It’s easy to think of scientists and engineers as the same group of people. Both stereotypically wear glasses and use pocket protectors. Both use words that no one else understands and then has trouble figuring out what wasn’t clear. Both know about (and, for some unfathomable reason, enjoy thinking about) incomprehensible things. They commonly take the same classes and discuss the same concepts, although they sometimes use different terminology or notation; for example, many engineers use j and many scientists use i to denote the second root of unity (colloquially, the square root of -1).
Read the whole story...
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Environmentalism, dirty dishes, and good friends
After I drive a car a few miles, there’s a little less oxygen and a little more carbon dioxide (as well as some partially combusted hydrocarbons and maybe some additives) in the air. The amounts of oxygen and so on are so small that they make no perceptible difference. But when lots of people drive lots of miles, they create a remarkable difference in carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere.
The same is true of many environmental issues today: they are not caused by huge destructive acts. Rather, they’re caused by little things that have almost no impact on the environment. But, in aggregate, they can cause all sorts of change to the environment. For so long, humanity’s numbers and technology have been insufficient for us to impact our world in such a subtle manner, so we’ve generally adopted the attitude that any difference that seems insignificant is actually insignificant, no matter how many times it’s multiplied.
This type of thinking manifests itself in other aspects of our daily lives. For example, one plate or cup left out or a few bread crumbs on a table or counter hardly make a huge difference. But several people who live together, each one routinely leaving dishes out and surfaces neglected will quickly find that their living conditions have become unacceptable.
More significantly, we can fail to care for others. Not taking a moment for a friend or loved one once is usually not a big deal. A friend is still a friend, even when we fail to be the friend we should be. However, habitual neglect will destroy any relationship.
So take a minute to talk with a friend. Wash a few dishes. Take a walk instead of driving once in a while. The little positives add up in the same way that the negatives do.
The same is true of many environmental issues today: they are not caused by huge destructive acts. Rather, they’re caused by little things that have almost no impact on the environment. But, in aggregate, they can cause all sorts of change to the environment. For so long, humanity’s numbers and technology have been insufficient for us to impact our world in such a subtle manner, so we’ve generally adopted the attitude that any difference that seems insignificant is actually insignificant, no matter how many times it’s multiplied.
This type of thinking manifests itself in other aspects of our daily lives. For example, one plate or cup left out or a few bread crumbs on a table or counter hardly make a huge difference. But several people who live together, each one routinely leaving dishes out and surfaces neglected will quickly find that their living conditions have become unacceptable.
More significantly, we can fail to care for others. Not taking a moment for a friend or loved one once is usually not a big deal. A friend is still a friend, even when we fail to be the friend we should be. However, habitual neglect will destroy any relationship.
So take a minute to talk with a friend. Wash a few dishes. Take a walk instead of driving once in a while. The little positives add up in the same way that the negatives do.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Fitness of body and soul
I went for a run this morning before the sun came up. There was a moderately hard frost on the ground and some ice on the sides of the roads. Since I'm not much for the cold, it was chilly. I did a few push-ups and sit-ups afterward and then took a shower. It felt great to exercise again.
As I ate breakfast, I was reading an article by President Uchtdorf. He quoted Harold B. Lee, who said that it is what we do about what we know (about spiritual matters) that helps us to maintain that knowledge.
That is, we learn about spiritual matters through the mind and spirit. The evidence of such matters consists largely of thoughts and feelings, which are ever so easy to forget. If we do not act in such a way that we can continue to receive thoughts and feelings from God through the Holy Spirit, then we will lose sight of the evidence that we once had.
After a moment of reflection, I concluded that God gave us our bodies the way they are for a reason. He gave us bodies that require maintenance: exercise, good nutrition, hygiene, and caution. Learning to care for our bodies teaches us how to care for our spirits. We exercise our spirits by doing the things that we know we should do. We nourish our spirits by studying God's words and by praying. Spiritual hygiene involves careful and honest introspection and frank conversation with God, asking Him to forgive us when we fall short. And we should be careful to avoid wounding our spirits through sin.
As we care for our bodies our spirits, we will find similar results: we will be stronger, healthier, and happier. And God is kind enough to teach us about one by showing us the other.
As I ate breakfast, I was reading an article by President Uchtdorf. He quoted Harold B. Lee, who said that it is what we do about what we know (about spiritual matters) that helps us to maintain that knowledge.
