Update your Damn Webpages!

Approximate Reading Time: 2 minutes

I am guilty of some of this myself, but in my own defense, I have over 750 webpages in several websites, not to mention a blog, several photo galleries, and a moodle site (I am not counting my old course websites which would add hundreds more pages). Some of my pages don’t get the attention they perhaps should. What’s your excuse? How many do you have?

If you are a professional, and especially if you are an academic make sure that at LEAST your portfolio is up to date. Academics have GOT to be the worst when it comes to this. I have lost track of how many times I have gone to a faculty webpage trying to find out about what they are doing (or looking for a paper) only to find they last updated their page in 2008!!! Come ON. It makes you look inept. And while I’m at it, how can you claim to be for social networking and sharing knowledge when you don’t even give us links to your papers?

Any time I mention this to the perpetrators they dismiss it by telling me how busy they are. I am not an academic now but I was and I KNOW how busy you are. Keeping your portfolio up to date doesn’t take that long. It only takes seconds if you have your web pages set up right and you put these things in when you get your acceptance notice.

How many of you make your students create portfolios of their work? Do you expect them to keep these up to date? Of course you do. What will they find if they look at yours? If it’s not also up to date, then SHAME ON YOU.

By the way, don’t bother to list papers you have only submitted. These only matter in your annual review. From this end it looks like you are trying to inflate your importance. Listing something that’s been accepted but not yet published is different. At least that’s been reviewed.

Here’s what it’ll take to keep your ‘portfolio’ up to date: 15-20 minutes a once a week. That’s really it. 15-20 minutes. Once a week. I bet many of you spend more time than that flipping through the selections in your ipod in a week. I bet many of you spend that much time playing around with your media player every day. You have the time to keep your portfolio up to date. You just can’t be bothered.

If you don’t want to look like a tech-pretender then make sure that at least your publications and course links are up to date. If you don’t have access to your own page then set one up to which you DO have access. You don’t need an admin assistant to manage your personal webpages. If your webpages are set up in a way that make quick mods awkward, then FIX them. If they are hidden behind a wall so that only people in your own institution can see or find them – then get with the 21st century. As far as I’m concerned stuff hidden behind walls doesn’t count.

If you are in a tech-related field and you don’t have a web presence – SHAME ON YOU. What decade do you think this is?

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Horses, Buggies, and Trendy Sheep: Appropriate Technology and Modern Times

Approximate Reading Time: 3 minutes

Do either of these descriptions fit you? (be honest now – no-one is looking)

Overloaded

Overloaded

Horse and Buggy Educators

Are you one of these?

At one time you were at the top of your game. You are a good teacher but the rapid advances in technology over the last 10 years (and especially the last 5)  have gotten ahead of you. You know your teaching skills are still sound. That should be enough. You aren’t convinced that technology makes a difference as long as you are a good teacher. You feel you have no time to learn these new tools. Besides, your style of teaching doesn’t require anything beyond an overhead and the occasional posting to BlackBoard. After all, the technology is simply the medium for the content – you are what makes the learning happen.

You should know this: Good teaching is not enough. Yes, I know it is really hard to keep up – and even harder to know which new technologies are worth investing the time to learn. Problem is, at some point, your lack of technical savvy will overshadow your teaching talent. You will loose credibility and become ineffective in spite of your ability. At some point, sticking to your old familiar tools will make you look too old to understand your students and you will loose that vital connection to your students that is essential to learning. They won’t learn from you if they don’t respect you, and they won’t respect you if you don’t make an effort to understand their world.

2008-01-22_17-30-29_001b_wmBandwagoners

(a.k.a. dedicated followers of fashion)

Perhaps you are more like this?

At the other end of the spectrum we have the trendy sheep: bandwagoners who try to be currant by effusing over every new technology. You never tire of repeating the phrase, “The medium IS the message.” (By the way, if you haven’t done so lately – go and read the rest of the chapter that contains that quote. It really isn’t quite as simplistic as all that.)

You pride yourself in your ability to blog, tweet, digg, cast, share, crowdsource, and social this-and-that. You buy anything made by Apple and think everything they have is groundbreaking (and original). More and more items on your desk and in your house and yard start with the letter ‘i’ or the word “smart” (even though most of them actually aren’t).

No-one can tell anymore if you are a good teacher or not because most of what you do is connect to other people’s stuff. Some of it is probably brilliant, but understand that 90% of what’s out there is crap. Always has been and likely always will be.

