Learning

What would you do with a brain if you had one? (Dorothy Gale, to the Scarecrow)

 

I should have thought of that myself.Is all learning “social?”  In some ways, that’s a metaphysical question.  I’ve learned by reading and then applying what I read to some problem– like fiddling with the style sheet on my blog.

I suppose I’ve interacted with the person who wrote the book, and indirectly with the people who see the results of what I’ve done.  Or with myself, if I’m the only one who can tell the difference.

Parsing this can be fun, like pre-Vatican II discussions of Catholic practice.  “Brother Andrew–if it was Friday at the South Pole, and I had a ham sandwich, could I walk over to where it would be Saturday and eat the sandwich?  Would I have to wait before walking back to Friday?”

Most of the time, I think learning evidence itself through interaction with others (so, “social”).  More important, to me “learning” demands application.  Until you retrieve the facts, exercise the skill, attempt a new arrangement–do something–I don’t quite see how you can claim to have learned.

With that meandering out of the way, I’d like to highlight a highly useful series by Jane Hart: C4LPT’s Guide to Social Learning.  She discusses the shift from elearning to social learning, discusses social media, and gives examples of social media in learning.

Most helpful to me: Jane identified five types of learningHarold Jarche looked at those and created the chart you see on the right, showing the amount of  “directedness” for each category.

  • IOL: intra-organizational learning
  • GDL: group-directed learning
  • PDL: personally-directed learning
  • ASL: accidental and serendipitous learning
  • FSL: formal structured learning

(So the list and the chart are a nice example of collaboration.  I thank Jane for clarifying this for me, and have edited this post accordingly.)

A highlight of Jane’s series is an extensive list of examples.  In a grid, she provides examples of different social media tools as they can be used for each of the types of learning in Harold’s chart.

There’s plenty more, including discussions for each of the five categories.  Take a look; see if there’s anything you can…well, learn.

“Talking to self” image adapted under a CC license from a photo by Leeni! / Kathleen.

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Talking about live backchannels recently led to talking about feedback, which is good (in my view).  It’s feedback that offers the chance not to change, which was the first word trying to get in as I wrote this, but to decide. As in, decide whether to change or to keep on doing what you’re doing.

The difference?  Well, here are the basic steps of a process:

John Barley was a hero bold, of noble enterprise...

You can take the point-of-view elevator down (say, to the process for harvesting barley) or up (operating the Talisker distillery).  Processes go inside larger ones, link to others; an output here becomes an input there.

But you’re not getting the full picture.  You don’t know how you’re doing without feedback.  Thus items 7 and 9 on this diagram:

Looking for trouble?  A chart for examining performance

Item 9 on the diagram is feedback about the process (here’s how things are going).  You can see item 7 as both short-term and long-term feedback to the performer.  That’s the answer to “how’m I doing?”  (Sure, there’s crossover between the two, especially if it’s a single performer, but I was going for simplicity here.)

I talked recently with Dick Carlson about the backchannel.  He’s far more technically skilled than I am; he sometimes uses custom backchannel software in a session.  Each participate creates an anonymous ID (like, say, a favorite comic book character or root vegetable).  He displays the backchannel during the session, which means everybody gets to see when Granola&Grits says, “been there, declined the tshirt.”  Or when ParsnipAmazon says, “YES! ima usin this TODAY!”

Potential for an interesting bit of DIY research: do some sessions with the Veggie ID, others with name-based ID, then see if there’s discernable differences between the quality or quantity of feedback.  Okay, now, back to the post…

Not to say a backchannel is a requirement.  I have reservations, especially if most participants don’t have access to it–e.g., 60% lack devices to get to it. Shooting an anonymous remark into the stream is easier and potentially less intimidating than standing out by speaking up.

I’ve already said I’d be very distracted viewing a backchannel if I were presenting on my own.  Though on that topic, Aaron Silvers just today told me he found great value in reviewing a backchannel following a session he’d given.  During the session, he didn’t think he was doing that well, but what he saw in the stream afterward helped him see differently.

All of which is to say that software like Twitter is one way, not the way, to collect and retrieve feedback.  Which reminds me that collecting (storage) and retrieval (application) aren’t a bad way to think about the fundamentals of learning.

That’s my own “Looking for trouble?” chart.
My process diagram adapted from these CC-licensed images:
Ripening barley by net_efekt / Christian Guthier;
stills at the Lagavulin distillery by Freddie H / Frederique Harmsze;
glass of whisky by smiling_da_vince / Eelco.

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Cammy Bean, on her Learning Visions blog, summarized a live session by Brent Schlenker.  Brent’s topic:  “Marketers and Game Developers Know More about Learning than We [learning design folks] Do.”

Both Cammy’s post and the extended comments are worth reading; I’m going off on my own, starting with Brent’s notion that we need to move from “event-based learning” (the course, whether classroom or e-learning) to “learning campaigns.”

He contrasts what corporate learning does with what corporate marketing does.  Marketing is about a campaign, “a series of events/operations/continuing storyline.”  A learning campaign, he suggests, is not about t-shirts and email blasts (the latter always strikes me as both offensive and fatheaded).  “It’s about providing more ways for learners to engage with and accent content.”

