By Noah Gray.

This is a great and very concise tutorial on how to write a scientific abstract (applies equally to education, social science, computing, etc). I wish over half the very many papers I get to review followed these simple guidelines. Among the best explanations I have seen.

Address of the bookmark: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/noah-gray/abstract-science_b_1923214.html

I love this. McLuhan at both his most lucidly brilliant and most loquasciously bonkers. Packed with quotable wonderfulness and perspective-shifting visionary genius, it is worth consuming again and again, even if it means choking from time to time on some of his wilder ideas and prophecies.

Address of the bookmark: http://www.nextnature.net/2009/12/the-playboy-interview-marshall-mcluhan/

I’ve been preparing slides for a virtual talk I’m giving next Wednesday on how learning technologies work (all are welcome). I’ve done virtual presentations using webmeeting software countless times before. Until now I had never thought to change the aspect ratio of the slideshow from that of the default, which is of course designed for lecture theatres and standard projector screen ratios.

How weird is that? 

I can’t count the number of times I’ve tried to squeeze a chat box, a video, some online presence indicators and sometimes more into the tiny space left on the webmeeting screen once the usual 4-by-3 slides are showing. Makes no sense at all because the constraints of the virtual space are entirely different from those of a lecture hall. It’s a classic example of skeuomorphism, in which a design element replicates something that was essential to the original technology but no longer has any functional value. In this case it actually introduces a harmful and entirely unnecessary constraint, making it much harder to sustain and follow the interesting dialogue that typically occurs in such sessions.

The particular irony here is that the talk I’m preparing is largely about how to use technologies and how they can, if we let them, use us. I feel used.

This is a compelling critique of Rory McGreal and George Siemens’s Openness in Education MOOC that makes a point I’ve seldom heard as clearly expressed: is a course really open (by which the author seems to mean free in both beer and speech senses of the word) if you have to sign up for it to receive any content? Very interesting point.

I think the problem with this point of view is the assumption that a course is content, ignoring the people and the process that are what really make it happen, at least for this kind of course. If I’m right then it matters who you are and that others know who you are: freedom to interact comes with responsibility to be who you say you are and be recognisable to others. Signing up is not intended as a means of taking something from you (as it might be on a commercial site) but simply as a means of making communication possible.

If it were a face-to-face course then you could turn up, interact, and leave, without ever having to say who you are were: your presence would be sufficient to assure people that you were a person, accountable for your deeds and words. Unfortunately, persistent identity in cyberspace is defined by usernames and profiles. They are a crude, coarse and ugly caricature of a human’s identity, but it’s currently as good as it gets in asynchronous systems. For real-time webmeetings and the like, it is seldom such a problem: in this kind of learning context it is often sufficient to enter a name, any name, and be present with others much as you might in meatspace. If you want to be identified, great. If not, great. The moderator can always boot you out if you start doing unpleasant things, just as they might ask or require you to leave in a physical-world meeting. More easily, in fact. But it’s different in an asynchronous setting where discontinuous continuity is needed. If you are going to engage in a sustained dialogue over a period of time then there has to be a means to sustain a cyber-identity otherwise it just doesn’t work, and that has to involve trust on both sides of the persistent connection.

I’ve been sporadically puzzling about this problem for a few years and coming up with ideas like context switching and faceted profiles in an attempt to regain a little of the richness of identity as experienced in real-world encounters but have yet to reach an ideal solution.

I have an idea though.  

The problem of giving your contact information away is only a worry when, as a result, the person or organization (let’s call it a ‘body’) is taking something from you as a result – your privacy and control, in particular. At that point, when you are giving something of value to be used by some body, ‘open’ is no longer free as in beer. 

