Learning in private

I’m not a shy person. Ask anyone who knows me – I can be very fond of blowing my own trumpet. And I enjoy collaborative writing – the stuff we’ve been doing over the last year has been fun, and rewarding, and I’ve learnt a lot. But I don’t always learn by collaboration, and I don’t only learn from collaboration, and often I don’t learn best by collaborating – there are some things I learn best by practising, privately, on my own. So I think this is wrong:

One of the central narratives of rhizomatic learning is the idea that learning is at once a deeply personal, individual process and something that only happens in collaboration with others. We are all different, but we need each other. A practical guide to rhizo15

Here’s why.  I’ve been learning to play the ukelele for the last few years. I’m not very good, but that doesn’t matter because I only play in the privacy of my study. Well, our old cat used to sit and watch me – her favourite song was the Internationale, which I cannot play anything like this:

… but apart from that my uke playing is an entirely solitary, private activity. And I think that practice is making me, well far from perfect, but a bit better than I used to be. I’ve learnt a lot of chords, and some basic strumming and picking techniques, and I can play  a few of my favourite songs. And I have done all of this on my own.  No collaboration. I think a lot of learning is like that.

(Simon makes a related point on his blog)

Posted in #rhizo14, #rhizo15, Learning, MOOC, Rhizomes | Tagged , , , | 17 Comments

Whose rules are they anyway?

Original illustration of the Caucus Race from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by John Tenniel 1865

I’ve been talking a lot in my various social networks, communities, collectives (whatever the heck we are!) about exactly what #rhizo14 was.  Was it a MOOC? A course? A happening? A party?  Who knows.  At the time it all began we talked about falling down the rabbit hole, and a year later there’s a sense that we still don’t know the rules, yet we carry on playing.

That reminds me. Recently I was invited along to a maths games event. I took a couple of friends because we thought it would be fun. It wasn’t, really, but that’s by the by. One of the games on offer was a Mahjong set, but it didn’t have any rules accompanying it. I googled, and discovered there were many different sets of rules – none of which the people playing could be bothered to read. They made up their own set and had a perfectly ok time – although the rules they adopted made it hard to tell when, if ever, either of them had won.

Were they wrong? Do you have to know the rules of a game and abide by them in order to be really playing the game? Arguably not, according to Wittgenstein.  Read Scrabble and see what you think.

John Tenniel`s original (1865) illustration for Lewis Carroll`s “Alice in Wonderland”. Alice sitting between Gryphon and Mock turtle

With #rhizo15 around the corner I feel like the Mock Turtle, by the way, suggesting that it might be fun fun thing to do. Will you? Won’t you?

I’ve been playing around with musical metaphors to describe my experience in #rhizo14 and some other enjoyable experiences. It’s a bit like pogoing to free form jazz.  It can be a lot of fun, but you don’t have to join in.

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Wittgenstein PI

Witt PI I’m so used to abbreviating Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations  to “PI” now that I’d forgotten how funny it used to seem.  Here’s a cartoon that a friend drew for me when we were undergrads together (she gave me permission to publish it wherever I wanted, in perpetuity).

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Perceived objectivity

You’ve probably seen pictures of that dress – is it black and blue, or gold and white, and what does this say about our perceptual experiences?  But enough about that.

There’s another discussion I’ve been having with friends recently, about researcher bias, the need to be transparent about one’s subjective bias when conducting educational research, and not to be arrogant and assume objectivity of one’s own position.

I’ve written elsewhere about perspectivism, the blind men and the elephant, and today a Facebook discussion reminded me of this:

The ideal, as we think of it, is unshakable. You can never get outside it; you must always turn back. There is no outside; outside you cannot breathe.—Where does this idea come from? It is like a pair of glasses on our nose through which we see whatever we look at. It never occurs to us to take them off. Wittgenstein, PI, Section 103

Sometimes we might see the world through rose tinted spectacles, and that will mean we see things one way; other times we might forget to remove our sunglasses before going inside, and then things will look darker than they really are.

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Words can hurt

Mary Magdalene by User:Vassil (File:Sépulcre_Arc-en-Barrois_111008_12.jpg) [CC BY 3.0] via Wikimedia Commons

There’s an old playground saying that we used to bandy around a lot as children:

Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never harm me.

I said it a lot to all the bullies who laughed at me for wearing glasses, and reading lots of books, and hating Barbies, and sport, and bullies, but I never believed it.  Unkind words can hurt me far more deeply, and more permanently, than mere physical things.  So here’s my version:

Sticks and stones only break my bones, but words can really wound me.

