🎧 Teachers and Social Media with Stewart Riddle (TER #128)

Listened TER #128 – Teachers and Social Media with Stewart Riddle – 17 Feb 2019 from TER Podcast

Dr Stewart Riddle discusses issues facing teachers engaging in social media, and questions the notion of who gets to speak on behalf of teachers.

Stewart Riddle talks about the collapse in dialogue online, especially in regards to solving social problems. He discusses the rise in educelebs, where the focus becomes on the individual, rather than the change at hand. See for example Darcy Moore’s discussion of the ‘cult of John Hattie‘. Riddle questions our understanding of how problematic being on Twitter can be. He discusses @RealPeerReview and the role that serves in fuelling mass criticism. Riddle is mindful of pointing out that this is not that experience of everyone and that there is still an eduTwitter focused on sharing practice and resources. Something captured by Ian Guest. This is another post to the list associated with toxic Twitter.

9 responses on “🎧 Teachers and Social Media with Stewart Riddle (TER #128)”

  1. This reminds me of a comment (which ironically was a Tweet) from Alec Couros from a few years ago:

    I called @biosgraphy on spamming everyone w/ same tweet & was met w/insults. This is how not to promote ur product. pic.twitter.com/JBysneFcIA
    — Dr. Alec Couros (@courosa) June 7, 2014

    https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js
    There are challenges when it is so easy to just push out comments and critique. This is something Stewart Riddle touches on in a recent interview on the TER Podcast.

    Reply

  2. Really interesting post Dave. I have been thinking a lot about Twitter lately. Like Stewart Riddle, I have concerns about you describe as the ‘rise of the jerks’. Yet, as you touch upon, there are still good people able to connect on Twitter. For some the answer is owning your own domain, while for others it is decentralised networks. However, Ian Guest challenged me with three questions:

    What would happen (for you) if Twitter’s ‘fail whale’ reappeared tomorrow and suddenly Twitter was gone?
    What if you deactivated your original account and started afresh? Knowing what you know and bearing in mind what you wrote in this post, how would you do things differently, if at all? Is ‘making Twitter great again’ within your capacity?
    If Twitter is broken beyond repair and neither Mastodon nor micro.blog quite cut it, if you had the wherewithall, what would you design as a replacement? What would it need to have or be able to do?

    Along with your focus on working with people and problems, you have left me wondering what next. I wonder if post-digital is a time of ‘informed consent‘? Or maybe George Seimens suggests it is about ‘being’ skills?? Or maybe the ‘answer’ is having this conversation in the first place? Surely it is only through conversation that we are able to throw off the yoke of digital dogma? I feel that this is what Douglas Rushkoff’s book Team Human attempts.

    Reply

  3. Andrea Stringer recently wrote a post about the people who inspire you. Rather than write a list of names, which is often the way with such movements as #FollowFriday, Stringer summarises the characteristics of those who inspired her and who she aspires to be:

    Successful without sacrificing integrity
    Place people before profit
    Generous with their time
    Build relationships & connections (established & new)
    Listen to understand, not to respond.
    It’s not always about what you can do for them.
    Genuine & Authentic. How they act in public is who they are.

    Stringer’s post and list had me thinking about two things. Firstly, how I myself stacked up against those characteristics? How successful have I been? At what? Am I still generous? As my family has grown this has become a challenge. Being less active on social media and more focused on comments and my commonplace book, I would like to think I listen to understand, but I am never quite sure.
    The second wonder was what it means to be connected today? I have long been an advocate of being a connected educator, however I am not sure what happened? In recent times it feels like things have changed. Maybe it is me? Leaving the classroom to work in an administrative role three years has changed my position? Or maybe it is just connected education in general? Maybe the focus around online communities of practice has changed? Maybe the platforms have changed? Maybe people have changed? Maybe people move beyond paywalls and closed spaces? All in all, it just felt like an itch I could not scratch.
    Dai Barnes’ sudden passing brought this all to the fore again. I did not know Dai in person, our connection was online, yet he felt like an integral part of my personalised learning network. In particular, he came into my world through the TIDE Podcast. I listened to each and every episode. I was always left thinking, reflecting and wondering. The perspective that Doug Belsaw and Dai brought together always felt novel and refreshing. I once reflected that each episode was like going to the pub for a quiet Sunday session only to be surprised:

    I think that TIDE is akin to turning up to a shabby pub on a Sunday afternoon, thinking that you are just going to have a causal conversation about this and that, only to discover a session of drinking craft beer. The session seems to drag on into the night and somehow evolves into finishing things off with a glass of top-shelf single-malt whiskey.

