Silicon Slopes Tech Summit 2019

Day 1 of the 2019 SSTS is in the books and my favorite session from the day was a panel discussion on The Future of AI Talent in Utah. Not because I know anything about AI, but because one can apply the points made by the panel across many disciplines.

When answering a question about talent in Utah, the panel consensus was something along the lines of “Most applicants look the same—1% of the applicant pool are getting all the offers.”

I suspect this is somewhat exaggerated, but it begs the question: What makes that 1% special? How do people differentiate themselves?

What did the panelist say to the young crowd looking at AI as a career path?

  • Don’t rely on “cookie-cutter” (or in software terms “hello world”) projects to demonstrate competency.
  • Show a passion for solving problems.
  • Demonstrate your capabilities by publicly sharing your work—in the area of software development, maintaining a public Github repository for one or more projects. For those of us not in the software space, publishing in a reviewed, online journal would be an option.
  • And while we’ve all heard the college dropout success stories, having a strong educational foundation and simultaneously learning how to solve NEW problems—the ones not in the textbook today—is needed to stay competitive.

These recommendations sound like good advice for everyone looking to differentiate from the crowd.

How long do you need to learn something new?

Or build on something old?

A recent article from the Inside Higher Ed highlighted how experimentation in the delivery of online courses are driving the discussion on what the proper length of a class should be.

The familiar 12 to 15-week blocks align with my experience, and it was only after starting my position at the University of Utah where I realized this was no longer the norm. In my department, two, 3-credit, semester-long courses, were broken up (long ago) into six, 1-credit, 5-week courses. For upper division and graduate level classes, other departments offer “first-half” and “second-half” courses during the traditional semester allowing students the opportunity to broaden their experiences as they can select from a broader range of topics than what might otherwise be available. What has been the shortest course length? A single 3-credit course over five days (8:00 am to 5:00 pm), with a caveat that readings and assignments are due before the first day of class (i.e., there is pre-work involved) and they should expect additional homework each evening.

Most academics consider the last example extreme; however, this model is typical for professional development in many industries. I was fortunate to work in a company that valued professional development and participated in two courses—each taught as full days over a single week—that were similar to a university course. While not graded in the traditional sense, managers have to approve the cost of the course and weigh the loss of immediate work against the promise of improved productivity in the future. Good luck getting additional professional development approved if you cannot demonstrate benefits from your previous development courses. One of the biggest challenges in professional development is getting people to focus on the course and set aside the distractions of work—easier said than done.

So, back to my original question: How long does it take to learn something new or to build upon a previous skill? Can this be done in a single week? Or does it take three-plus months? For a traditional course, the mantra is two to three hours of study per credit hour—for three hours in the classroom each week, the expectation is a minimum of six hours of work outside — a total of 9 hours per week or 135 hours over the 15-weeks of a traditional semester. Assuming that the class-to-study ratio is closer to 1:1, the total time is 90 hours; depending on the topic, 90 hours would be manageable, and this could be more viable with structured pre-work. Of course, one is not an expert at this point but has obtained a level of competency with the subject. As a “self-directed” learner, 45 to 90 hours is a good approximation of the time needed for learning as I’ve built up various skill sets.

Could this type of intense schedule work? Would it be possible to take a three-course calculus series over 15 weeks if that was the focus? Probably, but we also need to consider the instructors. University faculty members need time outside the class for non-teaching activities: research, service, administration, course preparation, and advising are the most visible out-of-class activities expected at the modern university, and this out-of-class engagement is needed. But there might be some appeal to faculty as completing a teaching assignment in five weeks may open up opportunities for focused work during the rest of the semester.

If universities can exploit technology to maximize the high-value activities of their faculty, the traditional classroom will change, and it may reflect the time-intensive learning environments used by industry for professional development. It is worth exploring as the need for life-long learning will force us to become more efficient in education.

