Spoke & Hub

Warn Your Daughters About Dirtbag Romeo

Posted on January 23, 2015 by Alyson Indrunas

I’ve had many conversations this week about young girls, the digital space, and the complications of love. And I have to tell you, if I had a daughter who was a teenager right now, I would have a very frank discussion with her.

This is easy for me to write about because I don’t have children, and I do not profess to understand what it’s like to have children. Having children has not been a high priority for me in life, and I’ll be the first to admit that I can’t wait to host international exchange students or help kids who have aged out of the foster system. Or even broke college kids renting my basement—when/if I can afford to do so.

You see, I come from a long line of people who have struggled financially, and I just can’t stand the idea of bringing somebody else into the world on this side of the tracks.

I’ve been amazingly lucky. My parents sacrificed for me in ways I’ll never be able to repay them. They put me first, and I love them very much. My crazy branch of this family tree stems from a union of love, friendship, and humor. My parents started dating 45 years ago, and it’s the stuff of fiction that they are still together. In short, my parents are wonderful people who may or may not have questioned whether they gave birth to an alien.

When my mother says, “You’re just like your father,” I’m not sure it’s a compliment. When my dad says, “You sound just like your mother,” I’m not sure that’s a compliment.

Recently, I sent my parents a link to something I’m a part of, and wrote “Spot the impostor.” And my dad texted back, “Proud Daddy.” Unlike a lot of my friends, my dad was always there for me. Really. It sounds Hallmark-like. It embarrasses the hell out of me when I meet strangers who know him; they know my entire life. What I can say about my dad is every time somebody complimented my looks, he would say something like “Yeah, and she’s a teacher.” Or “she just did a 90 mile backpack.” Or whatever recent accomplishment, and I don’t think he was conscious of how very-feminist-like that was of him, but in hindsight, it was very cool. People tend to compliment little girls on their looks, and well, that never really changes. And although my dad never told me as much, he did make me listen to James Brown tell it:

My dad has good taste in music. You see, he taught me the beauty of all things soul, R&B, and MoTown. And the importance of having a sense of humor.

And if he thought helped produce an alien, the men I’ve loved have been even more confusing, I’m sure. My parents always, always, always loved my friends. Even if their intuition told them otherwise, they gave everyone a chance that I brought home. To this day, many people I knew in high school cite my parents and the parties that I threw at their house (while they were out of town) a highlight of those years.

Here’s how amazingly smart my mother is—when I finally “admitted” to how I threw parties while they went camping she told me they knew all along. She said, “That Sunday night I’d come home to the cleanest house ever. I told your dad we should let you think you’re getting away with it because I knew all of your friends were helping to clean the house! It was great. I didn’t have to dust or clean the floor for three years.” Here I was thinking I was SO slick, and she was right. I made everyone who stayed over help me clean so I wouldn’t get caught. She also told me that she’d rather us be drunk and stupid at their house than someplace where we were driving. Smart cookie, that mum of mine.

So here’s three things I would tell your daughter: Never drink from a drink you haven’t seen poured. Never trust anyone’s digital personae if you haven’t meet him or her in person. Birth control is a mutual discussion, but a solo decision; you’re the one who has to live with the consequences.

The discussions I’ve been having lately with my friends who have teenagers, all three of these points are related. And yet, how do you not kill the mysteries of young love? the wonderfulness of first love? the fun of making mistakes? I don’t know, but what I do know is–sick people who I’ll call Dirtbag Romeo– have ways to manipulate young girls–your daughters–in ways that are deeply disturbing.

Reports of young college girls at UW getting their drinks spiked at frat parties worry me. I’ve had my drink spiked, and luckily my husband was there to rescue me and take me home. He was there to call poison control. He hid his rage until I felt better physically and mentally–I was so lucky.

Some sick jerk put something in my drink on election night in 2008. I remember nothing–I mean nothing–of the night. On the night that our country elected our first African American president, I remember little after Barry told his daughters they could get a dog.

We were at The People’s Pub in Ballard–a district of Seattle–a drinking house of liberals and lefties–mind you. Dirtbag Romeo can be anywhere on the political spectrum.

My husband was talking Richard Nixon era politics with some dude, and I wandered to make new friends. When somebody wants to talk Cold War politics, it makes my husband’s heart rate rise. He gets giddy! I vaguely remember some dirtbag looking at me, but then again, I don’t really remember. I was wearing an engagement ring, and wow, I guess that didn’t matter to Dirtbag Romeo. Here’s my mistake, I left my drink on the bar while I went to the restroom. Two hours later, there is nothing in my memory but blackness. I’ve never left my drink again unless I trust people, and neither should you. Are you aware of this nail polish that will detect if a drink has been spiked? This is the world your daughter lives in, folks.

And it really got me thinking about the mistakes that I made, and how I would have been completely vulnerable–on any form of social media–to a skilled writer who was an older man when I was age 14. Case in point: I worked at very large retail chain in high school, and one day this gorgeous “man” walked into the store, and started talking to me. He was 20. Later in life, six years is not that big of an age gap, but at that time, it was massive. And he came into the store to talk just to me. It all started because he was wearing a Depeche Mode shirt and Converse All-Stars. #Dreamy

I’d see him once or twice a week, and I was full on mad for this guy. He thought I was smart! Funny! Cute! He had read Atlas Shrugged and knew how to say Ayn Rand’s name correctly (Note how dumb I was, remember I was 14. Note that three years later, reading Rand outside of a class assignment would have been a total deal breaker.)

Well, it turns out, he was distracting me so that three of his friends could rob the store blind! These three dudes were stealing hundreds of dollars of jeans while Dirtbag Romeo was wooing me with the poetry he had written about me. When the police came—and these were downtown Atlanta, GA cops, not mall cops—I was beyond freaked out.

As I watched Dirtbag Romeo being handcuffed (they had the whole thing on video tape that he was an accomplice), he just shrugged and had this look of “Oh well.” Right then, I knew he wasn’t going to be crafting poetry about me while he was in a holding cell. My little girl heart broke and the thick skin of womanhood started to grow. And the hours I spent defending myself to the police and my managers, turned my crush turn to hatred. The managers defended me; I was crying myself sick. And luckily I was not implicated in the Dirtbag Dude shoplifting ring. No doubt Dirtbag Romeo has helped birth another Dirtbag Romeo. The line continues, I’m sure.

Back then, he couldn’t Google me. And I didn’t dare give him my landline phone number. My dad liked to scare the hell of guys who called me, so I knew the deep voiced 20 year old would get me grounded until I turned 18. My dad was Prom King in 1969, so he had a bit luck with the ladies, I imagine. Having a daughter gave him a new lens on life, I’m sure.

So the only place that Dirtbag Romeo could contact me was at work, and it was the best lesson. I developed a strong scent for Dirtbag Romeo—I didn’t always follow my best judgments, but I developed a question that help me filter out the potential dirtbags to “The Ones with Potential.” And this, I would teach your daughters.

Research Question (RQ): Name three men you looked up to when you were a kid.

Example Answers & Responses

Dude 1: Well, my dad, Ronald Reagan…

Recommended Response (RR): Check please! (Dad, good. The Gipper, very bad).

RQ: Name three men you looked up to when you were a kid.

Dude 2: Well, I didn’t look up to anyone. I’m my own man…

RR: Check please! (Macho BS alert, unless his dad was a dirtbag and left his mother. Give him a chance, but be careful).

I asked this question many times. And here’s was my best response, and this was the one I married. He said, without even thinking for more than 3 three seconds:

Evil Kneivel, John Lennon, and Luke Skywalker.

Me: Not Han Solo? He was way more handsome, and he had Chewbacca.

The One: Are you kidding? Chewy was cool, but Luke had The Force and the light sabor, and he got to hang out with Yoda. That’s all I thought about when I was a kid. That, and my BMX bike.

The rest, folks, is history. But warn your daughters, friends, about Dirtbag Romeo. If it’s too hard to tell her, give Aunt Alyson a call, she’d be happy to talk to her.

Posted in All The Things | Tagged A Memoir, Writing | 1 Comment

Writing in My Head About the #Fedwiki: A Memoir

Posted on January 17, 2015 by Alyson Indrunas

On Friday, I hosted a “task force” meeting on my campus, and it was a spectacular bright spot to an otherwise kind of bleak week. Let’s just say I’m watching one amazing project die because a small vocal few dislike what I represent, one fantastic project limp along because of bureaucracy, and one project struggle because I lack substantial “power” and my “influence” only goes so far. I also wrote a grant that I lost, and I’m going to rewrite it and hope for a better audience someday. Try not to be bitter. Try not to envision the schadenfreude of watching the projects that did win fail.

Cool things this week: people bought me chocolate, smart people gave me good advice, a female journalist is rocking my life, my boss gave me a pair of shoes that didn’t fit her, my friends sent me reminders of our knit retreat that’s six days away.

And I let The Clash throw me concert in my car all week with Kingston Advice, so thanks Joe Strummer. I really miss you. That “Straight To Hell” (see 52:11) is my favorite version of a favorite song. Of all time. Forever.

Okay, real quick: If I could go back to 1982 at my current age for one concert I’d go to Jamaica.

If I could go back in time a second time, I’d go to 1977 when The Sex Pistols played to the kids of striking firefighters for Christmas in Huddersfield. I would’ve helped make that cake, for sure.

One more: I’d see Otis Redding Live at Monterey in 1967. The I’ve Been Loving You Too Long version at 7:02 kills me. Oh, Otis, you are so badass. I love you with all my heart, too. Be sure to watch him dance in the song that follows. No musician has felt more joy in a bitchin’ blue suit. And Otis, every time I wear a mini-skirt; it’s for you.

So back to Negative Ed. Tech. Nelly—I visited my friend Joleen last night who smacked me down off my sad horse by saying the following:

You win a lot, dude, what the hell is your problem? Remember how you were sitting on this very porch crying your eyes out just four years ago? Everything’s so much better now. You’re a totally different woman compared to that sad sack, so shut up about losing, and let’s have another beer. I also want you to read this book I love so I have somebody to talk about it with, so enough with the losing, loser.

