Okay. Screw it. Two blog posts in the same day. I actually have tons of ridiculous little anecdotes (side note: I absolutely butchered the spelling of the word ‘anecdote’ when I tried to spell it. I’m now wondering if I’ve ever used that word before. That just blew my mind.) that I’ve experienced in the past two weeks and I need to start writing them up.
During my final year of graduate school, I worked as a teaching assistant for an introductory Biostatistics class. Not thrilled with the idea of having to explain statistical concepts in a discussion section each week, my solution was to find a teaching assistantship which carried responsibilities of holding office hours and providing review sessions but zero discussion section responsibilities. This absolutely played out fantastically. I actually enjoyed it, befriended some of the students, and I used to jokingly remind these friends that I was the ‘greatest TA of all-time’ and that I fully expected them to write glowing letters of recommendation for the ‘TA of the Year’ award.
Unfortunately, I am not able to skirt the responsibility of explaining statistical concepts in a discussion section while I am in the nation of Zambia. Almost every Wednesday, a co-worker or I put together a short lecture on an epidemiological concept in an effort to increase the understanding of infectious disease research analysis amongst the rest of our group. Two weeks ago was supposed to be my first week giving a lecture. The topic of the lecture is an epidemiology (aka the diet coke of Biostatistics) topic, Measures of Disease Frequency. I take the responsibility seriously and spend a decent amount of time preparing slides to adequately explain the concepts of prevalence and incidence, making sure people will learn something and maintain their attention.
On Wednesday afternoon, I head over to the conference room where I’ll be giving the lecture and start making sure everything will work properly. After a little wait, 3:30 rolls around and I anxiously await the arrival of the audience. A few minutes pass and no one arrives, but this isn’t surprising because transportation can sometimes be a hassle. 3:40 rolls around and Winnie, a Zambian student, arrives and takes a seat. Surely, more will follow. Uhh. 4:00 p.m. and it’s still just Winnie. At this point, I’ve got a decision to make. Do I wait a little longer and hope someone else arrives? Do I cancel the talk and apologize to Winnie for having to wait so long? Or do I give the lecture to a single person?
I always thought this was one of those hypothetical situations that you’d debate what course of action you would take, but it would never present itself. I had always joked that I would still give a lecture even if no one else came, so I felt morally committed to giving the lecture to one person. I quickly went through the slides. In retrospect, I wish I would have enjoyed the situation more thoroughly. I wish I had spent time after the slides asking questions to the audience as if there were multiple people in the audience. I would look to the back of the room and swivel my head checking to see if anyone was raising their hand. After having her answer a few questions, I would chastise her for not allowing others an opportunity to answer the questions and let her know that no one likes a teacher’s pet, etc. Instead, I just left the building and told everyone how awesome it was that no one came to my lecture.
The following week, everyone felt guilty that no one attended the original lecture, so pretty much everyone (even people who never attend these) made a point to attend the rescheduled lecture. Sweet, pity attendance! This, in tandem with only one person attending the original lecture, is nothing short of a travesty when you are ‘the greatest TA of all time.’
During my final year of graduate school, I worked as a teaching assistant for an introductory Biostatistics class. Not thrilled with the idea of having to explain statistical concepts in a discussion section each week, my solution was to find a teaching assistantship which carried responsibilities of holding office hours and providing review sessions but zero discussion section responsibilities. This absolutely played out fantastically. I actually enjoyed it, befriended some of the students, and I used to jokingly remind these friends that I was the ‘greatest TA of all-time’ and that I fully expected them to write glowing letters of recommendation for the ‘TA of the Year’ award.
Unfortunately, I am not able to skirt the responsibility of explaining statistical concepts in a discussion section while I am in the nation of Zambia. Almost every Wednesday, a co-worker or I put together a short lecture on an epidemiological concept in an effort to increase the understanding of infectious disease research analysis amongst the rest of our group. Two weeks ago was supposed to be my first week giving a lecture. The topic of the lecture is an epidemiology (aka the diet coke of Biostatistics) topic, Measures of Disease Frequency. I take the responsibility seriously and spend a decent amount of time preparing slides to adequately explain the concepts of prevalence and incidence, making sure people will learn something and maintain their attention.
On Wednesday afternoon, I head over to the conference room where I’ll be giving the lecture and start making sure everything will work properly. After a little wait, 3:30 rolls around and I anxiously await the arrival of the audience. A few minutes pass and no one arrives, but this isn’t surprising because transportation can sometimes be a hassle. 3:40 rolls around and Winnie, a Zambian student, arrives and takes a seat. Surely, more will follow. Uhh. 4:00 p.m. and it’s still just Winnie. At this point, I’ve got a decision to make. Do I wait a little longer and hope someone else arrives? Do I cancel the talk and apologize to Winnie for having to wait so long? Or do I give the lecture to a single person?
I always thought this was one of those hypothetical situations that you’d debate what course of action you would take, but it would never present itself. I had always joked that I would still give a lecture even if no one else came, so I felt morally committed to giving the lecture to one person. I quickly went through the slides. In retrospect, I wish I would have enjoyed the situation more thoroughly. I wish I had spent time after the slides asking questions to the audience as if there were multiple people in the audience. I would look to the back of the room and swivel my head checking to see if anyone was raising their hand. After having her answer a few questions, I would chastise her for not allowing others an opportunity to answer the questions and let her know that no one likes a teacher’s pet, etc. Instead, I just left the building and told everyone how awesome it was that no one came to my lecture.
The following week, everyone felt guilty that no one attended the original lecture, so pretty much everyone (even people who never attend these) made a point to attend the rescheduled lecture. Sweet, pity attendance! This, in tandem with only one person attending the original lecture, is nothing short of a travesty when you are ‘the greatest TA of all time.’
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