Some days, the technology wins

Today is one of those days.  Actually, it's one of those weeks.  How much I appreciate technology when it works is exactly how much I am frustrated when it doesn't.  And here's the thing that should give us all pause: We are far too dependent upon technology for our day-to-day existence.

I'm not a Luddite, nor am I an innovator...not even an early adopter.  Technology of any form should, I believe, make my life easier or better in some way.  Some times it does.  I'd put the electric iron, air conditioning, telephones, and electricity squarely in the corner of Easier or Better in Some Way.  Computers and the attendant peripherals tap dance all over the line between Easier-Better and something best spelled with far fewer letters.  And as cell phones become more computer than phone, they, too, slip further from Easier-Better.

There was a time when we all knew the telephone numbers of our parents (or children, depending upon our age), neighbors, local businesses, and close friends.  Far too many of us don't know the work or cell phone numbers of our spouse or closest friends; when the cell phone stops working, we are frighteningly helpless.  As a friend of mine asks frequently, what will happen when someone unplugs the cord?

The source of my pique today is a recent issue with my home modem, which seems to have stopped working due to a storm-related power surge.  These things happen (though not, I might add, to my books, pens, or paper....just sayin') and the modem was still under warranty.  Installed the new modem and...the wireless router won't allow a connection. After close to an hour on the phone with the helpful (yes, they really were) people at A.T.&T., we reach the end of the support they can provide.  Only when I am left on my own to do the requisite research do I learn that the router has been "phased out" (that's Greek for "we are now making something else that costs a lot more") and is no longer supported.  Would have been nice to know that when I replaced the decrepit modem two months ago.  In order to have wireless access, I am now forced to buy another piece of technology.  All I get to decide is which piece and at what cost.

Lest you think I am overstating the case of our tech-dependency and helplessness, here's what happened when I previewed this post mid-way:

Today, the technology won.  We'll see how tomorrow goes.

Red letter days

Our learning management system (LMS) was upgraded over the weekend, with two immediately noticeable results: (1) new tools and features to keep me busy and (2) red warning messages informing me that work I spent hours putting into the LMS is problematic.  The work is problematic for the LMS...which translates to problematic for me.

Because we have amazing technical support, my red warning messages were tackled quickly. The support folks tried telling me to just stop changing things (since the messages only popped up when I attempted edits), but that's challenging for inveterate tweakers. We found the issue, I'm free to tweak, and the red is gone.

But my response to seeing those serious-looking red messages gave me pause.  Red has long been the color of choice for educators and editors, creating a knee-jerk response that seems at odds with the use of red to signify days or events of import.  How did the color red come to mean danger, importance, celebration, and failure, all at the same time? And whose idea was it to take a color initially reserved for "particularly important or significant information" and associate it with poor work or, worse yet, with feedback?  

As an educator who is currently taking one course and teaching two others, I am both giving and receiving feedback, assignments, and grades.  Learning really should feel more like a red letter day than it usually does...and I am far more aware of the importance of every piece of the academic environment, from tone of voice in a verbal exchange to use of salutation in a written message. 

I want my interactions with students to be significant, to be red letter days in the best possible sense of the word.  And that means taking the time to view everything (syllabus, LMS content, email...) as an opportunity to create meaning and significance.  Here's to red letter days that celebrate the failures that engender learning.

In search of...

The day after I wrote about struggle, Seth Godin wrote about the value of effort:  "The work of an individual who cares often exposes the grit and determination and effort that it takes to be present."  His conclusion is that we may be searching for--and unable to find--the person behind the perfection.

In praise of struggle

This morning, part of the class discussion was "why would anyone want to be a CEO, given the stress and pressure?"  After class, a student stopped me to ask whether I was familiar with how (differently) Japanese companies approached leadership.  Later, I happened upon an NPR story about how Eastern and Western cultures tackle learning. Now I'm wondering about cultural and individual approaches to success--to how we learn and to how willing we are to struggle.

While acknowledging diversity within each of the cultures, as well as the existence of "counter-examples," the NPR article states that "(f)or the most part in American culture, intellectual struggle in schoolchildren is seen as an indicator of weakness, while in Eastern cultures it is not only tolerated, it is often used to measure emotional strength." Think about that for a minute.  The implication is that, in our Western culture, success should appear effortless and easy.

The article suggests that equating struggle with strength (rather than with weakness) means that we are more likely to demonstrate the very persistence required for success. And I'm sure I've heard this somewhere before:

Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.  Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent.  Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.  Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.  Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.  The slogan Press On! has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.

Calvin Coolidge understood the value of struggling, of persisting, of pressing on, of just not giving up.  It may be one of the most important--and most universal--lessons available.

Perhaps easy isn't really...or shouldn't be.

Student frustration...revisited each semester

"You're frustrated in my class," I say.  The student agrees emphatically, telling me that he is not learning, not being given substance, not being given deadlines, not being given lectures from which he can learn.  And we have arrived at the point where learning may actually begin.

I ask him if he's read the syllabus...and he tells me that he has not.  I ask if he has started on the assignments due in the course...and he has not.   He tells me that he is seeking substance and does not believe I am giving him any, since the class is mostly "free time" during which he feels compelled to be productive...by working on assignments for other classes.

He does have a point about the lack of structure during the class period, as there is very little.  But the lack of structure is by design and I am learning a great deal about my students by watching (in a leadership class, by the way) how they approach unstructured opportunities to learn and to lead.

And I have, indeed, given the students a great deal of substance, if one considers the textbook, articles from MIT on leadership, and bookmarks to the material I research and read on a near-daily basis to be substantive.  All of this material--the substantive material this student has been seeking--is...guess where?  It's all hyper linked on the syllabus. The syllabus I reviewed and explained on the first day of class.  The same syllabus I've referenced several times since the first day of class.

So, now the time is ripe to tell the student that my issue with lecturing is that students don't listen until a need has been created.  For the most part, we filter out information that we do not perceive as useful.  But the student and I have now discovered a need for information, information that has been available (but ignored) since the beginning of the semester.

It really was a good discussion, once he believed that my goal is his learning.

Student frustration is (still) too valuable to waste.