It could be worse!

I recently hypothesised about the risks of corporate blogging, but the woes that befall us in these situations are still a far cry from being jailed for 20 years for shedding light on atrocities. It's one thing to risk getting into trouble, or even getting canned at work. This is a whole different league of courage-of-your-convictions stuff.

Computer on a stick

The latest Good Idea to be shared with me by my live-in IT support man is PortableApps.com. I am trying to persuade said IT support man to blog about this himself, since I'm sure he'll do a much better job, but his blogging has thus far been a bit of a flash in the pan. Keep an eye out, though, I think he's weakening!

I previously shared about an article that explained how to virtualise one computer onto another. This takes things one step further. It allows you to create a computer-on-a-stick, so that you can carry your favourite apps with you and run them on any computer you happen to find handy. For example, if Firefox is one of the apps you choose, it comes complete with all your bookmarks when you come to use it on the PC of your choice.

As the blurb on the site says:

PortableApps.com Suite™ is a complete collection of portable apps including a web browser, email client, office suite, calendar/scheduler, instant messaging client, antivirus, audio player, sudoku game, password manager, PDF reader, minesweeper clone, backup utility and integrated menu, all preconfigured to work portably. Just drop it on your portable device and you're ready to go.

In spite of my title, you don't have to use a stick, either. You can use an iPod or a portable hard drive... presumably even a camera card, if you can find one with enough capacity. It comes, as John puts it, "in three initial flavours" to which you make additions as you see fit further down the line.

And it's free! Like Moodle, the developers request donations from the user community in order to fund further development.

No heads in the sand

I have deliberately subjected myself to a harrowing ordeal today. Am I some kind of masochist?

Not really, but there are times when has to put one's personal preferences aside. This is one of them.

I don't like reading about child abuse. I don't like watching movies that include child abuse, wife battering or rape scenes. I find no entertainment value in them. I usually groan or whimper audibly and leave the room. When the abuse is real, I find it very difficult not to resort to the same coping mechanism. I want to slap my hands over my ears and go "Lalala". I don't want to have to process that kind of information.

But I must.

In quick succession, the UK has been hit with news of Baby P and the Mulling-Sewell brothers. I feel quite traumatised by the reports, but I truly believe that it would be a heartless act to indulge myself and turn away. After everything these children have endured, the world needs to wake up and pay attention. "How many times can a man turn his head, and pretend that he just doesn't see?"

I am outraged. I am grief-stricken. I am frustrated. I am squirming in my seat. I don't want to read about this. I don't want to know. I don't want this unseemliness infringing on my nice, neat life.

Tough.

Our systems are failing our children.

Something needs to be done.

Blogging - when the rope hits the rudder

One of the major risks for employees who blog is that of causing offence to clients and finding themselves in the dog box as a consequence.

Let's say, for example, you attend a meeting with a client in which the client expresses a view that you disagree with. This client is by no means the only one to express this view and it is something you have addressed in various spaces, including your blog, on more than one occasion. You try to reason with the client, to no avail.

So (you think) you exercise your right to free speech and you write about it on your blog. Again. You know this is an issue many members of your network encounter, too, and you wonder how they deal with it. You point out your objections to the client's line of reasoning. You carefully omit the client's name and any other indicators that might reveal their identity.

A few people stop by your post and submit comments. Some of these are not very tactfully couched. Quite rude, in fact. But you publish them, because (you think) they're exercising their right to free speech.

Then someone from the client side who was present at the meeting stumbles across your post and identifies their organisation as being the one being referred to. They take exception. They take even greater exception to the comments, for which they hold you accountable.

They tell your company that they never want you anywhere near their project again.

This puts your manager in a difficult position. Are you guilty of gross misconduct and therefore dismissable? Can you be quietly redeployed elsewhere? Are the powers that be higher up the food chain baying for your head on a pike? Can he/she get away with slapping you on the wrist and saying "Bad blogger! Don't ever do that again"? Would/should you comply? What action could he/she take if you didn't? Where is the line? Where is the black and the white and what the heck is all this grey stuff?

