Self-critique of my DML Ignite: “Productively Lost” talk (video!)

April 22nd, 2012

The video of my DML 2012 lightning talk is up! My blog post transcript is not quite accurate, but it’s close enough, and the message is the same.

Looking back at it with a more critical eye — wow, I’m nervous, and it shows in the stumbles. Not the smoothest talk I’ve ever given (in fact, I remember shaking as I walked off the stage). I talk fast, but I’m understandable and relatively clear, which isn’t too bad — and there are audience reactions (which I remember with gratitude).

All in all, considering that I was running on close to no sleep fresh off a practically-overnight flight to San Fransisco while converting this talk from a 2-person one to a solo one on the plane, it wasn’t bad. (Sebastian was originally a co-presenter, but we hit SIGCSE so exhausted we decided he’d take the brunt of SIGCSE so I could breathe enough to do DML while he went back early to rest). Redoing an Ignite talk is tougher than a normal talk – it’s 5 minutes, slides auto-advance every 15 seconds – so you need to get your timing down. I was running this constantly on the plane, on the taxi… the video makes the slides look more out of sync to my talking than they actually are (the slides I’m actually talking about are a few seconds behind the video).

Need to get more of my talks recorded so I can do more comprehensive post-mortems of what I need to work on. Right now, I know timing, pacing, and fluidity of movement — I’m energetic and that shows, but I use the same movements and gestures again and again, and while I move across the stage, I don’t own it with the quiet confidence really good speakers have.

I’ll practice more.

on not knowing what the hell I’m doing despite appearances to the contrary

April 17th, 2012

When I started getting involved with FOSS, I was a naive and sheltered student who hadn’t really seen or done much in the world, and saw the people in the first communities I joined as just… the coolest people ever. They flew all over the world for speaking engagements! They did crazy hackathons and boldly jumped into new things! They cooked ethnic food I’d never seen at big dinner parties in their apartments in the city with people I’d read about on the internet but never dreamed of meeting, they were all grown-up and in their mid-twenties and totally had life figured out. Right?

Fast forward. I’m 25 now, still doing FOSS stuff, flying all over the world for speaking engagements, doing crazy hackathons, boldly jumping into new things, cooking ethnic food at dinner parties in my apartment in the city with people from the intarwebz. I grew up to become one of the people that my younger self idolized, and now students come up to me and ask how I’ve done all this amazing stuff, and say they wish they could have so much of their lives figured out, and I have a weird disconnected moment because I have no freaking idea what I’m doing. I am making it all up. And I think: “good grief, is that what they were doing?”

Now those people are in their early thirties, maybe finishing grad school and starting professorships, maybe getting married and starting families, maybe starting companies, maybe making big waves in their field. And I look ahead and think: how will I ever be ready for that? And I look at myself now and think: I am where they were at this age – maybe I can grow up to be that awesome. And I look behind and think that when I was younger, I thought that people like my current self were grown up already. And then I buckle down and work harder! because… what else can I do?

I still feel awkward growing into “the middle” — no longer clearly an neophyte in all things, caught somewhere between journeyman and apprentice. Actually, that’s selling myself short — I’m clearly a journeyman for some things (facilitating open source communities) and an apprentice for others (scholarly research), but it’s at least comforting that I’m not a master in anything yet. That would just be… far too scary. I can’t admit that possibility yet; I don’t have a clear picture of what I want to grow into.

Or I do, and I don’t want to admit what that picture looks like because it might get laughed at; sometimes the world is awfully good at squashing dreams down, especially if you’re an ambitious <insert any of a number of categories I fit into>.

I need to get myself into a mental space where I can do things again, so I’ll steer into ending on this note:  you’re never really ready for the world, but that means you’re about as ready as you’re going to get, so you might as well go out and get it.

Hooyah.

Does assistive technology make you more independent, or less?

April 17th, 2012

One thing I’ve always known is that I want to have the biggest world possible to grow into exploring –which relates a lot to my hearing, since not being able to do that is something that’s typically seen as making your world smaller than most. Disabilities are supposed to “disable” you; I used to refute that with a clear-cut anger (clear-cut anger is easy when you’re a teenager) and tell the world I didn’t need any of its help, and that worked for a while, but now the picture is more complex, because in addition to developmental theory and curriculum design and the history of American engineering education, I’ve also been learning a lot about how small a world I’ve drawn myself into through insisting on absolute independence and no hearing assistance, ever.

