Chris Lott

[photo by diamond-mind]

Some said it couldn’t be done. Some said the subject didn’t even exist. Some claimed it couldn’t be quantified enough to be useful. But somehow today Jared Stein, Scott Leslie and I managed to put on (I think) a pretty successful workshop on the Personal Learning Environment (PLE) for educators. I facilitated the “beginner” sessions– focusing on the blog as a hub for activities and tools that make up one’s PLE and feed reading for both management/efficiency and as another way to participate in the larger conversation. I took care to continually focus on the Personal in the concept of the PLE, using the blog as a way to make and sustain human connections and as a means to start the cycle of the virtuous circle of intellectual and social capital building.

Outside of some inexcusable logistical and technical issues (how long will it take WCET organizers to realize that robust Internet access is a must for the entire conference venue, not to mention hands-on web-based workshops like ours? Does a breakout room that is three floors and a small maze away from the main room make sense? If laptops are promised isn’t it reasonable to expect that they will be delivered to the room prior to the session starting? Don’t pre-conference participants, who have paid a pretty penny to attend, deserve coffee and juice on the coffee breaks?) things went pretty smoothly. We were blessed with a group that wasn’t highly experienced but was generally pretty clueful, with little time being spent on basic browser operations, negotiating account signups and other things that can stall progress.

[photo by highline5]

My only real regret is that I wasn’t able to sit in on Scott and Jared’s session. My job was easier because I’ve developed a pretty good method for contextualizing blogging and feed reading and network participation… things get significantly hazier when you start talking about data mashups and such.

After the session we had the special interest dinners. Our strand was supposed to have 45 but ended up with only half that. The food was so-so, but the big problem (apparently) was that it was too cold at the outside tables we were given. Guess I am Alaskan through and through– I felt quite comfortable at 67F or so! But, as usual, the real fun was the dinner table conversation with friends I only get to see in person at functions like this. I was reminded very clearly of why Twitter has become so valuable in my working life– it’s the closest thing I have to providing the informal, wide-ranging, social interaction that plays out at conference dinners, hallway conversations, and late nights at a hotel bar. It’s not the same Twittering with @sleslie @jstein @diamond_mind @johnkrutsch @gsoutherndl as hanging out around a frozen table or a booth made for lovin’, but it’s close and I’m thankful for it.

 
[photo by highline5]

Finally, a word about the hotel– I mean “resort.” There’s no question this is a higher-end popular resort and I’m sure that for a certain kind of traveler it is a fine spot for a vacation. But it’s a lousy venue for an educational technology conference. The internet access– hardwired and wireless, in the room, lobby, and conference areas– is consistently poor. Word is that there won’t be *any* wireless in conference areas for the rest of the week, which is completely ridiculous. And education travelers are, most often, on a per-diem that just isn’t adequate for a hotel like this. My per-diem doesn’t cover even a single meal, not to mention the incidentals like constant tipping opportunities. It’s not that I mind the extra cost, but given the fiscal reality, the truth of Bryan Alexander’s law of hotel Internet (the more expensive the hotel the more expensive and poorly performing the internet access will be), and that much of the value of conferences is having a comfortable way to interact with people met during conference activities… I just don’t understand why venues like this are chosen.

[screenshot by harry (do you see me?)]

One of the more interesting NMC Symposium on Mashups sessions I attended was Brian Lamb’s wholly unexpected multimedia mashup extravaganza Confessions of a  Mashup Un-Artist. Held in Second Life (as you can see in the screenshot above), DJ Goldkey– as Brian is now known– put on a show you really have to listen to or watch. Any textual summary I could make would be useless. Also, Brian has provided some notes about his inspirations and sources in his blog.

What I loved about the whole thing (beyond the fact that it wasn’t another session spent watching slides pass by and beyond the content of the production itself) was the variety of reactions it received. While some just grooved to the sounds, putting their best avatar dance moves to use while peering at the video, others repeatedly asked if they were seeing and hearing what they were supposed to be, while a few were simply befuddled, mystified– even angered– by the whole thing.

I experienced a feeling very similar during this session to one I had during the opening night readings at Northern Voice– an exciting connection with the point, and product, and the why behind our use of these tools. I’m glad Jeffrey Keefer posted his thoughts about the session… not because he is wrong, but because he is in one sense completely right. Those who came to the session with certain expectations borne of a particular set of objectives motivating their attendance at the symposium– such as those expecting practical nuts and bolts of creating a mashup or those wanting to be told how mashups are useful in education or in their classroom– stood a good chance of being disappointed. And while I might not advocate for a whole conference of nothing but such performances (well, I might, but it wouldn’t really be a conference any more, which could be a good thing, and it would answer a generally different set of questions), having activities like this is a Really Good Thing. They remind us of what education is all about– not just the objectives, process and knowledge but also the product and expression.

Facts and instructions are not always– maybe not even usually– the answer. I compare this to the fact that when I’m struggling most with a vexing problem of technology, education and design, I most often turn to a book of poetry or put on some good music. I’d have a hard time coming up with a cogent theory of "application" of Coleridge to how to facilitate a class discussion, but I am keenly aware that for me there is a whole world of richness of expression and thought that ties into the way I live in and approach the world… and most of that world is in the dark, unseen and hard to quantify.

I enjoyed that Brian’s "presentation" was not to elaborate on the composition and details of a mashup and how they might be used, but to give the people attending his session a potentially powerful experience of a mashup for themselves… one whose "content"
centered on the foundational issues of culture, technology and education itself. It strikes me as a bit surprising that so many people there to learn about mashups were uncomfortable and surprised at being confronted by one, reminding me of the classic tensions between theorists and practitioners, and educators and students. Clearly we have a long way to go!

Will Richardson is wondering about something that is very much on my mind right now as well:  how to make make a phat conference presentation– or more accurately, not “present” at all but still rock the house– within the confines of a traditional conference setting. Many of us who perform at this kind of gig are in agreement that we want to have conversations. But when you have a limited window of time, no guarantee of connectivity, and an audience for whom your particular obsession is just one of many presentations they plan to slog into and out of on a given day– what do you do with that?