Reflections on the Learning Creative Learning Online Course

The final session of the Learning Creative Learning (LCL) online course, hosted by MIT Media Lab, was presented on Monday, May 13. I'm grateful I had the opportunity to participate in the course. It helped me to reflect on my beliefs about education: the power of interest-based learning, the "guide alongside" model for teachers and mentors, the advantages of open educational resources, and the importance of tinkering and self-discovery. 

I was glad to be reminded that learning is a two-way conversation, not only between teachers and students, but also as a process of peer-to-peer (student-to-student and teacher-to-teacher) collaboration. It's not enough to take in or "consume" information by reading, watching, and experimenting; we also have a responsibility to reflect on the process and share what we learn with others as we go along. Although many of us have a tendency to keep to ourselves (myself included), I know the LCL course would not have been nearly as good if everyone had chosen to "lurk" instead of posting their questions, reflections,  and experiences. I learned as much from the participants as I did from the course itself. For example, from one of my classmates (Shane Freeman), I learned about Problem-Based Learning at Sammamish High School: 



Shane also freely shared his creative presentation on "The Authentic Classroom." 

Like me, some people ended the course by writing their own blog posts on what worked well, what didn't, and what they learned (for example, see these excellent posts by Suzi Wells and Peter Taylor). Others added brief comments to the LCL Google+ Community, which in response to popular request will continue to be available for past and future participants.

Other classmates offered pointers to helpful resources, such as: the Rise Out blog ("High School Without High School," for Boston-area teens); the School of Open (free online courses); and Code.org (for learning how to program). TED Talks were popular for sharing, too: for example, Nima Zahedi directed us to the TED Talk, "Teachers Need Real Feedback," by Bill Gates:



This talk, along with the SurveyMonkey questionnaire I was asked to complete at the end of the LCL course, encouraged me to create a survey for my own course (The Real Wealth of Nations). By asking my students to give me meaningful feedback now, I am learning how to improve the way I design and teach future courses.

Although the LCL course has ended, I feel my studies are far from over. I plan to continue reading and writing about creative, innovative ways to teach and learn.

The Benefits of Open Learning

This past week, MIT Media Lab's course in Learning Creative Learning focused on "Open Learning," a term that means different things to different people. Webopedia defines open learning as "an approach to learning that gives students flexibility and choice over what, when, at what pace, where, and how they learn." Described in this way, open learning sounds like it could be another name for interest-based learning. 

However, "Open Learning" refers to more than an educational paradigm; the concept extends to all the freely available materials and resources that support an interest-based (or open) approach to learning. You probably use some of these resources already—Wikipedia, YouTube, Google Earth, Khan Academy—but there are more being added every day. 

As John Seely Brown and Richard Adler state in their article Minds on Fire (Educause Review, 2008), "vast [Internet] resources include the rapidly growing amount of open courseware, access to powerful instruments and simulation models, and scholarly websites, which already number in the hundreds, as well as thousands of niche communities based around specific areas of interest in virtually every field of endeavor" (p. 32). These "open educational resources," or OERs, have expanded learning opportunities for anyone with an internet connection. People from all over the world—and that includes homeschoolers—can easily access, use, adapt, and share high-quality learning materials. 

When Play and Experimentation Aren't Enough

I love to watch toddlers at play—totally engrossed in what they are doing, blissfully unselfconscious. While nearby adults provide safe boundaries and may be consulted occasionally for help or encouragement, toddlers are at their best when they are self-directed. For long stretches of time, they tinker with the objects in their environment and use a process of trial and error to discover how things work.

What if people of all ages could learn everything they ever needed to know on their own, simply by tinkering? There's no doubt that we can learn a lot without any formal instruction or assistance, but not all of us have the genius of Michael Faraday (one of "Six Uneducated Amateurs Whose Genius Changed the World") or Kelvin Doe, the African teen who taught himself how to build batteries, generators and transmitters:


The rest of us ordinary mortals usually find that tinkering only takes us so far. Eventually, we get stuck and our learning levels off. Maybe we don't care because we're content with the level of learning we've achieved. For example, I learned all I wanted to know about paper quilling from a Klutz book and a few afternoons of tinkering. Then again, maybe we will care a great deal, because our passion is to become the best writer, mathematician, or musician we have it in us to be. When my music-loving daughter wanted to take her self-taught guitar playing skills to the next level, she sought help from a professional musician.

