We’re back in familiar territory for me on this one, though it’s less on my mind at a community college. Our faculty aren’t the ones doing a lot of the publishing, but we certainly benefit from others publishing OA.
One of the main places my mind goes when I consider OA and this ideal future of all OA research, is finding it. Probably because I’m a librarian, right? As I mentioned in my “Are We There Yet?” post, one of the concepts I sometimes try to emphasize to students is that searching for any kind of depth of purpose is a lot more challenging. Google can provide a very good answer or two very quickly. It’s not good at exhaustively searching and providing every relevant thing to you. You start scrolling down or paging through your Google results and pretty quickly you see the pages aren’t all that helpful. Google wants to have fantastic precision, not recall. Library databases are looking for great recall. They are also much more limited in the resources they provide to the user. They provide facets and filters and controlled vocabulary to help you search more powerfully.
My point is that I think the database layer of library resources will still have a purpose even if all of the content itself is OA. My hope would be that it’s a whole lot cheaper. But I think the tools and added functionality will probably still be of value in assisting the finding of the OA things. Unless someone out of the goodness of their heart wants to create a free version that works really well… But I think in this case, actually paying someone is a better idea in terms of reliability. That’s often the snag with open, free content.
In addition, I think publishers would argue that they add value to the published content through editing, marketing, etc. You can take issue with that and disagree, but I think that would be the publisher counterpoint.
As an E-Resources Librarian, another place my mind goes is… what about the usage data? I wouldn’t need it to determine cost effectiveness if the content is all OA, but I would certainly still want to understand the usage of resources by Germanna students in particular. What are their research habits and how can we better serve them? We use the usage information we get from our databases to help inform us in that. I don’t know how we would get that information otherwise, unless we kept a search layer from our vendors at the least.
And that’s the end of my scattered thoughts about OA.
I was a bit daunted when I was asked to be a co-director for the Open Access week of OpenLearning17, and had mixed feelings when I realized that my co-director was a total stranger in Egypt. Would this person be a good collaborator (yes!) and how would we plan a week of activities together when we were so many miles apart (Google Docs!). I could not imagine a better experience. Maha and I both embraced the spirit of collaboration from the start and have had a great synergy and a likeness of mind, but also a welcome diversity of experience and knowledge. I hope that will come through in the activities we have planned for week 7.
So from this learning facilitator’s perspective, OpenLearning17 has definitely been a connected learning experience, both as a student and as a learning facilitator. I have learned a great deal through connecting with Maha and through our collaborative design of the learning experience for week 7 and I hope she feels the same. Teaching is always a learning experience for the teacher and I am grateful for having been nudged out my comfort zone (that is where the best learning experiences happen!).
I hope you enjoy week 7 as much as I have enjoyed planning it with Maha!
I was a bit daunted when I was asked to be a co-director for the Open Access week of OpenLearning17, and had mixed feelings when I realized that my co-director was a total stranger in Egypt. Would this person be a good collaborator (yes!) and how would we plan a week of activities together when we were so many miles apart (Google Docs!). I could not imagine a better experience. Maha and I both embraced the spirit of collaboration from the start and have had a great synergy and a likeness of mind, but also a welcome diversity of experience and knowledge. I hope that will come through in the activities we have planned for week 7.
So from this learning facilitator’s perspective, OpenLearning17 has definitely been a connected learning experience, both as a student and as a learning facilitator. I have learned a great deal through connecting with Maha and through our collaborative design of the learning experience for week 7 and I hope she feels the same. Teaching is always a learning experience for the teacher and I am grateful for having been nudged out my comfort zone (that is where the best learning experiences happen!).
I hope you enjoy week 7 as much as I have enjoyed planning it with Maha!
It happened just last Tuesday, and I’ve been reeling ever since.
I was talking with a student during an office visit. The topic of blogging came up. I’m not sure exactly how we got there, but I brought out one of my touchstones, the great “Dackolupatoni” experiment undertaken by a student at Virginia Tech just after a visit to the class by our Distinguished Innovator in Residence, Jon Udell. I could explain all that to you, but I’d really rather you just go read the student’s post (miraculously, several years later, it’s still there–thank you, VT). In a marvelously recursive description of her learning, the student blogged about, and thus enacted, her new understanding of the web’s peculiar, thrilling potential to be both noun and verb. The blog post was about the web, and because it was a blog post to the web, it also became webby itself. It webbed itself. “Dackolpatoni” thus became a small, potent, magically self-enacting instance of the very thing the student had just learned. It became, in Jon Udell’s wonderful metaphor, an “awakened grain of sand.”
