Induction and Occam's Razor

When you make an inductive argument or you encounter one, what method do you use to decide whether to believe the conclusion it draws? This process of winnowing the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, happens automatically  when we walk to the store or cook our dinner. 

But when you need to assess two chains of inductive reasoning, each of which was produced by a reputable thinker and contain contradictory conclusions, the process of assessing the principles that both arguments employ becomes more important.

Generally, what inductive arguments are trying to accomplish is provide the best explanation for a certain data set. The data set could come from any academic discipline; it could come from our personal experiences of the world..

This data set could be statistical in nature e.g., American men between the ages of 45-49 suffer 28% more heart attacks than Japanese men between the ages of 45-49; it could be sensory in nature--sensory in many different respects, for example, during a trial a jury might here the following piece of data delivered by a defense attorney., "On the night in question, three independent witnesses testified under oath that they saw John Doe at the party when the crime was committed." Likewise, for a scientist, sensory data generated from an experiment needs to be explained: "Over the past five years, during my research in Madagascar on the ring tailed lemur, I have observed a decline in the number offspring produced each mating season."

The data set does not need to be what we might typically think of as a data set. 

Our personal experiences include an endless series of observations that we interpret in an inductive way. When I look out my window in the morning and see snow on the ground, I, assuming I have no reason to doubt the reliability of my sense of sight will instantaneously explain that sensory data in terms of temperature, i.e., it's cold outside. 

Why do I conclude that it is cold outside before I actually go outside and feel the temperature? Well, because snow is, generally speaking, frozen rain. And rain is water. And water is subject to the laws of nature. More or less, one of these laws of nature, dictates that water freezes at a temperature that I know from past experience is "cold."

Now, from a meteorologist's point of view, the sensory data of snow on the ground might involve a much more complex physical process, but despite the added complexity of his explanation, seeing snow on the ground, he too will conclude: it's cold outside.

So, continuing with our example, we have this set of data: I look out my window and see snow on the ground. I explain, in a basic and narrow sense, this data with the following conclusion: "It is cold outside." It all seems fairly automatic, no? But now let's complicate things. 

Suppose you have a roommate who is science fiction fan, suppose he just read a science fiction novel about an alien invasion of earth. Suppose he, upon seeing you reach for your galoshes, says: "What are you doing that for?"

You slide your eyes askance, and tilt your head as if aiming a weapon. Since you've already had your morning coffee, you decide to spare his life. "Well, uhhh, it snowed last night and I don't want my feet to get cold on the way to class."

"It's not cold outside," your roommate assures you as he digs into his bowl of Lucky Charms with a fork.

"No?" Have the folks at General Mills started adding something extra to their cereals?Magically delicious, indeed! "There's snow on the ground. But it's not cold outside?"

"Actually that white stuff on the ground only looks like snow."

You feel your eye begin to itch. "Huh?" 

You roommate sets his bowl on the counter top in order to gain access to a vaster array of gestures. "My theory," he whispers in conspiratorial tones, "is that last night. While we slept. An alien race, maybe from Epsilon Eridani, maybe from Gliese 876, visited the planet earth. What you see out the window is the evidence of their visit."

"Evidence? Of their visit?"

"Like the litter campers leave in Jellystone National Park. And its definitely not cold but has a temperature consistent with the ashes of dying campfire."

You consider correcting his malapropism directly but opt to murmur your correction as you search for your chap stick, " I thought Ranger Smith executed litterers." 

At this point, your other roommate walks in. You can't help yourself. "Tell him. Let's see what Mike thinks about our competing explanations."

It might not seem like it at first but Mike must now perform a detailed evaluation of two competing explanations. The first explanation concludes that the snow on the ground outside is frozen water and that frozen water requires a certain temperature. That certain temperature is felt by human beings as "cold."  

The second explanation concludes that the snow on the ground, despite its appearances, is not actually snow. It is litter left by a race of super intelligent alien beings. He further concludes that this litter is not cold but warm.

Why do I classify these two explanations as being in competition with one another? Well, because they both explain the data set and neither one involves a contradiction. After all, the roommates's explanation is possible, if it weren't possible, in a basic sense of the word then all those sci-fi movies that people love would not be so riveting. Think about it--has there ever been a movie about a person discovering a square with three sides? 

So, even though it seems counterintuitive, both explanations do in fact explain the data set. In other words, each explanation offers an answer to the questions: What is the stuff I see outside my window? and What caused it to appear? 

Now let's get back to Occam's razor (just so you know Occam's razor is also known as the law of parsimony). Here's how The Shorter OED defines it: "the principle that in explaining a thing no more assumptions should be made than are necessary." 

Now what does this actually mean for those of us who must act in the real world? When we must decide whether or not to wear galoshes or sneakers, shorts or pants, a skull cap or a baseball cap?

It means that we should prefer the first explanation not the second one.

Now investing the time to count the number of assumptions a particular chain of inductive reasoning uses can be a tedious process--unless you happen to be a philosopher, in which case the activity is considered an ideal Friday night--but in the example above we don't need to be overly scrupulous.  Take the following assumption (in logic an assumption is an unstated premise)

Assumption #1: There exists a race of super intelligent aliens.

