Dream geoscience courses

MOOCs mean it's never been easier to learn something new.This is an appeal for opinions. Please share your experiences and points of view in the comments.

Are you planning to take any technical courses this year? Are you satisfied with the range of courses offered by your company, or the technical societies, or the commercial training houses (PetroSkills, Nautilus, and so on)? And how do you choose which ones to take — do you just pick what you fancy, seek recommendations, or simply aim for field classes at low latitudes?

At the end of 2012, several geobloggers wrote about courses they'd like to take. Some of them sounded excellent to me too... which of these would you take a week off work for?

• Programming in geology — Shawn Wright of Vi-Carius
• Working the government/academia/industry system — Shawn Wright
• Art for geologists — proposed by Callan Bentley at Mountain Beltway
• The roots of geological thinking — both Callan Bentley and Shawn Wright
• Offshore geologic site assessment — Dianna Phu at Eat. Sleep. Geology.
• Geoscience 999: a short, sharp shock — Pete Rowley at Lithics
• Ballparking — Pete Rowley
• Field methods theory — Penny Higgins at Paleopix
• Investing in economic deposits — Ann at Ann's Musings
• Geology, history, and legend — Hollis at In the Company of Plants & Rocks
• Earth systems & society — Lockwood Dewitt at Outside the Interzone

Here's my own list, complete with instructors. It includes some of the same themes...

• Programming for geoscientists (learn to program!) — Eric Jones
• Solving hard problems about the earth — hm, that's a tough one... Bill Goodway?
• Communicating rocks online — Brian Romans or Maitri Erwin
• Data-driven graphics in geoscience — the figure editor at Nature Geoscience
• Mathematics clinic for geoscientists — Brian Russell
• Becoming a GIS ninja — er, a GIS ninja
• Working for yourself — needs multiple points of view

What do you think? What's your dream course? Who would teach it?

You own your brain

I met someone last week who said her employer — a large integrated oil & gas company — 'owned her'. She said she'd signed an employment agreement that unequivocally spelt this out. This person was certainly a professional on paper, with a graduate degree and plenty of experience. But the company had, perhaps unwittingly, robbed her of her professional independence and self-determination. What a thing to lose.

Agreements like this erode our profession. Do not sign agreements like this. 

The idea that a corporation can own a person is obviously ludicrous — I'm certain she didn't mean it literally. But I think lots of people feel confined by their employment. For some reason, it's acceptable to gossip and whisper over coffee, but talking in any public way about our work is uncomfortable for some people. This needs to change.

Your employer owns your products. They pay you for concerted effort on things they need, and to have their socks knocked off occasionally. But they don't own your creativity, judgment, insight, and ideas — the things that make you a professional. They own their data, and their tools, and their processes, but they don't own the people or the intellects that created them. And they can't — or shouldn't be able to — stop you from going out into the world and being an active, engaged professional, free to exerise and discuss our science with whomever you like.

If you're asked to sign something saying you can't talk at meetings, write about your work, or contribute to open projects like SEGwiki — stop.

These contracts only exist because people sign them. Just say, 'No. I am a professional. I own my brain.'

Ways to experiment with conferences

Yesterday I wrote about why I think technical conferences underdeliver. Coincidentally, Evan sent me this quote from Seth Godin's blog yesterday:

We've all been offered access to so many tools, so many valuable connections, so many committed people. What an opportunity.

What should we do about it? 

If we are collectively spending 6 careers at the SEG Annual Meeting every autumn, as I asserted yesterday, let's put some of that cognitive surplus to work!

I suggest starting to experiment with our conferences. There are so many tools: unconferences, idea jams, hackdays, wikithons, and other participative activities. Anything to break up sitting in the dark watching 16 lectures a day, slamming coffee and cramming posters in between. Anything to get people not just talking and drinking, but working together. What a way to build collaborations, friendships, and trust. Connecting with humans, not business cards. 

Unconvinced? consider which of these groups of people looks like they're learning, being productive, and having fun:

This year I've been to some random (for me) conferences — Science Online, Wikimania, and Strata. Here are some engaging, fun, and inspiring things happening in meetings of those communities:

• Speaker 'office hours' during the breaks so you can find them and ask questions. 
• Self-selected topical discussion tables at lunch. 
• Actual time for actual discussion after talks (no, really!).
• Cool giveaways: tattoos and stickers, funky notebooks, useful mobile apps, books, scientific toys.
• A chance to sit down and work with others — hackathons, co-writing, idea jams, and so on. 
• Engaged, relevant, grounded social media presence, not more marketing.
• An art gallery, including graphics captured during sessions. 
• No posters! Those things epitomize the churn of one-way communication.

Come to our experiment!

