Sleepless in cyberspace

It was interesting to see that many of my students identified with some of the 'symptoms' of computer dependency presented in the slideshow below. It got me thinking - how many of us are dependent to any extent on the technology we carry around with us? Computer dependency (not the same thing as 'addiction'), is defined as 'relying on computers to fulfill a need or compulsion'. Dependency manifests in many ways, from mild to severe. Have you ever for example been without your mobile phone or other device for a period of time and suffered 'withdrawal symptoms'? Have you ever started to become anxious that you are missing out on conversations on Twitter, or status updates from your friends on Facebook? Ever started to worry about all the emails that might be piling up, because you haven't been online for a few hours? Or days? Or weeks? Read more about computer dependency in this excellent post from one of my students, Christopher Nesbitt.

I once went on holiday to a very warm, overseas destination and deliberately left all my devices at home (except one mobile phone to be used in emergencies only). I wanted to find out if I could survive without them for two weeks. For the first day or two I thought a lot about what I might be missing online. I wondered whether people had left comments on my blog. I thought about what text messages or calls I might be missing. What would people think of me if I didn't reply? I worried about the huge backlog of emails I would have to deal with when I returned home. For the first two days, this obsessions was a little uncomfortable. Then gradually, I began to relax, and although I still thought about my online life periodically, I enjoyed my holiday, and we never had cold turkey for lunch.

Sleepless in Cyberspace? from Steve Wheeler

There are several psychological theories that can be applied to help us understand the phenomenon of computer dependency. Many of them are represented in the slideshow on this page. For example, Julian Rotter's locus of control theory may explain some of the discomfort we experience when we feel we have lost control over our online lives. Lack of access to an internet enabled device for a period of time might give you feelings of detachment from the 'flow' of the discussions and social connections you normally enjoy. When my daughter's phone was stolen, I remember her being upset to the point of feeling bereaved. She tearfully told me she had 'lost all her friends'. When I pointed out that no-one had actually died, she told me I didn't understand. All of her friends contact details were in the memory of her phone, and she felt she had lost contact with them all. She had lost control of her social life. Find out more about your own locus of control by completing this online quiz.

Another theory relating to computer dependency is Leon Festinger's cognitive dissonance theory. When you spent far more time online than you know you should - perhaps you are engrossed in an online game, and can't stop until you reach that very difficult next level - and know that you should be spending more time with your family, do you rationalise that you will 'make it up to them'? Do you make other excuses to justify the amount of time you spend online? According to Festinger, this is the result of cognitive dissonance - where a conflict of beliefs can be 'resolved' by a form of rationalisation - usually excuse making that justifies doing what you know is bad for you. Addicts and gamblers do this a lot. Smoking causes lung cancer, but although it affects other smokers, it will never happen to me. I have lost a lot of money tonight on Blackjack, but my next bet will win me back all I have lost.

The implications of computer dependency can be quite profound. All teachers need to be aware that some children may be computer dependent, and may spend inordinate amounts of time online at home chatting or gaming when they should be getting on with their homework, or sleeping. It's a fine balance between using technology to benefit our lives, and becoming slaves to the routine and ritual of online life.

Photo by Ben Andreas Harding


Sleepless in cyberspace by Steve Wheeler is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Just an illusion?

The study of human perception is not easy, but it can be a lot of fun. How do we know for example, that we all represent reality in the same way? How do I know that my perception of the colour blue is the same as yours? We can't really know for certain. Human perception has its limitations, and we can be highly suggestible. Human perception is absolutely fascinating, and studying the processes by which we represent reality through our senses is completely engaging. Some of my digital literacy students discovered how thoroughly absorbing it can be to learn about perception this week. I took them on a brief tour of cognitive processes, including the human senses, memory and recall, and the representation of reality through perception. I showed how these processes connect up into cognitive architectures, through an analysis of the biological, psychological and physiological.

I showed them some optical illusions and got them to solve some lateral thinking problems. Then I demonstrated for them the most dangerous thing I have ever done in a live classroom setting. It involves a full can of baked beans and my index finger. It is quite stressful for all concerned, especially me, because if I get it wrong, I can severely damage my hand. (I might never play the guitar again!) I ask the students to decide whether what they are seeing is actually an illusion, or reality. The video of a previous demonstration is below:


I also showed them a video of the American illusionist David Copperfield disappearing the Statue of Liberty in front of a live audience. It is an astounding trick, and fools just about everyone who sees it. The video of the stunt, below, is absolutely breathtaking to watch, and full of showmanship, as you would expect from David Copperfield (no relation to the Charles Dickens character of the same name). I then told the students how it was done, and it all seemed just a little more mundane. I wasn't trying to ruin the magical effect of the illusion, merely showing them that much of life - just like all of the so called 'magic tricks' we see on our TVs - can be illusory, and many surprising phenomena can actually be explained rationally.



