Category: Clark College

AI Tokens and the Value of Thinking First

From the Professor’s Files:

This week, during one of my coding classes, an unexpected lesson in financial responsibility took place. Students were happily using Copilot in Visual Studio Code to assist them with their programming questions until their tokens suddenly ran out.

RUT ROH!

Suddenly, the class conversation shifted from “Prompt the AI again” to “Maybe I should think about this for a minute.” Not even their rubber ducks could help them solve this situation.

Budget your resources, ask better questions, and take the time to think. It turns out that learning to code and learning to manage money have something in common.

Lesson learned: sometimes the best teacher in the room is a token limit.
AI Tokens and the Value of Thinking First

A Conversation in the Men’s Room at Clark College

After my walk from the college to the nearby Starbucks, I stopped by the men’s room and ran into a culinary student I didn’t know.

I asked him how his day was going, and he told me it wasn’t going so well. I asked why, and he explained a challenge he was facing with learning a specific baking technique. I could tell it was really weighing on him.

He mentioned that the college was teaching it differently from how he had learned it on YouTube, and he was struggling mentally. I could tell.

I then introduced myself, shared what I teach at the college, and told him a story I often share with my students.

Before attending Stevens Institute of Technology, I took a summer course on the Fortran programming language. I told him how much I struggled and how the course brought me to tears. So much so that I didn’t want to attend college in the fall. I did wind up passing the course with a passing grade.

I also reminded him that I now teach what I once struggled with and how much joy it brings me now. I think I made his day, and I plan to check in with him tomorrow.

He thanked me for sharing my story, and I saw him break into a big smile.

Caring Goes a Long Way

This morning, I sent this out to students in my courses:

Hello one and all,

Let me tell you something that makes a bigger difference than most people realize: caring matters.

When you care about your work, your classmates, and your instructor, it shows. It shows in the way you write code, how you communicate, how you follow through, and how you respond when things do not go your way. Believe me, people can feel it.

Caring is not about trying to impress anyone; it’s about being genuine. It is about respect. It is about saying, “I value this class, the people in it, and the time we are all putting into it.” You can show care in simple ways that carry a great deal of weight. Come to Student Hours. Send a message in Canvas or Slack when you need help. Please let me know if anything is unclear or if you encounter any difficulties. Those small things tell me you care, and they make it much easier for me to show up for you.

When I see students who take extra time to ask a question, share an idea, or put in real effort, I notice it every time. You do not have to be perfect. You do not even have to know what you are doing half the time. What matters is that you care enough to try, to learn, and to connect.

The truth is, caring is contagious. When you care, others start to care too. That is how a class turns into a community.

Let us keep that energy going. It makes this whole thing worth it.

Bruce 🍕🦆

Understanding AI in an Evolving World

I’m honored to have been featured by Clark College in their article, Understanding AI in an Evolving World, a profile of my recent Penguin Talk: Everyday AI titled “Understanding its Role in Our Evolving World.”

In the piece, I reflect on how AI has quietly established itself in our daily lives, including my own morning routine. Yet, far more importantly, I raise the deeper question: modern AI systems are astonishing at pattern recognition and prediction, but what does it mean to know something today? I asked, “What does it mean to know something in 2025?”

I remain committed to helping students do more than just use AI. It’s not enough to hand over the facts. We must guide them toward understanding the story behind the facts, the reasoning behind tools, and the ethics behind technology. In my classes, I emphasize that AI is not neutral. It mirrors the choices and incentives of its creators; it may “know what’s right” but not why it’s right.

One concrete approach I’ve shared: an AI-driven version of the old rubber duck debugging trick. Students explain their thinking step by step, now supplemented by an AI “duck” that doesn’t give answers but provokes thought. It’s about building reasoning, not shortcutting it.

If you’re curious about how AI influences education, ethics, or simply how we live and work, I invite you to read the full article over at Clark College, reflect on the questions raised, and decide where you stand. The future won’t wait.

Here’s my slide deck >

Bringing it Back to the Classroom

Today, my classes, which usually meet on Zoom, gathered in person. And wow, what a difference. You can read the room in ways you simply can’t through a screen. You see confusion, curiosity, lightbulbs flicking on, and you can adjust right there in real time. When students are right in front of you, you can sense when something isn’t clicking and pivot immediately. That kind of feedback loop makes teaching feel alive again.

