Bixi Review, 2014

Another season of BIXI, Montreal's public bike system, has come and gone. This is the second year I've used BIXI, and I renewed my pass in July so I'm signed up for next year as well.

Before I jump into my review, let's look at the stats from my last year of BIXI-ing:

During the 214 days in between April 15 and November 15, I used a BIXI 294 times! Some days I definitely didn't use a BIXI at all, but other days I would use it for three or four different trips. Normally, I would have walked those distances or had to take the metro or bus. Overall, I definitely saved money through using BIXI as an alternative to Montreal's other public transit options. My average usage time has been increased from last year (unfortunately, I don't have those stats saved, but I can see my cumulative stats). I've traveled a total of 868.2 km by bike, which is more than Toronto to Quebec City or Banff to Saskatoon. Of course, this distance was in short stints of two or three kilometres on average, but it demonstrates how biking adds up even for short trips in urban environments. I don't really have a conception of how much 61 litres of gas is, but I'm definitely glad that

As soon as April arrived, I was getting antsy for BIXI stations to start appearing. My first bike ride of the season was great, despite the inevitable spring meltoff sending spray everywhere.

I've used BIXI a lot more this year than last year, partly due to being in Montreal the whole summer as opposed to just a month, but also largely due to my expanding Montreal horizons. I moved out of the McGill ghetto to the Plateau, I started biking out to visit my boyfriend in Montreal Ouest (meaning I used the westernmost BIXI station, all the way by the Loyola campus, a few times a week - can we get just one more a little farther, BIXI?), and I just explored the city more, going to cafes and parks and bars that weren't just a couple minutes from campus.

Since BIXI's end of season reports have been released, they've been confirmed to continue until at least 2019, despite their bankruptcy, the City of Montreal bailout, and decreased ridership numbers compared to last year. Huzzah!

I've noticed less BIXI advertising, but, more significantly, far more BIXIs in bad condition. Compared to last year, I've taken out noticeably more BIXIs with broken down gears or flat tires. This experience is anecdotal, of course, but its been corroborated by other BIXI users I've talked to.

Additionally, I have a couple of friends who had trouble dealing with BIXI at all. They purchased their membership and then had to wait weeks, or even months, to get their keys, leading at least a couple to demand a refund and give up on the program. When the BIXI survey asked if a location to pick up keys would be helpful, I agreed and then commented as well - delays like that quickly take the joy and sustainability out of a program.

Even though I'm going to be buying a bike (45 minute BIXI rides are not fun when you're trying to get somewhere quickly), I'm still going to use BIXI regularly and I'm still a believer in the program. It's a great entry for people who are visiting (even though I dislike the assumption that no real Montrealer would ever use a BIXI), can't afford to buy a bike, or just don't want to worry about Montreal's rampant bike theft. Additionally, the convenience of BIXIs (usually) can't be beat, even if stations are sometimes empty or full.

Of course, I also have to note that BIXIs aren't for everyone - I'm a dedicated and thrifty biker, meaning if I have to bike twenty minutes in the rain, I will, rather than waiting for the bus or getting on the metro. For others I know who have BIXI, it's only an alternative in perfect conditions - which doesn't often include Montreal traffic, though I have to note that BIXIs heaviness and slowness make them more noticeable.

BIXI could do better, and hopefully now that they're not on probation anymore they can improve their customer service, maintenance of the bikes, and service area. A good program right now, but it has the potential to be markedly better.

McGill for Humanities - live tweet archive

Brief thoughts on mental health, academia, and social networks

Recently, Guardian published an article titled There is a culture of acceptance around mental health issues in academia as part of its Academics Anonymous series.

In the past couple days, I've seen it shared several times among my academic networks on Facebook. I'm glad people are reading and sharing it; mental illness in academia is definitely a problem, and the post itself is well-written and gets to the heart of a lot of academic issues facing post-graduates. (I particularly appreciated the inclusion of the uncertainty of non-academic jobs and supervisors who resist addressing the mental health of their students.)

What's shocking, and what I just realized, however, is that this is the first time I can remember such an article making the rounds on Facebook. The subject material is nothing new; I've been reading similar articles on Chronicle of Higher Ed, Hook and Eye, and other sources for years. The academics I follow on Twitter and in #PhDchat are regularly sharing and having conversations about such issues, resulting in an always-present awareness of mental health issues in academia (along with the adjunct crisis, job market craziness, and gender/race politics in higher ed, among others).

However, I have never seen any of these articles shared on Facebook. The conversation for some surrounding mental health in academia is, if not just beginning, entering a more open, common, and normalized round of dialogue.

