As such, they tend to be very engaged with the one class they are taking. Also, these are the results as reported on the survey. As Julian pointed out during his presentation in class, he couldn’t know if they’re really true without following a lot of students around throughout their day… and that wouldn’t be entirely practical.

So, do students do less of their reading in physics and astronomy than they do in their humanities courses? I don’t know. Julian’s data suggests that that is not the case at least at Quest.

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Teaching on the block

Sep 12 2010

As you will know if you’ve read the sidebar of this blog, I teach at Quest University Canada. I’ve started there this year, and started teaching my first class just under two weeks ago. The class is “The Practice of Statistics”. Because Quest is so small, the faculty here teach a wider range of subjects than they would elsewhere. At Vanderbilt, I taught only astronomy (with undergraduate General Relativity having been defined as an “A” course so that students could count it towards an astronomy minor without our having to revise the catalog description of the minor). At Quest, the first class I’m teaching is a math class.

Quest runs on the “block system”. This is a system for scheduling courses that was pioneered (I believe) at Colorado College; certainly CC is the best known college that’s on the block system. Students take only one class at a time. However, they hyperfocus on the class. Class meets three hours a day, every Monday through Friday, for three and a half weeks. Then there’s a two-day block break (next to a weekend, so it’s sort of a four day weekend), and the next block begins. Full-time students take eight blocks over the course of two semesters, so it amounts to the same number of courses. (You aren’t really able to overload, however.)

Professors teach six blocks during the year. This is also a similar load; at the higher-end private liberal arts colleges, the typical teaching load (I hate that term, but that’s a rant for another time) is either three courses a semester, or two one semester and three the next. (Lots of details about lab courses complicate this.) (This is in contrast to a research University, where scientists might only teach one course a semester.) However, if you think about it, at a typical college those six courses are spread out over eight months. On the block system, those eight courses are condensed into less than six months. Everybody who has taught on this system has told me, and I can now confirm this from my limited experience, that the course you are teaching takes over your life, and you can do basically nothing else while you are teaching.

Each day, I teach from nine to noon. I usually decompress a bit, and then spend the afternoon trying to get some grading done, but in practice I spend a lot of the time talking to students. In the evening, I complete whatever grading there is to do, and then try to figure out what we’re going to do in class the next day. Then I collapse, go to sleep, and start over the next morning.

Because students are there for three hours straight— we do take a break in the middle, but that’s it— you can’t approach the class the same way you would if you saw them for an hour three times a week. Straight lecturing just doesn’t make sense; you can’t just talk at people for three hours straight. Or, rather, you can, but you will probably dull their minds permanently. Of course, astronomy and physics research has shown that straight lecturing basically doesn’t work anyway, so that’s just as well! In statistics, I talk at them a little bit, but try not to talk at them uninterrupted for more than 10 minutes or so in a go. We spend a lot of time working through processing data (using GNU R), there are “labs” that the students do in small groups, and I’ll sometimes give them problems and challenges to work out individually during class.

So far, I like it. Yes, I’m pretty damn busy, but I knew that that was going to happen going in to it. I like the fact that the students are hyperfocusing on my class. There’s no other classes whose tests and homework compete with mine. They aren’t going to neglect my class because another has a big project due. Their attention isn’t divided. I don’t know if this is the best way to do things for all students, but when it comes to how I, personally, have learned things throughout my life, it’s very unnatural for me to try to learn several things at once and spread it out over several months. If I’m learning (say) a new computer language for a project I need, I will dig into it and focus primarily on that for a long time. It means less multitasking. Generally, when people talk about multitasking, they’re talking about switching tasks several times a minute or an hour, but switching tasks a few times a day is also a form of multitasking, and it can also be distracting.

