Echoes of the past

One of the more frustrating things about being a parent is learning just how little control you really have. Despite your best laid plans, there are just going to be things you can't change. This is especially true when it involves your children.

We do our best to mold our kids. We'd like for them to learn from our mistakes and live their lives without the hard lessons we might have picked up along the way. Despite our best efforts, our children are actually unique human beings on their own. While they may have at least 50% of our genes, there are no guarantees that they will approach issues in the same way that we would. Or, for that matter, the way that our spouses would!

It's a minor frustration, but it's there all the same. In private, our boys are lively and imaginative. They are playful and rather creative in their conversations. All of that flair seems to disappear the moment we introduce others into the equation. They are generally polite (although your interpretation may vary depending on when you catch them), but they are a shell of their normal selves. It's rare to get more than a handful of words out of them--and each of them are given grudgingly along the way. This obstinate performance is especially infuriating when you are with your friends or family. You want to impress them with the bright, charming young men that you have dutifully raised. Instead, you get the sullen or withdrawn lumps that could be anyone's progeny.

And then the memory struck. Out of nowhere, I suddenly flashed back to a scene from my own childhood. It was my exasperated mother looking at me with sadness in her eyes. "Why don't you ever talk to your Aunt Phyllis?" She had expected me to be my bright, charming self with her sister and I had withdrawn into that pre-teen shell just like my boys are now doing.

Maybe they are learning from me after all. I guess the only saving grace is that they may yet evolve into more enlightened forms--later.

AP or not AP may not be the question

The Brookings Institute published a paper that questions the traditional wisdom that AP courses help prepare students for college.

It cites an overemphasis on measurable statistics that are attempting to quantify the elusive nature of improved educational outcomes. The data are not encouraging:

For instance, in 2009, the U.S. Department of Education's research arm, the Institute of Education Sciences, conducted an exhaustive review of research on college preparation and found "low evidence"--the weakest category--that academic preparation for college was effective at improving classroom outcomes. The reviewed studies included a wide variety of methods of college preparation, from increasing the difficulty of academic standards to matching curricular topics to known college courses. 

These methods also notably included increasing the quantity of advanced coursework taken in high school, such as Advanced Placement classes. None of the methods was found to have a strongly predictive positive impact on college readiness.

Indeed, in 2013, Dartmouth stopped accepting Advanced Placement credits after 90 percent of students who scored a perfect "5" on the AP Psychology exam reportedly failed the university's own test.

More evidence from later in the article:

We thus examined whether these patterns held up in a nationally representative database of U.S. students progressing from high school to college in the 1990s. Analyzing thousands of transcripts from the Department of Education's National Educational Longitudinal Study, we found confirmatory evidence that advanced high school courses apparently do little to prepare students for success in college coursework.

Specifically, we showed that students with one more year of high school instruction in physics, psychology, economics, or sociology on average have grades in their first college course in the same subject just 0.003 to 0.2 points higher on a four-point scale. For example, for students of similar race, socioeconomic status, and high school standardized test scores, those who took a year of high school economics earn a final grade in their college economics class 0.03 points higher than students who have never encountered that subject before. What’s more, these trivially small differences hold even for students who took exactly the same college course.

Here is some analysis of the reasons why the authors believe this gap exists:

What can explain why high school course-taking is so weakly related to college grades, both in our study and in previous ones? It is not that high school students are not learning. Rather, it is more likely they often learn the wrong things, do not sufficiently focus on the critical thinking commonly needed in college, or simply forget much of what they learned.

For instance, the ability to analyze evidence and pen a persuasive essay is central to much of college. Most colleges mandate at least a semester course of intensive writing and argument, as it is presumed that even students from top high schools are insufficiently prepared with this essential skill.

Additionally, studies on long-term retention of high school coursework suggest that students forget much or most of what they learn. Students who remember a few basic concepts may hold a head start that quickly diminishes as college classes rush toward advanced material. The little information that is retained from high school may explain the very slight advantage from prior coursework that we observed in our study.

The authors argue for a stronger emphasis on the need for more innovation and experimentation. In other words, the jury is still out.

Here is the link to the full article:  How important are high school courses to college performance?

Sandwich Blast 2016

Over the past weekend, I got to spend a lot of quality time with Older Brother (OB). He participated in a baseball tournament held in Sandwich. We stayed at a nearby Cape Cod town of Hyannis (ancient home of the Kennedy clan). I learned a lot about my son over the course of these few days.

