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robertogreco : sensitivity   8

Trinh T. Minh-ha on Vimeo
"Trinh Minh-ha operates on the boundary of documentary, experimental and traditional film, focusing on several powerful themes. As well as the status of women in society, she examines the life of migrants, portraits of whom she depicts in the background of the dynamic relationship between traditional and modern societies. The artist calls these figures the “inappropriate/d other”, and says in one of her interviews: “We can read the term “inappropriate/d other” in both ways, as someone whom you cannot appropriate, and as someone who is inappropriate. Not quite other, not quite the same.”

However, anyone expecting objective documentaries in this exhibition will be surprised. Trinh Minh-ha draws on her own experience, transforming the personal into the public and socially engaged, and in this way her films becomes “poetic-political” works. The artist’s sensitivity and empathy is not simply a way of presenting political themes in a user-friendly way, but is also manifest in unobtrusively recurring motifs of love and friendships.

What are the most powerful impressions we receive from films by Trinh Minh-ha? Firstly, there is a balance to her treatment of themes that offers the viewer the possibility of examining things from many different perspectives. Then there is the persistence with which she attempts to offer a three-dimensional image of “those others”.

However, even upon a first viewing our attention is caught by something else. Trinh Minh-ha works with the viewer’s senses, which she attempts to provoke into total vigilance. The sounds and music she uses are not any in any sense background, but at certain moments take over the narrative role, at others withdraw discreetly in order to allow the actors themselves to speak. The combination of stylised interviewers and theatrical scenes, modified in the postproduction stage by archival materials and linear film narration, along with sounds and suggestive colours, creates an almost synaesthetic experience, in which words express the same as sounds and colours. However, concentration on the part of the viewer is essential. How, otherwise, might they perceive all these levels simultaneously with the same intensity? How can such films be shown in a gallery? How does one create an environment in which the visitor does not just gaze, but accepts the role of a genuine film audience? Walls and chairs soundproofed in soft foam and the proximity of the screen will perhaps make it easier to accept the role of attentive viewers, who will insist on following a film from beginning to end."
trinhminh-ha  2015  film  documentary  migration  othering  vigilance  sensitivity  empathy  society  others  appropriate  inappropriate  innappropriated  gaze  concentration  attention 
april 2019 by robertogreco
how to do nothing – Jenny Odell – Medium
[video: https://vimeo.com/232544904 ]

"What I would do there is nothing. I’d just sit there. And although I felt a bit guilty about how incongruous it seemed — beautiful garden versus terrifying world — it really did feel necessary, like a survival tactic. I found this necessity of doing nothing so perfectly articulated in a passage from Gilles Deleuze in Negotiations:
…we’re riddled with pointless talk, insane quantities of words and images. Stupidity’s never blind or mute. So it’s not a problem of getting people to express themselves but of providing little gaps of solitude and silence in which they might eventually find something to say. Repressive forces don’t stop people expressing themselves but rather force them to express themselves; what a relief to have nothing to say, the right to say nothing, because only then is there a chance of framing the rare, and ever rarer, thing that might be worth saying. (emphasis mine)

He wrote that in 1985, but the sentiment is something I think we can all identify with right now, almost to a degree that’s painful. The function of nothing here, of saying nothing, is that it’s a precursor to something, to having something to say. “Nothing” is neither a luxury nor a waste of time, but rather a necessary part of meaningful thought and speech."



"In The Bureau of Suspended Objects, a project I did while in residence at Recology SF (otherwise known as the dump), I spent three months photographing, cataloguing and researching the origins of 200 objects. I presented them as browsable archive in which people could scan the objects’ tags and learn about the manufacturing, material, and corporate histories of the objects.

One woman at the Recology opening was very confused and said, “Wait… so did you actually make anything? Or did you just put things on shelves?” (Yes, I just put things on shelves.)"



"That’s an intellectual reason for making nothing, but I think that in my cases, it’s something simpler than that. Yes, the BYTE images speak in interesting and inadvertent ways about some of the more sinister aspects of technology, but I also just really love them.

This love of one’s subject is something I’m provisionally calling the observational eros. The observational eros is an emotional fascination with one’s subject that is so strong it overpowers the desire to make anything new. It’s pretty well summed up in the introduction of Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, where he describes the patience and care involved in close observation of one’s specimens:
When you collect marine animals there are certain flat worms so delicate that they are almost impossible to capture whole, for they break and tatter under the touch. You must let them ooze and crawl of their own will onto a knife blade and then lift them gently into your bottle of sea water. And perhaps that might be the way to write this book — to open the page and let the stories crawl in by themselves.