This year, after the statistics class, I’ll be teaching a class that’s part of the foundation courses entitled “Energy & Matter”. After that is an astronomy course, and then two courses in a sequence of calculus-based physics. That will have been five blocks in a row, each with a different course, so I expect when it’s over and February rolls around, I’m going to be completely used up. I plan to get nothing done in February; I am just going to recover. In March, I teach “Energy & Matter” again, and then the year is over for me. One of the advantages of having your teaching condensed into six months is that in the other months, you may actually be able to focus on other things and get a real amount of research or development done. I’ll see how that goes this coming April! (And maybe in February, but I really do expect I’m going to need to decompress.)

I will have a lot more to say about what it’s like to teach at Quest as time goes on.

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The other horrors of 9/11

Sep 11 2010

(This is a repost from the post I made one year ago toady.)

Many people will consider this post to be in extremely poor taste.

But there are things that I think that we really need to keep in mind as we’re remembering the lessons that we learned, the tragedies and the horrors of 9/11. (And, this won’t be the first time I made a post that many considered in poor taste….)

To frame the whole thing, let’s start with what I call George W. Bush’s most egregious untruth— not a lie, for I don’t doubt that he meant it when he addressed the nation on the evening of 9/11, but what in retrospect turned out not to be true:

None of us will ever forget this day, yet we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world.

What was the legacy of this moving forward to defend freedom, justice, and goodness?

  • The passage of the PATRIOT Act, rushed through in less than two months, voted on so fast in a political climate where legislators would be viewed in a light similar to how this blog post will be viewed if they voted against it. It was a massive piece of legislation that incorporated all sorts of expansion of powers for law enforcement and limitations in the checks and balances. Many of the things in there would have been the subject of vigorous debate and public scrutiny if they had been proposed individually. Yet, in the climate of “We MUST do something” after 9/11, it was rammed through, and public opinion would have had it no other way.

    And, yet, despite how controversial the authoritarian tenets of this act should have been in the “land of the free”, one senator and only 15% of the House of Representatives voted against it. Many (all?) of those who voted for it hadn’t read the act, and I wouldn’t be surprised of most of them didn’t really know what was in the act they were voting for.

    This kind of “must do something” response is the legacy of 9/11 that I hope we learn the most from. We open ourselves to manipulation from people who would love to pass all kinds of authoritarian laws when we respond in haste and in fear to a horrific event such as the 9/11 terrorist attacks.

  • The Iraq war. Bush & co. were going to go into Iraq anyway. 9/11 made it easy for them. They could frame the whole war in terms of terrorism and defending America. A large proportion of American citizens were led into believing that Saddam Hussein was connected to the 9/11 terrorist attacks, even though there is absolutely no evidence for that. (The USA Today article I link to cites 70%; other numbers I’ve seen are closer to 1/3 or 40%. In any event, a significant fraction of Americans believed the lie.). 3,000 people died on 9/11. In Iraq, 4,200 Americans and something like 100,000 Iraqis have died as a result of the war. (And we won’t even talk about the cost of this war, rushed into, in comparison to, say, any potential cost of a much-reviled universal health care plan.)

    Was Saddam Hussein evil, and did his regime need to go away? Yes. Did the US make a complete mess out of the war, as a result of disastrous misplanning and lack of understanding about rebuilding after Saddam was ousted? Absolutely. I will say that over the last year or so, I’ve actually been almost optimistic that Iraq may be able to get back on its feet; I had not been for years before that. And, heck, the war in Afghanistan is looking scary now… I can’t help but wonder if much of that results from our redirection of focus from that war (which had broad international support) to Iraq long before the Afghanistan war was anywhere near complete.

