Mood and Attentiveness

In Jonah Lehrer’s article about the benefits of depression, nothing seemed solid until I came across this:

[Joe] Forgas [an Australian psychology professor] placed a variety of trinkets, like toy soldiers, plastic animals and miniature cars, near the checkout counter. As shoppers exited, Forgas tested their memory, asking them to list as many of the items as possible. To [vary] mood, Forgas conducted the survey on gray, rainy days — he accentuated the weather by playing Verdi’s “Requiem†— and on sunny days, using a soundtrack of Gilbert and Sullivan. The results were clear: shoppers in the “low mood†condition remembered nearly four times as many of the trinkets. The wet weather made them sad, and their sadness made them more aware and attentive.

I found the scientific article that reports this experiment, in Journal of Experimental Social Psychology. Memory for the trinkets was measured two ways — recall and recognition — and both ways the “sad” shoppers did much better. I didn’t know about this; the size of the effect suggests it’s important. Calling it variation in “memory” is odd, since the remembered event was only a minute ago. Variation in attentiveness is a better summary.

Whatever you call it, I like the general point made in the scientific article. When you are in a good mood, you pay less attention to your surroundings than when you are in a bad mood. When you’re in a good mood, the model of the world in your head is working well. No need to change it. When you’re in a bad mood, the model of the world in your head isn’t working well. Time to gather more data and revise it.

My colleagues and I have studied a different effect along these lines (in rats): When things aren’t going well, you vary your actions more. You try new things more. That’s another way to update your model of the world.

More Movement, More Learning

This comment on my boring+boring=pleasant post persuaded me to look for research on how movement affects learning. I found this comment by Anne Green Gilbert:

Movement is the key to learning. I first became aware of this as a third-grade student . . . Movement was central to my teacher’s curriculum. . . . Everyone liked school that year, we all got along, and the knowledge imparted is still in my memory bank forty years later. . . .

When I became a third-grade teacher myself fifteen years later . . . I remembered this concept and used movement and dance to save myself from drowning in a classroom so heterogeneous I felt I was teaching in a one-room schoolhouse. Spelling words by forming the letters with bodies, forming punctuation marks and expressing the feeling of sentences through movement, learning multiplication by moving in sets of threes and fours, discovering the difference between lunar and solar eclipses through planet dances, and choreographing our way across the Oregon Trail somehow made everyone equal. The gifted children discovered a new and exciting way to learn, the slower learners quickly became actively engaged and successful, the non-English speaking students could finally understand the curriculum through our new nonverbal approach. Instead of dreading the long school day, we eagerly awaited our next movement experience. Attendance went way up; test scores rose substantially: there was laughter; racial tension dissipated. . . .

Five years after my own experience as a third-grade teacher in Illinois, I was training teachers at the University of Washington and received a federally funded grant to conduct research in the Seattle Public Schools. During the 1977 school year, 250 students from four elementary schools studied language arts concepts through movement and dance activities for twenty weeks. The third grade students involved in the study increased their MAT [?] scores by 13 percent from fall to spring, while the district wide average showed a decrease of 2 percent! The primary grade project [?] students also showed a great improvement in test scores. Most significant was the direct relationship the research showed between the amount of movement the classroom teacher used and the percentage increase of students’ test scores.

I find this very convincing: three situations, many measures. The way the movement lessons attracted diverse students is especially interesting; IQ tests were invented to reduce diversity in classrooms.

Partly I’m struck how this idea seems to have been ignored . “Everyone liked school that year.” Which seems to imply less liking of school other years. So the third-grade teacher used lots of movement, her kids loved it, but somehow second- and fourth-grade teachers didn’t imitate her. (Perhaps they did later.) “When I became a third-grade teacher myself . . . I remembered this concept.” Implying it wasn’t taught in her teacher-training program. On the other hand, it was emphasized in the teacher-training course that the commenter took (“I remember learning in my M.Ed that people learn better while moving and that we should therefore incorporate kinesthetic activites into instructional design”).

I’ve read many studies about learning by experimental psychologists and never encountered any study of the hedonics — what makes learning more or less pleasant. Learning is one topic, motivation (e.g., thirst, hunger) is another. There are a few studies of curiosity (in animals, not people) but they don’t show how to vary it. A professor of psychology might pooh-pooh the Gilbert stories: Sure, third-graders don’t like to sit all day. But my treadmill/language-learning story suggests it’s not that simple.

