A new blog, and a new course

There's a great new geoscience blog on the Internet — I urge you to add it to your blog-reading app or news reader or list of links or whatever it is you use to keep track of these things. It's called Geology and Python, and it contains exactly what you'd expect it to contain!

The author, Bruno Ruas de Pinho, has nine posts up so far, all excellent. The range of topics is quite broad:

In each post, Bruno takes some geoscience challenge — nothing too huge, but the problems aren't trivial either — and then methodically steps through solving the problem in Python. He's clearly got a good quantitative brain, having recently graduated in geological engineering from the Federal University of Pelotas, aka UFPel, Brazil, and he is now available for hire. (He seems to be pretty sharp, so if you're doing anything with computers and geoscience, you should snag him.)

A new course for Calgary

We've run lots of Introduction to Python courses before, usually with the name Creative Geocomputing. Now we're adding a new dimension, combining a crash introduction to Python with a crash introduction to machine learning. It's ambitious, for sure, but the idea is not to turn you into a programmer. We aim to:

  • Help you set up your computer to run Python, virtual environments, and Jupyter Notebooks.
  • Get you started with downloading and running other people's packages and notebooks.
  • Verse you in the basics of Python and machine learning so you can start to explore.
  • Set you off with ideas and things to figure out for that pet project you've always wanted to code up.
  • Introduce you to other Calgarians who love playing with code and rocks.

We do all this wielding geoscientific data — it's all well logs and maps and seismic data. There are no silly examples, and we don't shy away from so-called advanced things — what's the point in computers if you can't do some things that are really, really hard to do in your head?

Tickets are on sale now at Eventbrite, it's $750 for 2 days — including all the lunch and code you can eat.

Two new short courses in Calgary

We're running two one-day courses in Calgary for the CSPG Spring Education Week. One of them is a bit... weird, so I thought I'd try to explain what we're up to.

Both classes run from 8:30 till 4:00, and both of them cost just CAD 425 for CSPG members. 

Get introduced to Python

The first course is Practical programming for geoscientists. Essentially a short version of our 2 to 3 day Creative geocomputing course, we'll take a whirlwind tour through the Python programming language, then spend the afternoon looking at some basic practical projects. It might seem trivial, but leaving with a machine fully loaded with all the tools you'll need, plus long list of resources and learning aids, is worth the price of admission alone.

If you've always wanted to get started with the world's easiest-to-learn programming language, this is the course you've been waiting for!

Hashtag geoscience

This is the weird one. Hashtag geoscience: communicating geoscience in the 21st century. Join me, Evan, Graham Ganssle (my co-host on Undersampled Radio) — and some special guests — for a one-day sci comm special. Writing papers and giving talks is all so 20th century, so let's explore social media, blogging, podcasting, open access, open peer review, and all the other exciting things that are happening in scientific communication today. These tools will not only help you in your job, you'll find new friends, new ideas, and you might even find new work.

I hope a lot of people come to this event. For one, it supports the CSPG (we're not getting paid, we're on expenses only). Secondly, it'll be way more fun with a crowd. Our goal is for everyone to leave burning to write a blog, record a podcast, or at least create a Twitter account. 

One of our special guests will be young-and-famous geoscience vlogger Dr Chris. Coincidentally, we just interviewed him on Undersampled Radio. Here's the uncut video version; audio will be on iTunes and Google Play in a couple of days:

A coding kitchen in Stavanger

Last week, I travelled to Norway and held a two day session of our Agile Geocomputing Training. We convened at the newly constructed Innovation Dock in Stavanger, and set up shop in an oversized, swanky kitchen. Despite the industry-wide squeeze on spending, the event still drew a modest turnout of seven geoscientists. That's way more traction then we've had in North America lately, so thumbs up to Norway! And, since our training is designed to be very active, a group of seven is plenty comfortable. 

A few of the participants had some prior experience writing code in languages such as Perl, Visual Basic, and C, but the majority showed up without any significant programming experience at all. 

Skills start with syntax and structures 

The first day we covered basic principles or programming, but because Python is awesome, we dive into live coding right from the start. As an instructor, I find that doing live coding has two hidden benefits: it stops me from racing ahead, and making mistakes in the open gives students permission to do the same. 

Using geoscience data right from the start, students learn about key data structures: lists, dicts, tuples, and sets, and for a given job, why they might chose between them. They wrote their own mini-module containing functions and classes for getting stratigraphic tops from a text file. 

Since syntax is rather dry and unsexy, I see the instructor's main role to inspire and motivate through examples that connect to things that learners already know well. The ideal containers for stratigraphic picks is a dictionary. Logs, surfaces, and seismic, are best cast into 1-, 2, and 3-dimensional NumPy arrays, respectively. And so on.

