Minh-Dan: April 2008 Archives
Sometimes something will just hit you in the face that you don't realize until a while later.
In reply to a comment (or several comments) I'd made on a post in Pligg, Lis addressed me as "mtt143." This has been one of the most annoying aspects of Pligg: Why are we identified by our Penn State IDs? In our own blogs, we can choose to display our names however we'd like. Most don't change the default FIRST MIDDLE LASTNAME format; some change it to First Lastname, F. Lastname, First M. Lastname, or some variation of it. We could use any of our online handles if we wished, but none of us choose to. But, at the least (and at the risk of sounding complex), in our own blogs we identify ourselves however we identify ourselves. We don't get this option in Pligg.
Is it odd that Pligg--the online version of our CI 597C classroom/community--chooses our identities (okay, labels) for us? Pligg forces us to relate blog posts to a jumble of letters and numbers instead of a name or a face. In our online community, I am mtt143; I'm not Minh-Dan, or even Minh, or that weird Asian girl who causes trouble in class. Just mtt143. I didn't even choose mtt143! I didn't choose this name, these initials, or the fact that I'm the 143rd mtt to get an email account at Penn State.
When reading posts in Pligg, I can look at other writers' IDs and put a name and a face to it. sck (hi Steve), eal (hi Betsy), dmd (hi Donna), ecs (hi Lis), rsw (hi, Becci), . . . . Maybe I'm blessed with a better memory than some, or maybe I just care to identify the author as a person I know rather than as an (seemingly) anonymous contributor to an online community. But, who's to say that same courtesy will be extended to me? Maybe people don't care that Minh wrote that horribly offensive comment. Just that mtt143 person, whoever that is.
I have a friend at Cornell who calls me mtt29 (that's two-nine) to my face. That's just funny, and it's okay, because he in the same breath will call me by my full name (full first, middle, last) name and also by my AIM screen name. And, that's okay. He knows who I am, and I get that. But again, that kind of familiarity is rare, especially now that we've been exposed to these (I believe) limiting Web 2.0 applications and environments. You can know all the details of a person's life, put that to a name and see a photo of a face, but who's really going through the effort of putting it all together? Most people probably won't bother.
Just mtt143.
In reply to a comment (or several comments) I'd made on a post in Pligg, Lis addressed me as "mtt143." This has been one of the most annoying aspects of Pligg: Why are we identified by our Penn State IDs? In our own blogs, we can choose to display our names however we'd like. Most don't change the default FIRST MIDDLE LASTNAME format; some change it to First Lastname, F. Lastname, First M. Lastname, or some variation of it. We could use any of our online handles if we wished, but none of us choose to. But, at the least (and at the risk of sounding complex), in our own blogs we identify ourselves however we identify ourselves. We don't get this option in Pligg.
Is it odd that Pligg--the online version of our CI 597C classroom/community--chooses our identities (okay, labels) for us? Pligg forces us to relate blog posts to a jumble of letters and numbers instead of a name or a face. In our online community, I am mtt143; I'm not Minh-Dan, or even Minh, or that weird Asian girl who causes trouble in class. Just mtt143. I didn't even choose mtt143! I didn't choose this name, these initials, or the fact that I'm the 143rd mtt to get an email account at Penn State.
When reading posts in Pligg, I can look at other writers' IDs and put a name and a face to it. sck (hi Steve), eal (hi Betsy), dmd (hi Donna), ecs (hi Lis), rsw (hi, Becci), . . . . Maybe I'm blessed with a better memory than some, or maybe I just care to identify the author as a person I know rather than as an (seemingly) anonymous contributor to an online community. But, who's to say that same courtesy will be extended to me? Maybe people don't care that Minh wrote that horribly offensive comment. Just that mtt143 person, whoever that is.
I have a friend at Cornell who calls me mtt29 (that's two-nine) to my face. That's just funny, and it's okay, because he in the same breath will call me by my full name (full first, middle, last) name and also by my AIM screen name. And, that's okay. He knows who I am, and I get that. But again, that kind of familiarity is rare, especially now that we've been exposed to these (I believe) limiting Web 2.0 applications and environments. You can know all the details of a person's life, put that to a name and see a photo of a face, but who's really going through the effort of putting it all together? Most people probably won't bother.
Just mtt143.
I'm a little out of practice with Wenger and unsure if I want to get back into that practice. Hmm. I'll kick myself out of the Wenger community of practice one day.
I want to make examples of Wenger's modes of belonging using ideas of a previous post; otherwise, I won't be able to make sense of whatever it is he's talking about with this whole "modes of belonging" idea. Also, I want to see if putting the words "MARCHING BAND" into a post will alert some commercial marching band website to try to trackback to this post multiple times. (Whoever you are, I want you to know I WILL REJECT YOUR REQUEST EVERY SINGLE TIME.)
So, Wenger's modes of belonging are engagement, imagination, and alignment.
As a clarinetist in a competitive high school marching band, I would feel "belonging" to multiple communities. I would be engaged in the practice of playing the clarinet with other clarinetists in the band. I would be engaged in the practice of marching band-ism (marching, playing, rehearsing, competing, etc.) with the other members of the band.
My imagination would allow me to "belong" (or not belong) to multiple communities. I could imagine other clarinetists in other high school marching bands, college marching bands, concert bands, jazz bands, orchestras, professional symphonies, etc.; I would belong to an arguably elite group of clarinetists worldwide, even if I've never met them or never heard of them before. I could imagine other high schools' marching bands; although we attend different schools, we (I would imagine) practice the same activities (marching, playing, rehearsing, competing, etc.). I could even imagine how other schools may have different practices: maybe they high-step instead of roll-step; maybe they only have a drum corps (no clarinets!); maybe they have bag pipes; maybe membership isn't voluntary (or by audition only). Imagining how others may be different may allow me to feel more belonging to my own community; imagining how others may be different may also allow me to feel belonging to multiple, similar-but-different communities.
