Too Cool for School Revisited: Second Life in Higher Ed

Everything which is technique is necessarily used as soon as it is available without distinction of good or evil. This is the principal law of our age.” —Jacques Ellul, 1954

I just returned from Orlando, where I attended the Sloan-C International Conference on Online Learning, and can’t stop thinking about Ellul’s views on technology. While I can’t claim to be an expert on his seminal work The Technological Society, my take on him is that he believed the advancement and implementation of technology as inevitable, but that we can choose how we respond and adapt. In essence, tech is here, tech is staying, more tech is coming. What shall we do about it?

Ellul came to mind as I thought about the heated arguments against Second Life I heard at Sloan. Some people are angry—really angry—about the idea of Second Life in education. I found myself wondering what it is about Second Life that’s so threatening. Is it the learning curve? The time and money it takes to develop a viable presence in-world? Or maybe it’s the fear of losing an old and trusted way of teaching in the headlong rush to embrace the new and unproven. No matter. That Second Life and the technology it represents and exploits will be widely implemented in education despite our fears is given. How thoughtfully we’ll use this technology and to what ends are the things we should be researching and debating, not casting stones about in an attempt to forestall the inevitable.

I think I understand the objections some educators have to Second Life. It’s often difficult to point to a sound pedagogical reason for having a Second Life campus. It’s expensive to purchase, develop and maintain an island. It’s still relatively clumsy to navigate and interact in-world. It’s still more a novelty and a pleasant diversion than a proven learning tool. And just how do you justify the expenditure of resources for a virtual campus when your physical campus has its very real needs? Are we going to build virtual campuses just because students think Second Life is cool?

Well, yes. That’s exactly why we will. We will build institutions in Second Life because online learning students in the near future will demand it. They’ll insist on access to it for social connections and interaction and a palpable sense of user presence that smashes the psychological walls of distance; a presence, connection and interaction unmatched by cost per user or ease of use by any other technology currently available. We’ll build them to market our institutions, to strengthen our brands, to compete for students and prestige. We’ll build them for many of the same reasons we fund and field sports teams and build student unions and fitness centers for our on-campus students; because it adds to the social experience of higher education and because that experience has value in and of itself.

And we’ll build them because we must be prepared for the inevitable. The technology that Second Life exploits will become cheaper, more stable, easier to use and impossible to ignore. I’d bet that we’ll see some kind of 3D virtual environment incorporated into Blackboard et al within 5 years. Will we make creative use of its potential? Will we maximize its benefits and mitigate its drawbacks? If we use Second Life and its descendants merely to deliver the same old course content and methodologies, we’ll fail our students and ourselves. We need to think now about how we’ll use this technology, how we’ll exploit its strengths, and how we’ll create new learning methodologies and possibilities for experiences and connections. Second Life is here. The rise of the virtual campus is inevitable. Will we be ready?

Lessig’s Last Copyright Rant: How Creativity is Being Strangled by the Law

A friend sent me a link to a great twenty-minute speech by Stanford University Professor of Law Larry Lessig. The speech, “How Creativity is Being Strangled by the Law”, was filmed in March at the TED Conference but was posted just last month at the TED site. I’m posting it a bit late by blogging standards, but it’s a “better late than never” type of thing. It’s a must-see. A twenty-minute cultural moment, like Scorsese’s homage to Hitchcock.And even though many of you have seen this much-forwarded video already, I believe that Larry Lessig deserves as much bandwidth as possible. You won’t be disappointed with this presentation. Lessig is an incredibly engaging speaker who has gained a reputation of being quite a PowerPoint virtuouso. He’s passionate, incredibly brainy, and skilled at making an issue sound extremely pressing. Lessig gives a forceful speech about on how in our Internet-driven age, overly-restrictive control of copyright will truly stifle and stagnate creative expression in the youth today. Youth not only speak in a different way, but create and distribute knowledge in a completely different format. The older generation (music and movie execs included) need to stop and listen.

