Merely Delivering Information?

Jul 08 2011 Published by under Learning

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The summer issue of Harvard Business Review includes an interesting piece synthesizing several books about higher education. Justin Fox argues that academia is overdue for change in Disrupting Higher Ed. He opens with the following:

Last summer my family moved from Manhattan to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Thanks to a lucky break in the rental market, we ended up with part of a house in a lovely, leafy neighborhood near the Harvard campus. Many of our neighbors are Harvard professors. They’re lovely (not leafy) folks. Smart, friendly, funny. Did I mention smart?

They’re also among the most privileged people I’ve ever met. Privileged not because they inherited large sums of money or lounge around eating bonbons. Privileged because they work in rewarding, stimulating jobs—with lots of opportunity for variety and personal initiative—and seemingly don’t ever have to worry about losing them.

A few paragraphs later, after discussing the last decade's disruption in the media, the fallacy sets in:

Higher education, like the media, is in the business of delivering information.

Uh, no. Even in BA/BS level courses, the idea is not to merely read and remember stuff; most faculty want undergrads to integrate the facts into understanding. The information delivered should be used, ultimately, to generate new knowledge: new interpretations of history, new pieces of art, new search engines, and new science break-throughs. The purpose of higher education is knowledge, including its communication, generation, and preservation. As students mover higher up the system, through the masters and doctoral levels, the emphasis on communication of knowledge lessens. Especially for the PhD student, the emphasis becomes research, taking what is known and integrating it in new ways, perhaps with new facts.

Higher education is like making the information, then delivering and editorializing on it, ultimately hoping that someone will make more new information with it all.

As a medical school faculty member, I have to communicate certain facts to the students; if they do not learn how to calculate the anion gap, they cannot use it at the bedside. However, what they really need to know is what the anion gap means,what it tells them about the patient's pathophysiology. I want them to understand the systems of the body, to appreciate the interactions of all of these systems, and to juggle this level of complexity when they see the patient. These latter skills do not happen in the lecture hall; they occur at the bedside. While some of this complex consideration of everything can be simulated (in really expensive, high-tech teaching halls), nothing compares to actually using new information in the care of a patient.

Students learn by grappling with knowledge, fighting with the facts and figures for mastery. Some students learn visually, others by reading, and others by hearing. Often, providing ways to manipulate and understand new knowledge in multiple ways can help students grasp stuff faster. The online world makes this easier, by letting those of us who do teach post videos, songs, and other non-traditional materials that students can use. However, I do not see anyway a student could get a meaningful degree just by learning facts online.

I have participated in some online learning myself through webinars with interactive discussions, both in real-time and via asynchronous message boards. For short courses it works pretty well, and interactivity can be generated. I was forced to use the facts I read between sessions and to support my actions with my teacher and my peers. Learning can be done via new technologies. I don't know that I would have wanted to do an entire degree program via that format; it took far more effort on everyone's part than gathering a bunch of students in a classroom. As an extrovert, I also gain energy with people. I like the social aspects of education, even the camaraderie of a class learning with a bad teacher!

I agree that we in academia are privileged. I make less than my counterparts in private practice, but I have a stimulating, rewarding job. I can justify a lot of wide-ranging interests as part of my profession, including readings on adult learning, social media, and even creative non-fiction writing. I would not give up that aspect of my career! Of course, my job security comes not from that part of my job, but from my clinical skills. In the current era of funding cuts, having MD behind my name provides far more salary guarantee than tenure, even in the Ivory Tower!

Fox presents recent books demonstrating the "disruption" that is occurring outside the Ivy League. One book, The Innovative University: Changing the DNA of Higher Education from the Inside Out, he describes as an "entertaining, informative history of higher education as seen through the joint lens of Harvard and BYU-Idaho." It sounds like a great read, but it won't be available until July 26 (and not yet in an eReader format for pre-order; hello, disruptive technology?).

How do you see higher education in this online media age? Disrupted or supplemented? Do you think we professors and instructors are merely in the business of delivering information?

