C I CANBLOG 2

I was in a meeting last week and the small group of us realized that we had a question that someone else outside of our group could answer.  The team leader suggested that he would email that individual after the meeting and let us know how he responded.  As our meeting was in the same building--in fact the same floor-- as the individual in question was housed, one of us suggested that perhaps the leader could just go knock on his door and ask while we were all there.   A stunned silence filled the room.  "I could," he replied.  And off he went.  We chuckled after he left about what the reaction of that individual might be when the knock came at his door.  If I were him, I probably would have been thinking "What the hell are you doing here? Answer a question? On the spot?  To your face? Are you kidding me?" 

As bizarre as that sounds, it is becoming more and more commonplace in meetings that I'm in to do exactly what happened in the scenario described above.  I believe we are becoming (if we're not already there) averse to face-to-face interaction, and developing the same attitude to voice-to-voice interaction as well, because of our reliance on email to communicate.   As a sample size of one, a quick comparison shows that in the last week, I received over 300 emails during the workweek, and about 60 phone calls during the same time period.  I imagine the ratio is similar to the number of emails I wrote vs. calls I placed.  It seems bad.  It seems like we are becoming too isolated at work.  But is it just that communication channels are morphing and this is just the result?  75 years ago, would someone have tracked similar stats for the increased number of telephone calls and decreased number of face-to-face visits in the workplace and proclaimed the death of communication in society? 

The rest of the story is that our fearless leader returned, having successfully cornered the individual, and secured a very non-answer to the question.  So, we ultimately were no farther along than we were before, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.   Oh, and that individual is apparently going to email us when he has more information. 

Just to have a laugh and sing a song;

Seems we just got started and before we know it,

Comes the time we have to say

So Long”

 

Those of my vintage (and maybe younger, thanks to Nick at Nite) may recognize this as the way the venerable Carol Burnett used to sign off her show every Saturday night on CBS.  As I was reflecting back on this course, these lyrics popped into my head and seemed appropriate to use for my final post.   

 

We’ve stroked a lot of keys during the last fifteen weeks writing about community—what makes one, what doesn’t, what maybe kind of does, etc.  And I think that it was during these and other discussions that we in 597 became part of an official community of practice.  And though part of me wants to say that some members of this community are more equal than others—because there are some who were way more engaged and productive than others both in their contributions in class as well as out., Wenger would say that “each participant in a community of practice finds a unique place and gains a unique identity, which is both further integrated and further defined in the course of engagement in practice. (75-76)”, which Lis wrote about in her “Are you Living?” post way back when.  I’m good with that.  So even though there were some in our class who did not sit at the table; some who skipped from time to time; some who went through an entire 3 hour session without saying a word,  the CI 597 community of practice is still theirs to call home. 

 

I truly enjoyed this experience, even though there were certainly times when my head throbbed both in class and out when I struggled to come to terms with a particular thread of discussion or reading.  597 has spawned a multitude of interests for me, and I think has really helped confirm for me the direction that I want the rest of my PhD studies to follow.  The fact that this could be done amid quick wit, friendly ribbing, and lots of Twittering is a major bonus.  I expect to never have a similar class experience, but hope that I do, and will strive to create it in courses that I lead in the future.   I have a feeling that communities of practice have a bit of a viral aspect to them.  Once one has been part of one, one might want to try to replicate them in other parts of life, whether academic, professional and personal. 

 

Thanks everyone for your contributions to my learning.  I hope I was able to do the same for you.  Good night! Insert virtual ear tug here. . .

Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us… In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain…”
ANDREW (vo): “…and an athlete…”
ALLISON (vo): “…and a basket case…”
CLAIRE (vo): “…a princess…”
BENDER (vo): “…and a criminal…”
BRIAN (vo): “Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.

 

Though it’s over (throat constricting) TWENTY years old, I think this closing speech from the Breakfast Club has a strong connection to our discussions about identity this semester. 

We have spoken at great length about identity over the last fifteen weeks.  Some believe that we have but one identity and choose to show different sides of it depending on the situation and who we’re sharing with.  Others believe we have discrete identities (work me, school me, family me, friend me, by myself me) but it could be argued that is the same thing as simply having different sides of one identity.  Fine.  However, I proposed in my “Identity is in the Eye of the Beholder” post that it really doesn’t matter how we define ourselves, because it’s everyone around us who really decides.   We lead very busy lives, and though it would be nice if everyone really took the time to know everyone else, more often than not, like Mr. Vernon above, a label is assigned pretty early on so as to allow for categorization and filing away, resulting in a “oh, so she’s one of those. . Got it.  Next!” types of thought processes.  

