Five years or so ago, when MOOCs were still a new thing, I commented on what seemed to be the emerging typical duration of open online courses: Open Courses: About 10 Weeks Seems To Be It, Then?
For the OU’s 10 week short courses, which nominally required up to 10 hours study a week (the courses were rated at 10 CAT points), this meant a duration of 100 hours. The cost (at the time) of those courses was about £150, I think. So about £1.50 an hour purchase cost.
Looking at the upcoming OU FutureLearn course Learn to code for data analysis, the time commitment is 4 weeks at 3-4 hours per week, so about 15 hours. If you don’t want to pay anything, you don’t have to.
Although I can’t offhand find any previous OUseful.info blog posts comparing courses to things like books or games (and I guess, DVD/streamed TV “box sets”), as “cultural content consumption items”, it’s one of the reference points I often think about when it comes to trying to imagining how a course – formal (for credit), or informal – fits into the life of the student amongst other competing demands on the their time, attention and finances. If someone is going to take a course for the first time and spend time/attention/cash on it, does the study pattern neatly replace or substitute a previous pattern of activity, or does it require a more significant change in a learners daily or weekly habits. In other words, what are the attention economics associated with taking a course?
This was all brought to mind again lately when I spotted this post – Forty Hours – which opens with the observation that “the majority of videogames were made on the assumption that they would be played for forty hours. Now, games are being made to be played for longer and longer. (I’ve no idea if this is true or not; I don’t really follow game culture. Maybe the longer games are ones where there is an element of social (especially 2-way audio) enhanced gameplay?)
If true, this seems to contrast with the shortening of courses that is perhaps taking place on FutureLearn (again, I don’t have the data to back this up; it’s just an impression; nor do I have the data about evolving course length more widely in MOOC space. Presumably, the Open Education Research Hub is the sort of place where I should be able to find this sort of data?)
If that is the case, then why are games getting longer and online open courses shorter (if, indeed, they are? And in formal ed, where does semesterisation sit in all this?). As the Forty Hours post goes on:
[E]very major commercial game now attempts to ‘capture’ its audience for at least 200 hours, with multiplayer modes being the core method of retention. The forty hour model was a consequence of selling games-as-products, as boxed content that would be played then thrown onto a pile of completed games (although it turns out that the minority of players finish games). The 200 hour model is a consequence of selling games-as-services, with monetization now an on-going process throughout the time the players are engaged with the title in question. …
The big money is no longer out to hold a player’s attention for forty hours, but to hold a player’s attention long enough to get the next game out, or to hold on to groups of players in the hope to pull in a few big spenders, or to hold the player’s attention throughout the year with events crafted to maintain appeal and bring back those who are slipping away into other games. Hobby players – those who commit to a game service over the long term – often play other games on the side, which is a tiny crumb of good news for indies making smaller games. …
The game-as-product approach where the forty hour model had dominated still survives, but only where it has proved difficult or impossible to tie players down for longer lengths of time. The market for videogames is ceasing to be one of packaged experience (like movies and novels) and becoming a fight for retention, as more and more games in the upper market shift their design towards training new hobby players in a ongoing economy.
In other words, why are we looking to shorten the relationship someone has with a course? Is this so we can extend the relationship the platform has with the learner by getting them to take more, shorter courses rather than fewer longer courses? (UPDATE: Or as Helen Noble points out in a comment, is it because the MOOC is actually a loss leading tease intended to draw students into a longer formal commitment? As opposed to being an alumni touch point, encouraging a graduate to maintain some sort of content with their alma mater in the hope getting a donation or bequest out of them later in life?!)
In terms of the completion commitment pitch (that is, what sort of commitment is required of folk to complete a course, or a game), what do the attention spending, cultural content consumers respond to? And how do the economics of competing concerns play out?
(That sounds like a marketing concern, doesn’t it? But it presumably also impacts on learning design within and across courses?)
Reading around a variety of articles on the various ways of deploying software in education, it struck me that in traditional institutions a switch is may be taking place between students making use of centrally provided computing services – including physical access to desktop computers – to students bringing their own devices on which they may want to run the course software themselves. In addition, traditional universities are also starting to engage increasingly with their own distance education students; and the rise of the MOOCs are based around the idea of online course provision – that is, distance education.
The switch from centrally provided computers to a BYOD regime contrasts with the traditional approach in distance education in which students traditionally provided their own devices and onto which they installed software packaged and provided by their educational institution. That is, distance education students have traditionally been BYOD users.
