Some people die at 25 but aren’t buried until they are 75.
Attributed to Ben Franklin
If Ben didn’t say this, he should have. Most of his wisdom was pragmatic, self-directed, and grounded in everyday utility. Living is something we do every day.
When should we define what it is about?
Quick Quips are a developing feature of the Walter Writes Blog, which explores simplicity in a complicated world.
RSU 19 has already advised students that our Substitute Teacher and Suicide Prevention Workshops are postponed due to illness (mine!). The new schedule is
If you’d like to attend (both are free), call RSU Adult Ed at 207 368-3290.
I suppose we could have some fun with the fact that a substitute was not available for the Substitute Teacher Workshop. I’ll probably tell you about the time I was walking down the hall at school when a student came out of a classroom and grabbed me. “Mr. Boomsma, we don’t have a teacher!”
The little joys of teaching are without number.
Mr. Boomsma
Every day, I delete anywhere from 50 to 100 emails. The good news is it forces me into a daily ritual.
The ritual also forces me to get better at recognizing AI-generated email. Five to ten of those daily emails seem to be from self-appointed book-publishing and marketing experts. They’ve all read my book and describe it in detail. They “prove” this by offering highly complimentary observations.
Of course they also find some weaknesses–not in the book itself, but in the fact that such a great book isn’t reaching enough readers. One hallmark of AI-generated email is that it makes you feel good, at least on the surface. If I manage to read one of these emails without my crapdetector turned on, I enthusiastically agree.
One that arrived this morning gave itself away in the close. It offered me a choice.
AI struggles with uncertainty. While humans are naturally equipped to say “I don’t know,” typical AI systems are designed to match patterns, often making them confidently wrong. In this example, I’m given the choices the AI system can handle so it can automatically respond appropriately.
It helps to think of it as mechanics, although it’s more accurately mathematical. It’s one of AI’s current limitations that gives us humans a big edge. AI doesn’t have instincts. It works inside a box.
Humans may create their own boxes and boundaries, but working inside them ultimately is a choice. It’s an important distinction.
In my example, the approach can seem manipulative. It’s trying to force an email dialog that leads me to agree to use its service. My guess is that the human behind this effort is not involved. In that sense, the strength of AI is also the weakness.
In courtroom drama, when an attorney instructs the witness to “answer yes or no,” it’s also manipulative, attempting to establish a pattern of thinking.
Humans can do what AI can. AI cannot do what humans can.
Yet.
While in Canada, I attended a ceilidh. A ceilidh (pronounced KAY-lee) is a traditional Scottish and Irish social gathering that features live folk music and dance. This one was more accurately a concert. About a hundred people sat in a semicircle around the performers.
Unlike most concerts, this didn’t have the usual prohibition of recordings and photographs. From the back, I noticed how many hands held smartphones high at any given moment. It reminded me of school days, when students wanted to be called on. When you think about it, smartphones do beg for attention.
Earlier in the day, I’d seen an informal review of a different ceilidh. The reviewer was disappointed that the venue didn’t offer a place to dance. Her point was well taken. She knows a ceilidh is a gathering in a room full of music, laughter, and people of all ages dancing, whooping, and clapping.
So maybe I didn’t attend a ceilidh. Whatever it was, a number of attendees spent a lot of time and energy recording short segments of it, fiddling (note the intentional use of that word) with their phones, watching instant replays, and showing the results to their neighbor.
I didn’t count, but several of these people left at intermission. I wanted to chase after them and ask a few questions. The big one was, “Did you fully enjoy the ‘moment,’ or was it more fun recording it?” I’m not judging. I’m curious.
And I’ll confess. I wasn’t fully enjoying the music while I was entertaining these thoughts. I even regret not getting a photo or two of those raised smartphones to illustrate this article. I enjoyed the moment; just not as intended. If I may use another “e word,” I was engaged in something other than the music.
Day two included another event that more closely qualified as a ceilidh. Photos and recording were prohibited. There were other differences, but I chose to focus on that one. It freed people to ignore their smartphones and participate in the performance.
There was an abundance of “dancing, whooping, and clapping.” The dancing was limited to the performers because of space constraints, but the audience whooped and clapped a lot. Toe tapping and knee slapping were hard to observe in the darkened theatre. But it felt like the audience enjoyed the moment mentally, emotionally, and physically. I know I did.
Looking back on both events, I find myself wondering if I was truly “enjoying the moment” and “getting what I came for.” It’s ultimately my responsibility to make sure I do.
Phones held high, or hands busy clapping. Both are a way of being there. It’s worth knowing which one you came for.
Quote from a homeschooler: “Once you have the world as your classroom, there’s no turning back.” Even out of context that’s a profound observation.
What will you learn today?
Quick Quips are a developing feature of the Walter Writes Blog, which explores simplicity in a complicated world.