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GREEN!?

On Education Aims: Knowledge or Know-How?

Let me start this missive by saying that I am not an educator (nor do I play one on TV). This does not mean that I don't think about education and its aims, methods and denouement. Just the other day, I found myself brooding over the migration to digital methods of education. My son, for example, has a curriculum that requires the use of a school-issued iPad. While innovative methods are generally to be celebrated (provided they are effective), I have a growing unease about the inevitable and negative impact to productivity. Technology doesn't always make learning easier, and in some cases it introduces a great opportunity for distraction. But this is not a post about digital curriculums, and I don't want to belabor the point, so allow me to leave this subject be for another day.
 
As I watch my house being rebuilt before my eyes, I find myself at times just marveling at the apparent ease with which these skilled laborers and craftsmen execute their trade. I remember how long it took me as an unskilled do-it-yourselfer to simply finish off a room that had been shaped, but not completed, by a hired contractor. There are times, material considerations aside, that I envy those who excel in careers based less on degree than on the honing of a vocational skill or trade. Looking back across my life, my educational trajectory was simple: use your smarts, get good grades in high school, get the degree, go to college, get another degree, get a well-paying job and proceed on with life. The aim, although perhaps I didn't realize it at the time, was to get that well-paying desk job. Although I am a trained engineer who once worked with both hardware and software, my career now centers on my ability to think, develop concepts, communicate, and oversee those who bring my ideas to life. I can't even write software anymore. On the whole, I can accept where I am. But every now and then, I worry about never having truly learned a marketable trade. This sense was reinforced when I read the following (emphasis mine): 

In each case, I shared my theory that most of these “problems” were in fact symptoms of something more fundamental – a change in the way Americans viewed hard work and skilled labor. That’s the essence of what I’ve heard from the hundreds of men and women I’ve worked with on Dirty Jobs. Pig farmers, electricians, plumbers, bridge painters, jam makers, blacksmiths, brewers, coal miners, carpenters, crab fisherman, oil drillers…they all tell me the same thing over and over, again and again – our country has become emotionally disconnected from an essential part of our workforce. We are no longer impressed with cheap electricity, paved roads, and indoor plumbing. We take our infrastructure for granted, and the people who build it.

Today, we can see the consequences of this disconnect in any number of areas, but none is more obvious than the growing skills gap. Even as unemployment remains sky high, a whole category of vital occupations has fallen out of favor, and companies struggle to find workers with the necessary skills. The causes seem clear. We have embraced a ridiculously narrow view of education. Any kind of training or study that does not come with a four-year degree is now deemed “alternative.” Many viable careers once aspired to are now seen as “vocational consolation prizes,” and many of the jobs this current administration has tried to “create” over the last four years are the same jobs that parents and teachers actively discourage kids from pursuing. (I always thought there was something ill-fated about the promise of three million “shovel ready jobs” made to a society that no longer encourages people to pick up a shovel.)

Never mind that this letter, written by Mike Rowe, is a political letter. Rowe, who I have seen only in commercials - I have never seen his show - has hit on something here that resonates with me. Indeed, we should respect and celebrate those whose labor brings direct benefit to our standards of living. While I am not in favor of tax-payer subsidies of such industry, there is no dishonor in the pursuit of a trade-based career, and there never should be. Get the degree is the mantra of all education. But what about apprenticeship, the development of skills and craft? An easy example comes to mind: more often than not, your car is serviced by a technician, not a mechanic. A mechanic not only understands how the car works, he knows how to fix it. Technicians plug a cable into the computer in your car, get an error code, and receive a computerized set of steps to execute. Again, not to belittle the modern auto technician, but the truth is, the skill set is different than what a master mechanic brings to the table.
 