However, in much the same way that the library in a distance education institution like the OU could not originally provide physical information (book lending) services to students, instead brokering access agreements with other HE libraries, but now can provide a traditional a traditional library service through access to digital collections, academic computing services are perhaps now more in a position where they can provide central computing services, at scale, to their students. (Contributory factors include: readily available network access for students, cheaper provider infrastructure costs (servers, storage, bandwidth, etc).)
With this in mind, it is perhaps instructive for those of us working in distance education to look at how the traditional providers are coping with an an influx of BYOD users, and how they are managing access to, and the distribution of, software to this newly emerging class of user (for them) whilst at the same time continuing to provide access to managed facilities such as computing labs and student accessed machines.
Notes from: Supporting CS Education via Virtualization and Packages – Tools for Successfully Accommodating “Bring-Your-Own-Device” at Scale, Andy Sayler, Dirk Grunwald, John Black, Elizabeth White, and Matthew Monaco SIGCSE’14, March 5–8, 2014, Atlanta, GA, USA [PDF]
The authors describe “a standardized development environment for all core CS courses across a range of both school-owned and student-owned computing devices”, leveraging “existing off-the-shelf virtualization and software management systems to create a common virtual machine that is used across all of our core computer science courses”. The goal was to “provide students with an easy to install and use development environment that they could use across all their CS courses. The development environment should be available both on department lab machines, and as a VM for use on student-owned machines (e.g. as a ‘lab in a box’).”
From the student perspective, our solution had to: a) Run on a range of host systems; b) Be easy to install; c) Be easy to use and maintain; d) Minimize side-effects on the host system; e) Provide a stable experience throughout the semester.
From the instructor perspective, our solution had to: a) Keep the students happy; b) Minimize instructor IT overhead; c) Provide consistent results across student, grader, and instructor machines; d) Provide all necessary software for the course; e) Provide the ability to update software as the course progresses.
Virtualbox was adopted on the grounds that it runs cross-platform, is free, open source software, and has good support for running Linux guest machines. The VM was based on Ubuntu 12.04 (presumably the long term edition available at the time) and distributed as an .ova image.
To support the distribution of software packages for a particular course, Debian metapackages (that simply list dependencies; in passing, I note that the Anaconda python distribution supports the notion of python (conda) metapackages, but pip does not, specifically?) were created on a per course basis that could be used via apt-get to install all the necessary packages required for a particular course (example package files).
In terms of student support, the team published “a central web-page that provides information about the VM, download links, installation instructions, common troubleshooting steps, and related self-help information” along with “YouTube videos describing the installation and usage of the VM”. Initial distribution is provided using BitTorrent. Where face-to-face help sessions are required, VM images are provided on USB memory sticks to avoid download time delays. Backups are handled by bundling Dropbox into the VM and encouraging students to place their files there. (Github is also used.)
The following observation is useful in respect of student experience of VM performance:
“Modern CPUs provide extensions that enable a fast, smooth and enjoyable VM experience (i.e. VT-x). Unfortunately, many non-Apple PC manufacturers ship their machines with these extension disabled in the BIOS. Getting students to enable these extensions can be a challenge, but makes a big difference in their overall impression of VM usability. One way to force students to enable these extensions is to use a 64-bit and/or multi-core VM, which VirtualBox will not start without virtualization extensions enabled.”
The open issues identified by the team are the issue of virtualisation support; corrupted downloads of the VM (mitigation includes publishing a checksum for the VM and verifying against this); and the lack of a computer capable of running the VM (ARM devices, low specification Intel Atom computers). [On this latter point, it may be worth highlighting the distinction between hardware that cannot cope with running computationally intensive applications, hardware that has storage limitations, and hardware that cannot run particular virtualisation services (for example, that cannot run x86 virtualisation). See also: What Happens When “Computers” Are Replaced by Tablets and Phones?]
The idea of using package management is attractive, and contrasts with the approach I took when hacking together the TM351 VM using vagrant and puppet scripts. It might make sense to further abstract the machine components into a Debian metapackage and a simple python/pip “meta” package (i.e. one that simply lists dependencies). The result would be an installation reduced to a couple of lines of the form:
apt-get install ou_tm351=15J.0
pip install ou_tm351==15J.0
where packages are versioned to a particular presentation of an OU course, with a minor version number to accommodate any updates/patches. One downside to this approach is that it splits co-dependency relationships between python and Debian packages relative to a particular application. In the current puppet build files for the monolithic VM build, each application has its own puppet file that installs the additional libraries over base libraries required for a particular application. (In addition, particular applications can specify dependencies on base libraries.) For the dockerised VM build, each container image has it’s own Dockerfile that identifies the dependencies for that image.
