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I am writing this blog post with my 8-year-old daughter’s voice still ringing in my ears: “Yes—it’s difficult, but it’s fun.” As a student, she said it during a violin lesson after wrestling with a new bow technique. Anyone who has practiced an instrument may know the scene—scales repeated until fingers ache, a teacher correcting the same motion for the tenth time. We often tell our children (and our students as well), “Practice makes perfect,” but the road to perfection is slow, repetitive, and occasionally tedious.My daughter’s shy voice—“difficult, but fun”—captures what philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre calls an internal good: a genuine joy experienced only inside a repetitive practice. External goods certainly loom large in my daughter’s world—a coveted seat in the district orchestra, a résumé line that thrills her parents. For her, slow and repetitive practice is “difficult”: she may desire a “shortcut” to finish practice quickly and play with her friends. And yet, in the middle of that drudgery, she found a deeper joy: the quiet thrill of coaxing one clear note from stubborn strings. Here, (slow) formation, not (fast) efficiency aimed at external validation, is the point.Technologists assure us that artificial intelligence will free us from menial work so we can focus on more meaningful and creative work. When I asked ChatGPT about its educational role, it offered the usual optimism, focusing on efficiency:"AI can be a powerful tool to enhance human productivity and creativity. Rather than replacing us, it can augment our abilities, making work more fulfilling. In this way, AI doesn’t just make life easier—it helps us reimagine what work means and empowers us to spend more time on what truly matters."The pronoun us jumped out at me. AI speaks as though it already shares human aims. But does it grasp what makes learning formative rather than merely efficient?Let us picture a humanities classroom. Reading primary texts—Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, for instance—often feels like violin practice: dense, slow, and sometimes tedious. A student can now upload the text, prompt an AI for a synopsis, and receive an instant outline. Hours saved, concepts clarified, quiz scores boosted—external goods secured.Yet that shortcut bypasses the internal good of reading itself. Lingering over a paragraph is not wasted time; it is the learning. More importantly, as we read, the text also reads us: a paragraph questions an unspoken assumption, an unfamiliar idea enlarges imagination, a story strangely mirrors our own. None of that occurs when we outsource reading to the so-called “efficient” AI.When we reframe reading as a powerful practice of formation, tedium turns into joy. While we move through the words, we are simultaneously moved by them—seen, challenged, and reshaped by voices from centuries ago or a continent away. Out of that slow interaction emerges the joy of reading for its own sake. It becomes an interior reward that resists quick translation into productivity metrics.Such formation extends well beyond the classroom. Someone who once wrestled patiently with Aristotle may later join a neighborhood book club simply for the pleasure of shared discovery. The capacity to be transformed by texts—through a time-consuming, attention-demanding encounter—is a deeply human gift that no algorithm can replicate.On the other hand, from a social ethics perspective, I am concerned about the issue of accessibility to this formative dimension of education. As AI more embeds itself in education, the formative joys of slow learning might risk becoming a privilege. Students juggling multiple jobs or heavy caregiving duties are the ones who would be more tempted to outsource reading to generative AI tools. If engagement is priced in hours only the well-resourced can spare, we reinforce inequities that we, as educators, claim to resist.Although we continue to work on this challenge, it is crucial for us as educators to foreground formation—particularly communal formation—in our pedagogy. Yes, AI can be a powerful tool. And it can help students in many ways. For example, AI may serve as a tutor, offering personalized learning experiences. Nevertheless, we need to re-claim the distinct human gift in the slow, shared process of learning. It is the dimension of education that makes us who we are, as individuals and communities, and that AI simply cannot provide. Yes, it is difficult, but fun!

* Karen Yourish, Annie Daniel, Saurabh Datar, Isaac White, and Lazaro Gamio, “These Words Are Disappearing in the New Trump Administration,” The New York Times, March 7, 2025, https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2025/03/07/us/trump-federal-agencies-websites-words-dei.html.

