Thursday, December 20, 2007
KEN'S SIOUX CITY MARATHON VIDEO!
I took my little camera with video to document my run, and I pieced together a ten minute video of it, which I have posted on Google Video. Please watch it!
Details of Our Running Adventures, Summer 2007
It's been a few months since I wrote here. Since that time I participated in a number of foot races. They are as follows:
•Fargo Marathon, Fargo, North Dakota (May 19)
•Rhubarb days 5k in Leola, SD (June 2)
•125th Anniversary 10k, Ellendale, North Dakota (June 30)
•March for Memories 5k, Dickey County Fair, Ellendale North Dakota (July 7)
•YMCA Bull Run half marathon, Aberdeen, SD (July 28)
•Applefest 5k, Ellendale, North Dakota (September 22)
•Lewis and Clark Marathon, Sioux City, Iowa (October 20)
I recovered pretty quickly from the Fargo Marathon. The severe knee pain went away right after the race. It didn't come back until halfway through the Sioux City Marathon, the season's last event. In between, I ran three 5ks, a 10k and a half marathon. So, it's been a busy running season.
•Fargo Marathon, Fargo, North Dakota (May 19)
As I wrote in an earlier entry, this race was a success in that I finished. It was a disappointment in that it took five hours and two minutes. Looking back, it was a great inauguration into the world of marathoning.
•Rhubarb days 5k in Leola, SD (June 2)
This was early one soggy morning two weeks after the Fargo marathon. My alarm rang at five and the rain was a steady drizzle. Robin thought they'd call off the event. But I knew runners are tough. I for one was eager. So I drove the 40 miles to Leola. Robin stayed in bed.
I paid my $15 entry fee and signed a damp entry form at the back end of an SUV and waited with the other runners beneath a park shelter. Just before 7:00 the rain stopped.
The Rhubarb Days 5k was unique in that the runners piled into cars and rode to the start line. This run was a straight shot. No loops or out-and-backs, just head toward the tall grey grain elevators that mark this little town's spot on the prairie.
This was a fast race. A high school boy and a college girl took a strong lead early on. I stayed with Wayne and Neil, two local guys a bit older than myself. We were together until the last two blocks, when we broke into a sprint. Wayne beat me by a couple of lengths. Our time was amazing--just over 18 minutes! Wow! And only two weeks after having run a full marathon!
It seemed too fast to be real. Could it be a full 3.1 miles we'd run? Wayne didn't think so, and I didn't either. I drove to the start and the true distance was revealed: 2.5 miles. So the 18 minute time was not spectacular. Still, it was the fastest two and a half miles I'd ever run. I felt great.
•125th Anniversary 10k, Ellendale, North Dakota (June 30)
Ellendale had both a 5k and 10k race for its big quinticentennial celebration. Since I'd already done a full marathon and a 5k, I thought the 10k was my proper challenge. And a challenge it was! It was hard work.
At the turn around point three miles east of town, I thought I might quit. But I pushed on and did the second half almost as fast as the first half. My time was 48 minutes. That was almost 5 minutes faster than the 10k I'd done as an open runner at a Jamestown College track meet in April. I felt pretty good that day.
Robin ran the 5k race, her first ever. Her time was a little over 26 minutes--first place in her age category!
•March for Memories 5k, Dickey County Fair, Ellendale North Dakota (July 7)
This was the one year anniversary of my first ever 5k race. Robin and I both ran it. So did our eight year old son Owen. We each took second place! And we each got a cash prize, which paid for our entry fees! Wow!
•YMCA Bull Run half marathon, Aberdeen, SD (July 28)
When I first heard about this run a year earlier, I knew I wanted to be in it. Just the name sounds great. You'd have to be really tough (like a bull) to run this one, right?
The end of July is normally pretty around here. So I did some moderate training in the mid-day sun. But the day of the race wasn't too hot. And besides, the race started at 7:00 A.M.
I'd just purchased my most expensive running accessory to date--a Garmin Forerunner 305, which my daughter Emily calls my "nerdy watch." With a little help from that device, and a lot of guts and determination, I managed an 8:02 pace, for a one hour, 44 minute finishing time.
This was probably the most draining race I've ever done. That afternoon I reclined in our little Ford Escort, nursing my cramps and aches, while Robin and the boys toured the local fun park. The feeling I had was of having been through a couple hours of torture, and enjoying the fact that I wasn't being tortured anymore.
•Applefest 5k, Ellendale, North Dakota (September 22)
This was in one way the best of my summer races. After all, I won it! My two closest competitors were both Trinity students, both about 20 years younger than myself. My time was 21:33. That was 35 seconds faster than my previous 5k best.
I'd trained hard, hoping to come in under 21 minutes. But I realized something during this race: running just ten seconds faster per mile requires a significant increase in effort and energy expenditure. I'd done quite a bit of speed training, but I guess wasn't quite ready to run a sub-twenty one 5k. Maybe next year.
For winning the Applefest race, I got a big trophy--a cast metal statue of a very tough looking runner.
•Lewis and Clark Marathon, Sioux City, Iowa (Saturday, October 20)
Robin and I decided to use this race as an excuse for a vacation getaway, so we left all the kids at home. We like to do practical things on our vacations, so we planned to purchase a 4 x 8 trailer Harbor Freight in Sioux City. We'd bolt it together and pull it home behind our little Escort. So late that afternoon we were out in a parking lot, bending over a bunch of metal rails and bolts and steel fittings.
Assembly was a little slow, and we almost missed the Friday evening pasta dinner for the runners. Fortunately, a fellow in an old pickup drove up and offered to help us put the trailer together. This guy was amazing! He took more than an hour of his own time to help us, and wouldn't take any money for it. While working together, we had an interesting discussion about family life and kids. Later his wife drove up, and so we got to meet her, too. A very nice couple!
We were a bit concerned about pulling the trailer in the dark, since we didn't have the lights installed yet. So our friends offered to drop the trailer off for us at our motel. And they did! And at the time we didn't even know their last names!
Ayway, we did get some pasta. And the next morning, we were there at 6:30 and I was ready to run. This was my first race I beginning in the dark. It was nice!
The first half of the Sioux City Marathon went smoothly. I ran with some older guys and the conversation was great. I was having such a good time with them that I did not do any walk breaks for ten miles. I made the halfway point in two hours and four minutes, and felt fine. I was--I thought--on course to run maybe a four-ten or four-twenty marathon. About mile 14 things got worse. My left knee started hurting pretty bad and I started taking walk breaks. After a couple of miles, my right knee started hurting also. Pretty soon the pain was so bad in the right knee that I imagined a screwdriver had been jabbed up under my kneecap. Every time my foot came down, it jabbed in a little farther. I slowed to a walk.