Tracing its history (and reflecting the accumulated clutter of my personal VM learning journey!) the draft TM351 VM is currently launched and provisioned using vagrant, partly because I can’t seem to start the IPython Notebook reliably from a startup script:-( Distributing the machine as a start/stoppable appliance (i.e. as an Open Virtualization Format/.ova package) might be more convenient, if we could guarantee that file sharing with host works as required (sharing against a specific folder on host) and any port collisions experienced by the provided services can be managed and worked around?
Port collisions are less of an issue for Sayler et al. because their model is that students will be working within the VM context – a “desktop as a local service” (or “platform as a local service” model); the TM351 VM model provides services that run within the VM, some of which are exposed via http to the host – more of a “software as a local service” model. In the cloud, software-as-a-service and desktop-as-a-service models are end-user delivery models, where users access services through a browser or lightweight desktop client, compared with “platform-as-a-service” offerings where applications can be developed and delivered within a managed development environment offering high level support services, or “infrastructure as a service” offerings, which provide access to base computing components (computational processing, storage, networking, etc.)
Note that what interests me particularly are delivery models that support all three of the following models: BYOD, campus lab, and cloud/remotely hosted offerings (as a crude shorthand, I use ‘cloud’ to mean environments that are responsive in terms of firing up servers to meet demand). The notions of personal computing environments, course computing environments and personal course computing environments might also be useful, (for example, a course computing environment might be a generic container populated with course software, a personal course computing container might then be a container linked to a student’s identity, with persisted state and linked storage, or a course container running on a students own device) alongside research computing environments and personal research computing environments.
Perhaps it’s just because my antennae are sensitised at the moment, post posting Open Practice and My Academic Philosophy, Sort Of… Erm, Maybe… Perhaps..?!, but here are a couple more folk saying much the same thing…
From @Downes getting on for five years ago now (The Role of the Educator), he mentions how several elements of his open practice (hacking useful code, running open online courses (though he just calls them “online courses”; five years ago, remember, before “open” was the money phrase?!;-), sharing through a daily links round up and conference presentations, and thinking about stuff) have led:
to an overall approach not only to learning online but to learning generally. It’s not simply that I’ve adopted this approach; it’s that I and my colleagues have observed this approach emerging in the community generally.
It’s an approach that emphasizes open learning and learner autonomy. It’s an approach that argues that course content is merely a tool employed to stimulate and support learning — a McGuffin, as I’ve called it in various presentations, “a plot element that catches the viewers attention or drives the plot of a work of fiction” — rather than the object of learning itself. It’s an approach that promotes a pedagogy of learning by engagement and activity within an authentic learning community — a community of practitioners, where people practice the discipline, rather than merely just talk about it.
It’s an approach that emphasizes exercises involving those competencies rather than deliberate acts of memorization or rote, an approach that seeks to grow knowledge in a manner analogous to building muscles, rather than to transfer or construct knowledge through some sort of cognitive process.
It’s an approach that fosters a wider and often undefined set of competencies associated with a discipline, a recognition that knowing, say, physics, isn’t just to know the set of facts and theories related to physics, but rather to embody a wider set of values, beliefs, ways of observing and even mannerisms associated with being a physicist (it is the caricature of this wider set of competencies that makes The Big Bang Theory so funny).
Concordant with this approach has been the oft-repeated consensus that the role of the educator will change significantly. Most practitioners in the field are familiar with the admonishment that an educator will no longer be a “sage on the stage”. But that said, many others resist the characterization of an educator as merely a “guide by the side.” We continue to expect educators to play an active role in learning, but it has become more difficult to characterize exactly what that role may be.
In my own work, I have stated that the role of the teacher is to “model and demonstrate.” What I have tried to capture in this is the idea that students need prototypes on which to model their own work. Readers who have learned to program computers by copying and adapting code will know what I mean. But it’s also, I suppose, why I see the footprints of Raymond Chandler all through William Gibson’s writing. We begin by copying successful practice, and then begin to modify that practice to satisfy our own particular circumstances and needs.
In order for this to happen, the instructor must be more than just a presenter or lecturer. The instructor, in order to demonstrate practice, is required to take a more or less active role in the disciplinary or professional community itself, demonstrating by this activity successful tactics and techniques within that community, and modeling the approach, language and world view of a successful practitioner. This is something we see in medicine already, as students learn as interns working alongside doctors or nurse practitioners.