The first explanation does not require the truth of this assumption. The second explanation does require it. Thus, in regard to Occam's razor,  the first explanation is winning: 0-1. 

Assumption #2: There exists a race of super intelligent aliens from Gliese 876 and Epsilon Eridani.

Assumption # 2 is different from assumption # 1, you see that right? After all, #1 could be true and #2 could be false. Thus, in regard to Occam's razor, the first explanation extends its lead 0-2.

Assumption #3: There exists a race of super intelligent aliens that litter.

0-3

Assumption #4: There exists a race of super intelligent aliens whose litter has an uncanny resemblance to frozen water that English-speaking earthlings have connoted snow

0-4

Assumption # 5: There exists a race of super intelligent aliens who would travel a long distance through space time for the purpose to silently drop its litter on another planet. 

Assumption #5 is tough even for the Klingon faction to believe. I mean surely if aliens visit us one night, the ruckus will disrupt our sleep. 

0-5. 

Okay that's a sizable lead. At this stage in the contest, Jordan can grab a towel and ice his knees.  

Both explanations have assumptions, but the roommate's explanation requires more assumptions, none of which, and this is key, none of which have any evidence to support their truth.  Now, of course, we know that an absence of evidence is not, logically speaking, the same thing as evidence of absence.  Every one of the roommate's assumptions could be true--even #5--but simply unknown to those of us on earth. 

But whether or not the assumptions could true or false is not the issue. 

The issue, according to Occam's razor, is that in the present moment we have no evidence to support any of those assumptions. Thus, when we evaluate the two chains of reasoning, when we examine the suggested explanation for each one, Occam's razor, provides a way for us to judge which is better, which we should believe. Sometimes Occam's razor is interpreted as a measure of simplicity. Such a conceptualization has some merit. When we look at the above example, one way to explain our preference for the first explanation is say "It is just simpler."  

Writing Process Q & A with Dr. Melissa Ames

I cannot help but find the ways that people write fascinating. 

What is especially interesting to me is how different the writing process is for everyone. For example: a friend of mine writes his introduction last because he says that writing the introduction last is the only way that works for him.

I, on the other hand, have to write the introduction first. Actually, sometimes I cannot write anything until I think of a snazzy title (and will sit paralyzed staring at the computer until the perfect title comes to mind).

So, I'm always asking people about their writing process, mostly because I am always up for good writing tips - and partially because I'm a curious bird. This curiosity led me to interview a faculty member in the English Department at EIU, Dr. Melissa Ames. 

What follows is a brief bio of Dr. Ames and her interesting answers to my boring questions.

Melissa Ames is an Assistant Professor at Eastern Illinois University specializing in media studies, television scholarship, popular culture, and feminist theory.  She teaches courses in these fields, as well as in composition and English education.  

Her work has been published in a variety of anthologies and journals, ranging in topic from Television Study, New Media, and Fandom to American Literature and Feminist Art.  Her most recent publications include her books Time in Television Narrative:  Exploring Temporality in 21^st Century Programming (2012) and Women and Language:  Essays on Gendered Communication Across Media (2001); articles in The Journal of Popular Culture and The Journal of Dracula Studies; and chapters in Grace Under Pressure: Grey’s Anatomy Uncovered (2008), Writing the Digital Generation (2009), and Bitten by Twilight: Youth Culture, Media, and the Twilight Saga (2010).

1.  What is the first thing you do when you sit down to write? Do you use an outline?

It depends on the project really.  As a graduate student I was a bit OCD about my pre-writing process:  I used to create an outline and color code it with markers/highlighters (one color for the intro, one for the conclusion, and different colors for various body sections); I would then go through all my printed off articles or typed up notes and then either highlight accordingly or put a little colored mark at the top of the document to tell myself it was to be used in a certain section (or sections).

Since then I’ve relaxed quite a bit in this regard.  I still often craft an outline by hand (one that looks scarily like the traditional five paragraph one with an inverted triangle representing the intro and squares representing body paragraphs and a regular triangle representing the conclusion).  I now don’t always write from start to finish.  I usually start by cutting and pasting material/quotes from typed up notes into the various sections and then writing from there.  I’m not sure which way is better, but there are certainly days when I feel like I was a better writer back when I was a grad student, so maybe I should revisit my colored pens!

2.  When you are writing do you take advantage of peer review opportunities?

I do participate in informal peer review quite a bit.  I have a writing partner (a former peer at Wayne State University where I received my Ph.D.) who usually serves as my second set of eyes for solo projects (and by default she is the second set of eyes on other projects because we often publish works together).  

Another one of my regular reviewers is actually a former graduate student of mine who is working on her Ph.D. at Illinois State University.  I’ve found that it is extremely useful to have a few people who I feel comfortable exchanging work with because they can then come at my work from different directions.  (I also find it nice to have a set of friends who know my work intimately). And, of course, I participate in peer review in more formal capacities.  Most of the work I have published goes through a peer review process, and I have worked as a manuscript reviewer for various journals and presses.

3.  What projects are you currently working on?

I am currently revising an article on contemporary dystopian young adult literature.  I have been fascinated with the popularity this genre has found throughout the last decade (more so since the release of Susan Collins’s Hunger Games series), especially because it coincides with a string of publications bemoaning the civic illiteracy of the millennial generation (publications like Mark Bauerlein’s  The Dumbest Generation).  

