2022 #20 Reach Everyone, Teach Everyone: Universal Design for Learning in Higher Education (Tobin/Behling)

Reach Everyone, Teach Everyone: Universal Design for Learning in Higher Education by Thomas J. Tobin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is an engaging and informative (yes!) basic introduction to implementing the core principles of UDL (Universal Design for Learning) into higher education. What is particularly useful (and sets it apart from other books on the topic) is the "multiple paths" through the book. A useful "Suggested first-read chart" outlines the various readerships that might benefit from the book and which chapters might be most relevant, making it an excellent resource for small-group reading circles of administrators, staff, and faculty. Chapter 1 is a great primer on concepts such as learner variability, Universal Design (overall) and basic tenets of accessibility in higher education. Chapter 2 is a useful overview of some of the lawmaking surrounding accessibility, and is an important read for those who may need to make a case to administrators. The most compelling point is that the UDL framework can "reduce the need for individuals to have to ask for special treatment." The strange land that lies between accessibility and accommodations is one that is just now being more deeply explored as differences between "inclusion" and "belonging" are also being better understood.

Part 2, Reframing UDL, includes chapters on Mobile Learners and Digital Learners, but it is Chapter 5 that will resonate the most for faculty who may want to make changes but don't know where to start. The UDL framework, as fully presented by CAST, can be daunting. Tobin and Behling advocate for a "plus-one" approach that promotes a pre-emptive, responsive, and iterative process to designing assignments, syllabi, and/or assessment. This is a manageable strategy that can both temper the workload that may seem required to integrate UDL into a course, and it very well may bring skeptics on board, who might benefit from how to make "one assignment" more accessible (rather than "how to make YOUR TEACHING more accessible").

Chapter Six seems to widen the ambition, telling us that "UDL is too big to do alone," and while the point is well-taken, this would be one of those chapters that would be less useful to the skeptical faculty member. It will, however, motivate the faculty member who doesn't need to be convinced and is looking for allyship and teamwork in implementing UDL on a more curricular level. The greater point here is that UDL has the greatest impact on an institutional culture when supported across departments and at all levels.

Having prepared the reader for that concept/endeavor, Part 3 is devoted to "Adopt UDL on Your Campus" which provides solid guidance for moving from the individual "plus-one" to the institutional level. The final chapter "Engage! The UDL Life Cycle" is most useful for the condensing of information and review in a digestible format.

The book is beautifully researched and referenced, yet written in an inclusive and accessible tone. There are places that get rather heavy-laden with acronyms (other than UDL) , and while they are mostly cross-referenced, I would have loved to see more regular footnoting or parenthetical reminders of what they stand for. I was also a bit concerned when reading about the instructor who taught two sections of the same course and changed the approach to design and studying in only one of them as an experiment. Students are always subject to our pedagogical experimentation in some sense, but it didn't sit well with me to suggest that multiple sections of the same course (taught by the same instructor) should be drastically different to benefit our own learning as professors. While the data this professor received was valuable to implementing UDL more widely (and that was the point of including the anecdote), I do think we have to be careful about "experimenting" with inclusion in a way that can put others at a clear disadvantage.

The index makes it a great reference and resource, and the book is definitely one of the first I would recommend to faculty members who are interested in creating more inclusive spaces or who feel that "accommodations" are not supported. The book unapologetically subscribes to UDL as a framework, but even for those who prefer to pick-and-choose some of the ideas from UDL, it is a meaningful read. I'd also recommend that chairs, deans, VPs, provosts, and anyone in higher education read this book, especially if the institution is one that draws a strong line of demarcation between faculty and admin. Joint learning would go a long way to smoothing that divide and changing campus climate for the better.