Lifelong Learning

The concept of continual improvement is an established business practice in today’s economy. The idea was founded in the statistical process control methods developed by Walter A. Shewhart of Bell Labs and later generalized by W. Edwards Deming into the PDSA cycle:

  • Plan: What are the desired outputs? What can be changed to achieve the desired goal?
  • Do: Implement the plan and gather data.
  • Study: Review the outcomes based on the collected data (more commonly called the “Check” phase).
  • Act: If the outcomes were meet, act to make the plan the new standard.

Of course, when completed, we return to the planning phase and look for further improvement to continue the cycle. Are we communicating this idea to students and employees? Can we apply this principle to the concept of “lifelong learning?”

Selfishness and unintended consequences

The 5 Whys is a simple technique for looking at problems—if you participate in community discussion groups, the issue of property taxes will undoubtedly come up. Here is my take on the problem applying a 5 Whys analysis:

Why are property taxes increasing?
Because home values are going up.

Why are home values going up?
Because more people are willing to pay more money to buy a home in our community.

Why are people willing to pay more money to by a home in our community?
Because the demand for homes in our community exceeds the supply.

Why is the demand for homes exceeding the supply?
Because we won’t allow new homes to be built.

Why won’t we allow new homes to be built?
Because people won’t support policies that allow for new development.

I’ve seen this play out in California, and the unintended consequences for the community will be devastating. Maybe not next week or next year, but eventually, the market price will force people rooted to the community out, and it’s not the “transplant” from the Bay Area or Los Angeles or Portland or Seattle or “name a major metropolitan area here” who will be at fault, it will be us. Our children will pay the price.

One of the main reasons I returned to Utah was simple economics. From a family point-of-view, I could not see my children being able to enjoy the same, high quality of life I had experienced if they chose to stay in California. The cost of living was too high, and this was driven primarily by the cost of housing. Why were housing prices so high? (See above)

The residents of Holliday, Utah unanimously rejected a new development on a vacant mall site that would have added a 775-unit high rise apartment tower and 210 single-family homes which would have included higher density townhomes. These would have been new places to live for young families and first homes for others. The development would have added office space for businesses as well as dining and entertainment options for the local community. But the residents didn’t want to change; they didn’t want something different in their city; they didn’t want to open up their community to others who can’t afford a $700,000 home.

I only hope that my city of Millcreek is less selfish and works to find solutions that allow our children (and newcomers) to live next to us along the Wasatch front.

Unwritten rules?

Working with graduate students in higher education is a satisfying experience, and it is rewarding to watch their personal growth as they progress through their program of study—once a student is in our program, I see it as my job to provide guidance and make sure they don’t get stuck. It is upsetting to the student, but also to me when they get stuck or leave the program because they fail to follow a documented process. Even though there may be a breakdown in the process, individuals are responsible for becoming knowledgeable about the requirements that impact them. But what about undocumented procedures or “rules?” I struggled this week to resolve a complicated issue and part of the problem—I figured out at the end of the process—was that I did not have all the information. There were unwritten rules.

At the height of my frustration, I thought this was a problem only found in academics; however, after giving myself time to reflect, I realize it is a problem in industry settings as well.

So my question is why? Why do we have unwritten rules?

Of course, it could be that there are no rules, just guidelines that are intended to be flexible based on the situation. This distinction is an important point. Guidelines provide flexibility for both parties in a negotiation which may not be the case with rules. Until it is written down, I would argue any process is just a guideline and negotiation is an option.

Where the rules are documented, there may be unwritten exceptions—situations that warrant deviation from the normal process. Unwritten exceptions recognize that managers (or administrators) encounter problems that deserve consideration based on the merits of the case. But why are they unwritten?

I think this is an issue of trust. Do you trust people not to abuse the exceptions? In organizations that work with high levels of trust, a defined process that evaluates exceptions remove the possibility of arbitrary application or favoritism.

Documenting exceptions provides a level of transparency and levels the playing field for those not inclined to challenge the status quo. Individuals who are reluctant to ask the question “why?” effectively lose out on options that are available to those willing to test the system. I doubt this the intent, but it can be the result.