    The particular memory that will stay with me is of Dai recounting a job interview for a deputy head position in Episode 117. A part of the process involved modelling a lesson. For this he looked at creating a social credit system in school. In a conversation towards the end of the lesson, one student touched on the problem where a student may have built up so much credit at the end of year that they could do anything. Dai recounted how he continued this conversation, suggesting that you could even jump on the table. The next minute he found himself caught in the moment and subsequently “jumping on the table like Jesus.” Needless to say, he did not get that job.
    Link to audio
    What I liked about Dai was his seemingly carefree attitude and openness. He would say it as he saw it even if it ran counter to sentiment. He was not wedded to any ideas and technology in particular. Thinking about various problems, I would often wonder what would Doug and Dai say?
    If TIDE was a Sunday session that seemed to drag on without realising it. For me Dai’s sudden passing was like having a moment where one of the party vomits and you just don’t feel like drinking anymore. I will miss Dai dulcet tones and his unique perspective. As Tim Klapdor suggested:

    Dai made a dent in the universe, its shaped just like his bare foot.

    This has reminded me that being a connected does matter, but that I have probably need to thank those people in my community that I have come to take for granted. If there is anything to come out of this it is to tell those around you why they matter.

    If you enjoy what you read here, feel free to sign up for my monthly newsletter to catch up on all things learning, edtech and storytelling.
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    Remembering Dai Barnes     by Aaron Davis is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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  4. Andrea Stringer recently wrote a post about the people who inspire you. Rather than write a list of names, which is often the way with such movements as #FollowFriday, Stringer summarises the characteristics of those who inspired her and who she aspires to be:

    Successful without sacrificing integrity
    Place people before profit
    Generous with their time
    Build relationships & connections (established & new)
    Listen to understand, not to respond.
    It’s not always about what you can do for them.
    Genuine & Authentic. How they act in public is who they are.

    Stringer’s post and list had me thinking about two things. Firstly, how I myself stacked up against those characteristics? How successful have I been? At what? Am I still generous? As my family has grown this has become a challenge. Being less active on social media and more focused on comments and my commonplace book, I would like to think I listen to understand, but I am never quite sure.
    The second wonder was what it means to be connected today? I have long been an advocate of being a connected educator, however I am not sure what happened? In recent times it feels like things have changed. Maybe it is me? Leaving the classroom to work in an administrative role three years has changed my position? Or maybe it is just connected education in general? Maybe the focus around online communities of practice has changed? Maybe the platforms have changed? Maybe people have changed? Maybe people move beyond paywalls and closed spaces? All in all, it just felt like an itch I could not scratch.
    Dai Barnes’ sudden passing brought this all to the fore again. I did not know Dai in person, our connection was online, yet he felt like an integral part of my personalised learning network. In particular, he came into my world through the TIDE Podcast. I listened to each and every episode. I was always left thinking, reflecting and wondering. The perspective that Doug Belsaw and Dai brought together always felt novel and refreshing. I once reflected that each episode was like going to the pub for a quiet Sunday session only to be surprised:

    I think that TIDE is akin to turning up to a shabby pub on a Sunday afternoon, thinking that you are just going to have a causal conversation about this and that, only to discover a session of drinking craft beer. The session seems to drag on into the night and somehow evolves into finishing things off with a glass of top-shelf single-malt whiskey.

    The particular memory that will stay with me is of Dai recounting a job interview for a deputy head position in Episode 117. A part of the process involved modelling a lesson. For this he looked at creating a social credit system in school. In a conversation towards the end of the lesson, one student touched on the problem where a student may have built up so much credit at the end of year that they could do anything. Dai recounted how he continued this conversation, suggesting that you could even jump on the table. The next minute he found himself caught in the moment and subsequently “jumping on the table like Jesus.” Needless to say, he did not get that job.
    Link to audio
    What I liked about Dai was his seemingly carefree attitude and openness. He would say it as he saw it even if it ran counter to sentiment. He was not wedded to any ideas and technology in particular. Thinking about various problems, I would often wonder what would Doug and Dai say?
    If TIDE was a Sunday session that seemed to drag on without realising it. For me Dai’s sudden passing was like having a moment where one of the party vomits and you just don’t feel like drinking anymore. I will miss Dai dulcet tones and his unique perspective. As Tim Klapdor suggested:

    Dai made a dent in the universe, its shaped just like his bare foot.

    This has reminded me that being a connected does matter, but that I have probably need to thank those people in my community that I have come to take for granted. If there is anything to come out of this it is to tell those around you why they matter.

    If you enjoy what you read here, feel free to sign up for my monthly newsletter to catch up on all things learning, edtech and storytelling.

    Reply

  5. Reflecting on the recent furore that has arisen around Tom Rogers’ post sharing who to follow on Twitter, Sherri Spelic share some tips and questions to consider when dealing with the toxic side of Twitter.

    – Is my engagement here necessary or essential?
    – Will this conversation be helped by my intervention? In what way?
    – Use a side commentary by quote-tweeting the original source of conflict.
    – Use questions or invite the person to elaborate on a point of confusion.
    – What is this involvement calling forth in me?
    – Is this time I have to dedicate to this cause right now?