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2022 #19 The Roommate (McTiernan) - Cormac Reilly #0.7

 

The Roommate by Dervla McTiernan
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Like The Sisters, this book is a prequel of sorts in the Cormac Reilly series. Niamh Turley gets in a bind when she loses her (first) roomate, and Cormac Reilly is a garda on the case (in Dublin, prior to his move to Galway). This was a free audio novella for subscribers to McTiernan's newsletter (although I accessed it through audible), and well...it suffers a bit for it. The condensed mystery novella isn't really McTiernan's strength, and once you start the Cormac Reilly series, these prequels unnecessary. The Sisters (review here) does give some backstory to a character who appears in the series proper, but The Roomate has less connection. We don't really get to care enough about the extremely naive Niamh to truly empathize, also her boss (the principal of the school where she teaches) seems to be hell-bent on making her life difficult. There are some overlapping strategies with McTiernan's novella The Wrong One, so I hope not to see that particular approach again. To give it a label (it is a common move in mystery and suspense) would be to offer a spoiler, so I won't, but it seems a bit clichéd.

It does, however, deserve kudos for the good old-fashioned "babysitter and the telephone" moment, which is delivered at the right time. I hope McTiernan sticks to full-length novels for the Reilly series, because her writing is more effective when she has the time and the space to develop both plot and characters.

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2022 #18 The Wrong One (McTiernan)

 

The Wrong One by Dervla McTiernan
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I'm beginning to think I'm just not a fan of novellas. I find the rhythm, at least in the suspense genre, to be insufficient for building expectation, working in character development, and throwing in a plot twist. That said, The Wrong One did keep me guessing for a good while, although the culprit is obvious about halfway through the book. The motive doesn't really work, and the strange supernatural suggestion is like an itch that never gets scratched (the "explanation" made it seem like an unnecessary part of the story in the first place).

Simon is, not unlike McTiernan's Cormac Reilly, a rough-and-ready cop, but unlike the Cormac Reilly series, this one takes place in New Jersey (and Connecticut). The setup is fairly conventional -- Simon's best friend died, and he feels a sense of obligation to Clara Coleman and her teenage son (Sebastian), and rushes to help when Clara is wrongfully accused of murder. Aside from the fact that Simon doesn't care much for Seb, as soon as we hear Sebastian in his own voice, he's immediately likeable. A longer novel could have benefitted from more of the backstory and relationship between Simon and his friend (Clara's husband, Will).

A solid performance from Michael Crouch and Neil Hellegers that makes up for some of the plot weaknesses.

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2022 #17 Being Peace (Nhat Hanh)

 

Being peace by Thich Nhat Hanh
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Originally published in 1987, Being Peace outlasts its post-Vietnam, Reagan-Era milieu for the most part. No doubt the many references to nuclear proliferation will seem a bit dated, but the wisdom is that suffering is indeed universal and timeless, so we need not jump far to find the proliferations and crises of our own time. Further, anyone aware of Nhat Hanh's work with the Vietnamese boat people will understand that this is not some monastic who sat on a cushion away from society, but instead a powerfully invested human being. For those skeptical about Buddhism, this book does much to explain that one should not be looking for "a Buddha from the outside" but instead, " it is our "own Buddha that calls us."

Thich Nhat Hanh is surprisingly witty at moments, slipping in a surreptitious lesson in a parenthetical comment: "The technique (if we must speak of a technique), is to be alive...". His blend of storytelling, poetry, and prose, makes this primer on some basic sutras and concepts of Buddhism extremely accessible. There are definitely worldly pleasures about which he has some strong feelings, and initially I rolled my eyes a bit at his disdain for television. However, when he says "telling the television to come colonize us"--that language made me understand. It isn't television, but how we use it to escape from the present, or rather WHEN we use it to escape from the present. He doesn't soapbox on this particular point, but I did find myself wondering what he thought of audiobooks...

Nhat Hanh died in January (2022), and we lost a voice that managed to move beyond dogma toward a practical understanding of being, really. In a rather slim volume (or short audiobook, if you prefer), he offers precepts (or rather "mindfulness trainings") of Thiền Buddhism, parsing (a bit) that which is monastic and that which can be followed by the layperson. I struggled a bit with his explanation regarding awareness of injustice, but not taking sides. His point, if I understand it, is that it isn't about absolution or even forgiveness, but to understand the universality of suffering and existence of compassion. This may be something I never quite internalize. However, I was very much struck by Mindfulness Training no. 11, wherein he compares compassion to a North Star---it is there to light the way and we move toward it, but like the North Star, we do not arrive AT it. This may seem like a more fanciful way to espouse "it is the journey, not the destination", and it is, but the poetry of his language seems more meaningful than your typical inspirational poster or Pinterest meme. His poem "Please call me by my true names" is a powerful moment, and I'd invite anyone to go to the Plum Village website to listen to him read it: https://plumvillage.org/articles/plea...