I thought my coping-with-audio skills were great. Okay, I needed to feed More Brainpower to the processor, but… I had extra cycles to spare, right? Smart. Tons of energy. That’s all I needed to pay the deafness tax.

Yeah, no. What I actually have are “coping-by-avoiding-audio” skills. I am the one who cuts myself off from the world. Reading books instead of listening to lectures, having conversations online instead of in-person… it worked in a small 300-person school, it worked when I was a software engineer working on distributed teams, it works when I stay away from people. Academia… has people. Talks. Hallways. Conversations you’re thrust into out of context. Business does, too; meetings that aren’t always transcribed, phone calls I can’t keep up with… and once again, I can’t get out there — I’m in the back, I’m on the sidelines. And it’s frustrating, because I’ve been in non-audio versions of the same situations and kicked ass, so I know it’s not a lack of intelligence or ability on my part (as I assumed before), and I know I could contribute if I could only understand, and… why can’t I understand?

Oh, yeah. I can’t hear.

So what do I do? I don’t want to be frustrated like this forever. I can stay in a small world; teach at an online university, at a small school with tiny class sizes, avoid seminars, stay in a tiny circle of people I already know at conferences (good grief, how many of my social interactions have been slow and shy because they’re just so hard?) and… cope. Be normal in a smaller world? That’s not satisfying. (Case in point: dear 14-year-old me, being afraid that something terrible will happen to a kid because you can’t hear them crying is not a good reason to swear you’ll never have them; there are plenty of good reasons not to have children, and maybe you do have others, but that is not one of them.)

So I’m figuring out this whole thing with hearing aids, and transcribing, and maybe interpreting, and relying on external equipment and services that can always not-work. This was made painfully clear to me in class this afternoon when my microphone for CART threw a tantrum for the first hour and I had to choose between struggling to fix the mic and definitely missing the presentation, or giving up on CART and struggling to lipread the presentation. (I missed the presentation and fixed the microphone, but I now have no idea what Farrah’s paper was on. I’ll ask her later.) Do I want to assume my “helper” things will work, plot my ability to participate and my level of performance based on them working, and then take the risk of falling short if they don’t, or is that a dumb way of getting your hopes up?

Is your world bigger and more full of possibilities if you find ways to go all places your way, on your own effort, even if it means it’s terrifically hard and exhausting and you’ll never experience those places in the same way as other people? Or is it bigger if you allow other people and things to help you, to take advantage of assistive technology, knowing that it’ll bring you to places in a fuller way where you can use more of your own energy to Do Things instead of Struggle To Hear, but also knowing that you’ll be stranded if it fails?

From Sage on the Stage to Guide on the Side – a first peek

April 15th, 2012

Whooooo. We just submitted our draft paper to Frontiers in Education 2012. Here’s the abstract of “Work in Progress – From Sage on the Stage to Guide on the Side: Creating an open compendium of teaching transformation stories,” which is licensed CC-BY-NC unlike the rest of the content on this site. I’m not thrilled with the noncommercial clause because it doesn’t allow truly free use, but we’re slowly learning how to work the copyright-in-academia game.

After I get some sleep and figure out better ideas for file hosting (upload everything to github?) than my exhausted brain can right now, I’ll put the rest of the stuff up now that Sebastian and I have submitted the Author’s Addendum that insists that we keep the ability to offer this CC-BY-NC. We also need to make the open data much easier to access. Eventually I’d like to come up with an Author’s Addendum that lets us do CC-BY or CC-BY-SA. Lots of bugs to fix. But I digress, and here’s the abstract, and I’m going to bed.

Many professors are reluctant to transform their teaching practices from “sage on the stage” to “guide on the side” for understandable reasons. Facilitating student work in a potentially unfamiliar setting has a steep learning curve and requires professors to relinquish control of their classrooms without assurance their career evaluations will benefit. However, professors who do transform their teaching practices continue to report exactly the same concerns – so how does the shift happen? This work-in-progress paper describes early efforts to address this question through interviews with professors who have involved their classes in open communities, which require such a shift in teaching practices for successful student participation. We have also adopted a “radically transparent research” approach for this project, inspired by the radical realtime transparency practices of the open communities our interviewees work with. This results in public and collaboratively constructed artifacts with the potential to broaden awareness of and participation in engineering education research, while creating a compendium of teaching transformation stories that can be shared with other professors considering similar transformations to their own teaching practices.