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What’s the point of ethics?

Hippocrates, by Rubens.  Image in the public domain

Hippocrates, by Rubens. Image in the public domain

It’s a frequent misconception that the Hippocratic Oath contains the phrase “do no harm”, and that means that doctors can’t do anything that might hurt their patients. But it doesn’t,  and sometimes they have to.  Primarily the thrust of the Hippocratic Oath, of medical ethics, is not about not hurting patients, but about caring for them.  I searched for a modern version of the Hipppocratic Oath, and  found this from the BMJ: Swearing to care: the resurgence in medical oaths.  Exactly: care, not lack of harm is the relevant focus of the modern declaration.

The WMA Declaration of Geneva (the modern equivalent of the Hippocratic Oath), quoted in the above article, states that:

I will practice my profession with conscience and dignity;

The health of those in my care will be my first consideration;

Yes.  Sometimes doctors have to do things that hurt their patients in order to care for them, things that under other circumstances would be considered to be assault.  Take my sister, for example.  Last Friday she had her jaw broken by medics.  Under certain circumstances this would be deemed to be assault, but in this case it was a necessary medical intervention in order to realign her jaw – pain now in order for there to be less pain later.

There’s two things here: first, there’s the question of what makes some actions assault, and others treatment (and some acts rape, and others sex; and some acts murder, and others mercy killing, and so forth); second, there’s the question of how to justify when harm is necessary in the present in order for some future good.

The answer to the first question will have to do with consent – what the wonderful Dudley Knowles used to call the “magic ingredient” in his lectures on social contract.

Scales from Pixabay

Scales from Pixabay

The second will be a matter of balance and judgment, and this is where it makes a difference how you view ethics. I think that sometimes codes of ethics are used by institutions and professional bodies as a way of abdicating responsibility (by being explicit about how they will not harm stakeholders they implicitly limit the scope of their ethical duties). I also think that at other times ethics are used by some to claim a supposed moral high ground from whence they can throw stones at those they deem to be failing some ethical code (usually one they pull out of their hat as if by magic).  However, sometimes we use ethics in order to determine what ought to be the case, and then it matters which normative theory is in play.

I taught nurses about ethics years ago, and tried to give some relevance to the bare bones of the Kantian and Consequentialist ethics I was required to teach them about, and I still remember a conversation with a consultant who told me that he saw medics’ decision making as a constant conversation between kantian and utilitarian ethical positions, and he thought that was good, because it stopped them from thinking that they always knew the right thing to do.  I think that’s a good attitude, for two reasons : first I think (as I tell my current philosophy students when I teach them normative and practical ethics) that the limitations and problems with consequentialism make me reach for duty ethics and vice versa; and second I acknowledge the fact that I can be wrong, and stopping to think things through can stop me from making the wrong judgment.

Aristotle  Copy of bust by Lysippus (Jastrow (2006)) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Aristotle Copy of bust by Lysippus (Jastrow (2006)) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

But there’s another theory of ethics that we can use if we remember to – Aristotelian, or Virtue Ethics. For Aristotle a virtue is the mean between two extremes, and it takes education and practice to become an ethical person.  This is an ethics of care – it is not an abstract judging of the right, or rational thing to do, but it is an embodied practical judgement about the good thing to do.

So, when you find somebody doing, or saying, something that you think is mean spirited, or misguided, or just plain wrong, the caring, ethical way is not to shout out to the world that you are better than they, but to quietly, gently,  do as you would have them do, and hope that they notice.  However, as Freire says:

It is one thing to write down concepts in books, but it is another to embody them in praxis. ~ Paulo Freire

There’s an analogy to education here, but that’s a topic for another post.

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A herd of freely associating, autonomous cats.

Cats, cats, cats by Scott Granneman from St. Louis, MO, USA (Flickr) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

At the moment some of us are attempting to finish an article about the collaborative autoethnography we’ve been working on since the second week of #rhizo14 (the first rMOOC?). One thing we’re attempting to characterise is the way that we zigzagged between different platforms (such as Twitter, Facebook, blogs and all the more creative platforms that the more talented also used), moving in a messy, rhizomatic way, having different conversations with different parts of the swarm as we went along – and sometimes drawing others not part of #rhizo14 into our conversations as they saw our tweets, blog posts and everything we produced.  As I was wondering if any of us had blogged about it previously, and was also searching our Facebook group for something else, I came across this description from Scott of our collective:

A herd of freely associating, autonomous cats.

We don’t usually quote publicly what we say on Facebook, but that is a lovely way of describing us.

