Meaning

It's Tuesday night and I just got home from my class on research methods. I've been thinking a lot lately about meaning and truth. The more I learn about statistics and quantitative research methods, the more I wonder about how we really know what is true in this world. As my professor tonight has said a few times, they are just "dumb numbers." He likes to say it's more important to "use your noodle" than to just trust the numbers.

So here's what I've learned about quantitative social research: We can measure human behavior through lots of instruments commonly called scales. Some of these scales are better than others, but all of them have some error. If we take these scales and use them to measure the behavior of a large random sample of people, we can assume that the sample represents the greater population. But the way we select the sample also introduces error into the research. And then, once we have a research hypothesis, we can test whether the opposite to the hypothesis is true or not. With this test, we can either reject or fail to reject this opposite hypothesis, called the "null hypothesis." But even then, our test can have error, and we may or may not reject the null hypothesis appropriately.

So we have error in our measurement tools, error in how we choose our sample, and error in how we test our hypothesis. And in the end of the day, the best we can do is to let our hypothesis live for another day until someone else comes up with a test that rejects it. It doesn't seem like much to hang your hat on. But then again, like my professor stated tonight, many think it's the best system we've got.

Truth in this world is elusive, indeed. As I've aged, the world has seemed less and less black and white, more of a tapestry of grays. I guess the danger is in reading a research study and ascribing it to be complete and total truth because it has statistical significance. This may make qualitative research seem more appealing, but the more I learn about that body of work, the more complicated it seems, and the more impossible it seems to do well.

Like numbers, words can be poor representatives of meaning. Take this blog for instance. I never knew how complicated blogging would make my life. Never did I imagine how easy it would be to create misunderstanding through the simple act of creating an online journal. It's been really hard at times to deal with this misunderstanding and I have thought not a few times about discontinuing this practice. It's hard to know if the benefit outweighs the cost - particularly since I'm not really sure what all the potential benefits and costs are out there.

For now, I think I'll keep plodding along. I've gotten enough positive comments that I think it's probably worth the effort for now. But if I come to the point of thinking it's causing others harm or if I can't be genuine with my voice here, I will hang it up.

Last week, I met with Tom and we discussed his school-based research project some more. Since then, I've taken a dive into the data set and have set myself to systematically understanding each of the measures that were given to the study participants. So I've been filling in the labels for each question asked, to get a good sense of the scope of the work. Once I get a better handle on SPSS and some of the statistical tests, I want to try analyzing the data. I'm planning to take it slowly, though, at least at first, so I don't mess anything up!

For fun, I've continued to explore Portland's food scene. Yesterday I got to take an old friend from Alaska out to lunch at Clyde Common. I had the Fried Chicken sandwich. It was excellent as usual. And before my evening class today, I visited Carafe, a French restaurant right next to my office building. It got the pick for best Happy Hour in the Willamette Week last year. They have great deals on french bistro fare from 3-6. My croque monsieur tonight was delicious.

Last Friday in fencing class, we got to practice swordfighting for the first time. I had no idea how much impact those little swords could deliver. It also struck me how much of a workout fencing can be. I think we only engaged for two minutes or so, but I was huffing and puffing in the end. I've gotten a little ribbing (pun intended) for taking fencing while on fellowship, but I don't mind. I think we separate the body and the mind too much in Western culture. Too much thinking and not enough sweating makes me nuts, too. And hopefully what I learn in fencing will help me focus when I hit the books. That's my theory anyway, and I'm sticking to it.

En garde!

I also decided last Friday as I rode my bicycle home over the Hawthorne bridge that I love Portland. There's something special about this place that grew up along both sides of the Willamette River. I'm not saying I want to stay in this city for ever, but it certainly has captivated my imagination. Maybe it's the quality of the urban planning, maybe it's the concentration of espresso shops, maybe it's the saturation of fine foods, I don't know. But it really is a nice place to hang your hat for six months, that's for sure.

I also realized last week how little stress my life has now. Sure all the moving has been stressful. But as I compare my mental state to what it was just a few months ago, I find a world of difference. I think it hit me the other night at dinner. I was there with the family and I was so much more present. I wasn't worrying about all the drama at work, I was just sitting there enjoying the food and the conversation with my family. And its been like that every night here. I just hope I can preserve that state of mind once my time here is done, and I re-enter the world of social work practice. Maybe the secret is the cat, who knows?

Celia and Ferguson with "Miner"