About this time, Robin met me by the side of the road. I got a little sympathy and changed from my Mizunos into my softer Asics Gel Nimbus shoes, then ran a little more. But soon I realized I had only two real options. Either walk the rest of the way or quit. With eleven miles to go, disappointment set in. I thought seriously of quitting. But then I asked myself, "what would my family think if Iquit? What would my students think?" I wouldn't quit. I'd walk instead, and watch probably a hundred runners pass me by.
After awhile I realized I still had a choice to make. Walk fast or walk slow. I found that I could take long, hard strides with very little knee pain--proof that Jeff Galloway is right when he says walking is a whole different thing from running. Galloway is the run/walk guru. His program is based on the notion that you get major muscle, joint and cardio relief by walking periodically, and thus you can go farther and actually faster as well. Three hours after starting this run, I realized that if I ever did another marathon, it would have to be with the Galloway method.
I stumbled across the finish line in downtown Sioux City after five hours and fifteen minutes. Actually, this was quite a bit faster than I had estimated was possible when my knee pain put an end to actual running. The folks at the finish were nice. An official offered to take my camera let me run across the finish line again while she snapped my picture. There were lots of treats there, though I'd kept myself pretty well fed during the race. Robin showed up about fifteen minutes later, and we worked our way through the gauntlet of the streetside saloon, where they were giving out free pizza to runners and their families.
When we drove home that afternoon, my legs were in pretty sad shape. I limped whenever I got out of the car. But I had the satisfaction of knowing I'd hung in there and finished the race. The next day I could walk (albeit with care) and a week later my knee felt good enough that I could run a couple of miles without pain. Here's hoping for a full mend and another marathon in my future.
•Fargo Marathon, Fargo, North Dakota (May 19)
•Rhubarb days 5k in Leola, SD (June 2)
•125th Anniversary 10k, Ellendale, North Dakota (June 30)
•March for Memories 5k, Dickey County Fair, Ellendale North Dakota (July 7)
•YMCA Bull Run half marathon, Aberdeen, SD (July 28)
•Applefest 5k, Ellendale, North Dakota (September 22)
•Lewis and Clark Marathon, Sioux City, Iowa (October 20)
I recovered pretty quickly from the Fargo Marathon. The severe knee pain went away right after the race. It didn't come back until halfway through the Sioux City Marathon, the season's last event. In between, I ran three 5ks, a 10k and a half marathon. So, it's been a busy running season.
•Fargo Marathon, Fargo, North Dakota (May 19)
As I wrote in an earlier entry, this race was a success in that I finished. It was a disappointment in that it took five hours and two minutes. Looking back, it was a great inauguration into the world of marathoning.
•Rhubarb days 5k in Leola, SD (June 2)
This was early one soggy morning two weeks after the Fargo marathon. My alarm rang at five and the rain was a steady drizzle. Robin thought they'd call off the event. But I knew runners are tough. I for one was eager. So I drove the 40 miles to Leola. Robin stayed in bed.
I paid my $15 entry fee and signed a damp entry form at the back end of an SUV and waited with the other runners beneath a park shelter. Just before 7:00 the rain stopped.
The Rhubarb Days 5k was unique in that the runners piled into cars and rode to the start line. This run was a straight shot. No loops or out-and-backs, just head toward the tall grey grain elevators that mark this little town's spot on the prairie.
This was a fast race. A high school boy and a college girl took a strong lead early on. I stayed with Wayne and Neil, two local guys a bit older than myself. We were together until the last two blocks, when we broke into a sprint. Wayne beat me by a couple of lengths. Our time was amazing--just over 18 minutes! Wow! And only two weeks after having run a full marathon!
It seemed too fast to be real. Could it be a full 3.1 miles we'd run? Wayne didn't think so, and I didn't either. I drove to the start and the true distance was revealed: 2.5 miles. So the 18 minute time was not spectacular. Still, it was the fastest two and a half miles I'd ever run. I felt great.
•125th Anniversary 10k, Ellendale, North Dakota (June 30)
Ellendale had both a 5k and 10k race for its big quinticentennial celebration. Since I'd already done a full marathon and a 5k, I thought the 10k was my proper challenge. And a challenge it was! It was hard work.
At the turn around point three miles east of town, I thought I might quit. But I pushed on and did the second half almost as fast as the first half. My time was 48 minutes. That was almost 5 minutes faster than the 10k I'd done as an open runner at a Jamestown College track meet in April. I felt pretty good that day.
Robin ran the 5k race, her first ever. Her time was a little over 26 minutes--first place in her age category!•March for Memories 5k, Dickey County Fair, Ellendale North Dakota (July 7)
This was the one year anniversary of my first ever 5k race. Robin and I both ran it. So did our eight year old son Owen. We each took second place! And we each got a cash prize, which paid for our entry fees! Wow!
•YMCA Bull Run half marathon, Aberdeen, SD (July 28)
When I first heard about this run a year earlier, I knew I wanted to be in it. Just the name sounds great. You'd have to be really tough (like a bull) to run this one, right?
The end of July is normally pretty around here. So I did some moderate training in the mid-day sun. But the day of the race wasn't too hot. And besides, the race started at 7:00 A.M.
I'd just purchased my most expensive running accessory to date--a Garmin Forerunner 305, which my daughter Emily calls my "nerdy watch." With a little help from that device, and a lot of guts and determination, I managed an 8:02 pace, for a one hour, 44 minute finishing time.
This was probably the most draining race I've ever done. That afternoon I reclined in our little Ford Escort, nursing my cramps and aches, while Robin and the boys toured the local fun park. The feeling I had was of having been through a couple hours of torture, and enjoying the fact that I wasn't being tortured anymore.
•Applefest 5k, Ellendale, North Dakota (September 22)
This was in one way the best of my summer races. After all, I won it! My two closest competitors were both Trinity students, both about 20 years younger than myself. My time was 21:33. That was 35 seconds faster than my previous 5k best.
I'd trained hard, hoping to come in under 21 minutes. But I realized something during this race: running just ten seconds faster per mile requires a significant increase in effort and energy expenditure. I'd done quite a bit of speed training, but I guess wasn't quite ready to run a sub-twenty one 5k. Maybe next year.
For winning the Applefest race, I got a big trophy--a cast metal statue of a very tough looking runner.
