Dear Students,

Through a series of fortuitous events, I have the great pleasure of teaching another ExCo. As my class list finally settles down, students who intend to drop my class do, and we approach our first real discussion this week, I wanted to take a moment to write a letter—equal parts love letter and list of dos and don’ts—to you, my students.

Let’s start with something I’m sure your professors have told you a thousand times before: what you—and, interestingly, what I—get out of this class is entirely dependent on what you put in. I’ve already put in hours of work preparing this class but I guarantee you that this will be the most boring course you’ve ever taken if you fail to read, fail to discuss, and fail to share what you know. There are some brilliant students at Oberlin from whom I’ve learned a great deal while working here. I want to hear your ideas too, so speak up.

This class is an ExCo. I don’t suffer any delusions that a class on Doctor Who taught in a division whose name labels it “experimental” will be held up as the pinnacle of academic thought, but I do believe that there is so much to learn about human nature by examining the way we write and tell stories. Don’t let an opportunity to learn pass you by, especially when there’s so much freedom for you to direct what we discuss.

That said, I hope for this class to follow in the grand tradition of 17th century salons, as Wikipedia so succinctly says were,”held partly to amuse one another and partly to refine taste and increase their knowledge of the participants through conversation.” I’m fine with it if you bring blankets and pillows to screenings while we discuss the feminist nature (or lack thereof) of the Doctor’s companions. It’s cool if you want to bring snacks to share while we figure out the physics of the operation of the TARDIS. Both discussing the virtues of David Tennant’s face while he’s wearing his “brainy specs” and examining the Tenth Doctor as a Christ figure are equally welcome.

If you’re inspired to do so, please approach me if you’d like to do something extraordinary. Want to submit your midterm paper for consideration to be published in an anthology on Doctor Who and religion? Want to show a marathon of Doctor Who episodes to more people on campus and get them talking about the issues involved? Interested in teaching this class next year? Think it’d be really cool to bake 500 cupcakes shaped like Daleks? Let’s do it! It’ll likely be fun, will give you a little something extra to add to that résumé or to mention in an interview, and I promise to write you a killer recommendation letter if you need it.

And finally, if you like what you learn in this class, if you feel challenged, if you feel enlightened, tell me. Or, conversely, if you feel the opposite, tell me that too. I’m on email all day, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and here at this blog. Reach out anonymously if you’d like. I teach because I love to do it, not because I’m getting paid and I respect your feedback.

Allons-y!
Jacquelynn

The new icon you see in the header is a variation of the one that appears on my MOO calling cards.

Front (top) and Back (bottom) of my mini calling cards printed by MOO

I wanted something a bit more sophisticated and in line with my personal style for my blog, so I’m testing out this one. This version, unlike the one on my calling cards, is set in Eric Gill’s Perpetua. I’ve got a series of this icon in several colors and may swap it out from time to time in various social media locations. (Also, to the graphic designers out there, please excuse the kerning on those cards. For some reason I don’t have a digital version of the final product; the one pictured is an early draft.)

What do you think? Does this better reflect me than did the chartreuse and aqua?

I’ve been going to yoga for about a month now, roughly two times a week. I’m not losing massive amounts of weight or anything drastic, but I can feel myself getting stronger. It’s true what they say about yoga poses never changing but your relationship to them evolving. Each time I do a pose I can feel how it’s different from the last time. Sometimes I’m not noticeably better and sometimes I’m worlds better.

One of my very favorite poses lately has been the Baddha Virabhadrasana, called in English the Bound Warrior or Humble Warrior. It’s a great stretch for your hips just like in other warrior poses but also adds a nice chest and shoulder stretch to the mix. For those unfamiliar with the pose, it looks like this:

Humble Warrior demonstrated by Leigh Ferrara

In this pose your feet are pretty much standard Warrior I but your chest is bent forward and, as my yoga instructor says, the crown of your head would be the first bit to hit the ground were you to fall forward. It’s probably unsurprising to people who know me that I’m drawn to lower-key, more submissive poses like this one. I find that in Humble Warrior it is much easier to keep my focus on my own practice instead of comparing myself to others in the class, something I have a terrible tendency to do. Warrior I and II just seem to ask for comparisons whereas this one is just me and the floor.

It’s no secret that I think highly of traditional manners and neither is it one that most Americans probably think they’re outdated. We could quibble over which ones continue to be relevant but I absolutely will not budge on the subject of sending handwritten thank-you notes. My hero Emily Post writes, in her 1922 landmark book Etiquette, on the subject of letters:

THE ART of general letter-writing in the present day is shrinking until the letter threatens to become a telegram, a telephone message, a post-card.

