Planned Obsolescence

There is a  saying, supposedly Buddhist, that “when the student is ready, the teacher will appear”.  This week in #rhizo14 we are looking at the opposite to this  – how should the teacher disappear – how do we empower our learners to begin to think for themselves?  It’s something that I try to do in my tutorials by using the Jigsaw Technique and a neo-Vygotskian approach to learning which means that I begin the year with fairly structured activities for small group work and, as the semester progresses, I gradually provide less and less support.  My proudest moment was when a group told me that they didn’t need me to hang around at the end of a class, they could carry on without me.  And then they did.

A metaphor I often use when I am teaching, especially when I am working with adult learners, is that of a ladder.  I like to think that I started somewhere near the bottom and that, in some way, I have climbed up some way.  Maybe it’s not very rhizomatic, but I find it helps to explain to some folk the thought that “experts” are not more intelligent than “novices”, they have just had longer to learn and become familiar with subject matter.

And, or course, it allows me to quote one of my favourite parts of one of my favourite thinkers:

My propositions are elucidatory in this way: he who understands me finally recognizes them as senseless, when he has climbed out through them, on them, over them. (He must so to speak throw away the ladder, after he has climbed up on it.)
He must surmount these propositions; then he sees the world
rightly.  Wittgenstein. Tractatus Section 6.54

Need I say more?

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Transitory communities

London Underground being used as an Air Raid Shelter Image by US Govt [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

London Underground being used as an Air Raid Shelter Image by US Govt [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Yesterday I blogged about my journey back through the North West of England during the storm that hit the country the Wednesday.  Then last night I took part in the unhangout for week 5 of #rhizo14, and began by saying that I had not had a lot of time to think about this week’s topic Community as Curriculum because of having been away unexpectedly. But I had been thinking about communities and networks, at least I had read Bonnie Stewart’s piece about networks and I’d been thinking about what makes a network and what makes a community, without really coming to any conclusions.

 

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a6/390029_' City_of_Stoke-on-Trent'_at_Birmingham_New_Street.JPG

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a6/390029_’
City_of_Stoke-on-Trent’_at_Birmingham_New_Street.JPG

So Wednesday was awful – stuck on train not knowing how long we’d be there or how we’d get home.  I was tired, having woken up at 4.15 am to catch my train, and I was worried about getting stuck overnight without a change of clothes, or being stranded on a station platform overnight, and other passengers had similar worries. But here’s something. Usually on a train I will sit silently, head in a book, and the other passengers will do likewise.  This time within minutes we were all chattering with each other.  As I realised during the unhangout last night, having a common factor – all being stuck on the same train – made us bond very quickly and form a community.  I don’t know any of their names, and I will probably never see any of them again, but I felt incredibly relaxed and at home with all of them.  We weren’t a network, I don’t think we were a group, but as Dave said last night, if we weren’t  a community he didn’t know what we were.  It reminded me of the community spirit during the Blitz, folk pulling together and cheering each other up: packing up our worries in our old kit bags, so to speak.

LagerfeuerSo what lessons can we learn from this?  Well, in order to form a community there needs to be a common bond: a shared goal, or maybe a shared value.  In our case it was being stuck together on a train, in a classroom it might be thinking the teacher is a big meanie, or all having to pass a test, or work collaboratively on a project.  Communities can be transitory: they can form quickly and disband just as swiftly.  But before the community can be the curriculum, the community needs to be a community.  Dave’s enabled this very well in #rhizo14, imo – as he said, he’s lit the the fire and we have all gathered around it, drifting off to chat in groups in Facebook, Twitter, G+ – whichever suits us best.  How do we enable this in our classrooms?

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Reading, writing and forgetting

“Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better even of their blunders.”  Nietzsche, somewhere

I often like to begin my writing with a quotation from a philosopher, and this one is particularly apt for this week’s #rhizo14 topic

 Is Books Making Us Stupid?

because I do not know where it came from, or if it really is from Nietzsche.  Usually I would assiduously track it down before using it, but this week I am not going to bother.  Google is making me stupid.

I’m tempted, by the way, just to say “no, of course books don’t make us stupid.  We make ourselves stupid, books are inanimate objects”, but I suppose I might say a bit more.

