They've Done It AGAIN

Warning: Soapbox blog!

Recently, someone I follow on Twitter tweeted the blog article linked above, saying it was an interesting comparison of online vs. F2F delivery. The blog is written by an Associate Prof at San Jose State U, and tells of her experiences in an online training vs training covering the same material but done f2f [face-to-face]. She determines that in order to meet their departmental needs, they will need to include more f2f training, because it is doing a better job than the online training.

NOT.

Not a comparison, or at least not a valid one. Two professionals have made the same mistake, again -- taking two different trainings/courses/lessons/whatever -- and thinking they are the same except for the delivery method. This means of course, that the delivery method must be responsible for any differences in learning. Sheesh. How long do we have to do this until folks pay attention to what really matters?

Now, both of these people [blogger and tweeter] are astute, educated people -- they should know better. But for some reason, people keep doing this over and over and over. If we go back to the earliest days of using any technology at all in learning, this same error pops up. So it's a common one, and I probably shouldn't be surprised.

Still, in reading the blog, look at the design differences the professor brings out:

Online Delivery	F2F Delivery
“information washes” over students [indicates no participation/engagement] minimal amount of information presented	‘greater depth and breadth’ in materials more interaction: questions inserted active participation required print materials for reference and taking notes using the material

What do we see? The f2f training gets folks involved, gets them engaged in various ways, makes them use the material in activities/exercises. Well, no wonder it seems useful, and she felt like she learned more, anyone would.

But all of that can also be done online -- and done well. Create equally well-designed courses, and the delivery mode will not make such a great difference. I hope that at some point, we learn to look at the instructional design, and not at zero on what seems obvious -- but isn't.

Done with the soapbox for now.

Fair Time!

So I've been to the Fair this week. Not the Fair where I live, but one about 45 minutes away (my daughter works this one). I suspect that County/District/State Fairs may be a dying tradition, but I love them. I love the sense of community and the close ties to the land they embody.

Monday I spent 5 hours judging the Agriculture crops -- mostly this was vegetable gardening, which was a good thing! I was not terribly confident of the actual agricultural crops -- two pint jars of oats, looking exactly the same, two identical bales of hay (and what kind of hay? I don't even know!), how to decide which is better? Ack!

However, when it came to the bulk of the entries -- the vegetables, I knew my stuff. I found that I judged from two perspectives -- a gardening perspective (healthy plant, signs of dehydration, etc.) and also a chef perspective (who in the world wants a zucchini the size of a small animal?). After all, this food is meant to eat -- and many times size is not an indicator of quality. Presentation counted with me, too. Many entries were dumped on a plate, but also quite a few had made an attempt to make the vegetable(s) look attractive -- in a basket with a cloth was popular. A mixed herb bouquet was beautiful to look at and had a wonderful mix of very healthy looking herbs -- special award there. Perfectly ripened tomatoes set carefully in a basket and decorated with smaller cherry tomatoes -- lovely presentation, another special award. Dehydrated, tough and woody-looking radishes on a paper plate -- umm, no sorry. Also the beets that had no beets (just tops) -- umm, nope.

This was fun, and I surprised myself with how much I myself have learned over the years -- which I could articulate and communicate to the folks entering. Came home exhausted, but feeling good about what I'd done.

Last night I went to the Market Auction. Yes, this is expensive meat -- but I don't mind, I can do this, and besides -- in our own lean years, many people bought the hogs my kids raised, which helped their bank accounts when we really needed that. So now it's my turn to give back.

The first auctioneer looked like he couldn't possibly be out of high school -- yet he had the aplomb and public confidence only years of experience can provide. His patter was smooth, his manner with the public was friendly but sure. Turns out he is the son of the regular auctioneer -- has probably been trying out auction patter since he learned to talk! It was fun to watch a young kid pick up this age-old tradition and do so well.

I was looking at rabbits this year, and another pig (still have lamb in the freezer from last year). But the first thing I ended up buying was a pen of cornish game hens. Two of the kids in the 4-H group had planned to raise hens, as did the rest of the group. Two days before the chicks arrived, these kids' mother collapsed and was rushed to the hospital -- she had to be transported to Grand Rapids where they discovered a brain tumor. So, the rest of the kids in the 4-H group decided they would raise the hens, then sell them and all the money would go back to the family.

Prices on these donation pens went higher than the other hens. The first pen was sold three times -- the first two buyers were businesses, and immediately said, "Sell them again!" I ended up with that first pen, on the third go-round. A community pulled together to help. This does one's soul good.

I also ended up the only bidder on the only pen of rabbits. I've always believed that 4-H kids (country kids in general) have no illusions about where their food comes from -- they know where these animal projects are headed. But I have to say, I did feel a bit badly telling this young lady I wanted her rabbits dressed. This was her first project, and she didn't know what the next steps were; her friends were there to help her show the rabbits, petting and cooing at them -- and truth to tell, they were cute. No doubt about it, pigs are not cute. She asked me if 'dressed' meant they would stay alive -- and I had to say no, that is not what it means. Sigh.

And this year's pig was "home-grown" -- evidently the current term for a farrow-to-finish pig. The young lady presented me with a thank you card and boxed gift -- I was expecting something like a knife set and BBQ sauce (like last year) -- but on arriving home, found a half-dozen huge homemade cinnamon rolls! All right!

So later this year we'll invite some guests and have a special dinner of cornish game hen in honor of a woman we've never met; we'll enjoy some rabbit fricassee or hassenpfeffer; and of course all year long there'll be good pork roasts and way better ham and bacon than you can find in the supermarket. And three 4-H kids get a bit more in their bank accounts.

The next right thing

So today I had coffee with someone who really needed the time. I don't have the time. I have many things on my list today, and deadlines hanging over my head, people waiting. Still, I made this appointment and kept it.

This is not the first time I've met with someone new to recovery. And, given past experiences, I wonder at myself -- why did I initiate this? To date, not one person who has asked me to listen, to be a temporary sponsor, has held on. Not so many folks, to be sure, but also a discouraging track record. Yet today not only did I carve out this time, but I stopped to get a small notebook and a copy of Covington's book and workbook. I gave them all to her, with assignments even. I listened and shared my own experiences. I've known this person for about 72 hours, but I know her in ways only we can. "I feel so alone" she said, and I nodded. Then pointed out to her that no one -- absolutely no one -- was shocked at meetings when she shared something she felt humiliating. Been there. Suffered our own personal humiliations. Been ashamed, felt alone, believed we were not worthwhile nor that anyone could or would love us.

Dropped her off and she hugged me and said she felt such a great connection, "I love you" she said. She was going to start working on the books right away. We'll see, but in any case, I spent a couple hours of my time doing 'the next right thing'. This was the right thing, for me. It all felt right. Maybe she can stay sober this time, or not -- but what I did, was the right thing for me to do.

And there is a completed feeling inside me, not exactly satisfaction but something like. A sense that today, I was where I needed to be in the universe, and did what I needed to do. I can walk away with that.