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November 29, 2011 By B. Baylis Leave a Comment

Higher Education Lessons Learned from Toys–Part II

Part I of this series discussed the lessons my grandchildren’s toys taught me about higher education. In this posting I will discuss what I learned about higher education when I reflected on my own childhood toys.

The first images that come to my mind when I think about my own toys were images of a large card board cylinder with a set of Lincoln Logs with which I played. Lincoln Logs were very different from Lego’s. Lincoln Logs only came in one basic color, bark color, and in one shape and a limited number of different sizes. You could build a cabin, if you put the logs together in precisely one way. You could put in doors and windows only if you had the framing pieces for the doors and windows. Lincoln Log cabins were essentially identical. They all looked the same. In some branches of higher education, the institutions are like the Lincoln Log cabins. They can only be put together in one way, and they all look identical. You can’t tell the difference as you go from one institution to another.

I also had a large cardboard chest that contained an Erector Set, with all the different sized beams, and extra nuts and bolts. This set included the extra wheels, axels, gears and a small electric motor to drive the axels. With this Erector Set I could build anything, or so I thought. I could put together cranes, skyscrapers, airplanes, cars, and trucks. Although these objects were all different, because they were put together using the same parts and using the same methods, they all had a similar appearance. Because many institutions of higher education are built in this way, using the same parts and construction methodology, they all appear to be the same.

I also had two Lionel Train sets for which my father and I built a train board to display my two train sets. The board consisted of two 4’x8’ sheets of plywood, that contained two villages complete with streets and lighted streets lights, roads with working traffic lights, rail crossings with working rail road gates at the points where the tracks intersected the painted roads on the board, and several industrial sites with loading and unloading equipment for specialty cars in my two train sets. The train board also had mountains, one of which included a train tunnel, several painted streams complete with rail bridges, and a train depot complete with a powered round table. I even had an engineer’s cap which I wore when I played with the trains. The train board and extras made the experience seem realistic. However, the trains never got anywhere and never accomplished anything. All they ever did was go around in circles. This is very similar to some institutions of higher education, Lots of action, all the bells and whistles, but they never go anywhere, except around in circles.

My fourth toy was an extra large Gilbert toy science set. It came in a fold out metal case. It included a lighted microscope with slides, instructions and material to prepare them. It included a small telescope with a map of the northern sky. The microscope opened the small world to me, while the telescope opened the vast expanses of the universe to me. It also included the basic tools of a chemistry lab such as test tubes, beakers, and chemicals. As a concession to safety, the Bunsen burner was a candle instead of a gas burner. The set also included a small handbook filled of Dos and Don’ts, and safety suggestions. If you only used the chemicals that came with the set, you could never get into trouble. It was only when you struck out on your own, did you run the risk of a major accident or explosion. This is very similar to higher education. If you stick to what is given to you within the curriculum, you’ll never run the risk of a major accident. However, how many of us are the compliant children that do everything that we are told, and avoid the forbidden areas? I can remember a few times when I went beyond the safe instructions, and I had messes to clean up in my mother’s kitchen.

Filed Under: Higher Education Tagged With: College, Metaphor, Philosophy, Toys

November 28, 2011 By B. Baylis Leave a Comment

Higher Education Lessons Learned from Toys–Part I

Whenever I spend time with my two daughters and their families, I find it very entertaining and educational watching my grandchildren play with their toys. For years, my youngest grandchildren enjoyed playing with Lego’s. They had several sets of blocks of varying colors, sizes and shapes. My younger grandson is currently into Bionicles, fantasy warriors with interchangeable parts. The second type of toys that he spends hours with is transformers, a toy with parts that you rearrange to form two or more recognizable forms that are very different.

As I watched my younger grandchildren play with their toys, I reflected on some of the toys with which I played when I was growing up. The more I watched and reflected the more similarities that I saw between institutions of higher education and toys.  In this post, I will discuss what I learned about higher education from my grandchildren’s toys. In Part II of this series of posts, I will discuss what I learned from my toys.

         I know some of my former colleagues in higher education will accuse me of falling off the wagon or into the deep end of the pool, if not a cesspool, comparing institutions of higher education to toys. I can hear them saying, “I always knew you were crazy.” I don’t think I’m crazy and I really don’t think that my current residence in the world of metaphors is completely to blame for the similarities that I see between institutions of higher education and toys. I have tried out these metaphors on some other people and they readily agreed that the similarities are patently obvious.

         The buildings that my younger grandson would build with his Lego’s were strange looking. He didn’t have enough blocks of the same color, size or shape to put together a normal looking building. Therefore, his buildings were odd shaped, leaned in various directions, and would fall apart easily. Sometimes her buildings would have wheels. When I asked him about the wheels, he said that the buildings were trailers in which the family could go camping. Sometimes our institutions of higher learning are odd-shaped, lean in various directions, lack permanency, and have wheels which would move the institutions around to different positions on various questions.

