Pink's Drive and Motivation

Thanks to a bit of extra free time over spring break, I finally had some time to read Daniel Pink's Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, since I've been lately thinking about the sometimes tenuous relationship that faculty have with professional development (PD.  The first half of the book focuses on the problems of motivation mainly from the perspective of the the business world, but it has clear applications to other fields, especially teaching (Pink offers suggestions for parents and educators later in the book).  The book is fantastic, and Pink is able to articulate much of what most people know from intuition but don't put to practice.  I'll briefly underscore only a few of Pink's points that I found salient to me:

Pink argues compellingly that now is the time for "motivation 3.0", which is based on intrinsic nature in humans "to learn, to create, and to better the world" (225), to supplant reward vs. punishment-based motivation 2.0.  His arguments are all based on scientific studies, which he cites fully in his rather convincing attempt to prove that motivation 3.0 is a real phenomenon that the world just hasn't yet adjusted to.

Pink criticizes the "carrot and stick" model for motivating people to complete tasks in that it simply doesn't work.  While it may have some positive effect for more "algorithmic" tasks, it does nothing for "heuristic" work that requires creative and independent thought (27ff.).  Unfortunately, much of what we do in education is driven by algorithm (e.g. excessive lecturing, needless homework, standardized testing, etc.).

To break from this model, Pink underscores the role that autonomy plays in creating the intrinsic motivation that drives people both to be productive in a given task and to feel fulfilled in their work (83ff.).  He then offers several examples of the "results-only work environment" (ROWE), in which companies have given employees "FedEx" Days (e.g. Atlassian; cf. p. 91) and "20% time" (e.g. Google; cf. p. 94) to use for whatever creative projects they wish to work on, and the results have spoken volumes.

Ch. 6 discusses purpose and the "most underused word in the modern workplace: Why" (137).  I wholeheartedly agree that we don't often enough discuss the "whys" of what we do.  Failing to do so, I fear, can prevent the formation of a strong community, when the goals of a given project aren't immediately clear to those asked to support it.

While considering these ideas, I've been trying to think of ways to implement more 3.0 strategies in education.  My focus right now isn't in the classroom, however, but with faculty ourselves, given that it's very difficult for me to believe we can continue to be strong teachers if we're not doing regular PD.  We're too often busied with administrative tasks (albeit many of which are self-imposed) that we don't have a chance to explore, create, and stay "fresh".  Consequently, even potentially exciting PD work can seem like drudgery for some, rather than creating a sense of "flow" (a somewhat opaque "Zen" concept discussed on pp. 114ff.).

Based on these points, I've listed some ideas I've been churning:

• I'm interested in giving a "flow test" (153-4) or doing an "autonomy audit" (166-7) for both faculty and students.  I will be heading the Student Workload Committee at our school next year and will certainly incorporate some of these ideas.

• I'm thinking about ways to give faculty a periodic "FedEx" day to use as they please.  How would this look?  Is it even practical?  It's important, to my mind, to give faculty as much autonomy and freedom as we would like to give to our students.

• How could faculty then use "FedEx" days inside the classroom while simultaneously supporting their curriculum?  Cf. Mike Jackson's blog post on his own thoughts for giving students more autonomy.

• How can we restructure our current "team" models to give faculty more autonomy in what they do in their classes?

• Finally, we need to have more "why" conversations to foster community. They need to happen frequently and in small groups, where people can ask questions and feel open in voicing their opinions, even if dissenting.  The lack of teacher collaboration is well known (cf. this article from the Atlantic) and needs to be addressed.

I have more questions than answers right now, but I'm also optimistic that we have the opportunity on the horizon to do some interesting things.  I'd love to hear other reactions from those who have read Drive.  Alternatively, I welcome suggestions for other books.  Find me at @mosspike on Twitter to start a conversation.

What Digital Literacy Means to Me

I've been excited to share my thoughts on digital literacies for #ETMOOC, but I've had trouble thinking through the questions and framing them in my own experiences.  It's one thing — and a relatively easy one, at that — to restate the communis opinio on "digital literacy", but it's been quite another thing to write down my own take on what the term means to me.

The last question for #ETMOOC topic #3 and its connection to "participatory culture" struck me as the most important and most difficult to write on:

"What are the problems inherent in defining literacy, fluency, skills, and competency today (e.g., using terms like 21st century literacies, digital fluency), and how do these affect curricular development, pedagogy, and the work of teachers and students?"