"I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,/to fear and to hope" he tells us in the poem. He quips later in the book "Don't just do something, sit there." And by the time we reach that point of learning, we get that it isn't some sort of cutesy verbal trinket because he has put much spirit and energy into explaining what "sit" means in the meditation tradition. We understand that a smile is a gift of the spirit, not an indication of happiness. Edoardo Ballerini captures the spirit of Nhat Hanh's voice, which truly smiles at us, like a Buddha. In fact, he tells us that if we must bring a Buddha home to adorn our breathing space, to be sure to find one that is smiling and relaxed. If we do not find such a beautiful Buddha, he tells us, then we should find a flower instead, because the flower is a Buddha.

This is not a book for someone looking for a guide to serious practice. It is, however, a book full of wisdom and grace, that can make connections for us if we just take the time to listen.

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2022 #16: The Accidental Alchemist (Pandian)

 

The Accidental Alchemist by Gigi Pandian
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

"It was a good thing I added extra chia seeds and cocoa powder to my smoothie that day."

If you enjoy being proselytized to about veganism, this is definitely the book for you. The above quote is a representative microcosm of why this book is getting a less-than-stellar review from me. Although the blurb on the author's website says "recipes included" (assuming that's the print version?) there is nothing to explain (or warn us about) the obsession with incorporating plant-based diets into this story. And I have NO ISSUE with a plant-based diet. Had this incorporated omnivorous or carnivorous diets in the same way, it would still be incredibly irritating.

I note the several one-star reviews that decry the same feature. I felt one star was a bit harsh because there are some aspects that have/had tremendous potential. Zoe Faust, the protagonist, is not overly interesting as voiced in the audiobook, but her story is. The story is steeped in historical trivia both local and global, with references to magician/illusionist Jean-Eugène Robert-Houdin (1805 - 1871), the Shanghai Tunnels in Portland, OR, the Salem (MA) witch trials and the history of alchemy. Sometimes, like the chia seed and non-stop vegan food references, these historical nods seem too forced, as if the author is trying to prove she's done her research. By far the best part of the book is the character of the epicurean Dorian Robert-Houdin, about whom I shall say not much so as not to spoil it. But Dorian is a wonderful character, befitting the genre, and Julia Motyka does a great job bringing the French character to life. It is Dorian who should be the star of the show here and for whom I had the most empathy.

Zoe's backstory could be more interesting, but it is all related through Zoe's voice and largely disconnected from the plot. The character of Max starts as a rather sterile love interest and instantaneously turns into Fabio in one scene, which I found overwritten and out of left field. The "small-town" aspects of Portland are heavily amplified (although I find myself grateful that it is not the clichéd small town in New England, for once), but this serves the Cabot-Cove - cozy-mystery type plot.

I did listen to the free preview of the next book in the series (the Masquerading Magician), and I was relieved that the first chapter seems to be free of vegan food references. That said, I'm not sure there was enough to hold my interest for me to give the series a second chance.

The author is clearly talented and well-steeped in research, which I applaud. That Zoe Faust would be vegan and that it is connected to her health as a former alchemist is fine and makes total sense. But the book would be more aptly called the Intentional Vegan given how frequently the reader is forced to hear/read the ingredients of everything consumed in the protagonist's daily existence. It is actually a really creative idea for a cookbook, to be fair--but then it should be marketed and designed as such.

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2022 #15: Taming the Tiger Within (Thich Nhat Hanh)

 

Taming the Tiger Within: Meditations on Transforming Difficult Emotions by Thich Nhat Hanh
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is a series of aphorisms and meditations to help us ground ourselves when faced with their own anger. There isn't really an overarching sense of "book", but it functioned more as a long 45 minute meditation on the nature of our own anger and the impact it can have on those we love. Thich Nhat Hanh's wisdom is rooted in Buddhism, but shares much with many other meditative practices and religious ideas. While nothing was overly revelatory, the gentle narration and the reminders of meeting our own anger before reacting to it were helpful during a time of inner turmoil.

