Crisis of Infinite Confidence

Posted July 6, 2023 By Dave Thomer

(Note: I wrote this post two years ago, in the summer of 2021, and then hemmed and hawed about whether I wanted to try to commit myself to more active blogging. Now in the summer of 2023, as I look at what’s happening in the world of social media, I feel like I should re-stake my claim to a corner of the Web. So I re-read this and discovered that it’s still a pretty accurate framing of my general outlook. I feel like we may be inching in a positive direction, but in a very two-steps-forward-one-step-back kind of way. But that’s a topic for future posts.)

I am quite sure I am not alone in being rather exhausted in this summer of 2021. I am, relatively speaking, very lucky. I know a few people who had COVID, but they recovered. My wife and I both kept our jobs and my daughter was able to come home and attend her college classes virtually. But even acknowledging that good fortune, I have felt worn out, and struggled to make as much progress as I wanted on any number of projects. After spending entirely too long staring into space and thinking about what I would write if I could get myself to write something, I think I have zeroed in on a major factor.

I am trying to work through a major crisis of confidence. The big picture ideas that motivated me through my 20s and 30s feel battered and frayed, and I don’t trust the compass that’s supposed to guide me as much as I used to. I don’t know whether I can repair the foundation, or build a new one, or just let myself sink into a “whatever-gets-me-through-the-day” cynicism. (That last option is the one I’m really trying to avoid, but that depends on making one of the first two work.)

I should probably recap those big picture ideas for the sake of anyone who hasn’t read all the pages of this long-dormant blog. I spent my 20s earning a PhD in philosophy, studying the democratic theory embedded in the philosophical school of pragmatism. What I eventually came up with in my dissertation is the idea that a real thriving democracy would be a community of citizens, working together to identify problems and figure out how to solve them based on a process of trial and error. This community would be able to learn from its mistakes and incorporate the different perspectives of its members, and while it would never be perfect, it could make progress through a better understanding of how the world worked.

I figured one way that I could contribute to moving the US closer to becoming this kind of thriving democracy would be to teach high school students, to help them actively engage with the world. So after the dissertation was done, I went back to school to get certified, and I’ve been teaching high school for the last 12 years. And that part has been absolutely as rewarding as I hoped it would be. I absolutely love working with high school students and seeing what they create. The problem has been in my ability to imagine the world that I’m helping them prepare for, and to do so from a perspective of hope and optimism that we can build a better future.

The first crack in my foundation actually happened while I was building it, during grad school. I took a political science seminar about how possible it is to identify what the people want and, if you can identify it, get the government to do it. It was a great seminar, and it’s where I read the book Stealth Democracy. The central thesis of the book is that most people do not want to spend a lot of time or effort on the work of politics. At most, they want to hire people to do that work, and for those people to go do their jobs, leave them alone, and not rip them off. So there’s a pretty substantial gap between my engaged democratic community and where we are today. I knew that, and I told myself that this was the sort of change that would take time to make happen.

Then I had to wrestle with my faith in empiricism. Now, I had never believed in anything like the infallibility of scientists, but I had a certain amount of faith in the knowledge-building structures of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Then the replication crisis in social science hit. Studies whose results had been widely shared and accepted were re-examined – and found to be unreliable. This hit hard because a functioning system of creating and testing knowledge is essential to making any kind of community decision-making process based on empiricism work, and suddenly that system seemed far less reliable. I had shared some of the studies and theories that have since been questioned with my students – things like the marshmallow test and the theory of finite willpower, or the idea that the Stanford Prison Experiment shows how systems can foster abuse. It was one thing to write in my dissertation that we have to be prepared to accept new evidence that our beliefs aren’t as justified as we thought, but it is still a bit of a punch in the gut to realize that not only may I have been wrong in the past, I probably helped spread those wrong ideas. On the one hand, welcome to being human. We all get knocked down, what matters is getting up again. (This is where my daughter cues up the montage from Captain Marvel.) On the other hand, getting knocked down still hurts like the dickens.

The scientific community is working on the replication crisis, though. There’s a real opportunity to make the system more robust. (We also need to work through the crisis in academia but I’m poking at enough rattlesnakes in this post as it is.) So even though the wind was in my face, I felt like I was getting somewhere. And then 2020 happened.

I don’t even know where to begin. Remember what I said about “a community of citizens, working together to identify problems and figure out how to solve them based on a process of trial and error?” Did the world look anything like that in 2020? The scientific and medical community got caught flat-footed on COVID. I still remember telling my students in February 2020 that experts were saying masks probably weren’t important. And while many scientists rallied and got their act together relatively quickly, I think a lot of people around the country and around the world were slow to catch up. I don’t know how much of the problem was the experts being unable to convince the public and how much was the public not wanting to be convinced. But even when it’s a matter of life and death, reaching an empirical consensus and then acting on it is a lot harder than I expected.