•Lewis and Clark Marathon, Sioux City, Iowa (Saturday, October 20)
Robin and I decided to use this race as an excuse for a vacation getaway, so we left all the kids at home. We like to do practical things on our vacations, so we planned to purchase a 4 x 8 trailer Harbor Freight in Sioux City. We'd bolt it together and pull it home behind our little Escort. So late that afternoon we were out in a parking lot, bending over a bunch of metal rails and bolts and steel fittings.
Assembly was a little slow, and we almost missed the Friday evening pasta dinner for the runners. Fortunately, a fellow in an old pickup drove up and offered to help us put the trailer together. This guy was amazing! He took more than an hour of his own time to help us, and wouldn't take any money for it. While working together, we had an interesting discussion about family life and kids. Later his wife drove up, and so we got to meet her, too. A very nice couple!
We were a bit concerned about pulling the trailer in the dark, since we didn't have the lights installed yet. So our friends offered to drop the trailer off for us at our motel. And they did! And at the time we didn't even know their last names!
Ayway, we did get some pasta. And the next morning, we were there at 6:30 and I was ready to run. This was my first race I beginning in the dark. It was nice!
The first half of the Sioux City Marathon went smoothly. I ran with some older guys and the conversation was great. I was having such a good time with them that I did not do any walk breaks for ten miles. I made the halfway point in two hours and four minutes, and felt fine. I was--I thought--on course to run maybe a four-ten or four-twenty marathon. About mile 14 things got worse. My left knee started hurting pretty bad and I started taking walk breaks. After a couple of miles, my right knee started hurting also. Pretty soon the pain was so bad in the right knee that I imagined a screwdriver had been jabbed up under my kneecap. Every time my foot came down, it jabbed in a little farther. I slowed to a walk.
About this time, Robin met me by the side of the road. I got a little sympathy and changed from my Mizunos into my softer Asics Gel Nimbus shoes, then ran a little more. But soon I realized I had only two real options. Either walk the rest of the way or quit. With eleven miles to go, disappointment set in. I thought seriously of quitting. But then I asked myself, "what would my family think if Iquit? What would my students think?" I wouldn't quit. I'd walk instead, and watch probably a hundred runners pass me by.
After awhile I realized I still had a choice to make. Walk fast or walk slow. I found that I could take long, hard strides with very little knee pain--proof that Jeff Galloway is right when he says walking is a whole different thing from running. Galloway is the run/walk guru. His program is based on the notion that you get major muscle, joint and cardio relief by walking periodically, and thus you can go farther and actually faster as well. Three hours after starting this run, I realized that if I ever did another marathon, it would have to be with the Galloway method.
I stumbled across the finish line in downtown Sioux City after five hours and fifteen minutes. Actually, this was quite a bit faster than I had estimated was possible when my knee pain put an end to actual running. The folks at the finish were nice. An official offered to take my camera let me run across the finish line again while she snapped my picture. There were lots of treats there, though I'd kept myself pretty well fed during the race. Robin showed up about fifteen minutes later, and we worked our way through the gauntlet of the streetside saloon, where they were giving out free pizza to runners and their families.
When we drove home that afternoon, my legs were in pretty sad shape. I limped whenever I got out of the car. But I had the satisfaction of knowing I'd hung in there and finished the race. The next day I could walk (albeit with care) and a week later my knee felt good enough that I could run a couple of miles without pain. Here's hoping for a full mend and another marathon in my future.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
ROAD GRAFFITI BY THE ELLENDALE GRADUATING CLASS OF 07
One of my favorite stretches of prairie road is about 20 miles west of Ellendale. At that point, highway 11, which is about five miles from the South Dakota border, takes a sharp incline to the top of the Missouri Couteau. The Missouri Coteau is one of the four major geological boundaries in our state. East of the boundary the terrain is mostly flat. But the coteau region is hilly and rolling with lots of lakes. And lots of wildlife.
A week ago, the coteau incline on Highway 11 became home to a small work of art. The seniors at Ellendale High School painted a little mural there, pink with white outlines. Seniors everywhere have celebrated their passage with works of art. This one I though was especially noteworthy. First, it's inclusive. It's got the initials of ALL the graduating seniors. Second, it's got an explanation of the color. It should be red--the local mascot is the cardinals--but it's pink. "Wal-mart was out of red paint. O well," Says the postscript on the mural. How polite of the artists to explain their color scheme! And how very Midwestern.
I presume highway graffiti is illegal. But I doubt that any local police would have the heart to prosecute the artists. In a few months I presume the work of art will wear away. In a year it will be barely noticeable. But I bet the kids in the 2007 graduating class will remember it for decades. I won't forget it myself.
A week ago, the coteau incline on Highway 11 became home to a small work of art. The seniors at Ellendale High School painted a little mural there, pink with white outlines. Seniors everywhere have celebrated their passage with works of art. This one I though was especially noteworthy. First, it's inclusive. It's got the initials of ALL the graduating seniors. Second, it's got an explanation of the color. It should be red--the local mascot is the cardinals--but it's pink. "Wal-mart was out of red paint. O well," Says the postscript on the mural. How polite of the artists to explain their color scheme! And how very Midwestern.
I presume highway graffiti is illegal. But I doubt that any local police would have the heart to prosecute the artists. In a few months I presume the work of art will wear away. In a year it will be barely noticeable. But I bet the kids in the 2007 graduating class will remember it for decades. I won't forget it myself.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
THE FARGO MARATHON
On Saturday May 19, 2007, I participated in the Fargo Marathon, my first ever 26.2 mile race. What a memory! I saw some great sights, and met some great folks. I did a great deal of hobbling along while suffering with a great pain in my left knee. But I started at the beginning and finished at the end. So I'm calling it a success.
I first learned about the Fargo marathon from C. M. Newman, whom I met here in Ellendale last summer when I ran my first 5K race. He's an impressive runner. Lean, tanned, and serious looking and his running spandex. He looks like a professional.
Maybe the most interesting thing about C.M. is that he's in his late sixties. When I met him last June, he had just won his age division in the Fargo Marathon. I was told that he wins all the 5K races in Ellendale, usually by a big margin. I didn't know about his running exploits when I met him. In fact before last year I had never even watched a 5K race, let alone thought of running in one.
After the race (which he won easily), I started asking C.M. a lot of questions about running. He told me about the Fargo Marathon. He said it was really well organized. The start and finish were both at the Fargodome, one of the biggest arenas in the region. He said the runners got lots of encouragement and respect during and after the race. The finishers had their names called out and their images put up on the jumbotrons as they entered the dome and crossed the finish line. This all sounded sort of interesting to me. Yes, I thought, it would be great to be in this run.