That’s part of the mind shift for corporate learning: it’s not about getting the word out, if the word is mostly “we’ve got these courses, this elearning, the fabulous LMS.”  Sometimes the message received is: “We’ve got lots of ways to consume your time while distracting you from your real job.”

If I quibbled with Brent, it’d be about the statement, “Marketing brings in the money.”  I think marketing brings in the attention.  But the entire organization–product development, sales, production, customer service–has to deliver on that attention in order to bring in the money.  Or at least to bring it in more than once.

Take the Starbucks campaign for VIA Ready Brew.  If your local area has paved roads and indoor plumbing, you’ve probably experienced part of the marketing campaign around “100 percent natural roasted arabica coffee in an instant form that is rich and full bodied just like a fresh-brewed cup.”  But have you tried it?

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I say “quibble” because I think both Brent and Cammy would agree with this: the concept of campaign aligns well with the idea of an overall performance system.  People who know about communications will tell you that your web site isn’t a brochure; it’s one way that your organization talks with people.  And before you decide on the colors and the layout, you need to think about who those people are and how the conversations might go.

So: corporate learning is about identifying skills people need but don’t have, skills that connect clearly to results that those people and their groups need to produce.  And the learning must not only engage (a far better word than “entertain”); it must do so in a way that isn’t divorced from my real work.

“Campaign” entered English some 300 years ago, referring to large military operations in a geographic area.  In other words, not the Big Idea at headquarters, but theory-meets-practice on the front line.  A successful learning campaign, whatever it looks like, clearly knows the territory.

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Stephen Downes recently posted a detailed essay on “21st century skills,” An Operating System for the Mind. He’s asking whether and why a common core of knowledge is necessary, and whether students ought to be tested on that core.

Downes is thorough–copied into Word, the post comes to eight single-spaced pages. I wanted to read it and follow what he’s saying, which explains this post. If things aren’t clear here, blame me.  Then, read Stephen’s original for yourself.

The bottom line: while factual knowledge is helpful, certain key skills are essential; they are a kind of operating system for the mind, which can then work with data from the outside world.

What’s at the core?

Fact stackBy “core knowledge,” he’s talking about a body or collection of things that provide the basics in a given field (e.g., you “need to know about bones to study medicine”).  He’s not saying you can’t teach (or learn) facts; learning facts is “the great shortcut in human development.”  And in order to do anything, you need to know stuff.

The question is, why these specific facts? In other words, is there a common core?

Downes says that facts learned as facts (like the multiplication tables) are a kind of direct programming, the sort of thing that remains unquestioned.  And, frankly, facts aren’t enough.

It’s not just the facts, ma’am

Here’s my summary of his six main reasons that an education based strictly and solely on facts is insufficient:

  • Too many facts: you can’t learn them all, so you have to know how to find them.
  • Facts aren’t fixed: things change, and we need to learn, to “change the previously existing state of our knowledge.”
  • Some facts matter more: we have to select and filter so that we can decide what facts are important to ourselves and to others.
  • Calling something a fact doesn’t make it one: we need to compare and assess things presented as facts.  (For example, I have no interest whatsoever in any “facts” proving that the earth is less than 10,000 years old.)
  • Some facts invite acts: we need skills to decide whether the facts we have are something we should act on, and the sense that we can by acting create new facts.
  • Facts aren’t capabilities: Beyond seeing the possibility of acting, we need the ability to act.

The flip side of these insufficiences, for Downes, becomes a summary of so-called 21st-century skills.  I like that there’s nothing about multi-tasking or hardware infrastructure or evolutionary changes to the brain in them.  They’re stated in more general terms, and could have applied a century ago.

So what’s different?

President Kennedy said at a 1962 dinner for Nobel laureates:

I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered together at the White House, with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone.

But that was 47 years ago, and 28 years before the world’s first web server.  We’ve got more facts and less static facts all the time.  (Remember how science “knew” that stomach ulcers were caused by stress?)  Beyond knowing what’s new and what’s changed, we have to cast a wider net.  Here Comes Everybody is not just a book title–it’s a new form of input.

Persona, a facet of the personalityDownes argues we also have new types of knowledge and skill, and that more of us need to use them every day.  (Baby Boomers are sometimes uneasy when they read “email is for old people.”)

Consider also the skills needed to manage just your professional presence and reputation.  That used to be done almost exclusively on paper and in person.  Now you’ve got networking sites, blogs, personal domains, avatars… your “online self” is a sort of conceptual clown car, with all sorts of characters inside.  Good thing we have so many more ways to do that.

Downes says, in part, that the role of facts is decreasing as the need for dynamic skill increases:

People need such greater capacities in literacy, learning, prioritizing, evaluation, planning and acting.

Facts: they don’t compute

Downes has an extended, useful comparison between these skills and the way we use computers.  To vastly oversimplify, other than its operating system, a computer doesn’t know anything.  (I tend to say it’s dumb as a rock but fast as hell.)  “If we had…programmed into [the computer] the knowledge of finances, literature, and mathematics, it would have been a less useful computer.”

