The Effects of Expectations on Acheivement

Earlier today, I was sitting in Spanish class listening to another one of Mr. Plicta’s stories about his adventures as a foreign exchange student in Brazil.

On his first day at his new school, Mr. Plicta wanted to avoid drawing too much attention to himself, so he sat at the back of the classroom, behind the “troublemakers”. When the school day started, the instructor entered the classroom and began the lesson. All of the students listened intently. Then, when first period was over, the teacher left, and the next teacher entered.

You see, in Brazil, high school is done differently. Instead of each student having a schedule and moving around between classes, students stay in the same classroom all day, and the teachers switch. Mr. Plicta described the second period teacher as being “less strict” than the first period teacher. In fact, as soon as the instructor began teaching, the “troublemakers” sitting in front of my young Spanish teacher turned around and began conversing with him.

Mr. Plicta, thinking he would get in trouble, was incredibly nervous at first, but his classmates assured him that “this” instructor didn’t care if they talked during class. It was only during first period that they “had to” pay attention.

And it was true, Mr. Plicta quietly conversed with these students for the whole hour, and not once did they get in trouble. It was the same group of students, the same exact classroom, but something had changed – the expectations.

The truth is that when students are faced with a set of reasonable expectations, they normally find it easier to meet them than to fight against them.

Having thought about this all day, I’ve found that the same concept applies in U.S. schools. I hear comments like “I just can’t focus in that class,” or “We have fun, but I don’t learn anything.” Many times, I wonder if our schools are just like the Brazilian classroom, where some teachers demand the students’ attention and others simply request it. Certainly, I‘ve seen this at work during my education.

The closest thing I’ve seen to a teaching style based solely off of expectations is from my band director. Every band student can get 100% just from showing up, yet many students choose to take on extra responsibilities like leadership positions, or volunteer work, not because they need to, but because they are expected to.

In a lot of ways, this contradicts both the “old-fashioned,” assembly-line, incentive-reward-based teaching as well as the “new-age,” flexible, and laid-back teaching style. In the old days, students were motivated by one thing: grades. Better grades meant more learning, and that meant a better education. Therefore, teachers only had to teach and assign, and student would align themselves in a satisfying bell-curve of success. Under this system, expectations had to be just ahead of the top students at all times, so they would never stop trying. As time went on, some teachers became reluctant to accept a system which so coldly and statistically rated children according to a fixed point-system. They felt that all children needed a chance to succeed, so they crafted a teaching style based on building relationships between students and teachers. This newer, more laid back teaching allowed students to all get A’s so long as they did the work. And as for classroom expectations, those became the enemy of the student-teacher connection that was so important for building a relationship. They became a dangerous weapon that had to be used sparingly, if ever.

But neither system seems to be in line with the needs of students. Students have to be trained for the workplace, but the current system does not achieve this. A business is like a massive machine and each employee is like a cog. There is no immediate feedback, every action is rated subjectively, and success has to come from one’s own initiative. Compare this to school, where feedback is immediately available from an objective rating system based on performance during standardized, required activities. There are almost no similarities.

So, how does this relate back to expectations? Expectations are a greatly underutilized teaching tool. They can let students experience pressure without giving them the cold certainty of being graded on a fixed scale. Moreover, they are not the enemy of student-teacher relationships. Students respect teachers who set high expectations and will normally rise to meet them. And teachers can achieve this without being judgmental or impassive. They just need to clearly state the rules.

Realistic expectations are a powerful tool when coming from a highly respected instructor. They don’t work when they are too high, or if the teacher is not taken seriously, but there is certainly something to be said for humans’ innate desire to meet them.

Politics in the 2nd Person

The United States government has problems.

Perhaps you know this. Perhaps you know that the governing institutions in the U.S. are failing to effectively govern, that Congress has not passed a federal budget in three and a half years, that the government closed in October due to a fight over healthcare, and that since the beginning of the decade, the U.S. government has nearly defaulted on its debt twice. Perhaps you’ve heard that meanwhile, Americans are dealing with a somewhat unimpressive economic recovery, voter apathy, and lack of optimism about the future. Perhaps you are aware that according to recent Gallup® polls, “dysfunctional government” has replaced issues like “economy” and “healthcare” at the top of Americans’ list of concerns.

But, perhaps you don’t care. You don’t pay attention to politics. It makes you depressed. Everyone is always yelling at each other, and nothing ever gets done, and no one ever changes their minds. It’s all so pointless.

