Language defacement

Shakespeare, among others, is famous for inventing new words, such as bedazzled and addiction. As historically interesting this process of creation is, it is less significant than the process of hijacking existing words and applying them to new contexts to the point that the original meaning becomes an historical fact in itself and an archaic use of old or dead writers. Two examples are the word gay, which used to only mean “happy”, and pryck, which was a sharp pole placed in the corner of field to mark ownership. In the last few decades, the most important driving force behind this piracy is the Internet. It is hard to remember when the words mouse, boot, cookie and worm brought up images of items on a child’s exploration of a field.

Due to its mass use, including by people who don’t actually use a desk computer, Facebook is slowly but surely shaping the connotations of countless terms, both nouns and verbs. Once, a page was clearly a solid white piece of paper (that had to be typed in my day). Nowadays, if someone writes on a page, it is probably on Facebook. English always distinguished between acquaintances and friends, but now you have to say a “personal friend” to ensure understanding of a flesh-and-blood connection. Shame used to be in the context of failing to live up to some expectation, generally in the family.  Shaming now brings up thought of malicious and ugly messages intended to make someone’s life miserable.

The verbs have really been hit by a storm. Posting meant putting a letter in the mailbox. I imagine that such an image is rather strange to anybody under 30. Similarly, liking people often assumed at least having seen them.  This is no longer true. For that matter, sharing was what children had to do with their toys when they were small (generally against their will).  Likewise, reacting required some unusual action, physical and/or verbal, to some stimulus. I doubt how much adrenalin actually flows when people react to my posts.

To clarify, I am not Don Quixote fighting the windmill. I accept, albeit not always with joy, the inevitable dynamics of language. Every generation is shaped by different forces, which forces the shapes of its languages. Granted, it makes it hard for grandparents to understand their grandchildren but that has already been difficult for many generations. Still, I suffer from nostalgia for the time when everybody understood each other, even if that was an illusion linguistically. In the meantime, I spent the weekend watching a party, i.e. attending an event of my wife’s family, pictures and video of which will not be posted in Facebook. To paraphrase Tom Lehrer, what’s next?

Unlabeled futures

I was born, fortunately, in a non-diagnosing time in terms of assessment of children. Specifically, during my school years, my teachers, parents and administrators told us (or made it understood) what we good at and what we were not good at. These skill areas were academic, such as reading or math, motoric, such as skill in certain sports, and social, such as the ability to sit attentively in class or interact with our peers. I don’t believe that there were any pupils in my elementary school that thought they believed they were great, poor or average in everything.  We were like characters from a role-play game: strength in one aspect was at the price of weakness in another.

Yet, with all these assessments, I cannot recall that we ever told that we had any specific syndrome. This is probably due to the lack of awareness of such matters as well as lack of available professionals available to make such formal diagnoses. In some ways, we were as imperfect as the adults around us, which was perfectly normal. The positive aspect of this medical ignorance was that we were never told what could not do in the future. It was understood that children develop at different paces in different areas. In other words, on a skill percentile basis, the results of 6^th grade could be very different than those of 2^nd grade. Unless parents made some special effort, the improvement was completely organic and often painful, without outside assistance.

To give an example, from my early report cards, comments from parents and my memories, during elementary school, I was a serious, painfully shy student with a quick grasp of material and a cooperative attitude, a nerd if you wish. My weaknesses included poor handwriting, difficulty in learning how to read (remedied by around 3^rd grade), poor hand-eye and motoric coordination and over sensitiveness. For the purposes of the record, some 50+ years later, I am an experienced teacher with a strong presence in the classroom, a translator and editor. I play tennis and folk dance and married (twice actually), as well as raised a child to adulthood. So, one way or another, I have overcome all those weaknesses and created a complete life.

The fact that I never knew that I had (and have) two diagnosable conditions meant that I constructed no psychological barriers to my success. The cognitive barriers still exist; certain tasks are more difficult for me than for others, meaning I have to take more time or find different ways to accomplish them. That statement is true for all people of all ages and thus has no proscriptive importance. My refusal to state those conditions is precisely due to the fact that I do not want to have my capabilities labeled on the basis of a term. Instead, I want to be judged on what I actually do.