How to assign copyright to your interviewees

April 15th, 2012

I’ve gotten some people asking how I assigned the copyright to my interviewees for radically transparent research. Since it’s often not clear who owns the copyright to a research transcript by default, assigning licenses (open or otherwise) to content is nigh-  impossible until you untangle that, so it’s a vital first step in the radically transparent research process. It’s pretty simple, though; I want to run this by Purdue’s copyright lawyer, but here’s what I have right now, in please-steal-me template format. Usage should be obvious. We sent this out to subjects via email, directly in the email text, but you can do whatever you like.

INTERVIEWER: <put your name here>
INTERVIEWEE: <put their name here>
DATE: <fill this in>
LOCATION: <fill this in>

INTERVIEWER hereby irrevocably transfers and assigns to INTERVIEWEE in perpetuity, all right (whether now known or hereinafter invented), title, and interest, throughout the world, including any copyrights and renewals or extensions thereto, in the attached transcript of the interview recorded between us on DATE in LOCATION.

If you want something more for your email so it’s not all legalese, you can add…

That should do it. You now own the copyright to this; we don’t. It’s all your call what to edit, what to do, how to license it, and so forth. Let us know what you’d like to do with it.

  • If you want to leave your name in or not
  • If you want to leave the names of other people/institutions in and identifiable or not
  • If you want to cut parts of it or not
  • If you’d like to put this in the public domain, license it CC-BY, CC-BY-SA, or something else
  • If you’d like to host the file somewhere or if you’d like us to do the uploading/hosting/etc for you
  • If you want to scrap this transcript entirely and pretend the interview never happened :)

If we can figure out what you want to be released under what license by the end of DATE, that would be awesome — that gives us time to DO ACTION. Happy to do a call/visit/something if it would help!

Then sign it, ship it, and make sure you keep a (digital or physical) copy for your own records. That’s it. Note that this doesn’t get you out of going through your friendly local IRB if you’re doing human subjects research — but it certainly helps to have this as an artifact when you’re explaining the process to them!

cognitive apprenticeship case studies in software engineering

April 12th, 2012

Reading about cognitive apprenticeships brings up all sorts of fun moments. For instance, the ideal way to design an apprenticeship experience is to have students do global tasks early on, then local tasks later. Do something that lets them see the big picture (assemble a whole dress) first before focusing on detailed parts (cut out a piece for a dress).

(Explaining the global-to-local progression of tasks given to tailor’s apprentices) “Reversing production steps has the effect of focusing the apprentices’ attention first on the broad outlines of garment construction as they handle garments while attaching buttons and hemming cuffs. Next, sewing turns their attention to the logic (order, orientation) by which different pieces are sewn together, which in turn explains why they are cut out as they are. Each step offers the unstated opportunity to consider how the previous step contributes to the present one. In addition, this ordering minimizes experiences of failure and especially of serious failure.” –Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation by Lave and Wenger, p. 72

And I think: huh, that has some implications for computing education.

  1. high level languages (python) first, instead of low-level (assembly, C)
  2. teach release engineering first, instead of programming
  3. wow, all sorts of stuff seems backwards now.

Sebastian and I make an interesting comparison of case studies. We’re both largely informally taught in software engineering (we’ve had a couple classes by now, but still — I’d say the bulk of our knowledge comes from outside-school) but had opposite sorts of informal educations in software engineering.

When I was 15, I started by learning C/C++ programming; I started small and low-level, and gradually climbed bigger and bigger and higher and higher in abstraction. I’ve never quite gotten the hang of putting together large and complex software projects; I still think in tiny pieces of code. I struggle to see outside the little box I first learned in. Then again, I didn’t realize I would go down the route of “software” as a field when I was younger — computers were a fun thing to play with, but I thought I was going to be an art major.