This presentation has some additional significance. This speech is probably the last public one Larry Lessig will probably ever give on this topic. In June, Lessig stated that he was shifting his academic focusfrom copyright and intellectual property issues to fighting the corruption that’s in the political process. As a founder of Creative Commons, an organization that helps artists, authors and scholars give others the freedom to adapt and build upon their works and improve their creativity without having to bring in any sort of legal counsel, Lessig has given creators a serious, concrete way to share information and build upon ideas without having the pressure and worry of the law breathing down their neck.I’m excited to see what Larry Lessig will be able to bring to the fight against political corruption. I hope he’ll speak with Jeff Tweedy regarding this cause. But I do know that there is still a lot of work to be done regarding Creative Commons, particularly at the higher educational level, where academic publishers seem to have their own stranglehold on creativity with their copyright regulations and such. But that’s a blog post for another day. Until then, enjoy the video. Share it. Remix it. Just don’t remix it with a Prince song.

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Kindle Doesn’t Light My Fire

If you haven’t heard, Kindle is Amazon.com’s new digital device that allows you to read books on the go. The device features a glare-free screen based on electronic paper technology. According to Amazon, the screen can be read even in bright sunlight and is as easy on the eyes as reading text on paper. In addition, Kindle can download books by connecting to Sprint’s high-speed wireless network, but it doesn’t require a monthly service plan because the data download fees are built in to the price of each book. Amazon also claims users can read thousands of pages before needing to recharge the device, and that the battery will last for about two days with its wireless network access left on.

Although Kindle offers some innovative features, I wouldn’t call it revolutionary. Sony has been attempting to bring ebooks into the mainstream for years with devices like the Reader and the Connect ebook delivery service. Smaller companies like HanLin have also tried to make a name for themselves in this market, but for the most part, their sales have been limited to early adopters in tech-hungry Asian markets. Of course, being the first isn’t nearly as important as being the best, as any iPod/iTunes fan will tell you. Although I think Amazon is on the right track, I don’t think Kindle is going to revolutionize how we read or how digital educational content is delivered—at least not right now. Here are a just a few reasons why it’s not making my Christmas list this year and why I don’t believe Kindle will be a hit with students and teachers, either:

Kindle costs $499. That’s comparable to the cost of an iPhone, a bargain-priced laptop, a long weekend in Vegas, or 4,000 packages of Ramen noodles.

Book downloads are around $9.99 a piece. Sure, a new hardcover is a lot more than 10 bucks, but a library card is free. Furthermore, on the rare occasion that I buy a pricey book, I expect it to be more than a stimulating read. I expect it to add a touch of class to my living room. (I find people don’t laugh as much at my Kelly Clarkson album collection when it’s sandwiched between Tolstoy and Nietzsche.)

Kindle is a one-trick pony. Say what you will about “convergent” devices being hard to use. I’ll compromise on usability if it helps me avoid uncomfortable backpack bloating. At the very least, I expected that Kindle would be able to store and display personal documents from programs like Microsoft Word. However, to do this, the Kindle promo video claims you must email files to your Kindle device (I’m still not sure how that works) and pay Amazon to convert them to a Kindle-compatible format.

Why Come to Class?

During a recent consulting session with an instructor about her upcoming blended-delivery course, our discussion turned toward which learning activities would best serve students when delivered online vs. those that would best serve students when delivered in the classroom.

It’s an interesting question: What unique learning attributes are contained in a room that—for a period of time—contains one instructor and a group of students?

When I ask faculty what they do in the classroom, the answer I most often receive first is that they “lecture” or “talk about the content” or “present information.” When pressed further faculty refer to other activities. “I watch students to see if they are paying attention,” or “I ask questions to see if they understand the material.” And then I begin to hear yet another group of activities that includes the following:

  • “We discuss the material.”
  • “Students meet in their project groups and I spend time with each group.”
  • “We do practice problems on the board.”
  • “We review the homework assignment.”

So, here are three things that happen in a face-to-face classroom: delivery of content, assessment of student engagement with the material, and guidance of student learning and performance.