Being that these YA novels are packed full of socio-political commentary, it seems inaccurate to attach labels like “apathetic” and “apolitical” to teens who obviously have some investment in these topics (even if that investment is not always manifested through direct political action).

My other two projects are book-length manuscripts.  The first, Watching (and Feeling) the 00s:  Television & Affect Theory during the First Decade of the 21^st Century, studies the televisual trends of the so-called 9/11 decade (2001-2011).  I read various genre developments as reactions to the cultural moment (e.g. the escapism of reality television; the anger displacement of infotainment programs like The Daily Show; the ways in which network dramas remediate the trauma of the 9/11 attacks through various fictional stories focused on salvation, rescue, revenge, and so forth).  This work is also interested in how the technological developments of this past decade changed the televisual landscape resulting in new viewing practices (e.g. how fantasy football has changed sports viewership or how interactive fan websites have begun driving the development of certain programs).

The second book project I am working on with my co-author, Sarah Burcon.  Our book is titled Mediating Female Identity through (St)ages:  Popular Culture Depictions of Mating, Marrying, Mothering, and Maturing.  In this piece we analyze how popular literature, television, and film are depicting (and influencing) various “stages” of female development in productive and problematic ways. 

We hope for this book to be a crossover item that can be read by academic and lay persons alike, and it’s been a lot of fun to write.  We have chapters on the effects of pregnancy self-help books, motherhood memoirs, Hollywood romantic comedies as instructional “how to” date films, depictions of Brides/Bridezillas, and portrayals of menopausal women.  My favorite chapter by far, however, is on the creation and use of the terms Cougar, Puma, and M.I.L.F. – how these words are used by others to label women and how women have appropriated them at times for their own means.

4.  The work that you do seems, at least to me, to be cutting edge and ground breaking...always on the pulse of what is going on right now. Would you consider that true?

I wouldn’t necessarily call my work cutting edge or ground-breaking.  Like any scholar I often am midway through a project only to find that someone else has made a similar argument before.  However, my work is usually timely. 

Being a popular culture scholar means that you have to strike while the iron is hot or else you miss the window where your work is relevant.  It also means that publication delays can be quite frustrating.  (Case in point:  I have an article coming out next year in the Journal of Popular Culture that I’m quite proud of… but it’s on ABC’s Lost – a show that went off the air in 2010).   My work on post-9/11 media also always seems to be a race against the clock because I’m constantly waiting for it to become passé.

As for why this all interests me, well, I find it fun to mix work with pleasure.  The joke I always make is that I get paid to watch TV.  I also find popular culture to be a great way to reach my students so from a pedagogical standpoint I think it is great that my research can inform my teaching. 

My feminist media work is important to me because I am very invested in following Susan Douglas’s call to “talk back” to media and I feel that my gender analyses of various films, books, and television shows is a way to accomplish that.  My post-9/11 work interests me because I fully believe that cultural events influence cultural production and since 9/11 has been touted as the day that “everything changed” I like using it as a watershed moment for my analyses.

5.   What is your philosophy in regards to teaching writing?

I’m not sure I have a specific philosophy any more when it comes to teaching writing but there are quite a few practices that I value. 

I believe that students need opportunities to write A LOT and that the only way one improves as a writer is with practice, practice, and more practice.  (And with that practice should come feedback, feedback, and more feedback). 

As such, I probably assign more essays than the average instructor.  In my composition classes students usually write 8-10 essays and create a writing portfolio.  I also believe in revision (hence the writing portfolio), but because of my desire to have students write so many different essays, I often only have time for them to do an intensive, directed revision of one or two essays during a term. 

I believe in peer review and conferences, but I’m always wanting both to be more productive than they are.  I also value non-traditional writing assignments, such as multigenre research essays. 

All of the above probably seems to conflict with some of my practices and overall reputation as a writing instructor.  I am not opposed to teaching students the components of the dreaded five-paragraph essay (as I feel it’s just one more tool for their toolbox and a fine starting point for writers with very little experience). 

I am known to be a very hard grader when it comes to writing (and specifically MLA documentation).  I feel that since I give so many writing assignments, I can afford to push students harder early in the semester so that they can grow. 

As for my reputation as an “MLA Nazi,” I’m not sure where that stems from, but I really believe in teaching students to attend to detail – not because MLA specifically will necessarily benefit them later in their education or careers but because the skills are transferable to some degree. 

For example, once a student understands the basics of MLA, he or she can usually transition well into other documentation styles like APA.  Also, a person used to consulting a manual and attending to the details of page layout and such will benefit when transitioning to careers where he or she might be expected to conform to company-specific communication formats.

6.  Has your writing process changed since you started teaching?

I’ve been teaching for a while now so it’s hard to say.  I wrote more for fun before I was a teacher.  (I wrote four young adult novels when I was a teenager and a lot of angst-filled poetry and journal entries as a twenty-something). 