As a complete beginner, I knew very little about running, but I did know that doing a marathon would require many months of preparation. I had the time, but did I have the determination? I was a little worried about the winter months. What did runners in northern latitudes do to keep themselves in shape during weeks of subzero temperatures, blizzards, howling winds and short days? C.M. had a great answer. Run. Just like normal, but wear multiple layers. Cover your face. And be careful when it's icy. C.M. said he did his six-mile routine every morning, even when the thermometer read 32 below. Wow, I thought. If a guy who's old enough to retire can run all winter, I bet I could too.
I thought about it. In September I ran the Applefest 5K race and talked with C.M. again. A few days later I decided I would start training for the Fargo Marathon. So I did start training. I ran all winter. I ran on snowpack, in fresh deep snow, in a blizzard, into stiff chilly winds, and often in the dark. And on May 19 I ran the Fargo Marathon.
The main thing I've learned about running a marathon is that the preparation--the countless afternoons and evenings of hard and easy, long and short runs--is more important than the race itself. I have really enjoyed getting to know the countryside around my little town of Ellendale. Every mile of road has its little memories.
I first learned about the Fargo marathon from C. M. Newman, whom I met here in Ellendale last summer when I ran my first 5K race. He's an impressive runner. Lean, tanned, and serious looking and his running spandex. He looks like a professional.
Maybe the most interesting thing about C.M. is that he's in his late sixties. When I met him last June, he had just won his age division in the Fargo Marathon. I was told that he wins all the 5K races in Ellendale, usually by a big margin. I didn't know about his running exploits when I met him. In fact before last year I had never even watched a 5K race, let alone thought of running in one.
After the race (which he won easily), I started asking C.M. a lot of questions about running. He told me about the Fargo Marathon. He said it was really well organized. The start and finish were both at the Fargodome, one of the biggest arenas in the region. He said the runners got lots of encouragement and respect during and after the race. The finishers had their names called out and their images put up on the jumbotrons as they entered the dome and crossed the finish line. This all sounded sort of interesting to me. Yes, I thought, it would be great to be in this run.
As a complete beginner, I knew very little about running, but I did know that doing a marathon would require many months of preparation. I had the time, but did I have the determination? I was a little worried about the winter months. What did runners in northern latitudes do to keep themselves in shape during weeks of subzero temperatures, blizzards, howling winds and short days? C.M. had a great answer. Run. Just like normal, but wear multiple layers. Cover your face. And be careful when it's icy. C.M. said he did his six-mile routine every morning, even when the thermometer read 32 below. Wow, I thought. If a guy who's old enough to retire can run all winter, I bet I could too.
I thought about it. In September I ran the Applefest 5K race and talked with C.M. again. A few days later I decided I would start training for the Fargo Marathon. So I did start training. I ran all winter. I ran on snowpack, in fresh deep snow, in a blizzard, into stiff chilly winds, and often in the dark. And on May 19 I ran the Fargo Marathon.
The main thing I've learned about running a marathon is that the preparation--the countless afternoons and evenings of hard and easy, long and short runs--is more important than the race itself. I have really enjoyed getting to know the countryside around my little town of Ellendale. Every mile of road has its little memories.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Narrative About Teaching the History of Higher Education
From: kelandsmith@gmail.com
Subject: Re: H-Ed: Discussion: A Narrative About Teaching the History of Higher Education
Date: March 29, 2007 4:23:27 PM CDT
To: H-EDUCATION@H-NET.MSU.EDU
Dear Colleagues:
This post got a little lengthy. Marvelous, isn't it, what one will do to avoid a stack of essays that need to be graded? I apologize for the length but hope that at least a few might read on with some perseverance.
I have been a member of the HES for the last 8 years or so (though I have not been able to yet attend a conference), and have read this list pretty faithfully during that time. I am happy to see the present exchange.
It's widely held view that learning is best described as collaboration--let's say "a guide to help enjoy the ride" more than "a sage on a web page." In that spirit, I appreciate the introductions and aphorisms that have been expressed by the appointed ringleaders, but I would like to "take the page" so to speak, and give my own narrative.
I don't so much want to ask questions about methods and techniques as to get folks to think about some of the preconceptions that I think are pretty common among people who teach these courses. In fact I would like to make some suggestions, perhaps by way of narration, that might highlight and possibly challenge some of these preconceptions. Partly because I understand something of the intellectual culture of this list (and which is prominent at schools of education with which I am familiar) I am not eager to directly challenge the statements of others, at least not now. I read several other H-Net lists where such direct challenges are frequent and strong. that type of exchange certainly has a place, but I have not noticed much of that on this list, so I will try my best to behave.
Who I am: I presently teach at a small church-related college in Ellendale North Dakota, where I teach six history courses (including two US History survey courses, two World Civilizations survey courses, an Asian history course, an African History Course, a Sociology course, and a Philosophy course which I have organized as a survey of intellectual history. This is probably way too many courses for one person to teach (some semesters I end up with 14 credits), but such are the realities of small institutions. I try to do my best.
In addition, every few years I have had the opportunity to teach a graduate course entitled "The History of Higher Education in the U.S." (T&L 570) as an adjunct with the University of North Dakota's College of Education and Human Development. I'll be teaching that course again this summer, inshallah.
Before I launch into my own ideas and suggestions and challenges, I would like to talk about my own background a little more. I have long believed that ideas are best understood within a context of lived experience, (even before I began hearing that as a buzzphrase) so perhaps a discussion of my own experience will be tolerated as a useful background to the points I want to get at. I will begin by describing my own graduate education.
I'm a 2001 graduate of the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks, where I earned an M.A. in history in 1998) and a D.A. (Doctor of Arts) in history in 2001. Prior to coming to UND I taught high school history and social studies for six years.
For those unfamiliar with the Doctor of Arts degree (D.A.), it is a pretty rare thing. I've only run into a handful of schools that have such a program. It's oriented toward preparing teachers of undergraduate students, and places somewhat less emphasis on narrowly focused research and somewhat more emphasis on classroom teaching. The history D.A. program at the University of North Dakota requires a minimum of five semesters of half-time GTA work, which involves a minimum of teaching one 3-credit course per semester for four semesters and one full-time semester of teaching, wherein three 3-credit courses are taught. The research component of the D.A. program involves a dissertation that is a bit less rigorous than those of typical Ph.D. programs, and it is typically directed toward themes that are seen to be more pedagogically relevant than might be expected in a history Ph.D. program.
Now, to the focus on higher education history within my own graduate experience.
