Developing technology is the primary way we’re advancing toward the future, and yet in 2010, only 18.2% of American undergraduates studying computer science were women. To work in technology is to innovate, and innovation benefits from a diversity of minds, which often comes from a group of people who don’t look alike.

So where are the women? Maria Klawe has an answer.

The president of Harvey Mudd College, Dr. Klawe has helped transform the way computer science is reaching students. She was recently profiled in a New York Times story that examined how Harvey Mudd’s intro computer science class has been made-over to appeal to more learners:

Known as CS 5, the course focused on hard-core programming, appealing to a particular kind of student — young men, already seasoned programmers, who dominated the class. This only reinforced the women’s sense that computer science was for geeky know-it-alls.

“Most of the female students were unwilling to go on in computer science because of the stereotypes they had grown up with,” said Zachary Dodds, a computer scientist at Mudd. “We realized we were helping perpetuate that by teaching such a standard course.”

To reduce the intimidation factor, the course was divided into two sections — “gold,” for those with no prior experience, and “black” for everyone else. Java, a notoriously opaque programming language, was replaced by a more accessible language called Python. And the focus of the course changed [from] computational approaches to solving problems across science.

“We realized that we needed to show students computer science is not all about programming,” said Ran Libeskind-Hadas, chairman of the department. “It has intellectual depth and connections to other disciplines.”

See how inclusion is done? To embrace those who’ve traditionally been left out, it takes self-reflection, broad thinking, and action. 

Harvey Mudd isn’t the only college to revamp its curriculum:

The University of California, Berkeley, and a few other universities have also redesigned their computer science courses to be less intimidating. The Berkeley course aimed at nonmajors is called “The Beauty and Joy of Computing.”

OK, that title is pretty patronizing, true?

Which alludes to the pain that we inflict on one another when we promote narrow ideas like “nerdly White and Asian men are meant for computer science,” messages that have intimidated Dr. Klawe. As a mathematician and computer scientist, she’s felt like an imposter sometimes. Jennifer Tour Chayes, a friend of hers at Microsoft, explained:

“Women are often [doubted], and then they take the impostor syndrome as their inner voice, as proof they shouldn’t go on,” she said. “What they need to know is that women like Maria also had that inner voice, and luckily they went on, and look how they’re doing.”

So what do we learn from these dynamics? The story concludes:

In spite of unequivocal evidence to the contrary, Dr. Klawe still has moments when she is convinced she is an impostor.

“If you’re constantly pushing yourself, and putting yourself in new environments, you’ll feel it over and over again,” she said. “So the only really important thing is not to let it stop you.”

Lesson learned: uncover what we want for ourselves, then pursue it actively, being mindful to ignore discouraging messages along the way.

One preeminent computer scientist who has let little stop her is Dr. Ayanna Howard, associate professor at Georgia Institute of Technology, and pioneer of the “SnoMote,” an autonomous probe for research in icy climates.  Having been awarded the distinction of “MIT Technology Review Top 100 Young Innovator of the Year,” her achievements have just begun.

When we open figurative doors for others, the world becomes a better place.

Now let’s dance. Madonna, Queen of Not Stopping, sings about natural progress in Jean-Baptiste Mondino’s hot video for “Don’t Tell Me.” Watch and listen:

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This happens every time we interact with a medical professional, or with anyone. Because whether we realize it or not, each one of us is guided by that dreaded f-word, our feelings.

In fact, Danielle Ofri, associate professor at NYU School of Medicine, recently shed light on how doctors’ natural feelings continue to influence their work.

We flipped when we first read it! Check out what Dr. Ofri says:

By now, even the most hard-core, old-school doctors recognize that emotions are present in medicine at every level, but the consideration of them rarely makes it into medical school curriculums, let alone professional charters. Typically, feelings are lumped into the catch-all of stress or fatigue, with the unspoken assumption that with enough gumption these irritants can be corralled.

Boo, hiss! Looking at emotions as “irritants [that] can be corralled” is very 2011. So out with the old wisdom; Ofri goes on with the new:

The emotional layers in medicine, however, are far more pervasive. Emotions have been described by the neuroscientist Antonio Damasio as the “continuous musical line of our minds, the unstoppable humming …” This basso continuo thrums along, modulating doctors’ actions and perceptions, while we make a steady stream of conscious medical decisions that have direct consequences for our patients. Emotions can overshadow clinical algorithms, quality control measures, even medical experience. We may never fully master them, but we must at least be conscious of them and of how they can sometimes dominate the symphony of our actions.