The memory thrills me now now less than the experience did then. To have a student, all on her own, craft such an elegant proof of concept! There were several other electric moments in that class, but this one immediately defined a moment that continues to resonate, ever more plangently, throughout the sounding connections of this resonant web. The student’s post is as powerful a demonstration I can imagine of Jerome Bruner’s definition of understanding: “going beyond the information given.” And the going-beyond has now transcended its local context. It has gone beyond its own going beyond! The bright moment continues to expand its sphere of illumination. And the bright moment continues to light my path. So fragile and exquisite a moment, to have proven so remarkably enduring. But of course that was the reason for the student’s experiment to begin with. And the spark that became incandescent was the student’s realization that there were grounds for making that experiment. She became aware of a question to ask.
It was indeed a thrill for me, and remains so, to have been present in the moments leading up to, and away from, that particular moment. I wasn’t there for the moment of the writing, of course. I read that post after the class, after it had been written, after it had already begun to do its work. But reading it, afterwards, as it began to web, I saw something like the red shift that indicates the universe is expanding. I did not see the leap, but I saw the leaping. Spooky action at a distance. The web was the instrumentation that revealed that action, even as it inspired it and made it possible.
Thrilling as that “Dackolupatoni” experience was, it was not a new thrill for me. My experience with the Web has always been one of uncanny connections and near-mystical properties. I know they’re not really mystical properties, really I do, but I continue to marvel at, and seek to emulate and propagate, the conditions and protocols and dreams underlying the technical architecture that makes these properties possible. When I became an administrator at the University of Mary Washington, right about the time there was enormous energy around the idea of “Web 2.0,” I was fortunate to be able to gather a team that was ready and able to help faculty, staff, and students to find and make those uncanny, web-energized connections in their own work. Marvels tumbled out, and the sense of uncanny energies and possibilities seemed to increase with near-exponential intensity and frequency. Those webs kept growing, too–not that everyone understood or welcomed or even acknowledged these miracles in plain sight.
All of which brings me back to last Tuesday, and the student in my office. I had just told her the “Dackolupatoni” story as a way of describing the energy and linking I hoped students could discover (and craft, and experience) in the blogging we were doing for class. I told her about awakening grains of sand. She looked at me, paused, and thought. Then she said something like, “That’s a really interesting metaphor. I’d never thought about the Web that way. Posting something to the Web always seemed to me like sending a message into vast, dark, and empty interstellar space.” And all at once I could see, with newfound clarity, what I’ve been trying to share for years, even when I felt discouraged and baffled by aggressive and sometimes hostile resistance to the very idea of connected learning.
I see with renewed clarity that a core element of what I would call digital literacy, perhaps the core element, is understanding the possibilities the Web holds out to us for awakening grains of sand, of “Dackolupatoni” experiments that have the weird and transformative properties of demonstrating how giving airy nothings a local habitation and a name can make us more at home, and much less alone, within the apparent infinities of our own consciousness. How human agency can scale, not by dwarfing and even consuming those around us, but by equipping us to recognize, and on this platform to demonstrate, the possibility of becoming what Donne describes as “books lying open to each other,” in an environment in which it is possible, in Parker Palmer’s beautiful phrase, “to know as we are known.” Like language. Like love.
A story of two students, then, each of whom taught me crucial things. A story to help explain why “connected learning” is for me not only an aspiration, but pretty close to a redundancy. A story of how permissionless linking generates both spam and the music of the spheres. I hardly know what to say.
Starting a new job has its challenges, one of which is introducing yourself and getting to know your work colleagues. I attended my first faculty meeting several weeks ago. I didn’t know anyone in the room except for my boss, so she introduced me, I smiled and waved, and the meeting went on. It was a fairly typical new employee experience.
Then the inevitable (for me, at least) occurred: when I am introduced as a former physician to a group, there is often at least one person who approaches me after the meeting to ask for one sentence on why I would leave a medical practice. One sentence. I know they don’t want more, because they ask while we are exiting a room, or entering an elevator, or waiting in the food line at a reception. Within one sentence of my explanation, they wander off, usually after shaking their head (as in “what a waste”) or making a comment about student debt.
These situations really bothers me, mostly because of the assumption that questions about my decision to leave medicine can be answered simply, and that they are appropriate for small talk with a very new acquaintance. The fact that it makes me so angry has led me to conclude that there is more to my reaction than frustration at rudeness. When I get angry, it is almost always because I am feeling vulnerable. I know this about myself.
