Road Map:
LR A1: Lessons for an (I/E)NTP
When I took the Myers Briggs test in ninth grade, I was an INTP. However, my “I” score was only one or two-percent. Now, I am an ENTP with a very slight, one-percent “E” score. Therefore, if I must confine my personality to a four-part classification, I am most accurately an (I/E)NTP.
Fortunately, this hybridized classification makes a lot of sense to me. I do not feel I am introverted or extroverted. When comparing the Extroverts vs. Introverts classifications on page 139, I drew circles in the middle of the two columns indicating that I could not define myself as one or the other. I did agree that I display the apparently introverted quality of “prefer[ing] one-on-one, small groups” (139). However, I don’t feel that this preference is necessarily due to me being introverted as much as my “little patience with those [I] consider wrongheaeded or unintelligent” which, according to Marina Margaret Heiss, is an extroverted quality. I would enjoy group activities with groups like my current World Lit class because I respect their ideas, opinions, and work.
Though I may be a (I/E) learner, I found the “Introversion and Writing” section to define me quite accurately as a writer. The description of the introverted writing process cited the use of outlines and the tendency to “plan before writing and [to] want most of their ideas clarified before writing” (145). Unfortunately, the same section did not provide any useful methods of overcoming introverted writing blocks. Interestingly, I found that the “Extraversion and Writing” section listed some helpful hints to overcome obstacles. The section explains a method of overcoming a block by “writing about having nothing to write about,” something I think would help me in the future (144). Also, the suggestion that a “block can be overcome by carrying on an outer dialogue” is a method that I already often use when blocked (144).
The degree of my NTP classification is much stronger. The description that “Intutives sometimes become blocked through trying to make even a simple writing task (such as a memo) unique” is a perfect example of a problem I often have (148). The identification of a thinking person as regarding “their beliefs as being universally held and thus [being] abrasive or dogmatic” is so similar to my personality that I laughed while reading it. Finally, the perceiving person’s dependency on deadlines is very much a weakness of mine. Its helpful to be aware of my learning and writing characteristics so that I can use them to my benefit if I need to, and I can avoid the blocks they might cause.
LR A2:
When I was only in the third and fourth grades, I would have surprisingly philosophical discussions with my mom, my dad, and my friends’ parents. In the car, my mom and I would discuss at length the existence and nature of God. Sitting next to the fireplace with my dad, I would consider the possibility that evolution and a creator-God were not mutually exclusive. When my friend’s mom would take the neighborhood kids to the park, I would forego swinging and sliding to talk with her about the infinite nature of the Universe and the probability that extraterrestrial life exists. These memories of learning have remained with me for so long because they were self-directed and not spoon-fed. Indeed, these “discovery learning” events allowed me to construct my own knowledge base which I have valued much more than the thousands of lesson-plans I have been subjected to.
While in Middle School, I enjoyed reading books that provided the same freedom of thoughts and ideas as my conversations with adults. Books about the Holocaust like Night and The Hiding Place and those concerning the nature of the intellect like Flowers for Algernon interested me most. None of those novels were assigned reading, and I never formally analyzed them. I enjoyed thinking formlessly about the ideas and emotions captured by their pages. However, I despised writing. It was too restrictive for my free-flowing thoughts and ideas, which were so easily vocalized, but nearly impossible for me to write down. I felt there was a barrier to my writing that I couldn’t surmount. My problem was that I hadn’t mastered the written language.
Then, as a sophomore in high school, I took my first AC English course. My teacher Mr. Volding taught the intricacies of comma rules, verb usage, and dangling modifiers. He taught me style, and my writing has never been the same. Suddenly, the written language became an even more precise and effective method of communicating than speech. I began obsessing over the structure of essays, and the clarity of every sentence. My quest was to write the perfect essay.