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2022 #14 Oracle 2: The Dreamland Murders (Pyper)

 

Oracle 2 The Dreamland Murders by Andrew Pyper
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

While not a book per se, but more of a modern radio play (read: episodic podcast), Oracle 2 was fabulously entertaining. Joshua Jackson returns as the melancholic and burdened Nick Russo--a "seer" of sorts who is consistently haunted by a figure called the "Boneman". He works as a consultant with two FBI agents: Claire Hernandez (played well by Humberly González) and Agent Tillman (a most excellent performance by Devon Bostick, redeemed from his poor character in The 100--not his fault, mind you). The series picks up important threads from the first book, so I would definitely recommend reading/listening to Oracle first.

The repartée between Russo and Tillman provides a humorous and even endearing character development that was not so apparent in the first book. Agent Hernandez fades into the background at times, but Oracle 2 focuses on building the relationship between these three characters which added unexpected depth to the story.

When I heard the preview, I thought I would find the added foley and soundtrack distracting, but it is actually rather effective (save for a few clichéd "bum-bum-BUM!!!!" moments). It was like watching a movie with one's eyes closed, which I really liked, as outside of Russo (who I can't help as see as Joshua Jackson), I had formed images of the characters in my mind already. Bostick's voice does not really match up with his appearance in my mind, so "my" Tillman looks different.

Without giving too many spoilers, the Boneman is still here (originally voiced by Jackson in the first audiobook, here I'm not certain...), but he takes a backseat to a new evil. I felt Pyper underexplored this connection and the role of the Boneman a bit, but appreciated the twist. Russo's monologues grew tiresome on occasion, and as a character he seemed to degrade a bit from the first book. A climactic scene in the House of Mirrors was very good except for a brief and unnecessary moment of "in case you didn't get it" explanatory nonsense regarding the evil figure who is central to the story. There's a new love interest (of sorts) for Russo, but as with the first book, this is very understated and at most results in a one-night stand. Important to the story is the archivist, and I really treasured her character and hope she turns up in any further sequels.

The supernatural element is kicked up several notches here, but Pyper is sure to give us enough character development to keep us guessing about who is trustworthy and who is not. And while abandoned amusement parks are de facto creeptastic settings, Pyper keeps the clichés to a minimum (no scary clowns--coulrophobes rejoice!) and the story is a nod to the witch hunts of history and small-town networks.

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2022 #13: The Scholar (McTiernan) - Cormac Reilly #2

 

The Scholar by Dervla McTiernan
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a good follow-up to The Ruin in many ways. Cormac Reilly is now finding his footing with the Galway Garda, slowly building on relationships he can trust and figuring out who is there to do him in. Carrie, too (whose "origin story" is in The Sisters, has come into her own, and they both negotiate the enigmatic behavior of superintendent Murphy. Outside the station, the dark world of academia and scientific research rears its ugly head, full of jealousies (petty and not-so-petty) and desperation.

The connection between the two major deaths in the story becomes fairly clear -- for most readers probably long before Cormac and/or Carrie put two and two together. But do not fret...McTiernan knows how to write a plot twist, and this one is plausible for the most part. She artfully keeps us guessing with a lot of possibilities, and for those who wished we had more character development of Emma in The Ruin, this is the story you've needed. Also receiving more attention is Fisher, who actually plays a fairly significant role in the end.

As was the case with previous books, I sometimes felt there was too much emphasis on the "procedure" of procedural (e.g. details about zooming into video footage), but overall a really good balance of characterization and plot. Aoife McMahon delivers a convincing reading, although occasionally her male characters start to blend a bit.

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2022 #12 Deep Work (Newport)

 

Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World by Cal Newport
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I don’t waste time writing long reviews for books I hate, so let me say that. But I need to be critical of Deep Work because there are really solid and good ideas, but there does seem to be a whole lot of privilege and confirmation bias at work as well. In an interview with Newport for the Hidden Brain podcast (https://www.npr.org/transcripts/75433...), the host, Shankar Vedantam remarked, “I'm wondering if some people might say your advice is really advice for people who, in some ways, are at the top of their food chains.” Vedantam also addressed the impact of one’s “deep work” on other people, something that Newport does not discuss with any…depth. I remember cheering when Vedantam took him to task (gently) because I had spent much of the interview thinking about how little resemblance Newport’s “case studies” had to my own life and experience. Yet, there was enough that I decided to read the book.