Many companies have avoided formalising a policy in respect of blogging because of the minefield it constitutes - particularly in respect of privately held, professional interest blogs. It's more straightforward if yours is a corporate blog on behalf of the organisation or if, at the other end of the spectrum, yours is a blog that centres on your leisure pastimes and does not address issues within the organisation's sphere of influence. It's that one in-between that's the blighter! how do they establish a defensible, enforceable policy that restricts what you may and may not say in a blog that is your private-but-very-public property without infringing your rights?

This provides the hapless manager with no guidelines to work from. There are no formal rules that have been broken, so it's difficult ot know what course of action to take. Is a disciplinary procedure in order? Dare he/she go that route, knowing that you might retaliate with an action of your own about freedom of expression and rights and stuff?

Your manager probably hopes that you'll go quietly. Do you?

Customer service in the shower

So Clark Quinn was taking a shower in his hotel room (I know this because he said so on Facebook), and he couldn't tell the difference between the shower gel and the shampoo. Why? Because they come in identical little bottles. Sure, they're labelled to tell you which is which, but that doesn't help Clark who can't read without his glasses and can't wear his glasses in the shower.

Those bottles are so cute, aren't they? We love to pop them in our bags to take home and clutter up our bathrooms. Mind you, they're great for decanting various lotions and potions into when you have to take a trip of a few days' duration. But Clark has identified a major flaw in their oh-so-cute design.

This puts me in mind of one of my all time favourite books, The Design of Everyday Things. Just the cover illustration cracks me up: it's a picture of a teapot with the spout and the handle on the same side.

Products should be designed primarily with the needs of the user in mind - it's one of those below-the-line customer service activities.

One of the products that I think of whenever I think product design is hearing aids. My mother-in-law wears one. It's a tiny little thing that disappears inside her ear. Very nice. Very discreet.

The thing is, she has to adjust it from time to time and, on a thing small enough to disappear inside your lughole, the control buttons are practically microscopic. When you're over 80, your eyesight is often about as bad as your hearing, and your hands can be none too dextrous, either.

So here's what I recommend (are you listening, all you inventor types? You can have this one for nothing!)

Someone should invent a remote control device for in-ear hearing aids. Something about the size of a mobile phone or a pocket calculator, which a decent sized screen and large text on the both the buttons and the screen.

All those in favour?

On ignorance

Yesterday, I was having a conversation with an American about how Americans are perceived by the world. Like most Americans of my acquaintance, he was both interested and well-informed regarding non-American matters. He was also well-travelled. However, this doesn't change the perception that exists that Americans are insular and ignorant of matters beyond (and sometimes even within) their vast borders, and that somewhere between 80-90% of them (depending on your reading material) don't even own a passport. Materials like this do nothing to help that perception.

Countless people have stories to tell of how, on a trip to the US, they encountered a version of the line, "You're from Africa? I have a friend in Nigeria, do you know her?" I had a few such experiences myself. Most people don't even hear the 'south' bit in South Africa - they just hear Africa, and visualise "lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" (just in case anyone is interested, there are lions in Africa, but tigers and bears are not indigenous to the continent). Like many others, I have had to deal with a surprised and somewhat skeptical, "But you're white!" These situations cause much hilarity when related 'back home'.

The truth is, that we have a situation of the pot calling the kettle black. Right here in the UK, I hear regular references to Africa as a country. Just yesterday, in a coffee shop on St Pancras station, I overhead a group of American tourists laughing at how ignorant English people are about America, "I said I was from New York and he said, "Oh, I went to San Fransisco once, I stayed in XYZ hotel, do you know it?" I mean, can you believe it? He had no idea how far that is!" Others in his group were quick to respond with stories of their own.

But notice the pattern: my illustrations have focussed on an ignorance of Africa. The Americans were laughing because people were ignorant about America. We seem to have this perception that people should know what we know, and a failure in this arena constitutes laughable ignorance. This strikes me as a somewhat arrogant stance to take.

I would hope that in this space, at least, we don't see a reason to laugh but an opportunity to impart information. Of course, not everyone wants to learn - I have been waved away many times by people who don't want their clear waters muddied by inconvenient facts about some unimportant little place called Africa. And that's their choice... and I guess, their right.