Ofri then describes how she helps her team work with their feelings, not against them:

Today, at least, when my medical team faces the prospect of giving bad news or admitting a medical error, I try to help my students and interns pay attention to the basso continuo running underneath. I try to point out when our emotions might be impeding us, and when, as sometimes happens, they might be assisting us in caring for our patients. Doctors can’t — and shouldn’t — eradicate the emotions that grease the wheels of patient care. But being alert to them can help us minimize where we fall short, and maximize where we succeed.

One more time, consciously using our emotions on the job can maximize our success.

We’ll take that as the doctor’s orders.

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In candid prose he detailed his experience on the first night of the tour, a real disaster:

I stride manfully to my drums. Andy has started the opening guitar riff to MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE and the crowd is going nuts. Problem is, I missed hearing him start. Is he on the first time around or the second? I look over at Sting and he’s not much help, his cue is me – and I’m lost. Never mind. “Crack!” on the snare and I’m in, so Sting starts singing. Problem is, he heard my crack as two in the bar, but it was actually four – so we are half a bar out of sync with each other.

Sounds rough! Yet Copeland confidently continues with his criticism of that night’s performance, saying “there is just something wrong. We just can’t get on the good foot. We shamble through the song.” Ultimately he ends with what happened backstage after the main set:

We fall into each other’s arms laughing hysterically. Above our heads, the crowd is making so much noise that we can’t talk. We just shake our heads ruefully and head back up the stairs to the stage. Funny thing is, we are enjoying ourselves anyway. Screw it, it’s only music. What are you gonna do?

His laissez-faire attitude seems refreshing, yet it belies a big truth: he cares so much about his craft, he knows that opening up about the group’s foibles will attract attention, and paying customers. In fact, the Police Reunion Tour of 2007-2008 is currently listed at #6 among the highest-grossing tours ever, having raked in a total of $358 million.

So Stewart Copeland is right. Go to work, reveal your whole self — faults and all — then watch your productivity, and your income, rise.

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(Older White man walks into subway car and stands near a seated younger White woman, who soon recognizes him.)

Woman: Hello, Mr. Baxter. Er, good morning.

Man: You can call me John when we’re not in the office.

(Pause)

Where are you headed?

Woman: I’m going to Queens today.

(They remain silent for the next 10 minutes.)

Man: (Exiting the train) Good-bye.

For what we’re about to say, it’s true we could benefit from having more context, like where these two work and their formal roles there. Still, we have enough data to form an impression that feels plausible.

The two commuters were clearly American in dress, accent, and non-verbal behavior, such as making direct eye-contact when communicating. So why didn’t their conversation correspond with the American cultural value of informality when greeting someone by name?

Sure, using a salutation and last name–Mr. Gomez, Ms. Park–to refer to someone is a gesture of respect. Yet when its usage is mandated in an American organization, by definition, it’s forced. Isn’t respect supposed to be earned?

Another persistent question: What purpose does the alluded-to formality in the office serve?

Requiring the use of formal names for executives may be an attempt to outline the organization’s hierarchy. Which would be a terribly misdirected endeavor. Hierarchies work best when they’re established more organically, like when members are granted varying amounts of responsibility and resources. This way, people with seniority necessarily have more authority than junior folks, in effect yielding a hierarchical structure.

The forced formality poses three (3) further problems. It:

1. Creates a 2-class system. Everyone in the organization must fall into one of two categories: 1.  Your colleagues use your last name when referencing you, or 2.  They use only your first name. This divisiveness makes building relationships more difficult, evidenced by the prolonged silence between the two coworkers riding the train, right?
2. Displaces other workplace practices. Developing staff and fostering teamwork–truly productive endeavors–get short shrift over the emphasis of showing respect. When an organization’s culture is contrary to the larger society’s, it requires maintenance, which can come at the cost of nurturing other worthwhile priorities.
3. Wastes employees’ energy. Individuals dedicate themselves to adhering to this custom versus really engaging in work tasks, which often include demonstrating initiative and innovating, typical boons to the bottom line.

Ultimately, forcing the use of “Mr. Baxter” at work is akin to demanding the use of masks; people easily hide behind the disguise, relinquishing their full selves. As a result, individuals suffer, as does the organization as it plants the hurdles to collaboration and invention.

To be the same person inside and outside the office is to be an integrated, whole person.

So a word to John: forget the formalities, and strive to connect with your colleagues more authentically. As a bonus you’ll notice a marked improvement in your commute.

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In “The Upside of Dyslexia,” an opinion piece recently published in the New York Times, writer Annie Murphy Paul outlines the ways that dyslexia confers advantages on workers, especially those related to the arts and sciences. She writes:

People with dyslexia possess distinctive perceptual abilities. For example, scientists have produced a growing body of evidence that people with the condition have sharper peripheral vision than others.