There are some serious gaps in Newport’s logic toward application of the “deep work” model. First, he seems reticent to accept neurodiversity, or at least address it. He merely notes: “If you instead remain one of the many for whom depth is uncomfortable and distraction ubiquitous, you shouldn’t expect these systems and skills to come easily to you.” (37). Fair enough, but what’s missing is any kind of guidance or attempt to explain how to meet these additional challenges. I’ve become quite engaged in mindfulness (something Newport addresses), and I admire how Jeff Warren (at Ten Percent Happier) talks about his own ADHD and how that works with mindfulness, rather than just saying “it’s a challenge”. I also bristled a bit at Newport’s underlying assumption of elite and economic goals. Take for example, this footnote: “Giving students iPads or allowing them to film homework assignments on YouTube prepares them for a high-tech economy about as much as playing with Hot Wheels would prepare them to thrive as auto mechanics.” (31) Deep Work, it would seem, does not allow for modern creativity, unless that creativity translates into computer programming (Bill Gates), or the countless other high-economy examples Newport uplifts. He seems to know the “less-skilled” (his words) exist, but fails to acknowledge that much of the status of high-skilled workers and the “superstars” can at some point be attributed to resting on the shoulders of those less-skilled folks. And it might surprise him to know that there are those academics (like this one) who don’t lie awake at night worrying about our h-index on Google Scholar.

Newport does seem to tone down the privilege in the “Deep Work is Meaningful” section, which resonated more than the initial “Deep Work is Rare” section. He surprisingly connects it to ideas of craftsmanship and even a “glimpse of the sacred.” (89). He references the medieval quarry worker’s creed, quoted in The Pragmatic Programmer: “We who cut mere stones must always be envisioning cathedrals.” (89) That’s one framing of the sacred, I suppose. But there is value in the doing, sometimes, and that more…Zen…concept seems to elude Newport.

In Part 2, Newport presents four rules designed to “reduce the conflict” of being a “disciple of depth in a shallow world.” (97) It is statements like the latter that made me roll my eyes on more than one occasion. He does, however, allow for different philosophies of deep work or deep work scheduling, at any rate: the monastic, bimodal, rhythmic, and journalistic. Here Newport seems to do the most to engage with a multitude of circumstances and approaches. The section on ritualizing behavior rests on a plethora of pre-existent productivity literature, but even here, Newport sometimes favors the privileged. His advice to “make grand gestures” as a way to motivate oneself to deeply work is supported only by the single example of J.K. Rowling checking into a ritzy Edinburgh hotel to finish the last of the Harry Potter series. In addition to Newport’s point that the “grand gesture” (in this case paying more than $1000 per day for a hotel room) can be motivating, I assume being able to pay that (or take a “Think Week” like Bill Gates, or summer on a tiny island in Maine like Alan Lightman), might also be a rather motivating factor. Perhaps some examples of more economically realistic grand gestures (for those who might not make six figures or beyond) would solidify the wisdom behind this directive.

I found Newport’s small section on architecture and layout most capitvating, particularly because he called upon his own lived experience at MIT, instead of making grand pronouncements about things he does not engage with (e.g. social media). He is critical of the open-floor plan “serendipitous creativity” model, and his argument for “hub-and-spoke” architecture, wherein “both serendipitous encounter and isolated deep thinking are supported” (131) is very convincing. And perhaps the greatest take away moves the architecture into the land of metaphor: “Expose yourself to ideas in hubs on a regular basis, but maintain a spoke in which to work deeply on what you encounter.” (132)

Another truly valuable discussion is that of the “lead vs. lag” measures of 4DX (The Four Disciplines of Execution). Newport suggests that to measure one’s success, there need to be “lead” measures that will drive the success of the “lag” measures—in other words, short term goals that are fundamentally important to larger objectives. This echoes the wisdom of many productivity systems and philosophies, including David Allen’s exhortation to remember the “steps” to get to the destination.

