We stared at each other over steaming mugs of tea, fresh brewed, tangy tangerine aroma filling the space between us. Vicky and I were sitting in a friend’s kitchen, ruminating about our respective interests and lives after Sunday brunch. I had turned the conversation toward my pet subject, connectivism, and attempted to explain how technology was revolutionizing the world of education.
“But aren’t kids sitting in front of screens too much already?” queried the advertising manager.
“Don’t we have an obesity epidemic in this country? I really don’t see how more screens are going to help kids, they should spend more time outside.”
I stammered. I gasped. I was completely taken aback. My reaction’s testament to my naivety in the subject was telling, and grim. Working at a school of public health, I may have an unusually up-to-date cognizance of the current theories surrounding the obesity epidemic, and “technology” is not even in the running as one of the culprits. It’s debatable whether sedentary lifestyle is as an important a factor as eating habits, socio-economic status, or familial predisposition. As Vicky’s words worked their way through my brain’s layers of language processing, worlds collided in my head. How could I explain, in layman’s terms, that ed-tech isn’t about video games?
Well, doubtless my stammering came across as evidence of ivory tower inhabitance. Out of touch. All theory. I think the chasm of understanding that I suddenly found between myself and my conversant was based on a miscommunication of what I meant by “technology.”
To many, even most people, the word represents smart phones, Facebook, the annoying chip in your sedan that prevent your “check engine” light from turning off without a trip to the dealer, first-person shooter games, Google, and (one can hope) Wikipedia. To me, “technology” is a concept as deep as it is broad. Our ability to use tools and communicate across time and distance is the trait that makes us uniquely human, and it has been tied to our ability to learn for as long as it has existed. From the orangutan that teaches her sister how to scoop termites from an earthen mound, to the 4th-grader who shows her parents how to turn on the camera on their iPad to Skype with Grandma, technology has empowered teachers and learners to improve their world.
Obviously this definition is to vague and idealistic for a conversation over Sunday brunch. There must be a way to make a bridge, a connection from my version of technology to Vicky’s.
A bridge that could use technology as a demonstration tool.
A bridge like Twitter.
I have an Android phone and often spend my lunch break scrolling through my Twitter feed while munching, catching up on the trending topics in #etmooc and #edtech and #iiiD. I wonder if I could have pulled out my phone and shown Vicky the latest feed of #etmooc tweets, if she would have been more convinced and less dismissive.
Twitter is a great example of technology mis-understood. It can be as much of an idle distraction as a vehicle active learning and discovery, documented in real time. In a twitter feed, the potential for coming face-to-face with the “adjacent possible” aligns with the ability to construct meaning from pieces of internet flotsam, and present it to one’s peers. This might be an unfamiliar perspective of learning, I know it was novel to me only 6 months ago. However, Twitter helped me understand connectivism in a practical way, since it provides a tool to put the theory into practice, in a certain way.
Perhaps, after a brief demonstration, she would have left the conversation with a better understanding of what I meant when I said “technology in the classroom.” Perhaps, utilizing a strategy of demonstration, my next brunch encounter will be an opportunity for a direct and compelling introduction to educational technology.