Interestingly, when I ask faculty what they like most about teaching, rarely have I ever heard lecturing top the list. In fact, I’ve never heard that answer. What I usually hear are answers related to that last task. “I enjoy guiding students through the work of learning,” or “watching students get it,” or “seeing the ‘ah-ha’ moments.” I would guess that if we asked students what they enjoy most about learning, these moments would be high on their lists as well.

What if one could actually structure a course to include more of these teaching moments—these moments of guiding student learning?

Barbara Walvoord reported on this type of course in 2003. “I wanted to use my time not to deliver information, but to engage in discussion with students and respond to their writing, encouraging their development of sophisticated analytical skills and creativity.”

To accomplish this, she basically re-created her Shakespeare class as a hybrid course. Information and ideas were delivered via readings and by videos already owned by the library. The rather large course was broken up into several groups of approximately 18 students. Each group met with the instructor once a week for an hour of discussion. Students were held accountable for their weekly short assignments, notes on readings and the video presentations, and on their participation in discussion.

Every student spoke in class every week, wrote every week, and received personalized feedback from the instructor on drafts of essays. The drop rate for this section of the class was the same as that for other sections. All measures indicated a successful and rigorous learning experience for the students.

Walvoord’s framework may have been “faculty productivity”—a term that sets an educator’s teeth on edge, much like nails across a chalkboard. Yet, her process does result in that central joy of instruction. So, what is it that the instructor can uniquely bring to the classroom? Herself? Her feedback? Her ability to guide discussion?

Well, that is actually a large part of what happens when a course is re-designed for hybrid/blended delivery. Faculty time is focused on providing immediate feedback on performance and practice, engaging students in discussions around concepts and ideas, asking guiding questions about group or individual projects, and listening and responding to student presentations.

For more information, see the following resources:

Walvoord, B. (2003). New Modes of Productivity for Student Learning. New Directions for Higher Education, No. 121. 35-49.

Soft (Arts) vs. Hard (Sciences/Technology) Education: Imagination vs. Reason

Both the low marketability of arts degrees and the low salaries of arts educators in our society, when compared to the marketability of degrees and salaries of educators in science or technology topics, reflect an attitude towards the arts that sees them as accessories to our lives, good mainly for entertainment, pleasure, or escape. This attitude frequently undermines arts education funding and is, for some, due to the admitted difficulty non-artists and artists alike face when trying to assess success in arts education and production with measures that make sense to and can be appreciated by “non believers.”

Assessing arts education outcomes (Hanna, 2007)

To this end, Dr. Wendell Hanna (San Francisco State University) recently published a well-written and organized article on the applicability of the new Bloom’s taxonomy to arts education assessment [Hanna, W. (2007). “The New Bloom’s Taxonomy: Implications for Music Education.” Arts Education Policy Review, 108(4): 7-16.]. The first section of the article offers an insightful and concise outline of the significance of assessing music education outcomes and of the history and current state of Bloom’s taxonomy as an education-accomplishment assessment tool. It is followed by a meticulous and convincing (even if a little tedious at times) set of arguments for the way music education activities and national standards fit within the new Bloom’s taxonomy.

Hanna (2007) effectively accomplishes her principle goal, to show that:

Music education functions within and contributes to the same types of knowledge acquisition and cognitive processes, and its outcomes can be assessed using conceptually the same standards and tools as other educational areas that deal with topics traditionally more “respected,” “objective,” and widely accepted as beneficial to individual and social behavior and success.

Does “high assessment” translate to “high value?”

Whether the above conclusion can support claims for the need to keep music education in schools is not as clear to me as it seems to be to the author. Based on her concluding sections, Hanna seems more interested in promoting the usefulness of a new, uniform, and standardized assessment tool than she is in arguing for the general value of musical accomplishments. The goal of this assessment tool is to make communication of musical accomplishments among “music lovers” and between music lovers and non-music administrators easy, efficient, and consistent with concepts non-experts are familiar with. However, defending the value of music education in promoting the individual and social development of students is, in my opinion, a most pressing issue, as the way it is resolved will determine whether or not accomplishing the goal set in Hanna’s paper is of any consequence.

