A young man was murdered across the street from the house where I lived . He was walking home late Saturday night. Two cars came. One man got out and shot him point blank in the head.

We don't know what he was guilty or innocent of. But we do know this. He was in somebody's rock and roll band. He was somebody's boyfriend. He was some mother's son. And now he's no more. 

Everyone probably has someone from their family who they most resemble. For me it's my Uncle Albie. Someone I never met and who I only know through family memories. Physically the resemblance is uncanny. My face is Albie's face. It's wide with a strong nose, square jaw and fine hair that kind of did it's own thing. Features that reflect the melting pot of the Ukraine where Asian and European traders and travelers traversed and mixed.

Albie was the first born of John and Anna Shopa, my grandparents. He attended Central High School in Philadelphia, at the time the premiere public school in the city where he ran cross country. This past weekend my mom gave me the varsity letter Albie earned. A letter he never got to wear.

It was the summer of his senior year. And, turning eighteen he had to go register for the draft. It was the x-ray from his physical where the abnormality was spotted. A shadow on the lung. Later to be diagnosed as cancer.

Albie had earned a scholarship to run track at Penn State. He would have been the first member of our family to attend college. Instead he spent the next two years in and out of hospitals, mostly bedridden, until he became the first occupant of the family plot.

According to everyone who knew him, Albie loved to run. And run. And run. To be in motion was his nature. By all accounts running when when Albie was most comfortable in his own skin. A notion I can relate to.

Running is where I feel most at home with myself. In motion is where everything aligns for me. When running, my mind becomes clear and my senses attune. It's as if I'm in the world and am the world at the same time. It's the closest I come to experiencing the divine. And the only time I've ever gotten the sense of the spiritual.  I cannot imagine not being able to run. Those last two years must have been hell on earth for Albie.

It's the middle of fall and that means we're preparing to possibly upgrade to ANGEL 7.4 at the end of the spring semester. Over the next few months I'll be posting short video previews of some of the major new features we may see if we move from ANGEL 7.3 to ANGEL 7.4 including:

• A new quiz tool called Assessments
• A Rubric tool attached to drop boxes
• A Course Syndication (RSS) folder
• A new Survey tool
• A Custom Content tool
• An easier way to embed images and video using the HTML editor
• A new Gradebook interface

Let's begin by looking at the Rubric Tool:



Let me know if you are interested in previewing ANGEL 7.4 during the spring semester by filing out this form: Coming Soon

Note: This preview is on a plain version of ANGEL and does not contain any Penn State customizations. Not everything shown may be implemented when we upgrade. This video is for informational purposes only.

I'm off from work this week and going to use the time to get things in order both with the house and in my mind. One thing that happens to me is over time I get this build-up of information that clutters my thinking, kind of like how these leaves on the stairwell impede your ability to travel freely. That's what happens in my mind when there's too much going on in there demanding my attention. So I'm using this week to kind winterize my brain as well as my physical surroundings.



Taken with my cameraphone while at the HBG campus, Oct. 09

There are some people who are there all your life, as constant as breath they make you believe in reality. Then there are others who more resemble bolts of lightening, who, by circumstance, are there for a critical moment and then are gone as fast as they came. And your paths cross again it bends your understanding of what's real, of who you are. 

There was a lot of talk at the CIC conference on leveraging social media. In particular, how IT organizations can leverage social media to communicate with their constituents. I know I struggle with this when I'm representing my organization as opposed to myself in these venues and others are as well. Well, I had a moment of gestalt at the end of the conference that I think crystallized it for me.

It was during the final panel discussion featuring several CIOs from the CIC who were discussing shared leadership as a means to transform IT organizations. Toward the end the discussion migrated to social media and how IT organizations can use it. And as one panel member correctly pointed out, social media is really not about the tools used; it's about the connections that are made.

She even quoted Clay Shirkey which reminded me of another Shirky quote about Twitter. To paraphrase, Twitter is powerful not because of the mostly mundane content we put there; Twitter is powerful because we care about the people posting it. It's not the message but the messenger that matters in this instance. And it begs the questions, why should someone care about IT?

Traditionally, IT organizations are seen as utilities. We don't notice them until something goes wrong and the power goes out. This perception is true within IT organizations as well. That's how many working in IT view themselves. To quote one of the panel members when I asked the question, "How do you get people to care about IT?" He replied, "Turn it off."