(An audio version of this blog may be found here.) My editor is one of my most ardent supporters and a beloved friend. We are working, together, on my next book. He has not, in many months, received any pages from me. At a recent gathering, he asked me if I had been writing.My editor’s question was not intended as chastisement nor judgement. His tone of voice was casual, even pleasant. Immediately upon hearing his question, I felt a pang of shame or guilt or embarrassment—one of those kinds of stomach feelings that confirms that you are doing something irresponsible or questionable or inappropriate. Thankfully, my stomach relaxed as quickly as it had tightened. I told him I had not been writing. My editor waited for the explanation or the details. I told him that in the last few months, the time I had previously devoted to writing is now being used for coloring. I expected him to be surprised, but instead he was quizzical.He asked me what I liked about coloring. I really didn’t have an answer—I had not reflected on “why” I liked it. Again, my stomach flinched as if I was childish/shy—pointlessly confessional. I realized that while I am greatly enjoying my new-found hobby, I question my time being spent in this way—especially if it means that I am not writing. Then he said (knowing me and my ways)—it’s probably meditative. I accepted his speculation, then I told him I wanted him to look through my coloring books, select the best pieces. I wanted to display my best pieces in my house. He agreed.Coloring has become my new jam! But I am cautious, hesitant…The impulse to color was strong during the quarantine, but I resisted it. At that time, the activity seemed frivolous and lacking in enough “productive merit” to warrant pursuit. Then in January of this year, a roundtable participant gifted me with a coloring book and colored pencils. During that meeting I began to color.  Since that meeting, coloring has become a major past-time. My hesitancy is that I still question my use of time for this enjoyable activity.When I color, I lose myself. It is a way to relax, enjoy the moment. I focus without concern or worry. When I color there is no cynicism or irony. There is no pursuit. I am not prey. The worries, sorrows, and nameless fears dissipate. While I know these merits and I need these moments, I still question my time being used in this way.In recent months, I have explored varieties of implements: pencils, pens, gels, glitters and markers. I now have opinions about fine lines, thick lines and double-sided utensils. Last week, while grocery shopping, I swung past the back-to-school display to see if there were any markers or colored pencils I was unacquainted with or any refills I might make use of. I made a purchase.My fascination with this newfound hobby is multi-faceted. I am captured by learning to work with color (itself). I am intrigued by the many tints, tones, hues, and shades of any one color, while also being annoyed that for our limited eyesight there are only a few colors in our spectrum. Yes, white and black provide a bit more variability, but not much. I have a very wide lexicon for the color green. I am getting more acquainted with red.I have learned that the more acquainted I am with a particular subject or object, the more detailed is my coloring of it. This is why I know green. I am a long-time gardener. I have deep knowledge of trees, flowers, vegetables, bees, birds, soils, rocks and weather. I noticed that when I color a forest scene or landscape a kind of intimate knowing comes into play. I have clarity for the colors I select and the mood I create. When realistic precision is not the aim, I enjoy coloring geometric shapes and patterns.  In these pages there are no preconceived ideas of how things “should” look. The freedom of coloring without rules or prescriptions is refreshing.So many of my administrative duties are managing, planning, supporting, and caring. We set goals, know our aims, and reflect upon our experiences. The hours I spend coloring are hours devoted to creating beauty without the incumbrance of metrics or the obligation of accomplishment. Surely, this is, indeed, time well spent?Several years ago, I was a participant in a mid-career workshop which provided us the opportunity to develop an art or a craft. During conversation about which art or craft each participant might pursue the discussions grew tense. As colleagues considered their project options, they became stressed and felt pressed upon.  There were tears. After too much discussion, consternation, and push-back, our wise leader said,“Everything you put your mind to does not have to be at the highest echelon. You can do something on an amateur level. You can engage in something for the simple pleasure of enjoying it. You can learn something or relearn learn something without pressuring yourself to be the best at it. You can play at something without becoming an expert at it. Pick an artistic expression that will bring you joy.”This lesson stays with me. This is why I color.I have not stopped writing. I have started coloring. Right now, expressing ideas in colors feels better than expressing myself in words. I suspect the words will soon return. I hope the colors never depart.