New jobs – new work colleagues, new duties, new workspaces – are opportunities for reinvention: to tell different parts of your past, dress and behave differently, and learn from past mistakes, to be a different sort of work colleague. As I ease into my new role, I find that I have kept my workflows and office decor. Blogging, whiteboards, and interchangeable/temporary gallery-style photos (although this time with a theme and a color palette) are undeniably me, no matter what.
It took 5 weeks, but I can finally walk into my new office and say without a doubt that it is my office pic.twitter.com/zIUe3WuPCR
Nevertheless, I changed my wardrobe. Gone are the Old Navy student duds and in their place is Talbot’s entire deeply discounted winter line (God help me if my mother reads this, since I once told her that I would *never* like anything from Talbots, but yes, it happened. Shh.).
More important, I’m in the process of changing my work narrative…and I think that is why being surprised in the hallway outside the faculty meeting with superficial questioning about my past made me so angry. Despite all the years and reflective blog posts, I have yet to figure out how to talk about what happened when I was practicing medicine. I don’t know how to encapsulate the professional and personal isolation and the systemic sexism and the challenging patient population and the burn out… Not in one minute with a stranger while navigating a crowded space. Not when I’m trying my hardest to make a fresh start without completely wiping the slate clean. I do not know how to handle this situation.
However, I am getting something else right.
When I started in my new position, a position in which I design and teach leadership development for faculty and the community – I made the intentional decision to prioritize self-care and work life balance. I had my reasons. First, I’ve never been anything than a workaholic. Second, I’ve experienced burn out before and left one career, so I’m concerned about leaving another. Third, I really should model what I am teaching.
Also, I want to change who I am at work. I want a different story.
I have worked for and with many people across fields and disciplines. My favorite leaders – the ones I admire and would like to emulate – have been calmly competence, or at least they have been really good at giving that appearance. They are efficient. They do not take their stress out on their subordinates. They delegate well, provide ample feedback and growth opportunities, and give credit where it is due. I don’t mean that in terms of handing out gift cards, I mean that as caring about and respecting their employees. These leaders also seem to take care of themselves – they eat, they look good, they exercise, they read, they get haircuts, and if they need to go to the doctor, then by golly they make an appointment and they go. I presume they do these things because it sustains them and makes them better at their jobs. This is the type of supervisor I want to be. I want to be sustainable as well as excellent.
As such, I have made an intentional decision to engage in self-care. I eat lunch – often at my desk, but quietly and at rest. I meet with friends on campus for peer coaching and networking. I consistently leave work for home (almost) on time. I rarely bring work home at night and limit my weekend work to no more than several hours on Sunday (if that). I make and keep doctors appointments. I get hair cuts. I sleep. I exercise, but not if it gets in the way of sleep. Sleep comes first.
Self-care, specifically leaving the work on the desk at 5pm, has not been easy. There has been a lot of anxiety around not getting all of my tasks done as soon as they emerge. Given that I am supervising a large program evaluation, creating a communication plan, pitching several new programs, creating and teaching new sessions for existing programs, and orchestrating widespread infrastructure updates…*none* of these things were ever going to get done on a dime anyhow. But not giving in to the impulse to work nonstop has taken discipline, and a constant reminder to myself that there is time, the world will not end, the work can and should wait for me to recharge.
In being more disciplined, I have learned to let go. I was working hard on a presentation last night…granted, I worked until 10 pm, but then I stopped and went to bed rather than work on it through til this morning. It got the work done. It was fine. Furthermore, I have been delegating to student workers. Granted, I have to correct some of their work, but I am teaching them about coding and database organization even as they do the detail work for me so that I can focus on data analysis. I have asked and received more help from my family around the house – they help me do tasks I once did all by myself, because I need time to unwind just as much as anyone else does.
Self-care takes discipline, but I have also seen results. I am more efficient. I feel more grounded, engaged, resilient in my work than I ever have.
Engaging in self-care has not been easy, but it is also beginning to make a difference in my narrative. It’s too early to say if I will ever achieve calm competence, but today, someone from my workplace announced to a large group of people that I had inspired her to try harder in her own quest for work-life balance. Apparently, I “leave the office on time almost every night” and I still get an extraordinary amount of work done. Apparently, that’s something to behold.
I’m still catching my breath It’s been nearly a week after Bryan Alexander’s invigorating tour through a “week of Digital Literacy” in our Open Learning cMOOC. Among many other things, the week helped me appreciate how fun and difficult it can be to stay abreast of a free-wheeling Twitter chat, how delightful it is to meet new people and work on shared intellectual concerns collaboratively, and how much I have to learn — not just about digital literacy, but but about learning itself.
The latter connects powerfully to the crisis of knowledge and knowing that has engulfed most communication channels since the new administration’s war on the media began under the banner of “Fake News.” Like many others, I have spent many hours searching my soul, reading (and reading), and talking with people seeking understanding — not just of how we got to what still feels like a surreal moment, but what can and must be done to move us forward — or maybe it’s backward — to a time when dissembling, manipulating, and simply lying about what happened or what one said might not have been unheard of, but wasn’t projected at a national level as an acceptable, indeed expected mode of engagement.
I hoped to find refuge and even salvation in The American College of Research Libraries’ Framework for Information Literacy for Higher Education, which was our focal text for the week, (see two Hypothes.is annotation streams here and here). As a historian trained on the cusp of the analog / digital divide, I’m pretty comfortable with my competency in the information literacy realm. But I am not a librarian, so looking at how research librarians see information literacy as part of an educational reform movement that capitalizes on the changing landscape of higher education and the new information ecosystem seems essential.
I found all six of the frameworks (and even more importantly, the “knowledge practices” and “dispositions” that articulate their implementation) compelling. And what I most liked was the synergy and integration among them. It seems as though we are (finally) getting past a linear conception of the research process (id topic, compile sources, read sources, write about topic) to something more dynamic — a process of knowledge production that understands information creation as a process, sees scholarship and research as interactive conversations, and appreciates the constructed and contextual nature of authority.
[It is a bit odd that the frameworks don’t engage the networked digital ecosystem and and Open Learning more explicitly. I think we all saw connections there and wondered if they were so extensive that we took them for granted? Fodder for another post, perhaps.]
The rubber still hits the road, however, when the frameworks (for knowing) engage the content (of what we know). Our discussions of digital literacy focused on cultivating habits of mind and method among students. Skills. But underneath the desiderata of digital literacy practices and mindsets another set of questions lurked: How do we know what we know? How do we discern “truth” from fiction, real news from fake news? Why do we persist in believing things that are demonstrably wrong or at a minimum not supported by statistical evidence, scientific consensus or any other hallmark of accuracy? (i.e. owning a gun makes your safer, vaccines cause autism, humans are not major players in climate change.)
In “Fake News: Not Your Main Problem” Maha Bali suggests that focusing on digital literacy per se lets the main culprit off the hook:
The problem isn’t the fake news itself, as much as the historical consciousness that allows so many to willingly believe it with no skepticism.
And what is that historical consciousness? It is one where the emotional and psychological dimensions of knowing play powerful yet elusive roles. Emotion and personal belief. Those are the keys. Thus, Maha suggests, that promoting digital literacy alone will not win the war on Fake News. Literacy – digital or otherwise – is about much more than cognition. We need to address the moral and socio-emotional dimensions of the consciousness our students develop as they make their way through the world — by learning about it.
Maha further proposes, and I think this is crucial, that “expanding and redirecting our inner compass toward social justice and understanding” will be essential, rightly noting that exposure to and appreciation of difference comprise foundational elements of self-awareness and understanding. A combination of experience, guidance, and curiosity can support the development of critically engaged attitudes, but nurturing these things (in ourselves and others) takes time.
Maha’s highlighting of the emotional and psychological aspects of critical thinking really resonated with me, as one of those “hiding in plain sight” kind of moments. We know we aren’t really / only rational beings, yet our work with students tends to emphasize the rational, logical, and the empirical — even as we (think) we are encouraging the development of subjectivity, cross-cultural awareness, and insight. Elizabeth Kolbert’s recent article in the New Yorker, “Why Facts Don’t Change our Mind,” has some interesting things to say about why this is so.
Looking at three books advancing new research in cognitive science — all written before the November 2016 elections, Kolbert revisits the paradox of human irrationality (i.e. our lingering attachment to the assumption that humans are rational creatures in the face of mountains of evidence to the contrary ). In the first book, The Enigma of Reason, Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber situate reason in evolutionary context, proposing that reason developed as a way to handle the challenges of living socially. We might call ourselves Homo Sapiens, but solving abstract problems emerged as a byproduct of our need to address the challenges of living cooperatively in groups.
This perspective on reason as an adaptive trait helps explain the phenomenon of “confirmation bias” — that tendency to accept input that conforms to or supports what we already believe. As Kolbert puts it: “If reason is designed to generate sound judgements, then it’s hard to conceive of a more serious design flaw than confirmation bias.” On the other hand, if reason evolved to help us win arguments and maintain standing in our communities, then confirmation bias (Mercier and Sperber prefer the term “my-side bias) could be seen as an advantage rather than a handicap.
In The Knowledge Illusion. Why We Never Think Alone, Steven Sloman and Philip Fernbach examine another dimension of the interface between cognition and social behavior, namely the collaborative way we produce and share knowledge. Sloman and Fernbach note that the way we learn from and with each other has some under-appreciated implications. We routinely rely on the knowledge of others. Indeed we collaborate and divide cognitive labor so well that we often don’t recognize the boundaries of our own knowledge from those of our associates. And we think we know more than we do because we rely on what others know (or what we assume they know). Shared understanding can, of course, be enormously productive, but it also facilitates something Sloman and Fernbach call ” the illusion of explanatory depth.” This comes into play when we rely on a source or individual for expertise or validation without ascertaining how expert they actually are or learning about the problem ourselves. We generally agree with John so we ask him what he thinks about issue X. We assume he knows what he’s talking about and since we agree with him we think we know what we’re talking about as well. Confirmation bias will lead us to find support for our feelings about a particular principle or issue, but it will not push us to verify that those sources of support are credible or more knowledgeable than we are. Just because lots of people agree with you doesn’t mean you are right.
In the spring of 2014, many Americans had strong opinions about how the US should respond to Russia’s military intervention in Ukraine. It turned out, though, that the more people favored some kind of military intervention, the less likely they were to be able to find Ukraine on a map (the median guess was off by nearly 2,000 miles!). That’s alarming on many levels, of course, but I think what’s significant for our purposes is not so much the ignorance of basic geography (don’t get me wrong, I do think that’s a problem), as the fact that people relied on an inaccurate shared understanding of where Ukraine is and didn’t self-correct when given the chance to do so.
So, while I am used to seeing social learning as a huge plus, this book suggests that the “illusion of explanatory depth” can be powerful in ways that are not at all conducive to critical thinking. This gives me cause to revisit how I approach critical thinking and literacy in my teaching. I will definitely be asking students (and myself) to engage in more framing / metacognitive work around the idea of authority. This fits with the ACRL Framework’s emphasis on the constructed and contested nature of authority and credibility.
I will also be looking for ways to engage the emotional side of cognition rather than ignoring it or trying to overwhelm it with reason, evidence and critical thinking. Pascal’s affirmation of the co-dependency of the intuitive and the analytical mind should be helpful here. As should strategies that nurture what Paul Silvia calls the “knowledge emotions” — surprise, interest, confusion and awe. (Thank you, Gardner Campbell for directing me to this article.) These are emotions that motivate us to engage with new things — to explore, learn and reflect, to update our understanding of how things work and why they are the way they are. These emotions also support the development of relationships via collaborative problem solving. So, perhaps the challenge is to identify ways to focus specifically on the positives of social learning? I also come back to the role of subjectivity in all of these literacy initiatives. To understand the self as a unique, socially-situated, contested and constructed entity — one that is both coherent and under-construction requires the engagement of critical faculties and an receptivity to dialogue, difference and change. I’m not sure exactly how to proceed but will thinking about this a lot in the coming weeks. Thoughts?
The gist of this week’s readings and viewings to me is that there is a movement to take formal learning and open it up. By open it up, I mean a few different things:
Connect formal learning in the classroom to activities and community outside of the classroom
Create opportunities in the classroom for students to explore what interests them
Connect students with other students and other people in general who share interests
Deconstruct and recreate what education looks like now that we have tools like the internet, which removes limitations that existed before
There are a lot of good-feels behind these things, so I felt pretty positive about it all. It also feels impossible or maybe too rosy. In the big picture, I wonder if this isn’t a reaction against all of the structure that has crept into education. I hope we don’t just react against structure without taking into account ways in which it might still be a useful component. My dad likes to say “don’t take down the fence until you know why it was put there in the first place.” He has a lot of sayings that still float around in my head. So, hopefully, folks who are spearheading this are not completely rejecting structured learning as inherently bad for learning.