That's the same attitude my power company has and I certainly do not feel a connection with them. I would block them if they followed me on Twitter and I certainly would not follow them. Especially if they took the approach that many of my IT colleagues are taking. They want to use social media to push information out or to direct you to their website. I was at a presentation where an IT group turned off the comments feature of their blog because they were worried about what comments others, read outsiders, would leave. In my opinion, that is not a recipe for success.

Personally, I do not care about my power company. I do not feel a connection to them. In fact, the only time I think about them is when I pay my bill each month and when the power goes out, and it will. Why would I connect with them via Twitter? Especially if they were only using it to point out they emailed the newsletter I never read.

Social media is all about discourse. And it's an all-in proposition. This means taking the good with the bad. Yes, it is a risk. And, if after the analysis you feel the risk it to great then I recommend not doing it. I'd be more apt to engage with my power company, or an IT department, in this medium if we were having a conversation. If I could ask questions. If they took the risk and let me in on some of what they were thinking and were interested in hearing what I was thinking.

If you want to be a utility, be a utility. At your own peril. Utilities being necessary evils breed discontent. People don't particularly care to deal with them more than what is necessary. Get them angry enough and they will find a way to work around them or even topple them. The same goes for wanting people to connect with you. Engage them through social media at your own peril. Be prepared for some unpleasantness. However, you may find it turns into an opportunity to connect with your constituents, helps you improve, and *gasp* they may even come to care about you.

The great over-arching challenge facing IT groups across the CIC is the culture gap that exists between those of us on the frontier of new educational technology and a great part of the community we try to serve. This was certainly apparent in the ways the conference theme of collaboration manifested itself in the presentations and talks given over the two days. Take how each IT group approaches the use of social media for example.

I was able to sit in on several sessions where IT groups (from Northwestern, Wisconsin, and Indiana) talked about using social media tools to reach their audience, particularly Twitter and Facebook. The challenge they faced was twofold: first they needed to identify the audience using these tools and second they had to come up with an appropriate way to communicate through them. The first part was easy. A majority of students and a great number of faculty use either or both Facebook and Twitter frequently.The second part is a bit trickier.

By nature Twitter and Facebook are informal and open. That is they are very stream of conscious oriented, contain a great bit of the mundane, and occasionally become something greater, e.g. the use of Twitter to capture the election discord in Iran. As Clay Shirky point out, most times it has nothing to do with the actual content. It's because we care about and are interested in the people posting it that we follow.

So the question becomes, why should our audience care to follow us? And how do we stay connected with them through these medium? Do we make informal chit-chat or do we simply post official announcements? It's not a simple question to answer.

I know I struggle with representing myself and my unit in these areas. When I joined Twitter and Facebook I joined as myself (Twitter: jeffswain; Facebook: Jeff Swain). Quickly I encountered the problem of separating my personal stuff from my work stuff. It all bleeds together in the either where everyone can connect. Now I also am the persona for our symposium and e-portfolio initiative. Well, how do I represent them? Is it strictly business or is it personal?

It seems from the presentation that Northwestern prefers to keep it all business. They use these medium to direct their followers to announcements, emails, etc. They prefer to use these as one-way channels to push information out. I do that to but I also post other items as well, such as asking attendees to participate in building things, letting them in on where we are, etc., sort of the behind the scenes look, if you will. By no means have I found a comfort level (Am I speaking as Jeff or am I speaking as the symposium?) but, I do try to make the communication as open as possible.

The results are mixed and I think it's because of two factors. One, I have not yet found "the voice" for these entities and, two, the audience is not yet sure how they feel about entities acting like people in these informal spaces. For example, I believe that if I ask for help with something on Twitter I will get a greater response than if I used the symposium persona to ask the same question.  But there will come a day when I am not the voice of the event so am I doing a long-term disservice to the symposium if I speak for it as Jeff and not the event?

I do not have the answer and would welcome advice from others using social media in this manner to communicate with students and faculty.  

"You look a mess," the cat said to me.

Looking down he was right. My clothes were torn and my body scratched from the chase. At some point I must have vomited on myself because the front of my shirt was covered in this milky hue that smelt disgusting. It was so bad I rolled on my side and vomited again.

"Finished?" the cat asked.

I rolled back over to face it, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"You are a hard one to get attention from," he continued.