Assorted Links

Robert Reich Lectures at Berkeley

Yesterday I worked in a Berkeley cafe. The student sitting next to me said she was taking a course from Robert Reich called Wealth and Poverty. Most famous profs she’d found disappointing, she said, but not him. I was impressed that Reich was teaching undergraduates. Most profs in the Goldman School (UC Berkeley’s public policy school) don’t teach undergrads. The class is once/week for 1.5 hours (followed by a half-hour “salon” — meaning discussion) in a large lecture hall (Wheeler, 5 pm Wed). It met in a few hours. I went.

The topic was communities attracting large businesses, such as Boeing. Today’s topic should make you feel bad, Reich said. That was one of his goals, clearly — to make students neither complacent nor despondent. And he wanted them to be sophisticated: He didn’t want them to have a “bad-guy theory of the world”. Fine. I liked the way he walked around the big room, instead of staying on stage, and he had a great conversational manner. I also liked the way he used the first ten minutes to sum up what he’d said earlier.

What I didn’t like was the content. It was example-free — unless you count saying that Boeing moved to Chicago. As the lecture continued, my eyes widened: Is this what a good undergraduate lecture at Berkeley is like? There were no stories! Not one. He discussed, in purely hypothetical terms, how Boeing might decide where to move. They’re considering a number of cities, Chicago, Long Beach . . . Los Angeles. What will Los Angeles offer them? Tax breaks and subsidies, said Reich.

STUDENT What about good weather?

Reich didn’t answer. He went on to ask, rhetorically, were the tax breaks and subsidies a good thing? No, because they left less money for education. At this point I left. Except for being surprised by the low-quality content and amused by the student’s comment, I’d been bored. As education, it was thin gruel. The disjunction between Reich’s excellent intentions, great reviews (the room was packed), and great manner and his dreary content didn’t remind me of the name-dropping throat-clearing Yale prof but of the Los Angeles graduation where none of the speakers told a story. Somehow this simple point about how to teach — tell a story — had been forgotten.

Assorted Links

  • Does Robert Greenwald have a subtle sense of humor? See for yourself. Ted Sorenson, one of the interviewees, is widely thought to have ghostwritten Profiles in Courage. He denied it, but later told American Experience: “The author is the man who stands behind what is there on the printed page.”
  • Researchers fail to grasp that a spoof is a spoof. For instance, a case report involving a cartoon character was taken seriously. A Science News writer made this sort of mistake several years ago. I wrote to the magazine pointing it out. The editor who replied didn’t agree with me but said that the person who had written that piece was no longer working there.
  • “The mature product”. The truth about expiration dates.
  • Participatory science: “He drew the line at eating stewed mole.”

Thanks to Tyler Cowen and Ben CasnochaÂ

Boring + Boring = Pleasant!?

Fact 1: For the last few weeks, I’ve been studying Chinese using a flashcard program called Anki. It’s an excellent program but boring. I’ve never liked studying — maybe no one does. Fact 2: I’ve had a treadmill for a very long time. Walking on a treadmill is boring so I always combine it with something pleasant — like watching American Idol. That makes it bearable. I don’t think listening to music would be enough.

Two days ago I discovered something that stunned me: Using Anki WHILE walking on my treadmill was enjoyable. I easily did it for an hour and the next day (yesterday) did it for an hour again. The time goes by quickly. Two boring activities, done together, became pleasant. Anki alone I can do maybe ten minutes. Treadmill alone I can do only a few minutes before I want to stop. In both cases I’d have to be pushed to do it at all. Yet the combination I want to do; 60 minutes feels like a good length of time.

I’ve noticed several related things: 1. I could easily study flashcards while walking. This was less mysterious because I coded walking as pleasant. 2. I can’ t bear to watch TV sitting down. Walking on a treadmill makes it bearable. This didn’t puzzle me because I coded TV watching as pleasant and sitting as unpleasant (although I sit by choice while doing many other things). 3. I have Pimsler Chinese lessons (audio). I can painlessly listen to them while walking. While stationary (sitting or standing), it’s hard to listen to them. 4. When writing (during which I sit), it’s very effective to work for 40 minutes and then walk on my treadmill watching something enjoyable for 20 minutes. I can repeat that cycle many times. 5. Allen Neuringer found he was better at memorization while moving than while stationary. 6. There’s some sort of movement/thinking connection — we move our arms when we talk, we may like to walk while we talk, maybe walking makes it easier to think, and so on.

You could say that walking causes a “thirst” for learning or learning causes a “thirst” for walking. Except that the “thirst” is so hidden I discovered it only by accident. Whereas actual thirst is obvious. The usual idea is that what’s pleasant shows what’s good for us — e.g., water is pleasant when we are thirsty. Yet if walking is good for us — a common idea — why isn’t it pleasant all by itself? And if Anki is good for us, why isn’t it pleasant all by itself? The Anki/treadmill symmetry is odd because lots of people think we need exercise to be healthy but I’ve never heard someone say we need to study to be healthy.