However, without my noticing, my reading style had changed with this new approach to writing. Before, I would use reading as a playground for my mind. I approached books playfully and formed ideas for no particular reason other than my own satisfaction. My new writing style was scientific in nature, and I would approach books objectively and coldly like I would approach a biology experiment. Mr. Volding often emphasized the text as our set of data to work with. I never formed ideas that I felt passionate about. Instead, I chose defendable topics and used the text to support my topics.
Although my high school reading and writing styles prevented the self-directed learning I had once enjoyed, I experienced discovery learning in other ways. My endless experimentation with essay structures and sentences led me to create a unique style and writing method. Also, while I was far from the grand idea of Unity we have discussed in E 603, I became keenly aware of the necessity to link ideas and facts together to form cohesive and powerful arguments.
Now, in college, I have the opportunity to progress to a new stage of writing. I feel confident with the mechanics of writing, which will allow me to spend time on writing as a discovery learning process. I hope to bring my own experiences and emotions into my writing, while still focusing on the structure and style of my essays.
LR Goals:
1. To know myself
For quite a long time now, I have wanted to engage in some serious “soul searching.” However, it seems like life is too busy for such a culturally underappreciated activity. I have spent most of high school furiously thinking “JUST A FEW MORE WEEKS, YOU CAN GET THROUGH IT. THEN, YOU WILL HAVE SOME TIME…”—no. “It” is never going to be over, and I wouldn’t want it to be really. What I’ve recently discovered is that I just have to make “it” my day-to-day existence, in all its regular glory and sparks of brilliance, as wonderful as possible. This means I have to integrate my own self-discovery with my busy life. Fortunately, this class gives me the opportunity to do so, but it is my goal to learn how to transform daily life into an experience filled with learning.
2. To learn time management
I am admittedly not a skilled time-manager. I tend to procrastinate more than necessary, which is most likely due to my own fear of failure. For me to master time management, I must first manage my own emotions that cause me to delay beginning assignments and depend on an adrenaline rush to complete them. Ultimately, time management will help me accomplish my first goal because it will allow me to learn about myself through my schoolwork.
3. To fail 100 times
The class discussion about failure was surprising to me. I am afraid of failure to some degree, but I have learned to embrace it. Nobody can live a life without failure. The longer one delays failure or the admittance of failure, the harder it is to cope with. Furthermore, failure is a learning experience in its own right. Through my own personal failures, I have learned about myself and the people around me. My goal is to fail 100 times in this course and to learn from each personal failure. Such a feat would demonstrate that I have experimented, left my comfort zone, and made myself vulnerable. By being open to failure, I am also open to growth.
4. To discover “my” UT
I have enjoyed learning about UT through this course, and I hope to continue doing so. When I look back at my college years, I want to be able to vividly remember my experiences at UT. The only way to lock these experiences in my memory is to strongly associate them to the philosophy of education at UT and the campus itself.
LR Midterm
Stand Outside Yourself and Write what you See (pdf)
LR Final
LEARNING RECORD—DAY ONE
The only thing colder than the concrete floor I lay upon is the endless expanse of biology books that fills my peripheral vision. These unwilling storehouses of knowledge refuse to open their ironclad covers and provide me with the simple satisfaction that lies on their pages. The artificial fluorescent light directly above me, the illegitimate child of the “lux nova” that filled Abot Suger’s first Gothic cathedral, causes me to blink, and a cold, empty feeling consumes my body. Oh, Saint Denis! Where are your warm panes of colored light that carry my soul to Neoplatonic ascent?
I write this as I lay in despair on the floor between two towering bookshelves of the life sciences library stacks. My laptop rests on my thighs and I type without looking at the screen. Before this moment, I had failed to write a single coherent sentence in the span of three hours. I sat at the lonely desk next to the window that had no view and became exasperated with my inability to be productive. I succumbed to my typical excuse for such failure, and told myself that I just didn’t care about writing the learning record.