In my personal communications in networks with people or organizations I don’t fully trust, I usually use an email address that identifies the sender – at Amazon, say, I am amazon@jondron.org. This gives me the power to easily identify misuse of the identity (or facet) I choose to reveal, to present different facets of myself to different people, and to very easily filter out any body that I do not like. It also reduces the risk of some kinds of hacking attacks though, as a victim of domain theft, I can attest to the problems that occur when your domain gets lost. It would be cool if these faceted identities were linked to network profiles that could be adapted to different bodies. Better still, in my dealings with them (especially bodies like Facebook that use literally hundreds and sometimes thousands of tracking cookies and related technologies to spy on me) it would be useful to present their personalised facet to them while not letting them see anything else that I do under a different facet. It’s possible now, but the process is awfully manual and typically involves lots of different browsers open at once. Wouldn’t it be cool to, say, allocate an identity to only one tab in your browser window and disallow access to the rest of your online browsing? The interface would take a bit of work and you would probably have to be quite mindful about the process but, with a bit of care and effort, you would be able to engage on fair and equal terms with any body, revealing only what you want to reveal to whoever you want to reveal it to. 

Address of the bookmark: http://opencontent.org/blog/archives/2509

An eclectic mix of tools for creating social sites, including one or two that are simply free hosting sites (e.g. Mixxt) rather than open source platforms. 

Address of the bookmark: http://dzineblog.com/2010/03/top-10-open-source-platforms-that-allow-you-to-build-your-own-social-network.html

I have been greatly enjoying reading David Byrne’s ‘How Music Works’ for the past week or so. It’s a brilliant book that brings together Byrne’s rich and personal experience with a theoretical perspective that neatly captures the intimate relationship between context and musical form: that music is not some abstract and etherial entity that emerges in isolation from its surroundings but a highly constrained and context-sensitive thing that is co-determined by place, history and technology as much as the creativity and expressiveness of the musician, probably more so. 

Byrne’s examination of the effects of recording on how music is played and perceived is wonderful – I think I’ve highlighted every second paragraph or so when he enters this territory. One of the reasons for this is that I see huge parallels between the ways that recording technologies have opened up new adjacent possibilities as well as imposing new biases and constraints, and the ways that online technologies have changed and are changing how we learn. The ways that technologies such as compression or the constraints of the physics of gramophone records made ‘invisible creative decisions’ for musicians mirrors the myriad ways that learning technologies shape and determine how we create learning experiences with them. This is not always for the better – I like a quote from Bix Beiderbecke on the time constraints of records: “For a musician with a lot to say it was like telling Dostoevsky to do the Brothers Karamazov as a short story”. The parallels run deep. Mixtapes, mashups and remixes beautifully echo the overlaid complexities of reusable and open content in a learning context. The ways that conventional music notation fails utterly to capture the sonic palette of modern music, deriving its form from an acoustic era, neatly aligns with the ways that our learning designs draw from patterns of face to face teaching and fail to begin to encompass the many ways that different technologies provide nuances and forms that make all the difference: it’s like playing a Hendrix riff on a ukelele and thinking they are the same thing. Perhaps most interesting of all, the separation of time and place that recorded music allows has led to phenomenal changes in perceptions of music, how it is played, how it is understood and how it is experienced, and has changed not only recorded music but also music that is performed live, how we learn to play, how we pass knowledge from one musician to another. Many things have been lost as well as gained. ‘Recorded music can be ripped free from its context, for better and worse. It becomes its own context,’ he notes. Much is lost in the process – ‘Records may do a lot to preserve music and disseminate it, but they can’t do what direct transmission does….History and culture can’t really be preserved by technology alone’. This is not a bad thing in itself – Byrne discusses the rich interplay between the expansive benefits of being able to hear music from different places and times, and the homogenizing effects of that music feeding back into and, often, destroying or massively mutating diverse musical cultures that were once distinct. But it is different, and it brings its own dynamics of change. In one of many wonderful insights into this process, he describes how early jazz recordings forced drummers to play bells, wood blocks and the sides of their drums instead of snares and kick drums because the thumps of the drums would make recording and playback needles skip, and that upright basses were replaced with tubas for the same reason. Consequently, players who heard the records came to believe that this was how jazz should be played and changed their live performances accordingly. 

