Enter graduate school and, sooner or later, you will run across a research piece that leads you to question who thought it would be a good idea to study the obvious. I ran across one such article in a Public Relations Theory class, an article that upheld the Curmudgeon Theory. That is the one that demands each generation to think poorly of the one that succeeds it. In this case, PR practitioners of the Baby Boomer variety do not think highly of Generation Y, or Millenials, if you prefer.
This distaste was based on the elders' belief that Millenials enter the workplace with out-sized senses of entitlement and self-importance. Gee, now where do you imagine those who have those things got them? Couldn't be from being reared by members of the same generation that is doing the complaining, could it? All those "spoiled" kids are the result of an atmosphere in which everyone got a trophy, score was not kept, high schools had multiple valedictorians, and all kids were treated as future kings and presidents. The remarkable thing isn't that the older set views the younger with a jaundiced eye, it's that the Millenials are able to function as well as they do. Few generations tried harder to ruin childhood than the same Boomers now whining about young 'uns.
The predictability in the study is that EVERY generation gripes about the one that follows it, whether the "problem" is tastes in music, hairstyles, clothing, or friends. And, this works both ways; young people like to think they're getting over on their parents. They're not; just like the youth of my day did not invent rebellious behavior, and neither did my parents. Or their parents. The bar of permissibility has changed but, again, whose fault is that?
I have high hopes for the Millenials, partly because I have two sons and two step-daughters in their ranks and partly because I am surrounded by them all day. These are not brats-in-waiting; they are sharp, motivated people. Sure, they're different from my generation but they are supposed to be. Their experiences and the things they have been exposed to are different, as those things were different in my childhood as compared to my parents.
The one surprising thing (at least to me though I am probably wrong) is that Millenials were found to be averse to conflict, a bit startling considering that their parents' generation practically invented youthful conflict. Then again, those same parents likely overcompensated, so busy wanting to be their children's friend that they ignored being mothers and fathers. The real study here may be that more Millenials are not in need of therapy. Good thing. My retirement years depend on their productivity.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
The ABCs of APA
It is not that APA writing style is particularly difficult, it is that this method is complicated, particularly for a newcomer. On each of my first two papers, I may have spent as much time on the stylistics imposed by APA requirements as with the substance of the actual writing. Yes, I get the point; these are research-based works and citation of sources is necessary so anyone curious about a particular point that is made can easily track that information down. Still, it is quite foreign when compared to anything else I have ever written and, like so many other things associated with grad school, has taken some adjustment.
The one aspect of APA that practically leaps off the page at both reader and writer is how seemingly everything, no matter how innocuous, is treated as worthy of citation with author, publication, date, and page number. I half expect to find a paper that includes a source to justify the claim of the sun rising in the east. Shouldn't some things be considered public knowledge, facts established beyond any hint of doubt?
For example, I recently did a literature review on envy between siblings. Every article I looked at included a citation for stating that a sibling relationship is usually the longest-lasting relationship any of us has. That seems obvious, doesn't it? The age difference puts a limit on one's relationship with parents; even the best of marriages won't start until a person is over 20; and, friendships also have built-in chronological limitations. Apparently not good enough.
Can't help but reminisce on occasion about the relative freedom of writing a 750-word column where the only requirement was writing something that others would actually want to read and, if all went really well, be moved enough by it to write a letter to the editor to either hail the piece or condemn it. I have had folks do both and have no particular preference as to which tack readers take. Both are satisfying in that 1) people took the time to read something I wrote and 2) took a bit more time to think about it and formulate an opinion of their own.
To a degree, I suppose APA sets the tone for similar results among academics. They read another's published work, see where material and information came from, scour through the actual piece and possibly some of the sources, and find themselves intrigued enough by the subject matter to attempt to move the discussion further along by doing their own study. None of this is meant as a complaint; it is simply an observation from someone new to the style. I'll get better at it and fully expect to be able to justify each of its requirements as more assignments are completed. A former colleague of mine may have been thinking of APA in saying "learning never ends, but will time?"
The one aspect of APA that practically leaps off the page at both reader and writer is how seemingly everything, no matter how innocuous, is treated as worthy of citation with author, publication, date, and page number. I half expect to find a paper that includes a source to justify the claim of the sun rising in the east. Shouldn't some things be considered public knowledge, facts established beyond any hint of doubt?
For example, I recently did a literature review on envy between siblings. Every article I looked at included a citation for stating that a sibling relationship is usually the longest-lasting relationship any of us has. That seems obvious, doesn't it? The age difference puts a limit on one's relationship with parents; even the best of marriages won't start until a person is over 20; and, friendships also have built-in chronological limitations. Apparently not good enough.
