I came across Conrad Glogowski’s edublog while searching for existing material on learning communities and Third Places (turns out we share a similar theoretical framework in this area), and have remained a fan because he regularly provides very concrete, useful details and artifacts of his approach to teaching usually reinforced with examples of student work.

In "Towards Reflective BlogTalk" he shares a useful practice, examples and a handout he’s developed (The Ripple Effect) to encourage students to engage with (and thus reinforce) the blogging environment in their classroom:

While not always unfamiliar or far out on the cutting edge, I also applaud educators sharing their "fundamentals." It’s amazing how often these philosophies and principles turn out to fulfill a critical need for readers. In that category I put Conrad’s first shot at his stages of Creating Learning Experiences:

Says Lanny Arvan:

If we think of direct democracy and the Borg as two distinct ways the collective might function, what determines the one from the other? If we think of teenagers, in particular, their desires to be well liked and hence to be part of the crowd, isn’t there a force that drives them to behave like the Borg? Might social networking a la Facebook be considered more an encourager of Borg-like behavior than of direct democracy? And likewise for Twitter and text messaging?

What of learning technologists in this regard? (Just about everyone I know in the profession is at least 30.) Does this direct democracy versus the Borg distinction make sense for them? Are they wary of any of these technologies because they might promote an undesirable view of the collective?

And what of faculty whom learning technologists might lobby to use some of these technologies? What will the selling point be – the kids are doing it so they need to also to keep the kids’ attention? Do we really expect that argument to work? Faculty want depth of argument from the students. If these technologies are associated with shallow, quick-hitter response, how should a sensible non-Luddite faculty member react to them?

I don’t know the answer to these questions. My concern here is not with the answers. It is that the profession doesn’t seem to be asking them. It seems to be blindly accepting. Part of that is in the spirit of experimentation with the technology. The experimentation per se is fine. But such experimentation can co-opt a critical perspective.

As far as I can tell, the spectre of the “blind acceptance of technology” is a fiction. I suspect the source of the fiction varies: for some, an appeal to this fiction is a way of setting themselves apart from a group. For others it appears to be borne of a systemic pessimism. Some simply don’t pay attention, assuming that promotion of particular technologies must be happening without thought or knowledge of their productivity and problems.

Whatever the case may be, while I am sure there are examples of blind acceptance of technology somewhere, they must be in a tiny minority of educators. There might be something like this going on at the administrative level in particular institutions, but in every case I have experienced it comes from a long-standing legacy of fiscal philosophy that has nothing to do with technology and everything to do with the material nature of good and products– and the lessened requirement for sustainability that is assumed to come with them.

I also find the intermingling of technological methods of communication and social practice in Lanny’s post– the assumption that technology must not be neutral– and the conflation of short thought with shallow thought troubling. I’m not advocating that more communication has to be better (this is part of my own position when it comes to connected learning and connectivism, where I explicitly believe that this is not the case, though for a different reason), only that this obligation to skepticism is a bit overwrought given that the alternative experiment is not only in place, but entrenched in our educational system.

I just assumed this kind of copyright evasion (breaking copyright law behind locked doors with the rationalization that “since it’s private it’s OK”) was common knowledge and practice. I know that it’s common enough to be a de-facto on-the-ground operating policy at many institutions that is tacitly overlooked by their administration.

There’s a reason it happens (and it’s not just cluelessness about alternatives or lack of effort, though both can play a part)– there’s just a lot of copyrighted material that is very difficult if not impossible to replace even with a lot of time and effort spent trying to do just that. Such things might have a fair amount of complementary material, but that’s not at issue. We can’t have it both ways, demanding flexibility and spontaneity and responsiveness to student direction and expect faculty to find alternatives to the clearest, most obvious, and most available resources available to them.

And I’m not even talking about times when the very particular media artifact is the topic of discussion!

As an educator (and technical supporter of educators), it is when facing this kind of copyright choice– break the law quietly or sacrifice something at great educational cost– that I most seriously wish for what so far seems impossible: complete transformation of copyright law. The problem is, I don’t believe it will happen. Which makes Creative Commons and other initiatives that bridge the chasm between commercial venture and reuse our best alternative for promoting healthy change. And not just for educational efforts… the need for shared cultural artifacts goes deeper and is more important than that.

One part of the podcast of Alan November’s “Using Technology for Building Learning Communities” presentation caught my attention because November highlighted an aspect of wiki educational practice that I hadn’t really consciously thought about before: the use of the history mechanism to extend the educational moment.