Notebooks inspire learning

We've seen it time and time again. People really like the format of Jupyter Notebooks (formerly IPython Notebooks). It's like there is something fittingly scientific about them: narrative, code, output, repeat. As a learning document, they aren't static — in fact they're meant to be edited. But they aren't so open-ended that learners fail to launch. Professional software developers may not 'get it', but scientists really subscribe do. Start at the start, end at the end, and you've got a complete record of your work. 

You don't get that with the black-box, GUI-heavy software applications we're used to. Maybe, all legitimate work should be reserved for notebooks: self-contained, fully-reproducible, and extensible. Maybe notebooks, in their modularity and granularity, will be the new go-to software for technical work.

Outcomes and feedback

By the end of day two, folks were parsing stratigraphic and petrophysical data from text files, then rendering and stylizing illustrations. A few were even building interactive animations on 3D seismic volumes.  One recommendation was to create a sort of FAQ or cookbook: "How do I read a log?", "How do I read SEGY?", "How do I calculate elastic properties from a well log?". A couple of people of remarked that they would have liked even more coached exercises, maybe even an extra day; a recognition of the virtue of sustained and structured practice.

Want training too?

Head to our courses page for a list of upcoming courses, or more details on how you can train your team

Photographs in this post are courtesy of Alessandro Amato del Monte via aadm on Flickr

Once is never

Image by  ZEEVVEEZ  on Flickr, licensed  CC-BY . Ten points if you can tell what it is...

Image by ZEEVVEEZ on Flickr, licensed CC-BY. Ten points if you can tell what it is...

My eldest daughter is in grade 5, so she's getting into some fun things at school. This week the class paired off to meet a challenge: build a container to keep hot water hot. Cool!

The teams built their contraptions over the weekend, doubtless with varying degrees of rule interpretation (my daughter's involved HotHands hand warmers, which I would not have thought of), and the results were established with a side-by-side comparison. Someone (not my daughter) won. Kudos was achieved.

But this should not be the end of the exercise. So far, no-one has really learned anything. Stopping here is like grinding wheat but not making bread. Or making dough, but not baking it. Or baking it, but not making it into toast, buttering it, and covering it in Marmite...

Great, now I'm hungry.

The rest of the exercise

How could this experiment be improved?

For starters, there was a critical component missing: control. Adding a vacuum flask at one end, and an uninsulated beaker at the other would have set some useful benchmarks.

There was a piece missing from the end too: analysis. A teardown of the winning and losing efforts would have been quite instructive. Followed by a conversation about the relative merits of different insulators, say. I can even imagine building on the experience. How about a light introduction to thermodynamic theory, or a stab at simple numerical modeling? Or a design contest? Or a marketing plan?

But most important missing piece of all, the secret weapon of learning, is iteration. The crucial next step is to send the class off to do it again, better this time. The goal: to beat the best previous attempt, perhaps even to beat the vacuum flask. The reward: $20k in seed funding and a retail distribution deal. Or a house point for Griffindor.

Einmal ist keinmal, as they say in Germany: Once is never. What can you iterate today?

Plant a seed for science and tech

Cruising around the web last weekend looking for geosciencey Christmas presents, coupled with having 3 kids (aged 9, 5, and 3) to entertain and educate, I just realized I have a long list of awesome toys to share. Well, I say toys, but these amazing things are almost in a class of their own...

Bigshot camera

A full kit for a child to build his or her own camera, and it's only $89. Probably best suited to those aged 7 up to about 12. Features:

  • comes with everything you need, including a screwdriver,
  • a crank instead of a battery,
  • multiple lenses including anaglyphic 3D,
  • a set of online tutorials about the components and how they work — enlightening!


Epic. For kids (and others) that aren't quite ready for a soldering iron, these magentic blocks just work. There are blocks for power, for input (like this pressure sensor), and for output. They can, and should, be combined with each other and anything else (Lego, Meccano, straws, dinosaurs) for maximum effect. Wonderful.

Anything at all from SparkFun

... and there's Adafruit too. I know we had Tandy or RadioShack or whatever in the early 1980s, but we didn't have the Internet. So life was, you know, hard. No longer. Everything at SparkFun is affordable, well-designed, well-documented, and—well—fun. I mean, who wouldn't want to build their own Simon Says

And this is just a fraction of what's out there... Lego MINDSTORMS for the bigger kids, GoldieBlox for smaller kids, Raspberry Pi for the teens. I get very excited when I think about what this means for the future of invention, creativity, and applied science. 

Even more exciting, it's us grown-ups that get to help them explore all this fun. Where will you start?