The subject of observation is so precious and fragile that it risks breaking under even the weight of observation. As an artist, I fear the breaking and tattering of my specimens under my touch, and so with everything I’ve ever “made,” without even thinking about it, I’ve tried to keep a very light touch.

It may not surprise you to know, then, that my favorite movies tend to be documentaries, and that one of my favorite public art pieces was done by the documentary filmmaker, Eleanor Coppola. In 1973, she carried out a public art project called Windows, which materially speaking consisted only of a map with a list of locations in San Francisco.

The map reads, “Eleanor Coppola has designated a number of windows in all parts of San Francisco as visual landmarks. Her purpose in this project is to bring to the attention of the whole community, art that exists in its own context, where it is found, without being altered or removed to a gallery situation.” I like to consider this piece in contrast with how we normally experience public art, which is some giant steel thing that looks like it landed in a corporate plaza from outer space.

Coppola instead casts a subtle frame over the whole of the city itself as a work of art, a light but meaningful touch that recognizes art that exists where it already is."



"What amazed me about birdwatching was the way it changed the granularity of my perception, which was pretty “low res” to begin with. At first, I just noticed birdsong more. Of course it had been there all along, but now that I was paying attention to it, I realized that it was almost everywhere, all day, all the time. In particular I can’t imagine how I went most of my life so far without noticing scrub jays, which are incredibly loud and sound like this:

[video]

And then, one by one, I started learning other songs and being able to associate each of them with a bird, so that now when I walk into the the rose garden, I inadvertently acknowledge them in my head as though they were people: hi raven, robin, song sparrow, chickadee, goldfinch, towhee, hawk, nuthatch, and so on. The diversification (in my attention) of what was previously “bird sounds” into discrete sounds that carry meaning is something I can only compare to the moment that I realized that my mom spoke three languages, not two.

My mom has only ever spoken English to me, and for a very long time, I assumed that whenever my mom was speaking to another Filipino person, that she was speaking Tagalog. I didn’t really have a good reason for thinking this other than that I knew she did speak Tagalog and it sort of all sounded like Tagalog to me. But my mom was actually only sometimes speaking Tagalog, and other times speaking Ilonggo, which is a completely different language that is specific to where she’s from in the Philippines.

The languages are not the same, i.e. one is not simply a dialect of the other; in fact, the Philippines is full of language groups that, according to my mom, have so little in common that speakers would not be able to understand each other, and Tagalog is only one.

This type of embarrassing discovery, in which something you thought was one thing is actually two things, and each of those two things is actually ten things, seems not only naturally cumulative but also a simple function of the duration and quality of one’s attention. With effort, we can become attuned to things, able to pick up and then hopefully differentiate finer and finer frequencies each time.

What these moments of stopping to listen have in common with those labyrinthine spaces is that they all initially enact some kind of removal from the sphere of familiarity. Even if brief or momentary, they are retreats, and like longer retreats, they affect the way we see everyday life when we do come back to it."



"Even the labyrinths I mentioned, by their very shape, collect our attention into these small circular spaces. When Rebecca Solnit, in her book Wanderlust, wrote about walking in the labyrinth inside the Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, she said, “The circuit was so absorbing I lost sight of the people nearby and hardly heard the sound of the traffic and the bells for six o’clock.”

In the case of Deep Listening, although in theory it can be practiced anywhere at any time, it’s telling that there have also been Deep Listening retreats. And Turrell’s Sky Pesher not only removes the context from around the sky, but removes you from your surroundings (and in some ways, from the context of your life — given its underground, tomblike quality)."



"My dad said that leaving the confined context of a job made him understand himself not in relation to that world, but just to the world, and forever after that, things that happened at work only seemed like one small part of something much larger. It reminds me of how John Muir described himself not as a naturalist but as a “poetico-trampo-geologist-botanist and ornithologist-naturalist etc. etc.”, or of how Pauline Oliveros described herself in 1974: “Pauline Oliveros is a two legged human being, female, lesbian, musician, and composer among other things which contribute to her identity. She is herself and lives with her partner, along with assorted poultry, dogs, cats, rabbits and tropical hermit crabs.” Incidentally, this has encouraged me to maybe change my bio to: “Jenny Odell is an artist, professor, thinker, walker, sleeper, eater, and amateur birdnoticer.”