D.A. students are required to have a "cognate" in another academic department to complement their work within the history department. I chose to take my cognate in the UND School of Education. The first course I took was a graduate course in the History of Higher Education course. It met once per week for three hours. I enjoyed the course, however it was dramatically different from the classes and seminars within the UND History Department. The course did have a research component, requiring one or two papers and some smaller assignments. But we basically read through Rudolph's _The American College and University_, discussing one or two chapters a week, and the content was stimulating enough for us to have some excellent discussions. The professor who taught the course was and is a fine person and a fine teacher, and did show a real interest in history. I thought that with some added background knowledge and historiographical understanding, however, the class would have been quite a bit better.
One of the aspects of this course that motivated me was reading and critiquing Rudolph's classic book, which I am told has been used in more history of higher ed. courses than just about book in the last fifty years, but is now succumbing to newer interpretations. It so happened that I was working on my M.A. thesis at the time. The thesis was a biography of William Maxwell Blackburn, who served as the first president of the University of North Dakota (1884-1885). I had spent weeks at the South Dakota State Historical Society Archives in Pierre in Blackburn's papers, and for me he was turning into an extremely interesting person. I discovered that Rudolph mentioned Blackburn several times in _The American College and University_. This was interesting. What was more interesting, though, was that every reference to Blackburn in Rudolph's book was either demonstrably false or set within a very distorted context. What had happened is that Rudolph got his information about Blackburn (very selectively, I might add) from Louis Geiger's institutional history entitled _University of the Northern Plains_. Rudolph had used this selective information to further a certain caricature of Blackburn, a caricature that I found (and I believe I have conclusively proven) to be quite inaccurate.
Now, this was motivating to me. If Rudolph was demonstrably painting a false picture in the case of Blackburn, what of the many other characters and scenes in the book? I become more aware of the potential for errors that stem from the lack of firsthand empirical investigation. And of the distorting influence that results from casually accepting reigning historiographical assumptions and reading them into the past.
Probably my favorite book that I discovered that year was Colin Burke's _American Collegiate Populations: A Test of the Traditional View_. I liked it not because I necessarily enjoy looking at pages and pages of data charts, but because it used very thorough empirical study to debunk what at the time was the politically correct view of the development of American Colleges and Universities. I cheered regularly as I read through it, charts and all. By the way, I was excited to see Colin Burke's name on this list recently. If you are reading this, Colin, thank you for your contribution to my education.
Now back to the original history of higher education course in which I was a student. The most memorable event in the course was I guess what you would call a "constructivist" presentation by one of the students. She had I think a couple of decades of experience in teaching and administration at tribal schools, and she wanted the class to experience something of Indian culture. So we spent about an hour and a half on the extremely relevant topic of Indian fry bread. We all participated in things like mixing up the flour, salt and sundry ingredients, heating up the frying oil, shaping the dough, getting it out of the hot oil, serving it, and of course, eating it. That last was the best part. We did learn that Indian fry bread was not a truly native product, but an aspect of reservation culture (which relied largely on cheap foodstuffs sent in by government agencies). That was a valuable bit of knowledge. What we learned beyond that, I can't exactly remember. But, as the saying goes, a good time was had by all.
I mention this experience with the fry bread because I think it illustrates something important about the culture of learning that exists in many if not most schools of education. Nothing of this nature would have occurred (at least during class time) in any of my courses in the UND history department. But it was, as I found, rather normal and even frequent in the school of education. Without trying to invoke any sharp criticism upon this exercise or the person who led it, I can only say that it seemed to me to reflect a marked preference for immediate experience over factual knowledge. I ate fry bread (and probably more than my share) but I took very little knowledge from the experience. I would have much preferred a carefully designed lecture--yes, a lecture, and one rich in facts (not factoids, as they are sometimes impolitely called)--dealing with the very interesting history of native American schooling. As it was, I left the class with my stomach fuller and my mind not much fuller. The next day I was hungry again.
Anyway, I did benefit from the course, even if some of the sessions raised in my mind serious questions about content matter versus "lived experience." I did a lot of reading, most memorably John Henry Newman's _The Idea of a University_, and I wrote a paper tracing out the life of this important educator and his basic ideas. This in turn led me to Clark Kerr's _Uses of the University_ and a whole range of books and articles that in various ways filled in blank spaces between the two very different approaches and presuppositions (not to mention widely divergent historical circumstances) of these two thinkers. So I look back on the course with appreciation.
In the fall of 2000 (2 years later) I was asked to teach this same graduate course myself. The previous professor had a busy schedule, and we had discussed my master's thesis on William Blackburn and my doctoral thesis on UND's Joseph Kennedy (1858-1937), the primary founder of UND's School of Education and the person I like to dub "the father of progressive education in North Dakota." Furthermore, I had designed and taught an undergraduate course grandly entitled "The History of the University: Higher Education in the West" (which I taught under the purview of the UND History Department), and that course went over quite well. And so, I was allowed the rare privilege of teaching a graduate course before having even completed my doctorate.
Previous to teaching the course in 2000, I had done a good deal more reading in the history of higher education. For example, I put a lot of wear and tear on the Chester Fritz Library's two-volumes of Hofstadter's documentary collection on the history of American higher education. Later I bought my own volumes of Hofstadter and put a lot of wear on them as well. I became fascinated with the evolution of the German university ideal and with its influence on American university pioneers, just as I had earlier been fascinated with the Scottish Common Sense and Atlantic Evangelical influence on an earlier generation of college leaders. I discovered and devoured many of the writings of Robert Maynard Hutchins, and found more substantial grounds for my long-held evaluation of John Dewey as a second-rate thinker and a third or fourth-rate writer.
My graduate course seemed to be a great success. In the end I was pelted with all sorts of compliments from the participants. "Next time you teach this course, don't change a thing," wrote one enthusiastic participant. Since I'd been rather hesitant to break the mold of the previous course, I had assigned Rudolph's book, along with numerous additional readings (most of them open source). I found I was able to keep the flow of thought and discourse moving in interesting directions. I was at first a bit worried about one participant, a public school math teacher who was utterly enamoured of the "constructivist" approach to knowledge, an approach which I regarded (and still regard) as a potential invitation to anti-intellectualism and scholarly laziness. But I suggested that he "construct" an imaginary university and write its history, following the transition from denominational frontier college to secular liberal arts college, to burgeoning University. He did just that. It was a reasonably good paper, and it demonstrated considerable knowledge and creativity.