As managers, we have a choice on how we set up the rules. I would argue that we should write them down and strive for a transparent and fair process.

No, but . . .

Did my degree get me a job?
No, but it got me noticed.

Did I learn everything needed to do the job in school?
No, but I learned how to learn new things.

Did I know what I would be doing five, ten, fifteen years after graduating?
No, but there were always new problems to solve or a need to simply get stuff done.

Did every new job come with a raise?
No, but each new job allowed me to grow professionally.

Did I do it alone?
No, I had—and still have—support from others every step of the way.

Is the sum of the whole greater than the parts?

Professionals don’t receive letter grades at work (at least, I’ve never received one). During our annual reviews, we might see statements such as “meets expectations,” or “exceeds expectations”—and hopefully not “needs improvement”; however, the summary statement is, or should be, part of a larger dialog on what went well over the past year, what didn’t, and what are the expectations for the next year.

Compare the way we evaluate work performance with education. For employees, we assess performance over a monthly, quarterly and yearly time frame. Students have a fixed time—days or weeks—to master a new set of skills and it is pretty much “all or nothing.” For employees, we have a simple metric, is the work getting done and meeting expectations! For students, homework is assigned, exams are given, and the answers are graded, and at the end of a class, we assume a transfer of knowledge.

At work, we are expected to improve and develop competencies continuously, and while most follow an annual review cycle, the tasks determine the schedule. The team requires a short time frame for some jobs, and others take months; often, the ability of the individual or group drives the plan. “How long is it going to take?” When the answer does not match the need, we look to adjust the scope or budget.

We have a fixed schedule in education. 15 chapters or five novels and reviews or three research papers—in 15 weeks regardless of ability or prior training. For mathematics and the sciences, knowledge is assumed based on the previous courses taken, but what if the student did not obtain competency? Can we expect that a C stands for competent?
 We assume that the sum of knowledge obtained in individual courses is greater than the parts.

As someone who has hired people to do work, the standard resume is limited in what it tells me about what the individual can do. Admittedly, some folks can craft two-pages that make a compelling case to pursue an interview, but we don’t know what someone can do unless we’re fortunate enough to see their work. This need makes hiring within your network compelling—you often have seen the applicants work, or at least have personal connections with those who have. Making the decision is expensive for the employer and fraught with risks—will this person be able to do the work, will they be able to integrate into the team, will they be able to contribute to future projects.

Educators have a responsibility to help students document how their skill sets address these concerns, and it’s not by issuing a diploma and a transcript. We need to help students document the competencies they acquire during the course of their education.

Don’t let my timeline limit your path forward

Applying the mantra of “what can I do now” is an effective way to move forward on long, complex projects that may be stuck or delayed. So, before becoming fixated on the finish, focus on how to keep moving so you can get started.

Following that . . . Academic calendars are not very flexible.
K-12 education has been on a fall/spring schedule for over 100 years and, surprising to me, an agricultural calendar was not the driving factor. (https://www.pbs.org/newshour/education/debunking-myth-summer-vacation)

For better-or-worse, higher education follows a similar calendar although most public colleges and universities now allow undergraduate students to start a program during fall or spring or summer (i.e., they have rolling enrollment) but this is not the case for most graduate and professional programs where a new cohort is formed each year. If someone wants to start a professional program and they miss the application deadline, they will look at the calendar and think there is nothing they can do until next year—don’t let the institution’s schedule prevent you from moving forward.

In the fall, I get emails asking if it’s too late to enroll—and at this point, it is for our program. However, for those wanting to start a graduate degree or certificate program, and it is past the official application deadline, I’ve recommended that they take the opportunity to identify possible gaps in their education or training that may come up during the application review when they do apply. Admission committee’s look at many factors (GPA, letters of recommendation, statement’s of purpose, etc.); however, most are trying to answer a simple question—will this person be successful in our program. Here a few items I’ve recommended to potential students as they navigated the application process.