3. the precarity of nothing

There’s an obvious critique of all of this, and that’s that it comes from a place of privilege. I can go to the rose garden, or stare into trees all day, because I have a teaching job that only requires me to be somewhere two days a week, not to mention a whole set of other privileges. Part of the reason my dad could take that time off was that on some level, he had enough reason to think he could get another job. It’s possible to understand the practice of doing nothing solely as a self-indulgent luxury, the equivalent of taking a mental health day if you’re lucky enough to work at a place that has those.

But here I come back to Deleuze’s “right to say nothing,” and although we can definitely say that this right is variously accessible or even inaccessible for some, I believe that it is indeed a right. For example, the push for an 8-hour workday in 1886 called for “8 hours of work, 8 hours of rest, and 8 hours of what we will.” I’m struck by the quality of things that associated with the category “What we Will”: rest, thought, flowers, sunshine.

These are bodily, human things, and this bodily-ness is something I will come back to. When Samuel Gompers, who led the labor group that organized this particular iteration of the 8-hour movement, was asked, “What does labor want?” he responded, “It wants the earth and the fullness thereof.” And to me it seems significant that it’s not 8 hours of, say, “leisure” or “… [more]
jennyodell  idleness  nothing  art  eyeo2017  photoshop  specimens  care  richardprince  gillesdeleuze  recology  internetarchive  sanfrancisco  eleanorcoppola  2017  1973  maps  mapping  scottpolach  jamesturrell  architecture  design  structure  labyrinths  oakland  juliamorgan  chapelofthechimes  paulineoliveros  ucsd  1970s  deeplisening  listening  birds  birdwatching  birding  noticing  classideas  observation  perception  time  gracecathedral  deeplistening  johncage  gordonhempton  silence  maintenance  conviviality  technology  bodies  landscape  ordinary  everyday  cyclicality  cycles  1969  mierleladermanukeles  sensitivity  senses  multispecies  canon  productivity  presence  connectivity  conversation  audrelorde  gabriellemoss  fomo  nomo  nosmo  davidabram  becominganimal  animals  nature  ravens  corvids  crows  bluejays  pets  human-animalrelations  human-animalelationships  herons  dissent  rowe  caliressler  jodythompson  francoberardi  fiverr  popos  publicspace  blackmirror  anthonyantonellis  facebook  socialmedia  email  wpa  history  bayarea  crowdcontrol  mikedavis  cityofquartz  er 
july 2017 by robertogreco
Queering Outer Space — Space + Anthropology — Medium
"It’s time to queer outer space.

Since the Space Shuttle program was retired in 2011, the U.S. space agency NASA has turned over much of the work on space transportation to private corporations and the “commercial crew” program. As venture capitalist space entrepreneurs and aerospace contractors compete to profit from space exploration, we’re running up against increasingly conflicting visions for human futures in outer space. Narratives of military tactical dominance alongside “NewSpace” ventures like asteroid mining projects call for the defense, privatization, and commodification of space and other worlds, framing space as a resource-rich “frontier” to be “settled” in what amounts to a new era of colonization (Anker 2005; Redfield 2000; Valentine 2012).

However, from at least the 1970s, some space scientists have challenged this trajectory of resource extraction, neo-colonialism, and reproduction of earthly political economies with alternative visions of the future (McCray 2012). Today’s “visionary” space scientists imagine space exploration as a source of transformative solutions to earthly problems such as climate change, economic inequality, conflict, and food insecurity (Grinspoon 2003; Hadfield 2013; Sagan 1994; Shostak 2013; Tyson 2012; Vakoch 2013).

Elsewhere I’m doing research on all of this as a PhD student in anthropology, but here I want to argue that we must go even further than academically interrogating the military and corporate narratives of space “exploration” and “colonization.” We must water, fertilize,and tend the seeds of alternative visions of possible futures in space, not only seeking solutions to earthly problems which are trendy at the moment, but actively queering outer space and challenging the future to be even more queer.

I’m queering the word queer here — I want to use it to call for more people of color, more indigenous voices, more women, more LGBTQetc., more alternative voices to the dominant narratives of space programs and space exploration. I want to use queer to stand in for a kind of intersectionality that I can speak from without appropriating or speaking on behalf of others, as a queer person. So by saying queer, I’m not trying to subsume other identities and struggles into the queer ones, but calling out to them and expressing solidarity and respect for difference in joint struggle, I’m inviting you all. I also don’t want to write “intersectionalize” outer space but it’s basically what I mean. So, when I use it here queer is not marriage equality and the HRC and heteronormativity mapped onto cis, white, gay, male characters ready for a television show. It’s also not me with my own limited corner of queer, minority, and disability experience. Queer is deeply and fully queer. As Charlie, an awesome person I follow on twitter calls it: “queer as heck.”