Sometimes you want to see the whites of their eyes

Many of you have been following the saga of my son's sponsored haircut. Now that the deed has been done, he has begun to collect the funds owed to him.

The more connected donors have been puzzled about one thing:

Why have I asked for the money to be sent to us, rather than being donated online? This is a very good question, and the answer is simply this: my son wants to take the money in his hot little hands and hand it over in person to someone who is involved with the foundation. I had originally expected to set up a fundraising page online and allow people to contribute that way, making out a single cheque to post in for those who preferred to give their cash to us.

But what do I know? Apparently I am a digital immigrant. The youngest member of the family - purportedly a digital native - did not want anything so impersonal. He wanted to have the pleasure of the physical gesture of giving. No doubt he also wants the pleasure of the physical gesture of a smile and expression of gratitude. Who can blame him? He just sacrificed his luxuriant mane!

So the Romeis family will shortly be making a trip to London so that our son can hand over in person the almost £300 he has raised. I suspect we'll call in at a few museums to make the trip cost effective.

The deed is done!

For those who have been following the saga, my younger son has now been shorn in aid of charity.

I have posted photos and a video on the Facebook group, where group members can see it.

He started off looking like Stephen Downes and ended up looking more like Doug Belshaw. Quite a transformation!

Ending the week with a smile

This has been a rough week for the Romeis family on many fronts and many levels, but I ended it on a belly laugh I'd like to share with you. I hope it comes off the page successfully.

It was just gone 4pm and we were collecting the kids from the railway station. As they slid into the back seat, the following conversation took place:

Son #1: If you could choose, which super-power would you have: the ability to turn invisible, to fly or to teleport?
Karyn (self-pityingly): Sometimes I feel as I am already invisible.
Son #2 (without missing a beat): Gasp! Who said that?

Gotta admit, I walked into that one. We laughed until the tears ran.

Finding that fine line

Apologies to those who have had their fill of this on Twitter - the 140 character limit was becoming an impediment!

My husband and I are in uncharted territory as parents. Our elder son is in post-compulsory education, but still attending a school, and we have yet to figure out the shift in balance.

Lately, there has been a flurry of communications from the school regarding his performance in Maths. It's not about his ability - that's not in doubt. It's about his work ethic. It started when he missed a lesson due to illness and didn't make enough effort to get caught up. But it has escalated to a feeding frenzy. Emails from teachers are CCed to all his maths teachers, who then seem to feel the need to leap aboard with their own input.

None of the other subject teachers have indicated any concerns, but it seems every move the child makes is now seen as further evidence of a poor work ethic and we get the impression that they are gunning for the school equivalent of a constructive dismissal.

He is 17 years old and trying to face down the wrath of 5 mutually supportive adults. He has been at the school for 2 months. He is becoming increasingly discouraged and rapidly reaching the point where is likely to say, in that time honoured, teenage way, "Sod it, then" and give up altogether. We are trying very hard to support him, and struggling to find the appropriate level for that support. Of course, we want him to put in the work that is expected of him, and where he has failed to do so, we expect him to man up. However, we have concerns that the teachers are armed with a collective hammer and, suddenly, everything looks remarkably like a nail.

Yesterday, there was a timetable conflict between a PE (sports theory) exam and the Maths Challenge. Teachers had unilaterally entered the class into the Maths Challenge, while the PE exam was a performance evaluation situation. He opted to take the PE exam. Immediately, the maths teacher emailed us to say that all the other students affected by the conflict had opted to attend the Maths Challenge and the PE teachers had been very understanding. She saw this as further evidence of his lack of commitment to the subject.

My response, then and now, is: SO WHAT? What is the relevance of what the other kids chose to do, and how the teachers reacted to it? He had a decision to make and he made it. There seems to be the view that any child who decides to take maths must regard it as their highest priority, with every other subject paling into insignificance. I reject this notion with every fibre of my being. Yes, maths is important. I would even go as far as to say for a child like my son, it is vital. But since he is showing an increasing interest in physiotherapy/sports science as a career option, surely PE is of equal, if not greater importance?