  • Many US citizens and many US politicians have started to speak out in favor of torture. Why? Fear. Because 9/11 has convinced us that we have to do whatever it takes to fight back against those who would do those sorts of things. Never mind that torture doesn’t work and generates bad intelligence. Never mind that it sullies the image of America internationally, gives those who hate America a great reason to hate America, and will only make things harder on Americans who get captured by terrorists. Never mind that it makes us evil that we do it. We want us our revenge. We suffered from the horrors of 9/11, so we want to make sure somebody else suffers in kind. We have seen it be effective week after week in the TV show 24, so we think we’re being courageous and doing the hard thing to support it. It makes me sick. I have some hope that perhaps we’re going to hold those at the top accountable for the decisions they’ve made, but for the most part, we’re probably going to throw some lower-level scape goats to the dogs as a way of pretending “accountability” while we still debate whether or not we should continue this barbarous and ineffective tactic.
  • The end of due process. OK, that’s overstating it; due process still exists. And, as the link at the bottom of this paragraph shows, finally, years later, we’re reevaluating what we did and realizing that it was wrong. But there remain lots of ways for the government to work around it when they want to. Hoards of people picked up for the slightest suspicion have wasted away years of their lives in Guantanamo Bay as they are held without trial, without hearing. Yeah, they may not be American citizens, and thus not subject to protection from our authorities by our Constitution, but what of our ideals? What happened to defending freedom and justice? And, indeed, being an American citizen doesn’t stop you from being held without due process if the right part of the executive branch declares that you’re a material witness, without any proof whatsoever.

There are other things. The general paranoia we have about photography of public places, and how cops and security guards come down with unreasonable suspicion against those who are just taking pictures. The UK’s institution of universal surveillance and a lack of law enforcement oversight. The fact that anybody is still paying any attention to Dick Cheney as he tells us we should be torturing away as his administration always did. Folks’ laptops being seized, searched, and (effectively) confiscated at national borders without reasonable suspicion, in blatant violation of the spirit of the fourth amendment to the Constitution. The complete squandering of the sympathy and goodwill that the US had in the international community after 9/11 as a result of our aggressive and self-righteous posturing.

I believe it’s just a matter of time before some nutcase— be it a terrorist of the 9/11 variety, or a homegrown white guy of the Oklahoma City bombing variety— is able to get his hand on a “weapon of mass destruction” and blow it off in some highly populated area. And, I’m talking something nuclear here (be it a “dirty bomb” or a small nuke or some such), not just an airplane full of jet fuel— because the N-word makes everything so much scarier. And, I have to admit, I despair in the authoritarian rules that will be passed by widespread popular demand, quickly, in response to that.

We should never forget the horrors of 9/11. But we should also never forget the terrible mistakes we made in response to 9/11.

Added 2010/09/11
: In the last year, I’ve noticed a lot more open anti-Islamic hate.  It’s been pretty obvious in the USA for the last 9 years, but for whatever reason it’s becoming more open, and more virulent.  I watch the Tea Party and their worship of know-nothingness, the willingness of Fox News to wildly distort the truth, and the growing of loud movements that want to treat Muslims the way that, and Godwin forgive me, Jews were treated in Germany during the years before Hitler came into power.  We are not so culturally different from Western Europe; if it can happen there, it can happen here.  I’m becoming sadder and sadder about how the USA, the supposed land of the free and home of the brave, is reacting as a whole to having been attacked by evil and reprehensible terrorists nine years ago.  I don’t think we learned the right lessons; we think we need to get our own back and strike out, when in reality we need to be evaluating the world we live in and ask why it gives rise to the evils that it does.  We need to change the world so those evils can’t fester, instead of trying to create our own personal mirror image of them.

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“Whence Supernovae?” : Online public astronomy talk Saturday Sep. 11

Sep 10 2010

The summer is over, and that means that MICA is resuming its activities. MICA is currently undergoing internal evaluation and evolution, but one thing that we’re going to keep doing is our regular public astronomy outreach talks. This Saturday, I’ll be talking about where supernovae come from:

There are two types of supernovae: thermonuclear and core-collapse supernovae. Both signal the deaths of stars as best we understand them. Thermonuclear supernovae in particular have been important as tools to tell us about the Universe. It was observations of such events out to great distances that told us the expansion of the Universe is accelerating. Yet, supernova science has a dirty secret: our model for how these events occur hasn’t been observationally confirmed. In the last year, X-ray observations have called into question what many of us believed to be the primary mechanism for the production of such stellar explosions. In this talk, I’ll give an overview of what we do know about these thermonuclear supernovae, and what the current state of knowledge is in figuring out just where they came from.