You should know this: your students, for the most part don’t respect you either. It is one thing to be “with it” and know what’s going on, but at some point it goes beyond that and you become a groupie. Yes, you can impress those who know less than you. That’s not really anything to be proud of.

The Solution

Oddly, the solution for both problems is essentially the same. Sadly, it’s going to cost you time. And some humility. Both groups of people tend to display peacock sized pride over what they do. Neither group typically understands the technology (yes, even those dedicated followers rarely understand how anything really works – just because you know how to use something doesn’t mean you understand it.)

Take it slowly. Choose some technology or approach to explore and find out more about it – and that includes finding out what people who use it are saying AS WELL AS finding out what the detractors are saying. Think about ways to use this tool in your teaching. Then try it. Give it a decent try. Keep track of what you like and don’t like about it as well as what your students think. Don’t be afraid to let them know you are ‘experimenting’ – ask them for help and opinions. And, learn about the tool you are using so you are more than a mere ‘user’.

There are only two industries that refer to their customers as ‘users’. (Edward Tufte)

The tricky part is to be able to look critically at each tool you try. Horse-and-buggiers (HaBs) tend to be overly critical and quick to judge, whereas bandwagonners (DFoFs – dedicated followers of fashion)  are rarely critical at all, and often don’t get around to evaluating whether or not this tool is actually helping.

Some tools will end up being useful for you and others won’t.

There are some very useful tools out there amidst all that din. Very few are good for the range of things their flatterers claim they are. Some may take years before they are polished and truly reliable. There is a very broad happy medium. Find it and use it.

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How to add more game to your class.

Approximate Reading Time: 4 minutes

News: Gaming as Teaching Tool – Inside Higher Ed.

I’ve seen this kind of angle before – I think it has a lot of potential and deserves more attention.

One of the key lessons we can learn from a gaming approach is that it should really be OK to get things wrong and to try again. That is after all how most of us actually learn. Traditional school doesn’t really foster this approach. How many assignments allow for re-submission? How often do we provide multiple (and alternative) ways to earn marks?

Do we give the impression that everyone essentially starts off with an ‘A’ and then they LOSE marks by screwing up? I think the very notion that something is OUT OF X implies that if you get less than X you have LOST something. Notice that videogames often don’t give a ‘perfect score’ or maximum value. They may set a minimum needed to go on but you always get to keep trying till to get there.

It wouldn’t really be that hard to use a game model for assessment in a course. Here’s one who’s done it: The Escapist : News : Professor Abandons Grades for Experience Points.

There is a minimum level and number of points you must achieve to pass. Each task is assigned a number of points. We can offer points for attendance, for questions asked, and answered. Even if you needed, say, 100,000 points to pass, you can offer 10 points for something and people feel like they’re making progress. You offer more points to things that are more important and fewer to things that aren’t.

This offers a great deal of flexibility and based on my personal experiences with a bonus point system I used in my classes, students seem to view things differently when you use ‘points’ instead of grades or percentages – even though it ends up translating to the same thing. This seems to be true even when they know it is the same. When told that offering a bonus for doing something and taking off a mark for not doing it end up having the same impact on the overall grade, the student said, “Sure, but the first one feels better.”

I’ve used bonus points in my classes for years to encourage innovative approaches and embellishments to assignment solutions that were not called for or anticipated in the specifications. Bonus points were assessed separately form the regular assignment specifications as a way of encouraging students to enhance their solutions, but at the same time making it clear that these embellishments are not considered to be part of the normal requirements. This way students know that they are not penalized for not doing extra, and can be assured that they can still earn an ‘A’ on an assignment by doing a good job of the problem as specified. This is important.

This system was originally instituted as a means of justifying a shift into the next higher letter grade for students whose final percent put them close to a letter-grade cut-off. I translated bonus points to actual percentage points at a ratio of 10:1 (10 points = 1%), but with an upper limit such that students could only increase their final letter grade by one step. In other words, a student can raise his or her mark from a ‘B’ to a ‘B+’ by earning sufficient bonus points, but it is not possible to raise a mark from a B’ to an ‘A-‘. On a practical level, if a letter grade step spans a 5% spread, this means that the maximum number of bonus points that could be used to affect a grade is 49. Bonus points typically ranged from 2 to 10 points for any one embellishment. For example, suppose a programming assignment called for a Java implementation of a simple calculator that implements 4 basic operators (+, -, *, /) and arguments consisting of single-digit numbers. A 2-point bonus might be to allow for natural numbers rather than single digits, and a 10-point bonus might be to implement a fully-functional standard calculator.

