Tag: cambridge life

Parroting

Earlier this year, we had a highly knowledgeable, experienced and opinionated lecturer for an intensive ten day unit. Let’s call him Johnson. In those ten days, we had to read the texts Johnson nominated and write essays in response. He wrote many of the nominated texts, which were littered with references to his previous work, as well as other writers who agreed with him. It is a long-running joke amongst my classmates to quote our lecturer, saying, ‘Johnson citing Johnson citing Johnson…’

As you might imagine, we got a one-sided view of the topics he covered. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was an extremely worthwhile unit. I have never been so challenged, traumatised and elated by one unit. I’m just amused at the idea of him receiving 106 essays to mark, every one of them parroting his own words back at him.

Well, classmates, in my dissertation research, I have found another author who references himself even more than Johnson does. Meet Leonard Brookes, economist (I think), former head of Forecasting and Energy Policy at the the United Kingdom Atomic Energy Authority and various other energy-related institutes and research councils. I came across him as an author of a journal paper, in which he cited eleven of his own works and various papers by other authors that cite his work.

Most interesting is the fact that he authored the Open University‘s energy unit. I have found a 1998 paper by a research fellow from Open University. The fellow must have been entirely convinced by Brookes; it is striking how closely his conclusions mirror Brookes’s.

I can’t tease him too much; I’ve done the same myself.

However, I hope to avoid it in future. Academic worship is neither attractive nor convincing. Constant self-reference is also… well, something you can only get away with when you’re a venerable academic-type.

To boldly go: An evening with Stephen Hawking

“It’s like he’s a rock star,” Alex remarked, as we joined the long queue snaking up the staircase from the entry to the Arthur Goodhart Lecture Theatre in the Law Faculty.

It was Wednesday night on January 24, 2007 and hundreds of people had snapped up seats to hear Professor Stephen Hawking speak on “To boldly go. My life in physics.” Hawking, Lucasian Professor of Mathematics, was giving the first Gates Distinguished Lecture of 2007.

As I found my place in the packed theatre, I thought “holy prophet” was probably a more appropriate descriptor than “rock star.” There were no screaming fans; instead the lecture theatre of people expressed their awe in absolute silence. When Hawking entered, the only sound was the whirr of his motorised wheelchair.

Over the next hour or so, Hawking described his life in that famous synthesised voice, complete with American accent, despite Hawking being entirely British. Hawking did his undergraduate physics degree at The Other Place – “ ‘A very easy course,’ he observed. ‘When they asked what I would do after I graduated, I said, ‘If you give me a First, I will go to Cambridge. If you give me a Second, I will stay at Oxford.’ ”

Hawking was awarded a First, and Oxford’s loss was Cambridge’s gain.

A Twist of Fate

Hawking is humble about the path he has taken to scientific and popular fame. He explained that it could have been very different had he been granted his first choice of PhD supervisor, Fred Hoyle. Hoyle worked in the then-glamorous field of elementary particle physics. “None of my work from that period would have survived,” Hawking said. Instead, Hawking was diverted into the underdeveloped fields of cosmology and gravitation. This twist of fate meant that Hawking found himself in the centre of the most fundamental of debates on the nature of the universe. Did the universe have a beginning? Does it have a fixed mass or is it steady state, with new mass being created to keep density constant? “It is just as well I wasn’t a student of Hoyle, because then I would have had to defend the Steady State Theory,” Hawking mused. That theory was waiting to be discredited by astronomical observations by 1965.

A turning point came when Hawking began to collaborate with Roger Penrose. Penrose’s work allowed Hawking to realise that if stars could form singularities (points of infinite density and zero volume), then there would be singularities at the beginning of space-time.

“It was a glorious feeling, having a whole field to ourselves. It was unlike particle physics where people are falling over themselves to latch onto the latest theory. They still are.”

Betting on Black Holes

The world that Hawking describes is familiar to all of us who are navigating our way through academic research. He told us of egos and competition, chance discoveries, serendipitous meetings, pointless seminars, absent-minded supervisors, and eureka moments (“I can’t compare it to sex but it lasts longer”).