Amazingly lucky I am to have such a friend.

Some backstory: Joleen single-handedly talked me into staying in grad school for my M. Ed. It took me five years to complete that second masters degree—I’m now counting the extra year of studying for the GRE, applying for the state tuition waiver, and researching for the PhD programs to which I will now not apply to as planned.

Back then, I had four classes left to go to graduate—including one on ed. tech that looked like a complete waste of my time, so I had decided to quit. Everyone I talked to advised me to stick with what would make me happy—which was quitting—and everyone agreed, walk away. That is, everyone but Joleen. Everyone accentuated the positive, but Joleen told me off with a palpable anger and white-hot disappointment. If we were the hitting yelling type, she may have punched me. Instead she got in my face with her words, used her pointer finger to emphasize flaws in my logic, and admitted that she’d never forgive me if I walked away. Had she not completely bitched me out that night; I would have quit.

I owe it to her to at least see her once a week; I was a terrible friend last year. 2015 is going to be different. I need to remember to thank her for that night.

Our conversation turned last night to how she advises our single friends who are dating. Ten years ago, she’d advise that them to “have fun, but keep your pants on.” Now we’re adding a tip for the digital age: “have fun, keep your pants, and don’t give up your password to anything on the Internet.”

Our two best memoir titles from last night (she’s six years older than me):

Great Idea Twenty Years Ago, Now, Not-So-Much: A Memoir

Edicts For Now: A Memoir

Speaking of the memoir titles, I am delighted to report that Jen Whetham has embraced my memoir title writing joke! I wish I could point to the moment where I started to do this writing in my mind, but I can’t. It may be back when I introduced authors on book tour while working at the bookstore. The memoir writers always spoke “A Memoir” so earnestly breathy. So sad—almost embarrassed-like. So much so, that after hearing the fifth author do it, I had to make fun of it. I just wanted to tell the authors, quit being so damn serious, creative writer; you’re getting on my nerves. Quit pretending; nobody cares.

For years, I was good at limiting the memoir writing to my internal dialogue, but I got stuck on saying it aloud in the backcountry, and now I can’t seem to stop. Things are way funnier in the backcountry, trust me. I’ve also started using the memoir title writing with my little eLearning team to ease the tension of the everyday workaday blues. Here’s one that made us laugh to tears:

I Cringe When I See Your Name in My Inbox: A Memoir

At the end of our task force meeting yesterday, Jen invited us to write our memoir title as a summary of the week as a way to conclude our magical meeting. Here are the highlights. Nerd-tastic here, wrote them down.

It’s Too Much pressure: A Memoir

Thought Week 1 Was Hard, Week 2 Was Worse: A Memoir

What’s My Job Again? A Memoir

Ask Me in Month: A Memoir

This Would All Be Easier If I Loved Myself More: A Memoir

This Will Help Me Get Me Tenure, Right? A Memoir

Loving What Is & Everything Is As It Should Be: A Memoir of My (Im)perfections

As you can tell, this meeting was wonderfully digressive and very productive. Being asked by the state board folks to host a “task force” meeting is up there with riding my bike, and I wish I could end every week that way. We talked about big picture stuff and small changes that we can make to the Assessment, Teaching, and Learning Conference. I was there as a member of the eLC, and again, it’s these bigger projects—connecting the smaller ideas with a big picture–with anything in higher ed. that has real momentum feds my brain. My soul.

As we spiraled away from the agenda, I bought up the fedwiki—three of the five task forcers are or were English teachers. Everyone is an educator in the room—just with different titles. And for the second time this week, I found the limits of my vocabulary. The limits of explaining something that has changed my life. Without sounding ridiculous. Without sounding stalkery and weird. Without sounding completely knackered about my current situtation (as the Brits say).

The Fedwiki Happening has been a bit like Joleen telling me off for walking away from grad school. Only this time it’s not me, the student, it’s me, the wanna-be-writer. Are You There Free-Time, It’s Me, Alyson.

The combination of the way the fedwiki works and the people who are a part of it–has been like the finger in my face pointing out what I’ve been trying to ignore. To accept. To live with. To reconcile.

The Fedwiki reminded me that writing is my first love. And like Otis said, “With you my life has been so wonderful/I can’t stop now.” And I simply have to make time for it. Just for me. I’m not happy without that practice.

I used to get paid to teach people about writing, and I miss some parts of that life. And the Smallest Federated Wiki Happening helped me rediscover that little part of my soul that got lost in The Recession, got damaged from publication rejections, and got worn out from the constant tirade of feelings of inadequacy while learning to do my job.

Mind you, this all happened, as I just signed a book contract to publish a chapter in an anthology. And it’s about educational technology. I’m very curious to see what my work will look like in the package of an anthology of voices.

The fedwiki is so unlike that writerly experience—I was given (or rather I stalked the editor to have ) the same topic as a small group of people, and I have no idea what they did. I’ve had no access to their ideas let alone anything that looks like cooperation. We collaborated on deadlines, and that’s it. I can’t help but wonder what an anthology would look like created in the fedwiki. We’d have to call it something else surely. If you try to talk, say, to a traditional academic, about participating in an attribution-free anthology, or how this could revolutionize the dissertation process from gatekeeper horseshit to something actually useful to scholarly inquiry and knowledge production; they look at you like you’ve lost your fucking mind.

But I need a way to explain this, and I know others are working on the same thing. So here goes:

Alan Levine’s notecard explanation is a superb way to get started on how to understand the fedwiki from the writer-side, and it’s beautifully written. I’ve loved everything Alan Levine touches ever since the CogDog walked into my life. His mind is like a small fire that you can’t walk away from. But. I hated notecards as a student and when I taught research writing, I let students choose not to do notecards. Every time a teacher forced me to do and turn in notecards, and I had plenty as an English major, I read and read, wrote notes everywhere. Mostly–for better or for worse I still do–I wrote/write in my head. I don’t think about what I will write–I put the words together and I see them in my head. Maybe you do this too.

When I wrote research papers, I copied my essaying ideas on to notecards to satisfy the assignment. When it came time to turn in an outline, I entered roman numerals next to the sentences in my essay. Deleted and created BS. Teachers raved over my “organization” and “coherence” from start to finish with the research process. I never told anyone I cheated that way until I became a teacher, and I told my students how I worked around the note-card obsessed teachers. (Sorry, if you are one. If it works for you, that’s fabulous).

When I became a writing teacher, I struggled with how to teach students because my method was—and remains—complete madness. Too many choices are terrible for first-year college students; they’re still recovering from The K-12 Standardization Testing System Industrial Complex. You have to ease students into seeing the gray area because everything they’ve been taught up is so very black or so very white. Never both. The gray doesn’t exist. There’s only one answer on the scan-tron. One dot to fill-in. One right answer. You know, just like life.

So I gave students two or three options for note-taking, but I made them do my entirely made-up process curated from the work of my smarter-than-me colleagues. I taught with the promise they could then choose what works for them in the future. Just do it once, and then you find out what works for you, I’d say.

Everyone gave me notes in all different forms–digital and on paper. Notecards, I noticed, mostly came from grade obsessed students going into STEM—the nursing students gave me three-inch stacks of notecards. A favorite submission was on bar napkin with a note, “I know this looks unprofessional but I got my best idea while drinking with my friends. Here it is.”

“Well, well, me too! Looks like brown booze. Hope it was whiskey. Thrilled you’re talking about my class at a bar,” I wrote. (Underlined “thrilled” three times. Made sure that comment was not in the portfolio that the English department reviewed for accreditation purposes, btw). #MissedOpportunityAlert

So I keep writing in my head about the fedwiki and I’ve been thinking a lot about the fedwiki as a bike share system. I haven’t quite put the pieces together yet on how to use this metaphor (or is it better as analogy? a symbol? motif? theme?) so I’m just going to write and think about it all day today. I’m going to start with this blog and then I’m heading into the fedwiki.

Rain is predicted to fall in inches, so it’s me, the dog, the fire, and word-nerd heaven today. I start with the fedwiki mentality by jotting down the things I list/write in my head constantly.

I’m sure they gave electric shock therapy to people like me once. It looks like this on paper. On the screen. Whatever.

OER and the Fedwiki: The Similarities

1. Started grass-roots, has the potential to grow beyond our wildest dreams

2. Fosters community in ways previously unimagined

3. Changes the definition of connected learning–discovered the fedwiki through the very same people that helped me understand OER and connected learning

4. Encourages healthy behavior—one for the mind, one for the body

5. Downplays ownership and provides a short-cut to get to The Thing (the “thing” may be work, writing, cooperation, teaching, creativity—mostly I’ve journaling on projects there instead of in Google Docs. And I like “the thing” that I’m creating there better. Wish I didn’t have to spend so much time on the bullocks: A Memoir).

6. Allows you to see things you don’t normally see–the designation is the journey (as opposed to being in a car or on the internet). Avoid the bumper sticker platitudes, rewrite that.

7. Pivots the notion of PLNs–this is something very personal connected to a network in ways I haven’t been able to describe (yet). All notions of audience kind of go out the window, because you don’t know who (if anyone) will stumble on it. As a writer, you don’t see stats, likes, notifications, or anything but what you want to see. It’s entirely ego-less while completely narcissistic. Research narcissism more, connect Bike Lust smell to this idea.

8. Cycling, like writing, is incredibly hard solo work that brings together joy, passion, and release—the harder the climb, the better the downhill. The flats are just to pedal or think easy.

9. It’s very hard to explain to people who have never heard of the federated wiki.

10. I realized how wonderful the fedwiki has all been during lunch this week with a very dear friend, Lolly Smith. To say she a friend is so wrong. She’s the sister to my inner-teacher, and I’m endlessly thankful for the time she has spent with me. On me. Mentoring me.