OB continues to mature as an athlete. Summer ball has been a bit of a transition for him. He started out as just one of the boys (instead of as an alpha dog). On the ride down to the Cape, I remarked that his team had inherited three of the better players who had been on the opposing town team the previous summer. He agreed, but grumbled that it was forcing him to the bench more often. (There are 12 kids on the team and only nine can start so the boys compete for playing time). We laughed and I told him that he simply had to raise his game! Of course, this is easier said than done.

In anticipation of this higher level of competition, we had taken some steps to prepare. Over the winter, I signed him up with one of the high school coaches for some extra batting instruction. OB has always felt that his hitting is the weakest part of his game. I watch his sweet swing and disagree, but given his early struggles in spring ball it would be hard to dispute the evidence.

At the start of summer ball, OB was generally batting somewhere between seventh and ninth. In the past few weeks, he has grown increasingly comfortable with facing the more talented pitchers. He was starting to make pitchers work really hard and was putting the ball in play with solid contact. While he was the victim of some bad breaks (some of the hardest balls he hit were right to outfielders who made the catches for outs), I reminded him that baseball rewards consistency and over time his luck would change.

I was as surprised as anyone when we got to the first game on Friday night and OB was batting third! He would later tell me that he was nervous and preferred to bat lower in the order. I let him know that he should welcome the pressure. He was given the opportunity because he is talented. If he can trust in his ability and allow himself to perform as he knows he can, he will be able to succeed.

Well, he struck out in his first at bat. He would soon learn that he had to get more aggressive. He did better in his second at bat. He hit it to third and beat the throw for an infield single. He would go on to draw a crucial walk in his third at bat that helped trigger the winning rally. He would end up scoring as the team would go on to a taut 2-0 win.

It was late by the time we got back to the hotel. Flush with smiles from the thrilling victory, we celebrated with some homemade ice cream. Looking over the many flavors, he looked past the standard vanilla and chocolate (“you can get that anywhere”) and opted for the “secret recipe” of Cape Cod Sand. If I had to guess, it was some combination of vanilla, caramel, butterscotch and something else to give it the sandy texture. It was also delicious! It was a decision his mother would have made and it gave me another reason to smile as we walked home and fell into bed.

One of my last memories of the day was looking over as OB crawled under the sheets. He was clutching his old friend, Wally the Walrus. It was a touching moment. It was also a sad reminder that these days are passing way too quickly.

Saturday morning brought a new opponent. OB again struck out in his first at-bat. He was nearly in tears. Since the field had no defined dugout or real separation from the kids, he walked over shortly after that and sat next to me with his puffy eyes to get a cold Gatorade. I asked him why he was so upset and he complained that the first two strikes were at his shoulders and the last one was about a foot outside of the plate. I told him I agreed, but that he had to adjust to the way the ump was calling the game. He again improved and got another walk and flicked a nice single out to left field. The team ended up winning by more than ten runs and invoking the mercy rule.

We had a six hour break before our next game. We went back to the hotel and changed. OB decided he didn’t want to swim so we walked to the arcade on Main Street. After some light fun, we decided to grab lunch near the ice cream shop we had been to last night. It was a fairly fancy Italian restaurant. Since OB can eat a fair amount of food, we both ordered off the regular menu. He originally thought about a Caesar salad, but I convinced him to try something else. I talked him into his mom’s favorite—pappardelle. This version had short rib in it. I had gnocchi. They were both quite good! Later, we split the Cape Cod Mud and Lavender Honeycomb. OB was impressed because the latter choice tasted exactly like it smelled!

The late game was another tense affair. We started off well and then fell behind. OB got a nice double and a single and played well in the field. We ended up with a tight win.

That evening, we decided to join the team for pizza at the hotel pool. It was a chaotic scene. OB had some fun, but as time wore on I saw him shying away from the centralized scrum of boys fighting over the football in the middle of the pool. I walked up to him and he shared that he didn’t feel comfortable roughhousing with the rest of the boys. I told him I understood. After about an hour or so, he climbed out of the pool and asked to go back to the room to get some rest.