I don’t think these problems are insurmountable, but they’re hard. I feel like I’m seeing experts warn about so many dangers – the pandemic; political instability and democratic backsliding; economic inequality; climate change; the list goes on. It feels like we’re just smart enough to see the edge of the cliff coming up but not smart enough to hit the brakes. I don’t want to resign myself to driving over the edge. So I’m looking for the reasons to hope. Looking for the signs that we can, in fact, learn from our mistakes. And there are some signs, don’t get me wrong. The vaccines alone suggest that we may be as good at getting ourselves of trouble as we are at getting into trouble in the first place. But I really hope we don’t stop there. It would be great to get this midlife crisis of confidence out of the way by the end of the summer. (Note from 2023: Well, I didn’t say which summer, so hope springs eternal . . .)

        

Still Not Throwing Away My Shot, Gaps and All

Posted July 3, 2020 By Dave Thomer

As I write this, the film version of Hamilton is a few hours away from its premiere on Disney+. I have my Hamilton T shirt ready for viewing the show with my family, and I may watch it a second time tomorrow when at least two different Twitter viewing parties are set to happen. (As I post this, my family and I are a few minutes away from that first viewing.) I’ve been very fortunate to be able to see the show three times, including once with a group of Rush students as part of the Hamilton Education Program organized by the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. I have the original cast recording. I have the Mixtape. I have the “Weird Al” Yankovic Hamilton Polka. I am a serious hardcore Hamilton fanboy, is what I am trying to establish here.

I’m also an educator who teaches kids about history and government, and I have always felt an obligation to help my students reach an accurate and honest understanding of our nation’s history and the enduring scourges of racism and violent oppression that are as bound up with our founding as ideals of liberty and self-government. In this moment of 2020, I feel that obligation more strongly than ever.

So I have to ask myself, at a moment where many Americans are finally taking extra steps to confront hard truths about our past: “Is there a place in this moment for a fictionalized celebration of the United States’ founding?” Can I still put on that T shirt and sing along to “My Shot?” Can I feel good about the fact that I brought 50 high school students to see this show? That I’ve shown clips of it, displayed its logo in my classroom, and referred to it in my discussions?

My answer is still Yes, but thinking through the question has helped me see what other lenses I need to bring to bear in my classroom.

Before I explain, let me take a moment to review some of the criticisms that historians and other people have made of the show.

I have some quibbles with some of these criticisms. For example, based on the reading I have done, I think Alexander Hamilton was opposed to slavery – however, he did profit from his marriage into the Schuyler family, whose wealth was at least in part connected to slavery. I think that George Washington answering the line “Black and white soldiers wonder alike if this really means freedom” with “Not. Yet.” is an example of Lin-Manuel Miranda making the specter of slavery haunt our celebration of the founding, and I think that subtle approach is one that helps the audience get to the point of being able to hold positive and negative opinions of the framers at once. Maybe I shouldn’t hail that as major accomplishment in the second decade of the 21st Century, but I think that’s where we are.

But in a show where control of the narrative is a central theme, there is no denying that some people have been left out of the narrative. How can I be OK with that?

My answer is that no one story can tell everything that needs to be told. Every story, every explanation, is a series of choices about what to include and what to exclude, what to emphasize and what to downplay. And every story exists in a context and a relationship to other stories and other perspectives. If Hamilton were the only story told about the nation’s founding, or the only story told about Washington and Jefferson and Hamilton, then its fictionalizations and omissions would be crippling.

But Hamilton exists in a country that has centered and mythologized the framers for centuries. The juxtaposition of these familiar historical figures with contemporary musical styles, performed by a cast of varying ethnic and racial backgrounds, gives an audience enough of a sense of the familiar to feel comfortable and enough of a sense of the unexpected to encourage a re-evaluation of perspectives.

I first learned about Hamilton because I follow the journalist Chris Hayes on Twitter. Hayes is an old classmate and friend of Miranda’s who kept praising the show, and based on his tweets I could not figure out if it was a show about a rapper or a show about Alexander Hamilton. It took me a bit for the light bulb to go on that it was both. The act of the juxtaposition is an act of commentary itself. On one level, yes, Hamilton is a white-European-centric Great Man approach to history. But it also makes an audience that might be comfortable with that style of history think about who else has been part of that story all along.