What teachers do in the classroom is a little like the illusionists. They not only perform in front of an audience, but there are elements within their act that can change students' perceptions of reality. What is it to have to unlearn and relearn something? It can be difficult to accept that you have been proved wrong, when you have believed something for so long. What happens to a child's confidence when they are told they are absolutely brilliant at doing something? And what would be the result if several 'average' children were singled out as 'very bright' students and then lavished with attention and praise? The latter actually happened in an experiment conducted by the psychologists Robert Rosenthal and Lenore Jacobson in the late 1960s, and was subsequently known as Pygmalion in the Classroom (after the George Bernard Shaw play in which a street urchin was transformed into a socialite). The illusion was that the children were chosen at random (usually with average IQ scores) but were hailed as 'highly intelligent'. The reality was that when the researchers returned to measure progress, the singled out children had indeed improved their IQ scores, and had risen above the rest of the class to become the highest achievers.

The effect of teachers believing that certain students are bright, whilst others are less intelligent often results in a self-fulfilling prophecy. The representation of the illusion becomes a reality, and the children who are considered bright, achieve more highly than those who have been told they are less bright. This is a salutary lesson for all teachers. Your decisions will shape the destiny of your students. When students are made to feel intelligent and capable, that is what they become. Are you changing illusions into reality?

Photo by Ian Stannard


Just an illusion? by Steve Wheeler is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

PLN or CoP?

Type "PLN and CoP" into Google, and you're likely to be redirected to a currency conversion site (PLN is the abbreviation for Polish Zloty and COP stands for Columbian Pesos). That's quite an apt result because Google and many of the other large, supposedly 'free' social media tools are very much focused on making money to sustain their operations. But this post is not about money. Nor is it about the morality of social media companies. But it is about making connections for learning through the 'free' tools we have at our disposal - social media.

In the context of this post, PLN stands for Personal Learning Network, and CoP stands for Communities of Practice. PLNs have been described as informal networks of people one specifically interacts with within their personal learning environments. From a connectivist perspective, PLNs can emerge through our often random and serendipitous connections with others whom we encounter on the Web. Communities of Practice are described as groups of people who share a common interest and can be instrumental as a network within which learning can take place because of the critical mass of contributions from the group's members.

PLNs and CoPs sound so similar, we could be forgiven for thinking that they are more or less synonymous. A quick search reveals that not a lot has been written about the juxtaposition of the two. Little if any research seems to have been conducted into a comparison between them. Are PLNs and CoPs therefore one and the same? After all, both involve learning, both represent the interactions between individuals who have similar interests, and both exhibit personalised activities positioned at the heart of a rich social context. Yet if we examine the theories behind the two concepts, we see there are some subtle differences. Let me give you my perspective:

One of the key differences I see between the two is that in PLNs, connections can be fairly random and interactions largely informal. Often there is a common ground such as a mutual interest or shared concern, but generally those who make up my PLN are a fairly ad hoc group of friends, colleagues, family and also those who have casually connected with me either through my instigation or theirs. In CoPs, connections are generally more deliberate, focused upon practice, often of a professional nature, and the interactions are focused largely upon the shared business of that community of practice.

Secondly, according to Lave and Wenger, for a CoP to exist, there needs to be a domain of expertise. The domain needs to be shared, and it needs to be formalised. A CoP is rarely a loose, informal network of friends, but instead exists as a central resource where community members learn more about their common expertise and can share, manage and disseminate their understanding for the greater benefit of the entire community. PLNs can be less focused, made up of disparate kinds of people spread across an entire spectrum of abilities, competencies and domain expertise.

Finally, CoPs are usually something you subscribe into. You work your way inwards by way of legitimate participation from the periphery to the core of your community of practice, as you become more expert in the domain your CoP specialises in. Conversely, in your PLN, you are at the centre of the group from the outset. It is your personal network developed by you and for you, and you decide on the membership. All the other members are potential resources that support your learning, as you develop connections with them and gain access to their knowledge.

That's my interpretation of the differences between Personal Learning Networks and Communities of Practice. How do they differ from yours?

Photo by Steve Wheeler


PLN or CoP? by Steve Wheeler is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

The meaning of pedagogy

Yes, the Ancient Greeks used tablets!

Following on from my recent posts on praxis and the meaning of education, here are a few thoughts on pedagogy. If you ask someone what a pedagogue is, they are likely to reply 'a teacher'. One fairly limited definition of the word pedagogue is: a school teacher. Another less kind definition suggests that pedagogues are people who instruct in a dogmatic or pedantic manner. We seem to have many views on the nature of pedagogy and how it is conducted. Unfortunately, these often lead to confusion. To gain a clear understanding of pedagogy, we first need to examine the origin - the etymology - of the word.

