A Personal Manifesto
Artist, poet, free spirit, writer, sports fan, technophile and deep thinker--all describe what I am and have been. My working class roots are in the Midwest, but I have been baptized an honorary Tar Heel by my family. I am a father of two wonderful boys, a devoted husband to my generous and patient wife, Maria, and I am active in my community. Born in Akron, Ohio (former rubber capital of the world), I pride myself on my ability to bounce back. I have struggled over the years to shape myself as an example of competence and stability. Yet, I still cherish my imperfections. My success has been the product of family contributions, my upbringing and my own hard work. But I have a vision to serve the public interest that I must follow.
I believe in the journey and my ability to take myself where I want to go. I also believe that others will want to follow. I am a consummate planner, yet I am free from the constraints of conventional thinking. I am a critical thinker, yet I work and play well with others. I hope to put those technical and people skills to work so as to increase my opportunities for professional collaboration. After all that has happened in the world as of late, I am still an advocate for social progress. I believe in the power of innovation that the Third Sector can bring to that struggle.
I also believe in government as a servant to freedom and as a key actor where markets fail. I believe in "right" solutions, not just market or government ones. Furthermore, I believe in my training and natural ability to analyze and solve complex problems. The same qualities are also useful in the more important task of "problem finding," which requires the ability to generate and build consensus. Ultimately, I think I can parlay that into a leadership position--hopefully, one which requires ethics, vision, hard work and a huge helping of determination. To lead, one must be willing to serve and that suits me to a T. Therefore, I believe in service to my family, colleagues and community. I also am a firm believer in the power of love to unite people and save lives. I hope that by doing what I love for others, I will come closer to understanding who I am and why I am here.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
PLS 595 JOURNAL ENTRY 7
Data collection was supposed to begin this week. Various complications and delays have prevented recruitment of participants since one month ago when I delivered the first version of the surveys to the Center. Last week all stops were pulled out by Kevin and the staff. However, according to Aly, no willing candidates met the qualifications: a child victim of abuse or neglect who is a resident or former resident of New Hanover county where the crime took place.
I fully expect that trend will not hold and that interviews will likely take place starting next week. Hopefully, Dr. Imperial's dire prediction of data collection difficulty will prove to be pessimistic. Meanwhile, my conversations with Kevin and his staff have led me to make a few changes. I have come to realize that the original pdf versions of the surveys were simply inadequate, even after we edited them. First, they lack all but the most basic questions about demographics--some have none at all. Without a few basic demographic details, it will be difficult to assess the center's performance with respect to the particular needs of its clients.
This observation, though late in the game, led me to request that case numbers be handwritten on all surveys in their current pdf forms which were taken straight from the evaluation manual. I also requested that the surveys for each case be attached together. Then, as I enter the data, I will also enter the following details: age of victim, income range, primary ethnicity(ies), zip code, and, possibly, a code that indicates the primary type of abuse or neglect. Other case details are also recommended. I must sort through the possibilities to come up with the best combination of specifics for each of the instruments. Though this type of data endangers the anonymity of the responses, I feel that it is necessary in order to increase opportunities for meaningful statistical analyses and, consequently, improve the usefulness of the results. Moreover, the case numbers are meaningless to anyone (such as myself) without access to the Center's protected database.
Second, in order to transition the evaluation over to Center staff and volunteers in December, I feel it is imperative to give them the forms in an editable format, such as MS Word or MS InfoPath. That will tend to ensure that the practice of program monitoring will not become irrelevant and die out through disuse. The Carousel Center is by no means a static program design. Growth and change are inevitable and this evaluation will need to evolve right along with it.
Right now, the project is one month out from data analysis. A number of loose ends remain and this rewrite is now one of them. I plan to spend the next week working on the new and improved instruments and building the corresponding databases in SPSS. I already have the child victim database designed. I intend to build the other three this week. The following week, I would like to meet with Kevin and Aly to discuss data analysis and decide what it is that they would like to know specifically regarding the Center's performance. I will lay out for them at that time what kinds of information I expect to be able to extract based on the data. Furthermore, we need to discuss the implementation and collection of the multidisciplilnary team surveys. Ideally, those should be completed no later than mid-November.