When the Scarecrow met the Wizard, he lamented his lack of a brain. The Wizard famously responded: 

Why, anybody can have a brain -- that's a very mediocre commodity. Back where I come from, we have universities -- seats of great learning -- where men go to become great thinkers. And when they come out, they think deep thoughts -- and with no more brains than you have. But -- they have one thing you haven't got: a diploma. Therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Universitatis Comitiatum E Pluribus Unum, I hereby confer upon you the honorary degree of ThD. … Doctor of Thinkology.

The Scarecrow was still a scarecrow, and he was still made of hay. The diploma didn't change that. It only changed his perception of himself, and perhaps it changed how he was perceived by others. In reality, despite his new look on life, it could have easily turned out that he remained most suited for work as a scarecrow. We have this high minded idea that a diploma elevates you to a "higher status." Some of the deepest thinkers I know do not have a degree. And they work much harder than I do for much less.
 
Where am I going with this? Actually, I am almost afraid to continue the thought. But here goes: the degree (or diploma) has and will continue to have marketable value in our economy. This is what we are used to. The degree opens doors that might not otherwise ever open. But we are foolish to think that such doors are the only opportunities out there for a long and fulfilling career. I don't need a guy with a degree to fix my toilet, I need a guy who knows how to fix toilets (bad example - I have plenty of toilet-fixing experience). But you get my point. The degree does not guarantee prosperity or happiness. Good men and women live good and honorable lives without one. They work hard, and are often better for it despite the struggle.
 
I've long considered going back to school to get undergraduate and graduate degrees in history. Now, I have pause to wonder: perhaps, if it is not too late, I should consider training in a trade, or a craft. Because I cannot help but to think that being able to do more than type and formulate words on a page would be a wise and possibly fulfilling venture, and even a precaution, especially in a future economy where opportunities might otherwise be limited.
 
Author Robert Heinlein once wrote: 

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

I have spent my life wanting to learn more about things. Hopefully, I won't miss the opportunity to learn how to do things.

2.0 Is Coming

Photo credit: Byron Hall

Of Trusses, Frames and Shelves

And the clouds parted on the third day, and there arrived a crew, a motley crew, to take that which was laid before them to bring to form that which will, by Heaven's will, once again be called … home.

Indeed the rain departed earlier than expected on Tuesday. The pre-constructed floor trusses arrived during Monday's monsoon, along with piles of subfloor and stick lumber. By the end of the day Tuesday, the trusses were laid and the basement was largely framed out. There are some errors, minor in nature, that will need to be corrected, but the ongoing transformation promises to be quite dynamic over the next several days.

I took quite a few pictures yesterday, and below I tried to select a representative sample to share with you. The major difference in the rebuild design versus the original house plan is our decision to finish out the basement. The new basement plan will feature an open family space, storage space, a bedroom, the storm shelter, a bathroom, and an odd little polygon that will serve as storage for all the exercise equipment we intend to buy but will likely rarely use.

Here's a shot of the floor trusses against a brilliant blue sky:

Here's a picture of the aforementioned polygon room, taken from the family space. It is actually where our ping-pong table (stacked high with boxes) used to be:

Standing near the exterior doorway of the basement, the shot below shows a new load-bearing wall extending much of the length of the basement. Behind that wall you can see the old "storm shelter" (which wasn't really). That whole space, extended all the way to the right where it adjoins the storm shelter, will be storage.

Below you can see what will be family space in the forefront, along with the storm shelter to the left and back, and straight ahead past the family space the new spare bedroom.