Back to school

My children go back to school this week. One daughter is going into Grade 4, another is starting kindergarten, and my son is starting pre-school at the local Steiner school. Exciting times.

I go all misty-eyed at this time of year. I absolutely loved school. Mostly the learning part. I realize now there are lots of things I was never taught (anything to do with computers, anything to do with innovation or entrepreneurship, anything to do with blogging), but what we did cover, I loved. I'm not even sure it's learning I like so much — my retention of facts and even concepts is actually quite bad — it's the process of studying.

Lifelong learning

Naturally, the idea of studying now, as a grown-up and professional, appeals to me. But I stopped tracking courses I've taken years ago, and actually now have stopped doing them, because most of them are not very good. I've found many successful (that is, long running) industry courses to be disappointingly bad — long-running course often seems to mean getting a tired instructor and dated materials for your $500 per day. (Sure, you said the course was good when you sis the assessment, but what did you think a week later? A month, a year later? If you even remember it.) I imagine it's all part of the 'grumpy old man' phase I seem to have reached when I hit 40.

But I am grumpy no longer! Because awesome courses are back...

So many courses

Last year Evan and I took three high quality, and completely free, massive online open courses, or MOOCs:

There aren't a lot of courses out there for earth scientists yet. If you're looking for something specific, RedHoop is a good way to scan everything at once.

The future

These are the gold rush days, the exciting claim-staking pioneer days, of massive online open courses. Some trends:

There are new and profound opportunities here for everyone from high school students to postgraduates, and from young professionals to new retirees. Whether you're into teaching, or learning, or both, I recommend trying a MOOC or two, and asking yourself what the future of education and training looks like in your world.

The questions is, what will you try first? Is there a dream course you're looking for?

Two ways for Q&A

If you have ever tried to figure something out on your own, you will know that it is a lot harder than doing something that you already know. It is hard because it is new to you. But just because it is new to you, doesn't mean that it is new to everyone else. And now, in a time when it is easier than ever to connect with everyone online, a new kind of scarcity is emerging. Helpfulness.

How not to get an answer to your question

For better or for worse, I follow more than a dozen discussion groups on LinkedIn. Why? I believe that candid discussions are important and enriching, so I sign up eagerly for the action. Signing up to a discussion group is like showing up at a cocktail party. Maybe you will get noticed alongside other people and brands worth noticing. There is hoopla, and echoing, but I don't think there is any real value being created for the members. If anything, it's a constant distraction you put up with to hedge against the fomo

Click to enlargeYet, hoards of users flock to these groups with questions that are clearly more appropriate for technical hot-lines, or at least an honest attempt at reading the manual. Users helping users is a great way to foster brand loyalty, but not if the technical help desk failed them first. On LinkedIn, even on the rare case a question is sufficiently articulated, users can't upload a screen shot or share a snippet of code. Often times I think people are just fishing (not phishing mind you) and haven't put in enough ground work to deserve the attention of helpers.

What is in it for me?

Stack Overflow is a 'language-independent' question and answer site for programmers. If it is not the first place I land on with a google search, it is consistently the place from which I bounce back to the terminal with my answer. Also, nearly everything that I know about open-source GIS has come from other people taking part in Q&A on GIS Stack Exchange. The reason Stack Exchange works is because there is value and incentive for each of the three types of people that show up. Something for the asker, something for answerer, something for the searcher.

It is easy to see what is in it for the asker. They have got a problem, and they are looking for help. Similarly, it's easy to see what is in it for the searcher. They might find something they are looking for, without even having to ask. But what is in it for the answerer? There is no payment, there is no credit, at least not of the monetary kind. The answerer gets practice being helpful. They willingly put themselves into other people's business to put themselves to the test. How awesome is that? The site, in turn helps the helpers by ensuring the questions contain just enough context to garner meaningful answers.

Imagine if applied geoscientists could incorporate a little more of that.

Journalists are scientists

Tim Radford. Image: Stevyn Colgan.On Thursday I visited The Guardian’s beautiful offices in King’s Cross for one of their Masterclass sessions. Many of them have sold out, but Tim Radford’s science writing evening did so in hours, and the hundred-or-so budding writers present were palpably excited to be there. The newspaper is one of the most progressive news outlets in the world, and boasts many venerable alumni (John Maddox and John Durant among them). It was a pleasure just to wander around the building with a glass of wine, with some of London’s most eloquent nerds.

Radford is not a trained scientist, but a pure journalist. He left school at 16, idolized Dylan Thomas, joined a paper, wrote like hell, and sat on almost every desk before mostly retiring from The Guardian in 2005. He has won four awards from the Association of British Science Writers. More people read any one of his science articles on a random Tuesday morning over breakfast than will ever read anything I ever write. Tim Radford is, according to Ed Yong, the Yoda of science writers.

