OER: It's Not the Size of the File, It's How You Use It #change11

Since 2001, MIT has been sharing their course content with the world, free of charge, as part of a project known as OpenCourseWare (OCW). According to a paper called "The Creation of OpenCourseWare at MIT," available in Week 7 of Change MOOC, MIT "currently publishes content for more than 1600 subjects," including syllabi, assignments, and audio and video files.

I enjoy their "About OCW" page, which makes some crucial points, including:

• OCW is not an MIT education.
• OCW does not grant degrees or certificates.
• OCW does not provide access to MIT faculty.

In other words: files, data, and course material do not an education make.

We have more information available to us than ever before. That means we need more teachers, not less. It means teachers are more important, not less. It means one-on-one time is more important, not....you guessed it....less.

It also means that teachers need to help their students navigate this flood of information. Organizing, managing, deciphering, and criticizing information are skills that need heightening in these times. The structures of information, including networks, file-sharing, feeds, and clouds, are just as important as the information itself. In this respect, I think Connectivism is a movement in the right direction.

The flood of information also means, paradoxically, that information is less important, that is, since information is cheap, readily accessible, and unstable. Acquiring information is easier and less expensive. Therefore, it is the novel expression or interpretation of information that really stands out. Creativity is a method of evolutionary survival.

I love the title of this MIT course: Remixing Shakespeare. Next semester my Intro to Literature students are going to rewrite a Shakespeare play into modern language. Doing so first requires understanding the original meaning. Bringing Shakespeare to live in the 21st century is a vital task, both for students and for Shakespeare.

#change11: Week 7 -- Open Educational Resources (OER)

I recently joined (late) Change MOOC and am picking up the discussion from Week 7 on Open Educational Resources. My own experience as an educator with OER is limited, though I have tried a few things: My Composition 1 class last summer used sections from the Flatworld Knowledge Guide to Writing. Check out their organization here.

Additionally, I encourage students to explore the resources shared on Google Scholar and Google Books, though I'm not sure these are entirely open, per say, since the educational institutions are not sharing them directly, but instead through a corporate entity. Maybe I'll find out the answer to that question after digging into Week 7.

Personally, I have used open source materials for creating slideshows and open source software for recording screen casts and mp3 lectures for students.

I am slowly working on a project to compile and curate all free texts and materials related to Romantic Poetry in order to build an online repository that can be used instead of, or in addition to, an expensive textbook that says Norton on it. I'm calling this project, "Old Dead White Guys Give it Away for Free." That probably won't be the final title.

Infinite Regress: What if Beavis and Butthead Watch Beavis and Butthead Watch Beavis and Butthead?

An infinite regress is a causal chain that extends forever.

Let's say A was caused by B, and B was caused by C, and C was caused by D, and so on. It doesn't stop at Z (no matter what Aristotle said). It keeps going infinitely. This can be illustrated by two mirrors facing one another, forming a trail that reflects inward toward infinity.

The revival of Beavis and Butthead is a bit like this.

MTV has resurrected the moronic duo for brand new episodes. At first glance, it seems as if very little has changed since you last sat on your couch to watch Beavis and Butthead sit on their couch. On the surface, it is the same show. Mike Judge still provides the voices. The animation is still crude and slow. The boys still burst into uncontrollable laughter at any possible sexually-suggestive word.

However, as the LA Times reports, this is not the same show. In fact, Beavis and Butthead are now watching Beavis and Butthead, or at least watching a series of dumb shows left in their wake:

The cartoon, which began in part as an ironic, idiotic but not inaccurate commentary on the network's original bread and butter — the music video — will now include among its targets movies, viral videos and the kind of shows that have come to represent MTV in the duo's absence, series like "Jersey Shore" and "16 and Pregnant." ("This would be a better show if they showed them actually getting pregnant.") What's odd is how nearly they resemble some of their new targets — "This guy looks like he might be stupider than us" — and how with the passing years they've come to sound less like snarky kids and more like grumbling old men: the Statler and Waldorf of their generation.

Compared to the dumb stuff that came after them (television programs that Beavis and Butthead no doubt paved the way for) the boys are now wise old men. Jersey Shore is indeed worse than Beavis and Butthead. The boys can no longer sink to the lowest level; they must rise above it.

And so now, we watch Beavis and Butthead watch television characters who are even less intelligent than they are. They've moved one level back into the infinite regress, or, perhaps, have taken one step back from the infinite regression of culture.

Think about this: the original Beavis and Butthead is responsible for the creation of Jersey Shore (a new low in the race to the bottom). Jersey Shore is responsible for the new Beavis and Butthead.

And so on.

Maybe this isn't an infinite regression. Perhaps it's a vicious cycle instead.

Education as Hero's Journey

A few days ago I asked, "Why Isn't School Fun?"

Forget that.

Fun is fun. It's cotton candy and throwing rocks at abandoned windows.

I meant "fun," instead, as a shorthand for "intrinsic motivation."

You see, "fun" is less "termy." (That's a word I just made up. Making up words is fun.)

