The more people I talk to, the more convinced I am that OER has failed to establish a digestible value proposition for formal education. For better or worse, many people caught up in the day-to-day vortex of teaching, advising, mentoring, and grading don’t have the spare time to problematize publisher-school power relations, realize the virtue of local control of curriculum materials, or fully appreciate the transformative benefits of transparency.

We need to refine our messaging if we mean to impact formal education – particularly in K-12 where so many curricular decisions are made “above” the individual teacher. Perhaps our messaging can take a cue from the intersection of the current, outcomes-obsessed political climate and the slashing of school budgets in response to global economic realities. Perhaps we should begin discussing a “golden ratio” of open educational resources that compares (1) (differences in outcomes) with (2) (differences in cost) when a OER are used instead of traditional, proprietary educational materials.

(1) I’ve written at some length about why we should anticipate the delta in learning outcomes to be near zero when comparable open educational resources and proprietary educational curriculum are measured against one another. When teachers actively take advantage of the local control provided by OER licensing and engage in substantive adaptation / localization exercises, we can reasonably hypothesize an improvement in student performance. Either way, I believe we can anticipate the “differences in outcome” factor to be zero or positive. The appropriate unit for this factor is probably a standard deviation.

(2) Differences in cost need to be accounted for completely. Time spent reviewing traditional textbooks and other curriculum materials should be compared to time spent finding OER. The costs of purchasing or licensing traditional materials, distributing at beginning of term, collecting at end of term, and storing / managing between terms should be compared to the costs of storing, standards aligning, etc. open educational resources. Costs of keeping OER up-to-date should be compared with textbook replacement costs or annual licensing fees for online curriculum. Et cetera. The appropriate unit for this factor is probably percentage change in the organization’s curriculum spend.

That gives us a golden ratio of OER that looks something like:

change in performance (as standard deviation) : change in money spent on curriculum (as percentage)

Now, it is terribly important to note that a great finding like [+0.2 : -7%] is only applicable to the specific open educational resources studied – THE FINDING DOES NOT EXTEND TO ALL OER. However, if we could demonstrate either (a) stable performance and money saved, or (b) performance gains and money saved, several times across different grade levels and subject matters, then we would have an argument that formal education would have a very difficult time ignoring. If we can’t show one of these two outcomes, we should seriously reconsider our work in the field.

Second, and perhaps even more importantly, I don’t think I know of any OCW or OER projects looking seriously at either of these factors (though the recent CMU OLI paper in JIME is obviously headed in the right direction). If you know of any, please drop a comment below.

What do you think? Should OER have to “put up or shut up”? If so, what metrics would you use besides learning gains and cost?

Now, if you’ve ever taught, you know that many students love to talk. It seems that they live to ask questions, argue, and endlessly discuss. Now, I ask you: How can removing all possibility of engaging in their favorite approach to learning (by making the computer the only entity with whom they can interact) be said to be personalization for them?

(And let’s not forget my pet hypothesis regarding the increasing importance of social interaction as one moves further up Bloom’s taxonomy. When students are working near the top of the taxonomy, the absence of social interaction will greatly decrease the efficiency of all learners.)

Systems that want to make claims to “personalize” must include multiple options for students who prefer interacting with other humans. A “full palette” of personalization options that involve variations of interactions with a single entity (the computer) is basically a monochrome palette. “Personalize your new car with any color you want! You can get it in blue, light blue, midnight blue, sky blue, Carolina blue, azurite, ultramarine, cerulean blue, cobalt blue, even Prussian blue!” (Reminiscent of the great SNL skit, “He could be green, or lime green, or mint green…”)

If we’re going to talk about “personalization,” options rich with human interaction must be part of the palette. Otherwise, we should call it what it is – a power grab by administrators forcing learners into a learning environment they do not prefer for the sake of increased efficiency.

The notion of teacher as DJ may have been implied when people started applying the “rip-mix-burn” metaphor to education, but lately I can’t seem to get it out of my head. The similarities were there even when teachers worked primarily with paper textbooks and printed research articles, but is even more pronounced now in the era of digitized resources.

There are the obvious similarities… Both start with a collection of existing materials – acoustic resources like songs, sound effects, and samples, and educational resources like simulations, tutorials, and articles. Both sequence and blend these materials in interesting ways. Both do quite a bit of planning (think syllabus as playlist), perform in discrete blocks of time (think course meeting as set); and both have to make meaningful connections between the resources they choose to employ (think lecturing and discussion leading as beat matching).