One of the exercises I created for the course was a little bit deceptive, but I thought it was interesting. I scoured books by Hutchins and Dewey for relevant quotes dealing with, on the one hand, the importance of democratic schooling, and on the other, the virtues of older, more elitist concepts of learning. I assembled the quotes on several pages, and after a short lecture discussing the University of Chicago controversies of the 1930s and 1940s over educational philosophy, I asked students to decide which quotes belonged to Dewey and which quotes belonged to Hutchins. Most of the participants had the quotes pretty evenly divided, attributing the democratic-sounding ones to Dewey and the elitist ones to Hutchins. One woman, who I think may have had an inside track to my own predelictions, got suspicious. She concluded that ALL of the quotes belonged to Hutchins, and none of them were Dewey's. And of course she was right. And she and the others understood my point. I'm not sure if I convinced anyone to share my take on the monumental cased Hutchins v. Dewey (an academic, not a legal case), but at least we had a great discussion.
At the end of the course, I felt the participants gained a lot of important basic knowledge, and made pretty good use of that knowledge in their writing and discussing. I was happy.
In 2002, after I had begun teaching full time at a small denominational college of my own, I was asked to again teach my UND graduate course. This time, I had a "cohort" of 25 students for a three-week summer course. This was surprisingly large for a doctoral seminar (I had about ten in my previous grad course). All 25 were enrolled in UND's "Ph.D. in Higher Education" program.
I had been taught in the course of my history studies that that doctoral courses need to have significant reading and writing requirements, and I figured that the term "Ph.D." ought to mean something more than having endured a long series of bull sessions. Anyway, I had the participants read Christopher Lucas' _American Higher Education: A History_, Helen Lefkowitz Horowitz's _Campus Life_ and the latest edition of Clark Kerr's _The Uses of the University_, and read and review their choice from a list of about 25 relevant titles focusing on a variety of themes in the history of higher education. I dispensed with Rudolph, a book I had long ago concluded was too deeply flawed to be acceptable in the 21st century. Some of the participants thought the reading was way too heavy, and apparently some did not like my written examinations, which I gave at the end of each week (and then spent the whole weekend reading them and writing comments in the margins). But overall we got on quite well. One of the participants even plowed through Burtchaell's massive tome _Dying of the Light_, and she seemed to get a lot out of it.
One thing that helped with the class was that I was able to win over the ostensible intellectual leader of the cohort, a fiftyish ex-priest and professor from a Catholic university in Bismarck. He had actually taught for a spell at the University of Chicago as well as some prestigious Catholic institutions, but had never quite finished his Ph.D. He was initially very skeptical of me. But after a few days of lectures and interactions, he was very much with me and helping lead the rest of the class along. Though Leonard's politics differed from mine, we became great friends, and we still correspond regularly. He had nothing but praise for the course, and called it the high point of his coursework in the UND Ph.D. program. Again, I was happy. It was a high point for me, too.
An important aspect of course in the history of higher education is that I designed it originally as an undergraduate lecture course, and when I developed it into a graduate course, I kept a strong emphasis on the lecture component. I often hear and read comments about how lecturing is the worst way to teach, how that nobody learns anything from a lecture, and how that lecturing is a 19th century approach that is quite out of place in the 21st century classroom. I disagree. I have spent days writing and refining single lectures, turning over facts, ideas and expressions in my mind countless times. And sometimes throwing out large parts and starting over from scratch when new information or insights arrived. The process has consumed massive amounts of time, but it has enabled me to become a far better thinker and a far better teacher. I am convinced that one of the greatest weaknesses in history teaching (and maybe in teaching generally) stems from inadequate time allotted for this sort of constant pursuit of information and ideas, and for the lengthy processing of them both within the mind and on paper (or, more exactly, a computer screen).
I have often thought of William Blackburn's description of his favorite teacher, the 1840s Indiana frontier schoolmaster whose complete mastery of his subjects and ease in teaching inspired Blackburn to a life in academics. "His searching questions," wrote Blackburn, "started new thoughts in our minds, and before we knew it we were questioning him, and proposing illustrations drawn from our daily lives. We racked our brains for questions to ask him, and for illustrations to which he imparted more meaning than we were likely to perceive. His individuality gave life to every lesson." Blackburn summed this teacher's curriculum nicely, saying that this fine teacher had "had melted and moulded its gold into his own coin."
I have reached the end of my permissable alloted time, and must cease typing. I hope to resume with a post in a few days. I will entitle "to melt and mold curricular gold into one's own coin." I have no idea whether the referees of this list will see fit to distribute it, or if they do, whether anybody will read it. But I have rather enjoyed writing this, as a substitute for grading papers.
Best to all,
Ken Smith
Subject: Re: H-Ed: Discussion: A Narrative About Teaching the History of Higher Education
Date: March 29, 2007 4:23:27 PM CDT
To: H-EDUCATION@H-NET.MSU.EDU
Dear Colleagues:
This post got a little lengthy. Marvelous, isn't it, what one will do to avoid a stack of essays that need to be graded? I apologize for the length but hope that at least a few might read on with some perseverance.
I have been a member of the HES for the last 8 years or so (though I have not been able to yet attend a conference), and have read this list pretty faithfully during that time. I am happy to see the present exchange.
It's widely held view that learning is best described as collaboration--let's say "a guide to help enjoy the ride" more than "a sage on a web page." In that spirit, I appreciate the introductions and aphorisms that have been expressed by the appointed ringleaders, but I would like to "take the page" so to speak, and give my own narrative.
I don't so much want to ask questions about methods and techniques as to get folks to think about some of the preconceptions that I think are pretty common among people who teach these courses. In fact I would like to make some suggestions, perhaps by way of narration, that might highlight and possibly challenge some of these preconceptions. Partly because I understand something of the intellectual culture of this list (and which is prominent at schools of education with which I am familiar) I am not eager to directly challenge the statements of others, at least not now. I read several other H-Net lists where such direct challenges are frequent and strong. that type of exchange certainly has a place, but I have not noticed much of that on this list, so I will try my best to behave.
Who I am: I presently teach at a small church-related college in Ellendale North Dakota, where I teach six history courses (including two US History survey courses, two World Civilizations survey courses, an Asian history course, an African History Course, a Sociology course, and a Philosophy course which I have organized as a survey of intellectual history. This is probably way too many courses for one person to teach (some semesters I end up with 14 credits), but such are the realities of small institutions. I try to do my best.
In addition, every few years I have had the opportunity to teach a graduate course entitled "The History of Higher Education in the U.S." (T&L 570) as an adjunct with the University of North Dakota's College of Education and Human Development. I'll be teaching that course again this summer, inshallah.
