Archive by Author

CHATting about Triangles and Representations

This week I’ve been organizing a poster presentation on the use of Cultural Historical Activity Theory (CHAT) as a lens for thinking about privilege, power, and legitimate participation in high school science. Even though the theory has its detractors, many (Anthony & Clark, 2011Roth & Lee, 2007; Trust, 2015Yamagata-Lynch, 2007;)(including myself) have found CHAT to be particularly useful for considering systemic problems (or “tensions” as they’re commonly referred) that (1) inhibit the accomplishment of certain goals (e.g., successful implementation of a one-to-one laptop program) within a social organization (e.g., a school), and (2) end up advantaging certain points of view, ways of behaving, or cultural backgrounds over others. Obviously, any theory or tool that can be used to help researchers, scholars, or practitioners understand problems of practice, especially when they relate to issues of equity, is a good thing to have, but I’ve found that I often have a hard time getting started with a CHAT because the concept of “activity” is a slippery one to define.

Technically, “activity” refers to any kind of goal-motivated behavior. This is different, however, from what we might call a “task” because, as it’s been theorized, an activity, unlike a task, takes place with a social context. And context matters. Consider the task of getting dressed. This task has a very different meaning depending on when and where it’s done – telling someone that you got dressed in your own room in the morning might earn you a totally different reaction from telling them that you got dressed in a stranger’s house or a public place in broad daylight. It’s the context that makes this task seem common and mundane, or strange and embarrassing. (Really, in a way, this means that all tasks are activities, because when is a task not contextualized? But I digress…)

“Context” is also a slippery term, because it can include pretty much anything. Socioculturalists might say that context is made up of everything that exists in a place in the moment, as well as everything that led up to that stuff being there for that moment – the history of the physical objects, the cultural values that give those objects meaning, the arrangement of objects and people in the setting… each of these things matters in how one decides to use a tool and for what purpose, as well as how one’s behavior gets interpreted.

All of these nebulous characteristics of the activity context intersect and interact with each other, and together, they make up the activity “system.” Without getting to deep into the theory of it all, one of the advantages of CHAT is that it gives us a way to divvy these characteristics into six categories: subjects (the individual or group performing the task), the object (the goal of doing the task), mediating artifacts (the tools that are used to achieve the goal), rules (normative or expected ways of doing the task), community (the large social arrangement/organization in which the task is being performed), and the division of labor (the roles of the people/groups within the larger social organization for accomplishing the task). Now, I don’t know about you, but at this point, my head starts to swim with all of these terms and trying to figure out who is doing what and why and with whomever and with what tools and where did those tools come from, anyway? This is when I take out a pen and paper and start trying to draw things that can help me visualize what my brain is trying to keep track of. Luckily, CHAT has this canonical representation that it seems pretty much everyone who talks about activity theory uses, and it looks like this:

CHATting about Triangles and Representations

Cultural Historical Activity Theory

Look at all those triangles! What’s lovely about this representation is that it gives the impression that everything here is interconnected. And that’s the point. Don’t you just love it when simple graphics can convey complex ideas? Yay CHAT. Go team!

So that’s all good and awesome, until you start trying to think about what constitutes an activity. Where did the activity begin? Where did it end? Depending on the grain size of the activity, the various nodes might look completely different. This is very problematic when trying to consider complex activities like implementing a curricular intervention or a district-wide technology initiative. Each of these long term activities is made up of possibly infinite, but meaningful, activities (Lisa Yamagata-Lynch wrote a fantastic piece that addresses these same dilemmas).

In my dissertation, I used CHAT to look at the different ways in which students used technology in a one-to-one laptop classroom, and early on in my analysis, I found myself drowning in a pile of papers with little triangles sketched on them. My problem is that I was trying to figure out how to capture the essence of an activity when it wasn’t explicitly demarcated for me. An activity could be as long as a subject unit, or as brief as recording a single phrase of text from a lecture slide. It was up to me to decide how each of these activities were significant, and which ones related to my research questions. It’s part of that subjective research experience that gives us qualitative researchers limited street cred among our quantitative, objectivist, and positivist colleagues. But that’s another story all together…

Okay, we’re still not done. I said something earlier about CHAT being useful for looking at systemic problems or “tensions.” Let’s get back to that now.