For example, even the process of systematically learning how to knit can be made to fit, to some degree or another, the knowledge acquisition and cognitive processes outlined by Bloom’s taxonomy. This offers us useful ways to assess what processes have been used and to what end and degree of success. Such an exercise, however, will not answer the question of whether the specific “end” in question is “valuable,” “respectable,” and useful to the individual and the society beyond the limited bounds of the activity itself. Algebra, biology, geometry, and all the other “respectable” educational subjects are not respectable simply because students end up learning how to solve equations or properly identify a frog’s internal organs. Rather, they are valued because of what one can contribute to society thanks to her advanced mathematical and scientific skills.

Precisely what these contributions may be is not made explicitly clear, but their value is implicitly accepted as being significant within our culture. On the other hand, what a student can contribute thanks to how well educated she is in music is even less clear and, largely, not accepted as valuable. It seems to me that, before one can appreciate how good a student has become in music and how consistently we can assess her accomplishments based on a standard tool, we must address the question, “Why should anyone become good in music?” The typical response: “for no good reason beyond entertainment and escape,” reveals an attitude that threatens to make efforts like Hanna’s ultimately inconsequential.

The cognitive significance of art & imagination vs. reason

In my opinion, the way to go is to systematically and convincingly argue for the cognitive significance of art in general and music in particular—a non-trivial task that is beyond the scope of the present post. To get things going, however, I would like to briefly assess the longstanding, conventional opposition between imagination and reason, which, I believe, is behind our difficulty to appreciate art’s cognitive significance.

Bear with me for one more paragraph, as I will be tracing an arguably problematic rational consequence of such opposition.

Common sense understands imagination as a mental activity that deals with things that are not really there. It is opposed to reason, which is consequently supposed to be dealing with things that are really there. At the same time, the observation that not all future events can be predicted based solely on past and present observations indicates that future things must include things that do not already belong to the past or present. If the future includes things that are not present (i.e. are not really there) or past (i.e. have never really been there) then reason, by definition, cannot address it. Such a limitation severely undermines the importance of reason to our lives, by stripping from it the power to, in any radical way, influence our outlook. The only way reason can address future things is by making believe that such things—things that are not really there—are present, so that it can subject them to determinate and reflective judgment. In other words, in order for future to be reasoned with it first has to be imagined. The conventional opposition between imagination and reason and the accompanying assumption of reason’s superiority leads, therefore, to a curious and paradoxical “reason” that is superior to imagination, but impotent without it.

Until convinced otherwise, I, for one, will keep imagining.

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What if Confucius Were to Teach Online?

A couple of weeks ago, I attended the Computers and Advanced Technology in Education conference in Beijing, a city where I went to college 20 years ago. To me, it felt a bit strange to hear the familiar subjects—new instructional tools and pedagogical methods—being discussed in an ancient city of China, which has become so modernized that I could barely recognize it. At the conference, the clear divide between the technical and pedagogical tracks reminded me of the disparity between modern technology and the historical cultural roots of China. Almost all of the presentations delivered by Chinese scholars focused on technology, and most of the technologically focused papers seemed to shy away from any deep analysis of the pedagogical impact of these technologies. This made me wonder, ‘Where were those insightful learning theories developed in China thousands years ahead of the west? Where was Confucius and his philosophy of teaching and learning?’

An interesting thought came to my mind as I was wandering through those technology demonstrations: what if Confucius were given the opportunity to teach online? Would he be as resistant to technology as many of our conservative faculty are? Or would he be willing to use the Internet to serve his mission of perfecting human beings through education?