The inherent problems that exist for defining the term "digital literacy" are rooted in familiarity (cf. the LCL MOOC's Session 2 "Gears" assignment).  Because there are so much technologies that one can be "literate" or "fluent" in, let alone some many types of fluencies, it's hard to give a simple definition of the term, and I understand the frustrations that arise in discussions of them, especially my own.

Along those lines, I was recently thinking about a statue of Buddha that belongs to the Norton Simon's permanent collection in Pasadena.

Buddha Shakyamuni from Gandhara c. 200 CE at the Norton Simon Museum

What makes this particular Buddha sculpture interesting to me is it's Greek influence.  This Buddha, found in Gandhara (modern Pakistan) and dating to around 200 CE, is one of many examples of the well-know class of Graeco-Buddhist art that shows influence from Greek art, which is a result of the conquests of Alexander the Great in the 4th c. BCE, who introduced Greek ideas into the East.  Unlike the standard examples, his gown resembles the flowing garments common to Greek sculpture, as do the curls in his hair. 

Alexander's impact on the world was profound.  By conquering such a large area of land at the time, he was able to spread Greek culture much farther than it ever extended.  Likewise, he was able to bring foreign ideas back to the West, which led to an explosion in new thinking and creativity throughout the empire.  And what he left behind was radically different from Classical Greece.  With the newfound increase in communication, the Hellenistic period became smaller but much more exciting and vibrant, with unprecedented cultural borrowings and sharing that made new ideas possible, like the "Greek" Buddha above.

This is what digital literacy is for me.  Right now, we're experiencing a similar telescopic enrichment in education and pedagogy, thanks to digital technologies that make it possible for us to communicate in ways we'd never thought were possible 50 years ago.  The new "Silk Road" has been paved by blogs, Google+, Twitter and other forms of social media that people from all over the world use to share old ideas and build new ones.  Much like the Graeco-Buddhist art, our new ideas built using these channels represent a syncretism of thought, rather than unilateral movement.

With that, what I think it means to be "digitally literate" is critically dependent on what's been called "participatory culture" (cf. Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture), and it's not unlike Buddha Shakyamuni wearing a Greek himation, but still displaying his customary mudra, and with a Greek haircut, but with his usual ushnisha.  What makes this sculpture extraordinary and novel for its time wasn't the technology that was used to carve it, but the confluence of different ideas that were put into it.

Returning to the second part of the #ETMOOC question above, namely how the problems of the definition of digital literacy affect curriculum development and pedagogy, I think, in my professional development role, that the frustrations that some feel in engaging with the ideas of literacies has to do, at least in part, with the belief that tools are being forced on them.  Moreover, some may feel that new modes of thought are unwelcome, in that they want to be the ones disseminating ideas to students, or just aren't yet comfortable putting their own ideas in public view, and I understand that.  But that's not what Alexander did in the East, and that's not what social media is doing to education.  In order to overcome these problems and assuage the fears, we've got to prove that the results are more powerful than ever.

Sure, the competency in technology is important, but competency alone isn't what makes one digitally literate.  I am familiar with various sorts of technology, but it wasn't until I started exploring different paths and engaging with the rest of the world that I really gained a higher literacy and understanding of what we can accomplish with the tools.  I had no idea what sorts of new and exciting ideas were being discussed just beyond my traditional reach, but thanks to social media I am now having fantastic conversations about blogs and digital storytelling, for instance, while making new contacts and blending new ways of thinking with my own.

To be "digitally literate", to my mind, is to take the necessary steps for exploring the many communicative paths that technology provide for the sharing of information and ideas.  It's dependent upon a sense of adventure and an openness to different ways of thinking.  And it also requires a willingness to embrace new ideas, especially challenging and difficult ones, while integrating them with established ideas.  One must be competent in using specific technologies to find and share ideas, but there's also a necessary component of culture "awareness" that belongs with using them.  I want this for students, as they learn to navigate this world.

I don't think I've done much here to simplify the definition of digital literacy or disambiguate any of its problems.  But that's how I've come to an understanding of it in my own terms, and I'm looking forward to continuing the conversation.