Can't help but reminisce on occasion about the relative freedom of writing a 750-word column where the only requirement was writing something that others would actually want to read and, if all went really well, be moved enough by it to write a letter to the editor to either hail the piece or condemn it. I have had folks do both and have no particular preference as to which tack readers take. Both are satisfying in that 1) people took the time to read something I wrote and 2) took a bit more time to think about it and formulate an opinion of their own.
To a degree, I suppose APA sets the tone for similar results among academics. They read another's published work, see where material and information came from, scour through the actual piece and possibly some of the sources, and find themselves intrigued enough by the subject matter to attempt to move the discussion further along by doing their own study. None of this is meant as a complaint; it is simply an observation from someone new to the style. I'll get better at it and fully expect to be able to justify each of its requirements as more assignments are completed. A former colleague of mine may have been thinking of APA in saying "learning never ends, but will time?"
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
They said it would happen
And, they were right. "They", in this case, being professionals warning of the tangential effects of caring for someone with mental deterioration. The 'effect' this time was my brother, spurred into an inquisition of mom's care after her dementia made a couple of incoherent phone calls that left him upset.
Fair enough; prior to moving to Auburn, I had also gotten such calls. They leave the recipient feeling helpless and confused; they usually do NOT leave one feeling hostile or accusatory, which was the course my brother chose to take.
His belligerence stirred the Col. Nathan Jessup that lies in all of us. Jessup, if you recall, was the character played by Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men", the one whose signature line was telling the Tom Cruise character "you can't handle the truth". Not only is my brother unable to handle the truth about mom, he is denying its existence.
I will not go into details other than to say, unless you are with the deteriorating person every day, you are in a woefully weak position to judge those who are. My Jessup sentiment was along the lines of "she has to be cared for and her peculiarities accepted. Who's going to do that? You? Not so far. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. You get to sleep and rise knowing that she is taken care of yet have the audacity to gripe about that care is given. Frankly, I would prefer you just said thank you. Otherwise, take up a shift and see if your perspective doesn't change a bit."
Books on this subject are filled with tales of intrafamily strife and the theme is consistent - those on the outside have little clue as to what the inside looks and feels like, yet want to play some sort of directorial role. Look, circumstances happen in every family where one sibling or another is precluded from being an active participant. Such is the case with my brother and I don't begrudge him that. My opportunity to go to grad school was knowingly coupled with returning mom to her home; I am neither a martyr nor seeking canonization. But, reality is what it is and it cannot be seen from 300 miles away.
Fortunately, there is a vast repository of literature available, and his email and regular mailbox will fill up with both. He can choose to read them and modify his approach, or take a second pass on the path of confrontation. The latter is guaranteed to not only fail but to potentially cause irreversible harm. He's a smart guy who works in health care, no less. It is not like he lacks for resources. This should be easy to figure out. Should be. Nathan had his exercise for the week but he is manning a post.
Fair enough; prior to moving to Auburn, I had also gotten such calls. They leave the recipient feeling helpless and confused; they usually do NOT leave one feeling hostile or accusatory, which was the course my brother chose to take.
His belligerence stirred the Col. Nathan Jessup that lies in all of us. Jessup, if you recall, was the character played by Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men", the one whose signature line was telling the Tom Cruise character "you can't handle the truth". Not only is my brother unable to handle the truth about mom, he is denying its existence.
I will not go into details other than to say, unless you are with the deteriorating person every day, you are in a woefully weak position to judge those who are. My Jessup sentiment was along the lines of "she has to be cared for and her peculiarities accepted. Who's going to do that? You? Not so far. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. You get to sleep and rise knowing that she is taken care of yet have the audacity to gripe about that care is given. Frankly, I would prefer you just said thank you. Otherwise, take up a shift and see if your perspective doesn't change a bit."
Books on this subject are filled with tales of intrafamily strife and the theme is consistent - those on the outside have little clue as to what the inside looks and feels like, yet want to play some sort of directorial role. Look, circumstances happen in every family where one sibling or another is precluded from being an active participant. Such is the case with my brother and I don't begrudge him that. My opportunity to go to grad school was knowingly coupled with returning mom to her home; I am neither a martyr nor seeking canonization. But, reality is what it is and it cannot be seen from 300 miles away.