The talk is at 10AM pacific time in Second Life. Remember that Second Life accounts are free! Follow the link to sign up. Once you’re in Second Life, follow this link to find the MICA Public Amphitheater, which is where the talk will be.

For more information, look at the MICA Events web page, and follow the links to see slides from previous talks, and announcements of upcoming talks.

(As for why I’ve been so quiet in the last couple of weeks: soon I will make a post about what it’s like to teach on the block plan!)

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Some true statements about Palin, Limbaugh

Aug 27 2010

This editorial by Timothy Egan has inspired me to make the following true statements. We’ll see if Fox News picks them up and repeats them with the sense of sky-falling urgency that they repeat other things.

  • I have not seen definitive evidence that Sarah Palin’s husband wasn’t a member of the KKK, dropping out only when she was invited to join John McCain’s presidential ticket.
  • Rush Limbaugh has not given us proof that he wasn’t secretly a member of the American Communist Party in his youth.

I mean, it’s only American and responsible to ask the questions, right?

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Essential Science Fiction Movies

Aug 25 2010

io9 is doing a series on Science Fiction for Beginners. It includes a post today by Charlie Jane Anders, 25 classic science fiction movies that everybody must watch.. It’s a good list.

I am embarrassed to admit that there are a couple of movies on the list I haven’t seen. (No, I haven’t seen Metropolis yet, and I realize that makes me culturally illiterate. Nor have I seen Planet of the Apes, Road Warrior, or Ghost in the Shell.) I’ll have to make a point to see them.

I do agree with Anders about Brazil— when forced to list a favorite movie of all time, usually that’s the one that I list. I’m also happy that both a Star Trek and a Star Wars movie made the list, because those movies (the second in each series) were good movies; sometimes people are too self-consciously highbrow to include something from a mass-market franchise.

I do have to quibble with what Anders says about Back to the Future. A very fun movie, mind you, but I wouldn’t say that it’s theory of time travel really makes all that much sense. I suppose it does apply the theory consistently, but it was definitely a “fantasy” theory of time travel. A science fiction movie that I think is great and that I’d include (along with Primer) as one of the two “essential” time travel movies is 12 Monkeys. (Which, I believe, was produced by Terry Gillam, who also did Brazil.)

Other movies that I would have considered for the top of the list include Gattaca (probably the most sensible treatment of the social spectre of genetically engineering our kids), The Truman Show, and maybe, just maybe, Buckaroo Bonzai, as the definitive and most rewatchable treatment ever of camp.

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Radioactive decay rates… decreasing… because of… the Sun????

Aug 23 2010

When I see something like this on Slashdot, I figure it’s the usual crap science that somebody picked up. Only the press release it links to is from Stanford, which is normally what we think of as a respectable institution.

The basic idea is that tiny decreases in the radioactive decay rates of some isotopes have been observed. Presumably, these were statistically significant decreases, although I don’t have details. One case of this seemed to correlate in time with a solar flare, and other cases seem to vary annually in ways that suggest that maybe, somehow, Solar neutrinos are interacting with these isotopes and influencing the decay rates.

I’m not going to believe this until I see strong evidence for it and until multiple groups have confirmed it. It would be cool if it were true, for it would tell us that neutrinos are interacting with other matter in ways that we didn’t expect. But, for now, all I’ve been able to find are two papers (here and here). One is from a conference proceedings (and I’ve only seen the abstract); the other is a sort of response that has only been uploaded to the preprint server. In other words, as best I can tell, neither of these papers has yet been through any kind of peer review.

The latter paper— by Parkhomov, on the preprint server— has the full text available, although I have to admit I haven’t read it. The abstract suggests, however, that he does not observe the effect mentioned in the conference proceedings.

So, we’ve got two papers: a conference proceedings, and a paper only uploaded to a preprint server, the latter contradicting the former. As such, I’m not going to get all excited about this until the paper trail gets a little bit more solid.