So, the idea is that once we’ve charted all of the constituent “nodes” of the CHAT triangle for a given activity, we can go about examining how elements of these nodes interact with each other in ways that either help the subject achieve the goals of the activity, or inhibit it. For instance, let’s say you (subject) want to use the Internet (mediating artifact) to help you look up the score of a basketball game (object), but you don’t have access to the Internet. We might represent that as a tension between the mediating artifact (Internet) and object (looking up a basketball score). Or let’s say you’re a teacher (subject) and you want to learn about a new software tool (mediating artifact) that you might think would be particularly helpful for a certain lesson you are trying to teach (object), but there’s no one at your school, like a technology integration specialist, who can help you learn about or implement that software into your lesson planning (division of labor). We could represent that as a tension between the division of labor and object of the triangle. To my knowledge, there isn’t a single convention that is used to represent tensions on the CHAT triangle, but some common examples include placing an “x” or lightning bolts along the side of the triangle where the tension exists.

Now, these are relatively simple examples of tensions, so you might already be thinking, “What about more complex problems, such as a tension between rules and division of labor? Or tensions that emerge between interacting activity systems? How can we represent these?” That’s a good question, and it’s where I find myself now. The problem I am having at the moment is coming up with a way that gives credence to how the various elements of activity systems mediate each other, but also provides an elegant way of showing how a tension impacts the object of activity, as well as introduces the concept of “legitimate participation” (Lave & Wenger famously coined the term “legitimate peripheral participation” to describe how individuals are inducted into communities of practice) I feel like much of what has been done to date to represent complex tensions doesn’t adequately (or at least cleanly) show these in, say, the way a line graph can show how the amount of something increases and decreases over time. In preserving the sticky image of triangles, what I’ve been playing with is something like this:

CHATting about Triangles and Representations

A new representation of CHAT?

What this does for me, is highlight the centrality of issues around “legitimacy” in activities, as something that is influenced (or even governed by?) the relationship of one’s participation to the privileged norms of behavior (rules), roles (division of labor), and use of tools (mediating artifacts) of a social group (community). I’m not convinced that this does any better job of achieving that than the standard CHAT triangle. But if anyone out there has any ideas, I’m all ears (and triangles)!


CHATting about Triangles and Representations

This week I’ve been organizing a poster presentation on the use of Cultural Historical Activity Theory (CHAT) as a lens for thinking about privilege, power, and legitimate participation in high school science. Even though the theory has its detractors, many (Anthony & Clark, 2011Roth & Lee, 2007; Trust, 2015Yamagata-Lynch, 2007;)(including myself) have found CHAT to be particularly useful for considering systemic problems (or “tensions” as they’re commonly referred) that (1) inhibit the accomplishment of certain goals (e.g., successful implementation of a one-to-one laptop program) within a social organization (e.g., a school), and (2) end up advantaging certain points of view, ways of behaving, or cultural backgrounds over others. Obviously, any theory or tool that can be used to help researchers, scholars, or practitioners understand problems of practice, especially when they relate to issues of equity, is a good thing to have, but I’ve found that I often have a hard time getting started with a CHAT because the concept of “activity” is a slippery one to define.

Technically, “activity” refers to any kind of goal-motivated behavior. This is different, however, from what we might call a “task” because, as it’s been theorized, an activity, unlike a task, takes place with a social context. And context matters. Consider the task of getting dressed. This task has a very different meaning depending on when and where it’s done – telling someone that you got dressed in your own room in the morning might earn you a totally different reaction from telling them that you got dressed in a stranger’s house or a public place in broad daylight. It’s the context that makes this task seem common and mundane, or strange and embarrassing. (Really, in a way, this means that all tasks are activities, because when is a task not contextualized? But I digress…)

“Context” is also a slippery term, because it can include pretty much anything. Socioculturalists might say that context is made up of everything that exists in a place in the moment, as well as everything that led up to that stuff being there for that moment – the history of the physical objects, the cultural values that give those objects meaning, the arrangement of objects and people in the setting… each of these things matters in how one decides to use a tool and for what purpose, as well as how one’s behavior gets interpreted.