Sir Ken Robinson touched on this issue of over-emphasis on the traditional sciences in our education system (I have linked to this video before... more than once).

The challenge is trying to find a way to fight the system, without exonerating my child from his rightful blame, without emasculating him and without putting him in an untenable position. Those who have gotten to know me will appreciate how hard it is for me not to storm down to the school with all guns blazing.

Tightrope, anyone?

Image: Tight rope by homme de chevre (aka odetothebigsea)

Some moments are just too important to miss

Will Thalheimer's post about how he and his wife woke their very young daughter to hear Obama's victory speech a very touching and worthwhile read.

There are some moments that are just too important to miss. There are times when what usually constitutes good practice needs to be placed on a backburner. Perhaps the young Ms Thalheimer was grumpy the next day due to a broken night's sleep. So what? A day's grumpiness is surely a small price to pay.

On one of the rare occasions when it snowed in the south east of England, my husband burst through the door very late from work because the traffic had all come to a standstill and he had had to walk home from the station.

"Everybody out!" he shouted, "I have remembered that I am descended from the vikings!" Late as it was, he took our two young lads outside and had them making snowball pyramids into which they placed lit tealights to mark our pathway. They made snow angels long after they should have been in bed. They threw snowballs at each other long after we should have been in bed. It was a moment to grasp (although those who are bored with snow may disagree).

There have been other moments when we have woken our children to share with them a piece of news we have felt couldn't wait until morning.

None of these occasions have been anywhere near as significant as the election of a president who seems set to make history for reasons other than the colour of his skin - although that is, in itself a matter worthy of note. So I applaud the Thalheimers' decision.

I believe it is moments like this that serve as an antidote to the malaise that seems to be spreading across the younger generations in respect of politics: national, local or global.

When I told my own children the results of the US election, my younger son (aged 15) said "I'm glad, because he's cool... and less likely to die in office." I wondered why he should consider it important that the president of the USA should not die in office, but I had to share his relief. After all, if McCain had won and died in office, the next president of the USA would have been the woman who is said to have put the 'alas' in Alaska. Erm. Just no.

Enfranchisement

With the news of the US election dominating the press, it seems an appropriate time to address the issue of enfranchisement. There is a learning connection, I promise!

As we were listening to the news last night, we heard that three thousand lawyers had been sent out across the US to ensure that noone suffered any 'disenfranchising circumstances' (we had heard earlier that there were 5000 lawyers doing this job in Florida alone... don't you wish that the media would get their stories straight?).

I was explaining to my sons what sort of circumstances these might be. I'm not sure that the term disenfranchising is quite appropriate, since that would imply to me that you are struck from the voters' roll. Missing out on the opportunity to vote in a single election, while temporarily disempowering, hardly amounts to the same thing.

Be all this as it may. We are now living in our third town in the UK, and are being told a third version of which of us may and may not vote in the various elections.

Any member of the family who is old enough may vote in the local elections for third tier representatives. Fine. This makes sense, and has remained constant from the off.

With regard to the election of MEPs, we have had a very on-again, off-again situation. My husband (and sons when they are old enough) are eligible to vote in these elections, being Swedish nationals. Fine. No argument there. However, for the first few years that we were in the UK, I was told that I (as a South African national) was not. In our last town, I was told that I was, and was registered as such.

The biggest circus, however, has been in respect of our eligility to vote in national elections. Initially, we were told that none of us had that right, since none of us were UK citizens. Fair enough... although as taxpayers and recipients of the various national services, you would wonder about the appropriateness of this.

In our last town, however, I was sent registration forms. My husband was not. I questioned this and the story even made the local papers as journalists leapt on the iconsistency of information being issued by the various electoral officers. They maintained that he was entitled to vote, whereas I was not. This makes sense. Since my husband requires no visas or permits to live in the UK, but I do, you would think that if only one of us were to be enfranchised, it would be him.

At one stage he was registered and I wasn't. Then we were both registered... and both voted in the last election.