This bonus point system had several very positive effects. First, students rarely try to argue to have their grade ‘bumped up’ if they find their final mark is near a letter grade cut-off at the end of term. If they have earned bonus points throughout the term then they have probably already been shifted up, and if they have not earned sufficient bonus points, they realize it will be difficult for them to make the case that they deserve the higher grade. Second, average students can achieve full marks on an assignment without doing ‘bonus’ work, while above-average and exceptional students can be offered additional challenges and then be rewarded for meeting them. In the classes I taught, about 90% of students earned at least some bonus points. Average bonus point scores ranged from 4 to 33, with class maximums ranging from 54 to a record 149 points. It is worth noting that the students who earn the highest bonus points are often those for whom the points will have the least effect, as most of them would have earned an ‘A’ in the class in any case. When asked, these students say that they use these points as a means of keeping score. Finally, most students report that they appreciate the open-endedness of this system, as they feel it gives them some control over their own work and encourages them to try things they might not otherwise try, knowing their efforts will be recognized.

I think there is a lot of psychology going on here that people are not examining. People like to keep score, and having to be explicit about the requirements you set for your students and how they can meet them has got to be a good thing. I suspect it is unlikely to become popular because too many teachers (at all levels) don’t *really* know what they want from their students. It is so much easier to set a typical test than to decide what they should be learning and figure out how to determine if they did that.

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Students May Not Be as Software-Savvy as They Think, Study Says – Wired Campus – The Chronicle of Higher Education

Approximate Reading Time: < 1 minute

I’ve been saying this for years:

Students May Not Be as Software-Savvy as They Think, Study Says – Wired Campus – The Chronicle of Higher Education.

Below is a talk I started giving in 2005.

Just because people know how to use a tool doesn’t mean they understand that tool. Most of the talk is not about that (the relevant slide is #7), but we really need to get over being impressed by all the gadgets and start looking at what they are, what they can do, and what we need to know in order to use them effectively. Almost always,  you need to know more than how to turn it on and press play.

Sometimes we defer to the ‘superior savvy’ of students because it saves us having to learn it ourselves. We don’t actually look at what they are doing and how they are doing it. For example, even though most people say they know how to ‘Google’, the truth is that most don’t actually know how to find things OR to determine if what they found is worth believing.

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What do programming languages and educational technologies have in common?

Approximate Reading Time: < 1 minute

Quite a lot as it turns out.

They are both tools used to solve problems.

Both are complex.

Both inspire cult-like emotional attachments to specific tools.

Practitioners in both fields are still looking for the panacea that will allow people without knowledge, experience, or imagination to produce stuff that can be used.

Both are the means to an end and have very little value in and of themselves.

Both require a deep understanding of the technology upon which they rely.

Practitioners in both fields often lack that deep understanding.

Oct. 14, 1985: C++ Adds to Programming | This Day In Tech | Wired.com.

Here are a couple of quotes that would apply equally well to either:

I consider the idea of one language, one programming tool, as the one and only best tool for everyone and for every problem infantile. If someone claims to have the perfect language he is either a fool or a salesman or both.

Sometimes, it is more important to have the right problem than the best solution

When done well, software is invisible. There are several processors in my little camera, but I don’t think of my camera as a computer. There are dozens of computers in a modern car, but we still think of it as a car.


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The Decorative Media Principle

Approximate Reading Time: 4 minutes

I’ve been looking around at a lot of educational sites and I keep running into the same thing. Many of them LOOK nice – I mean: they have nice colours, cute or otherwise appealing characters and graphics; some of them even have good interface design. The problem is that in far too many of these sites the promise implied by the visual appeal is not fulfilled by the content.

These places are shallow and demonstrate what I have called “The Decorative Media Principle”.

The challenge of integrating learning objectives with the delivery medium is far from new. In some instances, it is easier than in others. We’ve been doing this sort of thing for decades, such as in worksheets for drill and practice. It is common to create a visually pleasing background connected with the current theme – especially in the lower elementary grades. I’ve done it myself: in my “Ducks in the Classroom” project I have vocabulary and word games that can be created on a pleasing backgrounds that connect with the words used in the exercise – a nest, words enclosed in images of eggs, duck footprints, etc. (Some worksheets are here, and decorations here) This idea of ‘decorating’ a worksheet works well for a great many themes, and can be applied quite effectively and generically. Need a worksheet related to Louis XIV? Add some pictures, maybe a few quotes, and if skillfully done, we have added value, fun, even connections for the learners to capitalize upon. So the serious part underlining this principle is that, at least sometimes, the ‘decorations’ can help learners form connections by giving them visual ‘tags’ upon which to hang ideas and facts. Adding to the visual appeal can boost the impact of what you’re trying to get across, and this sometimes works even if the connection between the decoration and the content is weak.