Something that comes to mind about all of this in terms of libraries, is actually related to public libraries. Public libraries have more of the community space role and our local Central Rappahannock Regional Library does this well. The public library becomes the space where like-minded people can gather to pursue an interest. One of the problems with pursuing our interests with a group is where to do it. Not all activities pursued together can be pursued entirely online. Public libraries often provide space, and sometimes the resources. I know CRRL has a group that plays European games regularly. They also have a knitting group, book club, card playing group, etc. They help facilitate bringing people together in the community who wouldn’t necessarily know each other otherwise, and that often includes young people.
However, I wonder about the motivation to make such group connections happen. I suppose the thought would be that if you are interested enough you’d take the risk and put yourself out there in the community. But I wonder how many are really willing ultimately to do that. It is risky. I think of how we generally separate ourselves even from our physical neighbors and don’t necessarily even want to get to know them. Let me also add that when I moved into my house last year I intentionally interacted with my neighbors on multiple occasions because I want to reverse that trend at least for me personally. This was an intentional decision, though, as my inclination would be to keep to myself.
Perhaps that’s where the formal education in some form comes into play. The instructor can become the facilitator for such connections and the boost of confidence needed. The student wouldn’t alone in taking the risk as others in the class take the same risk.
This all still feels a bit vague and up in the theory clouds, but I can see the potential positive impact of bringing it down to earth.
*This photo and previous blog photos are from pixabay.com
Although Vikki Katz’s blog post on digital equity discussed Internet access for K-12 students, her work led me to ask questions about Internet access in higher education settings. Do most instructors know how their students access the Internet to complete assignments? Do they provide surveys to get a sense of students’ access to the Internet when web-based assignments are required? These questions are particularly important for considering OER and leveraging the open web. Does the commuter student who also works off campus have reliable Internet access when she or he cannot get to the campus computer lab? If that same student has a cell phone only, one of the “mobile-only” households that Katz mentions, does that student have a data package to support the amount of web access the she or he needs for classes?
For courses that use OER, it may be nice to have an Internet access plan alongside the OER plans (maybe someone has this already!) so that those with widespread access to the Internet as well as those with limited Internet access can consider myriad ways to connect to the OER course material.
Bryan at the UMW Faculty Academy, 2005. Note the aura, even then.
I should have done this Saturday, but Monday will have to do. Thanks, Bryan Alexander, for directing our week of digital literacy at Open Learning ’17. I met Bryan in January, 2004, in San Diego, at a conference of the National Learning Infrastructure Initiative, the predecessor organization to the EDUCAUSE Learning Initiative. I was so inspired by Bryan’s closing talk on mobile learning that I rushed the stage afterward and secured a follow-up conversation at a local burger emporium, where I met yet another Br*an for the first time–a story for another post.
Since that time, I have been very fortunate to know Bryan as a colleague, a mentor, a teacher, and a friend. The moral is clear: be a fanboy–not that I need any encouragement.
According to the Alliance for Excellent Education’s 2014 report, connected learning is “an educational approach that seeks to make learning relevant to all populations in both everyday life and work, taking into consideration the opportunities and realities of the digital age” (p. 3). The group goes on to say that the basic tenets of connected learning are:
This week, we’re going to focus on everything from the “why” of connected learning to the ways to employ connected learning.
Monday, February 26, 2017: “Describing the Why of Connected Learning,” webinar with Mimi Ito, Vera Michalchik, and William Penuel from September 22, 2014.
The unit available via the link below is a part of their Connected Courses initiative that focuses on helping instructors develop connected open courses. http://connectedcourses.net/event/describing-the-why-of-connected-learning/?instance_id=34
Wednesday, March 1, 2017: “A Dive Into Connected Learning,” the Alliance for Excellent Education Webinar on Connected Learning from May 29, 2013. The webinar panel was moderated by Martens Roc and includes panelists Elyse Eidman-Aadahl, Mimi Ito, Katie Salen, and Craig Watkins. Click on the audio link at the bottom of the following page: http://dmlhub.net/presentations/a-dive-into-connected-learning/
Friday, March 3, 2017: Twitter Chat from 12-1 p.m. EST
One of the goals of the Open Learning ’17 cMOOC is to facilitate a connected community. In the Twitter chat on March 3rd, we will discuss our areas of education (instructor, administrator, graduate student, etc.) and the ways we have used (or would like to use) open education resources in those areas. The hope is that the chat will help us to learn more about our cMOOC community members and continue to build connections!
