Scanlon and Issoff (2005) ‘Activity Theory and Higher Education…’

Scanlon and Issoff explore technologies in Higher Education, from an Activity Theory perspective. They challenge purely quantitative interpretations of the impact of technology in H.E.: ‘many approaches to evaluation of learning technology share at least one underlying assumption: that an increase in the volume of students using technologies or time spent using a technology or more courses incorporating technology as part of the learning environment is a desirable outcome which will lead to more learning’ (p. 431). Following an Activity Theory line, Scanlon and Issoff are more interested in what learners actually do with technologies.

Their analysis was published in 2005, but even at this time they argued, ‘The primary contradiction in higher education activity takes the form of the student as person to be educated versus student as a source of revenue and profit’ (p. 433). In the aftermath of the Browne Review, and the likely rise in tuition fees from c.3k per year to up to 9k per year, this contradiction can only become more acute. However, the Activity Theorist might argue this is, paradoxically, a good thing, because contradictions and tensions generate new knowledge; the reaction to the fees increase suggests the student population as a whole is expanding its awareness of the social impact of economic and political decisions.

Scanlon and Issoff provide an anecdotal account of how technology is altering relationships within Higher Education: ‘In one particular instance, several students attempted to help the lecturer to fix the technology so that he could continue his lecture with the complex medical images he had prepared on his laptop. This is a change in the normal rules of the lecture method in that usually students are passive recipients who sit in the audience while the lecturer stands up on stage presenting information. When the technology failed, some students broke the normal rules and tried to help the lecturer. This also represents a change in the division of labour in the learning setting’ (p. 435). Relying on technology in a classroom setting relies, in turn, on competence with technology which, unlike subject competence, is not the preserve of the lecturer. Therefore, relationships get reconfigured in order to better the learning experience for everyone. In this sense technology has the potential to change relationships within higher education.

A further respect in which technology may be changing relationships within Higher Education relates to the amount of information available online: ‘For students, their enthusiastic adoption of the resources they found serendipitously on the Web was unproblematic. However, it was problematic for staff who thought that pre-selected links which had previously been evaluated were more suitable for students. Once again, students’ and tutors’ expectations were different in terms of who has control of the teaching and learning in this setting. In Activity Theory terms, this can be expressed as a change in the division of labour which applies to making selections or judging the appropriateness of resources’ (p. 436). Universities traditionally held control over information. Libraries opened at times to suit the institution, and finite numbers of each book were held in stock. Technology enables any time, anywhere access, and it is for universities to respond to change and make more information available more easily to students, who are paying more for their education and expect more in return. The Activity Theorist might suggest that students have empowered themselves by finding information where they can, not where the university wants them to. If the university is, reasonably, concerned about the quality of information found by students it would make sense to teach information literacy in entertaining and interactive ways, in order to better support students.

Reference
Scanlon, E. and Issoff, K. (2005) ‘Activity Theory and Higher Education: evaluating learning technologies’ Journal of Computer Assisted Learning vol. 21, pp. 430-439.

English apprenticeship from past to present

Another chapter from Communities of Practice: critical perspectives (2007).

Unwin identifies a tension inherent in the communities of practice model: ‘the survival and reproduction of communities of practice depends on newcomers but, at the same time, their arrival threatens the role of old-timers’ (p. 112). Therefore, communities of practice learning is not necessarily smoothly centripetal. Instead, tension is inscribed within it. Does it follow therefrom that the new entrant is axiomatically threatening? Not necessarily, but as the entrant to the community forms their identity within that community, a perception of their identity as, ultimately, either threat or asset will be formed by the other community members. The new entrant therefore needs to be mindful of the identity they are creating, in order to gain acceptance.

Unwin also nuances her discussion through inclusion of what Nickson et al (2003) call ‘aesthetic labour’, in which ‘“looking good” or “sounding right” are the most overt manifestations of aesthetic labour. In essence, with aesthetic labour, employers are seeking employees who can portray the firm’s image through their work, and at the same time appeal to the sense of the customer for those firms’ commercial benefit’ (p. 113). Acceptance into a community of practice is not simply a question of technical competence, but of cultural acclimatisation. Therefore, the new entrant either requires an a priori identity which is in harmony with the ideal identity desired by the institution, or the new entrant has sufficient flexibility to shape their identity to the context they find themselves in.