My prediction: this is going to go away and not turn out to be a real effect. But, I guess we should keep our eyes open in case it does turn out to be real. It would surprise the heck out of me if it were real, though.

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The Difference Between Religion and Woo

Aug 21 2010

In one of my first couple of years as a physics professor at Vanderbilt, fellow astronomer David Weintraub introduced me to another faculty member we ran into at lunch. He was from one of the humanities departments— I forget which. When David introduced me as somebody who worked on measuring the expansion rate of the Universe, this other fellow’s immediate response was that the only reason we astronomers believed in the Big Bang theory was because of our Judeo-Christian cultural bias that there was a moment of beginning.

I was quite taken aback. I tried to talk about the Cosmic Microwave Background, light element ratios, and so forth, but he waved them all off. I mentioned that his assertion wasn’t even historically correct: earlier in the 20th century, the steady-state model (the Universe has always been as it is now) was if anything the dominant cosmological model. His response to hearing the postcard description of the Steady State Universe: “I like that one better.” Scientific evidence be damned….

It was really quite an eye opener. I had run into a living stereotype of the post-modernist deconstructionist, who believes that absolutely everything is a social construction. He had quickly judged the intellectual output of a field of study he was ignorant about based on his own bias and methodology. While I suspect that scientists have overreacted to post-modern deconstructionism, this fellow showed me that at least some of what we overreact to is real. There are those who have convinced themselves that absolutely everything is a social construction. Thus, the only people who are studying what really matters is those who deconstruct said social constructions; everybody else is ultimately fooling themselves and playing around with their “science” and so forth while ultimately being trapped by their cultural blinders. Of course, this is a load of hogwash, and I am led to understand it’s not even really what most post-modern deconstructionist types really believe.

Why do I mention this? Because I see a lot of those who call themselves skeptics making exactly the same mistake— judging another field of intellectual inquiry on what they believe to be the one true way of reason. They dismiss things as trivial or childish based on criteria that fail to be relevant to the field of human intellectual activity they’re trivializing. Specifically, there are a lot of people out there who will imply, or state, that the only form of knowledge that really can be called knowledge is scientific knowledge; that if it is not knowledge gained through the scientific method, it’s ultimately all crap.

When I was in first or second grade, I wrote a story about a boy named Tom Tosels who found a living dinosaur. It was very exciting. It was also, well, a story written by a 7-year old, and not one who was particularly literarily talented. Now, from a purely scientific basis, it’s difficult to distinguish this story from the poetry of Robert Frost. It’s words, written on a page, out of the imagination of a person (a person named Robert, even), telling a fictional story. What makes Robert Frost so much more important to human culture than the stories I wrote when I was 7? It’s not a scientific question, but it is a question that is trivially obvious to those who study literature, culture, and history. And, yet, using my 7-year-old story to dismiss all of literature as crap makes as much sense as using the notion of believing in a teapot between Earth and Mars as a means of dismissing all of religion.

If you cannot see the difference between Russell’s teapot and the great world religions, then you’re no more qualified to talk about religion than the fellow who thinks that cultural bias is the only reason any of us believe in the Big Bang is qualified to talk about cosmology.

Phil Plait has written three blog posts on his famous “Don’t Be a Dick” speech to TAM, a meeting of skeptics. (The posts are here, including a video of the talk, and here, including links to bloggy reactions to the talk, and here, including personal reactions to the talk.) Some of the comments on the posts— including, ironically, many of those who accuse Phil of being too vague and denying the effect he discusses really exists— are excellent illustrations of what he’s talking about. Some of these comments (and even some comments that are supportive of his general message) illustrate the philosophical blinders that you find on many in the skeptic movement. In the third post, there is a picture of Phil hugging Pamela Gay, a prominent pro-science speaker, a leading light of the skeptic movement… and a Christian. There are a number of responses that express the sentiment of commenter Mattias:

When will we see Phil hugging a medium — calling for us to include them in our mutual skepticism about moon-hoaxers, homeopathy or, lets say, dogmatic religion?