Fortunately, there is a vast repository of literature available, and his email and regular mailbox will fill up with both. He can choose to read them and modify his approach, or take a second pass on the path of confrontation. The latter is guaranteed to not only fail but to potentially cause irreversible harm. He's a smart guy who works in health care, no less. It is not like he lacks for resources. This should be easy to figure out. Should be. Nathan had his exercise for the week but he is manning a post.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The First Assignment
"Do not overthink this". With those words, the class and I were dispatched on our first writing assignment of the semester. Don't overthink it; easy for the professor to say. No one will be grading her work. Besides, who likes writing? No, wait; I do. I love writing. But, this is for academia, the kind of writing that makes one think of stuffy language, stodgy vocabulary, and stiff syntax. Isn't this exactly the sort of thing one is supposed to overthink?
It's not like the assignment snuck up on me. Reading and writing are as common to grad school as polls and pundits are to politics. The past month's volume of reading has topped that of the previous few years, without a single box score or opinion column. Still, as that noted wordsmith Dan Quayle once said - "how terrible to lose one's mind, or not have a mind at all", or words close to that. He took a catch phrase about a mind being a terrible thing to waste and absolutely butchered it. I want to avoid anything similar on this writing assignment.
I have already violated the professor's commandment. Repeatedly. But, it is a thought piece, so what else does one do except think, right? Maybe if there was no grade involved, but I checked. There will be. Seems they don't give trophies to everyone just for being on the team; they actually keep score. Hmmm; the folks in K-12 are not going to like this. They specialize in avoiding any hint at the malicious truth that all students are not created equal, to the point of having multiple valedictorians at some high schools, which totally defies the point of the word 'valedictorian'.
But I digress, which is not a part of the assignment but does provide a break from thinking about it. Now, however, I am thinking about it again - writing and re-writing witty intros, snappy transitions, and a clever ending. If I can only get those components to actually address the topic of the assignment, this will be easy. And, I can stop thinking about it. Until the next assignment.
Totally unrelated note - was anyone else embarrassed that during Saturday's game the athletic department was pushing tickets for the remaining schedule? Really? This schedule has 5 home games that are sure-fire national television attractions and we can't sell out the stadium? Sorry; I don't like it. Tennessee regularly fills up a larger venue with lesser teams; Bama has a waiting list on season tickets; and, even South Carolina has more people wanting in than seats in which to put them. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to act like you are serious. The players and coaches are doing their part. I have season ducats; do you?
It's not like the assignment snuck up on me. Reading and writing are as common to grad school as polls and pundits are to politics. The past month's volume of reading has topped that of the previous few years, without a single box score or opinion column. Still, as that noted wordsmith Dan Quayle once said - "how terrible to lose one's mind, or not have a mind at all", or words close to that. He took a catch phrase about a mind being a terrible thing to waste and absolutely butchered it. I want to avoid anything similar on this writing assignment.
I have already violated the professor's commandment. Repeatedly. But, it is a thought piece, so what else does one do except think, right? Maybe if there was no grade involved, but I checked. There will be. Seems they don't give trophies to everyone just for being on the team; they actually keep score. Hmmm; the folks in K-12 are not going to like this. They specialize in avoiding any hint at the malicious truth that all students are not created equal, to the point of having multiple valedictorians at some high schools, which totally defies the point of the word 'valedictorian'.
But I digress, which is not a part of the assignment but does provide a break from thinking about it. Now, however, I am thinking about it again - writing and re-writing witty intros, snappy transitions, and a clever ending. If I can only get those components to actually address the topic of the assignment, this will be easy. And, I can stop thinking about it. Until the next assignment.
Totally unrelated note - was anyone else embarrassed that during Saturday's game the athletic department was pushing tickets for the remaining schedule? Really? This schedule has 5 home games that are sure-fire national television attractions and we can't sell out the stadium? Sorry; I don't like it. Tennessee regularly fills up a larger venue with lesser teams; Bama has a waiting list on season tickets; and, even South Carolina has more people wanting in than seats in which to put them. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to act like you are serious. The players and coaches are doing their part. I have season ducats; do you?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The New "D" Word
If you have not already done it, you will. Sifting through the remains of a deceased parent's life can be alternatively uplifting and melancholy. There are the flora and fauna of a life well lived: the family photos - some dating back multiple generations; there is the correspondence of courtship (I know, no one wants to go here but your folks had the same thoughts you do); a sprinkling of awards, citations, and work-related commendations; and, evidence of personality traits kids tend to overlook for being too close to the person.
