In the deep of winter, we need humor. We could probably use more of it as a matter of course in academe, but it seems rare. This issue offers two examples, both following (more or less) the popular Top Ten formula made a national institution by television comedian, David Letterman. Martin Siegel takes a wry, but not completely unserious look at a seldom mentioned subject at the college level—taking attendance. Robert Menges shares the uneasy comedy of faculty members in search of job security.

When I first moved to Wisconsin, I began to understand how badly we need humor, even dumb humor. In subzero weather with drifts of snow blocking the streets, closing the schools, and enforcing "family time" like a prison sentence, humor offers some desperately needed relief. I caught on to the need for humor quickly. It took me a bit longer to learn about activity. For the life of me, I could not understand why people here longed to stand on boards and slide down hills; why they couldn't wait to get out and romp around in the cold and snow. And then I stayed inside a few winters studying for prelims and writing a dissertation.

Inside, in the winter, you brood. It's not good. You read books. You think. You ponder life's meaning. But you can't move around much. You look at the same walls all day long and feel your mind go soggy with the sound of the humidifier. Mentally, you need a "change-up."

Joan Middendorf and Alan Kalish review the research on how our attention habitually lapses after about twenty minutes if we aren't given (or don't give ourselves) some varied stimuli. The implications of this research for effective teaching are clear and relatively easy to make use of, especially since Middendorf and Kalish provide over a dozen "change-up" activities to help faculty design more engaging presentations.

If we go to sleep, zone out, mentally hibernate in an unvaried winter of limited activity, we do something very similar when we get stuck in a rut or swept up in well-meaning but unexamined assumptions about what's good and bad, and what "ought" to work in teaching. In this issue, Stephen Brookfield, author of The Skillful Teacher and Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher, discusses the importance of continually examining our teaching practice and the assumptions underlying what we do. But that's a cold proposition: constantly throwing off the warm blankets of the familiar in the hope of finding some better warmth. "It's a dilemma that I will go to my grave without solving," Brookfield said to me. "You are stripping people away from a position of security without offering them an immediate benefit. You're asking them to volunteer for chaos."

In the next issue of The National Teaching and Learning Forum , Barbara Mossberg will explain how chaos may not be so bad after all. But in the meantime, Brookfield recommends avoiding solitary examinations of your teaching soul. Do it in community. Do it with someone you trust, at least a little.

Richard Stull reminds us that a very big world surrounds us, and most of it applies to most of what we do. At least that's the vision he has of teaching, a vision of "the new generalist," a teacher able to draw connections between music and baseball, between kinesiology and painting. He tells how he does it in class, and leaves readers with the address of a web site where they can view his multimedia lecture for themselves.

Finally, for those who want to get out mentally this winter, but who aren't yet websurfers, Reese McGee can come to you on video. He's a friendly colleague, someone you can trust who knows an awful lot about teaching large classes. A videotape from Purdue University can put you in community with McGee for some canny insights into one of teaching's biggest challenges. Stay warm.

James Rhem