All of these nebulous characteristics of the activity context intersect and interact with each other, and together, they make up the activity “system.” Without getting to deep into the theory of it all, one of the advantages of CHAT is that it gives us a way to divvy these characteristics into six categories: subjects (the individual or group performing the task), the object (the goal of doing the task), mediating artifacts (the tools that are used to achieve the goal), rules (normative or expected ways of doing the task), community (the large social arrangement/organization in which the task is being performed), and the division of labor (the roles of the people/groups within the larger social organization for accomplishing the task). Now, I don’t know about you, but at this point, my head starts to swim with all of these terms and trying to figure out who is doing what and why and with whomever and with what tools and where did those tools come from, anyway? This is when I take out a pen and paper and start trying to draw things that can help me visualize what my brain is trying to keep track of. Luckily, CHAT has this canonical representation that it seems pretty much everyone who talks about activity theory uses, and it looks like this:

CHATting about Triangles and Representations

Cultural Historical Activity Theory

Look at all those triangles! What’s lovely about this representation is that it gives the impression that everything here is interconnected. And that’s the point. Don’t you just love it when simple graphics can convey complex ideas? Yay CHAT. Go team!

So that’s all good and awesome, until you start trying to think about what constitutes an activity. Where did the activity begin? Where did it end? Depending on the grain size of the activity, the various nodes might look completely different. This is very problematic when trying to consider complex activities like implementing a curricular intervention or a district-wide technology initiative. Each of these long term activities is made up of possibly infinite, but meaningful, activities (Lisa Yamagata-Lynch wrote a fantastic piece that addresses these same dilemmas).

In my dissertation, I used CHAT to look at the different ways in which students used technology in a one-to-one laptop classroom, and early on in my analysis, I found myself drowning in a pile of papers with little triangles sketched on them. My problem is that I was trying to figure out how to capture the essence of an activity when it wasn’t explicitly demarcated for me. An activity could be as long as a subject unit, or as brief as recording a single phrase of text from a lecture slide. It was up to me to decide how each of these activities were significant, and which ones related to my research questions. It’s part of that subjective research experience that gives us qualitative researchers limited street cred among our quantitative, objectivist, and positivist colleagues. But that’s another story all together…

Okay, we’re still not done. I said something earlier about CHAT being useful for looking at systemic problems or “tensions.” Let’s get back to that now.

So, the idea is that once we’ve charted all of the constituent “nodes” of the CHAT triangle for a given activity, we can go about examining how elements of these nodes interact with each other in ways that either help the subject achieve the goals of the activity, or inhibit it. For instance, let’s say you (subject) want to use the Internet (mediating artifact) to help you look up the score of a basketball game (object), but you don’t have access to the Internet. We might represent that as a tension between the mediating artifact (Internet) and object (looking up a basketball score). Or let’s say you’re a teacher (subject) and you want to learn about a new software tool (mediating artifact) that you might think would be particularly helpful for a certain lesson you are trying to teach (object), but there’s no one at your school, like a technology integration specialist, who can help you learn about or implement that software into your lesson planning (division of labor). We could represent that as a tension between the division of labor and object of the triangle. To my knowledge, there isn’t a single convention that is used to represent tensions on the CHAT triangle, but some common examples include placing an “x” or lightning bolts along the side of the triangle where the tension exists.

Now, these are relatively simple examples of tensions, so you might already be thinking, “What about more complex problems, such as a tension between rules and division of labor? Or tensions that emerge between interacting activity systems? How can we represent these?” That’s a good question, and it’s where I find myself now. The problem I am having at the moment is coming up with a way that gives credence to how the various elements of activity systems mediate each other, but also provides an elegant way of showing how a tension impacts the object of activity, as well as introduces the concept of “legitimate participation” (Lave & Wenger famously coined the term “legitimate peripheral participation” to describe how individuals are inducted into communities of practice) I feel like much of what has been done to date to represent complex tensions doesn’t adequately (or at least cleanly) show these in, say, the way a line graph can show how the amount of something increases and decreases over time. In preserving the sticky image of triangles, what I’ve been playing with is something like this:

CHATting about Triangles and Representations

A new representation of CHAT?

What this does for me, is highlight the centrality of issues around “legitimacy” in activities, as something that is influenced (or even governed by?) the relationship of one’s participation to the privileged norms of behavior (rules), roles (division of labor), and use of tools (mediating artifacts) of a social group (community). I’m not convinced that this does any better job of achieving that than the standard CHAT triangle. But if anyone out there has any ideas, I’m all ears (and triangles)!


