LPOD - giving v sharing

Today's learning point arises out of a recording of a conference, but I'm blowed if I know which conference! I can't even remember who Twittered the link (I did try to find it again, honest). It seems to have been attended largely by secondary school teachers.

Update 26/02/09: Alec Couros advises that the presentation formed part of his graduate course and points to this post for further info.

Anyhoo, I picked up this link to a presentation by Stephen Downes.

He made a point that resonated completely with me, even though I had never formulated the thought quite so coherently.

He explained that communities share knowledge, they don't give it away. He explored the difference between the two. Giving something away free of charge as a philanthropic or charitable act implies a position of superiority to the giver over the recipient, whereas sharing takes place between equals. So giving is a downward/vertical action, whereas sharing is a horizontal action.

I like this.

In much the same way - as an attendee (delightfully known as 'plugusin') pointed out - to convince someone of something implies a downward action, an intimation of the superiority of one position over another.

As Harold Jarche put it during a recent Skype conversation, much of the time, when I make contraversial statements, I am looking for engagement. Nothing annoys me more than people muttering to themselves about how wrong you are. For goodness' sake, speak up. Your view carries weight, too. Let's discuss this in open forum and come to a conclusion... together. That's the whole point of social media... isn't it?

Knowledge does not equal skills does not equal behaviour

This post and the ensuing comments had previously been removed at the insistence of my manager. Since I no longer work for them, I feel no qualms about reinstating the post. Unfortunately, I am unable to reinstate the comments.

One of the things that really bothers me about compliance type training is the whole assessment model and the conclusions that are drawn from it.

Increasingly, it seems to me that the way we demonstrate to the marketplace our excellence in a particular area is to acquire accreditation. We acquire accreditation by complying with the stated behaviours as laid out by the accrediting body. We demonstrate compliance with the required behaviours by... well by passing a multiple choice test, of course!

The thing is, the multiple choice test is usually so facile that pretty much anyone can pass it, so essentially is assesses nothing. Well, that's one of the things anyway.

The other is that a multiple choice test... or any written test for that matter, is not evidence of behaviour.

Let's say the matter at hand is people management. We can put our manager through any number of training interventions, ranging from boring to highly engaging. What we test at the end (if the test is written) is knowledge. As I have said several times in meetings over the past few days - if knowledge equalled behaviour, our jails would be empty.

Let's say we really branch out and devise a role play test of some sort, presenting our friendly manager with a whole bunch of scenarios in which he must acquit himself. Even supposing some of those tests are blind, they test skills. Being able to do something and actually doing it are not always the same thing.The only way to assess whether behaviour matches up to standards/expectations is through on the job assessment, which brings us back to our performance review process.

Far too often, the appraisal/review/call it what you will process is seen as something that a manager does to a staff member. Almost as often, the manager resents having to take the time away from the day job to carry out these reviews.

Over the past few days I have had to look at ways that make clear the following two points:

• A manager is supposed to manage people. A manager is not just an operative with a higher salary. Supporting the personal development of staff members is the day job. Sadly, managers' own KPIs seldom reflect this.
• Managers do not review staff members' performance. Managers and staff members discuss past performance, future development and long term career planning together and set in place together some objectives to help each staff member realise their potential.

In the movie Rain Man, Dustin Hoffman's character is a numeric savante. He can perform the most spectularly complex numeric calculations in his head. He knows numbers. But when asked how much change he should get from a simple purchase, he didn't have a clue. He simply could not transfer his numeric knowledge into a practical skill, let alone a behaviour.

Knowledge ≠ skill ≠ behaviour.

Cardboard boxes, the ecology and business ethics

We are moving house. Anyone else who has ever moved house (which is just about anyone, I guess) will know that it usually entails a fair number of cardboard boxes.

Of course, I have been collecting some from work, and we had kept a few nice strong ones from the last move, but we have been forced to buy several.

One of the places we went to in our quest for the best deal was a stationery supplier. Everywhere you looked in the store, there were boxes of stock. Most of their products are delivered in boxes - most of them perfect sizes for packing and moving. Paper, binders, you name it. It all comes in boxes, which they then unpack onto their shelves and sell singly. In some sections of the store, there were moutains of sealed boxes, topped off by the contents of the few that had been opened. In top of the shelving, were unopened boxes containing new stock. Boxes. Everywhere. But you can't have those. You have to buy purpose-made boxes at £3 each, or in packs of 5... or 10.

So what are they going to do with all the hundreds (thousands?) of boxes in which their stock is packaged for delivery? They're going to take them out back, flatten them and bale them, so that they can be collected for recycling. Presumably by some large, diesel fume emitting vehicle which will take to some carbon-footpring producing recycling plant.

Why can't they let us have them instead?

Well because they sell boxes, you see, so it would interfere with their profits. Why should they give away something when they can sell it for a ridiculous sum of money?

Why can't they sell those ones for a nominal fee (or even better for a donation to some green organisation)?

Well, because, they're not set up for that, you see.

Why not?

Look lady, we just aren't. Do you want the boxes or don't you?

Well I don't, but I need them. Nevertheless, I am going to go and buy them somewhere else (a) because they're cheaper, (b) because that company doesn't have boxes standing around that they could give away and (c) because I've got the hump now and I'm blowed if you're getting a penny out of me. Have a nice day, won't you?

Okay. So what has this got to with learning?

Simply this:

If I know something that you need to know, I will gladly let you have it (free, gratis and for nothing). I have been on the receiving end of generosity of this sort for several years as a learning professional, and I have "grown up" with this attitude.