And of course, you have opinions, but who doesn’t? You don’t talk about it much though, perhaps because you are aware that politics is not typically considered “polite” conversation. Merely mentioning the Affordable Care Act around Uncle Steve sets him off on a tirade that ruins Thanksgiving dinner. And everyone grumbles at whoever brought it up.

Perhaps you know that talking politics is somewhat taboo. And perhaps, you’re okay with that. You don’t like it when people make waves. You swear they only do it to draw attention to themselves. You can’t stand it when your friend’s dad proclaims about his right to own an assault weapon, or when that female secretary goes on and on about equal pay for women. And, those problems with the United States government, perhaps it’s the politician’s fault, or maybe the voters, or maybe the corporations, anyone but you, right?

You know about the challenges facing the U.S. You know that it’s falling behind in education and technology. You know that China’s GDP is going to surpass the U.S. around 2016, that the U.S. debt has inflated rapidly, and that no one ever seems to be able to do anything about it, least of all you. In all honesty, you’ve lost hope at this point. Perhaps you worry about your children, or your grandchildren. Will they enjoy the same stability that you grew up with? You and your friends have joked about moving to Canada, but will that actually be necessary? You’re not sure...

 ...because, perhaps you don’t know.

Perhaps you don’t know that these problems are fixable, that the complications within the U.S. are not “people problems”, but are instead, at their roots, failures created by the system itself - that the shocking behavior of politicians, voters, and lobbyists can be attributed to incentives created by the rules they follow. You might not know that the dysfunction in the United States government is hidden beneath the surface, and that the American people need to act like detectives in order to uncover the roots of the issues.

You might not have heard that people are already talking. Perhaps you are unaware that social media provides a perfect place to discuss politics, or that dozens of interests groups and charity organizations have sprung up and are really trying to make a difference. Perhaps you don’t know that all the great changes in American history happened because people got together and talked, that especially in troubled times like these, intelligent, educated, and creative people need to be discussing solutions. Perhaps no one has told you that American politics is complex, but it’s worth understanding. You don’t learn politics so you can be caught up in it; instead you learn it so you can transcend it.

Hopefully, now you know that the dysfunctional government is not unfixable, that every facet of the modern American political system is a cog in a broken machine.  Now you know that the machine can be fixed by removing or replacing its bad parts. Being the mechanic of a government is not easy, but if enough people start to get involved, if enough people gain a higher understanding of the political machinery, those people may cause a shift. Movements can happen, and perhaps, you are destined to be part of an important one.

Steampunk Story

On the day of the parade, all of Valyrica City funneled onto Main Street as trumpets and pipe organs blared the national anthem across town square. Shopkeepers closed for the day and displayed red and yellow banners in their windows while they clapped and cheered in front of their stores. Children stood on the backs of parents and grandparents and stared mouths agape as regiments of red-clad soldiers and coal-powered war machines strode past them. Some onlookers leaned out second story windows and waved handkerchiefs; others climbed atop roofs to witness the procession below.

I shoved my way along the storefront, following the mayor who rode a moving platform and waved graciously as fanatical townspeople roared. I was to meet the mayor at the end of the parade to speak with him. It was research for my job.

Moving swiftly, I brushed past a mother and two children who watched from behind the crowd. Single mothers had become all too common in Valyrica City, as well as across the whole nation of Tyrennia. Since the war had started, men who should have been raising families, some not much younger than I, had been shipped off to be killed.

The mother whom I passed looked dirty and fatigued; her children’s baggy clothes barely masked their malnourished bodies. The city had changed. On the other side of those clean shops was a slum filled with dozens of families just like this one, making due with very little, hoping that somehow their husbands, fathers, and sons would return safely. They simply wanted life to go back to normal, back to the way it was before the war. Back before the curfew, the martial law, and the nationalist fervor. Back before the media censorship and the sedition laws. Back before turrets were stationed atop every building and parades were held each week. All these things that drove me insane.

Yet for this war I could only blame myself; for I, Stanley Rinker, began it. I was responsible for the deaths of thousands of men, women, and children. I was to blame for the terrible conflict that had gripped the world for five years, for the oppressiveness of the Tyrennian government, and for the growth of the slums and decline of the economy. All of it was the direct result of my actions.

Five years ago, I met the Emperor of Hassar in a dark hallway of his palace at midnight. I had planned this meeting for months. My team had made sure we would meet alone. When I entered through a metal door from the courtyard, the emperor faced away from me. He walked down the hall, purple robes swaying with each pompous stride. He didn’t hear me shut the door, nor did he hear as I crept up behind him.

I knew I had started a war the second I plunged my assassin’s knife into his throat.