So in this way queer is also, if you’ll permit it, a call-out to mad pride, Black power, sex workers, disability pride, Native pride, polyamory, abolitionist veganism, the elderly, imprisoned people, indigenous revolutionaries, impoverished people, anarchism, linguistic minorities, people living under occupation, and much more. It’s all those ways that we are given no choice but to move in the between spaces of social, economic, and environmental life because the highways and sidewalks are full of other people whose identity, behavior, politics, and sensitivities aren’t questioned all the time, and they won’t budge.

In a sense, it’s the old definition of queer as odd — because when they tell you that you don’t belong, you don’t fit it, you’re unusual, then you’re queer. It’s that feeling that you’re walking behind those five people walking side-by-side who won’t let you pass becuase you’re not one of them. Queer is radical, marginal, partial, torn, assembled, defiant, emergent selves — queer is also non-human — from stones and mountains to plants and ‘invasive’ species. I know, you’re thinking: then what isn’t queer? But, if you’re asking that — the answer might be you.

***

I. Queer Lives in Orbit…

II. De-colonizing Mars and Beyond…

III. Extraterrestrial Allies

IV. Generations of Queer Futures"
michaeloman-reagan  2015  socialscience  space  outerspace  anthropology  colonization  race  gender  sexuality  multispecies  sciencefiction  scifi  science  spaceexploration  decolonization  donnaharaway  chrishadfield  davidgrinspoon  carlsagan  sethshostak  peterredfield  nasa  colinmilburn  patrickmccray  walidahimarisha  adriennemareebrown  frederikceyssens  maartendriesen  kristofwouters  marleenbarr  pederanker  100yss  racism  sexism  xenophobia  naisargidave  queerness  queer  DNLee  lisamesseri  elonmusk  mars  occupy  sensitivity  inclusinvity  inclusion  identity  inlcusivity  inclusivity 
september 2015 by robertogreco
Making SRCCON Good for Humans | Knight-Mozilla OpenNews
"In our first year of planning SRCCON, we knew we wanted attendees be able to focus completely on the conference experience itself: sessions, activities, and other official stuff, but also the conversations in hallways and corners that are usually a highlight of gatherings of enthusiastic colleagues. To make that possible, we tried to arrange the SRCCON schedule, space, and life-support systems to be as accommodating and helpful as possible. And to be clear, that’s not the same thing as being fancy. We ran the conference on a nonprofit budget, and nothing we did was geared toward luxury—instead, we tried to just handle the basics thoughtfully so that attendees could relax and enjoy the work and socializing.

To assemble our wish-list of humane elements, we began by collecting our own experiences as frequent conference-goers and event organizers—and as people with widely differing family situations, metabolic needs, and feelings about coffee. And then we started working through the next order of human needs: the ones that none of us had, but that we might expect to encounter in a group the size of SRCCON, and that we’d heard people wish for at other events. Our list will certainly continue to evolve, but here’s our progress report from last year, and the things we’re keeping a close eye on for SRCCON 2015.

ATTENTION & RHYTHMS

For most people, a successful conference experience is only fractionally about the content of the sessions themselves. “Hallway conversations” are some of our favorite parts of any conference, so we built generous breaks in between sessions, as well as a long morning breakfast with enough real food that people could come straight to the venue in the morning and not starve. We also created a DIY coffee-hacking station in the center of our conference space—in part to ensure access to delicious hot drinks, but also to give attendees a semi-structured way to hang out and do something low-pressure together during breaks, or instead of attending a session during a given schedule block.

Our evening block on the first night of the conference was also about keeping attendees together, but breaking up the kinds of attention they were using. Instead of more sessions about coding and data in newsrooms, people ran cooking skillshares, played tabletop games, did lightning talks, and worked on projects together. And because we expected that folks would keep socializing well into the night, we started sessions at 11am on the second morning out of respect for early-morning zombie feels.

Lastly, we kept organizational affiliation off of the attendee nametags to help people connect in an individual, collegial ways and reduce conversational barriers and assumptions based on affiliation. (No one ever intends to do that kind of social shortcutting, but once sleepy conference-brain kicks in, it’s as hard to ignore as an airport TV, so we did what we could to help nix it.)