One final picture for today, but this one comes with a short background story. We hereby lay to rest and/or retire our beloved storage shelves. Years ago, my dad and I built these shelves for the basement, the prototypes for what I had envisioned to be but two of many. They held boxed up Christmas trees, decorations, containers of old children's clothes and toys, broken coolers, and whatever else we felt needed to be off the floor. When the house collapsed, the shelves took a shattering blow from the joists overhead, yet remained standing holding some of their fare. The wood was splintered and cracked, and the shelves had quite the offset lean, but upright and proud they remained. When the debris was cleared from the property, these survivors remained on the basement pad. For months they sat, unused, exposed to the weather. But when the builders arrived, new life and new utility came upon these friends. A chance to be used once again, they held tools, supplies, and refreshments. They moved from one end of the basement to the other, wherever they were needed. And on that day when the concrete trucks arrived and the laborers had need, these shelves served as extra scaffolding as the concrete was poured into the wall forms. Alas, finally, as the framers came to complete their work in the basement, it was time to retire these fine pieces of homemade construction. I wish there was someway to save them, but they have already given more than we could have ever expected. And so even now as I write this tribute, intended to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek, I find myself just the slightest bit emotional about these shelves that have been but a light-hearted novelty these past many months. To be certain, there will be progeny. But these shelves certainly have gone far above and beyond the call of duty. I will actually miss them. But they will remain a great story, one that I'm certain to tell again and again. As my dad recently remarked, "when we build ‘em, we build ‘em!" And did we ever. May we do so again someday.

When 1984 meets 1979?

I wish I were more educated than I am. For then, I might be better able to make sense of the cascade of events threatening to break hard against the eroding foundation of our national and international identity. Of late, I have refrained (painfully) from commenting on the rapid deterioration of our national discourse, our political/social angst, and the ramifications of the outbreak of violence throughout North Africa and the ongoing tensions of the Israeli-Iran situation.

What keeps coming to my mind can be embodied in the following question: What happens when George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four meets 1979? In 1979, the U.S. economy was in poor shape, the Middle East and North Africa were as tumultuous as ever, and Iran was holding Americans hostage after the overrun of the U.S. Embassy in Teheran. While 2012 is not 1979, there are more than a few parallels at play, for those who wish to see it. In 1979, much like now, there were those among the intelligentsia who believed that America had entered a period of decline. For now, let's leave that where it is. The parallels of 2012 and 1979 are not the point of this post.

It has been many, many years since I've read Orwell. However, he is going back into my reading queue, I think. There are some notable concepts from Nineteen Eighty-Four that *seem* to be playing out before our eyes - again, if we choose to see it that way. Consider:

Doublethink: From Orwell:

The keyword here is blackwhite. … Applied to an opponent, it means the habit of impudently claiming that black is white, in contradiction of the plain facts. Applied to a Party member, it means a loyal willingness to say that black is white when Party discipline demands this. But it means also the ability to believe that black is white, and more, to know that black is white, and to forget that one has ever believed the contrary. This demands a continuous alteration of the past, made possible by the system of thought which really embraces all the rest, and which is known ... as doublethink. Doublethink is basically the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them.

That which is demonstrably false is proclaimed as undeniable fact and beyond debate. That which is demonstrably true is proclaimed false and fictitious at best, evil at worst. Its aim is to demand loyalty and conformance not to reality, but to what some external voice claims is reality, whether it is or not. To be sure, if ever you hear someone claim that another is channeling Josef Goebbels, you can be certain that the one making the claim is likely more guilty of the projection. (Goebbels is the one who is often credited with the idea that if you tell a big lie and repeat it often enough, people will believe it).

Thoughtcrime: From Orwell via Wikipedia:

Thoughtcrime is the criminal act of holding unspoken beliefs or doubts that oppose or question the ruling party. In the book, the government attempts to control not only the speech and actions, but also the thoughts of its subjects. Unacceptable thought is known as crimethink …

We are often told what to think, and how to think about things we see, hear, or otherwise experience. Our thoughts can be shaped and corrupted not only but what others tell us to think, but by what information we are allowed to see and hear. We rely on and trust our information sources to be impartial, but that is more and more the exception than the rule. So many facts and factors never enter into the equation of our assessments, often by virtue of their deliberate omission. You think that this effort to shape thought is too far-fetched? Consider political correctness. Do you think that it is that much of a stretch to think that political correctness can lead to the definition what is acceptable and unacceptable, to include the classification of "hate speech" and even the notion of hate crimes? Because it can and it does.