 

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What I Am Reading: Flavia de Luce

Apr 29 2011 Published by under What I'm Reading

The year is 1950, and you are a 10 year-old girl who lives in the great house of the village. Your favorite spot is a Victorian chemistry lab, assembled by an eccentric ancestor, and you are the only person who enters there. You do things like distill poison ivy to irritate (literally) your vain oldest sister. You have a passion for logic, science, and poison. You keep finding dead people.

Your name is Flavia de Luce.

Flavia stars in three novels by Alan Bradley, a former electrical engineer who worked in television. The whole family has its oddities. The mother and heiress of Buckshaw, the family estate, died climbing in the Himalayas during Flavia's infancy. She left no will, leaving the family in uncertain financial status. The father's only remaining passion, stamps, occupies him. The two oldest girls are more conventional. The elder de Luce, Ophelia (aka Feely), plays piano and enjoys watching her reflection. Daphne (or Daffy), in the middle loves to read and plans to write novels.

Flavia's character can seem very modern. She has claimed her mother's bicycle and named it Gladys. She and the bike cruise the countryside, having adventures and solving mysteries, like the dead folks that keep turning up when Flavia hangs about. Flavia can also be wise beyond her years.

The latest novel, A Red Herring Without Mustard, came out in April. Here she talks about her chemistry lab, hidden in a wing of the Buckshaw that only she enters:

Stepping through the door into my laboratory was like gaining sanctuary in a quiet church: The rows of bottled chemicals were my stained-glass windows, the chemical bench my altar. Chemistry has more gods than Mount Olympus, and here in my solitude I could pray in peace to the greatest of them: Joseph Louis Gay-Lussac (who, when he found a young assistant in a linen draper's shop surreptitiously reading a chemistry text which she kept hidden under the counter, promptly dumped his fiancee and married the girl); William Perkin (who had found a way of making purple dye for the robes of emperors without using the spit of mollusks); and Carl Wilhelm Scheele, who probably discovered oxygen, and - more thrilling even than that - hydrogen cyanide, my personal pick as the last word in poisons.

Solving the murder in this case involves a peculiar fishy odor, which brings out the chemist in Flavia:

Propylamine (which had been discovered by the great French chemist Jean-Baptiste Dumas) is the third of the series of alcohol radicals - which might sound like boring stuff indeed, until your consider this: When you take one of the alcohols and heat it with ammonia, a remarkable transformation takes place. It's like a game of atomic musical chairs in which the hydrogen that helps form the ammonia has one or more of its chairs (atoms, actually) taken by the radicals of the alcohol. Depending upon when and where the music stops, a number of new products, called amines, may be formed.

With a bit of patience and a Bunsen burner, some truly foul odors can be generated in the laboratory. In 1889, for instance, the entire city of Freiburg, in Germany, had to be evacuated when chemists let a bit of thioacetone escape. It was said that people even miles away were sickened by the odor, and that horses fainted in the streets.

How I wish I had been there to see it!

Obviously, I love this precocious girl. She can be sweet, especially when she ponders her missing mother. She has a mean streak, though, and will use all of her skills to get revenge, especially on her conniving sisters.

I will end with one last passage from the latest book:

Thinking and prayer are much the same thing anyway, when you stop to think about it - if that makes any sense. Prayer goes up and thought comes down - or so it seems. As far as I can tell, that's the only difference.

I thought about this as I walked across the fields to Buckshaw. Thinking about Brookie Harewood - and who killed him, and why - was really just another way of praying for his soul, wasn't it?

If this was true, I had just established a direct link between Christian charity and criminal investigation. I could hardly wait to tell the vicar!

Guess we should add theologian to Flavia's accomplishments.

Book four's publication is set for November 1.

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What I Am Reading: Chimera Version

Mar 15 2011 Published by under [Medicine&Pharma], [Science in Society]

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One of the joys of my blogging life is getting to read books before they are officially published. This year, the Science Online swag bag included Blood Work: A Tale of Medicine and Murder in the Scientific Revolution, a book that kept me occupied for a few days. Science? Check. Medicine? Check. Murder mystery? Check.

Holly Tucker, a faculty member of Vanderbilt University,  weaves a number of historical and political intrigues into a story of medical experimentation that results in murder.