Either a bout of depression or spark of inspiration led me to the floor between the bookshelves. Here, I am surrounded by knowledge but feel only an indifferent presence. I see myself as a very reasonable person who would take delight in the idea of being surrounded by knowledge in its most concrete form. However, while I lie here, a place in my soul feels empty, and I cannot understand why. I keep looking to the light and hoping that it will transform in\to rays of holy inspiration. But, alas, the fluorescent bulbs, while energy saving and long-lasting, do not emit into the electromagnetic field every color from the spectrum of visible light. The wave frequencies so crucial for my intellectual stimulation do not permeate this hall of books. Here lies an empty man.
I now turn my thoughts to the topic of this learning record: “Stand outside the person standing outside yourself and write what you see.” Okay, I will entertain this idea, but only if I don’t have to get up from the floor. However, I realize that I am already off the floor and standing. It is not me, but my body who remains lying on the ground. I call the body “Dillon” because that is what my coaches usually call me, certainly only referring to my corporeal nature. Dillon, that amalgamation of sensory organs, exists only to gather data from the world and submit to the whims of his consciousness. This consciousness, then, must be Brian, the person standing right outside of Dillon. Brian gather’s Dillon’s experiences and interprets them in his own unique way.
But, who is this third person that stands even further outside of Dillon and transcends the thoughts of Brian? It seems like some observer exists whose level of awareness is high enough to incorporate Brian’s thoughts and Dillon’s actions, but still remains detached and objective. Is this awareness God himself? It seems that one must at least be gifted with certain God-like qualities to be the objective observer. However, the more I ruminate about this concept, the clearer it becomes that I, in fact, am the person standing outside the person standing outside myself. Just like my observations about reality, I can make detached observations about myself. From this outside vantage point, I am able to achieve a clear and unbiased understanding of my actions, thoughts, and feelings. When trying to conceptualize the three levels of awareness that we can experience, the difficulty arises when we fuse two or all of the levels of awareness. If this happens, we can become isolated in our own existence and cease to realize that alternate interpretations of our being exist.
From this outside vantage point, I try to think about the “problem” that has affected my ability to complete tasks such as this learning record. Brian would most likely think that he is simply not interested in anything. He feels that since the second semester of his senior year, he has been apathetic towards school, and there is nothing he can do about it. However, I know this is not true. Last summer, when Brian had an internship at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center, he was intensely interested in almost everything in the research lab he spent his days in. He discussed genetics with researchers and learned how to perform complicated tasks such as polymerase chain reactions. These new and exciting experiences awoke Brian temporarily out of his high school slumber. He thought that he must have found some sort of inspiration after leaving high school. However, in college he has once again fallen into the vicious cycle of procrastination. He rarely attempts to avoid such academically disastrous evils and instead blames them on a lack of motivation caused by the failure of the university to adequately stimulate his intellect. However, Brian’s “apathy” is simply an excuse for laziness and procrastination.
Earlier this year, Brian created a list of goals, most of which dealt with the problems of procrastination and a lack of motivation. The list of goals was:
• To discover a/my/the higher purpose
• To know myself
• To integrate life and learning
• To manage my life
• To develop lasting and meaningful relationships
The first three goals focused on an organic kind of personal growth. They emphasized a process of coming to understand myself. These goals are very similar to the course goals of E603 and recall “The Mystery,” a dominant theme of the course.
This emphasis on a journey toward understanding oneself and that which is greater than oneself seems almost counter productive to me. These ideas discount my personal awareness (the very awareness that allows me to write this paper) and force me to undermine my own knowledge of myself. I think that I know myself very well. When I fail to accomplish something, I do not feel the failure is caused by a lack of self-awareness. I am able to objectively evaluate my actions and understand all aspects of myself that lead to my actions. I also recognize a higher purpose for my life and understand the ways this should affect how I live. My ability to know is undermined by my goals, which endlessly strive for knowledge. If I can’t provide absolute knowledge, I would like to at least provide a best guess and acknowledge that human reason is still worth something. Otherwise, I embark on an endless quest in search of the Mystery, which, in this case, is merely an excuse to avoid sound conclusions.