I fully expect that trend will not hold and that interviews will likely take place starting next week. Hopefully, Dr. Imperial's dire prediction of data collection difficulty will prove to be pessimistic. Meanwhile, my conversations with Kevin and his staff have led me to make a few changes. I have come to realize that the original pdf versions of the surveys were simply inadequate, even after we edited them. First, they lack all but the most basic questions about demographics--some have none at all. Without a few basic demographic details, it will be difficult to assess the center's performance with respect to the particular needs of its clients.
This observation, though late in the game, led me to request that case numbers be handwritten on all surveys in their current pdf forms which were taken straight from the evaluation manual. I also requested that the surveys for each case be attached together. Then, as I enter the data, I will also enter the following details: age of victim, income range, primary ethnicity(ies), zip code, and, possibly, a code that indicates the primary type of abuse or neglect. Other case details are also recommended. I must sort through the possibilities to come up with the best combination of specifics for each of the instruments. Though this type of data endangers the anonymity of the responses, I feel that it is necessary in order to increase opportunities for meaningful statistical analyses and, consequently, improve the usefulness of the results. Moreover, the case numbers are meaningless to anyone (such as myself) without access to the Center's protected database.
Second, in order to transition the evaluation over to Center staff and volunteers in December, I feel it is imperative to give them the forms in an editable format, such as MS Word or MS InfoPath. That will tend to ensure that the practice of program monitoring will not become irrelevant and die out through disuse. The Carousel Center is by no means a static program design. Growth and change are inevitable and this evaluation will need to evolve right along with it.
Right now, the project is one month out from data analysis. A number of loose ends remain and this rewrite is now one of them. I plan to spend the next week working on the new and improved instruments and building the corresponding databases in SPSS. I already have the child victim database designed. I intend to build the other three this week. The following week, I would like to meet with Kevin and Aly to discuss data analysis and decide what it is that they would like to know specifically regarding the Center's performance. I will lay out for them at that time what kinds of information I expect to be able to extract based on the data. Furthermore, we need to discuss the implementation and collection of the multidisciplilnary team surveys. Ideally, those should be completed no later than mid-November.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
PLS 595 JOURNAL ENTRY 6
The Keys to Being a Respected Professional
John Shaw says the difference between a professional and an amateur photographer is that the pro knows what not to include in the photo. That brings up an interesting question about what it means to be a professional. Is it really fair to say that professionals are simply more dedicated to their craft and, by that virtue, more discerning? Perhaps--but not always. I contend that becoming a professional means something much more than merely having higher standards than non-professionals. It is really a marriage between compatible "parties." If both parties are willing, the outcome can be a lifetime of companionship and respect.
Recently, my wife and I were discussing what it means to be a member of a profession. She, being an attorney, naturally associated the term in relation to a specific set of occupations, hers included. Practitioners of medicine, law, social work, engineering and, even, teaching are required by the state to acquire some form of licensure in order to practice them. Along with licensure, they exhibit the classic features of a profession:
I, on the other, hand was a little more glib about it. The general connotation of the term profession, as I had always thought of it, is a paid, licensed vocation. Witness, for example, professional contractors and barbers. Though these are certainly worthy professions by all of the above criteria, they don't really fit into the classic mold. Nowadays, moreover, the definition has gotten pretty sloppy so that anybody who works for a living is now a professional: athletes, janitors, barristas and all assorted metiers. This generic sense has robbed the term of much of its cache. That is what bothered my wife most about it: overuse has cheapened the meaning.
I agree with her there. Those of us with pretentions of competence have worked hard to earn our titles. Besides, membership fees in these organizations can be downright painful. That set me to wondering whether public administration actually fit the criteria of a profession. After all, it is certainly not classically associated with the term, nor is it a licensed vocation as per my own debased definition. Did I just spend years and thousands of dollars getting my MPA to merely switch tracks, or have I really stepped up in the world? More generally, what does it mean to be professional in a world where that appellation has been reduced to near beer?
I suppose it makes sense to look at the root of the word profession for guidance. The word originates from Latin profiteri "to speak forward (in public)," whence we also get the word prophet (one who does). Profession in the modern sense arrives from Middle English from "professio," a declaration or vow made upon entering a religious order. It would seem that to become a professional, one must commit body and spirit to a set of beliefs. That certainly makes sense pertaining to law, which has its own zealots and apostates. But public administration? Can one get an amen for that? "Belief" itself comes from the Indo-European root for love (-leubh). Thus, to become a professional is, by extension, to publically express one's love of a field. In a real sense, one becomes wed to one's profession.