The only difference between Hawking’s world and ours is that he was making (and losing) bets on the nature of black holes, developing theory far ahead of experimental evidence (and being vindicated when technology finally caught up), and bouncing off other unique minds like Penrose and Feynman. He did all this while living with motor neuron disease. Being unable to move or speak without human and computer help has not stopped Hawking from pioneering new scientific theories, writing best sellers like A Brief History of Time, and starring in three episodes of The Simpsons.

“Professor Hawking,” came the final question of the night. “If you could ask God one question, what would it be?”

Hawking took his moments in time to compose an answer. His helper explained that the professor selects his words by tensing the muscles in his right cheek. The presentation had, of course, been largely pre-composed. Answering our questions that night would take longer.

We, who indulge in txt msg and msn chat language without thinking, were willing to wait. Hawking offered a perfectly composed response:

“Why did you make M-theory so difficult?”

Published in the spring 2007 Gates Cambridge Scholarship newsletter

24 exposures over 24 hours

Some months ago, I had filled in a survey about how I use technology. The researchers then contacted to see if I’d be interested in participating in a ‘learning landscapes’ study.

They gave me a voice recorder, a disposable camera and a notebook. Every 60 to 90 minutes, I got a text message and had to take photos of my surroundings, and record myself describing what I was doing, how I was feeling, and what technologies I was using. If I couldn’t do that, I could jot notes into the notebook. It was a fun day. I ended up going into London to meet people and go to a seminar.

It felt strange taking photos with a film camera, let alone a disposable camera. I couldn’t see if the photo had turned out all right. I couldn’t take as many photos as I am used to. I have used film cameras before but had never felt the constraints of having only 24 exposures per film. That’s because in my film era, I only took photos of the same thing once. In the digital age, I take at least three photos of the same scene using different settings, different perspectives and angles.

Using a disposable camera is no excuse for poor composition. I tried hard to take the best photos I could without being able to adjust aperture, shutter length or film sensitivity. Today, we had a slideshow meeting, where everyone presented their photos and described their day. My photos turned out surprisingly well. The darkest ones must have been thrown out by the developer but otherwise the quality was really quite good.

I think I’ll do this again for fun — buy a disposable camera and practice being hamstrung by low tech and delayed gratification.

The dancesport haka

I went to the Varsity Dancesport competition between Cambridge and Oxford. The scoring system is very interesting. The competition is split into two levels. The A team is generally better than the B team, with a few exceptions of experienced couples who are not eligible for A team because they’re not students of Cambridge or Oxford.

Everyone dances four dances: Waltz and quickstep for the modern ballroom section; and cha cha and jive for the latin section. Everyone ends up dancing the waltz three times, the quickstep three times, and so on. It’s set up like a round robin so that different combinations of Cambridge and Oxford couples dance against each other. I believe that by the time all the waltzes are done, every Cambridge couple has waltzed against every Oxford couple, and the audience has sat through about eight or nine rounds of waltz (it could have been more or less — I couldn’t keep track). The algorithm for selecting couples for rounds was a mystery to me. I had no idea what was going on for most of it. Then, of course, it’s repeated for the other three dances.

The couples are ranked in each round and awarded points. Cambridge couples’ points are aggregated and compared to the sum of Oxford couples’ points. The two latin dances are added together, as are the two ballroom. So a score is reported for Cambridge ballroom versus Oxford ballroom, then Cambridge latin versus Oxford latin. The ballroom and latin scores are summed and the winning team has the highest points.

This year, Cambridge won the B Team match for the first time. It also won the A Team match by a long way. It seems that all year, Cambridge has been trumping Oxford. These are the top two university dancesport teams in the UK and they take turns being on top. It would have been quite an experience to dance with the team. I’m sorry I’ve missed my opportunity.

Here are a few photos I took. No spectacular ones but I was there to enjoy watching the dancing rather than take photos, so anything decent was a bonus.

A quiet moment on the dancefloor.

I tried to pan with the moving couples (that is, follow the couples with my camera while the aperture was open) and actually came up with some clearer ones than this. But I like the colour and the composition here.