Five years ago…
At the other end of the career spectrum, grad student Sarah Crissinger had to write a “one-page teaching philosophy” as part of a recent job application (Reflections on the Job Hunt: Writing a Teaching Philosophy). Reflecting on two different approaches to teaching she had witnessed from two different yoga classes, one good, one bad, she observed of the effective teacher that:
[h]e starts every class by telling students that the session isn’t about replicating the exact pose he is doing. It’s more about how your individual body feels in the pose. In other words, he empowers students to do what they can without feeling shame about not being as flexible as their neighbor. He also solidifies the expectations of the class by saying upfront what the goals are and then he reiterates those expectations by giving modifications for each pose and talking about how your body should feel instead of how it should look.
..which in part reminded me of cookery style promoted by James Barber, aka the urban peasant…
Sarah Crissinger also made this nice observation:
Teachers reflect on teaching even when we don’t mean to.
That is, effective teachers are also adaptive learning machines… (Reflection is part of the self-correcting feedback path.)
See also: Sheila McNeil on How do you mainstream open education and OERs? A bit of feedback sought for #oer15, and the comments therefrom. Sheila’s approach also brings to mind The Art Of Guerrilla Research, which emphasises the “just do it” attitude of open practice…
Just like the way VLEs locked down what those who wanted to try to stuff out could do with educational websites, usually on the grounds of “security”, so a chunk of lightweight functionality with possible educational value that I was about to start to exploring inside IPython notebooks has been locked out by the new IPython notebook security policy:
Affected use cases
Some use cases that work in IPython 1.0 will become less convenient in 2.0 as a result of the security changes. We do our best to minimize these annoyance, but security is always at odds with convenience.
Here’s what I’ve been exploring – using a simple button:
to reveal an answer:
It’s a 101 interaction style in “e-learning” (do we still call it that?!) and one that I was hoping to explore more given the interactive richness of the IPython notebook environment.
and then a quick call from a button onclick event handler to reveal the answer block:
<input type="button" value="Answer" onclick="showHide('ans2')"> <div id="ans2" style="display:none">I can see several ways of generating common identifiers: <ul><li>using the **gss** code from the area data, I could generate identifiers of the form `http://http://statistics.data.gov.uk/id/statistical-geography/GSS`</li> <li>from the housing start data, I could split the *Reference Area* on space characters and then extract the GSS code from the first item in the split list</li> <li>The *districtname* in the area data looks like it make have "issues" with spacing in area names. If we remove spaces and turn everything to lower case in the area data *districtname* and the *Reference Area* in the housing data, we *may* be able create matching keys. But it could be a risky strategy...</li> </ul></div>
This won’t work anymore – and I don’t have the time to learn whether custom CSS can do this, and if so, how.
I don’t really want to have to go back to the approach I tried before I demoed the button triggered reveal example to myself…
That is, putting answers into a python library and then using code to pull the text answer in…
Note also the use of colour in the cells – this is something else I wanted to try to explore, the use of styling to prompt interactions; in the case of IPython notebooks, I quite like the idea of students taking ownership of the notebooks and adding content to it, whether by adding commentary text to cells we have written in, adding their own comment cells (perhaps using a different style – so a different cell type?), amending code stubs we have written, adding in their own code, perhaps as code complements to comment prompts we have provided, etc etc.
The quick hack, try and see option that immediately came to mind to support these sorts of interaction seems to have been locked out (or maybe not – rather than spending half an hour on a quick hack I’ll have to spend have an hour reading docs…). This is exactly the sort of thing that cuts down on our ability to mix ideas and solutions picked up from wherever, and just try them out quickly; and whilst I can see the rationale, it’s just another of those things to add to the when the web was more open pile. (I was going to spend half an hour blogging a post to let other members of the course team I’m on know how to add revealed answers to their notebooks, but as I’ve just spent 18 hours trying to build a VM box that supports python3 and the latest IPythion notebook, I’m a bit fed up at the thought of having to stick with the earlier version py’n’notebook VM I built because it’s easier for us to experiment with…)
I have to admit that some of the new notebook features look like they could be interesting from a teaching point of view in certain subject areas – the ability to publish interactive widgets where the controls talk to parameters accessed via the notebook code cells, but that wasn’t on my to do list for the next week…
What I was planning to do was explore what we’d need to do to get elements of the notebook behaving like elements in OU course materials, under the assumption that our online materials have designs that go hand in hand with good pedagogy. (This is a post in part about OU stuff, so necessarily it contains the p-word.)