If my writing process changed as a teacher, it wasn’t for any philosophical reason but more so because my time was so much more limited.  (Teaching is always my first priority, followed by service, so sometimes my own writing projects land on the back burner).   If teaching had any influence on my writing I’m afraid to say it was a negative one.  Because I assign so many assignments, I don’t read nearly as much as I would like to.  When I read less (academically or for pleasure), my writing (and general vocabulary) declines.  Also, I’ve often joked that after years of teaching high school my spelling has never been the same.  (I won a spelling bee in fifth grade, but after years of grading poorly proofread papers, I sometimes look up the spelling of words like “the”…  Okay, it’s not that bad but you get the idea).  Still, none of this really answers your question about “process” I suppose!

7.  What is the best advice you have ever received in regards to writing?

Well, I’m confusing the advice I received with a Nike ad but the sentiment is about the same:  “just do it.”  Studies have been done that prove that people who write daily no matter what write more than those who wait for opportunities to write in large chunks. 

My natural inclination is to do the latter – to wait for the stars and the moon to align (and for children to be silenced and/or not present) so that I can spend a large amount of time delving into a writing project – but I’ve learned that I do seem to write more when I can make sure I’m producing writing regularly. 

That’s the number one reason why I just started my own television blog –  http://smallscreenscholar.blogspot.com - to force myself to write something once a week for public consumption.  (This allows me to justify the hours I spend watching television, to reflect on shows that don’t fit into my current writing projects, and mostly to just experiment with tone and simply form writing habits that deviate from my natural instincts).

8.  If you could write your memoir what would you title it?

I actually want to return to my creative writing roots in the future, and I’ve often played with the idea of creating a memoir spun from the 26 diaries I have filled throughout my life.  Since the bulk of these were written during my teen and young adult years, I’ve often thought the most fitting title would be:  The Memoirs of Melodramatic Me.  (This is also because I have an embarrassing appreciation for alliteration).  

9. Where do you foresee the future of the college composition classroom heading?

Right now multimodal composition is something that just happens in some composition classrooms in small doses.  I think in the future as more and more writing is housed on the web and more communication is relayed through non-print media that multimodal composition will be increasingly important to integrate into traditional composition courses not as a simple add on but as a key component of the course.

  Special thank you to Dr. Ames for entertaining my questions and providing me with such fantastic responses.

Induction as Scientific Investigation: An Attempt

In my last post, I wrote about a certain kind of inductive argument. Appealing to the authority of a legitimate expert is a common way we construct arguments. All of us rely on this kind of argument to make decisions about all sorts of issues: who to vote for, which charity to contribute to, which movie to see, which book to read, which college to attend, and so on. 

For this post, I'm still going to write about inductive reasoning, but I'm going to connect it, as best as I can, to the scientific enterprise. You've probably heard of the Scientific Method before. When considered as a method of reasoning, the Scientific Method is an empirical form of inductive reasoning. 

A scientist's curiosity (I guess, given human history, an aspiring scientist's curiosity would be just as dynamic. After all, before Einstein won his Nobel Prize for Physics, he was a Swiss patent clerk wondering what would happen if a person were to travel at the speed of light.) is piqued. Suppose our wondering scientist works as a zoologist at Lincoln Park Zoo. 
"I wonder," the scientist might say to herself after watching a late-night showing of Stand by Me, "if non-human mammals can experience "friendship" either within their own species or outside of it?" (This was the subject of a recent episode of Nature.  If anyone is interested, here is the link: http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/animal-odd-couples/full-episode/8009/ 

The zoologist would then go beyond mere wondering. She would create a hypothesis and then create an experiment to test her hypothesis. In the Nature episode, the zoologist closely observed a troop of macaques and then would test their feces for a chemical, I think it was cortisol, that is released when a macaque experiences stress. Thus, there would be two fundamental sets of data for the zoologist to analyze. 

The behavior of the macaques, in particular behavior that indicated "friendship" would be one set of data. For example, macaques groom each other. Thus, grooming might indicate "trust" between two macaques. 

The level of cortisol would be the second set of data. 

Even before the zoologist examines her data sets, she has performed thousands of inductive reasoning chains. Most of these inductive reasoning chains involve the following basic structure:

X has happened repeatedly in the past, thus X will continue to happen in the future e.g.,

-In the past, the sun has always risen in the East; thus the sun will rise in the East tomorrow. 

-For the past 10,000 years , the tropical island (I think it was Costa Rica) that the macaques live on has not experienced a blizzard; thus, the tropical island that the macaques will not experience a blizzard during the zoologist's research 

-For the past 1000 years, most of the members of a troop of macaques in Costa Rica have not died simultaneously from natural causes; thus, most of the members of the troop of macaques she observes on a Monday will still be alive on Tuesday.
  
-For as long as macaques have inhabited Costa Rica, they have pooped. Thus, macaques will continue to poop in the future. 

-In the past, other scientific research has established beyond a reasonable doubt that cortisol is a chemical that is released by macaques when they experience stress; thus, in the future, when a macaque is experiencing stress, its body will release cortisol.

In the past, other scientific research has establish beyond a reasonable doubt that zoologist's can accurately measure the amount of cortisol in a macaques body, thus in the future, when a zoologist measures the amount of cortisol in a macaques' body it will be accurate. 

And so on.    