Before I launch into my own ideas and suggestions and challenges, I would like to talk about my own background a little more. I have long believed that ideas are best understood within a context of lived experience, (even before I began hearing that as a buzzphrase) so perhaps a discussion of my own experience will be tolerated as a useful background to the points I want to get at. I will begin by describing my own graduate education.
I'm a 2001 graduate of the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks, where I earned an M.A. in history in 1998) and a D.A. (Doctor of Arts) in history in 2001. Prior to coming to UND I taught high school history and social studies for six years.
For those unfamiliar with the Doctor of Arts degree (D.A.), it is a pretty rare thing. I've only run into a handful of schools that have such a program. It's oriented toward preparing teachers of undergraduate students, and places somewhat less emphasis on narrowly focused research and somewhat more emphasis on classroom teaching. The history D.A. program at the University of North Dakota requires a minimum of five semesters of half-time GTA work, which involves a minimum of teaching one 3-credit course per semester for four semesters and one full-time semester of teaching, wherein three 3-credit courses are taught. The research component of the D.A. program involves a dissertation that is a bit less rigorous than those of typical Ph.D. programs, and it is typically directed toward themes that are seen to be more pedagogically relevant than might be expected in a history Ph.D. program.
Now, to the focus on higher education history within my own graduate experience.
D.A. students are required to have a "cognate" in another academic department to complement their work within the history department. I chose to take my cognate in the UND School of Education. The first course I took was a graduate course in the History of Higher Education course. It met once per week for three hours. I enjoyed the course, however it was dramatically different from the classes and seminars within the UND History Department. The course did have a research component, requiring one or two papers and some smaller assignments. But we basically read through Rudolph's _The American College and University_, discussing one or two chapters a week, and the content was stimulating enough for us to have some excellent discussions. The professor who taught the course was and is a fine person and a fine teacher, and did show a real interest in history. I thought that with some added background knowledge and historiographical understanding, however, the class would have been quite a bit better.
One of the aspects of this course that motivated me was reading and critiquing Rudolph's classic book, which I am told has been used in more history of higher ed. courses than just about book in the last fifty years, but is now succumbing to newer interpretations. It so happened that I was working on my M.A. thesis at the time. The thesis was a biography of William Maxwell Blackburn, who served as the first president of the University of North Dakota (1884-1885). I had spent weeks at the South Dakota State Historical Society Archives in Pierre in Blackburn's papers, and for me he was turning into an extremely interesting person. I discovered that Rudolph mentioned Blackburn several times in _The American College and University_. This was interesting. What was more interesting, though, was that every reference to Blackburn in Rudolph's book was either demonstrably false or set within a very distorted context. What had happened is that Rudolph got his information about Blackburn (very selectively, I might add) from Louis Geiger's institutional history entitled _University of the Northern Plains_. Rudolph had used this selective information to further a certain caricature of Blackburn, a caricature that I found (and I believe I have conclusively proven) to be quite inaccurate.
Now, this was motivating to me. If Rudolph was demonstrably painting a false picture in the case of Blackburn, what of the many other characters and scenes in the book? I become more aware of the potential for errors that stem from the lack of firsthand empirical investigation. And of the distorting influence that results from casually accepting reigning historiographical assumptions and reading them into the past.
Probably my favorite book that I discovered that year was Colin Burke's _American Collegiate Populations: A Test of the Traditional View_. I liked it not because I necessarily enjoy looking at pages and pages of data charts, but because it used very thorough empirical study to debunk what at the time was the politically correct view of the development of American Colleges and Universities. I cheered regularly as I read through it, charts and all. By the way, I was excited to see Colin Burke's name on this list recently. If you are reading this, Colin, thank you for your contribution to my education.
Now back to the original history of higher education course in which I was a student. The most memorable event in the course was I guess what you would call a "constructivist" presentation by one of the students. She had I think a couple of decades of experience in teaching and administration at tribal schools, and she wanted the class to experience something of Indian culture. So we spent about an hour and a half on the extremely relevant topic of Indian fry bread. We all participated in things like mixing up the flour, salt and sundry ingredients, heating up the frying oil, shaping the dough, getting it out of the hot oil, serving it, and of course, eating it. That last was the best part. We did learn that Indian fry bread was not a truly native product, but an aspect of reservation culture (which relied largely on cheap foodstuffs sent in by government agencies). That was a valuable bit of knowledge. What we learned beyond that, I can't exactly remember. But, as the saying goes, a good time was had by all.
I mention this experience with the fry bread because I think it illustrates something important about the culture of learning that exists in many if not most schools of education. Nothing of this nature would have occurred (at least during class time) in any of my courses in the UND history department. But it was, as I found, rather normal and even frequent in the school of education. Without trying to invoke any sharp criticism upon this exercise or the person who led it, I can only say that it seemed to me to reflect a marked preference for immediate experience over factual knowledge. I ate fry bread (and probably more than my share) but I took very little knowledge from the experience. I would have much preferred a carefully designed lecture--yes, a lecture, and one rich in facts (not factoids, as they are sometimes impolitely called)--dealing with the very interesting history of native American schooling. As it was, I left the class with my stomach fuller and my mind not much fuller. The next day I was hungry again.
Anyway, I did benefit from the course, even if some of the sessions raised in my mind serious questions about content matter versus "lived experience." I did a lot of reading, most memorably John Henry Newman's _The Idea of a University_, and I wrote a paper tracing out the life of this important educator and his basic ideas. This in turn led me to Clark Kerr's _Uses of the University_ and a whole range of books and articles that in various ways filled in blank spaces between the two very different approaches and presuppositions (not to mention widely divergent historical circumstances) of these two thinkers. So I look back on the course with appreciation.
In the fall of 2000 (2 years later) I was asked to teach this same graduate course myself. The previous professor had a busy schedule, and we had discussed my master's thesis on William Blackburn and my doctoral thesis on UND's Joseph Kennedy (1858-1937), the primary founder of UND's School of Education and the person I like to dub "the father of progressive education in North Dakota." Furthermore, I had designed and taught an undergraduate course grandly entitled "The History of the University: Higher Education in the West" (which I taught under the purview of the UND History Department), and that course went over quite well. And so, I was allowed the rare privilege of teaching a graduate course before having even completed my doctorate.
Previous to teaching the course in 2000, I had done a good deal more reading in the history of higher education. For example, I put a lot of wear and tear on the Chester Fritz Library's two-volumes of Hofstadter's documentary collection on the history of American higher education. Later I bought my own volumes of Hofstadter and put a lot of wear on them as well. I became fascinated with the evolution of the German university ideal and with its influence on American university pioneers, just as I had earlier been fascinated with the Scottish Common Sense and Atlantic Evangelical influence on an earlier generation of college leaders. I discovered and devoured many of the writings of Robert Maynard Hutchins, and found more substantial grounds for my long-held evaluation of John Dewey as a second-rate thinker and a third or fourth-rate writer.