The same principle often works reasonably well for instruction delivered via a website – so long as the website is primarily organized as ‘print transferred online’. Taking online delivery a step further, the principle still largely holds, even when there are various interactive elements on the website or CD. The Hatching Project Candling Tutorial is a case in point. It includes many images, video, and self-tests, and it has received many positive reviews from all over the world, but aside from the non-linear interconnections, it is still many orders of magnitude less complex than a computer game.

Unfortunately, when applied to fully interactive media (specifically games), this ‘Decorative Media Principle’ does not translate well. It is simply not enough. The result is often a game that is little more than a wrapper for the instructional materials. Sometimes it doesn’t even have that – it’s just a wrapper. Ever get a bag of wrapped candy and find one that is just wrapper and no candy? THAT’s what I’m talking about.

Rather than incur the wrath of well-meaning, but misguided edutainment developers by giving specific examples, let me offer a purely hypothetical description. Imagine a game that starts off as many typical commercial games do, with cool images and some sort of backstory – you are the world’s last hope, and must use your superhuman powers to save mankind, and some sort of quest or challenge that must be overcome – defeat the enemy, or recover the lost treasure. But then, when the gameplay reaches a crucial moment, a new screen pops up showing what any child over 6 can identify as an “exercise”, and the world-saving task to be accomplished turns out to be solving a quadratic equation. The answer to this equation, for some thinly justified reason, is the key. Even though the resultant number has no connection to the rest of the story, it is some kind of magic number that defeats the enemy. Even worse, this ‘embedded worksheet’ looks nothing like the rest of the game – in fact, it looks suspiciously like the paper worksheet that was used in the same class the year before. This is what has become synonymous with ‘edutainment’, and it’s not good.

Chicktionary

To be fair, there are some wonderful examples of fun games that employ this principle effectively – to remain with the hatching theme, examine the kewlbox.com game called Chicktionary (formerly Fowl Words). This game is little more than an interactive worksheet, but the artwork, sounds, and design make it a great deal of fun. Part of what makes this particular game work is that it does not pretend to be more than the simple puzzle it is.

Privacy Playground: The First Adventure of the Three CyberPigs

The other day I came across another example that offers a stark contrast, and I am ashamed to acknowledge that this is a Canadian production.  It is part of a website about internet security for kids called, Privacy Playground. Visually, it is quite nice and the cartoon characters are even sort of cute. We get the first hint that something may be amiss when we meet their main emissaries: the CyberPigs. My first reaction to this was, “You’re KIDDING me!” THIS is what they have decided to call the good guys? How stupid do they think kids are? Do they have any idea how much credibility they loose by showing how out of touch they are? Every kid I’ve showed this to thinks this is a joke. But OK. Let’s move on. This site advertises various games featuring these CyberPigs (they are kind of cute, but that does not make up for the deeply misguided choice of animal).

Privacy Playground: The First Adventure of the Three CyberPigs

The “game” is a perfect example of my decorative media principle when it has utterly failed.  After sitting thorough numerous screens full of “lesson” set-up, we get the “game” part:  a yes-no question!! You CAN’T be serious! How dare they call this a game.

There are countless examples of the decorative media principle in action – some that have “games” and some that don’t. One of the conclusions I am coming to is that the mis-application of the decorative media principle is something that starts in early childhood. Here it comes from a pure and innocent desire to make things more attractive. There’s really nothing wrong with that, and this kind of experimentation and practice deserves to be encouraged. However, at some point we need to grow beyond in those situations where we actually want to communicate something.

At some point we need to help kids understand that it’s NOT OK to spend 95% of the time you spend working on a presentation trying out different fonts and backgrounds and hunting for clipart and only 5% of your time on content. At some point teachers need to be less impressed with how things look and pay more attention to what is actually communicated.

This applies to everyone else too. The medium is only PART of the message, folks.

Reference: Chicktionary: Farm Fresh Goodness [PC] (2003), Blockdot, Inc., (Developer), Kewlbox (Publisher) Game Site: http://www.kewlbox.com/games/gameDetail.aspx?gameID=117

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How I Got Into Computer Science (The Early Years)

Approximate Reading Time: 4 minutes

A while back, I came across a post on Mark Guzdial’s blog about a new blog on women in computing.