For instance, my father never threw away any type of paper document. Never. Anything. Not the 1985 calendar from some charity to which he contributed. Not the car insurance bill from August 1994. Not travel itineraries from years ago. Not his meanderings about which stocks might be worth buying. Nothing. I'm reasonably sure stock in the company that owns Glad went up as keepers were separated from trash.
Of course, because nature demands a certain balance, there is the flotsam and jetsam, too, such as a book called "The 36-hour Day". Which is a family guide to dealing with memory issues that can afflict the aging. Which affect my mother. Which my father kept to himself. Which adds a degree of difficulty to caring for an older parent. Which would have been good to know ahead of time.
The discovery brought a series of previous events that, at the time, seemed odd into clear focus. A bit of digging revealed a diagnosis dating back at least 5 years. Maybe keeping it to himself was Old World on dad's part; conditions of mental deterioration are hardly the stuff of dinner party conversation. In fact, they are barely discussed at all in comparison to physical ailments. Everyone knew dad had cancer; no one knew a thing about mom.
It's a bit ironic if you think about it. A generation ago, words like "cancer" and "divorce" were spoken in hushed tones, as though volume correlated to severity. Today, "alzheimer's" and "dementia" get similar treatment, though I am regularly surprised when the subject does come up by the reach of both conditions and by the common themes that permeate those who have had a family member fall under the spell of either.
I'll get into more detail on that in subsequent posts though, to date, I have been confused for my brother and for at least one person outside the family, there are regular discussions about how the house really is the house and not a "home", and various other things that, at times, defy description. The concept of the 36-hour day is beginning to make sense. Good thing I'm only a graduate student.
For instance, my father never threw away any type of paper document. Never. Anything. Not the 1985 calendar from some charity to which he contributed. Not the car insurance bill from August 1994. Not travel itineraries from years ago. Not his meanderings about which stocks might be worth buying. Nothing. I'm reasonably sure stock in the company that owns Glad went up as keepers were separated from trash.
Of course, because nature demands a certain balance, there is the flotsam and jetsam, too, such as a book called "The 36-hour Day". Which is a family guide to dealing with memory issues that can afflict the aging. Which affect my mother. Which my father kept to himself. Which adds a degree of difficulty to caring for an older parent. Which would have been good to know ahead of time.
The discovery brought a series of previous events that, at the time, seemed odd into clear focus. A bit of digging revealed a diagnosis dating back at least 5 years. Maybe keeping it to himself was Old World on dad's part; conditions of mental deterioration are hardly the stuff of dinner party conversation. In fact, they are barely discussed at all in comparison to physical ailments. Everyone knew dad had cancer; no one knew a thing about mom.
It's a bit ironic if you think about it. A generation ago, words like "cancer" and "divorce" were spoken in hushed tones, as though volume correlated to severity. Today, "alzheimer's" and "dementia" get similar treatment, though I am regularly surprised when the subject does come up by the reach of both conditions and by the common themes that permeate those who have had a family member fall under the spell of either.
I'll get into more detail on that in subsequent posts though, to date, I have been confused for my brother and for at least one person outside the family, there are regular discussions about how the house really is the house and not a "home", and various other things that, at times, defy description. The concept of the 36-hour day is beginning to make sense. Good thing I'm only a graduate student.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Transitions, changes, adjustments. oh my
At what point does class participation go from active to annoying? That mark may have been reached during my first week of classes. At least I think it was. I could be wrong; maybe the professor wasn't thinking "geez, anyone other than him want to chime in?", but that seemed to be the vibe.
A wise man once said "just because you have an opinion doesn't mean everyone else is entitled to it". Embracing that philosophy is part of my transition from the corporate arena to academia. In business, the only thing worse than a bad suggestion was the one not made. I can't help it; I am a vocal guy. Good thing, too, considering I am in the Communications and Journalism program. However, it is quite possible, likely even, that not a single of my classmates is paying for the privilege of being regaled with my thoughts and meanderings. I'll work on adding to the discussion when necessary and listening when it is not.
Transitioning is the theme of the moment. That and fitting in with the other students, age gap be damned. Probably odd for them, too, but since I am outnumbered, it makes more sense for me to adapt to the rest of the group than the other way around.
At this point, being surrounded by sharp young folks is a nice change. The blast of energy and enthusiasm are replacing the cynicism and jaded nature that can seep into the workplace after a few years of the same people doing more or less the same thing every day. It is also a good antitode for the curmudgeon streak that begins to creep up on folks whose last foray to college was for Parents' Day and whose common refrain toward the younger generation is "ah, kids today...I tell ya". The students in the Comm and Journo grad program are the type they will want to hire.