But what about the mythmaking? The celebration of the pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps mentality (“I wrote my way out”) that Miranda sees in Hamilton, in himself, in his family’s story? Again, if that were the only story we tell about America, it’d be super dangerous. But while it is essential that we have stories that acknowledge the pain that European settlement caused, it is just as essential to recognize that many people of color, including Miranda, view the United States, or at least aspects of it, positively. And this country, for all its faults, is the collection of people who have made their lives here. We can regret and condemn the destructive actions that led to some of those people’s existences while also acknowledging and indeed celebrating that those people exist, and this country is theirs too, and that many are happy about the lives they have built in it (even though there is still lots of work to be done). Hamilton provides a window to do that, and at this moment of the 21st Century, I think that is one story – among many – that deserves to be told.

        

Argh

Posted March 18, 2020 By Dave Thomer

OK, so here’s another difference between a journal I write by hand and a blog I maintain online.

I don’t have to worry about the paper getting an update that makes me unable to actually edit my text.

There’s something about the latest version of WordPress that is making it impossible for me to format text or add links. I’m sure I can figure it out. I’m just not going to try to do it tonight. We’ll try again tomorrow.

        

In My Day, Blogs Were Called Journals

Posted March 17, 2020 By Dave Thomer

OK, it’s day three of renewed blogging and I’m going super eating-my-own-tail here, but there was a post I saw on Twitter last week about keeping journals during this period of isolation so that there’s a record of what it was like to actually live through it, rather than a sepia-tinged version in memory down the line. I thought that sounded like a good idea, and I had a journal that I bought but never used years ago sitting in my desk, so Sunday night I started writing about a page a day.

This makes me realize that my life is pretty boring, especially when I have to stay around the house all day.

It also makes me realize that my handwriting skills have atrophied somewhat and my hands cramp up way too easily. I used to be able to make it through at least a third of a blue book doing exams in college; now I’m ready to tap out by the end of that page.

So when I find some decent meditating and yoga resources this week and start using them, I better see if they have Hand Flexibility for Writers exercises anywhere. At least then, when the computers become sentient and wipe out mu digital footprint, there’ll be something in a basement for some future traveler to find. (If they can get past the other stuff in my basement.)

        

What Am I Doing?

Posted March 16, 2020 By Dave Thomer

So this is the official Day One of the New Normal of schools being closed. I’m still feeling my way around and trying to develop a routine.

I’ve decided that as long as I have any say over the matter, I am not worrying about doing anything with the expectation that it will be graded. I just have no way of knowing with confidence what every one of my students has the time and opportunity to access. I don’t know how well email and other electronic communication is going to help me give feedback and guidance. I feel queasy about grades under the best circumstances, and these sure aren’t the best circumstances.

That said, for people who are at home and would like some kind of academic activity, I’ve resolved that I’m going to make one post a day on Google Classroom. I’m going to spend a lot of this time trying to figure out what’s going on in the world and also improving my understanding of my subject material. So why not share that process with the students? I’ll share at least one article that I’ve read each day and the questions it raises in my mind. I might even “workshop” some assignments and share them to let students kick the tires.

I’ve been making video lectures for my AP Government class for years. I’m still not quite done. So I think I’ll take this time to write scripts for the last batch I need to do (until they redesign the course again). I used to record the lectures as a sort of stream of consciousness with my notes, but I got tired of watching myself pause to collect my thoughts along with my other verbal filler tics. At least I’ve learned how to turn my iPad into a TelePrompter. (The Pages app has a scrolling display feature.)

If this stretches on for as long as I think it will, I might have to get more ambitious. But for now, let’s all give ourselves time to settle into something that resembles a routine.

        

Now or Never

Posted March 15, 2020 By Dave Thomer

Well, if a global pandemic that shuts down schools and requires me to stay at home as much as possible doesn’t motivate me to start writing more, it’s time to say that my days of writing anything beyond snappy social media posts are over. So we’ll see where this goes.

I’ve had a lot of ideas in my head for things I would write if I had the time and the energy. The energy is the thing, really, even more than the time. That, and the guilty feeling that there was something I needed to be doing more than writing something for a blog I started almost twenty years ago.

I had not done the math on that until I just typed it. Good heavens, I started this website almost half a lifetime ago.

Anyway, while honesty demands that I admit that I am going to play more than a few games of Civilization V during this hiatus, I am also going to try to use this time to reset some of my routines. I’ve talked about doing this before. Let’s see where it goes.

        

A Man, The Ram, and a Plan

Posted November 29, 2018 By Dave Thomer

I’m a little nervous posting this, considering that you could say I’ve been working on it for the last 25 years. Of course, even with that much lead time, I’m still up against the last minute. So I have consistency going for me, at least.

Set the Wayback Machine for 1993. I’m eagerly looking forward to the start of my freshman year at Fordham. One day I receive a stuffed manila envelope with a copy of the mammoth 75th anniversary issue of The Ram, one of Fordham’s campus newspapers and the one I’ve already set my sights on joining. Page after page is filled with recollections from former editors; fond remembrances of the stories they covered, the hours they worked, the setbacks they overcame, and the relationships they formed. I read the thing cover to cover, more than once. It looks like such a grand undertaking. I can’t wait to be a part of it.

Read the remainder of this entry »

        

Hermione Granger’s Song

Posted July 2, 2018 By Dave Thomer

So in the time I was not writing on this blog my entire family became well and truly obsessed with Hamilton: An American Musical, which I will be happy to discuss in more detail at another time. As a Philadelphian, I think I am required by law to enjoy “Ben Franklin’s Song” by The Decemberists, from the Hamildrops series of music related to the musical.

Meanwhile, my daughter is a major fan of J.K. Rowling’s Wizarding World and most certainly of Hermione Granger. One morning as I was still trying to wake up and she was getting ready for school, I overheard something to the effect of “something something Hermione f’ing Granger,” which my brain superimposed onto the aforementioned song.

And at that point, my mission became clear. This was the result. (Spoilers for all seven books, if you’re still waiting to read them. Go ahead and come back when you’re done.)

Hermione Granger’s Song
Inspired by Ben Franklin’s Song by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Colin Meloy

“Wingardium”
Now you can all lift some
Feathers or brooms and you won’t sound dumb
There’s no need to thank me – you are welcome.
You’re welcome for pronunciation.

I found out that the basilisk you don’t wanna see
Got myself frozen but my friends restored me
They had wands
They had swords
Found a diary
Led to my resuscitation

Well do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
I’m McGonagle’s time-turner wearing
Hermione fracking Granger

Early to bed, witches, early to rise
See Victor Krum play for a Quidditch prize
But then the Dark Mark appears
In the night time sky
Soon Voldemort’s back for a fight.

Old Umbridge sets rules but we can not comply
Ask Harry to train us all on the sly
I stay up late to study; OWL exams are nigh
Soon Voldemort’s back for a fight.

Well do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
I am muggle born but any spell will I cast
Hermione fracking Granger

Horcruxes are out there
Riddle’s soul is inside
Dumbledore tried to find one
But R A Black lied
We watched as he down from the tower fell
Dumbledore died
This time, no resuscitation

So I play my poor fugitive part with pride
Hiding out with a bag that is bigger inside
With time all our fears become amplified
But I
Know that Hogwarts will be our destination

Well do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
I’m McGonagle’s time-turner wearing Hermione fracking Granger
Do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
Do you know who the frak I am?
I’m McGonagle’s time-turner wearing,
multiple-extra-course taking,
but still Divination hating
Hermione fracking Granger

        

What Is This Blog You Speak Of?

Posted July 1, 2018 By Dave Thomer

Boy, have I left this barren.

It’s interesting. In my teens and 20s, I thought of myself as a writer. And when I read or listened to professional writers speak, they often talked about this idea that they became writers because they couldn’t NOT write. I thought I had that same need. It carried me through high school and college, through essays and theses and newspaper articles. It carried me through grad school, when I started the website that evolved into this blog and wrote my dissertation.

And somewhere along the way, it faded.

I still like putting words together, but for a long time putting together a decent joke or anecdote on social media has been enough to scratch that itch. About a year and a half ago I was talking to a colleague, who’s an artist along with a teacher. I urged him to keep drawing, because that’s where his heart was, the thing he really loved. And I realized that for me, writing wasn’t that thing anymore.

Teaching kids, and being part of a school community, is that thing. I’m not me if I’m not in a classroom. Or at least thinking about being in a classroom.

And for the past two years I have been doing so much of that, that the energy to put something else together has just kind of fizzled.

With the summer here I am kinda doing the New Year’s Resolution thing and trying to get into shape, mentally and physically, so I’m better at all of the things I need to do. Daily writing and reflecting is a mental muscle that I think I want to spend more time working on. Facebook probably isn’t the place to do it for a host of reasons. So let’s see if I can get back into the saddle.

        

EduCon 2017: Simulations (or: The Good Parts Version)

Posted January 29, 2017 By Dave Thomer

I’ll be making my presentation on simulation activities at EduCon shortly.

Here are a few links that may be useful.