The implication for parents, educators, leaders and, most importantly, individuals of all ages, whether in schools or businesses, is that formal diagnoses, even when correct, are not predictors of current or future ability. Persons with dyslexia have become outstanding CEOs, albeit with a different style. A person with OCD can be a highly effective manager in all aspects. Perfectionists can evolve into ideal problem solvers. In the bottom line, individual choice, skill sets and circumstances determine the basis for personal success at any time, not medical labels. Ignorance can be bliss.

West and [Middle] East – Academic meeting

Although it was quite a few years ago, I still remember my feelings as an 18-year-old freshman at UC Santa Cruz on the first day of college, physically registering for classes (pre-Internet days). I felt fear and great uncertainty as I circulated among my fellow new students, all mostly entirely white and 18 years old and having just completed high school.  Our accumulated non-academic life experience and self-confidence was rather close to absolute zero even if we tried to hide this lack. In terms of religion, most were Christian with a small sprinkling of Jews and Muslims.  The largest minorities were Afro-Americans (to use the current term) and Asians, whose cultural norms were not that different from the other students. In other words, our lecturers looked on a rather homogenous group of students in terms of age and cultural background.

I have been teaching English at the Braude College of Engineering in Karmiel in the Galilee in Israel, for over 25 years now. The college, currently with some 5,500 students enrolled in its various programs, is a second-tier engineering college, behind the Technion, which is the MIT or Cal Tech of Israel, and offers first and second degrees in various disciplines, including mechanical and electronic engineering as well as biotechnology, programming and industrial management. The contrast with my undergraduate experience as I observe and communicate with my students is quite striking in all aspects.

First of all, the ages of my students range from 18 to 28. The youngest are Arabs from the surrounding villages, who are not required to serve in the army or do national service and, in many cases, are encouraged to get a degree before starting to work. The oldest are those that served in the army, often both the mandatory period and sometimes an additional period as “regular army, often followed by a trip to a distant land to clean their heads and preparatory studies of a year or more to improve their grades to be accepted at the college. Moreover, most have had significant life experiences, including combat service, officer training, setting up businesses and enriching trips abroad. They are far from innocent and, in many ways, much more knowledgeable than me.

In terms of religion, since the college is in the Galilee, students may be Jewish, Muslim, Druze, Catholic, Greek orthodox, Russian Orthodox or none of the above, as in the case of many Russians and their children. This means that the holiday calendar, as reflected by dates on which quizzes may not be given, is rather complicated.  Of course, during Ramadan, which lasts a month, many of my students have a hard time concentrating, especially if the holiday falls during hot weather, since many of the Muslim students neither eat nor drink during the day.

Beyond that, the behavior norms of Arabs, both Muslim and Christian, are quite different from the Jews. While latter tend to be direct and clear in expressing their understanding, agreement or lack thereof, Arab mentality, especially among the female students, is much more understated. They tend to avoid expressing their true state of comprehension or unhappiness. The true situation is often only discovered during testing as reflected by the actual results.

Given the age of most of the students and their understandable desire to gain economic independence, they are very directed in their studies.  Engineering studies are quite demanding and difficult, often involving more than 20-30 hours a week just of class time, not to mention homework. Since their goal is clear, most of my students accept the heavy burden of study in good cheer.

This heterogeneity has a strong effect on the whole style of teaching. Israeli college lecturers can be subject experts and even mentors but not parental figures. To be effective, it is necessary to be sensitive and flexible in approaching students. Some need direct challenges and questions while others have to be handled more indirectly in a more non-threatening manner. In terms of authority, given the self-confidence and experience of the students, teachers must show respect but clearly exercise authority to maintain “possession” of the class. Otherwise, they simply lose the students, who do not hesitate to complain about any improper aspect to the course coordinator or department head. By the nature of group dynamics, this fine line between authority and respect differs for each group of students, often depending on the ethnic mix of students. Thus, Israeli college lecturers, to an even larger degree than for most teachers in the country, not only have to be experts in their subject matter but also strong personalities to successfully lead a class.

Kipling wrote that East and West will never meet. It is clear that college teaching in this nook of the Middle East and in the United States, I imagine even today, are extremely different despite the similarities in the subject matter taught. I can say that, after many years of teaching, the aspect I most enjoy of this profession is my interaction with my students, who not only give me hope for the future but also personally enrich me with their insights and understanding.