My Childhood "Gears"

Seymour Papert's "Gears of My Childhood", the foreword to his book Mindstorms: Children, Computers, and Powerful Ideas, serves as our first LCL activity to share.  Briefly, Papert reflects back on his love of mechanical gears, viewing them as an adaptive model onto which he was able to overlay new and potentially difficult concepts in a familiar way. In his words, "[a]nything is easy if you can assimilate it to your collection of models."

Chaisson and McMillan

An astronomy textbook was my childhood gears.  No older than 6, I still remember being in the bookstore in the Meadows Mall in Las Vegas and finding the book.  I can no longer recall the title or authors, nor am I sure I even know where the book is anymore, but I was compelled at that moment in the mall to have it.

Thoroughly engrossed by the pictures, I studied every page of the book.  But I also read through it over and over again and was particularly fascinated by the planets.  I made "information" sheets for each of them and asked my mom to make copies, along with images taken from the book, which I then distributed to my friends, so that they could also become experts in one or two of the planets.  So, for Christmas one year, my parents bought me a telescope.  And in the middle of a cold winter night in 1986, my dad took me out to the mountains to look at Halley's Comet, which is still one of my favorite childhood memories.

This book fueled my love of science and astronomy in particular because, in retrospect, I was fascinated at how we could come to know about objects that were so far away from us.  I was fascinated by knowledge and the process by which we acquired it.  I was captivated by the challenge that we had to overcome to send probes into space that would send information back to us.  And most of all, I was infatuated by connected systems that influence each other and work together, not unlike Papert's gears.  On account of that, my love of astronomy transformed to a love of chemistry, physics, and then engineering; but everything came together when I found historical linguistics, studying languages as connected systems that evolve through time.  It's hard to believe, but there are quite a number of similarities between astrophysics and historical linguistics.  And thanks to my obsession with that book, I've been able to use these similarities to make more sense of the both of them.

Recreational Items from Unfortunate Events

The Hammer Museum in Westwood hosted an exhibition titled Recreational Items from Unfortunate Events that ended today.  It was centered around a collection of piñatas that were made by Sarah Bay Williams and based on a number of "unfortunate events", and the piñatas were on display in the museum until today, when they were ceremoniously smashed apart.  The bashing symbolized a catharsis, or a sort of letting go of attachment to the event each piñata was connected to.

Given how we're looking at digital storytelling in #ETMOOC, I wanted to share this with the class.  Though it's not technically "digital" storytelling, I enjoyed this approach to telling a story and engaging with it and think that it could lend itself to digital stories in interesting ways.  It's given me some ideas to think about, as I continue to develop storytelling as a tool, including the potential value of cartharsis in a story (especially for Classical myth!).

Thoughts on Interest-Based Learning

Our second session assignments for the MIT Medial Labs Learning Creative Learning MOOC is to, in part, read through some of +Joichi Ito's blog posts on learning and respond with our own thoughts about what we found most surprising or interesting, and offer disagreements or questions, should we have any.  Moreover, we're challenged to keep it short, so I'll refrain from delving more deeply into the ideas below.

The first thing that comes to my mind in Ito's discussions of "Formal vs. informal education" and "Reading the dictionary" is the debate between content vs. creation that I've been thinking about for a while (cf. a recent blog post on the question).  The formal system that the majority of schools currently work with certainly needs adjustment, but I don't think that the system alone is to be blamed for its inability to engage interest-driven students, namely, the students who enjoy reading the dictionary.  We've got to adapt and find new and interesting ways to motivate them.  When Ito wonders "how many people have personalities or interests that aren't really that suited for formal education, at least in its current form", I first read this sentence as a reference to teachers, rather than students.

I've recently picked up Susan Cain's Quiet:  The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking to help me to work toward an understanding of how introverted learners will be able to adapt in a more open, student-centered classroom (N.B.: that's not the focus of the book, but rather a question I have).  If we were to radically modify our system to the purely informal model, would we exclude all the learners who thrive in the formal, structured system (e.g. Ito's sister), like many of the introverts at our school?  Is there a proper balance between the two extremes, and if so, what does that classroom look like?

I enjoyed "Dubai and learning about the unknowable", partly because I'm currently reading Watts' Way of Zen, and partly because I've tried to build mindfulness and self-reflection into my daily routine, not only in teaching but in everything that I do.  In fact, I had a chat with a colleague about the need for us to continually reflect on why we do what we do with technology throughout the process of integration.  Given how "traditional" and content-based our school is, leaving us with little time to reflect back on everything we do in a given academic year, it's the perfect place to learn to "meditate" on these questions.  Once we're comfortable knowing that we don't know all the answers and definitions of the pedagogical "buzzwords" that we've been throwing around lately, we can relax and start moving forward.