In contrast, when Sebastian was 15, he started as a release engineer, putting together Linux distributions; if that’s not a giant, complex, and high level project, I don’t know what is. When we first met, I could code circles around him. I think I might still be able to today, but the gap is definitely closing — in any case, he started high-level and with a global scope, then worked his way down through Python, into C, into embedded developent with microprocessors, and… seems totally fine. If you compare our 18-year-old selves in terms of “ready to be hired as a full-time software engineer without going through college,” he wins hands-down.

Looking back on this, I think I’d have liked to learn software engineering release-engineering-first, but that’s not an activity I would have recognized as “software engineering” when I started (“it’s not writing code! but software engineering is all about writing new code!”) — which goes to show you how much about software engineering I actually knew in high school.

2 more weeks until the end of term

April 12th, 2012
I have not written for a while. I should remember more often that blogging — or writing what I think, in any case — helps me remember who I am. My sort of meditation.
I’m writing this from one of the meeting rooms, which we’ve taken over on this Friday night for end-of-semester work. Nikitha and Cindy and Dan are here chugging on their papers; I’m working on mine. Velvet is in the office nearby and Tosin also swung by when food appeared.

I brought food. I cooked too much and instead of eating it myself for days I texted people and found out they were all here and so I brought it over. It feels good to cook for people and to eat with people, and I’m getting a reputation as a cook around here now… it’s burrito bowls, so there’s chopped lettuce, cilantro rice, diced tomatoes, yogurt (instead of sour cream), homemade tomatillo salsa, and microwave madras lentils because the beans took too long to cook. And spicy chicken. It was a hit.

I have my headphones on now and I’m cranking through the Allan Collins paper on cognitive apprenticeships and it’s no easier than it was before but I’m not alone. And I guess it’s… something I don’t know how to reproduce, and I don’t really know people here yet, but it’s in spending extended hanging-out time with them that you get to do that, right? Maybe some of these will turn into friendships. I certainly think they’re all incredible people. I just need to stay here instead of always trying to go away. I don’t quite want to stay here yet, but I want to want to stay here; there’s a lot of good here, but it’s just that it’s not home.

Maybe that’s the blessing and the curse of being a bridger. You’re always caught in between, but that constant feeling of tension and not-being-home-yet drives you to bring your places together. A blessing to everyone else, a curse to you, a blessing to you to be the one changing the world in such a way. We only really change the world when it hurts us the way it is now, though — so the people who are changemakers are, I think, in many cases the ones who know what hurting feels like.

I should get back to writing this paper. I don’t really know what I’m saying or typing any more and at some point I’ll take my headphones off and listen to the conversations in the world around me. It’s hard, learning to be here! The world is incoherent and overwhelming sometimes and makes you feel things. It’s easier to be in my own universe or in one I can tightly control, especially now when I’ve had the terrifying revelation that I can become suddenly fragile. I’m not really used to being a person yet.

It was like something Tosin was explaining to me tonight – disjointedness as a driver for change. Growth is uncomfortable. It comes when you realize your current coping mechanisms aren’t sufficient to do what you want to do, but you need to keep yourself there to get past it. (She explained it in way more subtle detail; there are entire theories and papers and books and dissertations about this stuff — transformation theory, change theory, activity theory… but I’m simplifying because I haven’t read those papers and because it’s 11pm and I still have 2 books to read tonight.)
But now we have migrated to a coffeeshop and I have a sweet matcha latte that I’m sipping and the book is by my side and I can do it. Cindy’s reading another book by the same author in the overstuffed leather chair across from me. And so… back I go again. Stay in the disjointedness and learn new things.

In California, where the grass is greener

April 6th, 2012

Spent the past two days in California hacking on sparklab with Jason, Eugene, Diane, Prat, Aaron, and Kathayoon, who quickly embraced me as one of the crew. It’s been wonderful spending the past two days getting to know them, the team dynamics, the project, feeling out where I fit in — and I’m very much looking forward to spending nearly 2 weeks here hacking with them again in May. I’ll write more about this here when I can; right now I’m mocking up the new project site (as of this writing, that link goes to a terrible kludge with no visual design whatsoever) in preparation for our Big Road Trip Announcement and figuring out exactly what’s going to be involved on each tour stop (how much do we need to budget in materials costs, how much in gas, what sorts of contacts and people and arrangements do we need in each location beforehand, etc?) so there’s no shortage of things to do.