Once the two sets of data have been collected, it will carefully examined. The zoologist will see if a correlation exists between, say, lower levels of cortisol and number of grooming events. 

Suppose, for the sake of simplicity, there were a 100 macaques in the troop that our zoologist was observing. Suppose further that the 10 macaques that participated in the most grooming events had much lower levels of cortisol in their bodies.  Here the zoologist would produce an inference to explain the data. 

1. "During my observations of macaque troop #1, I observed 10,000 grooming events." 

2. "For the purposes of my experiment, each "grooming event" will be interpreted as indicating an episode of "monkey-trust" between two macaques."

3. "For the purpose of my experiment,  each episode of "monkey-trust" will be interpreted as indicating evidence for a macaque's ability to experience "monkey-friendship."

Assumption 1: "Experiencing less stress gives any mammal an evolutionary advantage to survive and procreate."

Assumption 2: "Monkey-friendship is analogous to human friendship in that it reduces the amount of stress the body produces."

Assumption 3: "If a pair of macaques experience "monkey-friendship," then that pair of macaques will each experience less stress than a macaque that does not experience "monkey-friendship."

Hypothesis 1: "If a pair of macaques experience "monkey-friendship," then each of those macaques will produce lower levels of cortisol than any macaque that does not experience "monkey-friendship." 

Hypothesis 2:"If hypothesis 1 is true, then macaques can experience friendship in a way analogous to the way that human's experience friendship."   

Conclusion: "The macaques that participated in the most "grooming events" had the lowest levels of cortisol, thus macaques do experience friendship analogously to humans."

Now here things may get a little confusing. In fact, this entire reasoning process as its stated above is deductive. If the premises and the assumptions and the hypothesis are all true, then the conclusion would also be true.

But every one of the premises and assumptions and hypothesis would itself rely on an inductive argument. For example, (2) simply stipulates that "grooming events" will be "interpreted" in a certain way. But why think that "grooming events" should be interpreted in this way? Well, by way of induction, a grooming event would seem to more consonant with an explanation that postulate "trust" than one that postulate "dominance," but no one can be sure this intuitive relationship actually holds.  

Thus, the beauty and the curse of inductive reasoning. 

To Error or Not to Error...

I am a reader of blogs.

Surely, in this day and age of blogginess, I am not alone in my love for them.

Currently, I am enamored with Garr Reynolds' Presentation Zen blog.

It speaks to me.

Each week Mr. Reynolds comes up with an interesting and enlightening post that immediately shakes me up - in a good way. His posts remind me that, much like my writing, I am a work in progress.

And we all need a swift kick/reminder of that once in awhile.

A lot of the scholarly work that I do is centered in Performance Theory. Having been an actor for many years of my life, I cannot help but notice performances in all aspects of day-to-day living.

So, naturally, when I came across Reynolds' blogpost entitled "Lessons in Engagement from the Flight of the Conchords," I was hooked. First of all, that group is hilarious. Second, "engagement" is quite possibly my most favorite word ever. And I'll tell you why:

Performers engage their audience. Having been a performer, I know this and feel qualified to tell you this.

Engagement is not an easy trick. However, for some people it comes naturally, and for others it is a struggle.

How does one accomplish the task of being engaging?

According to Reynolds, this is done by being human and he argues that being human means being imperfect.

Reynolds writes: "What makes some of the best speeches or presentations so memorable is not that they are perfect or slick, or overly polished, but that they are human. And to be human is to be imperfect. This is why so many of us are attracted to live musical performances. Studio recordings are fine, but there is a visceral human element that one gets from a live performnce."

My favorite part of that quote? He spelled performance wrong.

I'm not quite sure if he did it on purpose or not, but I cannot imagine a more perfect moment to do it.
Admittedly, many of my own papers are full of spelling errors - that I catch most of the time. However, once in awhile they slip by me.

And you know what? I think this is ok.

I admit that I'm a bit of an anti-grammarian. A statement that makes the ears of many of my most favorite professors bleed. And I'm okay with that (well, kind of. Ear bleeding sounds AWFUL).

My errors are what make my writing mine.

There is a pattern to my errors. For example, commas are going to kill me. I'm pretty sure of it.
I also have a tendency to commit run-on sentence crimes.

Do these errors make my writing any less engaging? No, if anything they make me appear more human, thus imperfect.  However, my errors can be distracting to those versed in the ways of grammar, and then the solid points I'm making run the risk of getting ignored.

It just comes down to the fact that I am faulty. And I'm pretty sure everyone else is too.
But how do I reconcile this in my writing? Because although I'm okay with my errors, many people reading my work are not.

Fact: I do not spend the amount of time that I probably should editing my work for grammatical errors. I have paid the price for this lack of editing many times.

 It's just that I am more concerned with my writing being clear and engaging - and I want to make sure that it sounds like ME.

After all, people are ultimately attracted to and want to learn about what you have to say and your particular point.

Also, it seems that when people read they want two things: to be entertained and to be educated.

I would like to think that educated would come first - but it seems that entertainment is what grabs a reader.

And if you can grab your reader and keep them engaged, then you have the opportunity to educate them.