A Response to Godsey’s “Deconstructing the K-12 Teacher”

“Future School” by Jean Marc Cote

The Atlantic published an article by Michael Godsey this morning entitled “The Deconstruction of the K-12 Teacher” – a real pot-stirrer for those of us who find ourselves trying to square how all of this data-driven driven, venture-capital-funded, business of edtech startups fits into the ramshackle behemoth of government-mandated curriculum, publicly demonized unions, and enduring inequity that is the education system. The article discusses the changing nature of teaching in a brave new world of flipped classrooms, personalized-learning apps, and high-quality instructional resources that are being shared (and sold) online for anyone. The problem with all this technology and access, it seems, is that it “marginalize[s] the teacher’s expertise.” Godsey predicts that in the next 10 to 20 years (some colleagues of his suggest it’s more like half of that, or 5 to 10 years), the quality of and access to educational tools and resources online will be so high that it will essentially eradicate the need for a teaching profession as we know it today. If Godsey’s prediction is correct (which I don’t think it is), I see two incredible tragedies resulting from this “brave new world” as he calls it. First, it would mean the loss of what many consider to be one of the most humanizing and noble occupations in our society. And second, it would mean that decades of reform efforts would have failed miserably in destabilizing our oft-criticized “factory model” of education. The former would be a tragedy for obvious reasons. The latter, however, is more complicated today, precisely for the points Godsey addresses.

One thing we know about educational technology, from Khan Academy to MOOCs, is that they are very good at delivering content. And I think Godsey’s assumption is somewhat on point about this – in most of my experience as an academic technology specialist, it seems that technology integration, from elementary school to university, by-and-large revolves around helping teachers curate online resources and information for their students. And this is what he seems to think is the primary force at work in the “deconstruction” of teaching. Because there is so much high-quality material available online, why should schools pay teachers to do anything other than organize content, when they can pay a single expert to develop the materials? In the classroom, Godsey suggests, teaching will eventually be reduced to “facilitating the educational plans of massive organizations”, with the best content developers being whisked away to the private sector for presumably higher salaries than those of less expert classroom “facilitators.”
The reason why I don’t think this prediction will come true is because it presumes a fundamental driving force of education will continue to be the acquisition of content, and that a model of education based on knowledge acquisition will somehow improve learning outcomes across the board, eliminate longstanding social inequities in schools, make college more accessible for poor or disenfranchised populations of students, and all the while, reduce the cost of educating a growing population of children with individual learning needs. Such a model of education would not be sustainable, and I optimistically believe that, just as the hype around xMOOCs (which arguably, was also driven by an ideology of knowledge acquisition) has so swiftly quieted, it would quickly expose the limitations of a system built around the mere delivery of content. It would also mean reversing a growing trend and interest in theories of informal learning (such as Youth and Participatory Politics), connected learning, maker spaces, and learning as practice (such as the Next Generation Science Standards). As Godsey implores, we need local experts to organize these learning experiences for youth, not just hand over content resources. In fact, if anything, I predict that K-12 teaching will begin to resemble emerging changes in libraries, museums, and other informal settings – that is, knowing how to take advantage of digital resources to create meaningful experiences that engage youth in learning that is more holistic than simply sitting in front of a screen all day. I don’t think that the Internet will ever reduce the need for teachers. If anything, it is showing us that we need more teachers who can scaffold students into the new roles that are being created by digital education tools, can help students understand what it means to take up authority over their own learning, and can inspire students to become experts in their own domains of interest. I have yet to see anyone in Silicon Valley create an app for that.

A Response to Godsey’s “Deconstructing the K-12 Teacher”

A Response to Godsey’s “Deconstructing the K-12 Teacher”

“Future School” by Jean Marc Cote

The Atlantic published an article by Michael Godsey this morning entitled “The Deconstruction of the K-12 Teacher” – a real pot-stirrer for those of us who find ourselves trying to square how all of this data-driven driven, venture-capital-funded, business of edtech startups fits into the ramshackle behemoth of government-mandated curriculum, publicly demonized unions, and enduring inequity that is the education system. The article discusses the changing nature of teaching in a brave new world of flipped classrooms, personalized-learning apps, and high-quality instructional resources that are being shared (and sold) online for anyone. The problem with all this technology and access, it seems, is that it “marginalize[s] the teacher’s expertise.” Godsey predicts that in the next 10 to 20 years (some colleagues of his suggest it’s more like half of that, or 5 to 10 years), the quality of and access to educational tools and resources online will be so high that it will essentially eradicate the need for a teaching profession as we know it today. If Godsey’s prediction is correct (which I don’t think it is), I see two incredible tragedies resulting from this “brave new world” as he calls it. First, it would mean the loss of what many consider to be one of the most humanizing and noble occupations in our society. And second, it would mean that decades of reform efforts would have failed miserably in destabilizing our oft-criticized “factory model” of education. The former would be a tragedy for obvious reasons. The latter, however, is more complicated today, precisely for the points Godsey addresses.