As someone who taught through dialogue and observation, Confucius would very likely to be skeptical about teaching online. Yet, if he were to take advantage of online technology (as many faculty are doing now), I would speculate that his way of teaching would be dramatically different from most online instructors. Since I cannot easily anticipate what Confucius would do, I would just venture to list a few things that I believe would not happen if Confucius were to teach online:

  1. There would be no learning objectives.
  2. There would be no learning modules.
  3. There would be no “instructors” in the class, but “coaches” and “mentors”.
  4. There would be no tests and exams.
  5. There wouldn’t be any “course” or “courses.”
  6. There wouldn’t be a green light allowing every student to study online.

Now, here are my rationales for the would-not-happens.

1. No Learning Objectives
Confucius believed that through “studying,” one proceeded to reach the stage of human excellence. In this regard, the goal of education was to cultivate and facilitate self-improvement. Such improvement, in his opinion, was personal and could only happen through individual engagement in learning. Since humans differ in nature, Confucius suggested that instructions ought to be tailored for each individual student. The Analects of Confucius recorded that once a question was asked about whether the student should immediately put into practice something he was taught. To one student who Confucius thought was particularly zealous, he recommended that the student first consult his father and older brothers. To the other student who Confucius thought lacked enthusiasm, he said yes, put it into practice right away (The Analects of Confucius).

This story makes Confucius the earliest practitioner of constructivism. One could easily infer from his thoughts and practices that he viewed the paths to achieve the ultimate learning goals as being different from one student to another. In this sense, he would oppose putting any milestones on the journey of learning because people were traveling at different routes and even their own routes might change during the process. In developing online learning, we label those milestones as “learning objectives,” which were set by the instructors and given to students as common targets that move them along “a well-trod and clearly marked road.” The main challenge of learning, in this perspective, is to keep students moving down the road on schedule. (Ron Weigel, 2005).

These milestones or learning objectives would certainly be removed by Confucius.

2. No Learning Modules
Break the content into bite-sized chunks to make it easy for students to digest! Carefully label each chunk with instructions and dates for it to be consumed! Place them in a good sequence so that they are completed by the students in the right order!

None of these design tips would have found their place if Confucius were to teach online.
Confucius, even in his own time, never used structured class to teach. Because of this, one can hardly imagine him using modules to break knowledge into discrete pieces.

Confucius saw learning as a process of observation, followed by reflection, and internalization or implementation. His thought infers a clear distinction between information acquisition and the formation of knowledge and wisdom. He would leave it to the students to observe and to acquire information without interfering and would never limit what students could “observe” by storing things in a fixed module.

3. No Instructors but “Coaches” and “Mentors”
Confucius’ methods of teaching were striking. He didn’t discourse at length (no lectures either!). Instead he posed questions, cited passages from classic texts, used apt analogies, or simply just listened and waited for the students to arrive at the right answer. He would not be there to tell students when to finish what assignment or what’s right and what’s wrong. Instead, he was to coach and mentor them on an individual basis.

4. No Tests and Exams
Confucius never use structured exams to assess the progress of student learning. Instead, he seemed to care more about how students reflected upon what they had “observed” and transformed these observations into knowledge and wisdom.

Confucius once asked a student, “Do you think that my way of acquiring knowledge is simply to study many things and remember them?” The student said, “Yes, isn’t that the case?” Confucius replied, “No, I have one principle which I use like a thread, upon which to string them all.”

His answer demonstrated his awareness of his own thinking process, which we now define as “metacognition.” Metacognitive capabilities can never to be mined through pure retrieval of information, nor would they be assessed by tests and exams.

5. No More “Courses”
Although Confucius did have a curriculum for subjects like music, speech, poetry, literature, and history, none of these was offered in isolation. Instead, he took a holistic approach by cross-referencing all subjects.

Without the boundary of walls, online learning has the great potential to enable multidisciplinary curricula, which I believe Confucius would like to use. In this regard, the concept of “a course” or “courses” would disappear.

6. Survival of the Eager and Willing
How many online instructors are struggling with keeping students on task? How many are frustrated by the fact that no matter how hard they try, there are always some that just won’t learn? Well, Confucius would not let himself be bothered by this problem because he would not teach “dullards,” and would “only teach those who were bursting with eagerness for enlightenment” (The Analects of Confucius). He would certainly apply this principle to online learning, which requires more enthusiasm and self-motivation to complete.