Something else on the to do list was to explore how to tweak the branding of the notebook, for example to add in an OU logo or (for my other day per week), a School of Data logo. (I need to check the code openness status of IPython notebooks… How bad form would it be to remove the IPy logo for example? And where should a corporate log go? In the toolbar, or at the top of the content part of the notebook? If you just contribute content, I guess the latter; if you add notebook functionality, maybe the topbar is okay?)
There are a few examples of styling notebooks out there, but I wonder – will those recipes still work?
Ho hum – this post probably comes across as negative about IPython notebooks, but it shouldn’t because they’re a wonderful environment (for example, Doodling With IPython Notebooks for Education and Time to Drop Calculators in Favour of Notebook Programming?). I’m just a bit fed up that after a couple of days graft I don’t get to have half and hour’s fun messing around with look and feel. Instead, I need to hit the docs to find out what’s possible and what isn’t because the notebooks are no longer an open environment as they were… Bah..:-(
A trackback a week or two ago to my blog from this personal blog post: #SNAc week 1: what are networks and what use is it to study them? highlighted me to a MOOC currently running on Coursera on social network analysis. The link was contextualised in the post as follows: The recommended readings look interesting, but it’s the curse of the netbook again – there’s no way I’m going to read a 20 page PDF on a screen. Some highlighted resources from Twitter and the forum look a bit more possible: … Some nice ‘how to’ posts: … (my linked to post was in the ‘howto’ section).
The whole MOOC hype thing at the moment seems to be dominated by references to the things like Coursera, Udacity and edX (“xMOOCs”). Coursera in particularly is a new sort of intermediary, a website that offers some sort of applied marketing platform to universities, allowing them to publish sample courses in a centralised, browsable, location and in a strange sense legitimising them. I suspect there is some element of Emperor’s New Clothes thinking going on in the universities who have opted in and those who may be considering it: “is this for real?”; “can we afford not to be a part of it?”
Whilst Coursera has an obvious possible business model – charge the universities for hosting their
marketing material courses – Udacity’s model appears more pragmatic: provide courses with the option of formal assessment via Pearson VUE assessment centres, and then advertise your achievements to employers on the Udacity site; presumably, the potential employers and recruiters (which got me thinking about what role LinkedIn might possibly play in this space?) are seen as the initial revenue stream for Udacity. Note that Udacity’s “credit” awarding powers are informal – in the first instance, credibility is based on the reputation of the academics who put together the course; in contrast, for courses on Coursera, and the rival edX partnership (which also offers assessment through Pearson VUE assessment centres), credibility comes from the institution that is responsible for putting together the course. (It’s not hard to imagine a model where institutions might even badge courses that someone else has put together…)
Note that Coursera, Udacity and edX are all making an offering based on quite a traditional course model idea and are born out of particular subject disciplines. Contrast this in the first part with something like Khan Academy, which is providing learning opportunities at a finer level of granularity/much smaller “learning chunks” in the form of short video tutorials. Khan Academy also provides the opportunity for Q&A based discussion around each video resource.
Also by way of contrast are the “cMOOC” style offerings inspired by the likes of George Siemens, Stephen Downes, et al., where a looser curriculum based around a set of topics and initially suggested resources is used to bootstrap a set of loosely co-ordinated personal learning journeys: learners are encouraged to discover, share and create resources and feed them into the course network in a far more organic way than the didactic, rigidly structured approach taken by the xMOOC platforms. The cMOOC style also offeres the possibility of breaking down subject disciplines through accepting shared resources contributed because they are relevant to the topic being explored, rather than because they are part of the canon for a particular discipline.
The course without boundaries approach of Jim Groom’s ds106, as recently aided and abetted by Alan Levine, also softens the edges of a traditionally offered course with its problem based syllabus and open assignment bank (particpants are encouraged to submit their own assignment ideas) and turns learning into something of a lifestyle choice… (Disclaimer: regular readers will know that I count the cMOOC/ds106 “renegades” as key forces in developing my own thinking…;-)
Something worth considering about the evolution of open education from early open content/open educational resource (OER) repositories and courseware into the “Massive Open Online Course” thing is just what caused the recent upsurge in interest? Both MIT opencourseware and the OU’s OpenLearn offerings provided “anytime start”, self-directed course units; but my recollection is that it was Thrun & Norvig’s first open course on AI (before Thrun launched Udacity), that captured the popular (i.e. media) imagination because of the huge number of students that enrolled. Rather than the ‘on-demand’ offering of OpenLearn, it seems that the broadcast model, and linear course schedule, along with the cachet of the instructors, were what appealed to a large population of demonstrably self-directed learners (i.e. geeks and programmers, who spend their time learning how to weave machines from ideas).