It seems, therefore, that a lot is demanded of the new entrant, who needs to be concerned about how they are perceived by established figures. A measure of acceptance by the wider community precedes a willingness to induct the new entrant effectively; the new entrant may spend a long time on the periphery, or may be excluded if they do not acquire an identity that the community finds acceptable. The entrant who does have an identity that finds favour with the institution is at a clear advantage.

It may seem, therefore, that the new entrant is best advised to ‘not rock the boat’ and to ensure they gain acceptance, but this makes innovation harder because there is pressure to conform to an existing culture, not challenge it. Maybe the edges of communities of practice need to be the most tolerant spaces, rather than the most well fortified.

References

Nickson, D., Warhurst, C., Cullen, A.M. and Watt, A. (2003) ‘Bringing in the excluded? Aesthetic labour, skills and training in the “new” economy’, Journal of Education and Work, vol. 16, no. 2, pp. 185-203.

Unwin, L. (2007) ‘English apprenticeship from past to present’ in Hughes, J., Jewson, N. and Unwin, L. (eds.) Communities of Practice: critical perspectives, Abingdon, Routledge.

Cultivating network analysis

Another chapter from Communities of practice: critical perspectives.
Nick Jewson writes about individuals on the outskirts: ‘Those on the periphery of a network may have attenuated connections with the centres of decision making but nevertheless exercise great importance as the primary point of contact with outsiders and members of other networks’ (p. 73). Jewson gives physical examples (receptionists, concierges) but we can factor in the online world, too. A new entrant to an H.E.I. can bring with them a technology they’ve used beforehand (I’m playing with Wallwisher at the moment). Does the institution welcome the new technology, or exclude it?

Given the basic structure of the communities of practice model, it can be argued that it is a centralised network. This, in Jewson’s understanding, can lead to ‘panoptical surveillance and monitoring of subordinates by seniors or their agents’ (pp. 73-74). New entrants to communities are subject to surveillance: new employees are expected to pick up the culture of a workplace and learn their place in the pecking order. New entrants to universities are assessed early on in their learning journey. This is not necessarily sinister, but it does highlight some of the dilemmas of the new entrant. What does the community do if the new entrant does something unfamiliar?

Jewson argues that some of the communities of practice studied originally by Lave and Wenger (1991) do not give opportunities to members to move to other communities (he gives Yucatec midwives as an example). Jewson further argues that communities of practice ‘raise high barriers to entry and exit from the group’ (p. 78) and while this may be true of some of the communities studied by Lave and Wenger, it is not true of H.E.I.s, as students are required to maintain standards in assessment or risk being removed from the community. Student support services can improve levels of attainment and retention, but the sanction of removal remains and thus the community member can experience a distinct kind of anxiety that may not be experienced in the communities Lave and Wenger observed in their original research.

Jewson’s reading of the communities of practice theory leads him to an interesting formulation for the context of advanced Capitalist societies: ‘Indeed members of communities of practice may define their participation as that of a consumer, participating by choice, on a temporary basis, as long as their interests are served’ (p. 79). The student as customer model is increasingly common in H.E. in the UK, and was an inevitable consequence of the introduction of tuition fees in the late 90s. A shift in the economics of H.E. has effected a shift in the perception of power relations in H.E., with the student as customer demanding higher levels of service, and expecting good outcomes, a return on their investment.

However, the student as customer model is problematic. If a product is purchased and fails to perform, the customer can seek redress. But, to take an example, if the customer hires a personal fitness trainer but fails to undertake the programme of exercise they are given, they are at fault. H.E. is the fitness trainer model, but the student as customer model does not recognise this complexity (Lord Mandelson insisted on referring to the student as customer when I saw him speak at the Dearing conference earlier this year).