How does this work? Paul explains:

The brain separately processes information that streams from the central and the peripheral areas of the visual field. Moreover, these capacities appear to trade off: if you’re adept at focusing on details located in the center of the visual field, which is key to reading, you’re likely to be less proficient at recognizing features and patterns in the broad regions of the periphery.

The opposite is also the case. People with dyslexia, who have a bias in favor of the visual periphery, can rapidly take in a scene as a whole — what researchers call absorbing the “visual gist.”

If you’re dyslexic, yes, focused reading can be hard. Yet perceiving data on the periphery of your view comes naturally.

Indeed, whole research centers have been founded to study the positive attributes of dyslexia. Consider the recent creation of the Yale Center for Dyslexia and Creativity, as well as the Laboratory for Visual Learning within the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics.

So the evidence continues to add up: dyslexia is less of a disability, and more of a different style of taking in information.  If you struggle with reading, knowing the current discoveries about dyslexia can help you find words to describe the strengths you possess along with your struggles.

And if you don’t experience what was once known as “word blindness,” you might seek the help of your dyslexic peers at work.

Especially if you’re striving to see the whole picture.

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While writing the “headline” on her LinkedIn profile, meaning the space directly under her name, a participant asked if it’s OK to write “Private Equity Information Specialist and Dancer.”

You see, she’s a client of Career Transitions for Dancers, an organization that helps dancers take their first steps toward second careers, because the physical tolls of dancing make it practically impossible to be a lifetime professional dancer.

So how did we respond? We offered that her inquiry really felt like the question “Is it OK to be who I am?” The answer to which would be “Yes, it is. Always.”

A fantastic thing about LinkedIn is the expectation that you’ll have only one profile, because you’re only one person. Also, you’ll synthesize your complicated background into a single headline, and then outline it within the various sections of Summary, Experience, and Education. Creating a profile on the “professional” social network becomes an exercise in identifying the breadth of your achievements and interests, organizing your story, and then revealing yourself in a coherent framework.

We call this “virtual workplace nudity.”

Watch how things unfolded, starting at 6:00, below:

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In discussing how basketball star Jeremy Lin almost didn’t get signed to the N.B.A., James Surowiecki at the New Yorker recently unearthed broader truths about how we work with attractive people.

The implications aren’t pretty.

The problems relate to what we do with others’ physical looks. On Lin, Surowiecki concludes:

As a reedy Asian-American (from Harvard, no less), Lin simply didn’t fit anyone’s image of an N.B.A. point guard.

Because many coaches harbor pre-conceived notions of what a star basketball player looks like, they initially overlooked — and missed out on — Lin. Meanwhile, Lin’s agent Roger Montgomery is having the last laugh.

The New Yorker staff writer expounds on the subject:

In the U.S., [economist Daniel Hamermesh] finds, better-looking men earn four per cent more than average-looking men of similar education and experience, and uglier men earn thirteen per cent less.

Whoa, right? It gets worse.

Height, too, affects how people do in the work force. Taller people get paid more, on average, and have a better chance of getting hired and of ending up in management positions.

You’ll probably find supporting evidence if you look around, true? To be sure, all of us have a certain height, and shades of good looks. Some just have more than others.

If you identify as having ample amounts of either, does it mean your achievements are based more on your looks than on your abilities? Surowiecki reports on the research:

Studies suggest that better-looking people are more confident, on average, which in some circumstances could translate into better performance.

Yet get this: the core problem lies within all of us. From Surowiecki’s article:

We tend to associate good looks with unassociated virtues. We assume that good-looking people are smarter and more effective than they really are, and that homely people are the reverse.

Could this be true? To determine for yourself, answer the following questions.

Do you:

1. Nod in support at meetings whenever the looker sitting across the table says something, whether or not you agree?
2. Overtly–or covertly–expect the tall upstart to become a manager?
3. Give the cutie down the hall the benefit of the doubt when it comes to shoddy output?
4. Readily direct your attention to that gorgeous teammate?
5. Allow the hot number downstairs to take credit when it’s not due?

If you answered yes to any of these questions–as most of us will–you’re complicit in these dynamics. Shame on everybody right now!

Yet you’re not totally to blame. Many of us are socialized to prize those with physical gifts. And it’s natural to seek the peripheral benefits of associating with someone good looking, such as finding your way into the “in group” at work.

Which supports the need for more workplace nudity, or revealing and engaging our whole selves at work. The more we leverage our full selves on the job, the more mindful we can be when relating to colleagues. This way we might sense when we’re connecting with coworkers’ physical attributes moreso than what’s inside, including their competence.

So the conclusion is obvious: always read Workplace Nudity.

You’ll learn how to access the full spectrum of your wherewithal at work, and as a result, you’ll reveal your own beauty.

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