Sunday morning brought the first round of the elimination portion of the tournament. The first three games were only for seeding purposes. At this point, any loss would end our run. To my pleasant surprise, OB was scheduled to lead off the first game. His first inning went 1-2-3 with two strikeouts. His first at-bat also was a solid single to left. By the end of the first inning, we were up 6-0. In the second inning, the first batter grounded to third and the throw to first went over the fielder’s head for an error. After two passed balls, the runner was now on 3^rd. The next batter hit a pop fly to the outfield. The center fielder wandered over to where it would land and stuck out his glove. Unfortunately, it popped out and a run scored. Through it all, OB maintained his composure and never lost his cool (even though he was seething inside). I have to say that he’s really improved in his ability to manage his emotions.

OB settled down and was able to get out of the inning with no further damage. Because it was a hot day, coach went with another pitcher. We would go on to win 13-3 after four innings (mercy). With two hits and a walk as well as two solid innings, OB won the “star of the game” award. This had been one of his goals for the weekend, so he was quite pleased and proud.

The next game was against Canton. We had just played them in the late game on Saturday. We had also played them twice in a tournament about three weeks prior. That familiarity would add to the overall difficulty.

One of our aces started the game. He had pitched brilliantly on Friday night. Against Canton, he would not do quite as well. The leadoff batter started off with an infield single. The next batter struck out on a wicked changeup that seemed like it was on a string. The third batter then hit a rocket to the gap for a double that scored a run. That was followed by another solid single and then another double. Before we knew it, we were down 3-0. Even worse, the batter on second was actively yelling out “changeup” to the batter when he was down 0-2. As I said earlier, Canton had learned from their previous battles with us! We eventually got out of the inning, but it was fairly somber in our dugout.

OB was batting second. The leadoff batter was able to get on base. He lofted a nice ball to left center that fell in for a double. He was followed by another double and now we were in business. We would score three to even the score. It was now a five inning game.

There was no score in the second. In the top of the third, our ace walked a batter. A sacrifice and a groundout would move him to third. The next batter hit a lazy fly to right center. There were two boys there, but they both hesitated as it started to come down. It fell between them for an error and gave up a critical run. It didn’t help that we went down meekly in the bottom half of the frame.

We brought in our second ace to start the fourth. He throws really hard and started out by striking out the side. In the bottom of the fourth, we pushed a run across. OB drew a walk and the batter after him did as well. The bases were loaded and one of our better hitters was up with two outs. During the at-bat, a wild pitch eluded the catcher. Our fastest player was on third and he darted home. He was so fast, he scored standing up—or so we thought. In Little League, there is a rule that if there is a play at the plate, you have to slide. Since he did not, he was automatically out and it snuffed out our rally.

We thought we had their pitcher on the ropes, but we just could not come up with the timely hit. After holding them scoreless in the fifth and the sixth, OB came up in the bottom of the sixth with the go-ahead run on first. He flared one out just past first base, but the fielder made a nice catch backing up to get him. We got the runner to second, but couldn’t score. The game would go into extra innings.

In the seventh, our luck ran out. The fireballer who struck out the side was running out of gas. He gave up a single and then a long double followed. The lead runner ran for home. The relay home was just a bit too late and we were now down 5-4. Later in the inning, runners would get to second and third. With two outs, the batter hit a grounder to short which looked like a sure out. Unfortunately, a bad throw allowed two more runs to score.

Canton had thrown the same pitcher for all six innings (!). They switched pitchers. It didn’t help us. We went down 1-2-3 and our tournament was over.

OB was sad. To be honest, I was, too. By all rights, our team should have won the game. We also have lots of good pitchers on the team and could possibly have won our next two games and the tournament. The ride home was mostly silent. I know from experience that I just need to give him space and time to sort out his feelings. We wouldn’t really end up talking about any of the games until the next day or so. Even though he doesn't usually fall asleep in the car, I could see in the rear view mirror that he was exhausted and he dozed off for much of the ride.

All in all, I am extremely proud of the progress OB has made over the course of this year. He stayed in second or third position for the entire weekend. He even spent time at shortstop instead of second base. He told me he doesn't like the added responsibility, but I think he secretly does like leading.  I’ll be sure to keep you posted as he continues his baseball journey.

Unified Theory of Deliciousness

Who knew you could combine philosophy and food?

This article from Wired covers David Chang's "Unified Theory of Deliciousness"

Early on, the author describes how he thinks about food constantly. This thinking was really driven years before by a seminal class in logic. Here was one of the main lessons:

DeLong and Hofstadter both found great beauty in what the latter called strange loops—occasions when mathematical systems or works of art or pieces of music fold back upon themselves. M. C. Escher’s drawings are a great, overt example of this. Take his famous picture of two hands drawing each other; it’s impossible to say where it starts or ends. When you hit a strange loop like this, it shifts your point of view: Suddenly you aren’t just thinking about what’s happening inside the picture; you’re thinking about the system it represents and your response to it.