Now we have reverted to the situation where I may vote in all elections, but he may only vote in local and European elections. I have just this minute got off the phone to my local electoral officer who assures me that this is the status quo and has been for a great many years.

Coming to the learning connection:

What training provision is being made for these officers that has resulted in their giving such widely conflicting information? What are the implications of an electoral officer illegally (albeit unwittingly) enfranchising a person... and how on earth does the system not flag this up? I'm even more worried about those who are wrongfully disenfranchised, as I was for the first few years we lived in the UK. There is no system that can flag up that it is lacking data, as far as I know. How many other people are missing out on their one opportunity to exercise their right to say who they want representing their interests to parliament? When you have people out there dealing with the crucial matter of the electoral process, how is it possible that some of them haven't got a clue?

This is a situation where successful training is vital... and it isn't happening!

Barking my shins on a few 'lofty' ideals

On a rare visit to the campus library, I learnt a few disturbing things about academia today. Things that were totally at odds with the principles I thought were inherent in the whole process of learning at this level. Things that sounded an utter discord with the stance taken by the faculty members during lectures.

I sincerely hope that it is only at my university that such experiences occur.

First off, it seems you're not supposed to write anything new. The librarian was tutting over my subject matter, since no past examples of dissertations could be found in the catalogue which covered the same area. In my naivete, I pointed out that someone has to be first, and it might as well be me. The response literally had me dropping my jaw: “Well, that's fine if you're researching for a PhD, but not for a Master's degree.” I said something along the lines that I had hoped that we had moved on from such academic elitism and snobbery, which won me no friends among the library staff within earshot, as you can imagine.

The second thing bothered me far more. It seemed that the only information on record in respect of a dissertation is its discipline, the author's name and its title. No metadata whatsoever. Moreover, they are all kept in an access denied area in the bowels of the library. I had known that they could not be removed from the premises. I had not known that they were stored in the holy of holies! I was not free to go and pick a few at random, read snatches, put them back, find a few others, and so on until I happened upon some that would provide me with usable precedent.

What I had to do was search the e-catalogue and give a list of titles and reference numbers to a librarian who would fetch them for me. This is tough going when you have no metadata to go on. Unless a student had chosen to call his dissertation “A First Person Narrative Exploring XYZ” I was looking for a needle in a haystack. To make things worse, I was looking vicariously, and I was only allowed two at a time.

Groan!

As I was going through this painstaking process, further damaging my popularity rating with the staff who had to run up and down the stairs every time I wanted two new titles, it occurred to me how far removed this whole business was from everything I thought academic learning was about. Not only are these publications stored in the holy of holies, they can only be read by a student or faculty member of the university. While I could only view them two at a time on the premises, you cannot view them at all. Ever.

The thing is, I was told that academic research is a discourse. You do your research and add it to the sum of knowledge. I come along and poke holes in it, or use it to springboard to my own research. How can we do any of this, if the stuff is all kept under lock and key?

After a long and rather fruitless search, I happened upon a PhD thesis called Facilitating Improvements in Teaching and Learning through Self-directed Professional Development (2001) by one Gillian Ann Turner. I was delighted. Although it is set in an entirely different field, addressing a different issue, there was so much in there that set precedent for what I am doing. It's that “self-directed” bit, you see.

It being a PhD thesis, it is something over 400 pages long. Not the sort of thing one can read in an afternoon in the library. And when one lives a two-hour drive from said library, several afternoons in a row are not really a viable proposition. I feel as if I have found a new pair of really comfortable running shoes that do wonders for my stride, but I can only wear them in the shop.

How does all that blood, sweat and toil benefit the knowledge pool if it's light under a bushel?

November's Big Question: getting feedback

This month's big question on the Learning Circuits Blog addresses the issue of getting feedback.

If you need input from people, where's the best place to ask?

The way the question has been posed appears to imply that one is always looking for feedback from experts. I would contend that this is not always the case. First, an analogy:

Some years ago, when attending a 'school of eldership' within our church affiliation, my husband and I were taught that we should each seek to have in our lives a balance people in the roles of Paul, Barnabus and Timothy.