I do love Plato’s Phaedrus, and the fact that I haven’t read it for many years doesn’t stop me from referring to it regularly and telling students what I think that Plato was talking about, amusingly this week’s topic has prodded me into reading some of it: 

Writing, Phaedrus, has this strange quality, and is very like painting; for the creatures of painting stand like living beings, but if one asks them a question, they preserve a solemn silence. And so it is with written words; you might think they spoke as if they had intelligence, but if you question them, wishing to know about their sayings, they always say only one and the same thing.  Plato  Phaedrus 275d

Yeah, that fits with the general theme of this course – it’s not that we should burn all of our books, rather that we should not assume that they have all the answers. They are a starting point, they’re not gospel truth:

My propositions are elucidatory in this way: he who understands me finally recognizes them as senseless, when he has climbed out through them, on them, over them. (He must so to speak throw away the ladder, after he has climbed up on it.)

He must surmount these propositions; then he sees the world rightly. Wittgenstein Tractatus 6.54

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Types of knowledge

If the true is what is grounded, then the ground is not true, nor yet false. WittgensteinOn Certainty Section 205

There’s two rival epistemological theories which we teach to our first years: foundationalism and coherentism.  I wonder if these might be helpful in considering D&G’s rhizomatic and arborescent thinking.

Foundationalism

Image by Mattgirling (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons
Image by Mattgirling (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The basic idea of foundationalism is that there is one fundamental truth, or set of truths, which underpin all other truths and which needs no further justification.  Descartes was a classical foundationalist: he argued that his cogito (I think, therefore I am) was a fundamental, indubitable, self-evident truth upon which all other knowledge could be built.  Descartes’ foundationalism reminds me of an upside down Eiffel tower – there’s an awful lot resting on one tiny truth.  Euclidean geometry would be another example of a foundationalist set of principles.  These are also, I think, examples of arborescent types of thinking: the cogito or Euclid’s axioms are the roots of the system and all other knowledge grows up and out from those (and is justified by being reduced to these first principles).

Coherentism

net
net” flickr photo by julie burghershared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC) license

The basic idea of coherentism is that there is no one fundamental truth or set of truths which justify other truths. Instead of the hierarchy of knowledge of the foundationalists, coherentism suggests that knowledge consists of a web of beliefs, each of which is justified if it is consistent with other beliefs in the web.  No one belief is epistemologically prior to other beliefs.  Quine was a coherentist who rejected Descartes’ (and others’) “first” philosophy and argued that a sufficiently large circular chain of grounds could justify a belief.  This, I think, compares to rhizomatic thinking.

If you think that truth needs to be justified according to a foundationalist model then you are left, as Wittgenstein says above, with first principles (like Euclidean axioms) that cannot themselves be justified.  Or, like Descartes, forlornly stuck with his evil demon only able to repeat over and over “cogito, ergo sum”.

However, if you assume a coherentist model of justification, then a belief is justified if it does not contradict other beliefs in the web.

Image by Rémi Kaupp (Self-photographed) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC BY-SA 2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5-2.0-1.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Image by Rémi Kaupp (Self-photographed) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Neurath’s metaphor was popularized by W. V. O. Quine (Word and Object 1960, pp. 3-4); “Neurath has likened science to a boat which, if we are to rebuild it, we must rebuild plank by plank while staying afloat in it. The philosopher and the scientist are in the same boat. Our boat stays afloat because at each alteration we keep the bulk of it intact as a going concern.”

Of course, being a coherent set of propositions is not a guarantee of truth – the writers of Doctor Who try to ensure that they have a consistent set of facts but, sadly, the Doctor is not real.

Posted in #rhizo14, D&G, Philosophy, Rhizomes, Wittgenstein | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

I have the questions for all of your answers

Years ago (gosh, at least ten years, how shocking to realise), I ended up moderating a public Philosophy forum.  It’s long gone now but I am still friends with many of my fellow moderators including the wonderful Andrew Jeffrey, who really has not done much with his Academia.edu profile!  Everybody who used the forum had a user name (typically not our ‘real’ names), and we were able to add a tagline which would be appended to all of our posts.  My handle was Diotima and my tagline was “We are not thinking frogs”,1 which is from Nietzsche’s Die Fröhliche Wissenschaft (not meaning to be pretentious, but the best English translation of  this as The Gay Science just doesn’t do it for me); Andy’s handle was Didymus and his tagline was “I have the questions for all of your answers”, which I believe is an original thought, not a quotation.

