Clutter

My colleagues and I have been writing learner reports this week. We follow convoluted procedures to ensure no parts are missed. The process is to provide effective feedback.

I reminded myself of the complexity of it all by sneaking a look at instructions that were circulating the office. The directions were clear, linear and easy to follow.

But I had a busy confusion going on in my head as I read them.
I was looking at a block of text that filled a page.

Balance of objectives

In the days when printed instruction was it, squeezing as much text and other information as possible onto a page met some objectives. There is merit in only one page of instruction. Selecting a smaller font-size was a trick I’d seen for ‘getting it all onto one page’.

But at that time, the Science and Art of developing easy-to-follow learner instruction was well known by experienced educators. They knew that ease-of-reading and learner-interest didn’t necessarily follow when information was packed so tightly into a page that you couldn’t put your finger down on bit of white space.

Extremists

White space became a prerequisite for a ‘good looking’ page of instruction. Born out of the look and colour of a blank sheet of plain A4, the ‘white space’ practice was carried, almost to extremes, by some writers and designers who actually shunned text – minimalists who’d trim even a brief, well written instruction.

Margins were widened, headers and footers were deepened.
Text quantity was limited per page.

Tricks and impressions

One trick often used, when no more text culling could be performed on an important block of text, was to emulate the impression of white space by selecting a very pale font colour.

In this way, otherwise unwanted text could be merged into the background. Of course, it defeated the purpose of providing instruction, for it was almost impossible to read.

No, I’m not knocking white space. It works well when used properly.
It lends itself to good web design and elearning resource design. The look and form of a blog post page can even be improved by applying it.

Techniques I’ve found that reduce the busy look of a page of text are:

• short paragraphs – most readers find spaces between small blocks of text easier on the eye
  
  
• double space around blocked text or images – an image can be aesthetically framed by a border of text-free space; the effect is more pleasing and restful on the eye
  
  
• brief subheadings – these create chunks of text-free space by default.

You may have other techniques for improving the look of a page.

Why not share some of them here?

November

It’s New Zealand’s last month of spring for 2009.

When I started blogging, one of the things I became attuned to was the sheer upside-downness of the rest of the world – compared to where I live, that is.

In the first few months, it was customary for me to wait overnight for the wave of blog comments to wash across a new post from countries other than those in the South Pacific, if it happened at all.

Most activity I observe on my blog takes place after daylight. Of course, there are always exceptions. There are nocturnal bloggers throughout the world and some who seem to be active 24/7!

Unsurprisingly, most people do not consider the time zones across the world when it comes to blogging. Last year I posted a Middle-earth time widget in my side-bar to help with this.

The academic year

There is as much disparity of alignment across the world when considering the education cycle. How many countries can enjoy an academic year that begins in January or early February and finishes in December? How many countries can claim that the (actual) year starts and finishes in summer?

The upside-downness prevails when reflecting on the seasons. While Canada was in summer New Zealand was steeped in mid-winter. Now, as Kiwiland warms towards summer, starting officially on 1 December, Britain chills into winter.

I receive regular communication from people overseas who are amused and surprised at the seasonal differences – till they think about the global cycles. It’s not something that can be easily summarised in a chart, for the seasons in each country progress and change.

video of northern hemisphere seasons (check out amazing videos)

November in New Zealand starts me dreaming of summer.

The hazy balmy days have come in fast,
A garden-loose late-blooming tulip yawns,
Limp petals soft from drooping roses cast,
And daisies flourish on the feathered lawns;
A cicada wakes from the nymphal sleep
Then sheds the fragile nut-brown pupal shell,
And so begins its steady skyward creep
To chant the long percussive choric spell;
The karo's darkened pods crack and expose
The cloying seed in clusters set to fall,
A blackbird swoops down keen to interpose
And sing his warbling chronicle to all;
With these the days I long for have begun,
The warm and lazy summer days of sun.

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Remember, Remember

Remember, remember,
The 5^th of November,
The gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.

Tonight is Guy Fawkes Night in New Zealand – and it will be Guy Fawkes Night in several countries on this day – potentially a fun night for most children and adults.

The history of its origin has been well documented.

The scene is a cellar, directly underneath the House of Lords (Parliament) London, early in the morning of 5 November, 1605.

