Relearning How to Teach (and How to Speak)

Hi folks,
Sorry about the lack of posts this past week. One reason is because I’ve been busy with the three courses I’m teaching this summer, as well as spending time with visiting family. Another reason is that I received the proofs for my upcoming book, Never Caught Twice: Horse Stealing in Western Nebraska, 1850 – 1890, and I need to review every word of it to make sure that the printer has correctly set the type (which looks gorgeous, by the way).

But a third reason is algorithmic: suddenly, due to both changing accounting measures at WordPress and Google Analytics, as well as too-rosy-to-be-true assumptions on my part, my day to day site traffic plunged this week from what I thought was a few hundred views a day to about a dozen. While that realization this week did not necessarily cause me to not want to blog anymore – after all, I’m not doing this to be a social media influencer or a professional blogger, but to give my actual writing and teaching work a virtual home base for both new and existing readers of my work – it has reduced the urgency I feel to produce filler content when not blogging about my Grandpa’s Letters (which, as mentioned elsewhere here, is the basis of my current book project).

I say that partly in exasperation over the sheer amount of work it takes to obtain a blogging audience, but also because I want to say a couple of things about online teaching, and while this might not be one of those promised album reviews this blog is the best place for me to do it.

First of all, teaching on Zoom in my office is more difficult and much less fulfilling than teaching in a classroom. It’s easy to understand the “less fulfilling” part: I am a bit of a ham when I’m in front of an audience (a few of you may remember me “acting” in my high school’s plays during the late 90s), and even on days when I don’t feeling like teaching a class for whatever reason the time seems to speed by when I’m in a classroom. I love the energy, the forced extroversion for an hour and a half, the campus atmosphere. I love the libraries, the manicured lawns, the trees when they explode pink and green during the spring and burn crimson and yellow in the fall. I love the ritual of grabbing a pre-class coffee, and I love it when students approach me on campus with a question or a comment. I miss all that. There’s nothing Zoom or Canvas or any other online intermediary can do to make those things better, unless they combine their AI and invent a vaccine for this ghastly disease.

Then there’s the job itself. I love telling stories. I’m thrilled that I have found a way to make it my job to tell stories. Have you ever watched Moana? In some ways I believe the historian’s job is not unlike that of Moana’s grandmother: she is both an educator and a keeper of the island’s lore and legends. She is the keeper of the island’s past and its secrets. She knows where the skeletons – and the boats – are buried. But she also loves the island and its people. History is not just a growing collection of books and vast archival holdings. It is tactile, visual (hence the debate over statues), and interpersonal. Human connection and lived experience are history’s emulsifiers. Unfortunately, these things are largely if not wholly absent on Zoom. If history was born around a campfire, it will someday die on a closed browser tab.

If you’re a Moana fan, there’s a ton of backstory in the deleted scenes . . .

Of course, Zoom and other intermediaries are necessary at the moment, especially given the sudden rise in new COVID-19 cases throughout the United States, including here in California. And we are all learning how to navigate these new challenges throughout the world of education . . . in fact, my grievances hardly compare to those who are now tasked with teaching Kindergarten and First Grade online. But those challenges do seem to exist across the board, including for those of us who already have some online teaching experience (like me).

One of those challenges is my tendency to say “um” a lot. Weirdly enough, this is something I don’t do in class, since part of my theater and speech training was to excise such filler words from my vocabulary when speaking to an audience. However, when speaking on Zoom, I am sitting down and talking to a webcam, which is not even close to being the same thing. Suddenly, my lectures are full of “um”s, whereas when standing up and giving a lecture I will typically pause when I am thinking and, if necessary, fill the time with a sip of coffee (another great reason to bring coffee to class!).

In an effort to make my lectures more accessible, I started taking the sound files and mixing them into podcast episodes. That way students can listen to their lectures on the go or while doing other things. While this was a good idea, I think, the execution sounds very different in that I realized just how many filler words I use now:

17B Lecture Series, Episode 10: World War II 80 Years Ago Today: Grandpa's Letters from the Pacific

The 17B Lecture Series is a repository of my summer 17B Zoom lectures for my HIST 17B: United States History from 1865 to the present. In this episode we review WWII and I defend my native son attachment to Harry S Truman. Note: all episodes are labeled "explicit," not because there is an overabundance of cursing, but because a curse word does sometimes slip out every now and then.
  1. 17B Lecture Series, Episode 10: World War II
  2. 17B Lecture Series, Episode 9: The New Deal
  3. 17B Lecture Series, Episode 8: The Roaring 20s and the Beginning of the Depression
  4. 17B Lecture Series, Episode 7: World War I
  5. 17B Lecture Series, Episode 6: Progressive Era

Practice will make perfect, and now that I am aware of the problem it is something I can begin to work on. One thing that I think will help: I just bought a nice, entry-level microphone for my broadcasts. It is not unobtrustive . . . like many broadcast mics it is inconveniently large. But I hope that, in addition to dramatically improving my sound quality, it will also trick my brain into believing that I’m actually behind a podium, and not my desk.