Digital Storytelling and Narratology

We've been experimenting with digital storytelling in #ETMOOC over the past two weeks, so I've been thinking about ways to incorporate them into my Latin courses.  Some closing thoughts, before we move on to digital literacy:

Today, I introduced the Latin IBs to Project 3, our digital story.  They're asked form a group of 2 or 3 and record a video dialogue.  I've suggested that they use the Oxford Latin Course story as a point of departure and build a side story around some of the main characters.  Alternatively, they can build on some of the myths we've read together or even just make up an entirely new story.  First, they'll work through their script using a Google Doc, before beginning the video recording, which should also help me to keep tabs on their progress.  I've shared with them a few of the video tools I've been exploring, but I think that video may be easiest to record using YouTube Capture, given that most of our students have iPhones, but we've got cameras for loan in our library too.  All video editing can be accomplished within our GAFE YouTube account, though I think kids will default to iMovie or MovieMaker.  Finally, they'll share the video by uploading it to YouTube and submitting the link to me via a Google form.  Fortunately, they were really into it, and I'm looking forward to watching the finished products (they're due Wednesday, 3/13).  I'm holding out hopes, though, that a few groups will do Latin animations with GoAnimate.

In Latin III, we're currently reading through Apuleius' Cupid and Psyche myth, and I'd like to build a deeper understanding of the myth by thinking about story in a different way.  Earlier in the year when we were just getting started with CP, I introduced Vladimir Propp's conception of narratology and his 31 "narremes" to them, which is always fun.  And now that we're near finishing it, it's time for us to do more discussion of its structure.  They've been recording their nightly reading notes in a blog that's helped them to collaborate and interact with each other (more than I anticipated too, which is another post for another day), and I've asked them to blog some questions over this long weekend, including an option on narratology:

• Within in the list of 31 narremes, where are we in CP right now? 
• What do you expect will happen in the rest of the story, based on what has already happened?  
• How well does Propp's system work for CP and why or why not?

Later next week, I'll ask them to respond to each other and put their thoughts to the test, and when we finally finish the story, I'll have them look for parallels in modern stories.  While this exercise doesn't involve digital storytelling in and of itself, they're still engaging with the story in an active way, intuitively thinking about where the plot will take them.

I'll test out a smaller project to do with my Latin I class (Blabberize?  An animated GIF?) later this spring so I can start to imagine how they can do this kind of work during class, when our 1:1 program begins next fall.  These short stories should be perfect for in-class exercises.

To be honest, I thought students would enjoy these sorts of projects, but I've been surprised at just how enthusiastically they have embraced them.  Not only does the technology make it relatively do do digital storytelling projects, but they really help students to do things with the language in fun and engaging ways.  It's win-win for all of us.

What's the Value of Foreign Language?

Bolchazy-Carducci is one of the more prolific publishers of Classical texts, and they've done a lot of great work for Greek and Latin teachers that has helped to make our jobs easier.  In their February eLitterae newsletter, Sherwin Little's Little's Bits column "A Latin teacher wears many hats..." addresses the complexities of a Latin teacher's job, which often requires us to serve in part as a "public relations specialist" to help keep our numbers strong.  Now that it's time for students to start signing up for next year's classes, the question of why one should choose to study Latin is again placed under the microscope, and the recent news that the Pope's resignation was delivered in Latin has been in wide circulation as more proof of its importance (no fewer than 5 colleagues have independently emailed me news about this in the past week!).  I certainly do believe that PR is a big part of game in this field, as anyone who does JCL club work knows all too well.

At any rate, Little's column today reminds me of an article a few colleagues and I read last summer, Bryan Caplan's "The Numbers Speak:  Foreign Language Requirements are a Waste of Time and Money".  In short, Caplan argues that learning a foreign language is irrelevant and unnecessary in this day and age.  He backs off somewhat at the end of the article, confessing that he actually "got a lot of value" through his German studies, but he thinks that the majority of Americans don't have the same experience (if interested, I suggest reading through the comments to the article for a myriad of varying opinions).  It's a preposterous argument, but it also raises some very interesting questions about the state of affairs in foreign language vis-à-vis the growing importance technology in education, and it's clear that it's not just Latin that's under fire.