What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is that the sudden omnipresence of this article following an absence of other discussions has really emphasized the exact problem the article, and others like it, describes: mental health is an accepted part of academia that no one wants to address, whether for reasons of reputation, expectations, or fear.

I think I might need to start sharing some Hook and Eye articles on Facebook...

Reflections on Literacy, pt. 1

(cross-posted at the Literacy Challenge blog)

"Four out of 10 adult Canadians, age 16 to 65 - representing 9 million Canadians - struggle with low literacy. They fall below level 3 on the prose literacy scale [3 is the minimum skills level suitable for coping with the demands of everyday life and work in a complex, advanced society. It denotes roughly the skill level required for successful secondary school completion and college entry]." - ABC Life Literacy

This February, I'm participating in a Literacy Challenge being put on by the University of Saskatchewan Writing Centre (spear-headed by the amazing and inspiring Liv Marken) and Read Saskatoon. The challenges are part of the Speed Scrabble Tournament for Literacy, for which I volunteered for the past two years. This year, I'm participating at a distance from Montreal, but it doesn't mean I feel any less for the cause; rather, after living in a Francophone city for a few months with limited French language skills, I understand more than ever before the influence of literacy on getting a job, appreciating culture, and even having mental well-being.

The challenges are designed to give participants a glimpse into what it's like to have limited literacy, and prominently include reflection. If you're interested, definitely check out the Literacy Challenge website, or even consider donating to the Speed Scrabble Tournament for Literacy (Facebook | Twitter | Donate). Also, some great posts have already been written and I encourage you to check them out, too!

Now, before I get started, I just wanted to mention that literacy refers to more than just being able to identify letters, or even read and comprehend, for that matter. Financial literacy and numeracy is critical - How much money will you make in a year? How quickly will it take to pay off your debt? What about "new literacy," or how to use computers, how to research and how to understand the information you find online? Literacy is a very broad field; don't assume that an elementary school education with Dick and Jane is sufficient. In fact, literacy is usually measured on a scale of 1 to 5, with 3 as " The minimum skills level suitable for coping with the demands of everyday life and work in a complex, advanced society."

Part 1 

The first section of the challenge involved reflecting on privilege - the very privilege that is being taken advantage of in writing these blog reflections and communicating on the Internet. First, we were asked to read the blog post "Literacy Privilege: How I Learned to Check Mine Instead of Making Fun of People’s Grammar on the Internet." Now, I'd read this article before when it was first making the rounds on social media, and I was really influenced by it then, for reasons I'll get into below. If you haven't read it, I emphatically and totally recommend it; it changed how I interact on and think about the Internet and its democratizing and communication potential. If you're worried about adding dense reading to your day, the article opens with "My name is Chandra, and I am a recovering grammar snob" and has cat memes - so why wouldn't you read it?

Secondly, we had to complete the blogger's literacy privilege checklist. I can do all the things on this list; however, reading through the items, I was reminded at how much I take literacy for granted. I've highlighted the ones that were particularly striking and left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable (and even guilty?), but I recommend taking a look at all the options and thinking about your own privilege.

Literacy Privilege Checklist:

• I can easily and safely navigate my way around the city I live in because I understand all of the posted signs, warnings and notifications.
• I can make healthy and informed choices about the products I purchase because I can accurately read their labels and price tags.
• I can safely use pharmaceuticals prescribed to me without having to remember the doctor’s or pharmacist’s instructions because I can accurately read their labels.
• When required to visit doctors, hospitals, government agencies, banks, or legal offices, I do not have to invent excuses to bring paperwork home so that someone else can read it to me. If I live alone, I do not have to expose myself to judgement and ridicule by asking the doctor, nurse, agent, clerk, lawyer or other employee to read it to me.
• I can independently make informed medical, legal, political and financial decisions about myself and my family because I can read and understand important documents.
• I can be sure that my paycheques and bills are accurate because I can read them to check for errors.
• I can acquire a driver’s license and its associated freedoms because I am able to complete the written test for a learner’s permit.
• I can accept invitations to a restaurant without anxiety because I know I will be able to read the menu.
• I can accept invitations to weddings, showers and other special events without anxiety because I know I will be able to write a legible card for my hosts.
• I can be informed about important events and news in my community, state/province and nation because I can read the local and national newspapers.
• I can make my voice heard on important topics in my community by writing a letter to the editor of my local newspaper.
• I can influence policy decisions that affect me by writing letters and e-mails to my elected officials.
• I can help my children with their homework. I can read letters and flyers sent home by my children’s teachers and school administrators.
• I can attend parent-teacher interviews without fearing that my literacy level will be exposed to teachers or other parents.
• People do not make inaccurate negative judgements about my intelligence, competence and work ethic based on my reading and writing abilities. (I've done this in the past; in part, it is what I'm trained to do by academia. Ouch.)
• My freedom to explore career options that interest me is not limited by my literacy level.
• I have never had to turn down an offer of job promotion because I was afraid the literacy demands would be too high.
• I can work safely and effectively at my job because I understand all of the posted signs, warnings and notifications.
• I can improve my employability and socioeconomic standing by enrolling in certification courses or postsecondary programs that require strong literacy skills.
• I can explore ideas I’m interested in by reading articles and books about them.
• I can keep personal records of ideas, dreams, thoughts, and important events in my life without needing to rely on my memory, by keeping a journal.
• I can stay in contact with loved ones who live far away through letters and e-mails.

