My writings - and those of others.
Changes
Two articles really hit home this week showing our changing world. The first, in the New Yorker describes The End of the English Major. I was one myself, enrolling in the University of Toronto’s English Language and Literature program at Trinity College. There were 14 of us starting out in 1956 – joined by others enrolled in modern languages, history and philosophy. The entire college had an enrolment of about 900 students, about half of whom lived in residence.
There were at least six full professors of English and one lecturer who was finishing her doctorate. The program was based on historical periods, though we did not study them chronologically and very few novels studied in our final year had even been written in the twentieth century. We could walk into teaching jobs at the end of our four years after 15 weeks of training, since there were 3,000 teaching vacancies in the province. Those averse to teaching could continue in graduate studies, though few did. Some turned to library science or publishing – and a few went on to more glamorous fields like publishing and journalism.
We entered those courses with reasonable preparation in public and private high schools and had to pass entrance exams set by the province. English and history were compulsory subjects every year. Most of us had two foreign languages as well, choosing among French, German, Spanish, Latin and even Greek. There were more options among mathematics and sciences, but chances were that we had encountered at least two years of them in geometry and algebra – leaving calculus and trigonometry to the experts. General science was covered in early years and specialties in chemistry and physics followed. Geography was just coming into its own as a secondary school subject and specialists were in short supply; our high school instructor also taught at the local university. Social sciences and philosophy had to come later.
Fast forward to 2023. The New Yorker article notes that majoring in English has fallen by half in most US colleges and universities. Several factors are in play. Many students are the first in their families to pursue higher education and the focus must be on jobs. Tuition rates have skyrocketed. If one has to go where the jobs are, the fields are those known as S.T.E.M – science, technology, engineering and mathematics. The universities themselves have partnered with commercial enterprises and are strong S.T.E.M advocates. There are still plenty of graduate courses in the humanities – but almost no jobs in the academy itself.
My own journey reflects these changes without my thinking of the wider implications. Teaching jobs became redundant in the 80s and many of my out-of-work colleagues and I became arts administrators – with only on-the-job training. because university based course took until the 90e to catch up. Fascinated by the PC and later the Internet, I was later a software vendor and a business trainer with no academic training in either area, but learning on the job and moving with the times to train others in these same things. But I never lost my connection with the humanities through all this – my children pursued similar academic areas. Where they have ended up in terms of employment in most cases is more radically different from their university course work. Grandchildren have even more options – and that will be a subject for the next post.
Gatherings
Gatherings
Historians may one day examine many institutions under the categories of pre-pandemic and post pandemic. Quick development of vaccines created a very different trajectory from earlier plagues. Many of us, pre-pandemic might have encountered webinars in the business world, or tried new learning on Coursera. Most of us never heard of live-streaming before the pandemic hit – and suddenly education, performing arts and churches entered a new world.
The kind of streaming we experienced was described technically as OTT – “over the top” was not a comment on the quality of the experience, but instead the ability to receive it from any device with internet access. Suddenly the selection and choices were huge. We paid less attention to the reality that the performance might be hampered by receiving it via a digital medium.
There were all kinds of advantages initially. Social distancing cannot be accomplished in rows of close seating. We could join in from anywhere and visit places we had not frequented in years. We could reach out to people who were ill or house-bound. Rather than leaving home and having to drive or take public transit with several transfers, we could join in an instant with the pressing of a key or button. If we didn’t want to participate at the assigned time, we could even choose one of our own to go to church or attend a concert. Convenience rules
But what was perceived as a short term solution has become a permanent one for many. At the moment we perceive a need to operate in two worlds even though the online one is shrinking considerably while the in-person one may not be growing. Those eager to help us enhance our life streaming presence are now educating us in “online marketing” for church and concert lands. People like to worship or listen to music alone, they tell us. “Going” is a hassle, when it’s so much more comfortable to stay put. More and more people prefer to “watch” online. You can even do it from the coffee shop or at brunch - and on your mobile phone. Video is replacing text anyway – even on FaceBook.
But what about the disadvantages? Is the kind of community experienced when sitting among others a different one? Is a physical sense of place – school, concert hall, place of worship - important to a community as a living entity rather than a shuttered place - or one with many unfilled speaces? Is moving our bodies out of doors important to maintain our physical, emotional and spiritual health? Are fixed rituals in place and time necessary to experience life fully? Is “watching” the best way to maintain a civil society? What will be the outcome? Will more of us end up sick and shut-in?
Social - Really?
Social – Really?
Remember when you were a little kid when you were daydreaming, and a voice broke through and ordered, “Pay Attention.” Remember when we were asked to “Stand at Attention”. In those days we would have interpreted such commands as an order to focus. Now attention is a feature of the economy.
When I was musing on the role of social media during the pandemic and why a study in process has more or less ignored it thus far, the first thing to do was to have a look at my own Facebook use. Since too much scrolling down is wasting time, I limited myself to the first ten entries which were as follows: ·
Photos from a son on holiday from his university teaching post in Hong Kong in Vietnam. Well worth seeing.
Suggested: People I may know. I don’t.
Suggested: post from Julia’s Violin Academy. Not an instrument I play.
Suggested: An advertisement for a condo coming several miles north of where I live. I am not in the market for a move or purchase.
Pictures from a woman I know of herself and her sisters from several years back.
A cartoon posted by someone I know – somewhat funny
More pictures from the Vietnam visit
A somewhat sentimental piece from a family member about people he has known.