If an article or essay is dry and appears as if a computer produced it, I won't read it. Simple as that.
It's sad and possibly a very telling fact about my personality.

But I don't think I'm the only person out there who thinks this way.

If a paper has grammatical errors but is engaging, will I read it? Yep. I might snicker a bit, but I'll read it.

Do I think that people should be out there writing papers loaded with grammatical errors and typos?

Absolutely not.

Why? Well, because in order for your work to be read...it has to appear as if it is worthy of being read.

Academia prefers the language and writing of white-upper middle class people. Some people don't recognize this, or they possibly don't want to admit it. Sadly, if you don't write this way, you better figure out how to ... or you will not make it through school nor will your work be read.

This is a disappointing fact and a fact that I do not agree with.

So, my advice to people working to write in their own way while adhering to grammatical guidelines and institutional rules is this: think of your writing as drama. In drama there usually are many different characters or people with different identities. Your identity is not singular or fixed, so why should your writing be that way?

According to screenwriter Syd Fields: "All drama is conflict. Without conflict, you have no action; without action, you have no character; without character, you have no story; and without story, you have no screenplay."

Think of your paper as drama. Your little drama is going to experience conflict -- either with a professor or peer reviewer. If you did not have this conflict, you would have no action ... meaning no revision or acceptance. Revision gives you the opportunity to develop your writing, thus develop your character. And no revision means you have no or have an underdeveloped character. Without character your writing is without a strong message ... and if you don't have a strong message, you don't have a good paper.

If you do not have a strong message, there is no way that your paper is engaging.
If your paper isn't engaging, it probably won't be read. And guess what else?
If your paper has grammatical errors, it might suffer the same fate.

Goodness. This is getting tragic.

Well, does anyone out there think that errors are okay?

Yes! According to Mike Rose, who is AMAZING, "...we should welcome certain kinds of errors, make allowance for them in the curricula we develop, analyze rather than simply criticize them. Error marks the place where education begins" (189).

Our errors, painful and annoying (and sometimes ignored) as they may be, are important.

Don't be afraid of your errors! Embrace them! They provide you with moments to improve your already mad skilz.  Fixing your error does not mean that you are losing your voice or becoming any less engaging. It means that you are taking the time to make sure that you are functioning on all cylinders.

Fixing your errors also means that you are aware that you are imperfect - and by acknowledging your imperfection you embrace your humanity.

You should probably listen to this while doing all of that error embracing.

Critical Thinking: Batman vs Spiderman

Critical thinking is the gem that every teacher looks for in a student paper, and for many students this is the largest hurdle to overcome.

If we look at critical thinking as defined by the National Council for Critical Thinking, then it "is the intellectually disciplined process of actively and skillfully conceptualizing, applying, analyzing, synthesizing, and/or evaluating information gathered from, or generated by observation, experience, reflection, reasoning, or communication, as a guide to belief and action."

Sounds tough, right!

Actually, it isn't all that difficult.

For example: "Is Batman tougher than Spiderman?" is a question that can spawn a lively debate between two critically thinking adolescent boys.

Batman has the cool cars and gadgets, but Spiderman has the superhuman strength. Spiderman has those cool Spidey web-shooters, but Batman has the cooler, more intimidating suit.

Who will win? Check out the youtube video above to find the answer to this age old problem:

Beyond the playground debates, like the example above, this type of skillful analysis is what teachers look for in students' papers.

It is actually the best part of writing papers when done thoroughly. Critical thinking not only provides a student with an introduction, body and conclusion for a class paper, but it also provides an opportunity to ask oneself those tough questions that just don't come up in our mundane routines.

For example, if a teacher assigns an argumentative essay asking students to choose between the superpower of flight or invisibility, then students have many questions and avenues to consider.

In order to make an educated choice, we will need to consider and discuss the parameters of each power. Then students will have to consider what actions the powers will enable them to perform. After mulling over these details, we will need to consider our own values in order to make a suitable match to the superpower.

After-all, we do not want to get a decision of this magnitude wrong and then have major regrets!

The same goes for more conventional essay topics. Topics like gun-control, the legalization of gay-marriage, or the separation of church and state. These are the topics we must take seriously, and discuss as thoroughly as possible in our essays.

Critical thinking is how we learn, develop our own ideas, and essentially become the superheroes we  want to be.  It is also our superpower to writing successful essays.

Induction and Writing Papers

In my previous blog post, I made a sincere, if imperfect, effort to draw some basic distinctions between deductive and inductive reasoning. Although deductive reasoning is an essential part of our cognitive framework, much of the reasoning we do when we write essays or research papers is inductive. A key part of completing many writing assignments, not to mention an infinite number of non-writing tasks, is to generate and defend conclusions based on the words or the testimony of an expert. 

Obviously, the concept of "expertise" is complex. When does a person become an expert in some field? How do we decide when to bestow that title on an "expert?"

To give an example of this complexity, consider the legal career of Thurgood Marshall. I would imagine that most people presume that a lawyer is an expert on the law because of the education that he completed. Colloquially speaking, the concept of "education" would basically reduce to the following two questions: 

"When did you graduate from law school?" 
"What law school did you graduate from?" 