Steampunk: The Next Big Thing

“Steampunk” is a cross between Sic-fi and historical fiction that permeates many areas of modern pop culture. Originating from authors like H. G. Wells and Jules Verne, steampunk has grown to encompass entertainment, engineering, and even fashion. Steampunk is a genre based largely off of the Victorian Era. This time in history, encompassing Queen Victoria’s rule of Great Britain from 1837 to 1901, has become synonymous with the entire Industrial Revolution. Hence, steampunk is characterized by steam-powered technology and Victorian Era social conflicts. Examples of steampunk influence are everywhere. The Victorian Era, with its unique technologies, social upheavals, and sense of wonderment, can make an interesting backdrop for a marvelous story, be it in a movie, book, or video game.

This is the inside of a clock from the movie Hugo released in 2011.

The greatest source of intrigue surrounding steampunk is technology. Often, these stories will feature modern contraptions such as televisions and robots being powered by steam and coal. Examples include machines like Charles Babbage’s difference engine or steam-powered airships. These elaborate devices are strangely more interesting than their modern counterparts. Perhaps this is because there is a subtle charm associated with a machine clanking away at a task. Humans like to understand things on their level, and microcircuits in a wristwatch are just too tiny compared to massive clock towers. These mechanisms are monstrous and powerful, but at the same time quite delicate and graceful, contributing to a ubiquitous sense of wonder throughout a steampunk story.

The power of these machines, used correctly by the characters, can be made useful, or it can be abused and bring about suffering. It all harkens back to a time when technology really was both incredible and terrifying.  Steampunk is a branch of science fiction where technology is more than a part of the setting. Like in the Victorian Era, steampunk technology is a force that shapes the plot, and provides characters with meaningful and interesting choices.



A screenshot from Bioshock Infinite, a video game released in 2013. 

Often, steampunk influence means more than simply Victorian Era technologies. It means Victorian Era social conflicts and themes. Avatar the Last Airbender, for example, not only features steampunk technology like steam-powered ships and airships; it also presents the Victorian Era theme of imperialism. During the Industrial Revolution, technology changed the face of the world, contributing to mass migrations and conflict between different social groups. This era saw revolutions, movements, world wars, and the rise and collapse of nations.  A character in a Victorian setting may struggle with the monotony of city life or conflict between great empires, anything that expresses the shifting world around them.

Finally, the Victorian Era culture and mood is found in many steampunk works. Rugged individualism is a common thread as are the characteristics of city life. Dishonored is a video game set in the fictional City of Dunwall. The city is filled with Victorian Era technologies like factories and pistols, and also Victorian themes dealing with urbanization like plague and poverty. Corvo, the protagonist, is exemplary of a rebellious attitude and a disregard for authority. This archetype is common of main characters in steampunk works, a personality likely borrowed from the culture of the late 19^th century, a time when city-dwellers had to find hope in a world of sameness and ambitions were larger than governments. This culture is a defining feature of Victorian fiction.



A steampunk Halloween costume.

Perhaps, steampunk stories are intriguing because they remind us of ourselves. We too live in a time where technology instills both wonder and concern, when we face a period of great social and political change. Lastly, the lessons about human nature echo through the centuries. In the end, we find things fascinating when they speak to us. Steampunk movies and books offer a glance into a forgone era, but also a window into our own. The job of a great steampunk storyteller is done when the viewer uses the social conflicts in the story to spot injustices in our world, or when they suddenly think of a great idea for an invention. It is done when the reader takes a second look at modern technology, and for once in a long while, feels that childlike sense of wonderment.

My Greatest Fear

            Washcloths absolutely make my skin crawl. I know it’s weird. Most people are afraid of spiders, snakes, or rats; but for me, the slimy texture and menacing shape of a washcloth is enough to make me quiver. When my mother and I wash the dishes, I have to dry.

            Most of the time, washcloths hide in the dark corners of cupboards and cabinets where I never see them, but when they do find me, I am usually naked and vulnerable, mostly when I’m in the shower. They appear in the corner, or hanging from a towel rack, dripping water on to the floor tiles. Sometimes, I imagine them slithering up my leg and wrapping their bodies around my thighs. Other times, I fear they will drop onto my face, blinding me as they run cold, greasy water down my throat. When they become old and worn, threads begin to hang down off of them like strands of a witch’s hair. In my mind’s eye, those threads are tentacles that will entrap me and ooze across my back.

            I know not why this irrational fear began in me, but my imagination certainly doesn’t help to alleviate it. A few years ago, following an evening during which I drank too much Mountain Dew, I experienced the worst nightmare of my life. I stood in a massive, dimly-lit chamber with a low ceiling from which hung hundreds of washcloths of all colors. The rags dangled like lynched corpses. As I moved, they brushed up against my hair, and icy water dripped onto my head and shoulders before trickling down my torso and finally collecting on my fingertips. My eyes darted around. There was no exit.