This is the Cambridge A Team’s ‘walk on’ for the latin section, which was a pretty cool routine. Think of it as equivalent to the All Blacks’s Haka, which is meant to frighten the bejeezers out of the opposition.

For reference, here is the All Blacks’s haka… Yep. That’s exactly what the ‘walk on’ was like.

For your information, Tonga (in the red) lost that match 90 to 7. Maybe the Oxford team need to have a chat to our mates in New Zealand…

And now, back to our normal programming — ‘A Team’ Latin.

Hey, I stick my tongue out at my dance partners as well!

And here she is, with a more conventional ‘dancesport’ face.

I have so much to say and I’ll burst if I don’t say it

I’ve got about ten blog posts in my head and I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t put them down. I wish I could space them out so that you can read them at your leisure but I fear I’m going to lose a few of you with this current deluge of entries. Ah well. I guess this blog is as much for me as for you.

Yesterday, a friend who I call Dr Jason (to distinguish him from my brother Jason) came over and we went out to take photos of Cambridge. Cambridge is showing off at the moment. It’s saying, ‘Look at me! I’m so pretty, all these lovely people playing frisbee and having picnics, they like me and so should you.’

Mill Road Cemetery
I like taking photos at graveyards. The first four photos are from Mill Road Cemetery, a large, beautiful and artfully wild place. When my parents were here, they walked around town by themselves while I did my homework. They’re the ones who told me about this place.

I found I liked the angels the best of all the gravestones.

Is it disrespectful to be playing frisbee in a graveyard? This is a question obviously not troubling the dog.

There were surprisingly many people sunbathing in the graveyard. Dr Jason said, ‘What are they doing, lying there?’

I said, ‘Maybe they’re practicing.’

Egyptian Pharaohs were buried with camels so that they had transport in the next world. Vikings were buried with ships. Here in Cambridge, bicycles are the transport mode of choice.

Cows at Midsummer Common
After the mad cow disease breakout, cows were banned from grazing at Midsummer Common, a big green space just east of the town centre. The bans were just lifted and cows were celebrating, buffet-style.

Hey, stop making cow-eyes at my girl!

Watching all the cows go for the drinking trough, it suddenly dawned on me that they were herd animals. Where one goes, the others follow. Like sheep, really.

Mmm… oooooo.

Walking along the River Cam

No story behind this photo except that the webbing and the colour scheme made me think of Spider-Man, the movies. The third one is being released soon and ‘they’ say that it’s the best of the series. That’s a pretty tall order. The other two were good.

Like at Oxford, people live in canal boats. Who needs a backyard when you have a roof? Notice the pub in the background — ‘The Boathouse‘. How’s that for clever photographic composition? Applause, please, applause!

Modern art at Jesus College
Dr Jason, formerly of Jesus College, took me on a tour of his old stomping ground.

Jesus College’s gardens are full of modern art. I don’t know how modern this horse sculpture is, really. It does look nice with the wisteria in the background.

The final four photos are of the same twisty glass sculpture, post-processed in different ways. We think that despite being solid, the sculpture probably has something to do with DNA.



Social butterfly

I arrived back from Cornwall at 8 PM. Gina offered me a lift home and as soon as I got there, I changed into some nicer clothes and biked to the University Centre to go social dancing. It was my last chance for about three weeks. Never mind that I was exhausted!

The next day, I met up with Damjan in London. We saw the afternoon matinée of We Will Rock You. It was really good. I had no expectations going in and enjoyed it hugely. The female lead character (‘Scaramouche’) did the sarcastic funny thing really well. The male lead character (‘Galileo Figaro’) was suitably clueless.

You know, I didn’t realise how many Queen songs I knew.

I was riding home from the Cambridge train station, looking forward to finally getting a proper night’s sleep after a week of frantic socialising. As I was biking north, at the corner of my eye, I spotted Yap riding south along the footpath.

‘Hi Yap!’ I called

‘Joan! Do you know…’ Yap’s voice faded out as he zoomed by.

I squeezed the brake and stopped, pulling my bike onto the footpath. Yap and I met each other a few metres later.