I also wonder whether the engagement of universities with intermediary online course delivery platforms will legitimise online courses run by other organisations; for example, the Knight Centre Massive Open Online Courses portal (a Moodle environment) is currently advertising it’s first MOOC on infographics and data visualisation:
Similar to other Knight Center online courses, this MOOC is divided into weekly modules. But unlike regular offerings, there will be no application or selection process. Anyone can sign up online and, once registered, participants will receive instructions on how to enroll in the course. Enrollees will have immediate access to the syllabus and introductory information.
The course will include video lectures, tutorials, readings, exercises and quizzes. Forums will be available for discussion topics related to each module. Because of the “massive” aspect of the course, participants will be encouraged to provide feedback on classmates’ exercises while the instructor will provide general responses based on chosen exercises from a student or group of students.
Cairo will focus on how to work with graphics to communicate and analyze data. Previous experience in information graphics and visualization is not needed to take this course. With the readings, video lectures and tutorials available, participants will acquire enough skills to start producing compelling, simple infographics almost immediately. Participants can expect to spend 4-6 hours per week on the course.
Although the course will be free, if participants need to receive a certificate, there will be a $20 administrative fee, paid online via credit card, for those who meet the certificate requirements. The certificate will be issued only to students who actively participated in the course and who complied with most of the course requirements, such as quizzes and exercises. The certificates will be sent via email as a PDF document. No formal course credit of any kind is associated with the certificate.
Another of the things that I’ve been pondering is the role that “content” may or not play a role in this open course thing. Certainly, where participants are encouraged to discover and share resources, or where instructors seek to construct courses around “found resources”, an approach espoused by the OU’s new postgraduate strategy, it seems to me that there is an opportunity to contribute to the wider open learning idea by producing resources that can be “found”. For resources to be available as found resources, we need the following:
- Somebody needs to have already created them…
- They need to be discoverable by whoever is doing the finding
- They need to be appropriately licensed (if we have to go through a painful rights clearnance and rights payment model, the cost benefits of drawing on and freely reusing those resources are severely curtailed).
Whilst the running of a one shot MOOC may attract however many participants, the production of finer grained (and branded) resources that can be used within those courses means that a provider can repeatedly, and effortlessly, contribute to other peoples courses through course participants pulling the resources into those coure contexts. (It also strikes me that educators in one institution could sign up for a course offered by another, and then drop in links to their own
applied marketing learning materials.)
One thing I’ve realised from looking at Digital Worlds uncourse blog stats is that some of the posts attract consistent levels of traffic, possibly because they have been embedded to from other course syllabuses. I also occasionally see flurries of downloads of tutorial files, which makes me wonder whether another course has linked to resources I originally produced. If we think of the web in it’s dynamic and static modes (static being the background links that are part of the long term fabric of the web, dynamic as the conversation and link sharing that goes on in social networks, as well as the publication of “alerts” about new fabric (for example, the publication of a new blog post into the static fabric of the web is announced through RSS feeds and social sharing as part of the dynamic conversation)), then the MOOCs appear to be trying to run in a dynamic, broadcast mode. Whereas what interests me is how we can contribute to the static structure of the web, and how we can make better use of it in a learning context?
PS a final thought – running scheduled MOOCs is like a primetime broadcast; anytime independent start is like on-demand video. Or how about this: MOOCs are like blockbuster books, published to great fanfare and selling millions of first day, pre-ordered copies. But there’s also long tail over time consumption of the same books… and maybe also books that sell steadily over time without great fanfare. Running a course once is all well and good; but it feels too ephemeral, and too linear rather than networked thinking to me?
Way back when I was a postgrad, I used to spend a coffee fuelled morning reading in bed, and then get up to eat a cooked breakfast whilst watching the Urban Peasant, a home kitchen chef with a great attitude:
My abiding memory, in part confirmed by several of the asides in the above clip (can you guess which?!), was that of “agile cooking” and flexible recipes. A chicken curry (pork’s fine too, or beef, even fish if you like; or potato if you want a vegetarian version) could be served with rice (or bread, or a baked potato); if you didn’t like curry, you could leave out the spices or curry powder, and just use a stock cube. If a recipe called for chopped vegetables, you could also grate them or slice them or dice them or…”it’s your decision”. Potato and peas could equally well be carrot or parsnip and beans. If you needed to add water to a recipe, you could add wine, or beer, or fruit juice or whatever instead; if you wanted to have scrambled egg on toast, you could also fry it, or poach it, or boil it. And the toast could be a crumpet or a muffin or just use “whatever you’ve got”.