Among other things, they were looking for contributions from people in computing that talk about their experiences in IT. I’ve been thinking about putting some of this down ‘on paper’ for a while, so I thought, why not add my experiences. I’ve been in the ‘biz’ for over 30 years. I’ve had good times and really, really (I mean REALLY) horrible ones. So here goes.

If you’re looking for inspiration, DON’T read this post; read the second one – it has the happy, inspirational part. This post takes you to my first computer course in university and explains why I’ve never really felt like ‘one of the girls’.

Also, don’t read any of the “why I got out of CS” posts (to come later) if you’re looking for good news about women in computing, ’cause my story is not an optimistic one.

The summer before grade 11 (I was 14).

I graduated from high school in 1975. I was 16. Needless to say, my school experiences were not typical ones. I started out loving school (like many kids). I was younger than most when I started and got accelerated in grade 2 – I ended up doing grade 2, 3, and 4 in 2 years. I was part of an ‘experimental’ group of 6 girls. I have no idea what the other 5 are doing these days – we moved when I was in grade 5 and I never saw them again. I know it seems I’m going a long way back but this set up a significant situation for me that lasted until I finished high school – I was a full 2 years younger than most of my classmates and as a result I was perceived as different: ‘the smart kid’, a label I often tried to live down.

I grew up when I Dream of Jeanie and Bewitched contained the stereotypical female role models. I chose Emma Peel from The Avengers instead. Maybe that tells you something. I also avoided learning how to type. When I was in high school, typing classes prepared you for being a secretary, and I wanted to make sure I would never be qualified to be a secretary.

For as long as I can remember, my passion was animals. I now have a farm, but that’s a different story. Where all this intersects with this story is that by the time I was a senior in high school, I HATED school, had almost no friends, and had absolutely NO interest in anything technological – not exactly someone you’d expect to end up making a career in computer science. I was going to follow in Jane Goodall‘s footsteps, only I wanted to study wolves.

After graduating from high school (barely), I took some time off and worked. My first job was at the local Animal Shelter. That job ended up with my having to quit because I helped to get my bosses charged with cruelty to animals and the judge let them off, apparently not believing that these two guys could have done the things we claimed they did. They actually did do what we said they did. Welcome to the grown-up world. If you’re really good at lying and are able to terrify the people who work for you, you sometimes get away with it. That too is another story (maybe later).

After quitting the humane society I worked at a gas station (got fired for not sleeping with my boss – no big surprise there – I was 17 and he was 50ish, short and sleazy – YUK!), a sporting goods store, and a women’s clothing store. After a year and a half of working in a mall, it was time to go back to school. I was going to major in biology, of course. I started half-way through the year during the winter semester – I was still working part-time at the mall.

Unlike high school, university agreed with me. I really liked it. Remember though, it was 1977 and for the most part the only people who went to university were the people who actually wanted to go to university. At that time it was still possible to make a good life by starting to work after high school.

After scraping through high school and working retail for a year and a half, university was also quite a shock. My first 3 courses were Calculus, Physics, and Biology. I was thrilled just to survive. I got ‘adopted’ early on by another freshman who decided I should be her friend and study partner. To be honest I’m not sure if I would have made it had it not been for her and her group of friends. They were a group of about a dozen East Indians, largely from Uganda and Kenya. I’m pretty white. I have NO idea why they thought I’d make a good addition to their group, but they were friendly, kind, and generous. I learned a lot and it was exactly what I needed to get started in school. We lost touch during the summer but I will be forever grateful to them.

It was during the next year – my first full year as a student – that I took my first computer science course: “Programming for the Natural Sciences”. I recall that it was required for my biology degree.

[read on for part two…]

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How I Got Into Computer Science (The Happy Years)

Approximate Reading Time: 5 minutes

A while back, I came across a post on Mark Guzdial’s blog about a new blog on women in computing. They were looking for stories about how women get into computer science.

This post is the second in an autobiographical series about how I got into (and then out of) computer science (the first is here). I think there are some bits in here that others might find useful.

I never planned to go into computer science. I never even considered it in high school. If anything, I was thoroughly anti-technology when I started university. I was going to major in Biology.

The first piece of computer equipment I used: a Decwriter (image source: media commons)

My first semester, I took Physics. One of our labs required us to run a crude (though not at the time) computer simulation of a spring with a weight on it.