Thurgood Marshall earned his Juris Doctor from Howard University Law School in 1933, graduating first in his class. He then went on to become the first African American appointed to The United States Supreme Court. It's an impressive resume, isn't it?

While every lawyer doesn't have such a sterling profile, most of us assume that a person who earns a Juris Doctor degree from an American Bar Association accredited law school is an "expert" about, if not the entire American Legal Code, then at least some particular aspect of it. One lawyer could be an expert on the criminal legal code; another lawyer could be an expert on the U.S. Constitution. Thurgood Marshall, being a Supreme Court justice, would be an expert on both the criminal legal code and on the U.S. Constitution.  

The point is that if I'm writing an essay in my composition class about the FCC and its policies toward censoring the f-word on the public airwaves, I would, if he were still alive, ask Thurgood Marshall for his assessment of the issue. The answers he articulates for me would provide a well-forged link in my reasoning chain. The link would be well-forged because, as an expert in the U.S. Constitution, Thurgood Marshall  would have knowledge about it that can trusted by all reasonable non-legal experts.

My reasoning chain might be constructed in the following way:

1. Some people believe that XYZ is true about the First Amendment 
2. Thurgood Marshall  believes that X is true and Y is true about the First Amendment, but he disputes that Z is true.
3. Thurgood Marshall is an expert about the First Amendment.
4. Thus, I have a good reason to doubt the truth of Z. 
 
In the same way that a lawyer is an expert on certain legal topics, someone with a Ph.D. in particular academic discipline would be an expert in that discipline. This is why many of your professors want you to consider the author of text when you look for research sources. The author of a book or the author of a peer reviewed academic journal probably has a Ph.D. in a particular field thus we can justifiably assume that he/she is an expert in that field. Appealing to that expert's authority to justify a conclusion is an acceptable way to construct a chain of reasoning. 

Complexity will almost always arise when you write a paper. For example, what happens when two experts disagree? When experts disagree, it actually allows you to carefully consider each person's position and then ask yourself which one is the more cogent. If you're writing a paper about Psychology, obviously the research (its methodology, for example) would be a good place to consider which expert you find more persuasive.

Of course, there are ways for a person to achieve expertise in a particular discipline without earning an advanced degree. For example, while a person could become an expert in journalism by earning a Ph.D in Journalism, there are many professional journalists who attain expertise on a topic by carefully researching a topic as an employee for a news organization like The New York Times or PBS.    

If a journalist from The New York Times  spends six months writing a series of feature length articles about the pros and cons of hydraulic fracking, many of us would justifiably consider that journalist, if not an "expert," then certainly someone who's opinion about hydraulic fracking is more informed, more nuanced than, say, the owner of my local Seven Eleven. 

The journalist's stories become reliable sources because of the expertise he/she has achieved.  When you write an argumentative paper, you might appeal to the journalist's authority about hydraulic fracking to make your case. When you appeal to a relevant authority in an argument, you are arguing inductively.   

All this talk about becoming an expert or achieving an expertise is relevant because most of our inductive arguments rely on the authority of experts. Much of the article by the journalist in The New York Times  will be quotes and paraphrases from experts in geology and petroleum engineering. The article will also probably include the testimony from people who've been deeply affected by agreeing to lease their land to a natural gas drilling company.  

In this sense, whatever the journalist concludes, his/her reasoning will be inductive in nature. 

Defeating My Arch Nemesis: Using Writing to Learn Math

When I was in first grade, a skinny six-year old sporting long piggy tails and buck teeth, I quickly learned that math was very hard for me.  Longingly I watched my friends go out for recess while I sat inside and attempted to fix the math problems I had done incorrectly earlier. I just couldn't do them right.

And when I couldn't do them right, my teacher would sit me in the corner. Humiliating. I was the girl constantly in tears in the corner, and the cute boy in class (who was a math whiz) thought I was some sort of weirdo (which I am....but still).

The experience created an instant mental math block that I have fought  my entire life. The rest of my grade school career was bleak in the math department, and I have to admit that I never passed a high school Algebra class.

When I started my college career at Parkland College, back in the mid-90s, I had to take basic math. I was not surprised and slowly worked my way up to beginning Algebra. The first day of my college Algebra class sent me into nervous fits. I felt like my six-year old self, only with straighter teeth and shorter hair.

I was determined to do better, and I only wanted to take this class one time. Due to the fact that I came from a large family with not so large of an income, it was up to me to pay for my schooling, and I knew that I did not want to pay to re-take an Algebra class. So, I had resolved to work my butt off and figure this whole math thing out even if it caused my hair to go prematurely gray.

I walked up to my professor before class, wish I could remember her name because she changed my life, and told her of my math woes. She smiled and nodded and asked me what my interests were. At the time my interests circulated around my boyfriend (so stupid!), but I managed to say something like, "Well, I really like English and Theater." She then told me that she had some tricks up her sleeves that could help me with my struggles, and we started class.

Well, I didn't believe her.

I had been told, by many teachers and tutors, that they knew exactly what to do to "fix" me and cure me of my math ignorance. So naturally I just took a deep breath preparing to weather the storm.

After my professor had handed out the syllabus, explained the schedule, and let us introduce ourselves, she dismissed the class for the day--then quickly asked me to stay for a few minutes. She told me that I would need a separate notebook for the class that would become my Algebra Writing log.  I looked at her like she was crazy.