Not only is it generous, it makes sense. It keeps the knowledge economy flowing, it moves us all forward, and we all grow knowledge richer together. This in turn, makes good fiscal sense, since we can implement the new knowledge in the fulfillment of our day jobs.

How very "pay it forward", and how very much to my liking!

The value of "I don't know"

I've been thinking a lot lately about what constitutes effective teaching. Often I come back to the view that teaching is more about who you are than what you do. So yesterday I expressed the view that passion, zeal, etc. were more valuable to a teacher than having all the answers.

Today I'd like to speak out in defence of the phrase "I don't know". Some years ago, I met up with the woman who had taught me English and history during my final two years of high school. She confessed to me that her spelling was very poor, which was the reason for her stock in trade response when anyone in the class asked how to spell a word: she would point in the direction of the dictionary on the front table. The idea then was that the student had to find the word in the dictionary and then write it on the board. The truth was that she often didn't know how to spell the word and hoped to improve her own spelling through this sneaky tactic. The occasion was an old girls' reunion and there were several teachers in the room. This anecdote generated a round of similar stories, to much hilarity. The point being that revealing ignorance to your students was a bad move.

Looking back now, I wonder about this. Why is it so risky to admit ignorance? Why must a teacher seem infallible? Surely that sets artificial standards for the learners to aspire to? It jsut smacks too much of gamesmanship to my mind (non-sequitur: isn't it weird that "gamesmanship" and "sportsmanship" are often mutually exclusive concepts?)

I was recently in a meeting where the client asked a question. The question was answered by the provider - totally inaccurately. I was appalled. He obviously had no idea, but dared not risk exposing this fact to the client. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he didn't simply turn the question over to someone on his team who knew the real answer. Similarly, if a teacher can't admit to a student that s/her doesn't know the answer, surely this opens the door to minsinformation?

If you don't know, but pretend you do, then you remain ignorant and your learner enters the world of thinking he knows when he doesn't.

I haven't always got it right, but when my learners asked me a question to which I didn't know the answer, the tactic I adopted was honesty: "I don't know, let's ask Google." "I don't know, does anyone else know?" "I don't know, why don't you try it and see?" "I don't know, let's check Help." "I don't know, but I will find out and email the answer to you. Would anyone else like to have that information?"

Even before I learned about clever things like peda- and andragogy, collaborative learning, constructivism, and all stuff, it seemed to me to be a logical approach to set the scene as being a journey we were all on together, and in which we could all learn from each other. I don't believe in lying to my kids, and I don't believe in lying to my learners. If you don't know, and say so, you create the potential for an outcome where you do know and where your learners know, too.

I can't see the downside.

Consciousness of knowledge

A few recent events and exchanges have got me thinking about levels of consciousness associated with knowledge (I've probably misused semantics in some places, so forgive me):

Knowing that you know - conscious knowledge
When you have gone through a specific learning experience to gain knowledge, you know you have that knowledge. I know that the orders of operation associated with algebra can be summarised in the acronym BODMAS (or any of several variations on that theme). I remember learning it. I remember arguing with my son's Year 5 maths teacher when she said "We don't use that system, here" - as if it were an optional extra. I have taught it countless times when reaching the point of formulas in spreadsheet training. I use it myself whenever I create a formula in a spreadsheet package. I know BODMAS. I know that I know it, I know why I know it, and I know when to use it.

Not knowing that you know - unconscious knowledge
I have never had one of those real eye-opening moments like Geena Davis in Long Kiss Goodnight when she discovers to her horror that she knows how to assemble a sniper rifle. But on a smaller scale, there are moments when we put our knowledge into practise, surprising ourselves that we possessed the knowledge in the first place. A friend's Dalmatian bitch recently produced 8 puppies. They were her first litter, yet she ate their faeces (I know, I know) as she would in the wild to hide their existence from predators. Although we are no longer so reliant on our instincts, we have reserves of knowledge we don't even know about until they are needed.

Knowing that you don't know - conscious ignorance, part 1 - the foundation for learning
It is when you know that you don't know that you ask questions - and hopefully pay attention to the answers. Unless of course, you "don't know, don't care" - which is another matter again. I know that I don't know enough about html. I am having vocabulary-expanding trouble trying to use the new Blogger feature to upgrade my blog template while retaining my hard-won widgets. I am pestering everyone who might be able to help with a myriad questions, but have so far made precious little progress! I know that I am still learning about connectivism, so I ask questions of people like George and Stephen and will my brain to understand their responses. I read the exchange on the Connectivism Conference Moodle and form views on the messages posted there, filtering the new information through what (I think) the experts are saying.

Don't know, don't care - conscious ignorance, part 2 - the nursery of bigotry and prejudice
Someone once told me she had won a trip to South Africa. Congratulating her, I asked her where she was going, so that I could recommend a few sights to take in. "Uganda," she replied. When I told her that Uganda was not only not in South Africa, it was a long distance away, she shrugged and said airily, "It's all Africa isn't it?" Don't know, don't care. My husband calls this "I've made up my mind, don't confuse me with facts!"

Don't know that you don't know - unconscious ignorance
I'm probably as guilty of this as anyone I might point a finger at. I don't know what I don't know. Not realising what great holes there are in my knowledge, I might make confident, categorical statements about situations/events/whatever that are patently untrue. I notice this particularly in my teenage sons - they are in that fortunate stage of their lives when they still know everything ;-) When someone points out the flaw in my statement, or draws my attention to some information that contradicts what I think, I have a choice: either I can move into knowing that I don't know, or I can go to don't know, don't care.

I'm sure there are other categories, too, and it's useful to know where your user audience is when you're designing a learning solution, since this will impact the solution on many levels.