In reviewing Confucius theories, I see some limitations in his thinking (such as the unchallengeable acceptance of traditions). However, there are many of his ideas and practices that may still provoke useful thinking about what we do today. I think reviewing his way of teaching would at least make us aware of the overuse of the behaviorist approach in online teaching, which has a tendency to downgrade learning to one or a collection of short-term trainings.

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Facebook Makes 40 the New 50

There was an article in the Red Eye on Friday, October 19th about young people not wanting their parents or “creepy old people”—which includes anyone over 40—on the social networking site Facebook. (If you’re not familiar with local Chicago media, the Red Eye is a popular free newspaper. Although it’s unseemly for a librarian to be caught with one, the paper is the perfect length for a relaxing commute read.) There are a number of things that I found interesting about this article, especially as we in higher education examine ways to connect with students where they already are.

The idea that people over 40 are considered “creepy” in the Facebook world begs the question, “How do students really feel about their professors wanting to network with them?” Do students really want their professors in their social networks? Are professors and students really “friends?” I would argue that like everyone else, students need spaces where they are not “at school” the same way those in the working world need spaces where they are not “at work.” In that context, it’s easy to see why crossing these lines can lead to feelings of resentment about the infringement.

This is not to say that social networking technology can’t help build meaningful communities in the online environment. However, I would argue that what we really need to be pushing is for solutions that are integrated into the course management system (whatever that might be) or that were developed for an educational purpose. The focus should be less on what service is being used (e.g. Facebook) and more on what the technology does.

Providing social networking tools as part of the student’s classroom experience (be that online or face-to-face)—but not as part of their social experience—makes a lot of sense. For example, Ning is a free Social Networking tool that faculty can use to create a social network for their class (or perhaps for a cohort). Ning allows instructors to tap into the positive aspects of social networking technology without the baggage of being in a student’s personal space.

While there is something to be said about having everything in the same place, I would argue that we need to have lines in our lives to separate the different components. The hope, of course, is that these lines keep us grounded and more sane!

For more information on the “graying” of Facebook, you can view the original article, “73 and Loaded with Friends on Facebook,” on the New York Times website.

Outsourcing Subtitles

Running the video production team for IDD, I am often asked to include subtitles with the videos we create. However, we don’t really have an efficient workflow for producing subtitles and I am often unable to fulfill the request. I know we need to improve our ability in creating subtitles—not only to meet the demands of our diverse student body (students with disabilities, international students, etc.), but also to allow for text-based video-searching, which will increase each video’s value as a learning object.

Recently, I have asked some of our Graduate Assistants (GAs) to assist in producing subtitled tracks for our videos using a share-ware subtitling application. When you factor in software training, transcription time, proof reading, etc., it takes a GA two hours and 20 minutes on average to produce one minute of subtitled video. Once a GA was experienced with the processes and comfortable with the software, he or she could produce one minute of subtitled video in 20 to 30 minutes.

Last year, IDD produced 128 hours of original video content. In order to caption all of the videos we produced last year, it would cost us $215,050. (GAs make $12/hour.) Even if we used only experienced GAs, our annual cost would still be $30,720 and require at least two GAs dedicated to subtitling.

This past summer at the Annual Conference on Distance Teaching & Learning in Madison, Wisconsin, I was introduced to a company named Automatic Sync Technologies. The University of Nevada, Las Vegas uses Automatic Sync as its exclusive partner in creating video transcripts and subtitles. Through a web-based interface, users upload their videos to Automatic Sync receive a subtitle track and a full transcript three days later. At this point, all the video producers have to do is associate the subtitle tracks with their original videos and they are done. Automatic Sync pricing is based on the volume of videos you submit. The more you submit, the cheaper it gets. Captioning our 128 hours using Automated-Sync would have cost DePaul $17,114, a significant savings even at our most efficient production capabilities.