It is Rule #3 that I found the most…vexing: Quit Social Media. Despite not using it himself, Newport can’t help but be rather judgmental about Facebook and Twitter, but his caution against the “any-benefit” mindset is useful. He asks us to do a true “cost”-benefit analysis of using a network tool, remembering our ultimate baseline. He reveals his own bias when he notes: “We don’t have to argue about whether these authors are right in their personal decisions to avoid Twitter (and similar tools) because their sales numbers and awards speak for themselves.” (194) The baseline metric for Newport is clear, and it arises every time he attempts to work with his own biases. All that said, the diagnostic Newport offers to apply to our own social media behavior is valuable, but flawed in one key aspect: it does not take into account how others wish to engage. Networking does imply communication with people other than ourselves. The deep work model is rather uncompromising, and this extends to Newport’s critique of social media. While a phone call to a dear friend to catch up might be more meaningful for me, perhaps it is important to them that I’ve seen the latest photos of their children on Facebook. Missing from the discussion (although Newport briefly notes it) is the nuance of WHO is in our Facebook networks, HOW we engage with it, and the question remains that using Facebook and having a “thriving and rewarding social life” aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive or one-size-fits-all. Still, asking ourselves how much FOMO informs the time we spend online is useful.

Newport’s practical advice may not be so practical for a lot of people, but that doesn’t remove its value. Like any productivity model, Deep Work has a lot to offer—both philosophically and strategically. I plan to implement many of his suggestions during my sabbatical, and I’ll be running a few “experiments” of my own. While Newport’s perspective that the road to hell is paved with tweets seems a bit biased and hyperbolic, we could all likely benefit from an audit of what “depth” means for our own lives and workflow.

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2022 #11 The Sisters (McTiernan) - Cormac Reilly #.5

 

The Sisters by Dervla McTiernan
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

As a prequel, this really doesn't do much, if only because it has nothing to do with Cormac Reilly, but instead gives us a short story about Carrie Ryan's beginnings. I found it not long enough to care about either of the sisters-- Aifric OR Carrie-- and the "case" wasn't quite riveting enough to match the energy of The Ruin. I'm just now working my way through the series, so I'm hoping my time spent with "The Sisters" will pay off down the road as Carrie plays a bigger role, but this really felt a bit more like fanfic in the context of the series. Will update this review if I feel there is a payoff later in the series.

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2022 #10 Parable of the Sower (Butler)

 

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Remarkable. It is a word that is over-used, and yet, can also say absolutely nothing. But truly...that is the word that first came to mind. Not when I finished the book, but within the first hour of listening. Lauren Olamina is one of the best adolescent female characters in all the fiction I've read. Her "sharing" (hyper-empathy) is a disability (invisible to most) and for Lauren, an identity, that very much informs her worldview and arguably crafts her mission of Earthseed, as told both in the quotations from "The Books of the Living" and Lauren herself. She describes one woman as "housebound and squeamish," and notes without sanctimony: "...and that's what I would've become if everyone had known about me." It is hard to say what this book is NOT about. Written in 1993, and taking place in 2024, the book is remarkably prescient, but also makes a larger point about cycles of humanity. Slavery and colonialism are not just of the past, but of a future built on a present that relegates patterns to the past. And yet, some of the past is also celebrated as holding answers for the future.

Lauren's character is written with so much personality, yet without hyperbole or sentimentality. She just is. She suffers betrayal and loss, yet walks forward with an almost gentle ferocity, which really only makes sense for her character and the context of the book.

And yes, this is dystopic sci-fi, but it is also a "coming-of-age" novel. And a declaration of faith. "Embrace diversity or be destroyed." "God is change." Butler celebrates the power of poetry--no matter the source. And she even recognizes the limits to her protagonist's agency, as Lauren must disguise herself (figuratively and literally).

So, yeah, the book is remarkable. And I certainly wish it had been available to read when I was in high school, because I'm certain it would have resonated far more with me than Lord of the Flies or Catcher in the Rye. Definitely one of my top ten books.

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