NOTES FOR NEXT TIME
Our session length options needed a little tuning, so we’re experimenting with a greater variety of length and format possibilities this year. And on the subtler side, we’ll be paying more attention this year to the culture markers we explicitly endorse as part of the evening events. Plenty of people enjoyed extra-nerdy references in our evening setup, but we also heard from some who found those elements alienating, so we’re thinking through ways of offering nerd-culture options without making people uncomfortable.

EATING & DRINKING

We planned the catered meals at SRCCON to be plentiful, varied, reasonably healthy, and friendly to many dietary preferences and restrictions. We also kept snack stations full of fresh fruit and vegetables, nuts and other protein snacks, and a few sweet things to keep everyone’s energy steady through the day. Our coffee-hacking station complemented catered coffee, tea, and sodas, and we had plenty of water at all times—which is the kind of thing I wish I didn’t need to list, but isn’t always the case at conferences.

On the allergy and dietary preferences tip, we made sure there were hot meals (and even morning doughnuts) that worked for people with gluten intolerances and common food allergies, as well as solid vegetarian and vegan options. SRCCON took place during Ramadan, so we also offered delayed meal options for anyone observing a fast.

When we offered alcohol, we also offered non-alcoholic drinks, and we served food at the same time to make it less likely for anyone to accidentally drink more than they’d intended. After dinner was cleared, we brought in ice cream and held activities throughout the space so that there were plenty of things to do that weren’t drinking-centric.

Finally, the director of events at the Chemical Heritage Foundation was able to connect us with a local shelter organization to make sure untouched food—a liability in any catering scenario—would go to good use and not be wasted.

NOTES FOR NEXT TIME
This year, we plan to include a more serious tea-making operation as well as the coffee-hacking equipment, and to get a little more hardline about labeling on the catered food, some of which had allergen labels and some of which didn’t, just for added peace of mind.

OTHER THINGS ABOUT ACCOMMODATING EMBODIED HUMANS

In addition to holding SRCCON in a wheelchair-accessible space, we brought in a live transcription team from White Coat Captioning (about which much more later this week) to livestream captions of three concurrent sessions throughout the event. For parents, we offered a free subscription to SitterCity, a childcare matchmaking service, and a clean, secure space for pumping and nursing. And, of course, we offered a clear code of conduct underpinned by action and safety plans.

NOTES FOR NEXT TIME
This year, we are taking a big step forward on childcare and offering licensed on-site care to all SRCCON attendees in a friendly space at the conference hotel next door, for free. We’ll also post meeting information for local AA chapters and other peer support groups so that it’s easy to find, and we’re absolutely taking the Ada Initiative’s suggestion to use color-coded lanyards to visually mark photo policy preferences.

ONWARD/UPWARD

Our goal was to be good enough at meeting basic human needs that people could focus on what they came to SRCCON for: learning together, hanging out with peers and colleagues, and having fun. In our first year of running the conference, we did pretty well, though we came out with a laundry list of things to do better this year.

Notably, none of the specific tasks we took on were particularly challenging, and many weren’t even expensive—they just involved taking the needs of a larger group into consideration when we made initial plans, rather than at the very end of the process (or not at all). For the pieces that did involve greater expense, we found that sponsors were very willing to help us come up with the money to help make SRCCON more accessible and more humane. Maybe most importantly, we learned that taking time up front to be thoughtful about human needs paid tremendous dividends at the event itself in the form of happy, rested, relaxed colleagues.

As always, we thrive on feedback and questions, so please send us a note if you have either one."
2015  erinkissane  srccon  events  conferences  eventplanning  inclusion  inclusivity  childcare  scheduling  food  sensitivity  conferenceplanning  inlcusivity 
april 2015 by robertogreco
Will · Can We Talk About Change Without Hurting Feelings?
“Last night, George Couros Tweeted this:
“I think when we say things like ‘school is broken’ it really demeans the hard work of so many educators who make school awesome everyday.”

As I would have expected, it was retweeted and favorited widely. The sentiment is, of course, that the failures of schools, perceived or real, shouldn’t be ascribed to the teachers who work with our kids every day. As George suggests, there are a great number of caring, smart, hard working adults in schools around the world who are trying to make school “the best seven-hours of a kids day” as my friend Gary Stager puts it.