What's interesting here, to my mind, is the perceived value of foreign language in our culture.  Foreign language teachers can easily, even if not effectively, dismiss a poor argument like Caplan's from our point of view as language teachers, but it also underscores the challenges that we face in creating a valuable classroom experience for our students.  I read Caplan's article as a call for foreign language teachers to defend why we believe that what we do is important.  If we accept the challenge, it's a great exercise for us to do some self-reflection and actually articulate these reasons, rather than simply dismiss Caplan's claims, without further thought.  Cf. a similar challenge issued by Andrew Hacker in his article "Is Algebra Necessary?" in the NYT last July that math teachers have taken up.

In the comments, several people have asked if Caplan's argument applies to all academic subjects in our schools, like algebra and science, given that most Americans don't use them on a daily basis.  I don't think so, though.  Math and science are privileged right now (and being a former engineer I'll never say that they shouldn't be), and as such they receive quite a deal of publicity, especially at our school, which held a very public STEM day last year, complete with all kinds of interactive events and activities.  Even the arts have frequent public showcases and special assemblies here, but foreign language (and indeed the humanities in general!) has no such days for public celebration, where kids get to share their work pridefully with the community.  And though kids do enjoy their foreign language classes, in general, this very culture that promotes science has also taught our students to undervalue language study, in comparison to the more "popular" subjects.  I suffered from this myself in in high school, when I loaded up on math and science, while loathing my Spanish classes, since I saw relatively little value in it.  Thanks to the growing popularity of STEM work and now President Obama's endorsement of STEM education, administrations aren't going to automatically put foreign language departments on equal footing with the math and science anytime soon.  The burden, then, is on us to make language study more worthwhile.  We have to do a better job of earning attention and making students want to take more languages classes for reasons other than financial gain or status.  Even the Yudhijit Bhattacharjee's NYT article on "Why Bilinguals are Smarter", though insightful, is pragmatic and so doesn't do much to bolster the intrinsic appeal that language study can offer.

Ultimately, though, pitting physics against Spanish and chemistry against Latin is a loosing battle, not because the languages can't win, but because education shouldn't be about competition. Where Caplan's argument fails most — and even where much of the argumentation for taking Latin errs, I think — is in the compartmentalization of academia, in treating foreign language in isolation from other subjects.  Language study will not evolve, unless we change our approach for teaching and learning them.

Caplan's compartmentalization doesn't facilitate community, which languages necessarily depend on.  The trouble that language programs have found themselves in, whether now or in past generations (e.g. Latin in the 1960s), seem to be a direct result of the lack of a strong communal focus that leaves students feeling unengaged and unfulfilled.  Today, there are a number of great tools that can help us to strengthen them within the classroom, e.g. PLNs, blogs, digital storytelling, and I'm sure there exist other ideas to explore that I'm not even aware of.  I see no reason my foreign language courses can't work beside English, history, art, and even math and science courses to do more connected work through the use of these tools.  Despite the fact that we don't teach Latin as a living language (though there are arguments about oral Latin), we derive the strength of our program from the strong community of students and teachers here.  I don't expect many of our students to pursue advanced degrees in Classics or linguistics, but I'm confident that the majority of them won't believe in 20 years that what they're doing right now is is pointless.  In fact, a significant fraction of our Latin students begin study of a third language in 9th grade solely because they've enjoyed learning how language works.

Several colleagues at our school have questioned the technological directions that we're taking, but for me, that's really what all this "technofuss" is about:  community and interconnectedness.  Or as Little put it, creating a "buzz" in our classes.  Having to have relied on the strength of our community for the sake of numbers in the past, I'm a big believer in its importance for engagement.  With all the new tools at our disposal now, we can build the kinds of communities that we never imagined in the past.  We've necessarily had to adopt various strategies for creating a strong Latin culture within our program without technology, and now that we have new tools, we can do an ever better job on an even larger scale.  I'm excited to put on yet one more hat, and I hope that others do the same.

Over the next few months, I plan on detailing some of the new directions with technology that our department would like to take, as we plan for our 1:1 program in the fall.  But for now I welcome others to share their own ideas for developing stronger communities and promoting more engagement between students and even classes.