In describing a third-grade (!) Wikipedia project, November explained how for months after the students had gone on a field trip and documented a historical landmark, the teacher was still using the history to engage students in the project, asking them each time if the change was one that belonged in the article or not and editing as needed.

Of course this kind of evaluation is something that we expect will happen in wiki projects, but for some reason I’d never really thought about the potential utility of the length of engagement. Most writing projects, even as the result of collaboration and peer editing, are pretty much done when the document has been produced. In my own use of wikis I’ve focused student efforts after the main production on preservation (or creation of new articles) rather than growth and continued use of what they have already made. It’s obvious, I guess, that with living documents, the teachable moments extend beyond the usual frame… and sometimes beyond the bounds of the particular class or course itself. But I hadn’t really thought about it before.

Around the Corner - MGuhlin.net : From Trickle to Torrent:

While you and I may agree that pursuing our passions in school is a worthy goal, I’d bet a significant number of educators, parents, community members do not.

And just as importantly: many students do not. As I think about the new semester commencing in a few hours and what I hope to do better and differently, I am struck by how hard it is to convince students that I am serious when I tell them that I want them to work on all of the tasks in class with their own interests at heart. A large part of learning is about doing new and unfamiliar things, but those things are best done in the context of something they are passionate about. Something they love or hate or, if they are lucky, love and hate. It’s not about agreeing with me or choosing from some “safe” list of topics… and it definitely isn’t about pleasing me except in the sense that I derive my greatest pleasure when students discover their confident voice as a participating, recognized part of their own network of peers, fans, sympathizers and questioners.

And that’s just the first step… establishing a tiny bit of trust, a small sheltered place in an environment that generally (at best) pays only lip service to creativity and authentic personal participation. Then the work begins for student and teacher both, trying to cram years worth of what should have been taught but most often wasn’t, and unlearn years of doctrine that shouldn’t have been taught but were. It’s “All Summer in a Day”, the education version.

elearnspace: Do Generational Differences Matter in Instructional Design:

I think, in this instance, the consideration of varied design approaches has been tied to the wrong variable (generational differences). The greater area of change and impact is found in the habits, activities, and needs of learners (not based on generations, but on how technology creates new opportunities for learning networks far beyond the narrow domain of classroom walls).

Given my oblique defense of Prensky and his ilk, George might be surprised to find that I agree wholeheartedly with what he says here. I think there is a significant, and perhaps too convenient overlap, between the emerging group of 12-22 year olds and a particular set of habits in using– and inclinations/disinclinations toward various participatory web technologies (which is why the results of the recent UCL report, which I will comment on later, isn’t particularly surprising). Sometimes it makes sense to consider these, sometimes it doesn’t. But consideration is very different from “designing for.” And consideration is very different from treating any particular age group as a monolithic block. The idea of the “net generation” resonates because of this kind overlap… but I also know that being of the net generation doesn’t necessarily mean those definition fit– just as being older doesn’t mean one can’t effectively be characterized in all the same ways.

I look at this whole question much as I do the idea of designing for other particular cultures. There is no doubt in my mind that there are some characterizations that can be made about particular groups, such as Native Alaskans, and their approach to learning. In some contexts it makes sense to discuss technology and learning in this way. But 1) we have to realize that when we do it is just a shorthand, not a strict definition and 2) most of the time it is probably more efficient and productive to talk about much more important and delineated groups that overlap and are often mistaken for this one, most often those characterized by specific socio-economic status and/or access. Of course in this latter example, where race so often gets mixed in with the idea of culture, option #2 is generally just safer and less prone to diversion anyway.

Last week we had George Siemens, czar of Connectivism, on-site at the Center for Distance Education as our most recent visiting scholar.

Except for a disagreement about Marc Prensky (I think he’s a polemicist/provocateur/gadfly who deserves a tip of the hat in passing; I suspect George would happily put him in a head crusher) I found that most of what George presented to and discussed with us resonated with my evolving view of education, teaching and learning. That’s no surprise given that I’ve been talking about Connectivism and Connected Knowledge since their early days (this dialogue between George and Stephen Downes is another part of the puzzle, as are some of the conversations that took place during the online Connectivism Conference, such as this Challenge to Connectivism thread). If nothing else I knew it had to be a good thing for faculty and staff to hear some of these ideas from someone other than me!