That is, we learn about spiritual matters through the mind and spirit. The evidence of such matters consists largely of thoughts and feelings, which are ever so easy to forget. If we do not act in such a way that we can continue to receive thoughts and feelings from God through the Holy Spirit, then we will lose sight of the evidence that we once had.
After a moment of reflection, I concluded that God gave us our bodies the way they are for a reason. He gave us bodies that require maintenance: exercise, good nutrition, hygiene, and caution. Learning to care for our bodies teaches us how to care for our spirits. We exercise our spirits by doing the things that we know we should do. We nourish our spirits by studying God's words and by praying. Spiritual hygiene involves careful and honest introspection and frank conversation with God, asking Him to forgive us when we fall short. And we should be careful to avoid wounding our spirits through sin.
As we care for our bodies our spirits, we will find similar results: we will be stronger, healthier, and happier. And God is kind enough to teach us about one by showing us the other.
Friday, January 1, 2010
How to be a good gospel learner
My dad taught one of the lessons in church this Sunday. This won’t come as a surprise to anyone, but I raised my hand a couple of times during the lesson to answer questions and participate in other ways. I participated even more than usual and the class participated, or so it seemed to me, even less than usual.
Classmates and teachers frequently say things about how often I comment. Out of respect to their mothers’ instruction to say nice things or nothing at all, most of what people say is congratulatory or grateful. But there are enough comments that are neutral or negative to leave no doubt in my mind that my degree of participation is bothersome to some of the people in my classes.
I have taught the gospel as a missionary, as a summer camp counselor, and as a seminary teacher, in addition to a few other capacities. In each of these capacities, I was told that good gospel teachers ask questions because effective gospel learning means that the learners (students and teachers) are taught individually by the Holy Spirit, which usually takes place when they carefully consider the principles being discussed.
As I thought about my dad’s lesson, I realized that students can choose to be good gospel learners. That is, they can choose to learn about the gospel, independently of their teachers.
Good gospel learning is based on the same principle as good gospel teaching; the teacher is the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit teaches when we are trying to learn.
Students can train themselves to ask the same type of questions to themselves that their teachers are trained to ask. They can look for similarities between a story or scriptural passage and aspects of their own life and they can try to identify good examples to follow or mistakes to avoid. They can identify choices that they can make in their own lives to live according to the principles that they learn. Considering gospel principles in this way will certainly invite the personalized teaching of the Holy Spirit that is the objective of every gospel learning situation.
This sort of questioning does not come naturally to every student, but there are things that students can do to develop this ability. Preparing gospel lessons has developed my ability to ask these questions, especially as I have prepared questions for my students in those lesson plans. Asking the type of questions mentioned above during personal gospel study will also develop this ability. Students may also find it useful to read lesson material before class so that the ideas have time to sink in; it may be that people are good at asking themselves useful questions, but not good at asking them quickly enough to be of any use during a class period.
Finally, I encourage every person in every gospel teaching situation to participate vocally. Every one of a person’s ideas may not change someone else’s life, some will. A person’s ideas certainly cannot benefit others if they are not shared. Also ideas become better developed as they are articulated. Those who give voice to their ideas will find better ways to apply gospel principles in their own lives.
I encourage my readers to participate both mentally and vocally in their classes, for their own benefit and for the benefit of others.
Classmates and teachers frequently say things about how often I comment. Out of respect to their mothers’ instruction to say nice things or nothing at all, most of what people say is congratulatory or grateful. But there are enough comments that are neutral or negative to leave no doubt in my mind that my degree of participation is bothersome to some of the people in my classes.
I have taught the gospel as a missionary, as a summer camp counselor, and as a seminary teacher, in addition to a few other capacities. In each of these capacities, I was told that good gospel teachers ask questions because effective gospel learning means that the learners (students and teachers) are taught individually by the Holy Spirit, which usually takes place when they carefully consider the principles being discussed.
As I thought about my dad’s lesson, I realized that students can choose to be good gospel learners. That is, they can choose to learn about the gospel, independently of their teachers.
Good gospel learning is based on the same principle as good gospel teaching; the teacher is the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit teaches when we are trying to learn.
