Tag Archives: Education

Dealing with Failure

When the hits come, they really come hard.

I’m dealing with some significant personal/professional failures this month.

I put in for two federal operating grants this past year: one from NSERC to fund my basic cognitive science work on learning and memory and one from SSHRC to fund some relatively new research on mindfulness meditation. I worked pretty hard on these last fall.

And today I found out that neither were funded.

This means that for the first time in a long number of years, my lab does not have an active federal research grant. The renewal application from NSERC is particularly hard to swallow, since I’ve held multiple NSERC grants and they have a pretty high funding rate relative to other programs. I feel like the rug was pulled out from under me and worry about how to support the graduate students in my lab. I can still carry on doing good research this coming year, and I have some residual funds, but I won’t lie: this is very disappointing.

The cruelest month, the cruelest profession.

It’s often said that academic/scientific work loads heavily on dealing with failure. It’s true. I’ve had failed grants before. Rejected manuscripts. Experiments that I thought were interesting or good that fell apart with additional scrutiny. For every success, there are multiple failures. And that’s all just part of being a successful academic. Beyond that, many academics may work 6-8 years to get a PhD, do a post doc, and find themselves being rejected from one job after another. Other academics struggle with being on the tenure track and may fail to achieve that milestone.

And April really truly is the cruelest month in academics.  Students may have to deal with: rejection from grad school, med school, graduate scholarships, job applications, internships, residency programs. They worry about their final exams. Faculty worry about rejection from grants, looking for jobs, and a whole host of other things. (and at least here in Canada, we still have snow in the forecast…)

Why am I writing this?

Well, why not? I’m not going to hide these failures in shame. Or try to blame someone else. I have to look these failures in the eye, own them, take responsibility for them, and keep working. Part of that means taking the time to work through my emotions and feelings about this. That’s why I’m writing this.

I’m also writing, I guess, to say that it’s worth keeping in mind that we all deal with some kind of stress or anxiety or rejection. Even people who seem to have it together (like me, I probably seem like I have it together: recently promoted to Full Professor, respectable research output, I’ve won several teaching awards, written a textbook, and have been a kind and decent teacher and mentor to 100s of students)…we all get hits. But really, I’m doing fine. I’m still lucky. I’m still privileged. I know that others will be hurting more than I am. I have no intention to wallow in pity or fight with rage. I’m not going to stop working. Not going to stop writing, doing research or trying to improve as a teacher. Moving forward is the only way I can move.

Moving on

We all fail. The question is: What are you going to do about it?

From a personal standpoint, I’m not going to let this get me down. I’ve been in this boat before. I have several projects that are now beginning to bear fruit. I’ve had a terrific insights about some new collaborative work. I have a supportive department and I’m senior enough to weather quite a lot. (thought I’m not Job, so you don’t have to test me Lord!)

From a professional standpoint, though, I think I know what the problems were and I don’t even need to see the grant reviews or committee comments (though I will be looking at them soon). There’s only one of me and branching off into a new direction three years ago to pursue some new ideas took time away from my core program, and I think both suffered a bit as a result. That happens, and I can learn from that experience.

I’ll have to meet with my research team and students next week and give them the bad news. We’re going to need to probably have some difficult conversations about working through this, and I know this will hit some of them hard too.

It might also mean some scholarly pruning. It might mean turning off a few ideas to focus more on the basic cognitive science that’s most important to me.

Congratulations to everyone who got good news this month. Successful grants, acceptance into med school, hired, or published. Success was earned. And for those of us getting bad news: accept it, deal with it, and progress.

Now enjoy the weekend everyone.

 

The Infinity: Email Management and Engagement

It’s a cold and rainy Sunday morning in November. I’m drinking some delicious dark coffee from Balzac’s.

My wife and I are each working on different things and taking advantage of the relative morning quiet. I’m at the kitchen table working off my laptop, listening to music on my headphones, and working on overview material: looking at the emails I have to respond to. I criticize myself for procrastinating, which is in itself an extra layer of procrastinating.

Email is the engine of misery

I take a look at my work email inbox. It is not too bad for a professor. I keep it organized and the inbox contains one those things that need a reply. But there at 59 messages in there that I need to reply to;  four of these have been awaiting a reply since September. Even while I write this, I’m feeling a real sense of anxiety and conflict. On the one hand, I greatly desire to spend hours slogging though the entire list and trying to deal with backlog. I’d love to look at INBOX = 0. I think that would make me feel great (which is a strange belief to have…I have never had INBOX = 0, so how do I know it would make me feel great?) Even an hour could make a good dent and dispense with at least 2/3 of the messages.