It seems fair to say that formal dedication to a chosen field, to doing things correctly and in accordance with standardized practices, should somehow be included in the definition. Just as in marriage, one cannot be a true professional without dedication. Furthermore, one need not be paid in return for that dedication, since it is one of the intrinsic rewards a professional "pays" him or herself. Some of the greatest exemplars of history were, by strict definition, rank amateurs. One would hardly call Schopenhauer an "unprofessional" philosopher, or Van Gogh an "unprofessional" painter, simply because they earned no money from their respective vocations. All agree, they were consummate professionals in their time.
Moreover, a pro loves, honors and cherishes his or her profession. To fail to do so is to fail at the profession in a very real sense. Many a "professional" has been accused of being unprofessional despite the fact that they meet all of the foregoing criteria. That is because there is a cultural aspect to professionalism--practitioners care for and nurture their professions. Furthermore, they stand as sentinels to the profession--to have and to hold. They not only control who enters the field, they also help to define what it means to be a good pilot or police officer on two levels. On an instrumental level, they literally help to decide the kinds of things that good professionals do through codes, procedures, enforcement mechanisms and so on. On a more substantive level, they help establish what pros ought to be simply be being a good example of one--the best practices model. Thereby, real pros model professionalism to others. Just as in marriage, actions speak louder than words.
How real is this professional bond? To answer that question, witness how many real marriages have suffered and snapped under the strain of animbalancee between the personal and the professional--forsaking all others. Truly, some professions are jealous mistresses. While it is also true, some pros go into a profession just because of the money, they are not held up as paragons. Just as in marriage, a professional bond built to last is based on its own rewards--for richer or poorer.
Finally, there is that commitment to a calling and a life's work--the till death do you part part. Though, perhaps, this seems less certain nowadays, I would argue that true professionals only give up until they themselves give in (retirement or death). The bond is so strong in some cases that it follows the paragon to the grave. One cannot think of Jonas Salk, for example, without thinking about his occupation as a life-saving scientist or his many signature accomplishments. Few would actually think of him in any other way. Famous and nearly famous names are cited and honored in perpetuity not for the human beings they signify, but rather for what their owners did and how they did it.
Choosing a profession, therefore, may even be more momentous, in some cases, than whom one marries. Lest I seem unduly cavalier about the institution of marriage, consider its declining state. With marriages failing at record pace, one wonders why practitioners do not always exercise good faith and make an honest effort to salvage their personal relationships as consistently as they do their careers. Like marriage, people now talk about "starter careers," and "second careers."
Ex-careerist notwithstanding, patience and self-sacrifice are the hallmarks of true professionals--the ones who make at least one significant contribution to a field and thereby get remembered. It is no coincidence that they are also the ones who, through their commitment, garner the most rewards and command the most respect from their colleagues. It is as if by sheer force of will they are able to create their own legacy. And all that takes to set such an upward spiral into motion is a simple "I do." Dedication, however, isn't enough. Nor is discernment. It all comes back to a romantic notion of Mr. Right and his refusal to take "no" for an answer.
John Shaw says the difference between a professional and an amateur photographer is that the pro knows what not to include in the photo. That brings up an interesting question about what it means to be a professional. Is it really fair to say that professionals are simply more dedicated to their craft and, by that virtue, more discerning? Perhaps--but not always. I contend that becoming a professional means something much more than merely having higher standards than non-professionals. It is really a marriage between compatible "parties." If both parties are willing, the outcome can be a lifetime of companionship and respect.
Recently, my wife and I were discussing what it means to be a member of a profession. She, being an attorney, naturally associated the term in relation to a specific set of occupations, hers included. Practitioners of medicine, law, social work, engineering and, even, teaching are required by the state to acquire some form of licensure in order to practice them. Along with licensure, they exhibit the classic features of a profession:
- Specialized training (some definitions suggest at least a bachelor's degree, but this seems a tad arbitrary)
- Advanced skills based on theoretical knowledge
- Certification of competence through examination
- Membership in a professional association
- Adherence to an ethical code of conduct
- Continuing education requirements
I, on the other, hand was a little more glib about it. The general connotation of the term profession, as I had always thought of it, is a paid, licensed vocation. Witness, for example, professional contractors and barbers. Though these are certainly worthy professions by all of the above criteria, they don't really fit into the classic mold. Nowadays, moreover, the definition has gotten pretty sloppy so that anybody who works for a living is now a professional: athletes, janitors, barristas and all assorted metiers. This generic sense has robbed the term of much of its cache. That is what bothered my wife most about it: overuse has cheapened the meaning.