Despite all that, and it being my suggestion that we try to bring George up, I was a bit skeptical. I’m naturally suspicious of all good ideas that are not my own, particularly when they come under the umbrella of a clever coinage, and George is a seemingly tireless presenter. Frankly, I was concerned that he might be more salesman and sophist than educator and theorist.

My concerns were for naught. I’m sympathetic to Bill Kerr’s continued questioning of Connectivism, particularly these three basic queries (as I would rank them in ascending order of importance):

1. is Connectivism really a learning theory
2. have the important parts of Connectivism already been covered (and possibly covered better) by earlier thinkers such as Papert and Vygotsky
3. does Connectivism misrepresent constructivism and other earlier pedagogical theories

But I’m not sure that resolving those questions matters as much to me as the productivity of Connectivism as a lens for examining and transforming educational practice. George made regular, accurate references to those that had come before (his ability to do so on the fly while making relevant points without just throwing citations around and name-dropping as some do was impressive) and I see what he is promoting as building upon– not throwing away– earlier theories. All I can do is continue my own investigations and if something dissonant comes up I’ll ask him about it.

Connectivism in practice is the key question. As I said, the theory/model resonates with me and fits with my experience not just as teacher, but also as a learner. The latter might even be more important. I see Connectivism as an essential part of a fabric that includes social networks, learning communities, information fluency, and Third Places. But what does it mean to a faculty member on the ground teaching class X to a diverse group of students? How specifically can they engage (or take into account) Connectivist theory? What will students be doing and how will they be assessed?

We’re working towards answers to these questions with individual course development efforts and it might be that generalized answers aren’t possible beyond those many of us are already promoting: educational conversation, collaboration, network resource building, etc. Educational blogging (the practice encapsulating micro-publishing, syndication, and subscription)– for learner and educator alike– is certainly a fundamental practice, a platform upon which we can share the answers we discover…

Phaedrus elaborates:

Design and Development - or Is it soup yet?
According to what I think I have learned about designing online courses and teaching in general, three types of interaction, student-student, student-teacher, and student-content, are the focal points for developing instruction.

There are actually two more — teacher-environment, and student-environment. We tend to ignore the environmental issues when dealing with the classroom based courses because we’re so famliar with them. Automaticity makes it seem invisible most of the time, but it’s obvious in the beginning of the year or when there have been changes in the building from semester to semester. People are wandering around lost and not knowing what’s going on. The environmental interactions online are more apparent when you move into environments that are not familiar — like a new school, or online. If the affordances of the environment are not the same as what you’re used to, then that interaction becomes visible — largely thru frustration.

It is interesting that we (or at least “I” and the way I interpret much of what I am reading) tend to either ignore the educational environment or reference it as a mere byproduct of the traditional triangle of interactions. The idea of the PLE is one that allows us to both explicitly address this important, overlooked area and bring at least some of it back into the realm of intentionality. Not control– or at least not only and not complete control– of the environment, and not just creating a learning environment, but facilitating the students’ creation of their own environments, a critical part of learning communities and a foundation of the new third places, etc.

Henry Jenkins recently posted an informal introduction to game studies with some great resources for people who are interested in learning more about the field. Those already interested might find something new there as well.

While you are there, the long series on “Gender and Fan Culture” (it sure would be nice if his blog had tags or categories) that has made up most of his recent output has some fascinating interviews. I can’t help but think that many of the attributes that characterize “fandom” are the same things we try to instill and hope to see in our students. If you look at the fan activities around a particular piece of popular media it looks a lot like a learning community, and the activities of those fans is an awful lot like collaborative, constructive learning and creation. This is just an embryonic thought that others have probably already written about.

A great (and humbling) aspect of blogging is that, quite often, if you don’t say it someone else will. Gary Stager’s criticism of Web 2.0 and education is well-intended and appears to grow organically from a sound seed, but it is mostly wrong. I don’t usually find hand-wringing about educators and technology that interesting because they so often conflate K-12 and higher education tech issues in all the wrong ways and because they miss the bigger picture. Dealing with firewalls, filters and privacy are quite different at a University than a high school. Laptop initiatives are often horribly bungled administratively and even wrong-headed to begin with, but that doesn’t have much to do with the value of computing technology for education. In this case, the Education 2.0 and Teaching 2.0 memes contain a great amount of diversity (and abstraction), trying to talk cogently about them as a monolith, much less equating them with educators using Web 2.0 tools is to go off the tracks.

Fortunately, Stephen Downes and a number of others have already said pretty much everything I would have and then some. I hope Stager follows up on his comment at OLDaily and addresses Stephen’s substantive post.