    This always has me coming back to Ian Guest’s PhD about Twitter and wondering about all the possibilities, as well as what part Twitter itself plays with all this.
    Marginalia

    The next time we feel drawn into a rage-inducing exchange, we can perhaps first ask ourselves how the platform benefits and if that’s where our energies are really best spent. Twitter loves our rage. Our individual and public health do not.

    Reply

  7. C. Thi Nguyen discusses how Twitter gamifies communication. He explains that games are about creating agency within a contrived structure.

    Games, I’ve argued, are the art form that works in the medium of agency. The game designer doesn’t just create characters, stories, and environments. The game designer sculpts the temporary agency that the player will occupy during the game. They design, not only a world, but who the player will be in that world. I do not just mean that the game designer provides a fictional backstory for a character. They design the essential agential structure of the in-game actor. They designate what the in-game agent’s abilities and affordances will be — whether they will be a jumper, a shooter, a builder or an information gatherer. And, most importantly, the game designer sets the in-game agent’s motivations by setting the goals of the game. (Page 8)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    In contrast, gamification is about adding goals to real-life activities:

    But gamification is an entirely different matter. In gamification, the designers are instrumentalizing the goals of our real-life activities. FitBit, by gamifying exercise, invites us to change our goals for our health and fitness. And Twitter, by gamifying discourse, invites us to change our goals for conversation, communication, and declaration. Instrumentalizing one’s goals is fine in striving games, because the goals in games were never valuable, in and of themselves, in the first place. But in real life activity, the goals are often independently valuable. So when we gamify those activities and instrumentalize those ends for the sake of pleasure, we risk losing sight of the real importance of the activity. Twitter’s gamification changes our communicative goals away from understanding, connection, and the collective pursuit of truth, and bends them towards something much more impoverished. (Page 30 – 31)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    Nguyen raises the question whether gamification really is an ‘unalloyed good’:

    In McGonigal’s picture, gamification is an unalloyed good: it simply removes drudgery and adds pleasure. But her optimism depends on believing that gamification can achieve these psychological goods while adequately preserving the value of the activity. (Page 7)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    With gamification, the focus then becomes about the greatest number:

    We will prefer those communications that appeal to the greatest number — even if that appeal is marginally positive — rather than those communications that might reach a smaller number more deeply. (Page 13)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    The problem with such a focus is that things like slow appreciation of ideas and diversity of perspectives is often overlooked in light of the short term instant focus:

    Slow appreciation is far less likely to be captured by the system and be counted towards that tweet’s score. (Page 12)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    Along with this, the focus is also on what can be counted.

    a life of gamification will tend to draw us towards those activities which have clearly measurable goals, or can be transformed into something with clearly measurable goals. When we demand the pleasures of gamification in our activities, then the range of activities available to us diminishes – and the degrees of freedom we have within the activity also diminishes. (Page 17)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    Focusing on what can be counted tempts users to change their goals to match.

    We aim to express what we think of as true, and to question and challenge each other’s expressions, as part of our quest to understand the world. But gamification tempts us to change our goals — to aim at expressions which maximize our score, rather than those which aid our collective understanding. And it promises to reward us for that change with pleasure. Twitter tempts us to subvert the activity of earnest conversation for hedonistic reasons. (Page 25)
    First, Twitter’s makers are designing for gamification for the sake of profit, which they pursue by making their design seductively pleasurable to its end-users. And second, those users are accepting the seduction, and gamifying their discourse for the sake of pleasure. At both levels, we find people willing to forsake the original goals of discourse for some other end. (Page 34)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    Overall, Nguyen summarises the situation by comparing gamification, moral outrage porn, and echo chambers with junk food and nutrition.

    Gamification, echo chambers, and moral outrage porn go together like junk food. Different kinds of junk food are unhealthy in different ways — some are too high in salt, some too high in fat, some too high in sugar. But the reason they are often consumed together is that they are all likely to be consumed by somebody who is willing to trade off health and nutrition in return for a certain kind of quick pleasure. The same is true of gamification, moral outrage porn, and echo chambers. They are all readily available sources of a certain quick and easy pleasure, available to anybody willing to relax with their moral and epistemic standards.
    …
    Echo chambers instrumentalize our trust; moral outrage porn instrumentalizes our morality; and gamification instrumentalizes our goals (Page 37 – 38)
    C Thi Nguyen https://objectionable.net/

    This reminds me of danah boyd’s questions about the merit and meaning of measuring endless amounts of stats online.

    Stats have this terrible way of turning you — or, at least, me — into a zombie. I know that they don’t say anything. I know that huge chunks of my Twitter followers are bots, that I could’ve bought my way to a higher Amazon ranking, that my Medium stats say nothing about the quality of my work, and that I should not treat any number out there as a mechanism for self-evaluation of my worth as a human being.
    danah boyd https://medium.com/message/my-name-is-danah-and-im-a-stats-addict-93f7636320bb

    It is also interesting to consider this whole discussion of numbers in regards to education and what discourse looks like in places like Twitter.

    Reply

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