I agree with her there. Those of us with pretentions of competence have worked hard to earn our titles. Besides, membership fees in these organizations can be downright painful. That set me to wondering whether public administration actually fit the criteria of a profession. After all, it is certainly not classically associated with the term, nor is it a licensed vocation as per my own debased definition. Did I just spend years and thousands of dollars getting my MPA to merely switch tracks, or have I really stepped up in the world? More generally, what does it mean to be professional in a world where that appellation has been reduced to near beer?
I suppose it makes sense to look at the root of the word profession for guidance. The word originates from Latin profiteri "to speak forward (in public)," whence we also get the word prophet (one who does). Profession in the modern sense arrives from Middle English from "professio," a declaration or vow made upon entering a religious order. It would seem that to become a professional, one must commit body and spirit to a set of beliefs. That certainly makes sense pertaining to law, which has its own zealots and apostates. But public administration? Can one get an amen for that? "Belief" itself comes from the Indo-European root for love (-leubh). Thus, to become a professional is, by extension, to publically express one's love of a field. In a real sense, one becomes wed to one's profession.
It seems fair to say that formal dedication to a chosen field, to doing things correctly and in accordance with standardized practices, should somehow be included in the definition. Just as in marriage, one cannot be a true professional without dedication. Furthermore, one need not be paid in return for that dedication, since it is one of the intrinsic rewards a professional "pays" him or herself. Some of the greatest exemplars of history were, by strict definition, rank amateurs. One would hardly call Schopenhauer an "unprofessional" philosopher, or Van Gogh an "unprofessional" painter, simply because they earned no money from their respective vocations. All agree, they were consummate professionals in their time.
Moreover, a pro loves, honors and cherishes his or her profession. To fail to do so is to fail at the profession in a very real sense. Many a "professional" has been accused of being unprofessional despite the fact that they meet all of the foregoing criteria. That is because there is a cultural aspect to professionalism--practitioners care for and nurture their professions. Furthermore, they stand as sentinels to the profession--to have and to hold. They not only control who enters the field, they also help to define what it means to be a good pilot or police officer on two levels. On an instrumental level, they literally help to decide the kinds of things that good professionals do through codes, procedures, enforcement mechanisms and so on. On a more substantive level, they help establish what pros ought to be simply be being a good example of one--the best practices model. Thereby, real pros model professionalism to others. Just as in marriage, actions speak louder than words.
How real is this professional bond? To answer that question, witness how many real marriages have suffered and snapped under the strain of animbalancee between the personal and the professional--forsaking all others. Truly, some professions are jealous mistresses. While it is also true, some pros go into a profession just because of the money, they are not held up as paragons. Just as in marriage, a professional bond built to last is based on its own rewards--for richer or poorer.
Finally, there is that commitment to a calling and a life's work--the till death do you part part. Though, perhaps, this seems less certain nowadays, I would argue that true professionals only give up until they themselves give in (retirement or death). The bond is so strong in some cases that it follows the paragon to the grave. One cannot think of Jonas Salk, for example, without thinking about his occupation as a life-saving scientist or his many signature accomplishments. Few would actually think of him in any other way. Famous and nearly famous names are cited and honored in perpetuity not for the human beings they signify, but rather for what their owners did and how they did it.
Choosing a profession, therefore, may even be more momentous, in some cases, than whom one marries. Lest I seem unduly cavalier about the institution of marriage, consider its declining state. With marriages failing at record pace, one wonders why practitioners do not always exercise good faith and make an honest effort to salvage their personal relationships as consistently as they do their careers. Like marriage, people now talk about "starter careers," and "second careers."
Ex-careerist notwithstanding, patience and self-sacrifice are the hallmarks of true professionals--the ones who make at least one significant contribution to a field and thereby get remembered. It is no coincidence that they are also the ones who, through their commitment, garner the most rewards and command the most respect from their colleagues. It is as if by sheer force of will they are able to create their own legacy. And all that takes to set such an upward spiral into motion is a simple "I do." Dedication, however, isn't enough. Nor is discernment. It all comes back to a romantic notion of Mr. Right and his refusal to take "no" for an answer.
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