The ethos was very much one of: start with an idea, and/or see what you’ve got, and then work with it – a real hacker ethic. It also encouraged you to try alternative ideas out, to be adaptive. And I’m pretty sure mistakes happened too – but that was fine…
When I play with data, I often have a goal in mind (albeit a loose one), used to provide a focus for exploring a data set I want to explore a little (typically using Schneiderman’s “Overview first, zoom and filter, then details-on-demand” approach), to see what potential it might hold, or to act a testbed for a tool or technique I want to try out. The problem then becomes one of coming up with some sort of recipe that works with the data and tools I have to hand, as well as the techniques and processes I’ve used before. Sometimes, a recipe I’m working on requires me to get another ingredient out of the fridge, or another utensil out of the cupboard. Sometimes I use a tea towel as an oven glove, or a fork as a knife. Sometimes I taste the food-in-process to know when it’s done, sometimes I go by the colour, texture, consistency, shape, smell or clouds of smoke that have started to appear.
Because I haven’t had any formal training in any of this “stuff”, using “approved” academic sources (I’ve recently been living by R-Bloggers (which is populated by quite a few academics) and Stack Overflow, for example), I suffer from a lack of confidence in talking about it in an academic way (see for example For My One Thousandth Blogpost: The Un-Academic), and a similar lack of confidence in feeling that I could ever charge anybody a fee for telling them what I (think I) know (leave aside for the moment that I effectively charge the OU my salary, benefits and on-costs… hmmm?!). I used to do the academic thing way back when as a postgrad and early postdoc, but fell out of the habit over the last few years because there seemed to me to be a huge amount of investment of time required for very little impact or consequence of what I was doing. Yes, it’s important for things be “right”, but I’m not sure my maths is up to generating formal proofs of new algorithms. I may be able to do the engineering or technologist thing of getting something working, -ish, good enough “for now”, research-style coding, but it’s always mindful of an engineering style trade-off: that it might not be “right” and is just something I figured out that seems to work, but that it’ll do because it lets me get something done… As Artur Bergman puts it using rather colourful language – “yes, correlation isn’t causation, but…”
(This clip was originally brought to mind by a recent commentary from Stephen Downes on The Internet Blowhard’s Favorite Phrase, and the original post it refers to.)
Also mixed up in the notion of “right” is seeing things as “right” if they are formally recognised or accepted as such, which is where assessment and peer review come in: you let other people you trust make an assessment about whatever it is you do/have done, publicly recognising your achievements which in turn allows you to make a justifiable claim to them. (I am reminded here of the definition of knowledge as justified true belief. That word “justified” is interesting, isn’t it…?)
As well as resisting getting in the whole grant bidding cycle for turnover generating, public money cycling projects that are set up to fail, I’ve also recently started to fall out of OU-style formal teaching roles… again, in part because of the long lead times involved with producing course materials and my preference for network based, rather than teamwork based, working style. (I so need to revisit formal models of teamwork and try to come up with a corresponding formulation for networks rather than teams…Or do a lit review to find one that’s already out there…!) I tend to write in 1 hour chunks based on 3-4 hours work, then post whatever it is I’ve done. One reason for doing this is becuase I figure most people read or do things in 5 to 15 minutes or one to two hour chunks and that in a network-centric, distributed online online educational setting small chunks are more likely to be discoverable and immediately useful (directly and immediately learnable from) chunks. There’s no shame in using a well crafted Wikipedia as a starting point for discovering more detailed – and academic – resources: at least you stand a good chance of finding the Wikipedia page! In the same way, I try to link out out to supporting resources from most of my posts so that readers (including myself as a revisitor to these pages in that set) have some additional context, supporting or conflicting material to help get more value from it. (Related: Why I (Edu)Blog.)