Outsourcing our subtitling work to Automatic Sync or one their competitors seems like a no-brainer. It’s cheaper than doing it in-house, produces a more reliable product, and lets our GAs spend time working on other valuable projects.

If your university or organization has an efficient and effective way of producing subtitles for video, I’d love to hear about it.

Too Cool for School? Second Life in Higher Ed

Depending on where you stand, education is poised to be elevated into the sublime heights of effortless and ubiquitous real-time virtual interaction and connectivity, or about to be overrun by leering mountebanks as tech-bewitched apostates unbar and swing wide the sacred doors of academia.

At least that’s my take on the current discourse regarding Second Life. I attended the University of Wisconsin’s Conference on Distance Teaching and Learning in early August, then the Second Life Community Convention in Chicago August 24-26, and was struck by the divide between those for whom Second Life is just too cool, and those who are left just a bit cold.

The debate seems unnecessarily polarized. At Madison I heard a lot of fear and loathing from some distance educators. Fear that students would fall prey to sexual predators, either by wandering outside of the purportedly safe confines of a virtual classroom or campus, or by the penetration of those defenses by a rogue’s gallery of grifters and charlatans. Fear of embarrassment as naked or hyper-sexualized avatars appear in class. And ultimately, I think, fear of the loss of control, fear of the learning curve to master the technology, and fear of the concomitant workload. For them Second Life is a cold, soulless world far removed from the warm embrace of the classroom and face to face interaction.

The true believers I met and listened to at SLCC have no such qualms. For them SL is super-cool; a democratic and easily accessible new world where anything can and should be visualized and experienced. A world where learners can experiment with identity and experience situations and encounters that would be cost or risk prohibitive elsewhere. Where participants can collaborate and connect more intimately in virtual space than would be permissible or possible otherwise. And a world where the shackles of identity are loosed, role playing becomes an unlimited learning tool, and learning becomes intuitive and fully collaborative, unsullied by the constraints of gender, age, or class.

Just too cool!

I stand somewhere in the middle of this debate. I agree SL is cool, at least the promise of it. Once you get the hang of navigating in-world, which is not intuitive unless you’re a gamer always on the hunt for the best game apps to win real money, there’s a real sense of presence that I don’t experience in asynchronous discussions, chat, or instant-messaging. When I encounter another avatar I experience the same type of social awareness I would in the real world: I’m conscious of proximity, gaze, posture, and the like. Whether this has any purely educational value is certainly up for debate, but if your goal is to increase the sense of connectedness shared by your distance learners you’d be hard pressed to find a more effective tool.

As for collaborative possibilities, one SLCC presenter talked about the virtual fashion design class she created and taught. Fashion students working with peers in art and computer science designed and produced fashions using Photoshop and Second Life, dressed and posed avatars, planned and produced a virtual fashion show, and created portfolio animations of their work. Using the 3D virtual capabilities of Second Life they were able to conceptualize and experience much of the actual work of designing, producing, and presenting fashion collaboratively in a way that would have been impossible given the school’s budget and location. And the instructor stressed that while the class was a collaborative effort, she remained in control of the direction and pace of the workflow.

So yes, it’s cool.

But it’s not the panacea or paradigm shifting agent its disciples declare either. First, it’s not an easy technology to master or fully exploit, especially if you expect to do more than roam around. Plan on devoting six intensive months or more to creating a functioning virtual campus. And that’s with a team of scripters and 3D artists at your disposal. Second, it should be no surprise there’s no shortage of skillful, antisocial nut-jobs that call Second Life home. While I think some of my fellows at the Madison conference were a bit too timid, they raised some valid concerns. Griefers abound in SL, and while you may raise defenses a skilled and determined hacker will find a way around, over or through them. Imagine your class on human sexuality disrupted by pro-life avatars wielding virtual fetuses and you get an idea of the kind of mischief that can occur in-world. And I’m sure lawyers will be kept busy for years to come defining the liability of institutions when their students experience emotional or financial trauma in a course-required Second Life session. Then there are the seemingly regularly scheduled system failures to the SL grid, which Linden Labs owned up to at SLCC with grace and good humor. Finally, while immersive virtual reality is a powerful tool for teaching molecular structure or visiting reproductions of ancient Greece, does anyone seriously think an English lit course is going to benefit by having virtual students sit in a virtual classroom listening to lectures by a virtual instructor? Aside from the novelty of seeing your professor holding court as 7-foot Seductra Maxima in stiletto heels and a rubber mini it’s hard to see any value added.