In a few hours, King James VI/I, the British Parliament and many dignitaries will be in attendance for the opening of Parliament. Having learnt of a rumour of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, the King has ordered a check of the cellars to be executed this morning.

Guy (Guido) Fawkes is quietly leaving the cellar, having just completed his undertakings and last minute checks on dozens of barrels of gunpowder, laid all set to explode in a couple of hours. Fawkes is apprehended by the guards and the stockpile of gunpowder is discovered.

Further investigations reveal that Fawkes and several of his accomplices had attempted to destroy Parliament in what is now known as the Gunpowder Plot.

The outcome of the trial that ensued in January the following year brought Fawkes and his cohorts to the gallows. The King ordered that the event be celebrated by burning fires all over the kingdom.

And so a tradition began for a customary annual celebration.

What intrigues me is the fierce adherence to the Guy Fawkes tradition in New Zealand, a country that is now colonised by many nationalities. What is more intriguing is that a significant portion of people who celebrate ‘Guy Fawkes’ in that country have no knowledge of the origin of this almost pagan custom. Many simply refer to the celebration as Fireworks Night.

What is even more astonishing is that it’s nearly summer in New Zealand at this time of the year. Skyrockets and exploding firecrackers (or bangers) are already banned as they are a fire hazard. It’s not uncommon for dwellings (predominantly of wooden construction in NZ) to be burnt to the ground or large areas of bush and scrub to be razed over the ‘fireworks’ season. In its country of origin, Britain, the tradition takes place during winter when there is a low fire risk.

Legislation already restricts the sale of fireworks to a brief period in November. There have been several moves in recent years to ban the sale of fireworks for use at private celebrations in favour of public municipal firework displays.

My family watch the city display from our living room window. The whole sky is lit with pyrotechnics over a period of half an hour.

Interesting isn’t it, that the fun aspect of a bygone, almost forgotten celebration should so fiercely dictate how people choose to conduct themselves? For me, a shift to a suitable mid-winter date seems obvious as a first move towards safer fun for all.

Enjoy the fireworks!

The Ubiquitous Question – a reflection on learning

“. . . unless you speak up... you will not be learning . . .”

Judy Jacob’s comment on Working With Online Learning Communities

I often wonder if our current education systems drive us to make invalid assumptions about how learning happens. I’m talking about educators here, not necessarily members of their learning communities.

Curious though it may seem, I learnt lots as I bumbled my way through high school. Not because I was especially able or bright.

I had an annoying knack of being outspoken when I couldn’t understand things. I hated not knowing what was going on. I asked questions.

The teaching moment

Fortunately, I had good teachers. They recognised the teaching moments that I presented to them – on a plate. I gained the respect of my teachers, probably solely because of this attribute of asking questions, for I certainly wasn’t a model student.

Good teachers admire learners who ask pertinent questions. It makes them feel wanted. Hence their intolerance of impertinence, I guess.

Asking a question offers a teacher the opportunity to fulfil that so-often-difficult-to-attain goal of the pedagogue. The goal is to teach relevantly. While it’s true that learners tend to engage more in learning when they interact during a ‘lesson’, I’m not so sure that speaking up or even asking a question is necessarily exclusive for learning to occur.

Questions and answers

One dated definition of education is ‘the ability to learn from a book’
(this implies the educated is still learning). You can’t ask a book a question. Today, we like our educated learners to learn from the Internet, using searches, networking and the like.

It’s presumed that these media permit the learner to ask questions. And the belief persists that asking a question – or even just speaking up – is so very necessary for learning to occur.

I’ve always thought of thinking as a stream of thought statements and questions, asked and possibly answered in the mind. My assumption is that a thinker asks questions of herself or himself and that’s what initiates further thinking.

Lying in bed, just awake, on a Saturday morning, having no plan pending for the unfolding day, my thoughts might go something like this:

“Shall I get up now? Or will I just lie here blissfully embalmed in the cosy bedding for half an hour?

I wonder what the weather’s like? Perhaps I could get the garden dug? Or maybe give the shed that coat of paint?

Ah, but isn’t it nice to lie in on a Saturday morning?”