Students can train themselves to ask the same type of questions to themselves that their teachers are trained to ask. They can look for similarities between a story or scriptural passage and aspects of their own life and they can try to identify good examples to follow or mistakes to avoid. They can identify choices that they can make in their own lives to live according to the principles that they learn. Considering gospel principles in this way will certainly invite the personalized teaching of the Holy Spirit that is the objective of every gospel learning situation.
This sort of questioning does not come naturally to every student, but there are things that students can do to develop this ability. Preparing gospel lessons has developed my ability to ask these questions, especially as I have prepared questions for my students in those lesson plans. Asking the type of questions mentioned above during personal gospel study will also develop this ability. Students may also find it useful to read lesson material before class so that the ideas have time to sink in; it may be that people are good at asking themselves useful questions, but not good at asking them quickly enough to be of any use during a class period.
Finally, I encourage every person in every gospel teaching situation to participate vocally. Every one of a person’s ideas may not change someone else’s life, some will. A person’s ideas certainly cannot benefit others if they are not shared. Also ideas become better developed as they are articulated. Those who give voice to their ideas will find better ways to apply gospel principles in their own lives.
I encourage my readers to participate both mentally and vocally in their classes, for their own benefit and for the benefit of others.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Feelings of inadequacy at Christmastime
It doesn't take a whole lot to excite me, so the glitz of Christmastime is more than enough. I love the lights and the music and everything else that's shiny. But Christmastime can be a downer, too.
I love to serve people. I can't think of a thing that makes me happier than putting a smile on a friend's face. I try to find and to meet others' needs every day, regardless of the month.
During the month of December, the people around me seem to catch the vision. Everyone knows about opportunities to serve and takes them. People become so generous and happy. And I feel exactly the same, so I think that I'm falling behind.
This feeling, of course, is not a positive one. It reflects a desire to excel (http://scriptures.lds.org/en/dc/58/41#41). Its premise doesn't even make sense; it is based on an oversimplified comparison that I make between myself and others. I can't possibly know enough about my own psyche to adequately compare myself to anything and certainly can't know others' thoughts well enough to compare.
My feelings of inadequacy at Christmastime demonstrate a need for me to improve: to improve my attitude and to rid myself of the habit of comparing myself to others. Pres. Eyring suggested a healthier way to improve (found here): I can compare myself with myself at times past. If I am improving, then so will my feelings at Christmastime. My hope is to continue to build on my strengths without trying to make myself better than anyone except my past self. I am confident that if I do so consistently, each Christmastime will truly be brighter than the last.
I love to serve people. I can't think of a thing that makes me happier than putting a smile on a friend's face. I try to find and to meet others' needs every day, regardless of the month.
During the month of December, the people around me seem to catch the vision. Everyone knows about opportunities to serve and takes them. People become so generous and happy. And I feel exactly the same, so I think that I'm falling behind.
This feeling, of course, is not a positive one. It reflects a desire to excel (http://scriptures.lds.org/en/dc/58/41#41). Its premise doesn't even make sense; it is based on an oversimplified comparison that I make between myself and others. I can't possibly know enough about my own psyche to adequately compare myself to anything and certainly can't know others' thoughts well enough to compare.
My feelings of inadequacy at Christmastime demonstrate a need for me to improve: to improve my attitude and to rid myself of the habit of comparing myself to others. Pres. Eyring suggested a healthier way to improve (found here): I can compare myself with myself at times past. If I am improving, then so will my feelings at Christmastime. My hope is to continue to build on my strengths without trying to make myself better than anyone except my past self. I am confident that if I do so consistently, each Christmastime will truly be brighter than the last.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Reflections on seminary teaching
As part of a class (and so that I could gather information for my decision about a career - see my previous post) I taught a seminary class for two weeks. In summary, I loved the first week, but I thought that I could have been more exciting. And during the weekend between the two weeks, I decided that I would teach computer science as a career (as opposed to seminary).
On Tuesday of the second week, I taught about Mosiah, chapters 3-6 (in the Book of Mormon). I wanted to be more exciting than I had been, but those chapters are very sacred because they testify directly of Jesus Christ. It's easy to have fun with historical chapters of scripture, but those chapters are a king and prophet's final words to his people. The class was attentive, but I could tell that it wasn't terribly exciting to them.