Thinking about my own personal lack of confidence, which in part arises from the way I have informally learned whatever it is that I have actually learned over the last few years and not had it formally validated by anybody else, my interest in espousing an informal style networked learning on others is an odd one… Because based on my own experience, it doesn’t give me the feeling that what I know is valid (justified..?), or even necessarily trustable by anybody other than me (because I know how it’s caveated because of what I have personally learned about it, rather than just being told about it), even if it is pragmatic and at least occasionally appears to be useful. (Hmm… I don’t think an OU editor would let me get away with a sentence like that in a piece of OU course material!) Maybe I need to start keeping a second, formalised reflective learning journal as the OU Skills for OU Study suggests to log what I learn, and provide some sort of indexable and searchable metadata around it? In fact, this approach might be a useful approach if I do another uncourse? (It also brings to mind the word equation: Learning material + metadata = learning object (it was something like that, wasn’t it?!))
To the extent that this blog is an act of informal, open teaching, I think it offers three main things: a) “knowledge transferring” discoverable resources on a variety of specialised topics; b) fragmentary records of created knowledge (I *think* I’ve managed to make up odd bits of new stuff over the last few years…); c) a model of some sort of online distributed network centric learning behaviour (see also the Digital Worlds Uncourse Blog Experiment in this respect).
I guess one of the things I do get to validate against is the real world. When I used to go into schools doing robotics activities*, kids would ask me if their robot or programme was “right”. In many cases, there wasn’t really a notion of “right”, it was more a case of:
- were there things that were obviously wrong?
- did the thing work as anticipated (or indeed, did any elements of it work at all?!;-)?
- were there any bits that could be improved, adapted or done in another more elegant way?
So it is with some of my visualisation “experiments” – are they not wrong (is the data right, is there a sensible relationship between the data and the visual mappings)? do they “work” at all (eg in the sense of communicating a particular trend, or revealing a particular anomaly)? could they be improved? By running the robot program, or trying to read the story a data visualisation appears to be telling us, we can get a sense of how “right” it is; but there is often no single “right” for it to be. Which is where doubt can crop in… Because if something is “not right”, then maybe it’s “wrong”…?
In the world of distributed, networked learning, I think one thing we need to work on is developing an appropriate sense of validation and legitimisation of personal learning. Things like badges are weak extrinsic signs that some would claim have a role in this, but I wonder how networks and communities can be shaped and architected, or how their dynamics might work, so that learners develop not only a well-founded intrinsic confidence about what they have self-learned, but also a feeling that what they have self-learned is as legitimate as something they have been formally taught? (I know, I know: “I was at the University of Life, me”… As I am, now… which reminds me, I’ve a Coursera video and Feynman lecture on Youtube to watch, and a couple of code mentor answers to questions I’ve raised on various Stack Exchange sites to read through; and I probably should check to see if there are any questions recently posted to Stack Overflow that I may be able to answer and use to link out to other, more academic “open educational” resources…)
[Rereading this post, I think I am suffering from a lack of formality and the sense of justification that comes with it. Hmmm…]
* This is something I’ve recently been asked to do again for an MK local primary school in the new year; the contact queried how much I might charge and whilst in the past I would have said “no need”, for some reason this time I felt obliged to seek advice about from the Deanery about whether I should charge, and if so how much. This a huge personal cultural shift away from my traditional “of course/pro bono” attitude, and it felt wrong, somehow. To the extent that universities are public bodies, they should work with other public services in their local and extended communities. But of course, I get the sense we’re not really being encouraged to think of ourselves as public bodies very much any more, we’re commercial services… And that feeling affects the personal responsibility I feel when acting for and on behalf of the university. As it turns out, the Deanery seems keen that we participate freely in community events… But I note here that I felt (for the first time) as if I had to check first. So what’s in the air?
See also: Terran Lane’s On Leaving Academia and (via @boyledsweetie) Inspirational teaching: since when did entertainment not matter?
I just had a “doh!” moment in the context of OERs – Open Educational Resources, typically so called because they are Resources produced by an Educator under an Open content license (which to all intents and purposes is a copyright waiver). One of the things that appeals to me about OERs is that there is no reason for them not to be publicly discoverable which makes them the ideal focus for PEER – Public Engagement with Educational Resources. Which is what the OU traditionally offered through 6am TV broadcasts of not-quite-lectures…
Or how about this one?
PS It also seems to me that users tend not to get too hung up about how things are licensed, particularly educational ones, because education is about public benefit and putting constraints on education is just plain stoopid. Discovery is nine tenths of law, as it were. The important thing about having something licensed as an OER is that no-one can stop you from sharing it… (which even if you’re the creator of a resource, you may not b able to do; academics, for example, often hand over the copyright of their teaching materials to their employer, and their employer’s copyright over their research output (similarly transferred as a condition of employment) to commercial publishers who then sell the content back to their employers.