Before I forget, Lolly, if you’re reading this, I regret not bringing up three things during lunch:

1. What do you think about Daryl’s transition on The Walking Dead? He’s the methy-skinny-outlaw-turned-Robinhood, right? Any Shakespeare connections?

2. Have you seen that Jon Snow cut his hair in real life? You really know nothing now, Jon Snow.

3. What are you reading?

But here’s what got me thinking. She said I taught her brevity. How to take something long and make it shorter. Smaller. Brevity? Me? Seriously.

Now, if you have made to this point in this blog post, please note this memoir title.

I Embody & Embrace Contradictions: A Memoir

She was talked about how she used to live for long papers, long books, long projects and I taught her brevity with my presentation about Pinterest. I used to focus on professional development in small bits thanks to a class I took, I suppose I still do that but now it’s about OER. For those of you who do not know Lolly, she’s one of the 2012 Anna Sue McNeil winner. When I use the phrase, “teacher’s teacher” I see her face. When I think of future awards for OL teachers in Washington State, I think “The Lolly Smith OL Teacher Award.”

She either hired or had a hand in hiring everyone I think is cool at EvCC. She connected me to my first

job in higher education/grant/recognition/diversity course/literature course/CC job recommendation/online and hybrid class/teacher award/instructional designer job/my current position

Sometimes the luck one gets in life is because you impress the right people. Do the right dance to the song of the moment. Make something that somebody benefits from selling. With Lolly, it’s all of that and none of that. She’s just plain Good People. She’s left this giant legacy in teaching that I’m not sure she is aware of. She’s too humble to own it. And I understand why she retired when she did, and I share her same concerns about the future of education. In my best moments, I want to make sure I’m somebody’s Lolly.

I told her that I would create a backwards design “assignment” for her to read so she can ask me questions about the fedwiki the next time I see her. We giggled about how very instructional designer that is! As a Shakespearean who taught writing, she started glowing when I described the fedwiki to her. And originally, that’s what I wanted this blog post to be, a lesson for Lolly, but now I’m going to ask her to join us instead. As one of the pioneers of online teaching in Washington state, she has a lot to offer us.

This morning, I woke up thinking I’d read the paper and my stack of books. But I got a ping about the fedwiki, so I peeked at the iPad. And saw this post:

A Fedwiki Happening on Teaching Machines Featuring Audrey Watters

I could write something brainy about this title, but all I can say is, this is like seeing it’s 2AM, and the bartender yells, we’re staying open! Free rounds for everyone! Fuck yes!

So I’ll struggle some more with the OER/fedwiki/bike-share idea today, and I’ll stop with my cultish devotion-speak and conclude with an invitation to carve out those seven hours, dear readers. If you can follow my blogging style, then you can struggle with the fedwiki. Learn it, don’t give up, don’t be intimidated by anyone, be silly, have fun, entertain yourself, and be delighted when you connect with somebody. Be prepared to read other people thinking your thoughts in a way you’ve never seen. It’s digital learning magic.

The fedwiki is up there with my “favorite things in life” like the first bike I bought in pieces which somebody hand-built the wheels and put everything together to create a bike for me. From the wheels, to the parts, to the bar tape, I picked out all of the parts to make the whole.

When I first saw how the parts became the bike, I just stared in awe. I asked, “how does it ride?”

To which the highly-skilled mechanic said, “I didn’t build it for me; it’s you I thought of. Throw a leg over it and check it out yourself. What are you waiting for?” Those two clicks of my shoes going into the pedals changed everything. Click. Click. Pedal. Pedal. Yes. Yes.

Sign yourself up and go for a spin.

Posted in All The Things | Tagged A Memoir, bike share metaphor, Bikes, leadership, PLN, SFWH | 11 Comments

Nobody Grows Up Thinking: “I Want to be an Adjunct!”

Posted on January 13, 2015 by Alyson Indrunas

Yesterday we had the once a quarter All Instruction meeting, and I’ll be honest, I never attended these meetings before I had this job. So I get why people aren’t there, and adjuncts, I forgive you more. As I looked around the room, I saw the usual suspects. The tiny core of coolness that makes a place a pleasant daily experience. Commiserated with a poet who was smart enough to bring a notebook to “take notes–something I’ve learned from my students,” he laughs. Made a sarcastic comment or ten to a new dean. Got to hear the lovely smart ideas of my little team. Tried to be more serious and thoughtful in my responses to sincere questions from the VP. Tried not to run over and hug the teacher who asked the same question I was going to ask the student panel.

This question, coming from me, sounds self-serving, selfish, and well, kind of accusatory. But from a teacher, it was beautiful.

How can we create a community in online classes?

The students were asked to talk about what helps them be successful, and the like. One student mentioned one of our philosophy teachers, whom I adore, as helping to create community online by creating podcasts. He felt like he really got to know the teacher by listening to him speak his ideas as part of the assignments. This teacher does not use our LMS, and I’m not particularly interested in standardizing what “teachers should do”–I support in good faith academic freedom.

I do, however, have opinions about ways we can make sure students know what to do and when, so that’s where I focus my energies. That podcast comment made my day, and helped fortify me as I listened to many, many justifiable compliments about technology. As the only technology support person there, I have to work on not taking those comments personally. My dean noticed my very chicken-like behavior of bolting out of the door at the end of the meeting. Rather than schooling me about administrative bravado, she took me into her office and we had a lovely session of Speaking the eLearning Truth.

Truth be told: I love making her laugh–she’s whip smart and it feels like such an accomplishment to make her laugh. She’s invested a ton of time in me, my ideas, and my flaws. Plus, we always talk about books. #lucky

On the agenda, there was supposed to be a question about textbook affordability. That discussion did not happen–to which I’m grateful–also chicken-like, I’ll admit. My co-chair is on sabbatical and I don’t like representing our work in front of the faculty without him. Without him, our OER project would not be happening. I am fiercely dedicated to this idea that OER has to be “faculty-driven” and he’s faculty; I’m not. But I get why he wasn’t there. He’s wigging out about writing a textbook for developmental math students, so I wish him well in his little writing shed near the Chuckanut Mountains. Parsing through OER math problem sets sounds like the outer-circle of hell to me, so I’m glad people like him exist.

I took notes on my phone about the words the students kept returning to:

Flexibility. Approachability. Positivity. Clarity of expectations. Enthusiasm. Bonding. Being open. Mixing it up for learning styles. Teacher presence. Connections. Time.

When the faculty were asked what they needed to do the work of supporting students (the student panel had left, I wanted them to stay), they used words and phrases like:

Rigor, relevance, respect, support, time, more full-timers, paying adjuncts, equity in committee work– and my favorite–the tyranny of administrative tasks. Time.

And again, I listened to many of the common issues on both sides being about The Adjunct Question. I do not mean to belittle the use of The Woman Question by appropriating it (please note I have a vagina)–every opportunity I have right now is the result of people with vaginas asking questions.

People With Vaginas Asking Questions: A Memoir

There are questions we need to be asking. Here’s what I wanted to show everyone yesterday. The slide below is a mainstay in all of my presentations about adjuncts. It makes people laugh, but I’m trying to send a serious message. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, and it’s a thought I had when I was around the age of the students in the photo.

I had no idea that these words and phrases existed then: Contingent teachers. Part-time full-time teachers. Adjuncts. Contract teachers. Associate faculty. Junior faculty.

In short, people with no hope of getting full-time work in higher education.

As discussions proliferate about growing free two-year college offerings, competency-based education, and manufacturing professional-technical programs; I worry for the adjunct. Teaching labor. The quality of online learning. I worry that everyone is talking around The Adjunct Question.

One student said, “You can just tell teachers doesn’t care because they aren’t around. It’s hard to reach them. They don’t seem to care to connect to you. They don’t take the time to talk with you.”

Yes. Some just plain suck. I had those teachers too for every degree I’ve earned. Community college (on my dime) to R1 school (on the state tuition waiver, thankfully)–I have had classes with teachers who just plain suck.

But there are so many who are so good. They could be so much better. They want to be better.

But most teachers are managing course loads and unrealistic work demands just to make a living. The students don’t know that. And nobody really likes talking about it. Why would they?

Posted in All The Things | Tagged Adjuncts, leadership | Leave a comment

What I Found There: CXNats Sucks & Reflective Blogging

Posted on January 12, 2015 by Alyson Indrunas

CXNats Sucks

“Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas—only I don’t know exactly what they are!” ~Alice from Through The Looking Glass and What Alice Found There

So, I usually keep my twittering in check, but this morning, I lost it. After spending two hours researching on my adjunct question, I needed a break. The plan was to curl up next to the laptop and watch Cyclocross Nationals in Austin, Texas. Yeah, bike racing in America! Woohoo, Katie Compton, you know, the most decorate PERSON–male or female–in bike racing who most Americans have never heard of, but that’s fine. CX is a silly niche sport within cycling. I love it.

When most of the PNW is consumed with Seahawks mania, I’m happy to hike on trails while they are 12th Manning or whatever. And I know a woman competing at this level, and she’s amazing. Every time I think, “man, it’s way too cold/windy/miserable to ride,” I see Courtenay McFadden on her bike (Best quote on her website: I know, I pedal like a girl. Try to keep up). I know her sister-in-law pretty well, so I feel a bit invested in this race. She’s a hometown girl done good. Her husband’s a local firefighter who also races, if you want to get all patriotic. Well, get this, they postponed the race because of the weather. Seriously. Cyclocross was invented to help cyclists stay fit in the off-season when the weather is bad. If you don’t know anything about the sport, then here’s some advice I got at my first bike clinic.

I asked the teacher, how do you know when to get off your bike and run with it?

He just looked at me very serious-like and said, “Alyson, if you can’t ride something. Get off your bike, pick it up, and run as fast as you can. If you’re resting, you’re losing.”