This sort of discourse assists me to learn about how I feel. It can figure how the day that’s just beginning can become a part of my life. So yes, my assumption about asking questions still works. Even if I learn nothing of what’s happening outside my head, I can learn something about myself.

Assumptions on learning

So why do teachers assume that no learning happens without questions being asked? I think they are referring to what I call active questions, spoken or typed in a txt or email, or other such method of communication between two or more people. There is an assumption that the question has to be aired. But I am puzzled at how the idea fits with learning from a book.

It’s a point of view I’ve come across before, that of the lurker who never engages, never interacts and never asks questions. The inference is that the lurker never learns.

This is not the opinion of Nonnecke and Preece, who actually coined the phrase, Silent Participants for learners who lurk. They claim that learning can take place despite no participation from the learner. My own experience aligns with their research findings.

Etienne Wenger refers to community members who do not speak up as Legitimate Peripheral Participants. He recognises that learning happens even if the participation is only peripheral, that is to say the learners don't speak up.

Teaching, learning and assessment

Teachers are geared to assessment. Often they feel compelled to possess written evidence that a learner has reached an objective before they are convinced the objective has actually been learnt.

Assessment is forced participation on the part of the learner. Without engagement at the time of assessment, it could be construed that nothing can be achieved in an assessment test. Yet not achieving is hardy unequivocal evidence that learning hasn’t happened.

A principle upheld by designers of resources for distance learning is that if the student hasn’t been asked a question about a learning objective, and responds with the correct answer, the objective hasn’t been learnt. Prompting the learner to respond in this way gives the teacher an opportunity to record that learning has occurred. It tends to subscribe to the tick-box mentality, but at least it is a recordable event.

Questioning a way to learn

I’m not entirely opposed to the suggestion that questioning is a way to learn. Nor am I questioning the idea that learners will learn nothing if they don’t ask questions. My hunch is that questions are asked in the mind all the time. The trick of learning relevantly lies in asking the right questions.

A student who always has a question, and puts it, will learn. They can ask it out loud or online, to a teacher or to another learner. Or they can ask it in their own mind. As long as the learner keeps asking questions, there will be answers given in return and they can learn from those. This is especially the case if a learner knows a thing or two about metacognition, even if they don't know the word.

Do learners have to ask their questions directly? To a teacher, for instance? Do you think learners will not learn unless they speak up?

Or can they learn without asking questions?

What’s your take on learning and participation?

Expert by Appointment – media and ICT

We live in an age where ‘becoming an expert’ is just another turn of phrase. Despite research and the embracing of the results of this in several chapters of Gladwell’s Outliers, and in other similar books, expertise is looked on as being easily achievable.

You’ll be an expert in no time. You can pick it up as you go along.
In March 2007, MediaSnackers promoted these options in an advert, posted on YouTube, for a ‘research genius’ among other guru-types.
It indicates distinctly that “experience and qualifications are not essential” for any of the job offers.



I fit with the ideas that creativity, right attitude, an inspiring nature and professional mentality go a long way to assisting the activities of young up-and-coming pioneers. Certainly conformists and pessimists have their drawbacks, if innovation is where the job aspirations are at. I have no problem with all of those aspects of the brief.

The advertised positions are important to, and influential in contributing to the success of a new and growing organisation. The effectiveness of the training gurus and marketing managers in particular is key to this success. Yet there is nothing more likely to engender contempt in admirers or followers than the so-called expert who clearly demonstrates that he or she isn’t expert.

Or is this point of view outdated?

I support the youth of today. However, I wonder at the culture and attitude they may have picked up associated with the worth of experience and knowledge, and that they will carry these attitudes with them as they follow their careers. Is there something that I’m missing here?

Am I carrying the values and ideas of a bygone age?

The critical players certainly need technical know-how, marketing expertise, other skills and a basket of essential knowledge. Is it really the best way to launch our ships into future business space, building them as we go, having had no real experience in shipbuilding, resourcing or navigating? Am I so old-fashioned that I can’t see the potential that these new and innovative approaches have in reaching desired destinations?

Is it simply enough to sit back and marvel at the apparent successes of these approaches? I appeal for your assistance here, for I have been puzzled by these phenomena, and for many years now. It seems that they have become so numerous that I have no time to catch breath between instances of their occurrence.

What are your thoughts?

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