• Paul was the mentor, the teacher, the one whose expertise you sought when you were out of your depth
• Barnabus is often known in the Christian church as 'the encourager' - he was the one you approached when you were looking for someone who would be a sounding board, and who would be unafraid to ask you the difficult questions
• Timothy was the one to whom you were, in your turn, a Paul.

I found this such valuable and universal advice that I have stored it within easy reach, and apply it in many secular situations.

Paul
Paul option 1
My very first port of call is likely to be someone I have identified as an expert - someone I know personally and can approach directly. I have a wide network which covers most bases. The advantage of this is that I can enter into discussion and/or debate with the person, posing questions such as "But what about...?" and "So if....?" in order to check my understanding and tailor the response to the unique constraints of the situation.

Paul option 2
Assuming option 1 has proved to be a no-go, I might post a question on the discussion board of one of my communities, such as LinkedIn or Ning. Some publications also boast a space for questions and community answers - Training Zone magazine has such a space and, although I have not yet posted a question there, I have chimed in with my 2p worth in answer to questions from other community members. The people who occupy this space are usually well-versed in my field and willing to share what they know simply because that's the way they are.

Barnabus
Quite often, I'd like to know what other people's experiences have been and what they have learned from them. In this sort of situation, I might post to a discussion forum, but I might equally publish my question as a post on this blog. I have adopted this approach in the past and received a wonderful range of responses.

Timothy
But, let's say I'm looking into developing a learning resource on XYZ issue. My greatest frustration is that we so seldom have the opportunity to interface with members of the ultimate target audience. We're so busy talking to this stakeholder and that subject matter expert that the one person whose voice goes completely unheard until we have a taDAH! fait accompli packaged with a big pink bow, is the user. This person is NOT an expert. And to my mind, this makes their feedback the most valuable of all.

It is this person whose feedback we should often most actively be seeking. I like the idea of working with a focus group of users to develop a resource. However, in the process, they become familiar with the material and lose their status as naive subjects. I would contend that, when it comes to getting feedback as to the effectiveness of the learning materials/event/whatever, a pilot group of unitiated users should be asked to provide their feedback.

No matter what the experts say, if it doesn't meet the needs of the user, it is not an effective solution.

Why we need the 'when and why'

I have quite often ranted about the need for 'when and why' when delivering staff training, without which I maintain the 'what and how' don't amount to a heck of a lot.

So, let me give you an example.

In the UK, health and safety is a Big (and growing) Issue. Just about every industry has health and safety training. Quite often there are compliance issues involved in order for an organisation to be awarded some or other accreditation.

You can imagine that food preparation is 'right up there'.

So, let's say that in search of lunch, you betake yourself - as I have done countless times - to a little sandwich place that makes sandwiches to order, rather than some or other franchise with prepackaged goods on sale.

The lady who is going to make your sandwich is wearing a latex glove on her right hand. This is obviously for reasons of hygiene. You tell her you would like a coronation chicken sandwich on brown bread with cucumber slices. She proceeds to prepare your sandwich, touching the various components with both the gloved and un-gloved hand. Then she tells you that the sandwich and the banana you've selected will set you back £3.10. You hold out a £5 note, which she takes with her gloved hand. She then operates the till with both hands and passes you your change with her gloved hand, before moving on to the next customer. I ask you with tears in my eyes:

WHAT IS THE POINT OF THE GLOVE?

I once dared ask. The verbal response was, "It's for health and safety." The "Well duh!" written all over her face was not verbalised.

In the past 10 years, I have only encountered two sandwich shops that understand the purpose of the glove, and in both those places, the process went like this:

The lady making the sandwich uses only her gloved hand to come into contact with the food. The ungloved hand never touches it. That hand wields the knife and only touches the wax wrap when the sandwich has been duly covered by the gloved hand and the knife. She handles the money in her ungloved hand - the gloved hand never touches anything but the food. When necessary, she removes the glove to perform a task, washing her hands before replacing it.

In those two places, either the trainer explained the when and why of the matter, or the staff were able to figure it out. I suspect the training at other places went along the lines of "this is what you do..." without ever explaining why it is that you do it. Either the trainer (wrongly, it seems) assumed that the staff would figure that bit out for themselves... or perhaps the trainer didn't know either.

In both places where the hygienic process was followed, I thanked the staff for taking care to do so - I consider it important to commend good practice, rather than simply always highlighting bad practice.

Then there was the time that the man making my coffee opened the sachet with his teeth, but that's another story!

Stephen Downes: ten things you really need to learn

This is not a new post. In fact it's more than two years old now. Nevertheless, the conversations I follow have brough it bubbling back up to the surface again, nad it hasn't lost currency in the intervening period.

Stephen Downes compiled a list of 10 things you really need to learn. These are skills and attitudes that go way beyond the classroom/training room. Indeed, they tend not to feature in the curriculum for either of those two places, more's the pity. Then again, the responsibility rests in a child's early years with parents and family/community as well... and, in due course, with the individual himself. Note the list is not titled, things we really ought to be teaching.

If tomorrow never comes...♫ ♪ ♬

When I was a kid, we used to make the sarcastic crack, "Tomorrow has been cancelled due to lack of interest."

The Shuttleworth foundation has been working on a project called Kusasa, which is the Zulu word for tomorrow. The project was aimed at providing exploratory learning experiences for South African learners. It seems it has indeed been cancelled due to something that pretty much amounts to a lack of interest.

Very sad.

Thanks to Stephen Downes for the pointer.

Customer service: a vote of confidence

Some years back, we bought a rather expensive combination oven. One that had a microwave, convection oven and a grill. Unlike most peopke who splurge on on of these, I didn't come to regret it within a few weeks. I used it almost every day. Then it went wrong, a few days (of course) after the warranty expired.

I took it in for repairs. What a brouhaha. After trying several different places, it seemed that the thing to do was chuck it and buy a new one.

The microwave I have now started life as a comination oven, too, but suddenly started making dreadful grinding noises one day when the convection oven was being used. Same story, it seems. One simply doesn't repair these things. The spares aren't available and no-one has the skills to work on them.

And it seems to be true of most appliances - or such has been my experience, anyway. Gone are the fix-it workshops that used to repair all manner of things.

When something goes wrong with your kettle, you buy a new one. When the iron gets tacky underneath, you buy a new one. When your DVD player starts to play up, you buy a new one.

By contrast, my vacuum cleaner broke the other day. It has this little clip thing that allows the extenion hose bit to revert to being part of the handle. It's a fairly reputable brand (and I'm broke), so I thought I just check out their website.

It seems you can buy pretty much every single part of every single one of their cleaners - even one that is several years old (like mine). I discovered that the broken clip-thing is called a wand release catch and goes for just £2.50 plus P&P. I ordered it forthwith.

I sang their praises for the next two days, telling everyone how their service indicated a confidence in their own product. That they expected the whole to last longer than some of the parts (sorry, dreadful play on words).

The catch duly arrived today and I snapped it in place with ease. I gave the cleaner an experimental push and then pulled it back towards myself. The 'wand' as I had now discovered it was called, came back without the cleaner.

Feeling cheated and disillusioned, I phoned the service desk (number prominently displayed on the side of the cleaner) to complain. The man asked me whether I had popped the spring in place. Spring? In spite of the fact that (as I then discovered) it says "Spring not included" on the order screen for the catch, I had not even noticed that I needed one. "Never mind," quoth the helpful man, "it happens a lot. I'll pop one in the post for you today. No charge."

Now that's more like it! This is service that, as I said, speaks of the manufacturer's confidence in their own product. They make themselves easy to find and, when you find them, they offer you a solution.

They used to run an ad campaign that said the every single new staff member had to go out on to the factory floor and build one of their vacuum cleaners. Everyone, from the most junior to the most senior member of staff has to know how they are constructed and what goes into them. Not only that, but they seem always to be innovating and thinking ahead.

It's official. I'm a fan. My next vacuum cleaner - assuming I ever need one, that is - will be another Dyson.

Moreover, I'm going to take a leaf from their book. I'm going to look for ways to provide that kind of service to my own customers.

When did 'follower' become a dirty word?

I have noticed a tendency lately for the word 'follower' to be equated with being a sheep, with being mindless. As if being a leader is the noble option and being a follower is for those who can't hack it as leaders.

But who does a leader lead if he/she has no followers? And does that leader despise his/her followers for being such? If so, I would venture to say that he/she is not worthy to lead them!

If you are in the position where you lead people, you can only do so effectively if you have their interests at heart, which you are unlikely to do if you hold them in contempt. There was a time when it was trendy and cool to draw organisational flowcharts upside down, indicating the increasing burden of responsibility resting on the shoulders of those in more senior positions. I still prefer to think of it that way. One of my great frustrations is when elected officials fail to listen to the wishes of the people they represent. As leaders, they have a responsibility. When they pay no attention to the wishes of those people and simply pursue their own agenda, they show an utter contempt for the people they lead. I rather childishly hope that the consequence is that they are removed from that position of leadership with the very next round of votes.

I don't see that being a leader and a follower are mutually exclusive, either. You might lead me in one thing, while I might lead you in another. Or you might lead on this occasion, while I might lead on another. It all depends on our skills and the situations in which we find ourselves.

For years I sang in the church band (note: not a choir - that's a different thing). The band had a leader. However, he didn't always lead the worship during the Sunday service. At least once a month, it fell to me to do that. At those times, I led and he followed. When he forgot (as he occasionally did - he was only human) and slipped back into the role of leader, things tended to go somewhat awry as some members of the band watched him and others watched me. Most of the time, though, he and I made frequent eye contact, so that I could let him know what I wanted to happen next.

But I quite often made a claim I maintain to this day: I am a gifted follower... when it comes to a musical context, anyway. Something I have learned is that you can only sing a harmony line if you pay attention to the melody line. It probably comes from years of singing in the school choir. There it was essential to watch the conductor like a hawk, so that we produced perfect harmony and synchronised the beginnings and endings of our words. I have become so practised at it, that I could read Frank's body language when he was leading on a Sunday morning. I knew exactly what he was going to do next, and I could follow him as he did it. Even now that we are in a new church where I am not in the band, I find myself able to read the leader's intentions better than the very young members of her band (no doubt, when they have more experience, they will do just as well).

When my sons were little, it was always important for them to be in front. They would go haring off... often in entirely the wrong direction. There is no point leading if you don't know where you're going. If I know where I'm going, I'm happy to lead. If I don't, I'd far rather follow... as long as the leader doesn't treat me with disdain!

Recently, my husband embarked on a new venture. He got together with a few like-minded individuals and they launched their initiative, which included appointing a leader. I was surprised that he was not that leader, but he was happy for the leadership to go to someone else in whom he had confidence. I'm sure everyone who was present recognises that John would make a good leader, too, but there needs to be one leader, and he was happy not to be it on this occasion. Knowing him as I do, he will give that leader cause to be grateful for his support before long - because he makes a good follower, too!

A good leader will be sensitive and open to suggestions. A good leader will not always impose his/her will on the group. A good leader makes it easy to be a follower.

A good follower makes it easier to be a leader.

When my kids were little and a game degenerated into squabbles, one of them would inevitably yell, "I'm the boss of this game!"

They were kids. What's our excuse?

Personalising learning

ICT Results e-zine has published an article that looks at the use of ICT for personalising learning using a system called iClass.

Initially, the developers tried to design a system that would replace teachers, only to find that this wasn't achievable. I like the idea of the teacher increasingly becoming the tutor/mentor. More guide on the side, less sage on the stage, but I don't think a no-teacher-at-all idea is going to fly any time soon.

At the moment, the tool is aimed at 14-18 year olds. This is cool, don't get me wrong. But I am getting incerasingly worried about what happens after 18. As I touched on in my earlier post today: we seem to be spending a lot of time and money encouraging higher order thinking and learning in our teenagers, only to drum it out of them when they hit the workplace.

The problem is that He-who-signs-the-cheque in the corporate world can't be doing with all this fuzzy research stuff, "What's it got to do with me? I just want my staff being more productive." Their focus is not conducive to a long term view on optimal learning experiences.