Anyway, when Dave Cormier asked me in the unhangout last Thursday how we could teach uncertainty I was reminded of Andy’s tagline and I cheatingly stole it (well, I acknowledged that it had come from a friend, so thanks, Andy!).  For me that is an interesting type of uncertainty – I don’t think that I’m a post-anything type of philosopher but I never know what I’ll be inspired to think about next, or end up doing as a job, and it’s that sort of uncertainty that can be unsettling but is also exciting.  I also think, given the uncertainty of life in general, that this is an important life skill to teach our students.  There’s a lot of emphasis put on employability and graduate attributes at the University of Glasgow, and I don’t think we’re unusual in this.  However, one comment that has stayed with me over the years is one made by Katie Grant.  As she pointed out the real skills that she had learnt were not the ones that made her employable, but the ones that helped her to cope during her periods of unemployment.  So true.

1. I love frogs. I  grew up in the Peak District in a village called Froggatt, and it began there.

Posted in #rhizo14, Academia, D&G, Learning, Philosophy, Plato, Rhizomes, Teaching, University | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

Rhizomatic mappings

Cath Ellis wrote a blog post about how the London Underground is rhizomatic.  I love this and she’s right – it has multiple entry ways and no correct route.  Indeed, if I am not in  a hurry then I plan my routes via the stations I wish to visit (Mornington Crescent!).  After I read her post I was reminded of Simon Patterson’s Great Bear, and I realised that something similar could be made as a way of visually representing the rhizomatic history of philosophy.

Great Bear

Any folk want to give it a try?

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Rhizomatic music

rhizome_waveI’ve been thinking a LOT about different ways of representing the rhizome recently.  D&G talk a lot about nomads living in smooth space and making felt (not knitting!) and I wondered what they’d be listening to during all of that.  A quick search of Soundcloud (thanks Frances!) found 381 tracks, 47 people, 33 playlists, and 2 groups, so that’s my listening sorted out for a while then.

Googling “rhizomatic music” produced this short piece which is along the lines I was thinking – that improv and jazz are pretty rhizomatic, the Beatles are not.  I listen to a lot of prog rock, and that’s a sort of halfway house between the two: there’s so many versions of Yes songs, for example.  Hawkwind as well: another favourite of mine.

So far, from the earlier search, this is my favourite.  [Edit] @sensor tweeted this one

I was thinking about listening to music, but this article suggests a political dimension to it all which is too big for this post.

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Enforcing Independence Part 2

I haven’t engaged much with the topic for week 2 of #rhizo14 which is about whether we can enforce independence because I’ve been too busy doing my own thing (haha!) and thinking about D&G.  I’ve been reading blogs of other participants, though, and I guess that it has been percolating away at the edge of my mind.  I started by thinking that all one would have to do to enforce independence would be to refuse to spoon-feed or to provide support, but of course it’s not as easy as that.  As Maddie writes in this post, you don’t make somebody independent by telling them to stand on their own two feet, you have to create the right conditions for this to be able to happen:

you cannot just make people empowered, you cannot hand them down their powers or tell them to be responsible.

scaffoldI know that some people are not a fan of the metaphor of scaffolding.  I am, because it gives me a bit of shorthand (jargon) to describe what I try to do with my Jigsaw Classroom, where I begin the semester with carefully structured collaborative tasks and gradually withdraw as I see the students developing their critical abilities.  If the metaphor works for you, I reckon you grab it. If not, ignore it and move on, as Terry Elliot is doing here with metaphors that do speak to you.

But, or course, I am thinking about students in a formal learning environment, and this is not the whole story.  In addition, Helen Crump suggests in a lovely blog post that we need to move beyond traditional types of assessment if we are really going to allow independent learning.  However, if we were serious about that, maybe we could stop the obsession with using electronic plagiarism checkers such as Turnitin, because, as Catherine Nardi says in her blog, when you start to allow folk the independence to design their learning for themselves, then this happens:

I have wrapped my head around some great ideas, because you just can’t Google the answer.  And that for me is learning.  It is even better when it is shared.

There’s lots of metaphors that I have been thinking about in the context of rhizomatic thinking, but the two that are speaking to me the most are Anna Sfard’s metaphors of participation and acquisition types of learning.  Independent learners participate in learning, they don’t just acquire knowledge.  And, of course, as Helen and others have pointed out, that requires a community of learning.