Then, on Thursday, the students filled out feedback forms about my teaching. Afterward, I taught Mosiah 7-10. These chapters were mostly historical and we had some fun with them. The class broke up into four groups and each group took one of the stories found in those chapters. Two of the groups told the class their story by skit and the other two drew diagrams on the board and explained. I think they had fun, and then we wrapped up.
When I got home after teaching, I took a moment to read my feedback. I was surprised (and so were my friends) to see that my comments consistently told me to be more interesting or enthusiastic. One student told me to have a personality!
It took me a little while to assure myself that I did actually have a personality. Since then, I've done a lot of thinking.
I thought about the necessary balance between information and entertainment. If I focus on teaching and spend no time trying to make my presentation interesting, I can communicate more information. On the other hand, efforts to make my presentation entertaining help students to pay attention (and learn as a result).
I also thought about how people teach and learn at BYU, as far as I have been able to observe. The general rule is that it is the students' responsibility to learn and the teachers' to teach. If the students don't pay attention, that's their problem.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm curious. I don't just try to learn. I fight to learn. That said, I have a lot of trouble staying awake in lots of my classes. Part of this is the fact that I don't make myself sleep enough at nighttime. But part of it is because many of my teachers focus at conveying information. They're good at it, but there isn't much flair in their presentation. Even though I really want to learn, I have trouble paying attention when classes are boring.
And if I, who am extraordinarily curious, cannot learn as well from boring (but informative) classes as I can from entertaining classes, then I definitely must learn to teach in an entertaining manner. After all, the point of teaching is students' learning.
Since it will take me a few years to receive a PhD, I won't be teaching for a little while. I'd still recommend that you brace yourself now, though. This is a lesson that I intend to apply.
On Tuesday of the second week, I taught about Mosiah, chapters 3-6 (in the Book of Mormon). I wanted to be more exciting than I had been, but those chapters are very sacred because they testify directly of Jesus Christ. It's easy to have fun with historical chapters of scripture, but those chapters are a king and prophet's final words to his people. The class was attentive, but I could tell that it wasn't terribly exciting to them.
Then, on Thursday, the students filled out feedback forms about my teaching. Afterward, I taught Mosiah 7-10. These chapters were mostly historical and we had some fun with them. The class broke up into four groups and each group took one of the stories found in those chapters. Two of the groups told the class their story by skit and the other two drew diagrams on the board and explained. I think they had fun, and then we wrapped up.
When I got home after teaching, I took a moment to read my feedback. I was surprised (and so were my friends) to see that my comments consistently told me to be more interesting or enthusiastic. One student told me to have a personality!
It took me a little while to assure myself that I did actually have a personality. Since then, I've done a lot of thinking.
I thought about the necessary balance between information and entertainment. If I focus on teaching and spend no time trying to make my presentation interesting, I can communicate more information. On the other hand, efforts to make my presentation entertaining help students to pay attention (and learn as a result).
I also thought about how people teach and learn at BYU, as far as I have been able to observe. The general rule is that it is the students' responsibility to learn and the teachers' to teach. If the students don't pay attention, that's their problem.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm curious. I don't just try to learn. I fight to learn. That said, I have a lot of trouble staying awake in lots of my classes. Part of this is the fact that I don't make myself sleep enough at nighttime. But part of it is because many of my teachers focus at conveying information. They're good at it, but there isn't much flair in their presentation. Even though I really want to learn, I have trouble paying attention when classes are boring.
And if I, who am extraordinarily curious, cannot learn as well from boring (but informative) classes as I can from entertaining classes, then I definitely must learn to teach in an entertaining manner. After all, the point of teaching is students' learning.
Since it will take me a few years to receive a PhD, I won't be teaching for a little while. I'd still recommend that you brace yourself now, though. This is a lesson that I intend to apply.
Friday, November 20, 2009
How I finally decided on a career
As I've mentioned before, I've been trying to decide for some months between two different career options: teaching seminary and teaching computer science. I needed to answer two questions: which of the two I wanted to do and which, if either, God would have me do. I came to know early on that it was my decision to make. So I gathered information and thought deeply and often about the advantages of either choice.
As part of this decision-making process, I taught a seminary class for the last two weeks. I couldn't believe how great my students were. They were attentive, helped each other, and really wanted to learn about the gospel. I had fun getting to know them and trying to be the best teacher I could be for their specific needs.
