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.

Making the Best of Online Learning

In his blog post, "An Aggravating and Energizing Hypothetical,"Dan Meyer responds to the claim that an effective online course could eliminate the demand for face-to-face classes. He acknowledges that online courses are useful for lecture videos and machine-scored tests (e.g., the type of courses offered by Thinkwell and many other vendors), but they lack important features that can only be found in a classroom. Specifically, he writes that the Internet does not do well with "student-student and teacher-student relationships, arguments, open problems, performance tasks, projects, modeling, and rich assessments." I have heard these criticisms before, but what of them?

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.

Treating Students as Equal Partners

What does it take to get a group of teenagers interested in history? 

(And is that even the right question to ask?) 

Steven Kreis, author of The History Guide, begins with this observation:

"Let's face it, our first experience with History is that it is a course that we have to take in order to graduate. As a junior and senior high school student we are confronted with American history, state history and perhaps even a general course in western civilization or world history. We didn't have a choice. And the fact that we are forced to take history puts us on the offensive. We begin to build that grandiose brick wall that will prevent us from getting anything important out of history." (Section 1.2, "Why Study History?")

As a student, I never liked teachers who talked down to me, as if my youth and inexperience somehow made me stupid or insignificant. It often seemed as if they had no idea what was going on in my head. Assumptions were made about what I "needed" to know and what the teacher would teach, regardless of what I already knew or wanted to learn more about. So little was within my control when I was in school—to do the homework or not, to raise my hand in class or not. Not surprisingly, even the most erudite lectures lost their appeal when I was compelled to attend, forced to endure long-winded orations that seemed irrelevant to my own life. Aside from my desire to receive high marks in the class, what reason did I have to pay attention? 

MIT Quality, EdX Accessibility

For his fall semester, my son enrolled in an Introduction to Computer Science and Programming course through EdX, a "a not-for-profit enterprise built upon the shared educational missions of its founding partners, Harvard University and MIT." If you have never heard of EdX, take a few minutes to read About EdX before you go on. At the very least, check out the selection of free courses they offer. While all of the courses are described as undergraduate level, a highly motivated high school student could learn from them as well.

As with all of the EdX courses, Introduction to Computer Science and Programming was entirely free, no strings attached. Students have the option of purchasing a textbook (for only $24.99—a great price compared to the cost of most college textbooks), but even so the course does not rely on it, so it is truly optional. In fact, instead of purchasing the optional textbook, my son decided he would take his chances with a book we already owned (Python in a Nutshell: A Desktop Quick Reference by Alex Martelli), and it was more than adequate. 

Now let me digress for a moment to point out that this, right now, is a special moment in time, and I predict it will not last. We have an opportunity to benefit from all of the prestigious universities who want to research how students learn and how technology can transform learning. To test their ideas, they need to experiment. So, here they are, offering free courses as a sort of preliminary field test. We get to explore these courses, for free, as they are being developed. Naturally, the courses won't be perfect, but I've noticed that they are getting better all the time. Eventually, they'll get really good, and at that point I expect the Great Course Giveaway will most likely end and be replaced by a pay-as-you-go type of system. But for now? Enjoy the freebies.

Significant Learning Experiences

The other day, my daughter asked me an interesting question. She said, "Do you remember the things that you got wrong the first time, and then corrected, better than you remember the things that you didn't make a mistake on?" I thought about it and realized my answer was, yes, I do remember things better when I've struggled to learn them. My daughter said this was true for her as well. This reminded me of the slightly annoying optimists who tell us that we should think of our mistakes as "learning opportunities." The reasoning behind the platitude is simple: if you don't make any mistakes, you won't learn anything new. 

If this is true, if a process of trial-and-error is beneficial, then what does this say about the role of teachers and students?  For example, if we as students are given simple, step-by-step procedures for using a preselected set of tools to create our archives, blogs, and portfolios, does that diminish what we learn or remember? Is it possible that a "spoon-fed" approach might inhibit, rather than promote, our learning? I'm not suggesting that I wouldn't prefer to be shown how to do things, to spend less time wrestling with tools and more time developing my portfolio content and presentation, but the question still interests me. What do I gain from flailing around in the technological waters, learning from my mistakes? Or, from another perspective, am I doing my son (or other students) a disservice if I "rescue" them from their frustation too soon, showing them how to do things they might have figured out on their own if given more time?