I started reading Clayton Christensen's Disrupting the Classroom last night. The early pages present a familiar problem. Familiar to me, at least, after reading the work of Daniel Pink, Alfie Kohn, and Dan Ariely. All three have written popular works based on some confounding research.

Here's the short version: Intrinsic motivation leads to better results than extrinsic motivation, even if that extrinsic motivation takes the form of large quantities of cash.

This seems counter-intuitive, but is supported by a mountain of evidence. If you want good results in tasks that require problem-solving, critical thinking, and creativity, don't reward someone with cash or grades. They will do a worse job. (Explore the above authors if you need verification.)

(Insert sound of me dusting off my hands and making a face that says "Took care of that!")

Except that, well, now we have a bigger problem. How do we reform education systems that seem to exist as a monuments to extrinsic motivation (tests, grades, diplomas, jobs, money) in favor of encouraging intrinsic motivation? Can you teach intrinsic motivation? We're right back the Teacher's Catch-22 I wrote about here.

I will explore this some more in a future post, but one way, potentially, to make the switch from authority figure to....something else....is to reconfigure the educational experience into a model much more akin to Joseph Campbell's Monomyth. Here, a traveler receives an important call to venture forth into some compelling, mysterious problem. He or she encounters travails, yes, but also guides, mentors, helpers, Wise Old Women and Men. It seems, to me, that an education enhanced by the Internet is more likely to help travelers make these important connections while still maintaining important relationships at home base. More on this later.

"Chance Favors the Connected Mind"

I shared this RSA Animate video with my Writing for Business class last night. It's an over-simplified summary of Steven Johnson's amazing book Where Good Ideas Come From. Nonetheless, it makes an effective argument for pushing forward with MOOC's (without, of course, mentioning them by name).

Johnson's claim is that open spaces become the platform for the collaboration of fragmentary ideas. In his book, he explains how this is true of coral reefs, cities, and online networks. Given time and space to experiment, collaborate, and fail, new combinations will arise and thrive. It does feel as if we're nearing some kind of evolutionary moment in education. Perhaps we're already there. Strange hybrids are emerging.

Johnson's book concludes with an important observation: the vast majority of major innovations over the past four centuries are not the result of entrepreneurs going it alone. Instead, they come from collaborative public-sector experiments (mainly from universities). He refers to this space as the "fourth quadrant." Here he is writing in The New York Times:

And then there is what I call the “fourth quadrant”: the space of collaborative, nonproprietary innovation, exemplified in recent years by the Internet and the Web, two groundbreaking innovations not owned by anyone. [....]

The Internet is the ultimate example of how fourth-quadrant innovation actually supports market developments: a platform built by a loosely affiliated group of public-sector and university visionaries that has become one of the most powerful engines of wealth creation in modern times.

Why has the fourth quadrant been so innovative, despite the lack of traditional economic rewards? The answer, I believe, has to do with the increased connectivity that comes from these open environments. Ideas are free to flow from mind to mind, and to be refined and modified without complex business development deals or patent lawyers. The incentives for innovation are lower, but so are the barriers.

This sounds like Connectivism to me, and it sounds like a call for more public sector educators to jump into the water. (Unless we trust the sharks?)

College Summarized in 13 Words

I snapped this on my way to teach a class at Grand View University. It was part of an art display. Nonetheless, it smarts. I made myself feel better by whispering, "You forgot the period!"

Why Isn't School Fun?

Sometimes, at the start of a semester, I ask students, "If you had a choice, would you be taking this class?" They overwhelmingly say "No."

In many respects, it isn't a choice. It's an obligation. An obligation to seek a degree for a better job and higher pay. And English classes, for the most part, are taken to fill core requirements. You don't often get a student auditing composition or taking it as an elective. (Creative writing classes are different. More on that later.)

It makes me wonder, though, why so many people pay to take classes at the YMCA, or the art museum, or with some sports organization, freely giving up their personal time and money in order to submit to someone else's schedules and rules.

The answer is, I think, because it's fun. (Well, duh!)

But why isn't school fun?

Why isn't a writing class fun?

Is it impossible?

Will school always be boring?

Think back to a time when you've really enjoyed a class...it can be school-related or otherwise. Many people go to Bible Study, or yoga, or writing groups, or book clubs on their own time. They choose to go, receive no credits, and possibly even pay money to be there.

Why?

It's more than just fun. People want to grow and change. They want to become better people. They want to get better at something they love. This is the best sort of fun.

In fact, the most fun you'll ever have in life is when you're performing at a high level in some activity that suits your skills. This is sometimes referred to as a "Flow State" or "being in the Zone." The Zone is more than just fun...it's transformation. You become bigger, better, different.

We want fun and we want transformation and we want it now!

Anything less is boring and not worth our time.

In fact, the "merely fun" is boring. School shouldn't be fun. It should be beyond fun. Then we can lay off all the truant officers.

All of this is, of course, too much to ask. It's also the only thing worth asking.