That’s why, when we design computers, first we build the hardware, then we install the operating system, then we install application programs, and only then do we add the data – the facts with which we expect our computer to work.

The same principle applies in education and learning.

Take driving, for example. If our knowledge of how to drive depended on a set of facts, then at a certain point it would become impossible, because while we could teach people how to drive on common streets and in common situations, as we drive further and further away from home, in newer and different vehicles, our knowledge becomes less relevant, until eventually we are simply unable to drive. If, instead of focusing on the ‘facts’ of driving, we think of driving as an activity or skill, then we are able to adapt, and develop new abilities, and new knowledge, mastering the ability to drive in strange places as we progress.

…which is why Downes sees 21st-century skills as an operating system for the mind.

What the new operating system does

These skills enable us to navigate, to see, to understand, and to make our own decisions.  More important, says Downes, they change how we see facts.

To me, this is like the old view of the atom as an indivisible particle.  A fact is a thing, it’s true, it’s “real.”  Downes argues that “our relation with facts is much more contingent than previously supposed.”  (His italics.)

  • Facts are not independent of how they’re expressed. Literacy means reading the lines, and between the lines, but also “reading faces, photos, ideas, omens, and portents.”
  • Facts change. That’s a fact.  The earth isn’t the center of the universe.  Solid rock isn’t solid.

nobody
belongs anywhere
even the
Rocky Mountains
are still
moving
— George Bowering

  • Some facts are salient, some aren’t. There’s no one set of facts that’s important to everyone.
  • You can learn to tell fact from non-fact. Detecting deception (or, I think, error, or misrepresentation) is a skill, Downes says, “and you need just as much as your computer needs to be able to detect malware.”
  • You’ve gotta decide. This point is key: decision-making isn’t rote performance, which means it’s not based solely on facts.
  • You need to act. That action depends on skill much more than on a big ol’ heap of fact.

To be a man is to be responsible: to be ashamed of miseries you did not cause; to be proud of your comrades’ victories; to be aware, when setting one stone, that you are building a world.

—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

I’m skillful enough to let Downes finish for himself:

We still to a great degree treat facts as things and education as the acquisition of those things. But more and more, as our work, homes and lives become increasingly complex, we see this understanding becoming not only increasingly obsolete, but increasingly an impediment.

Today…if you simply follow the rules, do what you’re told, do your job and stay out of trouble, you will be led to ruin. It’s like sitting on a log floating in a river: it works for a while, and seems like the safest place to me, but all the while, you’re approaching a waterfall. Whether it be a financial crash, the degradation of the environment, war and terrorism, or even something as simple as a car accident or family crisis, you will need more and more the ability to keep yourself afloat in troubled and rapidly changing circumstances, and an abundance of facts will not help you, it will instead sweep you over the waterfall.

CC-licensed images:
Rolodex cards by mrbill;
facets of faces by Axel Bührmann.

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I’ve already mentioned David Sousa’s How the Brain Learns, but I keep going through it and thought it deserved a little more exposure.

Sousa’s writing for teachers (including college and university faculty), along with principals and staff development folks. Almost everything here offers value for the corporate trainer or instructional designer, in terms of more structured learning

A lot of makes sense for less formal learning as well.

It’s clear from the outset that Sousa does what he encourages you to do.  By the time you get to page 9 (there are 300 pages), he’s nudging you to do more than just read:

One of the best ways to assess the value of the strategies suggested in this book is to try them out in your own classroom or in any other location where you are teaching. conducting this action research allows you to:

  • Gather data to determine the effectiveness of new strategies and affirm those you already use,
  • Acclaim and enhance the use of research in our profession, and
  • Further your own professional development.

Besides which, he says, you get feedback on how you’re doing (as an instructor or designer), and you can collaborate with your peers to apply the research more broadly or more deeply.

So, what’s he offering?  The chapter titles are clear:

  1. Basic Brain Facts (parts, development)
  2. How the Brain Processes Information (models and their limitations)
  3. Memory, Retention, and Learning
  4. The Power of Transfer (both transfer during learning and transfer after learning)
  5. Brain Specialization and Learning (lateralization, spoken language, learning to read)
  6. The Brain and the Arts
  7. Thinking Skills and Learning
  8. Planning for Today and Tomorrow

Each chapter includes a section called Practitioner’s Corner. These are short, focused sections to help the teacher (trainer, learning professional) move stuff off the pages and into her repertory of skills.  For chapter 3 (memory, learning, retention) there are ten practitioner’s corner items.  They range from “avoid teaching two very similar motor skills” to “strategies for block scheduling” to “using rehearsal to enhance retention.”

I’ve actually felt a little intimidated by How the Brain Learns. I look at what Sousa’s done and think “I ought to be doing my own action research.”  I ought to create and document not only some successes from what I’ve done–but make those potential resources for future clients and coworkers.

  • What am I trying to do?  What’s telling me to try it?
  • What difference will it make?  How can I tell?
  • What difference did it make?
  • What do I do now?  What can I do better?  What’s telling me that?
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