The response of the administration and the media to an obviously premeditated attack on U.S. Embassies and interests around the world focused not on the perpetrators of violence but rather on the demonization of an American citizen for the promotion of "wrong" thoughts and beliefs. Rather than asking why our interests abroad were insufficiently protected, much less prepared for the obvious heightened security awareness required of an 9/11 anniversary, we now are openly engaged in a dialog about what can only become the serious consideration of anti-blasphemy regulations. Basically, such regulations could make it criminal to criticize Islam, out of fear of what it may incite. Like yelling "fire" in a theater, there are those who would suggest that anything remotely questioning the nature and motive of Islam and its followers be censored or extremely controlled, again out of fear of the reaction.

But then, regulations of such sort may not be necessary, not when people in power, rather than protecting its citizens, instead publishes names and thereby unleashes a flash mob of media hordes and others upon the neighborhoods and associations to scapegoat and otherwise drive said citizens and their families into hiding or recantation.

As you can see by the disjointed nature of this post, my thoughts on this are clearly not yet fully developed. Indeed, this whole line of thinking may be off base. But I cannot help but to be unnerved by the all too real tears in our national fabric, and in the fissures in our social contract that appear now to be very serious indeed. Because my thoughts are not fully formed, I'll leave you with a few links that have given me pause as I contemplate these matters. Down the road, as my thoughts become more clear, I may yet revisit this idea of what happens when 1984 meets 1979.

In the meantime, in the words of Samuel L. Jackson's character in Jurassic Park, "hold on to your butts."

The Video Didn't Do It

The Unofficial Campaign's Latest Disinformation Offensive

The Reign of Imagination

Concrete Pour

Yesterday was a big day out at the property. With all the ICF in place and plumb, some 5 mixer trucks lined up (staggered throughout the morning) to offload tons of concrete mix into the forms.

My wife and I paid a visit to the site during the early part of the process, to watch and to chat with our builder. The storm shelter is now a fully encased concrete bunker, and the exterior basement wall forms are all filled. Once these set, the floor trusses will arrive and the framing stage will begin.

The photos below, including the panoramic views, were taken by my father-in-law shortly after I left the site to go back to the office. Click to enlarge.

Finally, a video, because there ought to be a video. The highlight of the embedded video below is the hydraulic pumper. The mix comes down the chute into a reservoir on the pumper. The piston-based hydraulic action then pushes the mix into what I guess to be a 6-inch diameter tube that the crew uses to pour. It's loud, but cool. Kinda brings out the Tim Taylor in me. Sure beats the kettle mixer I used in Brazil back in 1994.


Two more videos, Pour 1 and Pour 2, just for fun.

I Can't Drive … 85

One foot on the brake and one on the gas, hey!
Well, there's too much traffic, I can't pass, no!
So I tried my best illegal move
A big black and white come and crushed my groove again!

CHORUS:
Go on & write me up for 125
Post my face, wanted dead or alive
Take my license n' all that jive
I can't drive 55! Oh No! Uh!

With apologies to Sammy Hagar, this song from my youth was among the first thoughts that popped into my head after reading this article about a new speed limit in Texas.

Texas will soon open a stretch of highway with the highest speed limit in the country, giving eager drivers a chance to rip through a trip between two of the state’s largest metropolitan areas.

The Texas Transportation Commission has approved a speed limit of 85 mph for a 41-mile toll road several miles east of the increasingly crowded Interstate 35 corridor between Austin and San Antonio. ...

Most highways in the U.S. top out at 75 mph, and there are no longer any roads in the U.S. with no speed limit. Some highways in rural West Texas and Utah have 80 mph speed limits.

Now, I'm far from an anti-autobahn prude, and in my younger days I did on occasion take my 1971 Impala up to speeds that shall not be named far out on deserted county roads. I remember the transition from 55mph to 65mph, and again to 70mph. Each adjustment came with the slightest of thrills at being able to legally go as fast as I preferred to go. I've also driven a fair amount in and through Texas, where in some places you can drive 75mph on a two-lane road.