The saga proceeds in the 1600s. French and British physicians and scientists race to learn new facts about anatomy and physiology. Great rewards awaited the first to publish (gee, does that sound familiar?), and governments (royalty) began to fund academies to help assure the place of their investigators in the race for knowledge. Within France, where the murder in question occurs, political clashes between a private academy begun by Henri-Louis de Montmor and that funded through the crown, as well as the Parisian medical establishment versus other schools within the country, complicate the interpretation and dissemination of experimental data (once again, sound familiar?).

The primary character, Jean-Baptiste Denis, longs to make his mark in Parisian society, despite being an upstart of lesser birth trained outside of the Parisian school. He becomes convinced that transfusion will provide transport for his social goals, and begins experiments with dog-to-dog blood transfers. These procedures are described in excruciating detail -  after all, there was no anesthesia, so dogs were muzzled and tied to tables for the procedure. Anticoagulation was unknown, so blood had to be transferred directly from one dog to the other without storage, and the transfer took place through small metal stems and quills. The donor dog underwent cut-down to access an artery, and that dog's blood pressure drove the blood into the recipient's vein, also accessed via a cut-down. Going from a large dog to a small one seemed to work better, and the small dog often seemed "livelier" after the procedure. The donor dog? Not so much.

He then wanted to proceed to animal-to-human transfusion. This proposition scared folks, not because of the issue of transfusion reactions not yet described; no, people were terrified that they could become physical chimeras. Receive the blood of a calf, and you might wake up with the face of a cow. The artwork in the book shows these amazing chimera images!

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Denis eventually found "volunteers" for his experiments, the first a desperately ill 16-year-old boy who the barber-surgeons had bled more than 20 times. For his donor, he chose a sheep. What could be more helpful than the blood of the lamb, the symbol of Jesus' sacrifice? The boy felt better the next day, apparently cured of his two month fevers. Denis then persuaded a butcher, perhaps the one who provided the lamb, to undergo the procedure. He also did well and took the lamb home for supper.

Denis immediately reported his success, and then decided to go for the big-time. Antoine Mauroy, once a valet, now roamed the streets of Paris raving, an infamous mad man. Denis planned to transfuse the blood of a calf into Mauroy to attempt to heal his illness. The transfusion reportedly quiets his troubled soul, and he returns to his wife, Perrine, a calmer, saner husband. After a few weeks, she returns to Denis requesting another treatment because Mauroy's ravings have returned. Denis obliges, and a few weeks later, Antoine is dead.

I love mysteries, and I love biomedical science, so the book resonated with me. My favorite parts were some of the anecdotes illustrating various points, especially those that involved kidney disorders. I am, after all, a nephrologist.

Animals and their parts were common folk remedies of the time. Below follows a cure for kidney stones:

In the month of May distill Cow-dung, then take two live Hares, and strangle them in their blood, then take the one of them, and put it into an earthen vessel of a pot, and cover it well with mortar made of horse dung and hay, and bake it in an oven with household bread and let it still in an oven two or three days, until the hare be baked or dried to powder; then beat it well and keep it for your use. The other Hare you must flew, and then take out the guts only; then distill all the rest, and keep this water; then take at the new and full of the moon, or any other time, three mornings together as much of this powder as will lie on six pence, with two spoonfuls of each water; and it will break any stone in the kidneys.

Now that makes remembering to take a once-a-day pill seem easy.

I also loved learning that urine can be used as invisible ink!

Blood Work provides an interesting trip into the history of medicine and its scientific roots. The book becomes available on March 21.

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Long Time, No Post

Oct 27 2010 Published by under What I'm Reading

OK, so it's only been 4 days. Not an unforgivable lapse in the blogosphere, nor an eternity by anyone's standards but my own.

I have often said that no trip goes unpunished, and last week's jaunt has been followed by the inpatient service. This alone keeps me running around town like a crazy woman, but I am still trying to catch up my laundry. Oh, and we have house guests this weekend.

I finally got those two manuscripts reviewed and off of my desk this morning. My daughter dropped by and we got her website with online portfolio organized to her satisfaction (click here to see her award-winning National Organ Donor Awareness Campaign).

Guilty of Blog Delay

But the real villain in this plot is a dead guy, Steig Larsson. On my way home last Saturday, I downloaded The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Yes, I may be the last person in the world to start these books. Why I haven't picked one up before now is unclear. Only pure exhaustion allowed me to put it down last night, a mere 13% before its ending.