So, okay, Austin, TX, here’s the story, your organizers blew it. And USA Cycling (USAC), you suck too. The rain was unfortunate, but your planners should have known all about this sport and what it does to the terrain. That mud is part of the fun. That grass grows back. That delicate trees should not be near the course. A bit of education could have saved a lot of people money—in particular junior racers and female privateers. By the percentage, more women are privateers, meaning they have little or no team support. Even the teams who sponsor male cyclists give very little funding. And they give women even less.

USAC, you should have known better, but then again, I’ve had little love for you as female recreational cyclist. You don’t care to encourage women or junior racers into the sport, but you’re happy to cash our checks to “join” your organization. Thanks for the free sticker! It seems like you’re more interested in trying to prove something globally that nobody really cares about—the rest of the world thinks very little of US cycling—they hated Lance Armstrong before America did. And now we cancelled our own CX nationals because of mud. MUD?! That’s like not having beer at Oktoberfest! Had you scheduled this race in New England or the PNW, this may not have happened. (That’s where most of the women racers are from, but who hell cares about that?). Even still, I’m never ever doing any races where I need one of your licenses. Boo, hiss. The pro-men will likely be there en force, but some of the ladies and the juniors had to go home. So, in short, you suck.

Here’s something I need to recognize. I’m angry about the CXNats postponement because I wanted something to cheer me up after doing my adjunct question research (I’ll talk about this topic another time). The postponement means I won’t get to watch the race live, because I’ll be at work like most of the female privateer racers, and well, I stayed kind of cranky until my husband cheered me up by making fun of American football, by imagining how an old Belgian is trying to understand American CX, and reminding me that Downton Abbey is on tonight. Okay, readers, I feel better now, thanks for listening.

What I Found There: Reflective Blogging

Then I saw an invitation to the #ETMOOC two year anniversary Twitter chat. Two years! Bob Dylan’s right: Time is a jet plane.

So I decided to look back to see what I was thinking 2 years ago on my very first blog, which was a result of the ETMOOC and my educational technology class. Here’s the question I was asked to answer post-ETMOOC

How have you changed as a digital educator and citizen? How do you see yourself (your identity) now?

This is the exact question I am dealing with right now. I’m applying for two instructional design positions, and I’m (re)creating who I am as educator. I am still, and always will be, a writing teacher. This is my ninth year teaching writing, and reviewing my CV has been a reflective, slow, painful process. For instance, there is a huge gap in my CV from 2005-2008 when I worked constantly. (To clarify: Twenty-two comp courses a year=constantly). I have very little to show in the way of professional development. Those were not especially happy years for me personally, and it was all due to the amount I was working. I was not chosen for a position that I really wanted, and it took me awhile to figure out what’s next. In 2009, I made some radical changes in my personal life, and my professional life has been slowly evolving. Everyday, it gets a little better. As I mentioned before, most of my online persona has been within the learning management systems. When I saw a listing for a job that mentioned “an online presence,” I laughed. I didn’t have one! My mid-pack bike racing results weren’t going to help me!

So. Here I am. I don’t know exactly how to sum up my learning, ETMOOC, you are the first step toward something different. Something I’ve been looking for, and for that, I thank you.

Alec Couros tweeted the link to one of my blog posts, and I went from three readers to over 300 in four hours. What a swell dude. That was when I pretty shy on the Twitter machine–in fact I planned on canceling my account after the MOOC. Silly, ol’ Alyson. What a rube!

The next thing I found is my short reflection of the Annual Teaching and Learning Retreat where I was asked to present. Now two years later, I am on the planning team, and I pitched the idea of fear or I jumped on the idea when one of my colleagues said it. Whatever. We’re talking fear for two days. I think we have a solid program.

Here’s what presenter-Alyson said two years ago (she had no idea how much work goes into planning something like this. Ignorance is bliss, truly).

I hope that the audience got something out of what I said, and here are a few of the Big Ideas I took away from the other speakers:

An astronomy teacher reminded us of how little we know about the universe.

An IT worker made a video so he could be with us and his pregnant wife.

A history teacher made me see her passion for her subject.

A poet reminded me that students, like writers, work in isolation.

A nurse showed us the amazing technology our future nurses are using.

A welder explained how his program had to become viable or it was going away.

An early childhood educator showed us how children have a need and a right to question.

A cosmetology teacher showed how her students chart their success over time.

An art teacher made me work as a graphic designer, and I laughed really hard with my group.

This summary is one of the many reasons I love teaching at a community college.

Wow, and now I know all of those people so much better. It’s my job to represent their interests. They are now friends.

My blog post from Friday mentioned the Rabbit Hole, and I was reminded of my M.Ed portfolio. I decided to take a peek at that as well to see what I was up to a year ago. Silly ol’ Alyson was really, really thinking she’d jump into a doctoral program upon graduating. What a rube!

Check out this title and excerpt from a paper on educational leadership:

Title. What I Found There: Self-Assessment As Educational Leader

Btw, if I was asked to do one more self-assessment in that program I was going to lose my mind.

Excerpt:

In this course, aside from learning that I do not have the chops to be an administrator, I learned a great deal about the organization of institutional structures in higher education. What solidifies my lack of confidence in attaining a leadership position? Good question. In the excerpt below from the second assignment, I did a short case study on a manager of a nonprofit organization.

Question 4. What are the most critical skills needed to be a successful manager in your line of work?

Since we are a nonprofit, the management of our budget is crucial. I think that the most critical skill as a manager is being able to hire the right workers for the right job. It took me several experiences with firing people to learn how to hire better. At first, I was hiring people based on how much I liked them, and if their skill set didn’t quite match, I felt like I could train them. That was a mistake. I was just creating more work for myself. It’s also unfair to the employee who gets hired thinking he or she is suited for the position.

I’ve included this portion of the assignment as a way to document a reminder of why I should not take a management position. I believe, still to this day, that I want no truck with being in administration. In addition to completing a requirement of the assignment, this project gave me insight to how conflicted I am at times about leadership and management, but should I consider these positions in the future, I should remind myself of what is written here. This is a rabbit hole I should avoid.

Well, well, what a rube! It so great to reread all of this about my former self. Silly, silly, Alyson.

I bolded all of the phrases that really scared me then (and now). When I worked on that assignment, I had just reread Alice In Wonderland, and many of the references were fresh in my mind, so I found a few quotes to include in the essay.

I identified mostly with Alice who never quite knows what’s going on around her yet she’s always in the thick of major events.

Funny how very little yet everything has changed on this jet plane of time.

Posted in All The Things | Tagged Bikes, cyclocross, Instructional Design, leadership, PLN, Writing | 4 Comments

Down the Rabbit Hole of The #Fedwiki

Posted on January 9, 2015 by Alyson Indrunas

Last night, I got a text message that read:

If you don’t bring beer over to my house and drink it with me; you’re dead to me.

No name. Unidentified number. I thought to myself, Joleen must have finally gotten a cell phone. Yes, that’s right. I have friend who hasn’t had a cell phone in over a decade. I text back, “I’ll be there at 8. Please do not cast me out of your court, my queen.”

Joleen and I bonded instantly when we met 15 years ago at Village Books in Bellingham. Booksellers spend a lot of time getting to know one another when business is slow, and she was somebody I wanted to have a beer with—there are things you can’t talk about when customers are around. And thankfully she felt the same about me.

Late into the night, I felt the urge to sing to her:

“Joleen, Joleen, Joleen. Jooooleeeheeen. Please don’t take him, just because you can. You can have your choice of men, but I could not love again. He’s the only man for me, Joleen.”

I shared with her that I loved Dolly Parton’s version best because she gets all whispery and it’s so sad. Having always associated the name Joleen with Appalachia, I was surprised to meet a Joleen in the Pacific Northwest. And get this, she grew up on a commune and her mother “discovered” her last name by using a Ouija board. You can’t make this stuff up, people.

After I finished singing the song, she rolled her eyes, and said:

“Do you know how many men have sang that to me over the years? They all thought they were so original. As if I never had that line before!”

I returned with “Alllllllyyyyyyyyyyssoooooooon. You know this world is killing me. Oooohhhh, Allllllysooon. My aim is true.” I shared with her tales of bartending when an entire bar full of men–republican lawyers at that–sang that song to me. I had to suffer through it because it was last call, and they owed me a very large tip. I told her of another instance where a man who sang that song to me within minutes of our first dinner together.

She asked me, “Well, did you take off your party dress that night or what?”

We laughed so hard my cheeks hurt the next day. Instant best friend, that one.

We then turned to analyzing the lyrics of both songs which painted our namesakes as kinda slutty manipulators. Joleen could “have her choice of men” but Dolly’s narrator “could never love again” if she stole her man. Alyson (spelled Alison) “took off her party dress” and she was basically an airhead that Elvis wanted “stop [her] from talking” and save her from “the silly things” she says. Why couldn’t my mother have named me, Prudence?

Oh man, we went down the rabbit hole that night with discussions about sexism. This, my friends, was a woman I had to befriend because yes, “this world is killing me.”

So tonight I will go to her house because she’s reminded me she hasn’t seen me since August. She asked, “Where were you during the holiday break?”

“Well. Home. I was working on this project. It’s hard to explain. I’ll tell you in person.”

The last time I tried to explain the FedWiki Happening, I was walking into the backcountry with my friend who is a librarian. She wanted to hear all about it, so I talked non-stop for four miles. This may sound like an epic feat of listening on her part, but I was about to listen to hear talk about the same two men for two days straight. Being single in the digital age is so confusing. So, yes, she could listen to my FedWiki ramblings for four miles.

Here’s the rough outline of how things happened. As I explained them to her then, of course. I’ll get to a proper reflection, but here’s the outline I’ve been working all week. Sentences will be fragmented. Thoughts will be scattered; you’ve been warned.