How society perceives us is dictated by not only our direct words and actions, but also by how behave when we’re just going about our business, i.e., (or is it e.g.?)  are we nice to the checker at the supermarket, do we throw litter in the parking lot, do we yell at our children in public, do we recycle, etc.   Our online identities, on the other hand, are man-made.  We have no online identity if we never go online.  How we present ourselves to the online community is of our own making.  As a result, it would seem natural that most people would want to promote themselves in the most positive way possible online.  Blog posts are thoughtfully written; tweets are witty and clever; podcasts are scripted or outlined.   So if I’m reading your blog, do I really have a sense of your identity?  Do you have a sense of my identity by reading mine?   I would argue that you know what I want you to know, and vice versa. 

We as educators have different views on what and how to share our identities with our students.  Some are all business:  no discussion or peek into life outside the classroom whatsoever.  Others err on the side of getting too personal.   Disruptive technology can aid in communicating a teacher’s identity, and allow him or her to learn more about students’ identities.   Perhaps if Mr.Vernon had been able to peruse the online musings of the Breakfast Club, he wouldn’t have had to ask them to write an essay on who they were.  And he might have shown a different side of himself if they were able to do the same.  But to think that would give a complete picture of the individual is unrealistic.  Only through putting all the pieces together—what we observe, what we read, what we experience when we interact, etc.—will any of us truly get a more complete & accurate sense of a person’s identity, and see that we are all a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.   Cue Simple Minds here . . .

At first blush, the design segment of the course seemed like it got the shaft.  We were asked to finish the Wenger segment on design, but didn’t have the opportunity to really debrief on it as a group in class as we had with community and identity.  We certainly had a field day talking in class about community, and identity has seen a great deal of action on the blog as well.  As another indication, “design” is also the smallest of the three main themes in the 597 Tag Cloud on Pligg.  Is it that the other two themes are more compelling?  Are the parents of these three themes having to listen to a whining Design in the den like this?   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-yZHveWFvqM

Upon further reflection on my blog posts, however, it’s clear that design has played a role throughout the content during the semester, even though we haven't necessarily labeled it as such.  

Throughout the semester, we have discussed design in terms of purpose and appearance of each of the tools that we reviewed.   With Twitter, for example, I discussed in this post about the fact that the design  of Twitter required me to think in very short & sweet phrases, and exercised my brain in a way that regular blogging and emailing did not.  I also wrote in  this post about Pea’s references to design way back in January when he wrote about the evolution of learning tools over time and how 2.0 tools will do the same. 

Believe it or not, I actually thought Wenger’s thoughts on design were the most palatable and practical parts of his book.  I agree with his statement that learning cannot be designed, and that teaching does not cause learning (p. 267).  It’s kind of like being the host of a dinner party.  You can plan the menu, arrange the seating and set the table, but you can’t orchestrate the outcome.  Things burn, wine spills, friendly differences of opinion turn into arguments, etc.   You do your best to anticipate what might be an impediment to a fun evening, but once the first doorbell rings, it’s pretty much out of your control.  The same is true to some degree with learning.  We as educators can do our best to plan, to utilize the tools and resources that we feel are the most appropriate for the level of education and experience, as well as the goals of the participants in our class, but countless other factors will play a role in whether or not we are successful.

 

I liked the piece on literacy--much easier to digest than Wenger.  Figure 1.1 is a very helpful comparison of 1.0 vs. 2.0, and would be a good place to start to explain it to someone new to the concept.  The research referenced on pg. 15 answers some of the questions that have been bubbling up among us, in reference to Twitter in particular.  Nice to see Lessig getting some play here, too.  I also appreciated her take on wikis, and wonder how Andrew Keen a.k.a President of the Hannah Arendt Fan Club, would respond to all of this. 

Wenger once again causes my head to throb as I attempt to decipher his thoughts.  And by decipher, I don't mean the traditional meaning of "decipher", I mean. . .  And by "attempt", I don't mean the traditional meaning of attempt, I mean . . .   And by "I", I don't mean the traditional meaning of "I", I mean . . .   Geez.  Why use the word when you mean something completely different instead of finding the word you actually mean?  I'm sure this will look like one big mess once it translates over to Pligg, but I hope my frustration translates.  

I have a few issues with his definition (surprise!) of belonging and community.  One page 181, he writes that "calling the viewers of a television program a community of practice, for instance, would be pushing the concept beyond its usefulness".   But what of the multitude of blogs and discussion boards devoted to dissecting each and every detail of "Lost" or "Battlestar Gallactica"?  Are they not a community of practice?  Read Washington Post columnist (and my former neighbor) Lisa DeMoraes' weekly discussion "On TV" on washingtonpost.com (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/discussion/2008/03/30/DI2008033001297.html) and you will see a definite community of practice of not only TV watchers, but of the live discussion itself, with their own inside jokes and pet names for the host.  If Wenger's distinction is they don't fit the definition of a community of practice because they're not all watching the show together in each other's company, what if they twittering about it from their respective living rooms as they were doing so?  Would it count then?  What about attendees of a movie?  Because they're all in the theater together, does that then fit the definition?  Yet I would not consider myself part of the "Go Diego Go" community of practice simply because I accompanied my 4-year-old to the show at the Bryce Jordan Center.  Does that matter how I identify myself?  Or as I suggested in a previous post, is it only how others define me, no matter how I might be privately identifying myself, that matters?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGCJ46vyR9o&NR=1