Clearly there's no shortage of things to try. Converting a session here, a workshop there — it's easy to do something in a sandbox, alongside the traditional. And by 'easy', I mean uncertain, risky and uncomfortable. It will require a new kind of openness. I'm not certain of the outcome, but I am certain that it's worth doing. 

On this note, a wonderful thing happened to us recently. We were — and still are — planning an unconference of our own (stay tuned for that). Then, quite unprovoked, Carmen Dumitrescu asked Evan if we'd like to chair a session at the Canada GeoConvention in May. And she invited us to 'do something different'. Perfect timing!

So — mark your calendar! GeoConvention, Calgary, May 2013. Something different.

The photo of the lecture, from the depressing point of view of the speaker, is licensed CC-BY-SA by Flickr user Pierre-Alain Dorange. The one of the unconference is licensed CC-BY-SA-NC by Flickr user aforgrave.

Are conferences failing you too?

I recently asked a big software company executive if big exhibitions are good marketing value. The reply:

It's not a waste of money. It's a colossal waste of money.

So that's a 'no'.

Is there a problem here?

Next week I'll be at the biggest exhibition (and conference) in our sector: the SEG Annual Meeting. Thousands of others will be there, but far more won’t. Clearly it’s not indispensable or unmissable. Indeed, it’s patently missable — I did just fine in my career as a geophysicist without ever going. Last year was my first time.

Is this just the nature of mass market conferences? Is the traditional academic format necessarily unremarkable? Do the technical societies try too hard to be all things to all people, and thereby miss the mark for everyone? 

I don't know the answer to any of these questions, I can only speak for myself. I'm getting tired of conferences. Perhaps I've reached some new loop in the meandering of my career, or perhaps I'm just grumpy. But as I've started to whine, I'm finding more and more allies in my conviction that conferences aren't awesome.

What are conferences for?

• They make lots of money for the technical societies that organize them.
• A good way to do this is to provide marketing and sales opportunities for the exhibiting vendors.
• A good way to do this is to attract lots of scientists there, baiting with talks by all the awesomest ones.
• A good way to do this, apparently, is to hold it in Las Vegas.

But I don't think the conference format is great at any of these things, except possibly the first one. The vendors get prospects (that's what sales folk call people) that are only interested in toys and beer — they might be users, but they aren't really customers. The talks are samey and mostly not memorable (and you can only see 5% of them). Even the socializing is limited by the fact that the conference is gigantic and run on a tight schedule. And don't get me started on Las Vegas. 

If we're going to take the trouble of flying 8000 people to Las Vegas, we had better have something remarkable to show for it. Do we? What do we get from this giant conference? By my conservative back-of-the-envelope calculation, we will burn through about 210 person-years of productivity in Las Vegas next week. That's about 6 careers' worth. Six! Are we as a community satisfied that we will produce 6 careers' worth of insight, creativity, and benefit?

You can probably tell that I am not convinced. Tomorrow, I will put away the wrecking ball of bellyaching, and offer some constructive ideas, and a promise. Meanwhile, if you have been to an amazing conference, or can describe one from your imagination, or think I'm just being a grouch — please use the comments below.

Map data ©2012 Google, INEGI, MapLink, Tele Atlas. 

Update on 2012-11-01 13:37 by Matt Hall

Don't miss the next post, Ways to experiment with conferences.

The intentional professional

I'm involved in a local effort to launch a coworking and business incubation space in Mahone Bay, Nova Scotia, where I live. Like most things worth doing, it's taking some time, but I think we'll get there eventually. Along this journey, I heard a lovely phrase recently — intentional community. What a great way to describe a group of coworkers and entrepreneurs, implying a group formed not just on purpose, but also with purpose. 

But it made me think too — it made me wonder if some of the communities I'm involved in might be unintentional — accidental, inadvertent, perhaps even a mistake? Would you describe your workplace as intentional? If you're a student, are your classes intentional? That committee you're on — is that intentional?

Another phrase that keeps popping into my head lately is

Don't be a looky-loo. — Clay Shirky, Cognitive Surplus

Even if you don't know what a looky-loo is, you'll recognize the behaviour immediately. A looky-loo is someone who, taking Woody Allen's advice a little too seriously, thinks 80% of success is showing up. If you've ever organized a meeting, with an idea that you might get something done in it, you know the sort: they arrive, they eat the cookies, they do the small talk, then they sit there and stare at you for an hour, then they leave. No input given. No notes taken. No point being there. 

Next time you hear yourself described in passive terms — attendee, reader, employee, student, user, consumer, react to it. You're being described as a person that things happen to. A victim.

Instead of being an unintentional victim, think of yourself an essential part of whatever it is. You are a participant, a partner, a stakeholder, a contributor, a collaborator. If you're not an essential part of it then, for everyone's sake, don't go.

This is what professionalism is.