I met Mike Caulfield at NW eLearn. I voted for him in all caps in the chat window when Maria Erb mentioned he could be our keynote. I’m on the planning committee. Had to stop myself from shouting Amen several times during his keynote. Decided to live tweet instead. That night, I hung out with him and several others whom I adore. We drank and talked. That conference was a highlight of an otherwise very difficult autumn.
At the end of the night, I got all saleswoman-like and gave Mike my business card on behalf of my faculty member to get in on the federated wiki. She loved it so much during his session presentation, and I enjoyed to talking with him. It was a business gig after all.
Months later, he DMs me on Twitter about the Federated Wiki Happening. I know for sure my faculty is burned out because I bequeathed her very difficult yet pleasantly lucrative Instructional Design project. And she teaches four classes. Has three kids. Shoot! I’m going to jump in on this myself and check it out, I think, all eLearning Director-like. I’m a professional.
I say yes, give him my title. I fly into a panic when I start to see the names on the Google Doc. People have fancy titles. Degrees. Publications. And there’s little ol’ me from a tiny community college. Well, I think, I can always change my name and dye my hair if I totally blow it. I’m sure I can still get a job back at the bookstore.
I begin to fret. I pace like a trapped feral cat. I am a total impostor but nobody has figured that out, it seems. I go buy two growlers and commit to watching several bad movies. Mike sends his Daily Tips tiny letter. I read all of them with great interest. I watch hashtags and tweets.
First log-in. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m at Tami the librarian’s house. We’ve shared many Jubelales. I burned my hand stoking the fire. I try to type something, and it’s totally weird. I can’t figure out what I’ve done. I can’t delete. I can’t find what I’ve done. I have this lovely butterfly graphic that I dig. I clap my laptop shut, and think, I’ll work on this tomorrow at work.
During my lunch break, I bust out a very bloggy blog blog post. It’s a little story that’s haunted my soul every time I see discussions about women in ed tech. About women in leadership. Every time somebody calls me a leader. Everytime somebody mentions my future in leadership.
I notice other people seem to have different pages. Smarter. Cooler looking. They clearly know what’s up. I check out Twitter and this woman Maha is asking 10 questions a minute. I try to calculate her time zone. I read her blog. I really start to panic. Then I have this realization that this is how the people I work with feel when I say “Click here. Or Click this.” It’s been a very long time since I’ve let technology intimidate me. I think, okay, this is good. I need to remember this feeling. This panic is a good reminder of why I like teaching adults about technology. I like calming people down yet I’m terrible at doing that for myself.
Maha DMs me. We have a short chat. Ten tweets later, she’s my friend. I know that’s really strange for people to believe, but there is enough of a digital record via her blog or her tweets, that I can say, yes, this person is a friend. It’s the same feeling I had about Joleen as I described above, yet I don’t know of any songs with Maha in the title.
Mike spends a ridiculous amount of time via Google Hangout to teach me about the fedwiki. My office technology makes everything harder. It’s the one day that I left my personal computer at home. Sigh.
Then I kind of get it. Watching him use it really helped me understand it better. I really start to enjoy writing in the federated wiki. I’ve lost all connection to being an eLearning Director. I’m no longer in this for my faculty member or as research for my job. I am writing. Creating. Having so much fun. I write something serious. I write something silly. It’s relaxing, stimulating, and really unlike anything I’ve done.
The next day, Kate Bowles picks up on the silly post and tells me she loves Jens Voigt.
Then Jenny Mackness likes my blog.
I fall down the rabbit hole of reading their blogs. I’m inspired more than ever to bloggy blog blog. (I follow all of them, you can see upper right).
Mike tweets a compliment about my thinking, Maha agrees, and I float. I had impromptu dance party in the kitchen with my dog. He chases me around and I do a kind of a two-step.
I really start paying closer attention to some of the videos that Mike had posted about the federated wiki. I take notes about my feelings of inadequacy about technology. I make some talking points to empathize with my future teacher-students. I daydream about some of the ways I want to help my professional technical teachers.
I start writing fedwiki articles. I spend time editing other people’s. I feel like I’m getting it. Even though I really can’t explain the “it” that I am claiming to get. I start bailing on plans with friends like Joleen. I go full-on hermit. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to write and read. I looked in the mirror at 1:30 and realize I’ve had Nutella on my chin for hours. I was also still in my pajamas.
Then I step in on a post titled “Clickin Chicken” and I really start get it. I stop caring if I’m right. I’m not sure if the fedwiki is software. If it’s like a browser. Or even if it’s been buggy. Everything wrong I assume was user-loser-error (me). But. It’s working with my brain. In cycling, when you’re really feeling good on the bike, it feels like your brain, body, and the bike are one machine. That sounds all cyborg and weird, but it’s really magical. I’ve never had that feeling with writing. Suddenly, I recognize a similarity between the bike-as-one feeling and writing on the fedwiki (I’ll expand on this idea later, but I need to get this list out of my head.)
I spend hours reading, writing, forking some, reading more, and it’s all by the fire with my dog. It’s the most time I’ve spent with him in months I realize. Leaving my adjunct/contract schedule has been hard on him. He’s not a fan of the M-F, 8-5 capitalistic grind, he tells me.
One night, I hop on a Google Hangout with Maha and Mike already in session. Ward jumps in. It’s so much fun that I have a hard time sleeping for hours. I regret something silly that I said to Ward. So I read and write some more.
I then realize that I want to go to a coffee shop. No more shut-in. I write a little pun about the wiki-world. I’m working endlessly on bloggy blog blogs in my head.
I edit one of Maha’s posts. I struggle a bit with what I do. She loves it. I fall more in love with the federated wiki with a devotion that now feels borderline obsessive.
I continue to do the writing. The forking. Then jobby-job-work begins again for two days. I come back to my sweet little office with a renewed sense about my writing. I fret that I won’t have access to the fedwiki once it’s over. Mike sends out a daily tiny letter summing up that he doesn’t want The Happening to end. The general spirit of the people in my neighborhood feels positive.
I bust out this crazy all over the place email to Mike. It’s the last thing I write before going into the backcountry. I begin to think that if I die in an avalanche, that crazy email will be the last thing I write. So I write one more article that’s kind of more like a list.

At the trailhead, I’m feeling kinda sad that I’m going to be taking a hiatus from writing. Then the resort worker who is hauling all of our stuff into the backcountry via snoe machine lifts up our case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and says in a perfect imitation of Dennis Hopper, “Pabst Blue Ribbon! Alyson and Tami, I’m glad this isn’t Heinkein!” To which I reply, “F—that shit!” Within minutes, I’m bonding with a stranger about Blue Velvet. It’s going to be great adventure. And it was.

Twenty minutes later, I said all of 1-24 above to Tami, and she asked, so where does that leave you? What’s next?

I’m not really sure, but I’m going to keep after it. Whatever the it—the federated wiki—and my writing becomes. I’ll be honest, I’m not interested in its flaws. All I can see is potential.

Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play? Open up your eyes.

Posted in All The Things | Tagged A Memoir, federated wiki, SFWH | 14 Comments

Rocking my world, #creativemadness, & FedWiki Happening

Posted on December 31, 2014 by Alyson Indrunas

I “supervise” two people who are talented, bright, and really, they need no oversight at all. They are usually on board with my crazy ideas, and I feel so lucky that I don’t have to convince them of anything–they seem to want to ride my crazy train. (They allow me to save my energy for the haters).

When I became the director last year, I decided to create some some sort of clever title for professional development one hour brown-bag sessions. We had transitioned to our current LMS, Canvas, and thought I long and hard to figure out a title that we could use for Canvas–as well as something that would last until, well, whatever will eventually come next. For those of you in eLearning, you know it’s only a matter of time until the next transition.

I came up with eCULT (eLearning Canvas Users Learning Together) or it could be eLearning Connecting Users Learning Together (should we no longer use Canvas). Steal it, if you love this acronym! And wow, how fun to have the word “CULT” appear in the email subject line for those who dismiss my learnings arts. I giggle every time we send eCULT reminders. “Stop by for eCULT: We’re waiting for you!”

Haters are gonna hate, as they say, but the faculty who get it, really appreciate the humor. And I affectionately call you “my peeps.” Gansta slang is such a gift to humanity!

Here’s a bit of text from my inbox. An average day at the office, if you will. Currently my team is working on ways to get more faculty involved with our Instructional Designer. We’re creating a post-card for our professional technical teachers. The team sent the draft to me to “approve it.” Here’s what I wrote:

Love the flowchart–looks great. I did see one typo in the box to the right. Looks like a lowercase C and not an E. It’s here:

cCULT (eLearning Canvas Users Learning Together)

Fix that, and once Jeff decides on a color, be like Jean-Luc Picard and make it so.

Rocking my world–Alyson

I’m not sure if that’s leadership. I’m not sure if that’s appropriate boss behavior. Whatever. I just don’t want them to feel bad about the typo, and really, they are doing the hard work. And I dig it.

After I sent that email, one of the photography teachers, Ellen Felsenthal, shows up to do some winter quarter prep. We listen to her talk about her trip to Costa Rica. About her lost cat. About how she hasn’t brushed her hair. And I bask in the Ellen-ness. I’ve missed her, and she’s always herself no matter what the situation. We’ve bonded over Nick Cave (she has one of his sweaters!), dogs, bad men, good men, Viggo Mortensen, stupid stuff on the Internet, music, movies, and whatever else pops into our brains. She’s somebody I never get to spend enough time with–she runs a goat rescue farm (I love goats!) and she teaches full-time (I love teachers!). She rides horses, I ride bikes. But we always connect. Instant friend, that Ellen.

But I really want to tell you about her work. She does these wonderful photos of animals and landscapes. Check out the back of this horse in the foreground. Note the background hills. Pay attention to the layers in the hills and clouds.

My little photo does not do her work justice, but I bring it to you, for two reasons. One, I think she’s a very talented artist who has such a unique eye for nature and animals. If you look closely at her work, it’s hard to tell where the animal ends and the landscape begins.

Two, her work makes me think of the FedWiki Happening or what will now be called, The FedWiki Occasional.