Cats, cats, cats by Scott Granneman from St. Louis, MO, USA (Flickr) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Posted in #rhizo14, D&G, MOOC, Rhizomes, Writing | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Scribbling all over the place.

Puffin colouring book by Jonny Morris and scribbles by me :http://jonnymorris.deviantart.com/art/Puffin-Colouring-Book-65351061

Puffin colouring book by Jonny Morris and scribbles by me :http://jonnymorris.deviantart.com/art/Puffin-Colouring-Book-65351061

I’ve never been one to toe the line: my automatic reaction to being told I must do something is to say no, and I spend way longer looking for ways to thwart bureaucracy than obeying its diktats.  And I loathe those trite children’s colouring books – ugh.  So when I woke up this morning to find two wonderful pieces of writing: Coloring Outside the Lines by Maha and then COLOURING OUTSIDE THE LINES – REFLECTIONS INSPIRED BY MAHA BALI’S POST by Tania I was thrilled.

 

They both talk, in their different ways, about the problems of how we assess student learning – Maha (writing about her three year old) notes that:

In a school entry assessment they ask kids to color something in and i am pretty sure they are checking for fine motor skills of coloring inside the lines

While Tania says that:

My youngest failed a  cognitive test when he was three because he didn’t complete a drawing like he was supposed to.

Wow – three years old and already failures.  Something’s going wrong here.  Very wrong.

These pieces made me think about the problem of designing authentic assessment.  Instead of looking at all of the creative, interesting things that learners can do, all too often the focus is placed upon what it is easy to assess.  And, by so doing, we remove the fun from learning and (all too often) turn it into training.

 

Posted in #MoocMooc, Learning | 1 Comment

Institutionalisation of values

Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains.  Rousseau, Social Contract, Book 1

I’m teaching my first years Rousseau and I’m (meant to be) reading Ivan Illich’s Deschooling Society – everywhere I look there are critiques of the state and its institutions.  I have not read Illich for years, but the point I took from him was that the state “schools” its citizens to:

accept service in place of value.  Illich p4

We are “schooled” to believe that the state provides for all our needs, and that we cannot do without it, but this “institutionalisation of values” turns us into cultural paupers.

 Our wisdom is slavish prejudice, our customs consist in control, constraint, compulsion. Civilised man is born and dies a slave. The infant is bound up in swaddling clothes, the corpse is nailed down in his coffin. All his life long man is imprisoned by our institutions.  Rousseau, Emile, p16

Why do we allow the state to continue?  Are D&G right to say that:

“The fundamental problem of political philosophy is still precisely the one that Spinoza saw so clearly (and that Wilhelm Reich rediscovered): Why do men fight for their servitude as stubbornly as though it were their salvation?” D&G Anti-Oedipus p38

Stockholm syndrome?  Or something else?

(Sorry this is a really short piece – no time to smell the flowers this week.)

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Anarchy

As my old supervisor, Dudley Knowles, used to say, the anarchist is not typically found skulking outside the Houses of Parliament with a bomb beneath her long, black coat – the philosophical anarchist is a gentle soul with a belief in the innate goodness of her fellow humans.  Well, I exaggerate, but my anarchism stems from a belief in my right to determine how I should act without a state looming over me and threatening me with sanctions if I do not play its nasty little games.  I reject the neoliberal values of the government at Westminster because they are not my values; I reject the authority of any state to rule over me for reasons that Wolff states far more eloquently than  can:

The defining mark of the state is authority, the right to rule. The primary obligation of man is autonomy, the refusal to be ruled. It would seem, then, that there can be no resolution of the conflict between the autonomy of the individual and the putative authority of the state. Insofar as a man fulfills his obligation to make himself the author of his decisions, he will resist the state’s claim to have authority over him. That is to say, he will deny that he has a duty to obey the laws of the state simply because they are the laws. In that sense, it would seem that anarchism is the only political doctrine consistent with the virtue of autonomy. Robert Paul Wolff, In Defense of Anarchism I, 3

This picture of anarchism is not a world without rules, but a society without a ruler.  Anarchy is not, as some have thought, a place of chaos, it is the freedom to think for ourselves.*  It comes with a belief in the ability of humans to think for themselves, and to act from their conscience as an inner policeman rather than out of fear of punishment. I may be dubious that such a society can ever come to pass, but I hold it as an ideal and dream of a society where I can skip around and smell the pretty flowers.

Now to think about how to use these ideas to make my classroom a better place …

* I started saying this sort of thing earlier, on Ann’s blog

Posted in #MoocMooc, Philosophy, Politics | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments