digital digs

Learning from Assignment Zero

Jeff Howe recently offered some reflection on Wired's crowdsourcing journalism project, Assignment Zero. As noted in the Wired article and discussed at Smart Mobs and around the web, the project is being described as either a modest success/productive failure. You can go to the article for the details, but the lessons learned from the project are useful ones for thinking about crowdsourced composition projects, such as the work I do with NeoVox and in many professional writing classes.

It turns out the designing a crowdsourced project is not unlike developing a constructivist pedagogy. On one hand, you need to provide sufficient structure for the participants. As Jay Rosen, NYU professor and head of the project noted, “you have to be waaaay clearer in what you ask contributors to do. Just because they show up once doesn’t mean they’ll show up over and over. You have to engage them right away.” A lack of structure led many would-be participants to drift away. On the other hand, you need to allow participants to establish their own structures, to allow their passions and interests to shape the project, and build a community. Howe explains that as the Assignment Zero team sought to repair the project, they

made the decision to shift the goal from producing scores of feature stories to producing scores of interviews. Asking contributors to 'write the story on open-source car design' had all the appeal of asking people to rewrite their college term papers. Asking them to talk to someone they admire and respect was met with a far warmer response.

Yes, what could be more emblematic of an uninspiring, purposeless writing task than the "college term paper." No one would ever want to write one of those, right? And yet, one of the more interesting lessons from the project is the wide variety of motives that do inspire people to join crowdsourced projects including improving one's reputation in a community, developing a particular skill, and the possibility of financial gain. (Hmmm... it would strike me that students go to college and select courses for similarly complex sets of reasons.)

Thoughts on teaching with Second Life

                 

A discussion of some of the ideas shaping my thinking as I approach teaching in Second Life in the fall.

writing studies and professional writing

Much talk today about the CCC article by Douglas Downs and Elizabeth Wardle, which builds on the growing (perhaps) argument for revising first-year composition as a writing studies course. Basically what this means is that the course would serve as an introduction to our discipline--its research, methods, questions and so on. As I've said before about this question, I come at it probably as about as much as an outsider as one could be while still retaining some professional and intellectual interest in the matter. I occassionally teach FYC at my college, but our Professional Writing major is largely divorced from the first-year program.

Of course, I would like to see our FYC program as introducing students into professional writing, something they might choose as a minor or (gasp!) major. One of the stumbling blocks for me has always been the difficulty of training FYC instructors to teach in this way. One possibility that was raised was that instructors might be trained through the course textbook. Hmmm... ok, I guess that would be a start, but do you want to take an Intro to Biology course that was taught be someone whose knowledge of the subject came from reading the textbook?

Essentially, if the premise is that FYC is going to become professionalized in a new way or perhaps to a greater degree, depending on how you think of it, then the instructors will also need to be professionalized. You would also need to figure out what that professionalization would be.

Listing potential online readings for fall courses

I just put in my book orders for the Fall semester, a little late I know, but in this field, one is always dealing with fresh material, so there is much to consider. In any case, I also generally supplement my readings with online material. Next semester, I'm teaching two classes and supervising our internships (which technically is also a class). I'm teaching Writing in Cyberspace, which is a professional writing course that introduces students to convergent media and networked composition in both theoretical and practical terms. I'm also teaching FYC in a first-year learning community called Digital Living. I'll be dealing with similar issues there, but I'll be working with my colleagues who will be teaching video production and digital photography. As such I think I can develop a single reading list and draw on material for both for my course.

So here's my list as it grows. Suggestions welcome.

The challenges of the creative class for professional writing students

student career paths

Understandably, students in professional writing really expect/hope that their coursework will lead to a career in writing. What kind of career? Lot's of different kinds: editors, journalists, novelists, writing teachers (on to grad school), new media content development, public relations, etc. So I guess I'm thinking all the time about the changing workplace. Not because I want to "serve the needs of corporate America or global capitalism" or whatever, but because a big part of the reason students come to my college and major in my program is that they want an interesting and creative career as a writer. Obviously I can guarantee such things, but I can at least think about them and try to be responsive.

So that's why I've been talking with others about an interdisciplinary Digital Media Studies MA degree. I already work closely with new media faculty and students in Art and Communications. This would be an extension of that collaboration.

Here's my thinking. Increasingly many of the more basic technical functions of media production--editing text, editing audio and video, basic graphic design, basic web design and desktop publishing--will be outshored. Our students need more than technical expertise, though they certainly need technical expertise as well. Our writers obviously need to be able to compose and edit text for a range of media, but they also need a technical understanding of composition in other media.

It's not that every editor or technical writer or graphic designer or videographer is going to have hir job outshored, but nearly everyone might be at risk. The best of chance of minimizing that risk, in my view, is to develop creative, critical, and rhetorical skills across media, to be an effective communicator in the nexus of convergent media networks. To a degree this is our goal in our undergraduate program but it's not really possible for most students to get there, given where they are starting when they arrive.

The master's program we have in mind is just another three semesters; you could get it done in two semesters plus a summer. But it would be an intensive experience with a range of media. While you can't every really be an expert in all media, our graduates would have a specialization in one media area and a good understanding of other areas. If I could deliver this education on the undergrad level I would. If the majority of our students came in with some experience with new media composition with web design, podcasting, video production, graphic design, then maybe we could. But that's not the reality.

In any case, as this outshoring thing picks up speed, a lot of college careers will be affected. The traditional entry-level jobs will be harder to find, I think, as those will be the first jobs to go abroad. Students will need to compete at the next rung up on the ladder, which already means greater demands for literacy and professionalism. At the same time, the demands of literacy are expanding as I often write about. So that's two kinds of pressures working together.

Right now, it's a race toward 2010. Can we get students up to speed when we are running hard to keep pace ourselves? I'm hoping the collaboration of this graduate program will make this easier.

academic co-working

I've been reading a little about co-working on Smart Mobs and in BusinessWeek. Co-working is a practice whereby individual entrepeneurs, freelancers, and other start-ups share a common workspace. It's cheaper than formal office space, gets you out of your house and out of the local wifi-enabled coffee shop,  and perhaps puts you in contact with others who share your interests. I've been thinking about how this model applies to higher education, to both the work I do and the work our students do in professional writing.

In many respects, professors are like independent contractors. We design and deliver courses independently. We conduct our research independently, especially in the humanities. We have a high degree of academic freedom. Walk down the hall in an English department, and except for those holding scheduled office hours, the doors are closed. If an office door is closed, chances are that no one is in there. Most faculty are on campus two or three days a week. If one teaches online a lot, like I am this semester, there's even less reason to be on campus.

What does the campus have to offer besides a slow internet connection and overpriced food? I suppose the answer, from the perspective of my job, is that it offers common spaces for faculty and class meetings.

So how might a co-working model function on my campus? Well, first you have to recognize that only about 40% of my job is research. While each faculty member has hir own specialization, there is always some overlap, some opportunities for collaboration, which often go unrecognized. The other part is teaching and service. Part of that teaching time is spent in a classroom, but about half of it is grading, planning, and such. This out of class teaching time and our service work are clearly opportunities for collaboration.

The concept of co-working is that it doesn't demand collaboration or sociality but it does facillitate those opportunities by creating a more fluid workspace. Imagine working in a library-like, mostly open space. Some areas are practically silent, except for the tapping of keyboards, with faculty working on research. A couple faculty off to the side are talking quietly. You're working on your own, but there's a sense of fellowship. Other areas are more social. Faculty are sharing ideas about their teaching practices: "Have you ever taught this book? Do you think this assignment makes sense?" And still other faculty occupy meeting rooms taking care of various committee business. A few other small rooms remain open in case a professor needs to meet privately with a student.

I'm not suggesting a giant space for all the faculty at a college but a network of such spaces. Obviously I'm not addressing all the issues here, but in theory I would think you could save a lot space. I mean there's a lot of underutilized faculty office spaces on most campuses.

In any case you might then overlap these spaces with student work spaces. I realize many students might feel uncomfortable working right next to faculty. However some overlap would likely be helpful. Also I think we need to model the type of collegial work habits our students will need to perform.

The atomized monasticism that continues to typify academic life has to change. We can make that change without losing the benefits of academic freedom and gain the benefits of the more dynamic modes of collaboration and co-working that have emergered around us.

affective dependency

Tomorrow is another Open House at Cortland, and it has me thinking again about the issue of marketing. I recognize the notion of marketing seems anathema to some academics, but to me it's fundamentally a matter of simply getting the word out to students about who we are and what we do. I don't see anything wrong with that.

Clearly Professional Writing is somewhat of an acquired taste for undergrads. As often as we hear the cry that students want a practical education that will lead to a job, we don't get students coming in saying "I want to be a technical writer"  or even "I want to do public relations" or some "softer" professional/corporate writing job. Most of our students enter with an interest in creative writing. And as creative writers they are often ambivalent about technology. Professional aspirations (beyond novelist or screenwriter) tend toward editor or perhaps journalist.  There's nothing wrong with these aspirations. However, I think they tend to stem from a couple conditions that limit imagination:

1. Less than positive experiences with writing in institutional contexts, which is where students do the majority of their non "creative" writing.
2. Lack of reading experience beyond literary genres and news media: it's hard to imagine yourself writing something you've never read.
3. Viewing writing as a romanticized, non-technical or even anti-technological activity: can't imagine where they'd get that idea...
4. Little contact with everyday professional writers, while the portrait of "the author" looms large in their experience with writing.

Of course we want to encourage our students' creativity. We want to see it grow and support their writing goals. We also want to see their passion for "creative writing" spread to other genres. We want to help them develop a more sophisticated understanding of writing practices that will hopefully leave them less limited.