But I have to tell you, maybe I'm just getting old, but I just don't know how comfortable I would be hurtling down the road at 85mph, much less with my family in tow.

(What am I saying!? This is a challenge of my manhood, isn't it. Isn't it!? Good thing for you I live in Alabama and not Texas. Yeah. Good thing for you! Ha! Dude, where's my car?)

Next Week's Forecast: 80% Chance of Pouring Concrete

I've always wondered what it would be like to be encased in concrete. Okay, not really. But as the latest pictures will attest, the storm shelter in the basement will likely satisfy my curiosity. (Although I must say, I don't think I will feel any less claustrophobic inside the safe area, no matter how big it is).

We are less than a week away from the Great Colossal Concrete Pour, weather permitting. The forms are up, the LiteDeck is in on the shelter, and final preparations are underway. Here's a look at the LiteDeck WRS (wood rib system) that serves as the ceiling to the storm shelter:

The basic LiteDeck WRS looks like this, in a cut-away drawing borrowed from their website:

The idea here is that the shelter's walls and ceiling will be a single, solid form of concrete. The crews will pour concrete into the vertical walls of the shelter, filling to the brim. As it fills, the pour will continue into the LiteDeck channels, which by virtue of the rebar, will be fully tied into the vertical walls. The fill will continue until there is a 3-4 inch slab across the whole ceiling. When it sets, the ceiling and three walls of the structure will be a single piece of concrete, tied into the existing retaining wall from the original house and to the basement floor.

Here's a shot looking inside the shelter at the temporary support frame:

And one more miscellaneous picture:

After the concrete sets and the supports are removed, the floor trusses (already built) will arrive along with a full crew of framers. We are told that the roof trusses are already built as well. Again, weather permitting, a full framing frenzy is only a few weeks away.

As an aside, I think I may finally be getting used to the change on the eastern vista. While I will certainly continue to miss the trees that once grew so grand, I know I can look forward to sights like this:

Looking at that, I have a catch in my heart.

I'm ready to go home.

Voyager on the Verge

They don't make 'em like that anymore.
Talk about the final frontier.

Tomorrow marks the 35th anniversary of the launch of the Voyager 1 spacecraft. Launched in 1977, along with its twin, Voyager 2, this venerable, nuclear-powered spacecraft is over 11 billion miles away and on the verge of crossing out of our solar system and into true interstellar space:

When NASA's Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 first rocketed out of Earth's grip in 1977, no one knew how long they would live. Now, they are the longest-operating spacecraft in history and the most distant, at billions of miles from Earth but in different directions.

Wednesday marks the 35th anniversary of Voyager 1's launch to Jupiter and Saturn. It is now flitting around the fringes of the solar system, which is enveloped in a giant plasma bubble. This hot and turbulent area is created by a stream of charged particles from the sun.

Outside the bubble is a new frontier in the Milky Way — the space between stars.

I remember, as a kid, the early flybys of Jupiter and Saturn, and later Uranus and Neptune (Voyager 2). That both spacecraft are just now at the far reaches of the solar system, after all of these years, just brings to bear the expanse that is our corner of the galaxy.

Voyager 1 is currently more than 11 billion miles from the sun. Twin Voyager 2, which celebrated its launch anniversary two weeks ago, trails behind at 9 billion miles from the sun.

They're still ticking despite being relics of the early Space Age.

Each only has 68 kilobytes of computer memory. To put that in perspective, the smallest iPod — an 8-gigabyte iPod Nano — is 100,000 times more powerful. Each also has an eight-track tape recorder. Today's spacecraft use digital memory.

68kb of memory. That is almost unbelievable. And an 8-track! Voyager is still sending us data today.

Who knows how long it will last, or how far it will go, or what it will find out there.

Or even, who will find it!