            Finally, I started to run. The pace of my breathing quickened. But no matter how fast I sprinted, I couldn’t escape the forest of washcloths. In the corner of my eye, I watched one drop from the ceiling and plop onto the stone floor. I suddenly became aware of the fact that I was barefoot. The hair on my legs stood on end. Then a cloth in front of me dropped, then another to my left. Soon, all the washcloths began to splatter to the ground and slither my way. They were faster than me and I couldn’t escape them. Then I tripped and fell. The slimy swarm surged across me. They covered my eyes. I felt them slinking around my neck. Finally, one of the monsters crawled onto my lips, covering my mouth. I could not scream. The washcloth then entered my throat, choking me. Unable to breath, I awoke in a cold sweat.

            Because of my fear, I can’t trust any fabric. A washcloth could be any old rag: my favorite shirt from when I was three, a piece of an old pillowcase I used to sleep on, or any other old, rejected textile. Washcloths are outcasts, rejects – mercenaries. They simply hide in dark corners, waiting for a tedious cleaning job that may never come. They are sad and useless, their best days behind them. When I was younger, I used to fear they would attack me. Now, I fear their very nature. Washcloths are throw-away items, unloved and unneeded. I used to have more fear of what they would do to me; but now, my greatest horror is that I might one day become one.

A Chance Encounter

This is based on a true story my father told me which happened to a woman he worked with.

One day, a middle-aged black woman was driving down a highway on her way to work when she spotted an old, rusty car parked on the side of the road with its hood popped.  Because she was feeling unusually generous that day, she decided to pull over and see if the driver needed help.

Upon leaving her car and approaching the window, the woman spotted the distraught driver, a younger man with his bald head planted on the steering wheel and long, spindly arms strewn atop the dashboard. Although the man was bald, he was not clean-shaven, and his arms were covered in dirt and grease. He wore torn blue-jeans and a tucked-in, plaid polo. The woman’s friends would probably call him a “redneck”. The man was obviously distressed.

“Would you like a jump-start,” the woman asked, in her most business-like voice.

Suddenly, the man lifted his neck, silently, much like a dog that has been awoken by a noise. His eyes were wide. Tattooed across his face was a massive blue swastika. The black woman was taken aback, but tried to maintain her facial expression. She wasn’t sure whether she should hit the man, or just walk away. Yet, perhaps due to her unusually generous mood, she did neither.  Instead, she clenched her fists at her sides, absorbed a shallow breath, and maintained her gaze upon him.

By now, the man in the car had turned his face back towards the windshield. He merely cast the woman a nervous sideways glance. His fist too, was clenched at his side, and the other hand gripped his bald head. His expression: a mixture of frustration, nervousness, and embarrassment. A few seconds of silence passed, and the man contemplated the situation.

“Well, I usually don’t accept help from black people,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, resolute.

The woman replied, her tone also resolute, “Well, I usually don’t help Nazis…” She paused. “But today, let’s just be people.”

So, the man reluctantly agreed to let her jump start his car. The two focused on the task, speaking about nothing else. When the engine of the man’s car started, the two stood alone on the side of the highway.

Then, the man asked nervously, “Can I approach you?”

The woman was uncertain, but steeled herself and replied: “Yes, you may.”

To the black woman’s surprise, the bald man with the swastika on his face came up and hugged her. Then, he said with tears in his eyes: “I was taught that black people were evil, that they only cared about themselves and would never help me with anything. Now, you are here. It’s amazing.”

“Well,” the woman replied, “I was taught that Nazis are evil, that they are horrible racists who hate me and want to kill me. But today, we’re just people.”

Then, the two drove away.

Learning Dyads

People sometimes ask me where I learned to play the piano. Usually, I tell them “it’s complicated”. Piano and I have a mixed history. I started out taking formal lessons and hating it. Only when I came back later and taught myself without worrying about formalities did I actually learn. My experience reveals the flaws in traditional education. As I later learned, formal teaching has an awful tendency to highlight rules and restrictions, whereas informal teaching can help students learn better because it lets them see the possibilities.

I started my formal education in the 1^st grade when by beloved parents, hoping to raise a well-rounded individual, signed me up for lessons at Andrews University and gave me full permission to utilize the grand piano we kept in our living room. My instructor was a Chilean pianist named Marcello who played at our church every week. By all logical assessments, he was the perfect teacher, having won several awards in his home country, as well as being beloved by all my fellow Presbyterians each Sunday.  And despite the fact that his thick Spanish accent often caused him to mangle my first name (“Avon” or something like that), I thought he was okay as well.