What I can’t read in that Tweet is to what extent George feels schools are in fact “broken,” if he feels that way at all. And if they are failing in some aspects, is it possible to say that without “demeaning” the people that work in them?

As someone who finds the experience of traditional schooling to be increasingly out of step with the real world, and as someone who has come to believe that schools actually are “broken” in many ways, how do I write and speak about those viewpoints without being heard or read as hurtful or demeaning to educators in schools? Is that possible?

And if schools are in fact “broken” in either large or small ways, are we to hold all teachers blameless for that? Really?"
willrichardson  2015  georgecouros  sensitivity  education  schools  teachers  constructivecriticism  systemsthinking  policy  unschooling  deschooling 
march 2015 by robertogreco
Michael Shanks: Archaeologies of the contemporary past
"The origin of many of the ideas here can be tracked back to Reconstructing Archaeology written with Chris Tilley, particularly through my book Experiencing the Past - where I sketched the elements of a contemporary archaeolgical sensibility - see now The Archaeological Imagination - a new work revisiting these matters."

"Embodiment and archaeologies of the ineffable: photographs and archaeological objects can introduce the heterogeneous and ineffable into discourse, that richness and detail in every photograph and artefact which lies outside the categories and schemes of discourse. I use the term embodiment to introduce bodily sensitivity as a means of suspending our conventional categorisations and a means of achieving more textured understanding of social realities. Photographs and artefacts can help us attend to materiality by saying "look at what has been omitted", rather than "look, believe this text". An imperative here is to keep open things which are passed over in an instant. Archaeological source materials are, after all, of a material world with a distinctive temporality. The challenge is to work with this.

To end then I extend an invitation to conceive of the dialectical text and image as tangent to the past - a vector (from the present) touching the past at the point of sense and then moving off to explore its own course, partaking of actuality, the temporality of memory. Such texts are part of a method which lends contexts of all sorts to images, words and artifacts. Good archaeology is such a humanistic discipline which is dialectical because it denies the dualisms of past and present, objective and subjective, real and fictive, with all their pernicious variations. We may work instead upon the continuities which run through our encounters with the shattered remains of the dead."
christilley  michaelshanks  archaeology  photography  documentation  anthropology  past  present  words  artifacts  memory  time  humanism  humanities  dialectic  dialog  sensitivity  discourse  temporality  via:selinjessa  dialogue  vectors 
march 2013 by robertogreco
On Negative Criticism : The New Yorker
"I’m reminded of a great scene from a great movie—Sofia Coppola’s “Somewhere,” in which the protagonist, an actor (played by Stephen Dorff) strips naked for a massage. His masseur (not his usual one) prepares to administer the massage by taking off his own clothes, telling the actor, “I feel that if my client is naked, it’s more comfortable if I meet them on the same level.” The relationship, of course, is not on the same level— the actor is prone and vulnerable and the masseur looms above, active and handling the client—which renders their nakedness altogether incomparable. There’s no particular method for practicing criticism, no technique to prescribe and no tone to recommend, any more than there is for art. It’s a matter of sensibility—and of sensitivity."
dwightgarner  jacobsilverman  negativecriticism  music  art  film  enthusiasm  via:caseygollan  richardbrody  2012  sensibility  sensitivity  criticism 
august 2012 by robertogreco
Apt. 11D: Governor Christie Pushes For Merit Pay and Tenure Reform
[via: http://ayjay.tumblr.com/post/1216615980/quantification-in-most-professions-is-being-used ]

A comment: "Quantification in most professions is being used to keep us from having to shoulder the messy burden of making human, intimate judgments, or explaining why we value what we value. They usually end up being the architectural equivalent of trying to build a cathedral without arches, stained glass, multiple sizes of stone, gargoyles or any other idiosyncratic part that deviates from the standard stone block used in a standard stone wall. …

A school that’s all about rewarding people who teach to the tests or who look good even on a robust, multivariable scale, is almost certainly going to overlook good teaching that misses the metric, teaching which a humane, sensitive supervisor might notice and reward.

Because we know that humane, sensitive supervisors are relatively rare, we look to the numbers as insurance against that rarity. I’d rather figure out how to make humane sensitivity the first requirement of institutional leadership."
education  quanitifcation  measurement  tcsnmy  learning  schools  teaching  human  humanity  sensitivity  leadership  deschooling  unschooling  administration  management  judgement  accountability  values  rewards  testing  standards  standardization  standardizedtesting  metrics  toshare  topost  shrequest1 
october 2010 by robertogreco

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