Beat matching means getting two records perfectly in sync with each other, then using the crossfader to switch between them. Beat matching is a skill that every DJ must master. When you’re playing a rave, party, dance, or club, being able to segue (move smoothly) from one tune to another without losing the beat will help you keep the dance floor full.
from Beat Matching Tips

But it’s the similarity expressed in this last sentence that has kept me awake the last few nights. Clubbers vote with their feet, and generally do so very overtly. Learners vote with their attention, and generally do so very covertly. How do we, as teachers, “keep the dance floor full?” A skilled DJ can feel the energy coming off a crowd and respond very quickly when that group is starting to feel restless (and starting to abandon the dance floor). A skilled teacher can feel the energy coming off a class and respond very quickly when that group is starting to get restless (and starting to doodle, read books, play games on their cell phones, etc.). The DJ responds by playing different music, sticking with genres that the crowd likes. How does the teacher respond? By using different examples, sticking with the kinds of explanations that the learners resonate with? By understanding the rhythm of the class, by knowing when to “play a slow song?”

I believe that this exchange of energy between people is critically important. In all the talking we do about effective teaching, we frequently overlook this obvious, social component. I’m not sure why we expect learners to simply sit there, regardless of how unresponsive we are to the cues they give us, taking offensive if they behave as if they’re bored or complain about our classes. How would the dynamic change if learners felt free to vote with their feet like the clubbers, to walk off the dance floor whenever a class became too lame? This is exactly what online education enables them to do, and this is exactly why paying attention to the social component of these experiences is so much more critical in online learning. We must set up channels through which people can exchange this energy, and those serving as teachers must be ready and willing to respond to that energy. We must move beyond the idea that we can burn a 3 credit class onto a CD (or upload it into WebCT/Blackboard/Sakai) and hand it off to a learner with a “see you at the end of the semester.” We are DJs, and it is up to us to keep our learners on the dance floor.

Brett begins by saying that I am basically describing schema theory:

Let me first relate to what David thinks of the action-feedback loop that underlies all learning. This is what I first learned as basic schema theory, the way we interact with our environment is through a mechanism of perceiving our world, adjusting to what information we get, modifying what we know, then making an appropriate action. This is in slightly different order in what David mentions them, but basically its the same idea.

Brett acknowledges that he has things in a slightly different order, but characterizes his description as basically the same idea. While in many instances order does not matter, occasionally order makes a great deal of difference. Take the classic word order example: dog bites man / man bites dog. Order can make a big difference.

I think the order difference between “simulus-response” and “probe-gather data” is all the difference in the world. It is the difference between passively adapting to the world as you find it, and actively remaking the world to suit one’s own purposes. The undeniable reality is, of course, that as humans we work in both modalities. But perhaps the most important question we can ask is – which is the true nature of our learning experience? Are we really giant receptor mechanisms who occasionally co-opt this “response” mechanism to our own ends? Or are we really agents with goals and purposes who occasionally co-opt this “experimental” mechanism to meet circumstances beyond our control? I contend we are the latter. (The irony is not lost on me, of course, that I say that *in response* to Brett’s post.)

Brett goes on to say that as far as the mechanism is concerned, my description of learning sounds like most traditional cognitive theory. Absolutely. And most behavioral theory. I am unaware of a “learning theory” that does not view at least some of our learning as done through interacting – passing some form of abstract messages back and forth between ourselves and the environment.

(Digression: Possible exceptions to this pattern would be learning that comes through meditating or pondering, the burst-of-insight kind of learning. There are a number of ways this type of learning could also be charaterized as following the probe-gather data mechanism, including internal dialogue in which messages are passed back and forth within the learner, or inspiration in which messages are passed back and forth between the learner and the Infinite. But I really do digress.)

Brett continues:

To me, the complexity of learning lies in numerous other factors [other than message design], such as the social context in which it is experienced, the way the information is experienced (was it through passivity? Activity? Reflection? Application?), and the artifacts that share, contribute, and distribute what is “understood” (just to name a few). To me, an explanation of the action-feedback loop, on the most basic level, helps inform how we interact with our immediate environment, but does very little to inform how we as human beings gain complex understandings of our world and of each other.

I think, and I believe Brett will agree, that an overly simplistic and naive view of message design has been killing our field for the past several years. It is as if film students were taught that writing effective dialogue were all that mattered (BTW, have you seen Serenity yet?). Film makers understand that in addition to dialogue there must be plots, sets, scenery, costumes, music, lighting, character development, and a host of other contributing factors in order to really stir, move, or otherwise communicate with their audience. I agree completely with Brett that social context, the mode of experience, the nature of the artifacts, and a host of other factors are critical. We ignore these at our peril.

At a high level ADDIE may describe what is going on in instructional design, just as at a high level breathing, circulation, and (occasional) neural function may characterize what is going on in my life. But both of these accurate characterizations are somewhat dissatisfying in their lack of detail. As if all of Tolkein’s great writing could be summarized as “there was this bad guy, and he made an evil ring, but a good guy unmade it.”

To stand on a soapbox I have almost broken with use, effective instructional design is a radically interdisciplinary undertaking. “Message design” is Brett’s term, not mine, but to work with it I would say that a more sophisticated understanding of message design would include considerations like the sociocultural context in which the messages are being sent / received, the mode of their communication, and the artifacts in which they may be reified.