It was the first time I had ever used a computer. I was fascinated. It was fun playing with that simulation. The following semester, I took my first programming course. It was a course for majors in the natural sciences (majoring in biology, remember?). The language was FORTRAN, with SPSS thrown in during the last few weeks for good measure.

A bunch of things all came together while taking that course that ended with my decision to consider going into computer science:

  • I had an excellent instructor with a good sense of humour. He made it seem easy, and we had a lot of fun getting there. (SO, many thanks to Bill Pulleyblank for making my first experience with programming a blast. And by the way, thanks for teaching me SPSS – it got me several programming jobs that helped get me through several years of school.)
  • I had a T.A. who took me under his wing and told me he thought I could be good at this. (Neal, I owe you a lot!)
  • That same T.A. also made me feel like I was really part of something for the first time in my life. He introduced me to his office mate (who is still a good friend to this day), let me leave my stuff in his office,  invited me to sit in the faculty coffee lounge (this turned out to be the most important class I ever had), and dragged me along to the departmental Friday night dinners.

Wait. What? Departmental dinners? Professors and grad students … with a freshman?

For me, there were two main reasons I got into computer science:

  1. The culture of the department I was in was open, fun, lively, and full of optimism for the future. It was exciting!
  2. I discovered that a big part of computer science was about sorting, making lists and organizing. I LOVE organizing and making lists. Perhaps a lot of women do. I’ve never understood why we don’t play up this aspect of CS more.

The first point is HUGE. I was totally welcomed. For the first time in my life there was a group of people who liked that I was smart and who weren’t all trying to get into my pants. OK, maybe a few of them were, but they were way closer to my age than my former boss Reg from the gas station, and they were all grad students, so, they all had bright futures. And the friendships didn’t change when I said no. That was also new for me.

It might have been the perfect time to get into CS. The future looked dazzlingly bright and by the way, I didn’t even realize there was money to be made in CS until well into 3rd year. I got into it because it was cool – being able to control millions of dollars worth of high tech machinery was one hell of a power trip.

The classes were small – by the time I got to 4th year, most of my classes had fewer than 20 people in them and we all knew each other (which means we also all knew who actually knew something, who made it on the backs of others, and who cheated). Not one of our professors had a degree in computer science. In hind sight, I think this was very important. CS was too young for anyone to have a PhD in it. That meant that all of our professors had been trained in some other discipline. They learned CS by doing it – some had worked for IBM, some had worked on early mainframes, and some had been involved with computers almost from the very beginning of computers. They had a perspective that most of today’s faculty can’t even imagine. They brought a richness to the class that no amount of academy research can match. These were all people who had used computers to do real things. CS is an applied discipline – how can someone who’s never applied what they do inspire anyone?

Back to the departmental culture. It was an amazing place. This department was a place where undergraduate and graduate students mixed socially with faculty, where students like me could sit in the faculty coffee lounge and listen to professors discuss everything from politics to computer science to gossip about who was doing who in the math department (really), where sometime each Friday a bottle of wine (or two) would appear in the coffee lounge fridge so that when people started to gather around 3 or 4 in the afternoon there’d be something for us all to drink. Of course, when the wine was done it was time to go for dinner. I never had the money, but sometimes someone else had enough spare money to invite me along.

I often say that Coffee Lounge 101 was my most important subject. In that room I learned more about computer science than in any other single class, and everything about what it was to be a computer scientist.

It was also a place that let undergrads teach labs. I taught my first CS lab when I was a second year student. This was a monumental thing for me. I was always one of those girls who was painfully shy in front of crowds – any time I had to give a lab report in biology, I would stutter, my hands would shake, my face got all read and my eyes would start to water. It was awful! And that was when I was allowed to sit at my lab bench and only had to present my report to 5 other people. All of a sudden here are people who think I can teach a class! I’m sure their confidence in me had a lot to do with my ultimately becoming a CS instructor, but for the time being I tried to remember that even though I didn’t know much, I DID know more than the people in the lab I was teaching, and I would do what I could to help them learn what I knew.

I’ve heard it said that the best way to learn something is to teach it.

I ended up finishing two degrees in CS and teaching as an instructor in the same department. My years as an undergrad and grad student there were terrific years and I spent 23 years trying to share that.

(I’ll post more on the culture of the department later. It’s an important part of what drew me into CS. Besides, it’s just too good a picture to let vanish into history, especially since that same department now isn’t even a cheap imitation of what it once was.)

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