There are quite a number of skeptics who openly say that they cannot see the difference between religion and belief in UFOs, Homeopathy, or any of the rest of the laundry list of woo that exists in modern culture. Even those who agree that ridiculing people for their beliefs is not only counter-productive, but just bad behavior, often don’t seem to think there’s any difference between the brand of religion practiced by Pamela Gay (or by myself, for that matter) and Creationism, or even things like UFOs, mystical powers of crystals, psychic powers, and so forth. The assertion is that being religious is a sign of a deep intellectual flaw, that these people are not thinking rationally, not applying reason.

It’s fine to believe this, just as it’s fine to believe that the Big Bang theory is a self-delusional social construction of a Judeo-Christian culture. But it’s also wrong. Take as a hint the fact that major universities have religious studies and even sometimes theology departments (or associated theology schools, as is the case with Vanderbilt). Now, obviously, just because somebody at a university studies something, it doesn’t mean that that thing is intellectually rigorous. After all Cold Fusion was briefly studied at universities, and ultimately it was shown that there was basically nothing to it. But it should at the very least give you pause. The fact that these studies have continued for centuries should suggest to you that indeed there must be something there worth studying.

Creationism is wrong. We know that. But the vast majority of intellectual theologians out there would tell you that creationism is based on a facile reading of Genesis, a reading that theology has left as far behind as physics has left behind the world-view of Aristotle.

Astrology is bunk, because it makes predictions about the world that have been shown to be false. Likewise, Creationism is bunk, because it makes statements about the history of the world and the Universe that have been shown to be false. But religion in general, or a specific instance of one of the great world religions in particular, are not the same thing. It is true that lots of people use religion as a basis for antiscience. But there are also lots of people like Pamela and myself who are religious, and yet fully accept everything modern science has taught us. There are people— theists— who study those religions whose studies are based on reason and intellectual rigor that does not begin with the scientific method. Yes, there is absolutely no scientific reason to believe in a God or in anything spiritual beyond the real world that we can see and measure with science. But that does not mean that those who do believe in some of those things can’t be every bit as much a skeptic who wants people to understand solid scientific reasoning as a card-carrying atheist. Pamela Gay is a grand example of this.

Don’t be like the post-modernist so blinded by how compelling his own mode of thought is, that you come to believe that the only people who are intellectualy rigorous and not fooling themselves are those who use exactly that and only that mode of thought.

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What to do about overproduction of PhDs?

Aug 19 2010

There is an interesting and anguishing post on Inside Higher Ed by psychology professor Monica J. Harris entitled Stop Admitting Ph.D. Students. (Hat tip: Chad.) She describes a problem familiar to anybody who’s paid attention to the PhD market in probably just about any academic field in the last couple of decades. Departments continue to admit and produce PhD students, and college administrations (and rankings by professional societies) judge departments partly on their ability to produce large numbers of PhD students. Yet, there are very long-term jobs out there for people with PhDs. Knowing that society and her department isn’t going to change to address the problem, she’s tried to do what she thinks is the only ethical thing she can: she’s no longer accepting new graduate students into her lab, so that at least she personally won’t be contributing to the oversupply problem.

The comments are also very interesting. The range from agreement and sympathy to outright claims that she is lazy and “not doing her job.” I think the best comment was made by “scandal and a byword”:

Many of us PhD students DO know what we’re getting into. The problem is that (at least in my experience) we’re strongly discouraged from making contingency plans. I get a fairly explicit mixed message from my teachers:
1) There aren’t many good (tenure-track research) jobs out there.
2) If I don’t get a tenure-track research job, I’m a failure, and my name will ever be a scandal and a byword and a source of discomfort to my teachers. If I have any plan B, I’d better not mention it!