However, there was one thing about which my feelings were clear: playing piano.  More precisely, I couldn’t stand it. To my seven-year-old self, piano lessons seemed like torture. From my point of view, learning to play required one to obey many ridiculous rules about posture and proper thumb placement. I was bored out of my mind using only one hand to start with, all the while listening to Marcello remind me to “kap my wrists op ”. I found it all so frustrating that I almost never practiced. Really, it was only a matter of time before I quit playing. After only a year, my parents told Marcello that we were no longer interested in piano lessons. I never moved past the beginner’s book. For over four years, the grand piano sat in our house unused, serving as a constant reminder of my failure.

Everything changed late in the summer after my 5^th grade year. For whatever reason, be it a desire for redemption or just shear boredom, I sat down on that old wooden bench and began pressing keys.  Sure enough, I sucked. The amazing part was that I didn’t care. Using my two pointer fingers, I would press down two keys simultaneously. Sometimes, this produced quite a pleasing sound; yet other times, it made me cringe.  I must have sat there for at least an hour puzzling over this. Then, my father walked by and witnessed my experimentation. He smiled and informed me that the pairs of notes I was playing are called “dyads”.

Over the next several years, I took part in an informal, relaxed education. I moved past the dyads, learning piano and music theory all at once. Ignoring all the rules made it fun. Sometimes, I would twang the strings inside instead of pressing keys, or I might do both at once. I began writing little songs, then medium-sized songs, and later, full-fledged musical compositions with a chorus and verses. My family was delighted that I was becoming interested in piano, but several times I threatened to stop practicing if they enrolled me in lessons. Now, people enjoy my playing enough to ask me where I learned it.

All of this begs the question: “Does structured teaching actually work?” After all, I had only begun to improve my piano playing when I began teaching myself. It is very counter-intuitive to think that structured teaching can actually prevent students from learning. 

Formal education seems have a tendency to focus on rules and syntax, which bores students. As a result, they have trouble remembering. Rules can be important in many areas. In science, for example, the metric system is required because it allows easy communication between scientists. The important thing is to avoid becoming too caught up in the rules. When students are presented with a list of restrictions and limitations, they become apathetic toward that subject area, much in the same way that I became apathetic toward piano playing early on.

Beyond being incredibly boring, this formal method of instruction is not reflexive of reality. In the real world, humans do not know everything and there are still many possibilities in all subject areas. Imagine if instead of memorizing the Pythagorean Theorem, students “discovered” it by investigating the relationship between the sides of a triangle. What if students, instead of looking at Moe’s Hardness Scale in their science book, collected minerals and tested their relative hardness by rubbing them up against each other? When people figure things out on their own, they learn much better. It seems that all the best teachers understand this simple notion.

To be clear, I am not saying that teachers are useless and academic doctrine prevents students from learning. Honestly, I can see a place for both formal and informal schooling. Formal teaching has helped me develop many other skills like playing the trumpet, spelling words, and deciphering algebraic equations. In addition, even though I learned piano playing better without formal lessons, my informal approach has some setbacks. For example, I cannot score any of the music that I compose, because I never learned to read or write piano music. Also, I cannot effectively use the pedals. Still, I am glad I sat down at the bench on that summer day all those years ago. If I had not, I never would have developed this skill that has become such a beloved hobby.

Looking back, maybe the important change was not in the way I was learning piano playing, but in my attitude toward it. When I began to think of it as an inventive skill instead of a highly structured one, piano playing started to represent a creative outlet. When I no longer cared if I sounded horrid, I could simply enjoy experimenting.  Teachers must learn to focus on the possibilities inherent in their subject areas as opposed to the rules or requirements to which they adhere. They need to make their students want to learn.

This methodology can be applied to writing as well. I need to think of it as a canvas instead of a doctrine. It does not matter if my writing is awful. I’ll just keep experimenting, learning the word combinations that sound pleasant, and those which make my readers cringe. In other words, I may be “writing dyads” now; but, I hope to be able to write in symphonies later on.

All in all, recognize the dyads that people are playing all around. Encourage them. Let them learn. My piano playing improved only when I let myself make mistakes. Don’t hand out answers. Students remember much better if they figure things out on their own, perhaps with a subtle push from a talented instructor. Above all, remember that although rules are important, they should not be the central focus of any course. Focusing on restrictions instead of possibilities does any subject area a great injustice.