She laughed.

"Kelly, have you ever done journal entry work in your writing or English classes?" she asked. I nodded yes and told her that journaling was one of my favorite things to do.  She then told me that I would be doing this for my homework and in-class activities.  My professor took out a notebook and showed me exactly what I would be writing in my log--it looked something like this:

• Date
• Topic or Chapter/Assignment Name
• Description of pages read in textbook, lecture notes, and in-class activity notes
• Main points from the section being assigned in a bullet point list
• Summary of main points from book/class written in paragraph form

Not only did she have me do this weekly math log, but she also assigned me paragraphs to write.  My professor would write an equation on the board each week, usually on Monday, and by Friday a paragraph was due to her that explained how to solve the problem and why I had decided to solve it in that way. 

I was kind of shocked that I was using writing do help me understand math.  I had never thought that "math" people wrote. In the article "Writing to Learn Mathematics" Bernadette Russek says, "Contrary to popular belief mathematicians must write and must write well...Writing is a valuable assessment tool. It is used to assess attitudes and beliefs, mathematics ability, and ability to express ideas clearly" (36).  Russek also suggests that writing is often used in the math department to "...open doors of communication with students who may have math anxiety or who have 'I hate math' feelings, students who have never really 'spoken' to their mathematics professors before" (36). 

I feel as if Russek might have been directing that last bit directly at me....

Thanks to my professor's willingness to use writing in the math classroom, I passed beginning Algebra with an A. The first A I had ever received in a math class my entire life. I'm still proud of that A.

I moved onward and upward and eventually managed to tackle a college Algebra class. I did not get another A, but I did get a B, and I was able to mark math off of the list of classes I needed to take to finish school.

I really, really, really wanted to take my passing math grades to my former first grade teacher and say, "HA! Take that! See! If you would have just been willing to teach me math in a language I understood, instead of sitting me in a corner, I would have been done with this a LONG TIME AGO."

I wisely did not do that, but man did I ever dream of it.

After I completed my general education requirements, I thought that I would never have to take a math class again. However, my children have proved me wrong (as they usually do), and I find myself helping them with their math homework. Unfortunately, my kids also struggle with math and I sometimes feel as if maybe I should not be the person helping them. 

It's kind of like the blind leading the blind.  So, we write about math. Each day we write out their assignment in paragraph form and then we talk about it and pretty soon those math problems are getting solved correctly. 

If you would like to read the rest of Bernadette Russek's article it can be found here.  As Writing Across the Curriculum becomes more prominent on college campuses and within K-12 curriculum, I'm sure that writing in the math class will be used more often.

EIU President William Perry has used writing in his math classroom, and in an April 2011 interview with the EIU Writes Blog writers (found here) Perry said that: "...mathematics has a language all its own, you all know; you’ve taken math, so you do a math homework; it’s one set of language. But now if you’re going to talk about how that relates to maybe football head injuries or supply and demand, you know these kind of things, you have to interpolate that for your audience. You have to convert mathematical concepts to plain English, and so that’s a valid exercise because I think in all of our lives, we’re always interacting with multiple audiences." 

To me multiple audiences means multiples discourses, which then equals various types of verbal and cultural languages. In a perfect world teachers will be able to teach in a method that answers the needs of all of their students, but that perfect world is more than likely not going to happen in my lifetime.

So, instead of waiting for that perfect world to arrive, try remembering the skinny little six-year old sitting in the corner of her first grade classroom. Don't be afraid to speak to students in languages they understand--even if that means writing in a math classroom.

Don't Snooki Around with Grammar

The youtube video above is a clear representation of how celebrities are subject to the same grammar judgments all of us are vulnerable to.

Many of us frequently use one of the many social media sites available to us, and we are subject to criticisms about our grammar, which is typically focused on what people call usage errors. That means that now, more than ever, we should be aware of our writing etiquette.

At any given time, people from all over the world can make instant judgments of our intelligence from merely glancing at a tweet. A poorly written Facebook status can cause massive amounts of critical comments written in all caps. Likewise, a simple grammar mistake on a dating site profile can have horrible consequences.

This public shame should be seen as a huge internal motivator for correcting our grammar.

The first step to avoid these embarrassing types of errors is by valuing language. As Hank says in the video, we have to "care about the quality of discourse in our society." By doing so, we will not only improve our individual reputations, but our social media discourse as well.

These are the important skills we learn in writing classes and classes where strong written communication is highly valued and supported. All we have to do is transfer these grammatical and stylistic lessons from the classroom into everyday use.

For example, proofreading and editing are skills that can be applied to even the smallest post, say even one less than 140 characters, before hitting "Post."

Awareness is crucial to our media reputation.

Using strong proofreading and editing skills in our attempts to communicate on social sites, paired with a consideration of our audience, purpose, and subject will not only improve our reputation and our credibility, but it will also improve our social media discourse.

I'm not suggesting we remove the culture, creativity, or the fun out of social media communication. What I am suggesting is that we value clarity and integrity in our social discourse.

So, let's not Snooki-around with our grammar. Let's consider our language quality!