This results in a predictable student narrative. The student comes in interested in creative writing and takes a workshop or two. S/he takes our Intro course and has to deal with writing in a variety of genres, which is viewed more as a task than anything else. S/he is required to take our Writing in Cyberspace course and confronts the his/her issues with technology, which sometimes turns out well but sometimes is very difficult.

Then comes Junior year and the students take Technical Writing and Revising/Editing, which are more professionalizing type courses. They are being put on the spot about their looming internships. Seemingly overnight the perspective switches from one that says "I'm interested in creative writing and all this other stuff is a chore" to one that says "this major isn't preparing me for a job."

So I tried this first-year learning community this semester where I designed my course, Writing in the Digital Age, to bring students right into the professional realm. I realized that it would be a bitter pill, so I tried to emphasize the idea of creativity by building very open assignments that would give them room to be creative and expressive. They are producing blogs and podcasts where they are free to discuss whatever interests them. Then we discuss their work in terms of audience and purpose so that they can start to think about directing and shaping their creativity in more strategic terms.

But you know they're really not ready for that either. As much as the students value their creativity, I think they are just strongly conditioned to keep it separate from the classroom. I think there is a such a heavy investment in the classroom as a space of disinterest that even when they define their own projects they often cannot escape their own indifference. The answer to this has always seemingly been for the teacher to be passionate, to bring a passion that infects the students. However, I see this as a kind of affective dependency.

I don't know.  Perhaps students just need to go through this process of maturation and encounter this crisis moment where they suddenly realize they need an education. Sure they realize it now, but right now the need for that education is externally located. Everyone tells them they need to go to college, and they believe it. At some point, they'll need to recognize that the need an education for themselves, for their own goals.

That's when our curriculum suddenly begins to make sense to them. I guess the bottom line is that there's no way that you can learn to become a writer without a real strong self-motivation.  Carrying out the motions of the classroom, writing X number of pages for the assignment, and so on just won't do it.

It's just a hard thing to explain to a high school senior.

Cortland's iTunes U experiment: week one

Here's my update on Cortland's iTunes U experiment.

Long on tail, short on students

I’ve just finished Chris Anderson’s Long Tail. It’s a quick read and an interesting book, though you can certainly get the main point by reading his Wired article and the many discussions of it around the web. However I do have a couple comments to make about the book.

First, Anderson begins the book by discussing the example of a 16-year old named Ben, who lives in the North Berkeley Hills.  Anderson uses him as an example of our potential access to a wide range of niche cultures and media, as well as our possibilities for producing our own media. Of course you need the right computer and software and video camera and ipod and cell phone and so on.  Anderson’s point here isn’t to occlude the digital divide. He acknowledges this is a kid growing up in an affluent context. The point, I think, is to see the possibilities.

I bring up the example because it makes me think about my own students. For the most part, they aren’t so affluent. Many really need to work to make ends meet. Still most have many of these devices and what they don’t have they can get access to on campus.  But I’m not quite seeing these students on my campus, at least not in large numbers. These would be the students who are not so locked into mainstream television, movies, and music.  These would be the students who watch videos and listen to audio and say, “I could make that.”  Obviously that’s not true of network television or Hollywood movies; that kind of media requires a tremendous budget. I’m looking for those students who want to participate in the emerging cultures of the blogosphere, YouTube, MySpace and so on, who want to use these venues to publish their own media.

Why am I interested in such students?

That’s my second point, which follows on observations I’ve made in discussing Tom Friedman, Dan Pink, and Richard Lanham. Anderson notes three forces creating the long tail. The first relates to what I’ve already mentioned: the increasing ease of production, particularly media production. Sure maybe you want to create a hit, but on the other hand maybe you just want to say what you want to say and get your message out to the right audience. Here is a space for writers, maybe “professional” writers, but maybe just good writers working in a space where amateur and professional lose their meaning.

The second force is distribution, getting your media to that audience. In part this is a technical problem, but it is also a rhetorical one. Designing media that will not only engage its audience but help that audience discover it in the first place. That’s a rhetorical challenge.

The third and final force is filters: an important part of these filters is the blog that gives us inside information and reviews. The task is to be able to inform and review but also to engage and entertain an audience. Clearly one cannot appeal to everyone or even most people. A blog is not Wal-Mart. In fact, the narrow focus of a blog is the foundation of its appeal. Developing that narrow focus takes rhetorical skill.

Admittedly, it may be difficult to imagine a paying job in these instances. That is something where we will have to wait and see what unfolds. However, if Anderson and others like him are right, there will be a demand for people who can devise engaging media and capture consumer attention, the scarce commodity in this equation.

So to answer my own question, I’m looking for students who want to shape a life for themselves in this space. In short, I’m looking for students like Anderson’s Ben who bring a native understand of these spaces. Maybe they’re coming. Maybe they’re already on campus but hiding.

We’ll see.