Within about 30 minutes it became clear what it means to be a skilled writer: Radford’s real craft is story-telling. He is completely at home addressing a crowd of scientists — he knows how to hold a mirror up to the geeks and reflect the fun, fascinating, world-changing awesomeness back at them. “It’s a terrible mistake to think that because you know about a subject you are equipped to write about it,” he told us, getting at how hard it is to see something from within. It might be easier to write creatively, and with due wonder, about fields outside our own.

Some in the audience weren’t content with being entertained by Radford, watching him in action as it were, preferring instead to dwell on controversy. He mostly swatted them aside, perfectly pleasantly, but one thing he was having none of was the supposed divide between scientists and journalists. Indeed, Radford asserted that journalists and scientists do basically the same thing: imagine a story (hypothesis), ask questions (do experiments), form a coherent story (theory) from the results, and publish. Journalists are scientists. Kind of.

I loved Radford's committed and unapologetic pragmatism, presumably the result of several decades of deadlines. “You don’t have to be ever so clever, you just have to be ever so quick,” and as a sort of corollary: “You can’t be perfectly right, but you must be mostly right.” One questioner accused journalists of sensationalising science (yawn). “Of course we do!” he said — because he wants his story in the paper, and he wants people to read it. Specifically, he wants people who don’t read science stories to read it. After all, writing for other people is all about giving them a sensation of one kind or another.

I got so much out of the 3 hours I could write at least another 2000 words, but I won’t. The evening was so popular that the paper decided to record the event and experiment with a pay-per-view video, so you can get all the goodness yourself. If you want more Radford wisdom, his Manifesto for the simple scribe is a must-read for anyone who writes.

Tim Radford's most recent book, The Address Book: Our Place in the Scheme of Things, came out in spring 2011.

The photograph of Tim Radford, at The World's Most Improbable Event on 30 September, is copyright of Stevyn Colgan, and used with his gracious permission. You should read his blog, Colganology. The photograph of King's Place, the Guardian's office building, is by flickr user Davide Simonetti, licensed CC-BY-NC.

Turning students into maniacs

In Matt's previous post, he urged people to subscribe to Jimmy Wales' vision of expanding collective intelligence. And it got me thinking about why the numbers aren't as high as they could be (should be), and why they might be dropping. Here are a few excuses that I have plucked from the university-student mindset and I submit them as a micro-model of this problem. And let's face it, we are all students, in a loose sense of the word.


  • I don't know where to start: Students, those most adequately positioned to give back to the knowledge base of which they are at the forefront, don't know where to start. Looking out towards the vast sea of what already exists, it is hard to imagine what is missing. Walking up to a blank page, pen in hand, is way harder than being handed an outline, a rough sketch that needs some filling in and filling out. 
  • I didn't sign up to be a volunteer: Being a student has always been, and always will be, a selfish endeavour. To do anything outside what is expected is essentially volunteering. Most students, don't see it as their job, their problem, or haven't yet learned the benefits and advantages it brings.
  • Someone else is better than me: Sounds timid and insecure, which I suppose may require some creative coaxing. Surely, there is probably somebody else out there more suited to draw seismic polarity cartoons than I, but volunteers don't wait for someone else to volunteer, if that were the case, there would be no volunteering at all. 
  • Institutions stomped out my collabortive spirit: It might not be spoken this way, but the student has a number of forces acting against the survival of their natural collaborative and creative tendencies. You'd think they would be the first to "get it", but the student mindset (bright, ambitious, curious, tech-savvy, etc) has been ratcheted into one of discipline and conformance to the academic status quo. One filled with traditional notions of text books, unaffordable publication subscriptions, bureacratic funding and research processes.
  • Peer review is better than the commons: Students are not allowed to use Wikipedia in their research. Instead, it is reinforced that a handful of expert editors set the standards of academic diligence, which is supposedly superior to thousands of editors in the fray of the wiki. I say we place too much confidence in too few peer reviewers. Sure wikis have trust issues, but that may be deservedly detrimental to those who are too credulous. Has anyone been massively led astray by incorrect or sabotaged Wikipedia content? I doubt it.

Making maniacs

Of these excuses, all of them but the first have to do with the culture of traditional learning. But for the first, for people who want to get involved but really don't know how, maybe all they need is to be handed a few stubs. Give me a stub! Imagine a questionaire or widget that takes a user profile, and quasi-intelligently suggests sparse pages in need of work. This stub needs chippers, and you fit the profile. Like a dating site that matches you not with another person, but with gaps in the content web.

It occurs to me that the notion of studentship will transform—for those who want it. For some it will be a choice, and a privilege, to act less like a student, and more like a maniac.