My other projects and conversations are fantastic as well. The conversation on Eucalyptus values made me laugh out loud, as did Jacinta Richardson’s posting of the rules of optimization to the C Programming course run on the Linuxchix list. And the Craft of Electronics crew continues to grow with people I am very much looking forward to meeting in person in Kentucky in a few months.

It occurs to me that I’m on teams and building projects and relationships everywhere except the place I live. That seems to be a pattern. Trying to work on that one, too. I’m not… very good at building a home base where I am; the grass always looks greener other places, I suppose. It’s something I need to think about a little more.

Craft of Electronics: team operating principles

April 3rd, 2012

Matt, Sebastian, Jan, Danny, myself, and a growing cast of characters from Berea College are working on (the) Craft of Electronics, a curriculum for “college-level electronics in a craft-first (and theory-sometime-later) format, through learning from, participating in, and contributing to the open hardware movement.” We decided that “we’re going to do it in the open from Day 0. Everything’s going to be open hardware, open source, open content, and done the open source way.”

This morning, Matt wrote an email (largely for Danny, a Berea student who is new to open source — but really for us all as reminders) explaining what “the open source way” meant in this context. It is one of the best “how to get started in this project practicing the open source way” explanations geared towards students I’ve ever seen, so I am simply quoting it below (but you should go read it in full).

The below is from Matt Jadud’s email to the Craft of Electronics mailing list.

1. BE BOLD.

As we discuss and begin development of material, do not be afraid to contribute. Do not continually ask for permission to suggest things, edit things, or throw things out. We will typically work with systems that automatically preserve the complete history of what we are doing, so that we can all be bold in making changes to our own and others’ work. Anything that doesn’t work well can always be reverted — and, hence, no change has even the remotest chance of being “damaging.”

Likewise, you are a full peer in this dialog (as are we all)… My point being: don’t hesitate to join in. It does not matter what you do or do not know; it does matter if you are silent, and that isn’t what we’re looking for. We’re currently just brainstorming and exploring as a lead-up to the summer work, and you should chime in anywhere and everywhere you think is relevant.

2. TOSW

Actually, I’ve just encapsulated most of The Open Source Way: http://opensource.com/open-source-way

  1. We believe in an open exchange.
  2. We believe in the power of participation.
  3. We believe in rapid prototyping.
  4. We believe in meritocracy.
  5. We believe in community.

See the link, and that sums things up. I’ll stop blathering. Ah. One other.

3. RELEASE EARLY, RELEASE OFTEN

We’re going to be working in the open on this project. That means we’ll be discussing ideas before they’re “fully baked,” and the intent is that we will generate a better final product by sharing our thinking and work at every stage of development (as opposed to waiting until it is “finished.”) In fact, the explicit acknowledgement of this model is that nothing is every done, it is just due. We won’t be “done” with this course by September, nor will we be “done” with it in December. It will simply be due by September, and we have to deliver it and evaluate it over the coming term. Then, revision happens.

So, we release our work early (even if it is partial), and we release it often (or, continuously, if it is open). Hence, while we may debate things with vigor, and triage ideas like they’re going out of style, we know that whatever we come up with is just another step.

To summarize

These principles are typically different than any coursework you’ve done in the past. Dive in, contribute, and help us make this excellent. Likewise, the openness in this process means that anyone can join in the discussion and contribute. If you have classmates that you think would like to be part of the conversation, they should feel free to join, to whatever level they feel is appropriate.

I think that’s enough for now. When I have infinite time, I’ll turn this into a page on the website. In the meantime, it’s fine here, and we can point to it in the discussion archive for any other people who join us.

The mailing list is already home to some vigorous discussion about materials, learning objectives, and the like. If you’re interested in electronics education and how to transfer thinking about craft and learning techniques from the hacker movement into the formal academic space at the undergraduate level, please come join us – we would love company.

we cannot make the best of what we are if our hearts are always divided

April 2nd, 2012

I don’t know how this works.

“One who is content in what he has, and who accepts the fact that he inevitably misses very much in life, is far better off than one who has much more but who worries about all he may be missing. For we cannot make the best of what we are if our hearts are always divided between what we are and what we are not.” –Thomas Merton

My heart is always thus divided. But it is precisely the struggle to make the best of what I am and what I can be that divides it, that discontent that makes me struggle. So… what do you do then?