The massive changes to music caused by separation of time and space are just beginning to similarly ripple through the more recent separation of time and space in online distance learning. Distance learning is different learning as much as recorded music is different music. When we accompany our lives with soma-like chunks of recordings on an iPod, the music is transformed and divorced from its context and, on the whole, is designed to be listened to in that strange and disconnected way. In fact, it’s different depending on the context we listen – the same music on an iPod, in a cafe, with friends, alone in a room, is different every time. It’s not bad, and it brings a wide range of new possibilities and ways of understanding music, but it is certainly different. When we learn in machine-constructed communities in isolation from our teachers and fellow learners, the learning experience is similarly transformed, ripped from its context and played in different spaces. And it is different for both creators or consumers, just as it makes it different for both musicians and listeners. The majority of modern music simply cannot be played live the way it is heard in a recording – quantization, overdubbing, and the many manipulations that sculpt music played in a studio change not just the sounds we hear but the way they are played and understood by the musicians. Similarly, when we use the technologies of online learning, those of us who are not doing the equivalent of simply standing in front of a microphone and playing (which, in teaching as in early days of recorded music, is a hopeless task doomed to abysmal failure and unnatural-sounding results) are changing how we teach, changing the contexts and ways that  learners learn, and adding textures and mixes that are impossible in a live classroom. That feeds back to systemic changes in face-to-face as well as online learning. The recent trend to the flipped classroom (something many of us have been doing for our whole teaching careers) is a case in point – something that emerged from technology constraints and affordances that now changes the live performance. This is a better change than the converse, for instance that lectures are just content and so can be replayed or transcribed onto a new medium without modification.

Distant education is to live education as recorded music is to live music. Recorded music can never replace the richness of communication, context-sensitivity and transformative engagement of live music. As a musician and a teacher, I love live performance, of being part of a real, human, breathing crowd, of being carried away in an unrepeatable and unique moment. On the other hand, live music can never replace the complexity, flexibility, range, precision and breadth of recorded music, and live teaching can never replace the richness and complexity, breadth and depth of online learning. Both can inspire, engage and transform us.

Roger Scruton’s classic article on the perils of kitsch. It is a defence of art as moral compass fighting off a self-reinforcing feedback loop of comforting shorthand fake-emotion that, like junk food, fails to nourish. I am particularly drawn to the idea that kitsch art is herd art. Scruton’s horse is a little high but there’s a lot of good stuff here that is as relevant as ever in the era of the lolcat and ’10 things you need to know about…’.

Address of the bookmark: http://www.city-journal.org/html/9_1_urbanities_kitsch_and_the.html

A fairly straightforward and pleasantly informal show-me introduction to transforming XML files into something else – in this case, into HTML documents. Aimed at those who already know a little about programming though others should be able to follow the logic with a little effort.

Address of the bookmark:

Delightfully simple overview of actor network theory – (almost) everything you need to know in 3 minutes. 

Address of the bookmark:

This is a great TED talk from Matt Ridley, author of The Rational Optimist (that I’ve started to read and am enjoying immensely), summarizing some of the main ideas in the book.

There are many useful ideas and surprising facts and arguments presented here but the central concept is that the fundamental distinguishing characteristic of humans, that they trade and exchange things, leads to ever-increasing efficiencies of use of time and the (literal) breeding of innovation, in an ever-accelerating virtuous spiral that means the world gets to be a better place to live for nearly everyone nearly all the time, notwithstanding local variations and occasional reversals. His view of the emergent collective is particularly insightful and, though not as subtly argued as Bloom’s masterly ‘Global Brain’, makes a lot of sense and the simile that ideas literally reproduce sexually is memorable and worth examining. This is an original, poetic and compelling retelling of a very old idea that borrows heavily from Adam Smith and Leonard E. Read and that echoes many of the things W. Brian Arthur, Stephen Johnson, Kevin Kelly and others have been writing about technology and innovation recently. 

Address of the bookmark: http://www.ted.com/talks/matt_ridley_when_ideas_have_sex.html