"You could have gone about it nicer," I said.

"I could have," he agreed, "But if I did you would have missed the point."

"The point?"

"The point."

"The point"

"Yes, the point," he was becoming agitated and his tail beat back and forth off the ground. "Which I could get to if you'd quit butting in."

I pushed myself up to a sitting position which must have alarmed him because for a moment I thought he was going to take off again. I raised my hand for him to stay. "The floor is yours."

"You have been chosen to go on a quest," he said.

"A quest?"

"Oh dear, are we going to start that again?"

"Sorry," I said, "Go on." At the moment I just wanted him to get out whatever he had to get out so I could pass out again. "What kind of quest?"

I noticed a little purr when he talked. The kind of contented purr a cat makes when your stroking it. And, I swear he was smiling

"A very difficult quest. There will be many trials and you will face many enemies. There is no guarantee that you'll survive, and, even if you do, no guarantee you'll be successful in the end."

"What kind of trials? What kind of demons?" I was becoming rather agitated and swore that if I was to vomit again it would be all over him. As if he understood my intention, he slid back a little.

"That I do not know. But apparently you do, otherwise I would not have been sent to prod you along."

"But I don't know." My anger is rising.

"But you do."

"How do you know?" The world was starting to spin again and I could feel my heartbeat in my temples.

"Because if you didn't I wouldn't be here."

That was when I blacked out again.

The fourth morning was when it all went down. I remember waking up from my run earlier than usual. It was still dark, and it seemed a bit foggy. The wife was still asleep so I dressed in the dark, grabbed my nano, and was out the door.

Much to my relief the carcass was gone and I made my way on down Jacksonville and into town. My morning route was the same. From my home I made two laps around town, enough to get in about 6 and a quarter miles before work.

I made the climb up Jacksonville, it becomes Howard St. when you reach the apex and begin your descent at the New Fellowship Church and was halfway down the hill when of all things I almost tripped over that damn black cat. I must have missed him because of the fog but he was there. And alive. I knew it was my cat and he knew it was me because he almost seemed to smile at he began running.

I chased him and he knew it because every once in a while I would seem him turn his head to make sure I was still following. He lead me to parts of town I'd never ran before. Where Howard comes to a T at Spring St, I normally turn left and head toward town but, the cat turned right so I followed. I pursued him through streets, alleys, and people's yards. He seemed intent on putting obstacles between us. Several times I caught my foot jumping over someone's hedge knocking the wind out of me on landing. When this happened, the cat would stop and wait for me to gather myself before taking off again.

Finally, he took me up a street I'd never been on before. It was a never-ending climb and I could not make up any ground. I was running out of steam, so I one last act of desperation I opened up with everything I had hoping to catch up.

My legs screamed with pain and my heart felt as if it were being squeezed by this tremendous fist. I must have blacked out on somebody's lawn because when I came to, there was the cat sitting by my head, cleaning itself.

My Stephen King moment happened four months back. Turning off my street onto Jacksonville, my regular morning run, I saw a dead animal laying in the middle of the road. Dead animals, the victims of cars, are in abundance in the early summer months with the competition for food and a mate so I paid no mind. That is until I came upon it.

The dead animal happened to be this black cat that I'd frequently meet up with on my runs. We frequently crossed paths in the mornings; I'm not the superstitious type so it never bothered me. In fact it seemed rather friendly, often stopping what it was doing to sit and watch me as I went by. A curious trait in a cat I thought and I was inclined to stop and pet it if I wasn't deathly allergic to cats.

The manner of death was horrifying. The cat lay on its side, like it could be napping, covered head to foot in quills, or needles, or something. And in its middle, where the stomach was, was a pink hole where the guts spilled out.

I carried on with my run. What was I to do?

The next morning on my run I did not notice the carcass in the road when I turned the corner. I was relieved until I got closer and saw the that the carcass had moved closer to the berm. I did not appear to have been run over or kicked, or otherwise moved there. In fact it was in the same state as it was yesterday. The only difference seemed to be in its face, where I swear I saw pain.

I sidestepped the body and carried on with my run. What was I to do?

The third morning kind of freaked me. Now the cat carcass lay directly in my path, the same position as the previous two days and the pained look on its face. Only this time I saw that the right front paw had been severed and was laying there about a foot away from the body.

I was disgusted but I carried on with my run. What else was I supposed to do?