And I think determining value is what the debate really centers on. There are great ways to exploit SL, and some real problems with the technology as well. I’d be remiss to not mention the digital divide debate that attends SL as an educational tool. There are hardware and broadband requirements that currently preclude a lot of otherwise connected distance learners from participating in Second Life. Those issues will have to be addressed, as well as Linden Lab’s difficulties supplying a robust and dependable platform. But I do think we’re going to see some great things in Second Life or its successors as the bugs get worked out and more content is developed. Personally, I’d like to walk around first-century Pompeii and see if I can outrun Vesuvius’ pyroclastic flow. I’m not sure there’s a lot of real educational value in being able to.

But it’d be cool.

These Kids Today: The 2007 ECAR Study of Students and Information Technology

The Educause Center for Applied Research (ECAR) recently released its fourth annual research study on the role of technology in student life, which describes their findings of the ways college students use technology and the impact this may have on instruction. In case you don’t want to leaf through the 122-page PDF, you can read Andy Guess’s article in Inside Higher Education for an excellent analysis of the study. But the ECAR report is well worth reading. The tables and stats alone will come in handy for you to whip out at any cocktail party when the discussion turns to “these kids today”.

Researchers found that as suspected, college students are using technology like crazy.

Among the interesting statistics:

  • 73% of students have laptops (although half don’t bring them to class)
  • Average hours per week on the Internet: 18
  • 81.6% of students use social networking sites such as Facebook or MySpace
  • 74.7% have music/video devices
  • 85.1% use instant messaging
  • 43.1 % accessed a wiki every week
  • Over 70% use the Internet (including library databases) for research

This study shows that student use of communication tools such as text messaging, IM, and social networking sites has increased significantly—up 11% since the last study in 2006. Students also make frequent use of Blackboard, email, and discussion boards in their academic work. But although this generation of college students has grown up immersed in these new technologies, they are not ready to abandon real-life human interaction quite yet. Researchers found “themes of skepticism and moderation alongside enthusiasm” among the students regarding the use of technology in courses, noting that 59 percent of students preferred a “moderate rather than extensive use of IT in courses.”

One theme that emerged from the study was that many students found that “the poor use (underuse/overuse/inappropriate use) of technology by faculty detracts from the learning experience.” Complaints included time wasted trying to make equipment work, poorly facilitated discussion boards, and poorly-trained faculty. It is good to know the youth of today are discerning customers. Students won’t buy into the use of technology unless a faculty member can use it well and integrate it meaningfully into the curriculum. Students know that technology alone is no substitute for good teaching practices.

Although student opinion seems to be a bit mixed about the use of technology in the classroom, the overall message of the report is clear: the times are changing and instructors must face the reality that this generation of “digital natives” has grown up with higher expectations for the skillful use of technology and has different ways of learning and accessing information. These new technologies aren’t going away and will just evolve into a Web 3.0 and 4.0 and so on. In the introduction, Harvard professor Chris Dede summarizes the entire state of affairs in one sentence: “Our ways of thinking and knowing, teaching and learning are undergoing a sea change and what is emerging is both rich and strange.” Dede recommends that educators work towards a pedagogical model that fuses the old methods and new, but as this is a bit easier said than done.

The Inside Higher Education article posed some interesting questions regarding the report that I’ve adapted a bit: “How can educators adapt their teaching methods to these emerging technologies? And should they? How are you dealing with this “sea change” and navigating through this ocean of wikis, blogs, RSS feeds, social bookmarking, and all things Web 2.0?