Our high school marching band would try to align its practices to rules and practices of larger organizations. The band "belongs" to a particular school district, and because of this, we must choose our music and programs to appropriately represent the district (no nudity, no explicit language, proper conduct). The band also "belongs" to a bigger organization called the Tournament of Bands, which encompasses many districts in a variety of states; because of this, we must choose our music and programs to match given standards set by the TOB (for example, length of program), and we must practice and rehearse according to the TOB's standards (for example, using high school football field hash marks, not college football field hash marks; also, on an American 100-yard field as opposed to Canadia's 110-yard field; using proper roll-steps; making appropriate eye contact with the press box; memorizing music; etc.). Aligning to an outside organization's standards breeds a feeling of belonging to "something bigger." This also requires some imagination! And engagement!
See my previous post (about the Symposium) for thoughts on identity. (I beat Wenger to it.)
And to you, Mr./Ms. Commercial Marching Band Website Advertiser Person: Prepare to have your trackback rejected!
I want to make examples of Wenger's modes of belonging using ideas of a previous post; otherwise, I won't be able to make sense of whatever it is he's talking about with this whole "modes of belonging" idea. Also, I want to see if putting the words "MARCHING BAND" into a post will alert some commercial marching band website to try to trackback to this post multiple times. (Whoever you are, I want you to know I WILL REJECT YOUR REQUEST EVERY SINGLE TIME.)
So, Wenger's modes of belonging are engagement, imagination, and alignment.
As a clarinetist in a competitive high school marching band, I would feel "belonging" to multiple communities. I would be engaged in the practice of playing the clarinet with other clarinetists in the band. I would be engaged in the practice of marching band-ism (marching, playing, rehearsing, competing, etc.) with the other members of the band.
My imagination would allow me to "belong" (or not belong) to multiple communities. I could imagine other clarinetists in other high school marching bands, college marching bands, concert bands, jazz bands, orchestras, professional symphonies, etc.; I would belong to an arguably elite group of clarinetists worldwide, even if I've never met them or never heard of them before. I could imagine other high schools' marching bands; although we attend different schools, we (I would imagine) practice the same activities (marching, playing, rehearsing, competing, etc.). I could even imagine how other schools may have different practices: maybe they high-step instead of roll-step; maybe they only have a drum corps (no clarinets!); maybe they have bag pipes; maybe membership isn't voluntary (or by audition only). Imagining how others may be different may allow me to feel more belonging to my own community; imagining how others may be different may also allow me to feel belonging to multiple, similar-but-different communities.
Our high school marching band would try to align its practices to rules and practices of larger organizations. The band "belongs" to a particular school district, and because of this, we must choose our music and programs to appropriately represent the district (no nudity, no explicit language, proper conduct). The band also "belongs" to a bigger organization called the Tournament of Bands, which encompasses many districts in a variety of states; because of this, we must choose our music and programs to match given standards set by the TOB (for example, length of program), and we must practice and rehearse according to the TOB's standards (for example, using high school football field hash marks, not college football field hash marks; also, on an American 100-yard field as opposed to Canadia's 110-yard field; using proper roll-steps; making appropriate eye contact with the press box; memorizing music; etc.). Aligning to an outside organization's standards breeds a feeling of belonging to "something bigger." This also requires some imagination! And engagement!
See my previous post (about the Symposium) for thoughts on identity. (I beat Wenger to it.)
And to you, Mr./Ms. Commercial Marching Band Website Advertiser Person: Prepare to have your trackback rejected!
I knew I was forgetting something this week. I forgot to write in my blog!
So, my thoughts on the Symposium: It was aiight (Dr. McD's word).
As interesting as it was to see people all agog about technologies in teaching and learning, I felt like I was not truly a member of the community. Maybe it's because I'm not Twittering yet (oh I didn't say that) and I didn't have a laptop to whip out to check out what other people were Twittering; since I don't share these practices, I'm not a member of this community of practice. Maybe it's because the Symposium's theme was "How do we as teachers find ways to connect with those digital natives using their native technologies?" when I don't yet identify as a teacher--I'm still pre-service, after all--and I am one of those digital natives. It was difficult for me to participate in those sessions because the attendees were mostly talking about people like me rather than with people like me. I suppose this would have been a golden opportunity to get involved and give them "my side of the story," but perhaps my asocial behavior was also blocking this avenue. (Minh + big groups of strangers = not a good idea.) Maybe it's because I refused to tag myself. Was I openly repelling people because I lacked a technological identity?
This is something I've been thinking about. Does my identity come from only me--the way I'd like to think it does--or, if I don't have an identity (that is, I'm not sure how to practice with a new community), would the community assign me one? Would I just be the loner/newcomer/outsider/etc.? Can you be given an identity without your own input? Let's take out the "I" for a minute: If I were a shell of a human being (okay, a robot) sitting in a room full of members of a community of practice, could I still have an identity? I think I'm not wording this the way I want it to sound, so the point/question I'm trying to may be confusing.
About the Symposium itself: I had hoped it would have been more of a learning opportunity for me. I probably could have picked better sessions, but I didn't walk away with a lot of new ideas (although I liked "notecasting"). Maybe it's because we're in a class about how to use these technologies in teaching and learning environments, and I've already been exposed to most of them. The ones I didn't know weren't elaborated on. Where was the Jing session? Why doesn't the one technology that I haven't heard about get its own session? I think this is a design issue!
And, isn't it odd that we were all given analog pen and paper to tote around the Symposium? Eeeenteresting...
