Student SPHere 2008-09

Sometimes technology can be a major boon to the classroom. For example, I always appreciate the ability to see high-quality plots of data in class. But that's pretty much where my love for projection technology stops. I strongly prefer a traditional lecture, just the professor and a piece of chalk, knowledge streaming directly from her brain to mine.

Clearly, my preferences run contrary to those of most students and the big-wigs in charge of classroom design. In the most modern of classroom redesigns, my favorite kind of learning isn't even possible, with the complete elimination of chalk/white boards! I'll get over my Luddite sadness eventually, but yesterday, my old-fashioned sensibilities were vindicated as a technological farce played out in Survival Analysis.

Survival is one of several courses being telecast to students in Rochester at Mayo. Usually, we have only 1 or 2 students at Mayo participating. It's a new program, so I don't take that as a bad sign. About 15 minutes into class, Dr. Pan's cordless mic ran low on batteries. We could hear him fine, but soon his lecture was interrupted by the folks at Rochester. Their tiny voices emanated from the ether, "Dr. Pan! Dr. Pan, we can't hear you!" reminding me of nothing more than little Whos down in Whoville.

The discussion of coverage probabilities for frequentist confidence intervals came to a screeching halt.

The search for a battery began at the podium and progressed to the house phone on the front wall. Someone at the other end of the line promised to send a tech person to our classroom.

We twiddled our thumbs.

Dr. Pan got impatient and wanted to answer a question from a student, but soon enough, the Whos down in Whoville, seeing him speaking on camera, were agitated. Someone in Rochester suggested that if Dr. Pan could write down his telephone number on the opaque projector (the image of which was still being broadcast), they could call in and be put on speakerphone to get the audio.

Dr. Pan looked around for the number. Of course, the minimalist house phone had no speakerphone, but Dr. Pan didn't quite get the suggestion's implication and dutifully wrote down the number.

We twiddled our thumbs.

Dr. Pan sent a student up to the Biostat office in search of AA batteries.

We twiddled our thumbs.

But, lo! The house phone rang-- it was Rochester! Dr. Pan re-started his lecture, handset cradled against his shoulder, writing on the opaque projector while speaking to the assembled audience and the handset.

We cracked up.

Finally, the student returned with batteries. Using a combination of written notes, gestures at the camera, and speaking into the handset, Dr. Pan told the Whos that they were about to get their audio feed back.

The handset of the phone languished on a chair, off the hook for the moment (ha! did you catch that pun?!), as the wireless mic was back in action and we could go on.

Five minutes later, the tech showed up.

"Thanks, but we're good already."

I'm glad to we're spreading the Biostats joy to Mayo, really I am. But if I add up all the class time lost to this kind of shenanigans over the four telecast classes I've taken...well, let's just say I hope the Whos down in Whoville are really loving their Biostat classes.