Enroll in undergraduate courses (for credit) as a non-matriculated student to address gaps between your undergraduate degree and the graduate program. (A non-matriculated has permission to register but is not formally working toward a degree.) Earning a “B or better” can demonstrate readiness for more advanced work in the field and can effectively offset concerns that admission committees may have if a transcript shows underperformance as an undergraduate. If your undergraduate work was sufficient and you meet the pre-requisites then . . .

Ask for permission to enroll in a graduate course (for credit) as a non-matriculated student. If you are able to take a class associated with the program of study, it may be counted towards the graduate degree. But be warned, Colleges and Universities have strict rules for if this may be done and, if it is allowed, how many credits earned as a non-matriculated student can be applied to the degree or certificate.

My advice is pretty simple, even though you can’t start a program now, you can move forward and what looked like a one-year delay may become less than six months.

Problem-solving: step by step

As the resident household chemist, my college-age kids have routinely asked me to check chemistry problems for them—and I’m happy to do so. That said, sometimes I get stuck, and this is not fun for them or me, after all, I am expected to be the domain knowledge expert! Recently, we had a particularly challenging problem come up, and neither of us was able to get the correct answer.

When I was a student (many moons ago), there were answers at the back of the text for the odd exercises. If you were lucky, there was a solutions guide for all the practice problems. With online materials, every answer is available, and many have examples on how to solve the exercises, and for this particular case, when the solution was requested, we were presented with a single equation that incorporated all the information provided in the problem with the unknown variable, x, appearing on both sides of the equation. Below, the equation was the answer.

x = 0.217

?!?!

I looked at the equation and then looked at the answer—repeatedly.

I don’t get frustrated with first-year chemistry too often, but this exercise was presenting a challenge and then to have the solution be nothing more than a single equation with no explanation left me exasperated.

Ten-steps later!

I have no idea why the publisher didn’t include a real solution, after all, it’s not like they need to conserve trees, but summarizing a complex problem to a single equation without additional context was less than helpful. For my eventual solution, each step documented the progression from what was known, to the unknown, and when completed, we understood the scope of the problem and how this problem fit into the section.

Sometimes, all we need is the answer—0.217. Sometimes, we need more—or we need to provide more. Were all ten steps required for this problem? Maybe not as some steps may have been self-evident, but for complex issues, I would prefer to receive too much information as opposed to too little.

Do we need physical textbooks?

After an 18-year hiatus from teaching, I had the chance to teach an applied statistical techniques course this past spring. Feedback from the students was mostly positive, and the negative comments were expressed as constructive criticisms which I found insightful and actionable. For myself, the overall experience was positive, and I’m looking forward to building on the work and teaching the class again next year.

Along the way, I’ve also been tackling some data analysis problems using R, and a common theme has become apparent between teaching the class and my work—textbooks are obsolete.

For the course, only online materials from two sites were used as “required” readings, and except for the one weekend when the host website for one of the online books went down, there were no issues. (This did cause some stress, and fortunately, the site had provided all the material for download; however, the possible need to distribute this material made me temporarily question my selection of using only online materials.)

The other primary reading for the course is using a relatively new format called Bookdown. If the platform sustains support from the developers, this may revolutionize the way technical books—especially textbooks—are published.

When looking for a “book” on forecasting, I was pleasantly surprised to find a resource that had both a physical copy (available on Amazon, of course) and an online version. And while the theme for this new book was distinct, at the bottom of the page, there was an acknowledgment “Published . . . with bookdown,” which was the same method as the book above.

In addition to online books, online videos (mostly hosted on YouTube)  are providing content on implementation. Need an example of how to implement that function call in R? Someone has probably recorded a demo on that very topic. In teaching the class, I felt less like the disseminator of information and more like the curator—presenting content in an organized manner that allowed the students to gain new knowledge and skills.

I still buy books and having an option to buy a physical copy is definitely a plus, but it’s quickly moving away from being a requirement. It has never been easier to learn something new.