Combining the communities of practice model with the student as customer model leads to the new entrant not accepting their peripherality wholeheartedly but expecting the community to morph to their needs. Meanwhile, the community insists on conformity, measured through regular assessment. The student does not have the security of knowing they will remain in the community, yet expects the community to serve them. There is no clear sign that these structural anxieties of studenthood in the twenty-first century have been recognised fully.

References

Jewson, N. (2007) ‘Cultivating network analysis: rethinking the concept of “community” within ‘communities of practice’ in Hughes, J., Jewson, N. and Unwin, L., Communities of Practice: critical perspectives, Abingdon, Routledge.

Lave, J. and Wenger, E. (1991) Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

Reflections on an EdD study week-end

The highlights: meeting my supervisor, anticipating the highs and lows ahead, wondering whether having been a research student in the 90s will comprise an advantage, concluding that it probably won’t.

 A really good conversation with one of the OU people about what ‘democratic values’ means in the context of ethical research. A parliamentary democracy can invade an oil-rich nation. A parliamentary democracy can land commandos on a ship carrying aid. If I practise comparably aggressive methods in my research, am I being ethical? If not, why not? It seems to me that democratic values can mean whatever the powerful want them to mean.

 Getting a really interesting book on Communities of Practice, critically challenging the whole idea. It may shake or cement my views; either is good.

 The less than highlights: not being a natural networker, keeping that frozen smile on hold was a big ask.

 Eating way way too much. Henceforth I will be known as Sir Loin of Pork.

 Rushing back on Sunday to see England play Germany. Call me old-fashioned, but I think it’s best to have a defence, midfield and attack, rather than 11 clueless Herberts running randomly and pointing a lot.

 The security guy at the library who wouldn’t let me in at 11:57 because the library doesn’t open til 12. No further comment needed.

 And next – sorting out my research methods. What do I do, apart from conduct interviews? I don’t want to add another level of data gathering just for the sake of doing it. But there may be a gap between how people tell me they use technologies for learning, and how they actually use them. That gap seems big right now.

 Overall – very glad I met my supervisor (Daisy) and spent several hours discussing the research with her. Very glad I attended the workshop on transcribing interviews (her suggestion). Very glad I met a very nice Labrador on the way to the library.

 Could the event have been half a day shorter? Maybe, but churls like me never wholly enter the spirit of these things.

 Final thought. The perennial anxiety of research as an isolating experience. That’s the best bit. Some of us were medieval monks in a previous life. Probably.

Students supporting students

A SEDA research paper, Students supporting Students, shows that Student Mentoring has its roots in the early 70s in the USA, under the umbrella term ‘Supplemental Instruction,’ with experienced students providing support to fellow learners. Maybe the scheme emerged in the US because the funding model is different, and it has been more conventional to think of learners themselves as a resource. Such a mindset is relatively recent in the UK, with Thorpe (2002) arguing that learners are a valuable resource in online interaction.

More broadly, with central government support for HE in the UK shrinking, students supporting students may well be an idea whose time has come.

Student to student support offers something new in the sense that it provides a means for students to access support, when they fear that seeking support from lecturers will make them look stupid. A simple example being, the lecturer asks ‘Did everyone understand that?’ and the student knows better than to say ‘No’ and risk the wrath of their peer group. Therefore, students supporting students can offer enhanced support to learners.

H.E.I.s are going to be attracted to student mentoring as a low cost enhancement of their existing support mechanisms. Furthermore, for the students who volunteer it is an addition to their generic and transferable (and hence employability) skills, as they develop their own facilities with communication and team working. The low-cost of student mentoring betrays the presence of an economic driver, but it doesn’t follow therefrom that student mentoring is a bad idea. Instead, a tighter financial climate can prompt more innovation. This is not a case for further financial constraints in H.E. (there’s already enough), but an example of how to manage austerity, rather than throw one’s toys out of the pram.

A student has a problem, approaches an appointed, more experienced student and the problem can get solved. An easy win for everyone.

Reference
Thorpe, M. (2002), ‘Rethinking Learner Support: the challenge of collaborative online learning,’ Open Learning, vol. 17, no. 2, pp. 105-119.