[Note: When reading ebooks on my Kindle, I no longer keep track of pages; instead, the percent read neatly ticks up on the bottom of the screen. It's a new way to read.]

My plan is to finish the book tonight come hell or high water so my life can resume, including this blog.

Wish me luck. Of course, if I finish too early, I will just download the next book in the series. At least there are only 3.

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Deadly Quiet Evening at Home

Aug 28 2010 Published by under [Etc], [Science in Society]

Last night, while Scientopia's service inexplicably suspended itself, I used to opportunity to relax a bit. I finished yet-another-murder-mystery and then watched a classic Miss Marple with my Hubby.

An Evening with the Dead

My evening with the dead put me in the mood to fully appreciate an article in the September issue of Scientific American, by Arpad A. Vass.

"Dust to Dust" explores "The brief, eventful afterlife of a human corpse." Decomposition can be divided into four stages: Fresh, Bloat, Active Decay, and Dry. Vass reviews the occurrences of each stage, information used to find bodies and estimate the time of death.

Vass works at the body farm, a laboratory of decomposition at Oak Ridge National Laboratory. Donated bodies are allowed to decompose under a variety of conditions and studied. Vass' most groundbreaking (no pun intended) work involves the volatile chemicals released at various stages. Certain groupings of these compounds can provide a signature for a decomposing human body. Chemicals include freons, aromatic hydrocarbons, sulfur compounds, and carbon tetrachloride. While cadaver dogs can be attracted to these scents, the Vass lab has created a handheld device (code name: Labrador) that can sense this cocktail of death odors. This device can help police and others searching for remains.

Yes, Arpad Vass is the world's expert on decomposition odor analysis.

Really, the article is fascinating (and no scratch-n-sniffs are included), especially in this era of forensic science television. For those of us who love a good (fictional) murder, it is a special treat.

And it is guaranteed to make almost everyone feel like their job is positively glamorous!

Image courtesy of PhotoXpress.

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What I'm Reading: Gaslight Mysteries

Aug 15 2010 Published by under What I'm Reading, [Etc]

Every December my spouse prowls local bookstores for holiday gifts. On Christmas morning, I never know if I will open one huge box or many small packages, but I know I will get books.

My  hubster looks for new mystery series for me. This past year I received 6 of the 12 Gaslight Mysteries by Victoria Thompson; the other 6 now reside on my Kindle, and all have been read in order. Over a period of 6 weeks. Yes, I loved them.

The protagonists of the series include Sarah Brandt, a midwife in New York City in 1896 who rejected her wealthy Knickerbocker family and supports herself with her profession following the death of her idealistic physician husband. While delivering a baby, she encounters an Irish detective, Frank Malloy, in the first book. The victim turns out to be from a wealthy family, and Sarah's "interference" in the investigation proves indispensable in solving the crime. Malloy has issues of his own; the police force has been rocked by Theodore Roosevelt's efforts to introduce professionalism and remove the bribes and corruption that have characterized the force. "Uncle Teddy," as Sarah calls him, has also brought Jews and Italians onto the force amid controversy.

Of course, as a former romance novelist, Thompson allows the "rich girl" and "completely unsuitable boy" to be attracted to each other. Malloy's wife has died in childbirth, so he has a negative reaction to the midwife, even as he is tempted to sneak a peak at her ankles. Then Sarah visits his home where she learns that his son survived the delivery that killed his wife. She eventually figures out that the child is deaf, not retarded, and helps the detective find schooling for him, as well as a surgeon who can repair the little tyke's club foot. Over the course of the dozen books and multiple crimes, the pair become more attracted and involved. Remember, this is 1896- no bodice-ripping in these books, although I keep hoping!

The crimes in the first books were not challenging for a modern (warped?) reader, but puzzling out the killer has been more difficult with each mystery. The development of Coney Island, various immigrant neighborhoods, Victorian fascination with the occult, and the eugenics movement have figured into the cases. The latest volume, Murder on Lexington Avenue, features the debate between signing or solely lip-reading for deaf communication.

The Gaslight Mysteries provide perfect escapism for the beach or airport- not great literature, but great fun.

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