For better or for worse, I’ve thrown out a lot of ideas today in meetings, and I’m reminded how I easily I lose focus; I spend too much time on the foreground. I’d rather that my thoughts be in those hills in Ellen’s photo, but I am usually down in the fur. Sometimes there is a certain beauty to that furry focus–the day to day. Sometimes there is a certain beauty in seeing what’s in the distance. Sometimes I like to shift focus between the foreground and the background. I’m working on a much more eloquent–I hope–post on what I’ve learned through this experiment. In the meantime, here’s what I sent Mike today.

Sorry, for the scattered thoughts, but really, that’s why the fedwiki works for me. It’s like software that understands my brain and all of its shortcomings and flaws. I’ve been a part of some amazing things this past year that I helped happen, and this experience has been all for me. All wonderful. All encouraging and lovely. I haven’t fully reflected on it yet but it’s changed everything for me as a writer. It’s been selfish, selfless, and quite spectacular–life-changing. Oh, and I mean that so sincerely.

Does the “life-changing” point sound eCultish? Sound insincere? Hippy-dippy? Well, I told you I was working on a better post. And an email to Maha. And the email I sent Mike is kind of borderline crazy train.

But for tonight: I want to carve out some time for the FedWiki Happening while my friend packs her gear for our trip. It takes a tremendous amount of gear for a snowshoe trip in the backcountry when it’s going to be in the 20s! Oh. Snow Joy! And right now I need to say goodbye for a few days to my fedwiki neighbors who have been reading my blog.

If I had to choose a song to sum up how this all feels to people who haven’t been a part of it, I can’t help but think of Third Bardo’s “I’m Five Years Ahead of My Time”

It’s not about little ol’ me being ahead of anyone, it’s not about me being in a new dimension, it’s not about me being the first ever Happening.

It’s about federated wiki and the guys who have helped pull this off. They have stepped inside my mind and created something I love. Note these lyrics:

Don’t waste any time girl, step inside my mind/I’m 5 years ahead of my time/Look into my mind, look ahead, don’t look behind/I’m 5 years ahead of my time

I was trying to get philosophical and then I got this tweet:

And Catherine Cronin says it best: Thank you for the #creativemadness!

Fare thee well for now, neighbors, and I hope to still be in your neighborhood in 2015 and beyond! Happy New Year, readers:)

Posted in All The Things | Tagged federated wiki, leadership, SFWH | 9 Comments

The weekend was too short, but I can’t choose

Posted on December 29, 2014 by Alyson Indrunas

Well, friends, holiday time is over at least for two days. Here’s what I listened to this morning until I hit the Stillaguamish River where my car magically hooks up with KEXP.

That’s Hazel Dickens on the left, btw, master of the high-lonesome. She’s the singer at a funeral in the John Sayles’ film Matewan. Hazel and Alice do an amazing “Long Black Veil” as well, and they were pioneers of blue grass storytelling. If you don’t know them, and you like songs from Appalachia, then consider this my Monday gift to you. (blog title* credit for when Hazel and Alice tell speak the truth.)

Here’s a quote from my “SFwiki-Happening-teacher” and pay close attention, folks, who keep telling me I should go back to graduate school to earn a doctorate. True, I know you mean well. True, I should take it as a compliment. True, I’d rather watch ice form.

My GRE scores have expired. And I’m done with that style of learning. And last I checked, I’m still paying for my previous self to attend graduate school so please press play on “The Working Girl’s Blues.”

Here’s a bit of why I don’t have time for graduate school. I would have to miss out on cool questions like this:

SFWiki-Happening-teacher: “…having come back from Ward’s holiday party with maybe one too many London Fogs in my system (I took a taxi, don’t worry), I want to issue a challenge. Read those two links. THEN SHOW ME ANYWHERE ON THE WEB WHERE ANYTHING LIKE THIS IS HAPPENING.

I’m pretty literate in newer applications of social media. I’ve been in cMOOCs, xMOOCs, learning communities, blogging circles, tweetathons, hackathons, writeathons, Tumblr courses, online organizing, hyperlocal communities. I’ve helped teachers teach a two dozen different ways with dozen different technologies.

I have honestly never seen something this fluid and generative. Have you?”

Wiki-Student (c’est moi):

Nope. Nada. Nowhere. I’m not as practiced in the newer applications that you mention, but I know how they work. And I can’t think of one example. In fact, I’ve got a quick analogy. See the tape deck below–yes, you read that right–my tape deck just died in my van.

One the third day of the Happening, I was freaking out about this 20th century technology finally dying in my 1987 VW Vanagon. And it got me thinking, so to speak:

The broken tape deck is the only comparison that I can think of to describe how I mostly collaborate online. If the SFWH is blue tooth streaming, then what I’m back to doing in the office is like this clapped out tape player.

Here’s what happened: We were listening to Lou Reed, and the tape did that skip back. Then it flipped. Then it skipped. Then it flipped. Remember that technology? Remember that moment of panic where you ejected your tape hoping it wasn’t eaten? Ah, the memories! Remember why you don’t have a tape deck in your car these days?

Heading back to work today, I’m right back to the tape deck. After 9 glorious days of holiday and the SFWH, I’m having a really hard time focusing. This blog post is only happening because of my lunch break, and I’ve got a few thoughts to share. I can’t go into the SFWH with so little time.

So here are some quick observations from SFWH:

1. If Maha lived close by, I would have taken another vacation day, and we’d be having tea right now.

2. Mike has clearly revealed the superiority of birds in his video on finding the Original Poster.

Below is what my dog, Elroy, looked like while I did most of SFWH work. He did not have any patience for the original poster, the edits, or any of it. Mike’s bird forked like 10 pages while Elroy snored loudly.

Birds

I also spent most of days in front of this fire, and despite loving my colleagues and my place of work, it’s really hard not to miss that fire. That dog. That time. Those books. That time. Oh, that time.

3. If you can show me a graduate professor would make a Cher reference in his lecture, then I might consider studying for the GRE again. (It’s hard to tell who is more fabulous–Cher herself or the legions of drag queens she has influenced).

4. Here’s a quick must-have-attitude for the SFWH from Mike’s latest letter. This pretty much sums up the spirit you have to have AND enjoy while working in the SFWH. (Oh, that time.)

Say it to yourself while looking the mirror:

“I crack myself up sometimes. Long live obscure nonsensical references.”

Posted in All The Things | Tagged Elroy, federated wiki, SFWH, Writing | 2 Comments

As I walk through this wiki-world

Posted on December 28, 2014 by Alyson Indrunas

The screenshot above is from the last composition course that I taught: English 102: Composition II spring quarter 2013. This was an Honors course at my college, so I tried to take my standard curriculum and create self-directed assignments. Our Honors program focuses on creating quality not increased quantity for students–and I miss teaching these courses.

For this assignment, I used a cell phone poll to ask the students which group–or cohort–they would like to join. They could choose from MOOCs (it was 2013), Film Reviewers, Research Techies, Community Reporters, or Wiki Builders. The idea was that they would break into cohorts with different themes about Food Sustainability in America (that was the course theme). Some students would take a MOOC together, and some would research documentary films. The Research Techies would put together a study guide that I would use for the next course and the Community Reporters would investigate what their fellow students knew about food sustainability. And the wiki builders were going to work with all of the groups to create a wiki of all of the above by working with our assigned librarian. At the end of the quarter, we were going to host an “Honors Symposium” where they would report their research to people we invited. The main idea, I told them, was to not only share their research, they would have something to put on their resumes.

If they were dogs, all of their ears would have pointed in my direction.

When I did this cell phone poll, I expected more of a distribution in their responses, and I was shocked that nobody selected the Wiki Builders. I watched the bar chart shift and change as students entered their choices. My first question was:

Why is nobody selecting the Wiki Builders? Do I need to explain the assignment more?

Crickets. Blank stares.

One female student raised her hand timidly: “I’ve always been told not to use wikis, and I don’t want to get in trouble. I really want to transfer to WSU.”

Me: Why would you get in trouble?

Another student: Wikis got that guy in trouble with the CIA.

Another student: Yeah, I want to do something cool, Ms. Indrunas, but this is scary.

Me: Wait. What? What am I asking you to do that’s illegal? What’s so scary? (Was I being punked by my students?)

Another student: You know wikis are going to send that one guy to prison. Can’t remember his name.

Me: What guy? Somebody get your phone and look this up. Can you guys Google this? I have no idea what you guys are…

Student: Julian Assange. That dude.

Me:

I turned off the screen, and give them a little history lesson about how WikiLeaks and Wikis are two very different things. They shared with me how much their high school teachers scared them out of using Wikipedia. They would get zeroes on their assignments.

I ask them–show of hands –how many of you did it anyway? Everyone’s hands shot up.

The “Don’t be afraid to use Wikipedia” lecture was a cornerstone of my Week 2 lesson plan. It was fun to shock them with a story that everyone I know who researches, writes, and for that matter breathes, uses Wikipedia.

I would then advise them to ask all of their new teachers forevermore the following question when they were assigned a research project:

“Professor X, is okay if we start our research by using Wikipedia?”

If they say, “No way! That’s not what scholars do…we walked 20 miles in the snow when I was your age to get to the library….bladdy blahhh blaaa.”

Then nod your head, students, and pretend like you’re listening to them and do it anyway. Advise all of your friends to do the same. Don’t tell anyone you got this advice from me.

If the teacher says, “Why yes, 21st century scholars, I encourage students…I use Wikipedia in my research….I love the Internets…”

Then rejoice and tell all of your friends to take that teacher’s class.

For non-believers who think I’m a bad teacher, well, I corrupted your children for years! Mwhhhaaa hhhaaaa! For the record, most students know how to scroll down to find the source material. They’ve all seen or heard of Stephen Colbert’s Wikiality. Let them use Wikipedia as a starting point. It’s just like Encyclopedia Britannica for their generation, and they understand how it works. They understand its limits.

After I informed everyone they wouldn’t end up going underground for their research assignment, I put the cell phone poll back up, and nobody selected the Wiki Builders again. But this time they all admitted that they liked the other assignments better. I accepted that, and scratched the wiki. My assignment could have been written better, honestly.