Part 2

Reflect on one of a number of literacy statistics, all of which can be seen here.

Canadians who drop out of high school can expect to earn at least $3,000 less per year than those who have graduated from high school. In Saskatoon, 20% of our adult population does not have a high school diploma (Canadian Council on Learning, 2010).

The striking number for me isn't that those who drop out make less money; rather, it's that in Saskatoon, an urban centre boasting the major university of the province, several tech schools, and other post-secondary education institutions, 1 out of 5 people do not have a high school diploma. In a rural setting like where I grew up, I would be less surprised; many people quit as soon as possible to work in various economies surrounding agriculture, and even during my parents' generations it wasn't that odd to not complete high school.

I don't even know how one goes about getting a job, or what kind of jobs are available, to those without a high school diploma, beyond hearing how difficult it is/was for a cousin to find a job. Any form of higher education, including trades are inaccessible, and even a lot of service positions (A&W, etc) require completion of high school now.

I'm sure some of this statistic may be elderly or otherwise out of the working pool (even though literacy is crucial for participating in culture and community), but I can't help but think more of those within the first few decades of life and worry that they're already handicapped in the races; they're not only pushed back behind the start line, but they might not be able to read the signs of where to turn or have the access card to get on the on-ramp.

(I'll post links to the other posts of my reflections when I write them.)

First lecture experience

I taught my first lecture today, and I have many, many thoughts.

Now, don't get me wrong - I've done many conference presentations, in-class presentations where I was responsible for the class, and a variety of writing workshops and other similar public speaking engagements. I've also read and thought a great deal about teaching and pedagogy through my volunteer work at the University Learning Centre at the University of Saskatchewan (which might not be around much longer because of budget cuts, so that link might break) and through the many articles, tweets, and other materials provided by other academics on the subject.

But, because of either having funding or working research positions, I've never been a TA or lectured a class.

I was recently asked by a colleague to step in and teach her class while she was out of town. The course was on satire, with the lecture that day being about Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's  “Verses Addressed to the Imitator of the First Satire of the Second Book of Horace” and Alexander Pope's "Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot." I was familiar with the works, and the lecture notes were provided, so I basically had to read them and encourage some responses after group work.

Overall, it went all right, but I have a lot of thoughts and feelings...

1. It's difficult to separate the feelings of being a lecturer and being a student.
   I know how to interact with other grad students, or audiences at conferences. Students, however, are different in some intangible way. The power dynamic between lecturer and student? I'm not sure.
   When I'm at the front of the classroom, I sometimes get distracted with thinking about whether I'm giving them the best at any given moment. I've been an undergrad student recently enough that I clearly remember my frustration, scorn, or apathy regarding guest lecturers or just lecturers who didn't do what I considered to be a good enough job, and the idea of being on the other side of those feelings can be very anxiety-inducing, especially when it hits you in the middle of a lecture in front of a class.
   
2. Being a young scholar (in age and research) can be difficult.
   I'm not even halfway through my twenties yet, and there were undoubtedly some people in the class older than me. Hello, impostor syndrome! I had to fight for my voice to not go up a few notes and to remain assertive and like I knew what I was doing, and, most importantly, to not worry about whether they wondered how this kid has the gumption to tell them stuff.
   
3. I really enjoy teaching.
   I like sharing information about cool things. I love it when people can construct an idea and an argument.
   
4. Audio-visual aids = my best friend
   I just went off of the notes provided to me, but I lecture more naturally when I have those sorts of aids to help out.
   
5. Group Work
   I hated group work as a student. However, after all the work I've done through the ULC and things I've read about pedagogy, I can see the benefit. Also, as a lecturer, the idea of getting up and talking about things for an hour every class? Or longer classes? Let's just say that I'm glad I'm in a discipline where discussion can be easily integrated into a class.

These thoughts are all still swirling around, especially as I only taught a couple hours ago, but I wanted to get them down while still fresh so that, in a couple years when I have more teaching experience, I can revisit them and compare how much I've learned and developed.