Last year, I wrote a blog post about why I think half-hour meetings suck. You should read it first before reading this one – it’s short. Also, I still stand by a lot of it.

The tl;dr is that most things that require meetings actually take 15 minutes, 45 minutes, or an hour, and that almost everything else shouldn’t be a meeting in the first place.

I am now going to elaborate and add a whole bunch of caveats.

About a year ago, while I was only a few weeks into the first graduate-level course I ever took, I tried asking a bunch of grad students what the difference between taking courses at the graduate level and the undergraduate level is. Being researchers in training (researchers are, in my experience, terrible at explaining themselves), they gave me delightful non-answers such as “it’s not that different” (this is a lie) and “your professors treat you like adults” (whatever that means).

I’ve been thinking a lot about the value of writing recently, especially in regard to how it’s been influenced by the advent of generative AI. In the past few months, I’ve had a lot of conversations in which people claimed that generative AI is just as good at writing as humans now, or better, in many cases. While I agree that AI generation tools are, at this point, better at the mechanics of writing than the average person, I have always found their outputs to be shallow and devoid of interesting surprises.

If you’re a computer science student, you probably had to take an introductory discrete math course at some point. Did you enjoy it? If so, this talk probably isn’t for you, so you can feel free to skip the rest. (Or not – hopefully you feel like you can still learn something from me!) Jokes aside, it’s actually okay not to enjoy your intro to discrete math course: like, personally, I loved mine, but I also completely hated my discrete probability course and would prefer never to see it again. But I pick on discrete math because I feel like if it’s taught well, it can be a turning point for many people, and it certainly was for me.

When I was in high school, I attended a magnet school for the arts, which meant that around 70% of the students had auditioned for competitive admission to a specialized program in theatre, visual arts, dance, music, or creative writing. This meant that there were often two versions of each art course: there was the version of the course intended for (and restricted to) the students studying in that discipline, and there was the general version, intended for everyone.