‘Are you going to Arun’s thing?’ Yap asked.

‘What thing? I’ve just come back from London.’

‘Oh! It’s Arun’s birthday. I bought a cake,’ Yap said, gesturing to the bag in his bike basket. ‘They’ve been at a pub near here since about nine. Do you want to come?’

I didn’t think too long about it. ‘Okay.’

In my opinion, cake is a good enough reason for delaying sleep for a bit longer.

BBQ season

I have been missing BBQs. Back in Australia, it’s summer and we would have had two or three BBQs by now.

Cambridge weather is fickle. After a week of sunshine, the temperature plunged. We even got sleet.

Today, though, spring fought back. Brendan celebrated his birthday with the first real outdoor BBQ (we had an indoor one at Ian’s place on Australia Day in January). Mmm, roasting meat…

The party begins. This is Brendan’s backyard.

It was a generous BBQ, with sausages, hamburgers, chicken, veggie burgers…

We hovered between indoors and outdoors, depending on the temperature.

People had fun.

Self-selection

The Cambridge Careers Service sent an email, asking for volunteers to form a focus group. They wanted feedback on how they should refurbish the careers centre.

In return for an hour of my time, they gave me a £10 Sainsbury’s voucher. Score! I would have given my opinion for free, especially because they fed me double chocolate chip cookies.

Interestingly, our focus group of ten was eager to give the careers people thoughts. There was no pause in the whole hour. I have worked in groups a lot and invariably there are quiet people, and loud people, and people in between. This time, though, everyone was uniformly vocal and confident. It felt like a slightly weird situation. There was no one to protect.

I guess that’s what happens when people self-select for such groups. You get the opinionated people, who could do with more money for groceries.

An encounter with graciousness

I had four accounting and finance classes with the head of the MBA program here at Cambridge. I found it truly interesting. Accounting is such a limited yet powerful tool. After the classes had finished, I sent an email to the lecturer, pouring forth all the questions I had wanted to ask in class.

Why does a company exist to increase value for shareholders? What is the function of a high share price? (To ‘do better’ than the cost of capital, to prevent takeovers…) Does it matter to a company’s day-to-day operation if the share price falls? (I suppose the share price should reflect operation rather than the other way around.) What would happen if a company’s first allegience was to its employees? When wages are an operating cost, is there shareholder pressure to reduce them? Is there some way to modify the accounting system to reflect social costs? (But these are difficult to price and are not levelled against the company.) Perhaps it would be more workable/sustainable for the government to internalise such costs so that they show up in the balance sheet as part of a company’s normal operations. To what extent is a company’s behaviour shaped by its balance sheet and accounting practices?

I felt like I just had to get the questions out but at the end of the email, I backed away and said the equivalent of, ‘You don’t need to answer these questions. This is just me thinking.’

Against all reasonable expectations, the lecturer replied. ‘Joan. These are all very good questions. I would be happy to discuss at some point if you would like.’

Do you know how excited I was? I was very excited — in an absolute flap, really. Why? I would have access to someone who knew the world’s financial systems, someone who I believed didn’t have a left or right wing agenda, someone who would listen to me and answer my questions. I’ve been looking for an opportunity like this since reading The Divine Right of Capital.

I met the lecturer yesterday and we chatted for half an hour or so. He answered all the questions I had in my email, and more. I’m still processing some of what we talked about.

He must be a very busy person. He didn’t have to speak to me: I’m not in his course, the discussion was essentially recreational, I gave him an easy way out in my email. Yet, he did and in no way made me feel like he was doing me a favour. I’ve met people less important than him and far less generous with their time.

Such graciousness is something to aim for.

The end of learning

Don, Tommy and I were preparing for our final presentation for the Systems Dynamics class.

“You know, this will be my last class,” Don remarked. “…ever.”

I have another module to do next term, but for most people in my course, this Lent term was the last term with taught classes.

“Ever?” I laughed. “You mean you’re done with the MPhil? Done with postgrad? Done with school?

“That’s right,” Don declared. “I’ve decided. Learning Stops Here.”