Speaking of my desk, I built the top out of oak and attached it to a standing desk base. Maybe my lectures would be a good time to dispense with the desk chair and start standing again.

In any event, although the podcast is a fun way to distribute lecture content, I’m not a podcaster at heart. Unlike with my recent blog analytics, I won’t be bothered by the fact that I can count the number of downloads on one hand. I can’t, ummm, imagine having to do one of those podcasts, ummm, regularly, you know? But my new microphone does look pretty cool.

One corner of my table-sized desk, complete with a picture of my kid manhandling my guitar, a Buffalo Bill mug with a bunch of pens and probably more scissors than I need, a set of horse coasters I bought in Kentucky (where else?), and my new Blue Yeti microphone. And yes, I need to clean my desk.

Fall Updates and Resolutions

I apologize for not having posted for awhile. This past summer has been, well . . . eventful.

It began with two weeks of being sick with what I thought was severe food poisoning. Once I began doubting whether or not I was going to heal on my own, I went to the emergency room, where I soon learned that I had a severe colon infection and, in all probability, ulcerative colitis. Two subsequent colonoscopies confirmed the diagnosis. I was in the hospital for three days, ended up having to cancel a much-anticipated trip to St. Louis with my daughter to visit friends and family, cut short and modified at considerable expense a research trip to Nebraska (one of these days I will write a rant-post against Priceline), and began learning how to live with this insanely arbitrary illness. The good news right now is that it looks like my case will not be severe enough to warrant a colectomy, but the bad news is that until I get my new treatment approved by my insurance and medical group I will be on Prednisone, which is the devil’s drug. I still don’t feel 100%, but I’ll get there.

Anyway, my summer came off to a (shall we say?) crappy start . . . but then it started to get better. I had a nice time teaching a six-week long American History to 1877 course up in Grass Valley, which was a long but mostly pleasant commute that landed me in a classroom with an excellent view of the surrounding pine forests and mountains. I also managed to complete and submit my book revisions, which took a lot more time than I anticipated, but mainly because I stubbornly kept finding things I wanted to change or add. I will have more updates on this project in the coming weeks and months, but for now the tentative publication date is early fall 2020. Stay tuned . . .

The summer culminated in three fantastic trips: Disneyland with my wife’s family, Vancouver with my family and my mother in law, and Tokyo with one of my closest friends. Suffice it to say I didn’t do a lot of work during those three weeks, but it was a great way to end an unusually lopsided though not entirely unhappy summer break.

So, here we are at the start of the fall semester . . . leaves are starting to change, students are starting to worry about their grades, and I’m beginning to work on my grandpa’s letters project again. As of now I have all of the letters digitized up through the end of 1942. The real bottleneck – and joy – at this point is sifting through them. I’m going to try to write more posts than I need (going to try to post two a week, plus one or two other posts about other history-type things), and ideally will do so with the notion of eventually incorporating parts of them into the book I am planning and researching on the subject. In the meantime, we are beginning to fundraise for the Earthshaking documentary, and I hope that between this site and my other social media stuff I can be web-savvy/engaged enough to create an online audience that is sufficiently large and willing to buy my forthcoming book. For all these endeavors, your advice and tips are most appreciated!

Between my recent medical issues, the completion of my book, and a lot of idle thought while commuting between Orangevale and Grass Valley, I am approaching this fall as something of a personal and professional reboot. I am working to become healthier, working on actualizing my many projects, and hoping to reconcile all these things with life as a dad, husband, and teacher. We’ll see what comes of it, but in the meantime . . . please keep checking in as I tell my grandpa’s story about the War. And while Pearl Harbor may be the most iconic and salient event in his letters, his story does not end there. In fact, it is only the beginning . . .

I hope that everyone reading this has a happy and productive fall. Pumpkin spice if you got ’em . . .