The evolutionary reason for this might be to push people to walk in new places (which provide something to learn) rather than old places (which don’t). To push them to explore. David Owen noticed it was much more fun for both him and his small daughter to walk in the city than in the country. He was surprised. When I drive somewhere, and am not listening to a book or something, I prefer a new route over a familiar one. If I am listening to a book I prefer the familiar route because it makes it easier to understand the book.

Maybe the practical lesson is that we enjoy learning dry stuff when walking but not when stationary. Pity the 99.9% of students who study stationary. Ideally you’d listen to a lecture while walking somewhere, perhaps around a track. Now and then I’ve interviewed people while walking; it worked much better than the usual interview format (seated). The old reason was I disliked sitting. Now I have a better reason.

Assorted Links

Thanks to Dave Lull.

The Twilight of Expertise (by-the-book professors)

Imagine if, to get the news, you had to go somewhere and have it read to you! What a joke. From an article in the Washington Monthly about on-line education:

If Solvig needed any further proof that her online education was the real deal, she found it when her daughter came home from a local community college one day, complaining about her math course. When Solvig looked at the course materials, she realized that her daughter was using exactly the same learning modules that she was using at StraighterLine . . . The only difference was that her daughter was paying a lot more for them, and could only take them on the college’s schedule. And while she had a professor, he wasn’t doing much teaching. “He just stands there,” Solvig’s daughter said.

The excellent article misses something big, however:

A lot of silly, too-expensive things “vainglorious building projects, money-sucking sports programs, tenured professors who contribute little in the way of teaching or research” will fade from memory, and won’t be missed.

Via Aretae.

The Hollywood Economist

Edward Jay Epstein, a wonderful journalist, has just published The Hollywood Economist. I asked the publisher for a free copy. About two-thirds I’d already seen, mostly in Slate. The back cover says “ Freakonomics meets Hollywood saga” but I’d say “ Spy meets The New Yorker” — not that many people would understand “Spy”. It has a Spy- ish “here’s how things really are” aspect but with fewer embarrassing stories. And it has a New-Yorker-ish broad and deep view. (Epstein has often written for The New Yorker.) Like both Spy and The New Yorker it is very well-written. Although I’ve visited his website many times, I didn’t know about The Assassination Chronicles: Inquest, Counterplot, and Legend ( three books combined) nor Who Owns the Corporation: Management vs. Shareholders (69 pages). He’s currently writing a book about the 9-11 commission. From his profile: “I taught political science at MIT and UCLA for three years but then decided that researching and writing books was a far more educational enterprise.”

Widespread Loneliness

I’m fond of arguing that the Ten Commandments was a very political document. Notice it’s aimed at men? Notice that women aren’t protected, much less children? That’s because men had all the power. No one has said they already knew this or that I was wrong.

I thought of the Ten Commandments when a friend from Amsterdam wrote me about a recent experience of hers:

A very old man asked me to come to his apartment, and he would donate a bike to the project. I went over to get it, and it was half a bike, and it was locked to a pole…had obviously been there for years. The temperature was well below zero.  It became clear that he was in fact super-lonely, and torn between usual Dutch suspicion of strangers… and desperation for human contact.  He finally pleaded with me to come up to his apartment (where he obviously lived alone) but not before we spent 15 minutes trying to saw that rusty old bike loose, with his World War II-vintage hacksaw with missing teeth.

You may know that Dutch people are the tallest in the world, reflecting a very high standard of living. But — if this old man is not unusual — alleviating the loneliness of old people isn’t part of the Dutch social contract, admirable as it may be.

I recently watched the Frontline program Sick Around the World. It suggested that that old man isn’t unusual. In England, where doctor visits are free, a doctor said he has several patients who come weekly, purely because they’re lonely. In Japan, some patients have their blood pressure measured very often — presumably for the same reason. In Taiwan, if you see a doctor 20 times in one month someone from the government will come to talk to you. Not about loneliness — about overuse of medical care. The Frontline program made nothing of any of these facts, which were included to show that access was easy. That’s not all they show. What if the British doctor had said that several patients visit him often because they need water? Then we’d be shocked. Yet the idea that everyone needs human contact isn’t mysterious or controversial.

My explanation is there’s a double whammy: Not only do lonely old people have little power, it’s also clear that their problem (loneliness) isn’t caused by a “chemical imbalance”. So no drugs can be sold to treat it. And there’s no diagnostic category. It’s another example of gatekeeper syndrome. When these lonely old people exert what little power they have by visiting their doctor, the doctor — I’m assuming — doesn’t do anything to get rid of the loneliness. Even if you visit 20 times in a month.