The word pedagogy has its roots in Ancient Greece. Rich families in Ancient Greece would have many servants (often slaves), one of whom would be specifically tasked to look after the children. Often these slaves would lead or escort the children to the place of education. The Greek word for child (usually a boy) is pais (the stem of this is 'paid'), and leader is agogus - so a paid-agogus or pedagogue was literally a leader of children. Later, the word pedagogue became synonymous with the teaching of our young. Taken in this context, we would probably all agree that pedagogy is about children's education. And yet this confines us to a very limited understanding of what pedagogy is, or has the potential to become.

If we take the principle of 'leading or guiding someone to education' (which in my last post I identified as deriving from the Latin word educere - 'to draw out from within), then we open up a whole new world of possibilities for learning. It's a well known aphorism - teachers teach, but educators reach - and also a principle that is at the very heart of true pedagogy. True pedagogy is far more than someone instructing. Pedagogy is leading people to a place where they can learn for themselves. It is about creating environments and situations where people can draw out from within themselves, and hone the abilities they already have, to create their own knowledge, interpret the world in their own unique ways, and ultimately realise their full potential as human beings. It's certainly not about absolutes, but is more likely to be about uncertainties. Good pedagogy is about guiding students to learning. It's about posing challenges, asking the right questions, and presenting relevant problems for learners to explore, answer and solve. True pedagogy is where educators transport their students to a place where they will be amazed by the wonders of the world they live within.

As one ancient Greek philosopher Socrates once said: 'Wisdom begins in wonder.'

Photo from Wikimedia Commons


The meaning of pedagogy by Steve Wheeler is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone!

We use a lot of words in education without really understanding what they mean. Take the word 'education' for example. Education is often associated with schooling, but to assume that the two are one and the same would be a serious error. When Pink Floyd sang 'we don't need no education' what they really should have said was 'we don't need no schooling' (although it wouldn't have fit into the tune quite as well). Education, if experienced in its pure form, is liberating, mind-expanding, essential. Often, schooling fails to do that for children. School for many is about uniformity, standardisation and synchronisation of behaviour. Schooling is the industrial process children are put through by the state to ensure they become compliant to authority, inculcated into the skills of reading, writing and numeracy, and systematically instructed (and then tested) about the world about them. They are batch processed by age, their behaviour is managed, their performance is scrutinised, and there is little time for self expression. One size has to fit all.

This is not education. It's indoctrination. A closer examination of the origins of the word 'education' will reveal that it comes from the Latin word educere, which means to draw out or to lead from within. What does this mean? If you are a teacher, you will know that you can either instruct from the front, or you can take a backseat and create opportunities for your students to learn for themselves. It's a choice each teacher makes, and over a period of time, it has consequences. Swiss psychologist Jean Piaget once declared:

"Each time one prematurely teaches a child something he could have discovered for himself, that child is kept from inventing it and consequently from understanding it completely." (1)

To draw out a child from within themselves, we must first accept that the child has something within them to give. Every child has something unique to offer. Each has skills, abilities, knowledge, hopes, aspirations and individual personalities that can be nurtured, allowed to blossom, encouraged. Teachers who ignore this will not only fail to 'draw out' those individual attributes, they will also deprive children from a wonderful spectrum of opportunities to learn for themselves.

Whether children learn for themselves, or are instructed, depends on each teacher's personal philosophy on education. Does education for them mean schooling, or 'drawing out from within'? Most teachers probably take the middle ground and oscillate between instruction and facilitation of learning. Yet if they are honest, most teachers will admit they default to the instructional mode when they need to control behaviour, or 'get through' the content of the lesson.

Here's the bottom line: In its purest form, education is about drawing out the learner from within themselves, giving them space to express themselves, explore and play, ask the 'what if?' questions and learn in their own style and at their own pace. State funded schooling cannot and will not provide the flexibility for this kind of education to be realised. Friedrich Nietzsche once said: 'In large states education will always be mediocre, for the same reason that in large kitchens the cooking is usually bad.' The best we can hope for within the present industrial school system is that each teacher will be agile enough to interpret the curriculum that is imposed upon them in ways that offer children enough latitude to learn for themselves.  A question all educators need to ask is: Are we keeping them inside themselves, or are we drawing them out from within?

Next post: The meaning of Pedagogy

Reference
(1) Jean Piaget, quoted in the Early Years Development Framework for Child Care Centres, Ministry of Community Development, Youth & Sports, Republic of Singapore, 2011, p 9.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons


Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone by Steve Wheeler is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.