It was only recently that I had a realization: Maybe it’s possible to express some of these ideas in food as well. I may never be able to hear them or draw them or turn them into math. But I’ll bet I can taste them. In fact, looking back over the years, I think a version of those concepts has helped guide me to some of our most popular dishes.

He goes on to explain:

MY FIRST BREAKTHROUGH on this idea was with salt. It’s the most basic ingredient, but it can also be hellishly complex. A chef can go crazy figuring out how much salt to add to a dish. But I believe there is an objectively correct amount of salt, and it is rooted in a counterintuitive idea. Normally we think of a balanced dish as being neither too salty nor undersalted. I think that’s wrong. When a dish is perfectly seasoned, it will taste simultaneously like it has too much salt and too little salt. It is fully committed to being both at the same time.

Try it for yourself. Set out a few glasses of water with varying amounts of salt in them. As you taste them, think hard about whether there is too much or too little salt. If you keep experimenting, you’ll eventually hit this sweet spot. You’ll think that it’s too bland, but as soon as you form that thought, you’ll suddenly find it tastes too salty. It teeters. And once you experience that sensation, I guarantee it will be in your head any time you taste anything for the rest of your life.

He describes the process for creating one of his signature dishes:

Anyway, that meant he would have to find a way of re-creating the sweetness, umami, and pungency of Bolognese without the onions, celery, carrot, tomato paste, or white wine. He ended up using scallions, red chiles, ground pork, and fermented bean paste. Instead of using milk to provide that silky mouthfeel, I encouraged him to add in some whipped tofu. And rather than pasta or gnocchi, he served it with rice cakes that looked like gnocchi. We called it Spicy Pork Sausage & Rice Cakes, and when most people taste it, it reminds them—even on a subconscious level—of a spicier version of Bolognese.

But here’s the thing. When I taste that dish, I don’t taste Bolognese—I taste mapo tofu, a spicy, flavorful Chinese dish made with soft tofu, Szechuan peppers, and ground pork. I’ve had way more mapo tofu than I’ve had Bolognese, so that resonates more for me. I’d never seen a connection between Bolognese and mapo tofu before, but Joshua had inadvertently discovered this overlap between them. We hit the middle of a Venn diagram, creating something that incorporated enough elements of both mapo tofu and Bolognese that it could evoke both of them, while being neither one precisely.

All of this combines to create powerful emotional connections:

Now, most diners probably aren’t consciously drawing connections between what they’re eating and the favorite meals of their youth. They probably don’t fully understand why they’re enjoying it so much. But I think deep down, whether they realize it or not, they’re having that Ratatouille moment, tasting one of those underlying base patterns and feeling that interplay between the exotic and the familiar.

Chang later explains the concept of isomorphisms. This is the idea of concepts taking many different forms but expressing the same ideas. He applies this approach to his food and finds innovative ways to fuse the different with your own past!

Poor kitty

The humans enjoyed this. The kitty--not so much.

Nine point guide to spotting dodgy stats

The Guardian published a deeper examination into the many ways facts and figures are twisted and distorted--sometimes beyond recognition. Statistics can be powerful support for an argument, but it is also important to look past the headline and gain greater context before making your final decision.

An early paragraph helps explain their rationale:

Every statistician is familiar with the tedious “Lies, damned lies, and statistics” gibe, but the economist, writer and presenter of Radio 4’s More or Less, Tim Harford, has identified the habit of some politicians as not so much lying – to lie means having some knowledge of the truth – as “bullshitting”: a carefree disregard of whether the number is appropriate or not.

Guardian: Our nine-point guide to spotting a dodgy statistic

Planned obsolescence and LED lighting

LED lights are about more than just energy efficiency. The new bulbs are meant to last for a very long time--25,000 hours. The average light bulb is estimated to be used about 1.6 hours per day. At that rate, LED bulbs can last up to 42 years!

This story from the New Yorker discusses an incandescent light bulb that dates to 1901 that is still burning today (it is left on at all times). It goes through the history of light bulbs and how this was the first time that an industry went through deliberate efforts to "break" their products prematurely in order to create turnover in their markets.

New Yorker: The LED Quandary