Finally, as Maddie also points out (and Catherine makes the similar point in a different way), there often needs to be some disruption for learning to begin:

You can only create such circumstances or situations (not exactly scaffolding) but something that makes them uncomfortable perhaps? so as to make them take notice of their actions and behaviour which will in turn start a process of self-introspection and self re-mediation.

I’m reminded of Immanuel Kant’s remark:

I freely admit: it was David Hume’s remark that first, many years ago, interrupted my dogmatic slumber and gave a completely different direction to my enquiries in the field of speculative philosophy.

Yup.  Down with dogma and up with all thinking for ourselves:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQqq3e03EBQ]

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Meaning versus inspiring

brainI’ve been thinking again about Cath Ellis’s blog post encouraging #rhizo14 participants to read D&G in the original and wondering if it really matters what an original meant when they wrote something, or whether it’s what it inspires in others that is important.  Serendipidously I found I’d bookmarked this Beginner’s Guide to Deleuze which says that he:

… is concerned, not with what a given text “really” means, but rather with what can be done with it, how it can be used, what other problems and other texts it can be brought into conjunction with.

Dave made a similar remark in the Facebook group about not caring less when purists accused him of misinterpreting D&G.  I used to have similar conversations with Ray Monk when I was an undergrad.  I’d mention a bit of Wittgenstein and say that it made me think of X, and Ray would say “ah, yes, but of course he meant Y”.  Ray was a kind, erudite man, and he taught me an awful lot about Wittgenstein, and I don’t wish to malign him or suggest that he was a pedant, because that would not be true.

So where am I going with this?  Well, it’s tricky.  I do think that it is important not to misrepresent what authors are saying, and it infuriates me when folk paraphrase poorly because they have not understood what they have read or not bothered to read the primary sources.  I always try to read things for myself in the original context if I am going to use them in my writing and, as an academic I think that I should do this whenever I can.

But I also think that it is absolutely fine to take a piece of writing that inspires you and to use it as a springboard for your own ideas.  As long as we distinguish, as well as we can, between Deleuze’s ideas and Deleuzian ones, I don’t see a problem.  Here’s one of my many favourite Wittgenstein quotes, by the way:

keyboard“Uttering a word is like striking a note on the keyboard of the imagination.”  Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, Section 6

I think that D&G, like Wittgenstein and Nietzsche, write in a style that encourages tangential use of their prose.

Writing has nothing to do with signifying.  It has to do with surveying, mapping, even realms that are yet to come.  D&G A Thousand Plateaus pp 4-5

I also think, as I’ve said before, that it is perfectly fine to talk about D&G’s metaphors without having read their writings.  The rhizome is a metaphor from botany, and you don’t need a PhD in philosophy to understand that!

A more radical position was suggested to me by Steve Draper recently.   Steve’s one of the brightest, well-read people I’ve ever had the good fortune to know, so when he suggested that I read Pierre Bayard How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read I laughed.  I’m reading it, though, and it is very good.  More about that later.

Posted in #rhizo14, D&G, Reading, Wittgenstein, Writing | Tagged , , , , | 15 Comments

Enforcing Independence

ind learnerYears ago when I was first a postgraduate I worked for a widening access and widening participation project called On Track. We’d go into FE colleges in teams of two (usually a PG and a UG) and run sessions for students aimed at “facilitating the transition between FE and HE”, and we often talked about giving a “warts and all” guide to HE. A lot of what we did was study skills, but the students loved it because they got to talk to real students about what it was like to be at university. One of the first acetates (remember them?) in the tutor pack was one entitled “The Independent Learner”. Sadly the project is defunct and my acetates have been binned, and the image is very out of date anyway. It had the text “the independent learner” in the central oval, the middle oval contained all the words to do with studying and assessment and the outside oval contained the skills On Track could teach.

rhizo14 imageDave’s topic this week in #rhizo14 is called Enforcing Independence and that reminded me of On Track and all the talk about the independent learner there.   I’ve recreated a version of the acetate to express how most of us are feeling about this course.  Where do I look for inspiration?  How do I process it?  Luckily we’re not alone, we have the network of others in the course and a variety of places (Facebook, Twitter etc.) to chat to each other.  It strikes me how different this is from the independent learners we envisaged back in the days of On Track, though – it’s a whole different world nowadays.

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