Posts Tagged ‘technology’

It’s Not What You Say

Friday, August 27th, 2010

Although I have always believed this, I was still shocked to hear the following statistic at our first faculty meeting of the year.  When you communicate with another person, here is how they interpret your message:

Words: 7 %

Tone and inflections: 38 %

Body language: 55 %

It makes sense, really.  Our principal used this statistic as the basis for our new communication policy at school, and I think it’s a good communication policy for just about anyone’s school, business or life:

Words: this is e-mail and text messaging.  Since it’s just words, it should be relegated to the simple relaying of information: “I’ll meet you at 4 PM” or “Here’s the outline for the next chapter.”  The minute the exchange becomes more complex, it should move to a more personal level.

Tone and inflections: phone calls.  Most minor negotiations and problems can be resolved this way.  “Why did my daughter get a zero for this assignment?”  “How can I get my son to practice more regularly?” “Let’s work out a time to get together.”  There’s something so much more personal about the sound of a spoken voice: it can nip a lot of misunderstandings in the bud.

Body language: face-to-face meetings.  For anything important, whether a job interview (yes, they do take place over the phone, but it’s rare) or catching up with an old friend.  Taking the time to sit down with someone shows you care enough to give them your full attention.  This is how we run our classes, and it should be how we run our lives, too.

I take a lot of flack for staying away from Facebook and chat rooms and even my own cell phone, which I would prefer to be without.  But I take pride in knowing that I can give someone my full attention, my full presence, whether it’s a client, student, or friend.  I was at a party this week where I saw a man find out his wife was pregnant via text.  Can you imagine?!  No, thank you.  I want my relationships real.

A Tip for Musicians in Paris

Thursday, July 15th, 2010

Sorry for the long silence, everyone – we went away for the weekend and came back to find our Internet service had stopped working.  Troubleshooting with multiple phone companies is exactly the barrel of laughs you might have expected.  Cavalier, in particular, has lived up to its name with depressing irony.  So my next few posts are leftovers that never got published before the Great Internet Debacle . . .

For a music teacher, I live a remarkably music-free life.  Aside from the hours I spend in instruction and performance in my studio and church, I rarely listen or play much on my own.  I’m not sure why.  I think it began after I moved back home from New York; I found I had heard enough noise there to last through a very  extended silence, and I didn’t miss music even on long car trips and at home by myself.  Over the years I came to enjoy it again, but my laziness usually wins out: it takes effort, even the smallest sort, to put something on while I’m otherwise occupied.

[Aside: The other thing is that, as a visual learner, I cannot abide clutter in any form, and music feels like clutter unless I am focusing solely on it. I really do enjoy my students’ playing (and my own, when I can carve out some time for it) but it’s because it’s the only noise around.  Even a wiggly or talkative sibling in the room can ruin a lesson for me.  In the car, if I’m driving, I focus so much on the music that I’m afraid I won’t be able to pay attention; my last speeding ticket, several years ago, was the result of a rare trip with the radio on.  And my biggest complaint is to restaurants that blare a soundtrack so distracting I can’t converse.  Even sidewalk cafes feel the need to wire the outdoors so that you can’t possibly enjoy a moment of silence, save the tinkling of glasses and forks and the ocean’s swell of human voices enjoying each other's company.]

All of this is to say that it’s shocking and saddening how often I forget what music really means to me.  So it was an unexpected and memorable surprise to discover the Cite de la Musique at the Parc de la Villete one afternoon during our trip.  I wandered in to pass the time while the students were sketching in the park; I ended up staying long after everyone else had left, exiting only reluctantly when it closed.

(The Parc de la Villette, of course, is the sprawling complex of museums, lawns, and carnival rides that turned a seedy area into a bustling family-friendly mecca.  It’s punctuated with bright red follies that are a fun, lively, challenging example of deconstructivism, and I may have just a tiny crush on the architect. A tiny one.)

Though my French is pretty good (and was at its peak after nearly two weeks of constant practice) I most appreciated that the museum was set up multilingually.  An audio guide is included in the admission price – an unobtrusive pair of headphones wired to an iPod-sized device that hangs from your neck or handbag.  Throughout the museum, there are short audio samples – instrument demonstrations and soundtracks to accompany the videos on the screens throughout.  You just enter the number that accompanies the headphones symbol next to the exhibit you want to learn about.  And there are literally hundreds of them – everything from historical background to critique and performance.  I wandered through the displays of instruments –grouped by period, family and geographical location – in awe.  It was an amazing experience.  Here are a few of my favorite photos:

A huge bell – taller than me.  Probably a good thing this one was behind glass; it would have been really tempting to hit it with the clapper!

Intricate detailing inside a stringed instrument – a lute, I believe.

An antique wind instrument – much like a saxophone – with anthropomorphic tendencies.

One of the first keyboard instruments; clavichord, I think (I should have taken notes!)  I thought it was interesting that the colors of the keys are now reversed.

A guitar with gorgeous inlay patterns.

My favorite!  I think this guy is some kind of recorder.  Love his toady face.

Part of a huge set of Asian instruments; I think she’s part of the side of a huge gong.

Obviously, for a musician, the Cite de la Musique is an imperative stop on your Paris journey!  I hope you get to see it someday.

Dislike

Friday, January 29th, 2010

One of the saddest things about the Internet is the fact that it’s fostered an age of instantaneous opinions.  Remember Am I Hot Or Not (which is now a dating / social networking site)?  My friends and I spent hours there, laughing our heads off; it’s ingeniously set up so that you can’t see more funny photos without making a judgment about the one in front of you.  Facebook’s “like” feature is similarly shallow, but requires even less effort; there’s only “Like” (no “Dislike” except in the passive sense, constituted by a lack of reponse.)

What does this do to people, over time?  We’ll probably never know, of course; our lives are sufficiently complex that it’s impossible to isolate one specific feature.  But yesterday, I started thinking about it when I got into a disagreement with a student about the article she wants to write for the school paper.  She had the brilliant idea of a food issue, in which all the writers would share recipes and review restaurants and food-themed movies and TV shows.  Everyone was on board, chattering excitedly and throwing around ideas.  For her article, she asked to review nice restaurants in the area, possible candidates for pre-Prom dinners and fancy dates.  I told her, great; make up a list.

She returned her list to me the next day: it consisted of five or six steakhouses in Baltimore.  Hmm.  I gently suggested she branch out a little: what about seafood, for which Baltimore is renowned?  No, she’d only been to one seafood restaurant and hadn’t liked it.  What about a Brazilian churrasceria or one of the venerable pasta houses in Little Italy?  She hadn’t been there either.  What about people who don’t eat meat?  “Well, there’s other things on the menu.”  I suggested she talk to some other people about good restaurants, but she didn’t want to do that in case they might be wrong.  Bottom line: she wanted to write an article consisting solely of restaurants she had been to and liked a lot.

I made an appointment with the guidance counselor to talk this through, since I felt a lot of hostility toward the mere suggestions I’d dared to make.  But after that, I started thinking about how all this “Like”ing might have affected her ability to see the bigger picture and consider, if not respect, the opinions of others.  My students aren’t even offended when I say, “Who cares what you think?”  They simply dismiss the thought.  Of course people care.  It’s their opinion, and opinions are interesting, especially their own.

TV-Free, Sort Of

Monday, December 14th, 2009

When my husband was in grade school, he remembers his teacher casually mentioning once that she didn’t own a television set.

“I was shocked,” he says. “I thought, so, what do you DO all day?”

Now he takes more than a little pride in mentioning the fact that we also don’t own a television.  When we got married, my parents generously gave us their old one, but we never used it except for movies.  I refused to pay for cable, something I saw as a downward spiral ending in hundreds of dollars a month, so we only got a few channels.  My sister used to watch the Ravens games, which she said were blurry but at an acceptable level.  We may have turned the news on once or twice during a hurricane.

When we purchased a new computer, we discovered the screen was almost as big as the television we owned, so we gave away the television.  We continue to watch movies.  But television has crept back in, thanks to the Internet, where almost every show can be found for free, via legal means or otherwise.

I’m not sure how I feel about it.  For awhile, we only watched LOST, which I still maintain is the best show I’ve seen in a long time (and maybe ever.)  We’d go over to our friends’ house (or, more recently, my parents’ house, after converting them one summer) and watch, discuss, rail at the lack of answers and the plethora of questions.  I liked the fact that watching television became a planned social event, not just something to do to pass the time.

But then I started watching a few shows out of curiosity, mostly to keep up with my students.  Is Grey’s Anatomy really that wretched?  (It’s worse.  You have no idea.)  Is Desperate Housewives that vapid?  (Likewise.)  Is Scrubs that funny?  (No, but according to many of my friends, I haven’t given it enough of a chance.)  Is the Office?  (A resounding YES!)  For some reason, I’ve become totally hooked on The Mentalist; it’s not a groundbreaking show, but it’s funny and dramatic and I’m interested in the psychological aspects of the protagonist’s investigative technique.

What I’m starting to realize, though, is that I’m getting more tolerant.  I’ll sit through stuff I never would have before.  Last summer we watched several seasons of Weeds, which was funny at times but really not very high-quality and certainly didn’t affirm the kind of values we have.  This year Rob’s been watching Flash Forward, and I notice that I usually end up paying more attention to the crossword puzzle or my pile of vocabulary quizzes than to the screen.  I don’t want that.

So yes, we don’t have a television.  And yes, I brought the subject up myself, but not so I could brag about it.  Because I think in the end, it doesn’t matter.  More and more people will be following the Biltons’ lead and ditching TV for . . . TV.  In a different form.  I thank thee, Father, that I am not like other men.

Boring Old Facts

Wednesday, November 25th, 2009

Rod finds a teacher* who agrees with me:

“They can crack the alphabetic code,” he said. “But they can’t stay focused and comprehend what they’ve read. And if they run into something that doesn’t seem right to them, they simply don’t believe it. I’m not talking about differences of opinion; I’m talking about facts. They don’t even form an argument against it, they just decide that it doesn’t feel true to them, so it must not be.”

Last weekend’s conference was saturated with quotes like this. My favorite was from a teacher who discussed 1984: it’s fantastically depressing, he said.  It’s about guilt and shame and lies and it’s awful.  I love it.  But I don’t care whether you love it.  It’s not about that.  It’s about the value of the novel.  What is the value in reading about surveillance, government?  If you can see value in it, your personal feelings about the book are really irrelevant.

Another teacher showed us all this cartoon.  There were a few scattered giggles, and then he asked us (about 200 in that session) honestly, if we’d “gotten it.”  About 25% raised their hands (I was not among them; although I did know who was in the cartoon, I didn’t get the football connection.)  The presenter explained that although we were all [presumably] intelligent and literate, we were missing a meaningful connection to the work.  This, he explained was how kids could read “Catcher in the Rye” but not understand Holden’s struggle with identity.  They get the words.  They just don’t get the deeper meaning.

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