My own field is physics, and the problem of physicists being trained for and expected to get tenure-track faculty positions, without enough of these positions being out there, has been a sore topic for two decades (at least). My last year or two of college (1989-1990), I remember reading a national report about how there was going to be a “shortage of scientists”. This was based on a rather naive consideration that the boom of scientists who went into the field after Sputnik were all about to retire. In reality, the tech push after Sputnik created a system whereby a tenure-track or tenured physics professor at a research institution produces during his career something like 10-15 PhD students. In other words, while he will retire only once, he replaces himself 10 to 15 times. At first, this worked, because there was demand for that level of expansion. But not for long. Even considering that some will go to smaller, undergraduate-only colleges, this level of over-replacement is not sustainable.

By 1991 or 1992, far from the “shortage of scientists” talks, there were regular columns and letters to the editor in Physics Today talking about how physics graduate students could usually get post-doctoral positions, but it was very tough for those post-docs to move on to a faculty position. At one point, one of Caltech’s colloquium periods (perhaps it was Astronomy journal club– I don’t remember exactly) was given over to a discussion of this topic. One of the things parroted there, as in many of these articles, was that we need to be training our PhD students also for jobs outside of academia. Professors said this… but I almost hear each professor present thinking, “but my students will be the ones to get those coveted faculty positions.” (Or perhaps it was “but Caltech students will…”.)

At least in physics, and at an institution like Caltech, there is a very strong cultural sense that “success” means “ending up in a tenure-track faculty institution at a research University”. When, in grad school, I would despair with my friends about our chances, I would sometimes mention that I was as or more interested in teaching than primarily in research, they would say, oh, well, you can get a job at a small liberal arts college! Of course, those jobs are just as competitive as the research jobs. Yes, sometimes people “settle” for those jobs, but the truth is that there are a bunch of us who really value teaching as a primary professional, intellectual, and creative activity.

I also remember hearing students talking about PhDs who had gone on to teach high school, and how depressing that was that they’d have to settle for so little. At the time, I was seriously considering that as a long-term possibility, but I didn’t say anything. And this comes back to the comment of “scandal and a byword” above: the culture of PhD granting institutions in many fields remains extremely destructive to the notion of PhDs being self-respecting individuals if they don’t get one of the very few coveted faculty jobs.

Many of the comments on thread note that cutting off the opportunity for people to get PhDs cuts off the opportunity for the people who value the PhD work itself. This is a valid point. What I tell people is that if they’re going to go to graduate school in physics or astronomy, they should do so because they want to go to graduate school. There is absolutely no guarantee that the PhD will allow them to spend the rest of their lives in physics research. With their skills, the PhD is a more stressful and lower-paying occupation (*) than other things they could be doing. If the coveted faculty job were likely, it might be worth the “sacrifice” of going through a PhD program, but because that faculty job is not likely, the PhD has to be worth it all by itself.

(*) (Aside: in physics, it’s a lot better than it is in the humanities. You generally teach for a couple of years, and most of the time your advisor has grant money to pay you a research assistantship to complete your PhD research. In the humanities, you may have a fellowship for a few years, but it’s more common to have to teach for many years, or to have to do research assistantships that are not your own thesis research. Yes, you’re being paid a pittance in physics, but at least you’re being paid.)

You also need to be aware that you’re going to receive direct and indirect pressure to consider “success” as going on in research. Even the pep talks about how great a given graduating class is will come across as pressure: “I’m sure you’ll go on to do great things to advance the field!” It’s supposed to be a compliment, but it bolsters the culture that success is going on in research. You have to be aware of this, and have to be aware that you’re still a good person, still a good PhD, and still contributing to society even if you don’t manage to go on, or if, horrors, you choose not to go on in research.

The whole culture of the system is broken, and I don’t see it changing any time soon. We’ve been collectively wringing our hands about it for at least a couple of decades, but the evaluation criteria for ranking departments remains “more PhDs” rather than “a responsible number of PhDs”, and administrations at Universities continue to pressure departments to produce lots of PhDs to make their numbers look good. How we each respond to this ethically is difficult; I admire Monica Harris’ response, and am dismayed by those who think she’s finding an excuse to be lazy. Myself, I think the most important thing is to make sure that undergrads going on to PhD programs are not fed a line about a “shortage of scientists”, and are fully aware of what they’re getting themselves into.

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