What I’ve written above is actually an idea I wrote about by hand in my journal after I read Mike Caulfield’s Wikiality post back in November. I’ve told that “We don’t want to be Julian Assange story” many times as a bit of a joke. But wow, I may have felt differently if I had a daughter in The System.

That high school, btw, should be kicking itself for losing the opportunity to teach his daughter! It’s a bit like telling Evil Knievel’s daughter that motorcycle stunts are a lame waste of time. What a bunch of chump suckers!

Okay, that’s a really silly comparison, but I had to find a way to include that video.

Now that I’m a part of SFWH, I’ve been thinking a lot about how we share ideas. Who owns those ideas. And how we teach students about using those ideas. I am currently a member of the SBCTC eLearning Council, or the eLC, and we collaborate weekly in ways that are counterintuitive to the way our students are being forced to collaborate. At any time, the eLC has to take that Evil Knievel spirit and jump those 19 cars together.

If you have a problem, several people share their solutions.

If you need help, several people come to the rescue.

If you don’t have time to create something, somebody else shares what they did, and you can make it work for your institution.

If you create something that you think is cool, we have a shared repository where anyone at any time can copy, reuse, or remix the information. After spending a decade working in English departments, I can’t tell you how refreshing I find this work. The eLC is one of the best professional experiences I’ve ever had, and my only regret is that I only see them as a group four times a year. My work with the eLC is so unlike anything I’ve ever done as a teacher or a student.

So back to the SFWH: Yesterday when I was working on the SFWH at a coffee shop, my caffeinated husband started singing “As I walk through, this wiki world…” and said, “you need to title one your pages with that.”

Me: It’s “wicked world”–that’s what Elvis is singing about.

Him: I thought you could write whatever you want “cuz, what’s so funny about peace love and understanding…”

Then we looked up the video:

Then we talked about how we choose to see Wilco instead of Elvis Costello at Seattle’s Bumbershoot (a music festival) years back. No regrets on that–then he brought up a story about Seattle that I had forgotten.

And I said, “Okay, I need to focus. I can’t have all those crazy typos again. ”

To which he replied, “Cool, I’ll let you walk through your wiki-world.”

Posted in All The Things | Tagged federated wiki, SFWH, TeacherlyThoughts | 3 Comments

Imagine the horror and the beauty

Posted on December 27, 2014 by Alyson Indrunas

Over the past week, I’ve had more time on my hands than usual, and I love it. You know those people who say, “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t work?” Seriously?!

I really despise the word “Staycation” but that summarizes what I’ve been doing. Let’s just say, I may or may not have applied for a job that would have required us to move, so we didn’t make any plans. Turns out, I’m so exhausted from this past quarter, it’s just been plain heavenly to sit, think, write, daydream, cook, knit, watch movies, and listen to music.

Truth be told: I need some distance on the past four months before I can truly reflect on what I’ve learned. It’s been the best of times and worst of times, if I may use a phrase from Uncle Charlie.

A few days ago, I spent some time with my GoodReads profile. After reading Tolstoy and the Purple Chair, I decided I’m going to read the 100 books I’ve currently marked from 2012-to the present. Of course, I’ll let myself get off track by taking on recommendations, but I’ve been inspired by Nina Sankovitch. I deleted a bunch that have been on my list for a few years, and that somehow made me feel better. For all of my ed. tech love and OER, I still crave books. Sometimes I use the iPad for eBooks, but I mostly read novels printed on paper.

I just finished reading Carsick by John Waters. After seeing him on the Colbert Report, I bought the book the next day. Waters advises single people to go hitchhiking instead of using dating websites! I don’t usually buy hardback books, and from 2009-2012, I made the financial decision that I wouldn’t buy any books—or very few of them. Everything had to come from the library or from the Internet. Taking a hard look at the budget, I realized that it wasn’t uncommon for us to spend $25-50 here and there on books. We had to be either bibliophiles or bike geeks; we couldn’t be both.

So when I was “made” last year at my job (I like to use mafia language when I talk about positions in higher ed. ), I relieved us of the no-book-purchasing-edict, and we started buying books again. Life has begun again!

Water’s book appealed to me because I love hitchhiking (Gosh, I hope my Mom doesn’t see this post). In the 90s, I hitchhiked a lot in mountain towns. People in small mountain towns were cool, and tourists loved picking up locals. The only time I had two dudes my age make me feel uncomfortable, I asked them to stop so I could call “my really hot friend who I knew would love to meet them. ” They let me out of the car, and I disappeared behind a convenience store to use a pay-phone, and I broke into a run. A mile up the road, a senior citizen woman on her way to The Goodwill picked me up, and we had a lovely time talking about Oprah. Those sketchy dudes never saw me again–but what if I had had a cell phone then? How would I have gotten out that situation? I often lament the disappearance of the pay phones and phone booths. But I digress.

I loved the idea of a hitchhiking book—and all I could think of was—How would you NOT know that was John Waters on the side of the road?

During the time that he was on the road traveling, I would have been in full-on-graduate student-adjunct-horror mode, so I didn’t really have time for silliness on the Internet. So I missed his play by play record with folks writing about it on the Interwebs—and I’m putting off looking them up because I have to get my own thoughts down.

First of all, I love the structure of the book. Leave it to a director to create the same story three different ways. He sets out on a journey from his home in Baltimore, MD to his other home in San Francisco—all by hitchhiking. One section is the worst case-scenario, one is the best-case scenario, and the other is a record of what really happened. In the real-time account, he uses examples from the nightmare and the ideal as flashback references for the reader. Genius!

I’ve been reading this book at night before I go to sleep, so it’s taken me about two months to finish it two-three pages at a time. I’m pretty sure my husband is thrilled that I’m done because I woke him up several times by trying to stifle my laughter which only shook the bed and woke him up anyway. (How this man patiently puts up with my brand of crazy still shocks me).

I used a pencil to mark my favorite quotes and all of the song references. Turns out he lists the entire sound-track at the end of the book. Oh, John, I so wished I had been in the middle of Kansas to pick you up!

Here are some parts of the book that I marked, and I’ll try not to spoil anything should you want to read this, and I won’t list the page numbers. It’ll be a 5 star on my GoodReads, btw, and I’m glad that I read it slowly. On some of those nights, I really needed a laugh. Numbered below are direct quotes and the indentations are my thoughts.

1. He reflects the last time he hitchhiked prior to this book was with Patty Hearst, and called them “a hitchhiking comedy duo.”

I do a wicked imitation of Hearst’s SLA declaration: “This is Tania. I’m going to read a declaration of war.” When I get my husband’s voicemail, I like to leave just that quote.

2. Oh, no! Not again! Another fan thinks I’m Steve Buscemi.

I mistook Buscemi at first for Waters’ cameo, so this is hilarious.

3. I look out the window and all is silent. It’s like a happy Jonestown.

So morbidly fantastic.

4. My dentist warns me off Jujyfruits, but I say Fuck Him, I brag.

This is from a section where he meets a trucker, btw.

5. I have been obsessed by Connie Francis’s late career for years and know she still occasionally performs, even doing four-and-a-half hour “greatest hits” concerts. God, if you can imagine the beauty and the horror* of these shows, you will understand why I continue to be her devoted fan. (*credit for my blog title).

Next to Grease, Where The Boys Are (the original, not the crappy 80s version) warped my brain about love and womanhood as a young girl. I watched those movies over and over again. And I love, love, love Connie Francis.

6. I struggle to put on my pants and run up to the highway and begin waving my hands to oncoming traffic as much as Marilyn Burns did at the end of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

I can’t top that.

7. Also, I hate to tell you this, but can’t you see? Your cat hates you.

Or that.

8. But God knows, he looks like the real thing. Almost like the Hells Angels. Which makes me feel warm and fuzzy because I’m a real sucker for these guys.

Every mention of biker dudes kills me in this book. I won’t quote the best one so you can discover it all on your own.

9. Sure’—he laughs—‘who’s gonna pick up ‘Charlie Manson Jr. as you call me? You know what they say about Kansas, don’t you?’ What? I bite. ‘Come on vacation, leave on probation!’ I could fall in lust.

I’m totally using that for all my friends who come to visit WA state from Red States. ‘Come on vacation, leave on probation!’

10. He reminds me of all the real bikers I know and love from the Holiday House…Turns out he is biker. So was his father. So was his grandfather. A long line of bikers! Almost like the flip side of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Okay, this is magical for two reasons: DAR women would die a million deaths to be compared to bikers. And my grandmother waited tables at the Howard Johnsons–The Holiday House–in East Pittsburgh for a long time. My uncle once told me that when his friends met her, they all thought she looked like Judy Garland, and he was so proud. My grandmother had lovely red hair before it went gray, an infectious laugh, and she liked to write letters.She bought me a book-of-the-month subscription for Christmas every year when I was a kid. I miss her. And Mr. Waters ends his book with a reference to Judy Garland’s San Francisco.

Eat your heart out, young pop stars. Check out her completely on-the-fly-moves with the microphone. All class, that Judy.

Posted in All The Things | Tagged BookReviews, Reading | Leave a comment

SFWH: Creating our own personal little lakes. Or ponds. Or puddles.

Posted on December 26, 2014 by Alyson Indrunas

“But the answer is simple. Love is a mix tape.”
― Rob Sheffield, Love is a Mix Tape

Recently I was asked to speak to a group of student leaders at the Washington State Legislative Academy, and I wanted to give them some advice on how to talk to old people—haters my age—about open educational resources. I decided to use an example that would be hard for a millennial to imagine mixed with a short history lesson.

I got asked to do this, btw, because all of the cool OER kids were at OpenEd 2014 and some folks in the SBCTC system recommended me. Thank you, friends, it was so fun and I floated for days.