         Transformers are an interesting metaphor for institutions of higher learning. Transformers are “two toys in one.” A transformer is made to move back and forth between two recognizable forms that are very different and have very different purposes. Some institutions of higher education move back and forth between two recognizable forms with two very different purposes. You can’t pin the institution down as to what it really is.

         Bionicles are a fascinating metaphor for institutions of higher education. Bionilces are fantasy, warrior creatures with interchangeable parts that capture the imaginations of the builders as they battle other Bionicles and their Masters to save the universe.

As I thought about my grandchildren playing with their toys, I remember the fun that I had as a child when I played with toys. Part II of this series presents my reflections on my toys and institutions of higher education.

Filed Under: Higher Education Tagged With: College, Metaphor, Philosophy, Toys

July 5, 2010 By B. Baylis 2 Comments

For Me, Aphasia is like solving jig saw puzzles with pieces missing

For Me, Aphasia Is Like Solving Jig Saw Puzzles with Missing Pieces

When asked what it’s like living with aphasia and trying to speak or write, I describe it by saying that it is like putting together jig saw puzzles with pieces missing. One trouble with both writing and jig saw puzzles is that you usually don’t know pieces are missing until you get pretty far into the process of writing or solving the puzzle. Like most people, I do jig saw puzzles section by section. After I work on a section for a while, sometimes, I get to a particular place and I find a puzzle piece is missing. I can’t find it. It is just not there. I have hundreds of puzzle pieces spread out in front of me. With writing I get to a particular place and I can’t come up with the right word. I have thousands of words running through my mind. Whether with jig saw puzzles or writing, I am shuffling through all those pieces and words, but the right one that perfectly fits in that one place, is not there. What do you do with jig saw puzzles in this situation?
Most people would usually start looking at another part of the puzzle and try to find puzzle pieces that fit into that new part of the puzzle. If I do that enough for a puzzle, I will use up all the pieces that were in the box, and then I would know for certain that a piece or two are missing. After searching the house for the missing pieces, I might get out the other puzzles and see if the pieces got mixed up in those puzzle boxes. After all that, I really only have three choices: 1) pick up the puzzle pieces and put them back in the box and mark the box to indicate that a piece or two is missing; 2) go to one of those websites that advertize that they can replace missing puzzle pieces and purchase new pieces; or 3) pick up the unfinished puzzle and throw it away.
With my writing, I operate similarly. When I find myself stuck on a word, I will finish the remainder of the essay and then come back to the part with the missing word. Sometimes by then I will have found the word. Sometimes I haven’t. At that point of time, I will start searching in earnest through the word helpers like a cross-word dictionary or a thesaurus to try to find the right word or words. If that doesn’t work, I will set the essay aside and come back to it later. If I can’t find the right word or words then, I know at that point it is time to ask someone for help to find the appropriate word or words. That is like going to the puzzle websites to buy missing pieces. If that doesn’t work, I can either put the project aside and wait for a long time before I come back to it, or I trash it and forget about it.
Right now I have five or six projects on my computer that I have started but are in various stages of incompleteness. For the ones that are almost complete, I have sent copies to friends and former colleagues and asked them to review the projects and make suggestions. For the ones that I think still have possibilities but are in a much rougher state, I have set them aside, and I will come back to them off and on, at much later dates. Over the past months, I have looked at several essays that I have started and have decided that they are beyond repair or restoration. I have trashed them. I keep a file of ideas for essays, just the ideas, but not the real rough starts. Perhaps, I will come back to these ideas with a totally different approach at a much later date. This is a whole new way for me to operate, but it permits me to write and still cope with my mild case of aphasia.
If someone else has used the analogy of living with aphasia to missing jig saw puzzle pieces, I apologize for appropriating it. As an academic I have been trained to give credit for ideas to where credit is due. I did what I thought was a fairly exhaustive internet search on this topic and came up with nothing that was similar to the approach that I am taking in this essay. There were references to many exercises in aphasia therapy in which the individual with aphasia is asked to fill in a missing word in a simple sentence or to name a missing object in a simple picture. However, none of them compared the exercise to missing pieces of a jig saw puzzle. There were many references to autism as living with missing puzzle pieces, but none to aphasia that I could find. In dealing with autistic individuals or individuals with aphasia, I would in no way suggest throwing them away. Here is the place for a therapist or a care giver to provide the right degree of challenge and support to help the individual. An essay or a piece of work is far different from and far less valuable than the individual, although, for many of us, we find it difficult to separate ourselves from our work. It is a lesson from which we could all benefit.

Filed Under: Neurology Tagged With: Aphasia, Humor, Metaphor, Toys

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