Okay, I'm sure that little riff on Twitter has probably been used a million times, but one of the main takeaways I got from the TLT Symposium was not from the content itself (though the content was really powerful) but was the use of Twitter during the day.   I got on board with Twitter probably about a month ago and found it to be an interesting way of connecting with my classmates outside of class hours.  As a writer, I find the activity of capturing my current activities in 140 characters or less to be a good brain exercise.  It is easier than e-mail to write and read.   Those of us in 597 who are in the Twitter group have shared not only interesting insights about class, but also provided glimpses into our personal lives as well.  Some have shared news of family deaths and illnesses, some have shared funny stories of pets or children, some have asked technical questions, some share what they had for dinner.  It varies, but the key is that it's all in 140 characters or less.  Having many of us "tweeting" during TLT was a grand experiment for me, in that it allowed me to be a fly on the wall on breakout sessions where I wasn't physically able to be, and allowed me to share my insights and comments with my classmates without having to be physically with them, or even lean over to whisper.  Or, on a less serious use, how else would I have been able to share during Lessig's keynote that I thought Sousa's "Infernal Machines" term would be a great name for a band?  How else would Becky and I have been able to have our wiki "stud2stud" exchange?    Which begs the question, is "virtual notepassing" an unintended consequence of Twitter? 

Several of us began wondering, via Twitter, during the sessions, whether all of this Twittering is distracting to, or impacting the presenters.  I do think it impacts, but is it just that presenters need to adjust their expectations and know and assume that their audience members are doing this?  Or should they demand complete attention?  One of us noted that there were many laptops open during a session, but few were Twittering; they were doing other things online.  My 597 group led the wiki discussion in class on 3/20 and it was my first experience facilitating a session where so many eyes of were on laptops, with fingers flying on keyboard.  It was a bit distracting to me, but I assumed that was what the class was doing, and I was proven correct when I read the Twitter "transcript" that took place during our presentation.  On the other hand, I teach Comm 471 (public relations media & methods) to undergrads and purposely schedule this to be held in a traditional classroom instead of a computer lab where most of the other 471 courses are held-- mainly because I don't want people straying into checking email, etc., during class.  Am I an old fogey for wanting to do this, and am I hindering their abilities to build community with one another in the same way our 597 class has done as a result?  Does the answer change depending on who is being taught?  Is it okay for "adults" like us to Twitter during class because we're generally just commenting on the content and building community, whereas younger students, like HS and undergrads, would likely be doing other things?   Is that generalization fair to them?  Also, with students' developing capacity to be able to be surreptitiously texting underneath a desk with eyes generally still up front, what then?    Should that bother me as an instructor?  The "instructor me" from pre-597 would have said absolutely.  The "instructor me" for post-597, I'm not so sure.    

Wenger's discussion on identity talks about how we're all the sum of our parts-- we have many different identities, depending on where we are, who we're with, what we've experienced, etc.   What if there's a big part of your identity that you're not even aware of?  Does it still contribute?  Who gets to decide one's identity? 

My sister works in retail, but she is also a Realtor.  If someone asks her what she does, she says she's a Realtor.  If someone sees her working at the mall, they have assigned her an identity of mall worker, whether she wants it or not.  I may think that I am an accomplished professional and that I produce good work in my job; I may even have the evaluations to prove it.  As a result, I have "accomplished professional" as part of my identity.  However, if I am a jerk to work with, or if my work is substandard and my boss is just conflict-averse and passes me along with "good" evaluations, and everyone at work knows this except me, is "accomplished professional" still part of my identity even if my co-workers would vehemently disagree? 

We talked in another post about ratemyprofessors.com.  There are probably many professors at Penn State who receive decent SRTEs and feel they have earned the identity of a great professor.  Some of that group may not even be aware of ratemprofessors.com.  If they are trashed in that environment, but they aren't aware of it, is "great professor" still part of their identity?  I realize this brings up a bit of a "if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?" head-hurter, but since this is Wenger we're talking about, it seemed appropriate to bring up.  

I don't know what it is about this blog that makes me keep coming up with references to ancient popular culture, but it is what it is. 

Anyway, here is my response to the "Teaching with Flickr" assignment.  In my role in management education, I would use this slideshow to tee-up a small group discussion exercise on workplace dynamics and leadership.  Perhaps with an overarching question as "What would be the advantages and disadvantages of the leadership styles exhibited by the "boss" in each of these workplace-focused TV programs?"  The set would be accompanied by a handout that describes the characters and the jist of the shows for those who are not familiar.  This could be supplemented with Youtube clips of the characters that demonstrate their behaviors. 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/24132892@N08/favorites/show/