My graduate course seemed to be a great success. In the end I was pelted with all sorts of compliments from the participants. "Next time you teach this course, don't change a thing," wrote one enthusiastic participant. Since I'd been rather hesitant to break the mold of the previous course, I had assigned Rudolph's book, along with numerous additional readings (most of them open source). I found I was able to keep the flow of thought and discourse moving in interesting directions. I was at first a bit worried about one participant, a public school math teacher who was utterly enamoured of the "constructivist" approach to knowledge, an approach which I regarded (and still regard) as a potential invitation to anti-intellectualism and scholarly laziness. But I suggested that he "construct" an imaginary university and write its history, following the transition from denominational frontier college to secular liberal arts college, to burgeoning University. He did just that. It was a reasonably good paper, and it demonstrated considerable knowledge and creativity.
One of the exercises I created for the course was a little bit deceptive, but I thought it was interesting. I scoured books by Hutchins and Dewey for relevant quotes dealing with, on the one hand, the importance of democratic schooling, and on the other, the virtues of older, more elitist concepts of learning. I assembled the quotes on several pages, and after a short lecture discussing the University of Chicago controversies of the 1930s and 1940s over educational philosophy, I asked students to decide which quotes belonged to Dewey and which quotes belonged to Hutchins. Most of the participants had the quotes pretty evenly divided, attributing the democratic-sounding ones to Dewey and the elitist ones to Hutchins. One woman, who I think may have had an inside track to my own predelictions, got suspicious. She concluded that ALL of the quotes belonged to Hutchins, and none of them were Dewey's. And of course she was right. And she and the others understood my point. I'm not sure if I convinced anyone to share my take on the monumental cased Hutchins v. Dewey (an academic, not a legal case), but at least we had a great discussion.
At the end of the course, I felt the participants gained a lot of important basic knowledge, and made pretty good use of that knowledge in their writing and discussing. I was happy.
In 2002, after I had begun teaching full time at a small denominational college of my own, I was asked to again teach my UND graduate course. This time, I had a "cohort" of 25 students for a three-week summer course. This was surprisingly large for a doctoral seminar (I had about ten in my previous grad course). All 25 were enrolled in UND's "Ph.D. in Higher Education" program.
I had been taught in the course of my history studies that that doctoral courses need to have significant reading and writing requirements, and I figured that the term "Ph.D." ought to mean something more than having endured a long series of bull sessions. Anyway, I had the participants read Christopher Lucas' _American Higher Education: A History_, Helen Lefkowitz Horowitz's _Campus Life_ and the latest edition of Clark Kerr's _The Uses of the University_, and read and review their choice from a list of about 25 relevant titles focusing on a variety of themes in the history of higher education. I dispensed with Rudolph, a book I had long ago concluded was too deeply flawed to be acceptable in the 21st century. Some of the participants thought the reading was way too heavy, and apparently some did not like my written examinations, which I gave at the end of each week (and then spent the whole weekend reading them and writing comments in the margins). But overall we got on quite well. One of the participants even plowed through Burtchaell's massive tome _Dying of the Light_, and she seemed to get a lot out of it.
One thing that helped with the class was that I was able to win over the ostensible intellectual leader of the cohort, a fiftyish ex-priest and professor from a Catholic university in Bismarck. He had actually taught for a spell at the University of Chicago as well as some prestigious Catholic institutions, but had never quite finished his Ph.D. He was initially very skeptical of me. But after a few days of lectures and interactions, he was very much with me and helping lead the rest of the class along. Though Leonard's politics differed from mine, we became great friends, and we still correspond regularly. He had nothing but praise for the course, and called it the high point of his coursework in the UND Ph.D. program. Again, I was happy. It was a high point for me, too.
An important aspect of course in the history of higher education is that I designed it originally as an undergraduate lecture course, and when I developed it into a graduate course, I kept a strong emphasis on the lecture component. I often hear and read comments about how lecturing is the worst way to teach, how that nobody learns anything from a lecture, and how that lecturing is a 19th century approach that is quite out of place in the 21st century classroom. I disagree. I have spent days writing and refining single lectures, turning over facts, ideas and expressions in my mind countless times. And sometimes throwing out large parts and starting over from scratch when new information or insights arrived. The process has consumed massive amounts of time, but it has enabled me to become a far better thinker and a far better teacher. I am convinced that one of the greatest weaknesses in history teaching (and maybe in teaching generally) stems from inadequate time allotted for this sort of constant pursuit of information and ideas, and for the lengthy processing of them both within the mind and on paper (or, more exactly, a computer screen).
I have often thought of William Blackburn's description of his favorite teacher, the 1840s Indiana frontier schoolmaster whose complete mastery of his subjects and ease in teaching inspired Blackburn to a life in academics. "His searching questions," wrote Blackburn, "started new thoughts in our minds, and before we knew it we were questioning him, and proposing illustrations drawn from our daily lives. We racked our brains for questions to ask him, and for illustrations to which he imparted more meaning than we were likely to perceive. His individuality gave life to every lesson." Blackburn summed this teacher's curriculum nicely, saying that this fine teacher had "had melted and moulded its gold into his own coin."
I have reached the end of my permissable alloted time, and must cease typing. I hope to resume with a post in a few days. I will entitle "to melt and mold curricular gold into one's own coin." I have no idea whether the referees of this list will see fit to distribute it, or if they do, whether anybody will read it. But I have rather enjoyed writing this, as a substitute for grading papers.
Best to all,
Ken Smith
Friday, January 5, 2007
LATE AFTERNOON RUN, JANUARY 5 2007
Here I am out for the late afternoon run, about a mile and a half east of Ellendale. For today's four-mile run, I took my rather bulky camera along, so it got bounced around a bit. I enjoy running on the snow, as long as it's not more than a few inches deep. A week ago we had our first real snow of the season--about six inches. I was out running (six and a half miles) as soon as the snow stopped, which was at night. I had to wear my work boots because I did not want to get snow in with my socks. Also, I wore my Yak Traks, which are a sort of snow-tread device that fits around the soles of shoes. The next day I was back to my regular running shoes (an older pair), which were pretty well soaked when I got home.
Speed work is harder on snowy and icy surfaces. I don't particularly want to fall down. So far in my short running career, I have not fallen down.
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