Archive for March, 2013
I like …
… that the President of my university, Dr. Alan Davis, blogs. His tone is friendly and informal, and it’s clear he likes being at Kwantlen. (He tweets, too.)
Learning from my students
I tell people I learn more from my students than I teach them. It’s a cliché, I know, but it is still very often the case.
This semester I’m teaching a third-year course in digital marketing at Kwantlen Polytechnic University. (Course description: “Students will learn the key business and technological elements of digital marketing explained through theory and business case analysis. Students will become familiar with a variety of online marketing tools that support the online marketing functions that help drive traffic to a website, improve conversion rates, and achieve overall marketing objectives.”) It’s my second time around with this course, and, as much as I hope I’m getting the hang of it, it’s a challenging endeavor, because social-media platforms are coming into being or heading into the “sunset” continually.
Each of my students has a blog and a Twitter-feed in which he or she addresses developments in digital media. I learn something crucial almost every day from what these keen and wonderful students post. My students don’t get paid, but they are team-teaching a university class.
You can follow some of their conversation on Twitter: The class hashtag is #MRKT3311.
Buffalo
I recently had the happy opportunity to revisit the city in which I completed my undergraduate years and started my professional life as an editor. I doubt anything could entice me to leave Vancouver and British Columbia, but the fine old physical and historical beauty as well as the vibrant social character of Buffalo remain as appealing and wonderful as always. Even the fallen fields of the East Side retain a vivid dignity.
Bruce Lock
You were a trustworthy and shrewd partner in business, and a total gas in friendship. Even when we were tangling, you had my back. We made our deadlines, we made things happen, and here and there we made a little bit of money.
Long Sundays in summer, on The Sylvia’s patio, with beers and smokes, we said almost not a word, and we wasted not a moment, taking in the dimming of the day, with one another. I will grieve you, my friend. We all cherished you.
Comments off