Suggested: A grocery store ad
Suggested: post of famous pianists’ hands
Perhaps 20% of this was worth my attention and time. Half were ads, none of which were appropriate.
Remember when we thought social media was wonderful and would unite us all in peace and “person-hood”. First we grabbed accounts as individuals and shared our dog, cat and children in photos. After our organizations had websites, we had to add links to social media in the hope that our world would expand far and wide. We wonder if we should boost our posts to get better readership – instead of thinking of how were are sending even more money to Meta. But is all our attention to our own bubbles blinding us to how social media has turned us as individuals and organizations into commodities? Do we just think we are promoting our personal or organizational brands while Meta laughs all the way to the bank?
The purpose of social media was never to bring us together in world peace – but to make money. Most it is owned by just one company – Meta – while a few others compete with it. The advantage over conventional advertising is the ability to direct targeted ads to specific audiences. The purpose is not to sell advertisements to us – but to sell us to advertisers.
When we don’t like all those ads they send us, we can pay to omit them or buy premium versions– thereby replacing the revenue lost from advertisers. Then they suggest boosting our organizational posts to wider audiences. Often this will include a headline only – since it is already known that 80% of headlines are the only thing read to get the brand imprinted in our brains. All the while, these companies are engaging in what is termed “surveillance capitalism” – telling the advertisers how many people are looking at their messages. Twitter apparently makes 13% of its income this way by selling the infomation back. Meanwhile the company tries to get the mix of ads and real messages just right in a Goldilocks arrangement; It looks as though from my own above history that I am a real sucker for ads, since mine start right away after the first message.
Studies have already suggested that social media is as addictive as many drugs. Younger inexperienced users are far more vulnerable that older ones to bullying and many of us have never had to endure hate messages. But we might ask why we turn to social media? Are we anxious? Lonely? Or just Bored? Do we need affirmation from others? A need to show off? People I know appear to demonstrate all these characteristics now and then. That’s their choice. But before I log in and scroll down, do I ask myself why I am there instead of somewhere better?
Practical changes
Turning to practical things I should be doing to save the planet allows a short break from thinking about other things. There is a new coach in this area in the Washington Post who is now offering weekly tips.
He points out the dilemma we continually face. One person’s actions doesn’t have a significant effect. Nevertheless, united efforts do. Anything we can do to encourage friends and colleagues to join in can help. So here is my help in spreading the news - some counter-intuitive. We live in the age of wonderful appliances that do their jobs well.
Stop pre-rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. The appliance uses less water than washing by hand and detergents are effective. Scraping is good; rinsing is unnecessary.
Turn out the lights as your parents always used to remind you to do - but recognize that this action is a minor one now with the invention of LED units. Make sure you have replaced any old ones because these new ones emit more light with only 10% of the previous electricity use. What this means is keeping up with the applications of good science from reputable sources and paying attention to it.
Pay more attention to the food on the back of the fridge shelf that may be going bad than worrying about changing the temperature. Food waste is a bigger issue.
Wash your clothes in cold water. Detergents have improved. You can also try those detergent sheets that friends of mine keep recommending. I meant to order some online but did notice them in a nearby shop so I now have no excuse to buy another of those large plastic bottles that take a lot of shelf space to transport.
Combining
As I have already said, I’ve been pondering a planning exercise with a logo, slogan, and title that comes from a story in the Bible. It’s certainly not an unusual way to go for strategic planning in church land. It’s designed to suggest a new direction coming out of a pandemic. I wonder though, if it is missing something when asking about where we are and where we are going. This was the time that our institution, along with our schools, our workplaces and our law courts became digital. You can’t start from there and get to here.
People complain now that their buildings are burdens. They were doing so before the pandemic hit because of the cost of utilities, mortgages and aging infrastructure – but at least the churches were open then. Many places of worship have been locked and mostly dark for months on end. One that I know did put a small altar inside at the entrance – and some people walked up to the closed doors to see it and said their prayers. The only other time I have observed similar behaviour was when I visited the Czech Republic during its last year under communist rule. Church vestibules were open but further entry was blocked by glass barriers. I frequently saw parents taking small children inside and whispering to explain what the spaces were about. Sometimes there were elderly ladies on their knees saying their beads inside; they must have entered defiantly through side doors but were assumed to be harmless to the regime.
For about 24 months, we couldn’t sing. Part of my working life has been administering an organization that supports choirs and I have been a lifelong chorister myself. For many, singing in any choir is a lifeline to connecting with other people; we sit physically close to one another; we listen to the nearest voice and try our best to make a blended sound. The pandemic cut the lifeline. To compensate, some singers recorded a few lines on their phones singing at home alone – heard how that single voice croaked and sounded terrible without the others – and sent a small tape to someone technically sophisticated enough to compile several files into one after dozens of hours – to be sent back out into the world as a one minute recording.
We couldn’t worship together. Clergy read lessons, preached in an empty space, conducted services with one person present and sent recordings one after another into the world. Alternatively a gathered grid of familiar faces appeared on screen. When they spoke at the same time it was a small cacophony of voices. Zoom changed from an active verb to a passive noun. You became joined to Tube – the latter used to refer to a TV screen – but no more. Or nothing happened at all.
Now we say we are coming back to normal. But what is normal about still singing or preaching through a mask? What is normal about preferring to wear pajamas while watching church online, drinking coffee and checking email at the same time? We are grateful for technology as we advertise our online services. But are we pausing to ask – who are we now? What is our work now? Where are we going? How are we using technology for our purpose? How is technology using us?