Here’s my presentation wiki http://bit.ly/1uO5ZbY

Here’s what I told the students as a way to contextualize Open Education and the rising cost of textbooks. I started with an anecdotal history lesson:

It’s 1986. Say somebody liked you, but this person was kind of shy so he or she would spend hours, and I mean hours, making a mix tape. (Point to cassette tape on screen). By recording songs from records, the radio, other tapes, or other mixed tapes, he or she would make the perfect collection of songs. Just for you.

In the 80s, this was kind of a standard declaration of love. In the 90s, this same idea was transferred to making a mixed CD from computer files. Not the same time investment, mind you, but still sweet.

To this day, when I hear certain songs, I half expect to hear the next song from a lost mix tape from long, long ago. I still hear the squeaks and bad edits from loves that I lost.

I discovered this idea reading Rob Sheffield’s Love is a Mix Tape. He uses a collection of mix tapes to work his way through unimaginable grief. It got me thinking, so to speak.

The reusing, revising, remixing of those songs created something new. Just for me.

And everyone I knew did this style of copying once cassette recorders became widely available. If you are person of a certain age, I bet you used this song on a least one tape:

I told the future student leaders that we–oldsters my age–bootlegged to create crappy versions of records onto cheap cassettes. Before file sharing online, before iTunes and such, this was how you shared music. I thought if the kiddies could point that out to the haters this bit of history then they might be able to contextualize open education. Appeal to your elders’ nostalgia and see what happens, I advised.

I’ve also been thinking about how to support my 10 faculty members who are a part of my Alternative Textbook Committee (we didn’t use OER because nobody knew/knows what that means). The hardest part of integrating OER into your course is getting over the idea that you have to write everything yourself. Last year, we had several meltdowns that I’d like to avoid. I’m also thinking about ways somebody would teach newbies how the SFWH works.

The faculty I worked with are currently featured on Open Washington. When I first listened to their interviews, I was so proud of them, I cried. Boyoung Chae at the state board made this happen so quickly I’m constantly in awe of this woman. Our committee was the best thing I helped make happen in 2014.

So. This year, I want the experience to be better. Last night, thanks to greater-than-average-sugar-consumption, I couldn’t sleep. So I finally got to watching some of Ward Cunningham’s videos about the SFW.

Video 1

And then this one:

Video 2

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Hey loser, shouldn’t you have done that before you went into the SFWH? And if you’re one of the 6,000 people who have watched one of these videos, you may have a strong urge to punch me.

Fair criticism. Hear me out:

I’m very sincere when I say I wanted to experience the frustration of Not Getting It. Of what it’s like to sit in front of something you really want to use, but you Don’t Get It. And you’re a bit terrified of looking like an impostor if you ask too many questions.

You really want to get to the writing and the ideas, but you can’t get to that because you don’t understand the medium.

Experiment successful, folks, it’s frickin’ terrifying. (Pardon my non-academic speak).

People who work with technology—whatever the technology might be—usually have a common spirit of wanting to just getting our hands dirty. We enjoy the challenge. As my friend/colleague Chris Soran says, with a sparkle of excitement and a bit of giggle, “Let’s break it so we can understand how to fix it. “

Only we work with people who don’t enjoy the process. They just want to get to The It.

Here’s an example of what it’s like to work with a teacher or a student who does not have basic computer literacy yet she is trying to use an LMS. (And this is not a joke, nor is this an exaggeration). She calls with problem with our current LMS. She’s using the LMS to store files—handouts—for students who can’t make it to class. Or she’s a student trying to access those files because she missed class. Something has gone wrong.

Me: Okay, let’s start with your browser. What browser are you using?

Silence.

Me: Thanks for calling me, and I can help if I know how you got online. Did you click on the blue E to get to the Internet?

Confused LMS user: I’m not sure.

Me: Okay. What about the one that looks like a fox with its tail on fire? Yes, kind of the Hunger Games logo, you’re right. Good.

Confused LMS user: I don’t think so. I just click on whatever the Best Buy guy set up so I can get to the Internet.

Me: Okay, I understand. What about clicking on a circle that’s several colors? Did that get you to the Internet?

By then, she is about to cry. Her voice is getting shaky. I can hear kids screaming in the background. Or phones ringing. I tell her, click on the X to shut down your browser—or the window that takes you to the Internet.

We start all over. This person may have had an hour in her day to work on The Thing. And we we wasted half of it because she doesn’t understand basic computer literacy.

I haven’t been in this space in a very long time, and I’m by no means a know-everything-there-is-to-know kind of computer geek. The SFWH made me feel pretty clueless, but I enjoy the process of trying to understand it. And now I’m thinking of ways to explain how it works to other people. I think I have a better grasp on it, but I still have a lot to learn.

So in Video 1 starting from minute 7:00, Ward demonstrates what I bumbled around and tried to teach myself. I wasted 90 minutes of Mike’s time trying to learn what Ward says in those six minutes. (Substitute any techie language for ideas or writing, and it will make more sense, I promise.)

Yes, Ward, “The opportunities are fabulous.”

In video 2, he talks about “wanting to support a community.” So at minute 7:46 , Ward explains his philosophy. He says, “We can all be unique but we can still make choices together.” That’s the forking, DUH! Helloooooo!

Earlier in the talk he mentions that in the blogosphere there are voices on opposite sides of the spectrum and wiki-pedia forces a kind of middle-ground among those voices. The SFWH respects all of the voices by creating what he calls a harmony. He then describes why he made the pages smaller—so it’s easier to see other people’s work.

Suddenly Mike’s presentation at NW eLearn and his blog posts make a bit more sense. The ideas get sharper—more focused for me. During Mike’s presentation, btw, I was in a group with a lovely woman who kept asking me questions about other things. And I was grouped with three people who didn’t know how wikis worked. So I had to go back to his blog and reread his slides because one of my history faculty members was in the front of the room, and she thought the idea just rocked.

She and I spent the previous night talking about how she struggles to get student buy-in working in a STEM-focused program. Two of the Humanities teachers in the program whom I know very well are dynamite teachers, but they struggle against the current cultural of STEM worship that has tricked the students into thinking that the Humanities work takes them away from the REAL work. Working in the SFWH would help them see connections easier. Clearer. Faster. They also work with longitudinal data from previous cohorts, so it would be easier for the students to see what their predecessors did. And how their current work connects to the big project in oceanography. If I could have a SFW, this program is my first choice not because I admire their work, but because they need something like this.

I see so much potential for interdisciplinary programs and OER—I’m so excited I could just spit.

Which bring me back to The Thing–I need a way to explain the SFWH. But I also need to prepare for my Alternative Textbook Committee. Starting Winter quarter, I will co-facilitate our meetings. My co-chair is working on building material for his own class, so I want to do the bulk of the work to prepare for our meetings.

So here’s my stab for today–it might change tomorrow. I’m trying to use this blog to outline what I’m learning, so that maybe it will help somebody in my neighborhood.

Let’s use music as analogy. Only I want you to think about the words not the music. Instead of using the lyrics, I’ll use videos of songs. It will be faster, and more enjoyable I hope.

Here’s a clip of Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs singing “Old Salty Dog Blues.” This is an American folk song from the 1900s, and the oldest version I could find the YouTubes. In SFW, this would be one page.

And hot diggity that’s some awesome banjo:

Here’s page 2 created by somebody else: Doc Watson’s version from a documentary. I remember hearing him say that Flatt and Scruggs influenced him. Watson’s version–or page 2–is slightly different but it’s the same song. It’s his yet it’s somebody else’—all at the same time.

And check out the folks dancing in this video. I am totally busting those moves on New Year’s Eve! Those cats know how to party—check out the skirt on Doc’s daughter and the champion step dancer’s shoes. Pay attention to how he breaks it down at the end–style, my friends, is dying art.

Page 3: Now check out Cat Power’s version from her Covers Record. Some critics really diss on her for this album because it’s not original (not the album title, Geniuses). I beg to differ—I think it’s such a creative album. She makes all of these songs her very own.

I might have a hard time stepping to this tune, but I love Cat Power’s version all the same. Just for another reason. I don’t always feel like stepping. Just like I don’t always feel like forking.

So, like Ward says in either Video 1 or 2, the act of copying is creative. The forking—or the copying—is an act of creativity. Cover bands are very popular, people practice by imitating songs they love—that’s how they learn how to play. Art students practice by imitation. Knitters follow patterns created by somebody else. Cooks follow recipes written by others.

There are countless examples of imitation as art—but for some reason—we don’t extend that creative right to the written word. The open education movement challenges this tradition, and it’s hard to ignore its momentum at a time when students are paying more for their textbooks than ever before—the very thing they need to succeed in their courses–they can’t afford.

But you know this. (Preacher, remember your choir).

With the ideas in SWFH, you can take the words of Doc, Lester, Earl, and Cat Power and then make something of your own. All of the voices are always there ready to remix. You can create your own song by clicking and dragging. You can add your own riff or new lyric.

Turns out, Ward and Mike have already talked about this very idea:

At minute 5:50 Mike describes the exact point of frustration for faculty who are new to OER. And why it’s perceived to be so hard. So time consuming. This is what I’m trying to avoid with the next committee.

What I’m interested in beyond my own personal writing for the SFWH is how this can help teachers struggling to curate their own materials for their courses. And it’s nice to see somebody with a much bigger audience than me already working towards this idea. I’m climbing an uphill battle in my own work by trying to convince people who control funding sources that investing in faculty to learn how to use OER is faculty-centered professional development that yields student-centered results. It’s good for adjuncts. It’s good for students. It’s good for libraries. In this next paragraph, the “this” can be either SFW or OER to summarize my current thinking.

How this can help teachers collaborate–especially ones who are not worth the investment because they “part-time” or contingent. How this can help students collaborate with their peers and their teachers.

How we can take this giant sea of information to create our own personal little lakes. Or ponds. Or puddles.

And this makes me want to step like that guy in the Doc Watson video.

Posted in All The Things | Tagged federated wiki, OERBlatherings, Writing | 11 Comments