Meanwhile, the transition continues at home, too. Those who read the first episode will know what I mean; those who didn't, well, what are you waiting for?
A wise man once said "just because you have an opinion doesn't mean everyone else is entitled to it". Embracing that philosophy is part of my transition from the corporate arena to academia. In business, the only thing worse than a bad suggestion was the one not made. I can't help it; I am a vocal guy. Good thing, too, considering I am in the Communications and Journalism program. However, it is quite possible, likely even, that not a single of my classmates is paying for the privilege of being regaled with my thoughts and meanderings. I'll work on adding to the discussion when necessary and listening when it is not.
Transitioning is the theme of the moment. That and fitting in with the other students, age gap be damned. Probably odd for them, too, but since I am outnumbered, it makes more sense for me to adapt to the rest of the group than the other way around.
At this point, being surrounded by sharp young folks is a nice change. The blast of energy and enthusiasm are replacing the cynicism and jaded nature that can seep into the workplace after a few years of the same people doing more or less the same thing every day. It is also a good antitode for the curmudgeon streak that begins to creep up on folks whose last foray to college was for Parents' Day and whose common refrain toward the younger generation is "ah, kids today...I tell ya". The students in the Comm and Journo grad program are the type they will want to hire.
Meanwhile, the transition continues at home, too. Those who read the first episode will know what I mean; those who didn't, well, what are you waiting for?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
And so it begins
Periodically, life makes sure you don't get too comfortable. Or complacent, as my bride calls it. Semantics aside, if someone had asked a year ago where I would be August 2010, graduate school may not have been the last possibility, but you could see the end of the list from where it ranked. Actually, last was selling security tools for the self-storage industry which, coincidentally, is what I was doing a year ago. Not that it was a bad job; it was a great job, full of cool people with interesting stories. But, it had reached the point of being a JOB and who wants one of those.
Then, my father died, which was not totally unexpected except for the timing. And, we learned my mother, well, let's just say the cogs are not as well-oiled as they used to be. It was a curveball that would have made Sandy Koufax jealous. Yes, that is an old-guy baseball reference and your first assignment if you are not either a baseball historian or spend entirely too much time watching SportsCenter.
That led to one of those taking stock moments that are usually confined to sappy dramas on Thursday nights at 10pm, 9 o'clock Central (another thing I'm getting used to). With mom, let's just say the assisted living facility didn't take. Nice people, peace of mind to a huge degree for us, but calls home became a source of dread rather than enjoyment. As to the job, would it be any different in two years? Bigger question - would it even exist in two years?
The wheels went into motion: GRE exam, talking to my boss - who was way cool and supportive over a steak dinner (and I will miss the corporate expense account), and everyone's favorite chore of packing and moving. The latter provided ample evidence about the value of my previous job; everyone has more stuff than square footage, which is why there are almost as many self-storage operations as fast food stores.
And now, we are here - the grad returned to tackle the next rung on the academic ladder, the chief support officer and caregiver embracing new responsibilities, and a cantankerous 79-year old. For the moment, it's fair to say I am "transitioning" in numerous ways that will be covered in subsequent episodes. As a great line from a favored comedy of the past went - first, you show up; then see what happens.
Then, my father died, which was not totally unexpected except for the timing. And, we learned my mother, well, let's just say the cogs are not as well-oiled as they used to be. It was a curveball that would have made Sandy Koufax jealous. Yes, that is an old-guy baseball reference and your first assignment if you are not either a baseball historian or spend entirely too much time watching SportsCenter.
That led to one of those taking stock moments that are usually confined to sappy dramas on Thursday nights at 10pm, 9 o'clock Central (another thing I'm getting used to). With mom, let's just say the assisted living facility didn't take. Nice people, peace of mind to a huge degree for us, but calls home became a source of dread rather than enjoyment. As to the job, would it be any different in two years? Bigger question - would it even exist in two years?
The wheels went into motion: GRE exam, talking to my boss - who was way cool and supportive over a steak dinner (and I will miss the corporate expense account), and everyone's favorite chore of packing and moving. The latter provided ample evidence about the value of my previous job; everyone has more stuff than square footage, which is why there are almost as many self-storage operations as fast food stores.
And now, we are here - the grad returned to tackle the next rung on the academic ladder, the chief support officer and caregiver embracing new responsibilities, and a cantankerous 79-year old. For the moment, it's fair to say I am "transitioning" in numerous ways that will be covered in subsequent episodes. As a great line from a favored comedy of the past went - first, you show up; then see what happens.
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