Nurturing Interest-Based Learning

"On some level we know that if we become really involved with an area of knowledge, we learn it—with or without School, and in any case without the paraphernalia of curriculum and tests and segregation by age groups that School takes as axiomatic. We also know that if we do not become involved with the area of knowledge, we'll have trouble learning it with or without School's methods. . . . you can learn without being taught and often learn best when taught least." —Seymour Papert, The Children's Machine: Rethinking School in the Age of the Computer (1993), p. 141.

Seymour Papert coins a new term, "instructionism", to make a distinction between giving someone directions when they ask for them (instructing) and insisting that someone is dependent upon a constant stream of directions at all times (instructionism). There's nothing wrong with teaching per se—tutorials, demonstrations, and explanations all serve a purpose—the mistake is in the cultural mindset that assumes we can learn only when a teacher decides what, when and how we should learn. 

In a school setting, teachers generally do not have the freedom to allow students to pursue their own interests at their own pace. Classes are organized by age, and curriculums are designed with a specific scope and sequence: in fifth grade, everyone must study U.S. history, earth science, and the metric system. Weekly lesson plans dictate what will be taught (and, hopefully, learned). There's a practical reason for this: when you have large numbers of students to educate, it's more efficient.

Although it's possible to follow a similar approach to homeschooling, and some do, it isn't necessary. In fact, it may even be counterproductive. If your goal as a home educator is to empower your children to learn on their own, why not begin by allowing them to follow their interests and see where they lead?

"Well, sure," you may say, "That's fine if my kids happen to be interested in reading, writing, and arithmetic. But what happens when they aren't?"

"Math-Speaking" Adults as Role Models

To say that parents and teachers are role models for children is to state the obvious. We do our best to avoid swearing, show kindness to strangers, and generally be on our best behavior in front of our kids. But how many things are our kids learning from us that we never intended to teach them? Those of us who spend an unusually large number of hours in the company of our children are perhaps most apt to torture ourselves with this question.

Some might argue that if I had chosen a different approach to homeschooling I wouldn't have worried so much about what my children were (or were not) learning from me. A formal curriculum, one which covered every subject my children "needed" to know, would have provided uniform and consistent lessons that would make irrelevant my personal aptitudes (or ineptitudes). After all, if the textbook publishers and vendors at homeschooling conferences are to be believed, the "right" curriculum is all an instructor needs to be successful.

As it was, I decided to skip the curriculum-based approach and experiment with various ways of supporting my kids as they learned. I worked to redefine my role as a teacher. Instead of asking how I should teach a subject such as math or writing, I asked myself:

How does a parent who isn't directly teaching a subject, such as math, cultivate an environment that nurtures the type of thinking and skills that the subject requires?

Deciding Who Is Qualified to Teach Our Children

From time to time in New Hampshire, questions arise about the efficacy of allowing parents with no formal teaching qualifications to instruct their own children. Some demand an increase in the regulation of homeschoolers, and it's no idle threat: As recently as 2008, court battles were being fought in California over the constitutionality of teacher certification requirements for homeschooling parents (see Conard's 2009 article in the Drexel Law Review).

Although there is no evidence that parents with teaching credentials would be better at homeschooling (see "The Myth of Teacher Qualifications"), the assumption that children cannot learn unless they are taught by an expert is still pervasive. In "Chapter 7: Instructionism vs. Constructionism" of The Children's Machine: Rethinking School in the Age of the Computer (1994), Seymour Papert points out that this assumption about the causal relationship between teacher quality and student learning leads to a faulty conclusion:

". . . the route to better learning must be the improvement of instruction—if School is less than perfect, why then, you know what to do: Teach better" (p. 139).

Why Do We Learn?

I am often asked by parents who are new to homeschooling, "How do you get your kids to learn?" Usually the question is directed at a specific type of learning, as in, "How do you get your kids to do their math?" Or, "How can I motivate my daughter to do her writing assignments?" The assumption seems to be that kids would study what their parents think they should if only they could find a more exciting curriculum or special motivational strategy to entice them.