It may be, too, that in other days the average writing was no better than the average of to-day. … The difference though, between letter-writers of the past and of the present, is that in other days they all tried to write, and to express themselves the very best they knew how—to-day people don’t care a bit whether they write well or ill. Mental effort is one thing that the younger generation of the “smart world” seems to consider it unreasonable to ask—and just as it is the fashion to let their spines droop until they suggest nothing so much as Tenniel’s drawing in Alice in Wonderland of the caterpillar sitting on the toad-stool—so do they let their mental faculties relax, slump and atrophy.

To such as these, to whom effort is an insurmountable task, it might be just as well to say frankly: If you have a mind that is entirely bromidic, if you are lacking in humor, all power of observation, and facility for expression, you had best join the ever-growing class of people who frankly confess, “I can’t write letters to save my life!” and confine your literary efforts to picture post-cards with the engaging captions “X is my room,” or “Beautiful weather, wish you were here.”

While I think that most of her words, particularly the parts about letters shrinking to the size of text messages or DMs, have continued relevance today, I hesitate to suggest that you throw in the towel if you believe you are among those who cannot write letters. To save you the time of reading Emily Post yourself, although I wholeheartedly encourage you to do so because she is one funny lady, I’m going to share with you the basic rules of thank-you letter writing so that you have a template to use for any occasion.

Before you begin writing, be sure to choose a nice sheet of paper or note card, not some crumpled computer paper you have at the back of your desk, and find a blue or black pen. A serious thank-you note is no place for an aqua-colored gel pen.

Start with a greeting.
“Dear” is not stuffy, it’s a proper salutation. If it really ruffles your feathers, you could also write, “Hello.”

Thank the giver for the gift.
This is your chance to acknowledge what was given. “Thank you for the (adjective here such as lovely, pretty, sparkly, green) earrings.” If the gift was monetary, never directly reference the dollar amount, bucks, or Benjamins. Rather, choose a tactful way to refer to the gift such as, “Thank you for your generosity.”

Say what you’ll do with the gift.
People like to know their gift will be put to good use. “I’m going to an office party on Friday and the earrings will perfectly match my dress.” Don’t lie. If you aren’t going to use the item because the earrings are actually hideous, you might expand on your description of them and highlight something you do like about them such as, “I really enjoy silver jewelry.”

Address your relationship to the giver.
“It was so nice to see you at Christmas and I look forward to our Fourth of July barbecue this summer.” Let the person know how nice it was to see them at the event during which you received the gift if the exchange happened in person. If not, it may be appropriate to say that you hope to see the giver soon. Make the person feel appreciated and not just for their money.

Say thank you. Again.
Close your letter with a simple line of thanks. “Thank you again for your gift. It is most appreciated.” This is, after all, the whole point.

Close.
Choose a standard closing such as “Sincerely,” or “Love,” and sign your name.

That’s it. It’s simple, gives you total credibility as a responsible, mature adult, and plus, people are much more likely to give you nice things if you’re grateful to receive them.

I’ve worked in computer support for the past eight years, both in my current job and as a student during college. Time and again, people of varying ages and ability levels ask me how I “got so good at computers.” The thing is, it’s not magic. It’s not years and years of arduous textbook study. When I, and people like me, sit down at a computer, we are doing precisely this:

XKCD's Tech Support Cheat Sheet

Now, before you protest that, “This is just a comic! It’s a joke! It’s an exaggeration!” Stop. I have never read something more true in my whole life.

All you need to do to become an expert at computers is to take risks. Funnily enough, that’s some pretty good advice for being successful at a lot of things. The more you take risks, click buttons, move icons around, and press strange combinations of keys on your keyboard, the more familiar you’ll become with what the results will be and they’ll help you take better, more informed risks the next time. Plus, it’s extremely unlikely that you’ll break something beyond repair. The world of technology changes quickly but once you get the hang of how files and folders work, you’ll be in pretty good shape when the next new computer or software program comes along.

It’s also worth noting that the flowchart above does suggest, after some trial and error, that you ask for help. I definitely don’t mind getting questions about computers as long as it’s clear that the person asking has genuinely tried on his or her own and wants to learn for the next time. Believe it or not, plenty of people ask me how to do something and then call me a week later with the same question.

Although computers can be a little bit intimidating, take heart: the newest products that Apple has put out in the last few years take a lot of the things that may have been confusing about computers in the past and put them behind shiny, easy-to-operate icons. We’re moving into a world where we may be more dependent on our technology but we’ll need to know the nitty-gritty of how those systems work just a little bit less.

So, what about you? What intimidates you most about the world of technology?