But at the same time, I want to ignore all of it. To delete all the email. I think about Donald Knuth’s quote about email. Knuth is a computer scientist at Stanford, who developed, among other things, the “TeX” system of typesetting. He has an entry on his website about email and indicted that he does not have an address.

“Email is a wonderful thing for people whose role in life is to be on top of things. But not for me; my role is to be on the bottom of things. What I do takes long hours of studying and uninterruptible concentration. I try to learn certain areas of computer science exhaustively; then I try to digest that knowledge into a form that is accessible to people who don’t have time for such study.”

This quote, and the idea here, has been one of the things that I really aspire to. It’s one of my favourite quotes and a guiding principle…but I can’t make the leap. Like Knuth, I also write books, articles, and I try to get to the bottom of things. But it seems like I never scratch the surface because I’m always responding to email, sending email, Tweeting and engaging on social media. Deeper analysis never happens because I’m preoccupied with this surface. I feel trapped by this.

And yet, I cannot ignore the surface level. Engagement with email is part of my job. Others depend my responding. For example, I have a now retried departmental colleague who just never responded to email, and this was very frustrating to deal with. I suspect (I know) that others picked up the slack when he failed to be responsive. I have a current colleague who is much the same. So I don’t endorse blowing off some aspects of one’s job, knowing that others will pick these pieces up. I don’t want to shirk my administrative and teaching responsibilities, even if it means I sacrifice the ability to have dedicated research and writing time.

Give and Take

In the end, I am trapped in a cage that I spend hours each day making stronger. Trapped in a pit that I work ever longer hours to make deeper. The incoming email will not stop, but one could probably slow it down by not sending any email out, by providing FAQs on my syllabus about when to email, by delegating email to TAs.

The real question is, if I give less time to email, will it take less of my time away? If so, will I use that time wisely? Or will I turn to another form of distraction. Is email the problem? Or am I the problem?

Grade Inflation at the University Level

I probably give out too many As. I am aware of this, so I may be part of the problem of grade inflation. Grade inflation has been a complaint in universities probably as long as there have been grades and as long as there have been universities.

Harvard students receive mostly As.

But the issue has been in the news recently. For example, a recent story asserted that the most frequent grade (e.i. the modal grade) at Harvard was an A. That seems a bit much. If Harvard is generally regarded as of the world’s best universities, you would think they would be able to asses their students on a better range. A great Harvard undergrad should be a rare thing, and should be much better than the average Harvard undergrad. Evidently, all Harvard undergrads are great.

One long time faculty member, says that “in recent years, he himself has taken to giving students two grades: one that shows up on their transcript and one he believes they actually deserve….“I didn’t want my students to be punished by being the only ones to suffer for getting an accurate grade,”

In this way, students know what their true grade is, but they also get a Harvard grade that will be an A so that they look good and that Harvard looks good. It’s not just Harvard, of course. This website, gradeinflation.com, lays out all details. Grades are going up everywhere…But student performance may not be.

The University is business and As are what we make.

From my perspective as a university professor, I see the pressure from all sides, and I think the primary motivating force is the degree to which universities have heavily embraced a consumer-driven model. An article The Atlantic this week got me thinking about it even more. The article points out, we (university) benefit when more students are doing well and earning scholarships. One way to make sure they can earn scholarships is to keep the grades high. It is to our benefit to have more students earning awards and scholarships.

In other words, students with As bring in money. Students with Cs do not. But this suggests that real performance assessment and knowledge mastery is subservient to cash inflow. I’m probably not the only one who feels that suggestion is true.

And of course, students, realizing they are the consumer, sort of expect a good grade for what they pay for. They get the message we are sending. Grades matter more than knowledge acquisition. Money matters more than knowledge. If they pay their tuition and fees on time, they kind of expect a good grade in return. They will occasional cheat to obtain these grades. In this context, cheating is economically rational, albeit unethical.

Is there a better system?

I am not sure what to do about this. I’m pretty sure that my giving out more Cs is not the answer, unless all universities did this. I wonder if we really even need grades? Perhaps a better system would be a simple pass/fail? Or Fail/Pass/Exceed (three way). This would suggest that students have mastered the objectives in the course and we (the University) can confidently stand behind our degree programs and say that our graduates have acquired the requisite knowledge. Is that not our mission? Does it matter to an employer if a student received an A or a B in French? Can they even use that as a metric when A is the modal grade? The employer needs to know that the student mastered the objectives for a French class and can speak French. Of course, this means that it might be tricky for graduate and professional schools to determine admission. How will medical schools know who admit if they do not have a list of students with As? Though if most students are earning As, it renders moot that point.

In the end, students, faculty, and university administrators are all partially responsible for the problem, and there is no clear solution. And lurking behind it, as is so often the case, is money.