Contrary to what advertisers might like us to believe, there is no magical curriculum so uniquely inspiring, adaptable and fun that kids will clamor for it day after day, especially if the kids have no prior interest in the subject the curriculum is designed to teach. I tried a wide range of materials when I was trying to "inspire" my own kids over the years, and even when I found something that seemed to satisfy one child's preferences and learning style, my other kids would often prefer something entirely different. Certainly, some instructional aids are better designed and therefore more effective than others, and some books are especially interesting to read, but if I'm asked to name a single resource that I would confidently recommend as "the one to use," I can't do it. My answer has to be, "It depends."

Can Formal and Informal Learning Peacefully Coexist?

Recently, I read Joi Ito's blog post on "Formal vs. Informal Learning,"and I have been thinking about a question he asked in his post:

"Is there a way to support and acknowledge the importance of informal learning and allow those of us who work better in interest[-based] and self-motivated learning to do so without the social stigma and lack of support that is currently associated with dropping out of formal education?" 

For many years now, I have been wanting to get away from the either-or conversation about school. Either you go to school and accept the highly structured, teacher-led style of learning—complete with frequent tests and grading—or you don't. The homeschooling community includes many who opted out of schools because their kids, like Joi Ito, were much happier and more motivated when they weren't confined to a classroom under the constant direction of a teacher. Although it wasn't easy to drop out of the mainstream, it was worth the sacrifice to gain greater flexibility and freedom.

Kindergarten-Style Planning

Just how much planning is enough at the beginning of every school year? Is it necessary for educators to have a year's worth of detailed lesson plans in place before classes begin? At what point do students have an opportunity to influence plans and offer feedback? These were the questions going through my mind as I read the article All I Really Need to Know (About Creative Thinking) I Learned (By Studying How Children Learn) in Kindergarten by Mitchel Resnick (2007), the first assigned reading for the Learning Creative Learning course.

In the article, Resnick describes fives stages in a spiraling process:

1. Imagine—Start with an idea.
2. Create—Build something based on that idea.
3. Play—Test and tinker until you feel reasonably satisfied.
4. Share—Show someone else, see what they think.
5. Reflect—Consider what you've done, decide what to do next.

These steps are repeated as reflection leads to new ideas for extending or refining what has already been done. Learning builds on learning in an iterative cycle.

Initially, I thought about how these steps described the way in which my children learned as homeschoolers. I provided them with a rich environment (art supplies, building blocks, dress-up clothes—various materials that didn’t “over-constrain” or “over-determine,” to use Resnick’s words), and I could hardly stop them from imagining, creating, and playing. They invented worlds, wrote plays, and designed experiments. They eagerly shared what they were doing with friends and family. By the time they were school-age, they began teaming up with other homeschoolers to work on projects for science fairs or to explore their options on field trips. Discussing what they were doing and revising as they went along was a natural part of the learning process for them. They didn’t know what it was like to be told not to share their work with others, and they weren't afraid to try and fail (and try again) because there were no grades to worry about. 

Then, I had a different but related idea. How might these stages apply to the way teachers plan their classes? 

The Biggest Class I've Ever Attended

I've recently registered for a course called "Learning Creative Learning," and the confirmation email I received indicated that I was one of 15,000 to sign up. Wait, is that correct? A course with 15,000 people? How exactly will that work? I guess I'm about to find out.

The course is being offered by Peer-2-Peer University (P2PU) and the MIT Media Lab. It isn't the first Massively Open Online Course (MOOC) to be offered, but it may be one of the most ambitious. Participants are connecting from all around the world (literally—see this map of participants, which was created by Adriano Parracciani), and the course will use subgroups to facilitate online discussions. The groups will be formed as participants sign up together or, for individuals who don't sign up with a group, the groups will be randomly generated.

Live seminars, readings, activities, and peer reviews are all part of the experience. It will be interesting to see how well the technology handles such a massive enrollment. I'm also wondering how the format and content will compare to other online courses. The course begins on February 11, so I plan to post more details then.