Halfway through my two weeks, we discussed the first two chapters of the Book of Mosiah (in the Book of Mormon). I thought I'd been a little too dry, so I tried to make the lesson a bit more entertaining than my previous two. My efforts were moderately successful, and I thought the lesson went extremely well.
As I left the building, I thought about how much I loved teaching these students. It's challenging and fun. I realized that the single thing I love most about teaching seminary is the feeling I get when I teach the gospel. The Holy Spirit testifies of truth, and it testifies most strongly when we learn something new or when we teach others (see http://scriptures.lds.org/en/dc/50/21,22#21). As I thought about it, I realized that I recognized the feeling from the countless times I've taught others about the truths I know and hold dear, formally and informally. It was the same feeling I enjoyed in those particularly good lessons on the mission, in the devotionals I taught to my participants at EFY, and in conversations with friends. I realized that because I have no plans to stop living and talking about the gospel, I have no reason to suppose that I'll stop having opportunities to teach the gospel.
This realization meant that the largest motivation I had to teach seminary over any other career was largely irrelevant. I hadn't yet decided, but I immediately recognized that this would be an important consideration in my decision.
Towards the end of the week, I talked with a professor and friend of mine. I don't remember what we were discussing, but I remember that we touched on some research I'd heard about last year that was a collaboration between electrical engineers and classicists. I remember thinking that perhaps my niche could be to encourage such collaboration between departments and colleges. I thought that I would only be able to fill this particular niche if I decided to pursue a career in computer science. As with my previously mentioned consideration, I filed the fact away for further consideration without making a decision in the moment.
The next day, I went to the temple. I had a moment to sit and think and pray. I took advantage of the opportunity to discuss what I'd learned with God and to ask Him to help me to gather the information I would need in order to make a reasonable decision. I had expected a long, drawn-out process over the course of the next several months. So I was floored when I had the distinct impression that God told me that He'd already given me all the information I needed. I thought for a moment, made a decision, and told Him about it. He accepted and approved of my decision.
I am now preparing for a career as a professor of computer science.
As part of this decision-making process, I taught a seminary class for the last two weeks. I couldn't believe how great my students were. They were attentive, helped each other, and really wanted to learn about the gospel. I had fun getting to know them and trying to be the best teacher I could be for their specific needs.
Halfway through my two weeks, we discussed the first two chapters of the Book of Mosiah (in the Book of Mormon). I thought I'd been a little too dry, so I tried to make the lesson a bit more entertaining than my previous two. My efforts were moderately successful, and I thought the lesson went extremely well.
As I left the building, I thought about how much I loved teaching these students. It's challenging and fun. I realized that the single thing I love most about teaching seminary is the feeling I get when I teach the gospel. The Holy Spirit testifies of truth, and it testifies most strongly when we learn something new or when we teach others (see http://scriptures.lds.org/en/dc/50/21,22#21). As I thought about it, I realized that I recognized the feeling from the countless times I've taught others about the truths I know and hold dear, formally and informally. It was the same feeling I enjoyed in those particularly good lessons on the mission, in the devotionals I taught to my participants at EFY, and in conversations with friends. I realized that because I have no plans to stop living and talking about the gospel, I have no reason to suppose that I'll stop having opportunities to teach the gospel.
This realization meant that the largest motivation I had to teach seminary over any other career was largely irrelevant. I hadn't yet decided, but I immediately recognized that this would be an important consideration in my decision.
Towards the end of the week, I talked with a professor and friend of mine. I don't remember what we were discussing, but I remember that we touched on some research I'd heard about last year that was a collaboration between electrical engineers and classicists. I remember thinking that perhaps my niche could be to encourage such collaboration between departments and colleges. I thought that I would only be able to fill this particular niche if I decided to pursue a career in computer science. As with my previously mentioned consideration, I filed the fact away for further consideration without making a decision in the moment.
The next day, I went to the temple. I had a moment to sit and think and pray. I took advantage of the opportunity to discuss what I'd learned with God and to ask Him to help me to gather the information I would need in order to make a reasonable decision. I had expected a long, drawn-out process over the course of the next several months. So I was floored when I had the distinct impression that God told me that He'd already given me all the information I needed. I thought for a moment, made a decision, and told Him about it. He accepted and approved of my decision.
I am now preparing for a career as a professor of computer science.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)