One thing we know about educational technology, from Khan Academy to xMOOCs, is that they are very good at delivering content. And I think Godsey’s assumption is somewhat on point about this – in most of my experience as an academic technology specialist, it seems that technology integration, from elementary school to university, by-and-large revolves around helping teachers curate online resources and information for their students. And this is what he seems to think is the primary force at work in the “deconstruction” of teaching. Because there is so much high-quality material available online, why should schools pay teachers to do anything other than organize content, when they can pay a single expert to develop the materials? In the classroom, Godsey suggests, teaching will eventually be reduced to “facilitating the educational plans of massive organizations”, with the best content developers being whisked away to the private sector for presumably higher salaries than those of less expert classroom “facilitators.”
The reason why I don’t think this prediction will come true is because it presumes a fundamental driving force of education will continue to be the acquisition of content, and that a model of education based on knowledge acquisition will somehow improve learning outcomes across the board, eliminate longstanding social inequities in schools, make college more accessible for poor or disenfranchised populations of students, and all the while, reduce the cost of educating a growing population of children with individual learning needs. Such a model of education would not be sustainable, and I optimistically believe that, just as the hype around xMOOCs (which arguably, was also driven by an ideology of knowledge acquisition) has so swiftly quieted, it would quickly expose the limitations of a system built around the mere delivery of content. It would also mean reversing a growing trend and interest in theories of informal learning (such as Youth and Participatory Politics), connected learning, maker spaces, and learning as practice (such as the Next Generation Science Standards). As Godsey implores, we need local experts to organize these learning experiences for youth, not just hand over content resources. In fact, if anything, I predict that K-12 teaching will begin to resemble emerging changes in libraries, museums, and other informal settings – that is, knowing how to take advantage of digital resources to create meaningful experiences that engage youth in learning that is more holistic than simply sitting in front of a screen all day. I don’t think that the Internet will ever reduce the need for teachers. If anything, it is showing us that we need more teachers who can scaffold students into the new roles that are being created by digital education tools, can help students understand what it means to take up authority over their own learning, and can inspire students to become experts in their own domains of interest. I have yet to see anyone in Silicon Valley create an app for that.

Assignments and Accountability

I’ve just been reading Howard Rheingold‘s case study on the Connected Learning website on Jim Groom’s “DS106″ course, and was inspired to write down a couple of ideas. Coincidentally, one of the central elements to the success of the DS106 course (and Connected Courses in general) seems to be blogging – or maybe simply writing. Or maybe even more simply, producing materials/texts/ideas to share with the world – regardless if anyone is going to read it. I was particularly inspired to write down these thoughts when I got to Rheingold’s section on the “Assignment Bank” – a repository of various assignment types from which students could select to “[model] their learning for others.” What I found interesting about this wasn’t just that Groom had handed over logistic (and epistemic?) authority over to his students by letting them come up with their own assignments (and assignment genres), but the purpose of so doing was to encourage students to be accountable to their own learning, as well as to the larger learning community (i.e., the course). In my own teaching and research experience at the K-12 level, and perhaps even more so in higher ed, assignments seem to take on a weird role that straddles 1) the maintenance of a tradition of rigor (sometimes for rigor’s sake), and 2) getting more stuff “into the heads” of individuals (this is, presumably, important in formal educational contexts because of limited class periods – or in other words, limited access to “instruction”). But in the context of DS106, assignments seem at least to have a different, and arguably more impactful purpose. Assignments are meant to draw upon relevant themes and the production of digital artifacts, and additionally, to serve as content/material for exploring the ideas and concepts that are central to the course. It’s kind of meta, but it’s also an insanely awesome feedback loop, where the topics of the course are explored through student-produced artifacts. The success of the course as a learning experience is therefore dependent on the participation of those taking the course. In other words, the students are accountable for making the course what it is, and what it can be.

Stepping back a bit, it seems to me that one huge advantage of this is that the purpose of the assignment is to create and maintain two levels of accountability. Assignments that are interest-driven in this way are a vehicle for encouraging students (maybe we should just call them “participants”?) to be accountable for their own learning (i.e., they learn by participating in the creation of a digital artifact), as well as to be accountable to the knowledge community – their digital artifacts are, in a way, levers for collective knowledge construction. They support the group’s learning discourse. This seems particularly difficult to do in learning settings where all the decision making regarding assignments, assessments, and activities lie with a privileged authoritarian or institution. Just some thoughts…