After today, I’m convinced. Starting this winter, I’ll be bringing my courses back to being fully in person. I’ll still have a few online sections, but not many. My goal is to get them all back to the classroom eventually. There’s an energy and rhythm that come from being together that technology can’t replicate.

Because it was our first in-person class in a while, I handed out rubber ducks to each student. They’re part of how I teach coding, a symbol of debugging, reflection, and patience. Watching students line them up on their laptops made me grin. It reminded me that learning works best when it’s hands-on, a little playful, and shared with others.

To top it off, my morning class enjoyed cookies, pumpkin loaf, and scones from the Clark College bakery. For a moment, the room felt like a true community again, warm, curious, and connected.

There’s also an honesty to being in a physical classroom. You can’t hide behind AI or a screen. You have to show up, think on your feet, and engage. That’s where the real learning happens. And yes, I’m still an AI proponent. My students use it, and I teach them how to use it responsibly. However, AI doesn’t replace the value of showing up, questioning ideas, or learning face-to-face.

Technology has its place, but the best learning still happens when we share the same energy, the same attention, and the same spark that only real presence can create.

After five hours of what can only be described as interactive educational theater, I’m wiped. But in the best possible way.

Fellow educators, have you experienced this difference as well?

Helpful web browser extensions for Clark College students and staff

Clark College Student Success Resources Extension

The resources in this extension can help you navigate to the most common places on the website you may need at Clark.

Clark College Events Extension

Discover what’s happening at Clark College with ease. The Clark College Events app brings you a real-time feed of important campus events, deadlines, and employee training opportunities — all in a clean, accessible format.

Clark College Web Development Extension

This extension provides Clark College Web Development students with valuable resources to support their coursework.

Tenure Made Me a Worse Professor (But I’m Taking It Back)

Today, May 24, marks my second anniversary of tenure. And I’ve got a confession. Tenure made me a worse professor.

Not worse in the “I don’t care anymore” sense. I still show up. I still teach my heart out. I still hand out pizza and rubber ducks, as if they were course materials. But something shifted during that long, grueling tenure process and hasn’t entirely returned.

The tenure process trains you to be careful. You learn to document everything, justify everything, and reflect on everything until your teaching feels more like a performance than a practice. You stop experimenting because experiments might not look great on paper. You stop taking risks because risks don’t always make for clean committee reports.

And if you’re not careful, you start teaching like someone is always watching. Because for a while, someone is.

That’s what happened to me. I slowly backed away from the version of myself who took bold swings and tried weird ideas. I started playing it safe, saying no to chaos and yes to control. I polished everything, trimmed the messy parts, and stopped leaning into the stuff that made my teaching mine.

But here’s the thing. I’m two years in now. I’ve got the stability. The security. The keys to the castle.

And I’m done playing small.

I want the pre-tenure Bruce back, who did things that made students laugh, think, and engage. The one who brought music into lessons. The one who asked, “What if?” instead of “Will this fit in my tenure binder?” The one who knew learning is supposed to be messy, unpredictable, and sometimes a little loud.

If tenure turned down your volume, I hear you. If it made you cautious, you’re not alone. But now that we’re here, we can choose how we show up again.

I’m choosing to take it back, one student, one duck, one slightly chaotic lesson at a time.

Let’s go.

Student Support Takes Time (And No, There’s Still No Pizza)

You wouldn’t walk into a restaurant 2 minutes before closing and expect a full-course meal, right?

So, why do some students show up for office hours two minutes before they end and expect a deep-dive code review, academic therapy session, and life coaching?

I get it. Life is busy, and sometimes the timing doesn’t work out. But just like a good meal (or a good slice of pizza), meaningful help takes time to prepare and serve.

If you need help, feel free to come in earlier. I’m literally doing this on the weekends, too. We can troubleshoot, brainstorm, or even debug your existential crisis. Rubber ducks and pizza references are optional. Office hours aren’t just for emergencies. They’re your reservation for success.

However, I want you to know that I will help you regardless of whether it’s late or last-minute. I’ve got your back.

And if my posted student hours don’t work for you, just let me know. We’ll find a time that does.