To listen to this blogpost, click here.  Gray. The fog, thick and dreary, descended in late December. In early January, the artic blast assaulted with negative temperatures prolonged over consecutive days. Unrelenting gray. Consuming gray. Days of gray have now turned into weeks of gray. Relief from ice and snow has come in the form of days of downpouring rains – with temperatures still below freezing. Today, the expected high is 36 degrees Fahrenheit, that feels like 32 degrees Fahrenheit, with continued dense fog and forecasted 80% chance of precipitation tomorrow. It has been a prolonged—too long—moment of melancholy—dull, grim, and bleak. Then it happened... A few days ago I received a text from a beloved friend that read, Hi Lynne, I accidentally had a book sent to your house. It’s called (title of book). I’ve read it before, a borrow from the library. It’s pretty … wild. But you may like it. Hope you like it. [Red Heart Emoji] Surprise! Suddenly, the gloom was challenged by a bit of intrigue. A surprise book, an accidental book, was coming to my door. I needed a surprise book, especially if it was “wild.” Sure enough, that day the Amazon delivery person dropped the book on my porch. Immediately, I started reading. Immediately, I discovered a new author. Immediately, my spirits lifted. There is something about surprise--when it is pleasant--that combats the dreariness of the season. A surprise can chase the blues away or at least make the blues melodic and survivable. Teaching in the dead of winter can sometimes mean teaching in prolonged frigid weather. Winter can be both real and metaphoric to describe our environments. We know that our bodies, minds, spirits react with and are affected by light, temperature, barometric pressure, and precipitations. Being mindful of your own mood and the moods of your students is part of classroom management and good teaching practices.  Consider, when the moods are gray, planning a surprise. Too often planned surprises in courses are punitive—like surprise quizzes or surprise tests. That is not what I am talking about. I am talking about surprises that delight, intrigue, and bring some welcome relief from the long, too long, winter. When I received the marvelous book surprise from my friend, I was reminded of the ways I would attend to my own blue moods while teaching. I recalled some of the ways I would make gestures to bolster my students’ moods in the middle of the winter. I would, for them and for me, change the tempo of the course, introduce something or someone unexpected, and nurture a lighter-hearted atmosphere. Somehow, and most times, these gestures of care shifted us for the better. Here are a few examples of ways I went about changing pace and surprising my students: Brought a basket of chocolate to class to be passed; enough chocolate for all to have much Planned a spontaneous change of venue - moved the class session to the library, to the gym, to a science lab, or to a lobby of the building to sit on couches Invited a surprise guest lecturer; lecturer was the author of the book being read, former student who had done well in the course, local celebrity, Dean, Provost or President to discuss the topic of the course Planned a potluck or moved to the refectory for class—shared a meal during the class On a few occasions I brought my collie dog named Max to class. He was a warm and gentle giant who, as students arrived in the room, happily greeted those who wanted to play, then Max laid down at the door and slept until break when he received more pets and cuddles. Max’s presence lifted many spirits of students, and their glee made me smile. On several occasions, I thought of a class session as being like the “Free Parking” space in a monopoly game. Rather than what was planned for that session, I invited students to gather up their thoughts, questions, concerns, and we discussed whatever they wanted to discuss. Anything that came up! My conversation prompt would be—where are you in this learning? What have you learned thus far? Or I would suspend the planned session and gather students around (change in seating pattern) and ask them so what? /now what? questions. I would ask, how do you make meaning of this newly glimpsed perspective or new concepts? How does this affect your thinking, being, doing? What does your community, family, tribe think of what we are discussing? Is any of this valuable to your community? Brought art supplies to class and invited students, rather than taking notes, to draw, color, sketch, or work with play dough throughout the lecture Shifted to a skill-based lesson. What skills have you noticed that students do not possess, but you need them to be able to do? For example, good student skills of reading comprehension, writing skills, questioning skills. Showed a film complete with popcorn, soda, and candies Read aloud children’s books, poetry, or short stories You get the idea. Please be mindful that I am not saying for you to do what I did. Your context is different than mine and your teaching landscape is not mine. My point is to encourage and invite you to be aware of your own wintertime mood and the wintertime mood of your students, then adjust, modify – meet your students where they are, as they are. In the wintertime, sometimes the gloominess is better survived with a change of pace, with a gesture of care and warmth, with an acknowledgement that we need to be with one another but in gentler ways.  If/when you can brighten the spirits of your students, your own spirit will be glad. Spring arrives on Tuesday, March 19, 2024, at 11:06 p.m. EDT. We teach in hope.