To finally overcome my apathy and propensity to procrastinate, I think I have to stop trying to find out who I am, and start forming myself into who I want to be. I feel that if I have stated “I want to learn from my failures,” then I should already have the self-awareness to make that goal a reality. This requires enough emotional maturity to stop making excuses for my failures. There is no legitimate reason that I do not feel interested in anything. Of all the things Dr. Bump has said in class, the one statement I remember most clearly is, “A Plan II student should never be bored.” And the truth is, I never really am bored. I just do not align my interests with my classes and required tasks. To be able to do well in my classes I must be able to discover what makes the class meaningful to me. I should be interested in discovering the ideas and concepts that seem to jump out at me.
I am still lying on the floor, but not in desperation. Taking a look at the books around me, I notice that they all relate to my summer internship. Books titled, Translational Control of Gene Expression and Genomic Imprinting make me feel like I had donned my lab coat once again. Last summer, I was genuinely fascinated in these subjects and the excitement I felt affected other aspects of my life. When I am interested in what I am doing, my entire life seems to fit together. This is another reason I must work to find what interests me in my classes.
LEARNING RECORD—DAY TWO
I opt not to write anything except this:
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LEARNING RECORD—DAY THREE
The day starts like any other day—in absolute confusion. I wake up and have no notion of where I am or what time it is, so I shout something rude to express my disorientation. My roommate stirs, and I slowly remember my name and realize where I am:
Brian Dillon
Room 110
Andrews Dormitory
University of Texas
Austin
United States of America
North America
The World
The Universe
I ask myself, “What was after the universe?” and respond, “Nothing” (Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, 16). Having once again lost my point of reference in the all-inclusive expanse of matter, I fall back asleep.
Subconsciously, I know that exactly nine minutes will pass before my alarm clock once again wakes me from my peaceful slumber. During these precious minutes, I employ my mastery of the fourth dimension and capture enough time to review my new goals.
My first goal is to form myself into who I want to be. I want to read Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography and learn how to mold myself into a better person. The person I want to become is able to shun distractions and prioritize his work. In order to do this, I must resist creating excuses for not doing my work. Also, a large part of accomplishing this goal will be discovering what interests me within the contexts of each course I am enrolled in.
My second goal is to gather more usable knowledge. I feel that throughout my education, I have merely learned facts to pass tests. Many of my friends are masters of knowledge and are able to provide the necessary facts in the proper way in order to present the most convincing arguments and most interesting ideas. The first area I will begin studying is Catholicism. This topic is extremely interesting to me and I enjoy discussing it with other people. However, I think that the burden of proof often lies on me when this topic is discussed. Next semester, I will be taking chemistry and genetics, and I want to spend enough time and energy to learn these subjects extremely well. I want to be a doctor and possibly a researcher, so I will need to know these subjects well as background knowledge.
After the nine minutes finally pass, I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock. It is 4:55 AM, time for another crew practice. And here begins the epic battle between body and mind. The idea of waking up at this time seems absolutely ridiculous to me. However, I also know that I enjoy crew and desire to attend practice. My eyes close briefly before I forcefully swing my legs over the edge of my bed in order to gather enough momentum to rise from my mattress. As I sit at the edge of my bed, I still feel the desire to lie back down. Finally, my mind avails and I am standing next to my bed, triumphant. I realize that sometimes, certain tasks aren’t easy or enjoyable, but the end product is rewarding. If I can push myself mentally to get out of bed at 4:55 in the morning, I can certainly push myself to stop procrastinating and work diligently at my schoolwork.
Finally, I remember another part of E603 that I learned an important lesson from. When we colored in coloring books and played with play dough during class, I remember being intensely interested in what I was doing. In order to push myself to work on assignments, I need to find that child-like fascination with my tasks.