Coming back to my original statement of the learning mechanism, a question: Why is it that games account for more sales than movies? Because games are movies plus. The best games have characters, plots, scenery, music, lighting, and – critically – the opportunity for a person to express their own goals and purposes as part of the experience. Participation in movies is passive, participation in games is active. Games allow the learner to participate in that fundamentally experimental exercise of “probe-gather data,” whereas movies put us in “stimulus-reponse” mode, which is great if you’re at a scary movie with a really cute date, but otherwise kind of blah.

Moving on. Brett next says:

The example of trial-error learning within Sims environment is simply misplaced: the Sims games are not created for learning, and the learning that takes place during activity has proven to be of secondary importance if people are learning at all.

Here I’ll disagree somewhat. Sim City, the game I described previously, may not have been created explicitly to support learning about civic infrastructure, taxes, zoning, and parks. Understanding the individual purpose and function of each of the areas of infrastructure, finance, power, education, zoning, employment, and transportaion individually is a rather straightforward endeavor. In fact, one might take a class at school, read books, write essays, and take tests showing that they understand each of these individual components. However. The complexity inherent in the task of managing a city is not in managing the individual components – they are extremely simple. The complexity is in managing the interactions of those components, and the patterns of collective behavior that emerge from those interactions of the simple components of the system. At this stage, yes, “learning is complex.”

And let us pause to thank our respective Diety of choice that no instructional designers were involved in the specification or creation of Sim City. Just imagine how “play” would be affected by the introduction of Mager’s objectives into the game. Yes, the learning is definitely secondary. Should we devalue it because it is secondary? Do we look down on the amazing learning of history and culture one gains by becoming proficient in games like Civilization III? Who would you rather have for the Mayor of your town – someone with a degree in management or someone who has mastered Sim City?

We might rightly argue that all meaningful learning always is secondary – it is not learning for the sake of learning, or for the sake of a grade, it is learning in the service of accomplishing some goal which helps an agent meet some purpose of their own.

Finally, Brett says:

I think the perspective we should take lies far beyond a description of messages sent back and forth from learner to instructional artifact. We should have loftier goals.

Yes. We must absolutely concern ourselves with things beyond (in addition to) the messages themselves. I don’t know that we need loftier goals, but we certainly need a more massively-interdisciplinary approach.

This action-feedback loop is what underlies all learning. And now, for a brief digression in which I reveal more about myself than you wanted to know.

<digress>
Here’s Wiley’s theory of learning in a nutshell. An agent (you or I, or a cat or mouse for that matter) sends messages out, and receives messages in return. The rest is a combination of pattern-matching and purposiveness on the part of the agent.

As a teacher, or from the outside, there is very little that we can do to change the pattern-matching and purposiveness parts of the activities agents engage in (other than the usual meta-cognitive coaching and reward / punishment stuff you already know about). This means that the big opportunity for instructional designers or teachers lies in crafting the messages that go back to the agent.

Now, this all sounds very behavioral. And, in fact, it can work that way when the agent is only pattern-matching and not engaging in purposive activities. However, to the extent the agent begins to act purposively, these same mechanisms will underly the most constructivist types of learning. The agent will engage in some activity which (in an abstract way) sends a message out into the environment (like writing and running a program in Netlogo), the agent will receive a message (some feedback) back from the environment (perhaps the program will throw errors or behave in an unexpected way), and the agent will use this new information to form another probe out into the environment. I do this all the time when trying to install new software from source or tweak the CSS on a webpage. I send messages out to Google, it sends messages back to me, and if the contents of the message meet my purposes I stop. If not, I rinse and repeat. In it’s reliance on conversation as a mechanism, I suppose it’s quite a Pask-ian view of the world. (FWIW, I think this very simple view of the world meshes very well with what we know about the biological mechanism underlying learning.)

So, in a pointless attempt to be clear, I think there are four things worth considering when we think about teaching and learning: (1) the types of messages the agent sends out, (2) the types of messages that come back, (3) the pattern-matching mechanism, and (4) the role of purposiveness.
</digress>

So what does all this have to do with games? I think we have to think carefully about the types of learning games are really suited to facilitate. I think we have to think carefully about the types of messages we enable learners to send into the virtual environment, the types of messages the environment sends back, how the learner is going to make meaning out of patterns in these messages, and how the learner expresses their purposiveness in the game environment. If there’s any response to this post, maybe I’ll do a quick sketch of Sim City or another game from this perspective.

It’s a shift, from learning being viewed as a (vertical) relation between a provider and a recipient, to a (horizontal) peer to peer relationship of negotiation of multual relevance.

Best definition of meaningful learning I’ve heard in ages. I’ve often thought that if a teacher can’t “convince” a student they need to learn a certain “required” subject (i.e., if they can’t demonstrate the relevance of material so supposedly important it was put into the core curriculum), they should not be allowed to teach it. Period. Of course, when the curriculum and assessments are set by the federal government, there is no mutual negotiation of anything. “Open wide,” says the omniscient panel of PhDs….