Seeds for change.

Most comments go unread.

Most questions go unanswered.

Most efforts go unrewarded.


Most cries go unheard.

Most pleas go unheeded.

Most lessons go unlearnt. 

Most.................go un.................

Most ................go un................

Most ................go un................

Most.................go un................

Shift Change.

Seeds for change.

I was reading Terry Elliott's recent blog post "Seeds for change."

It's not very long.

It contains the germ of an idea.

"It might seem a lot for a little, but what I have bought is strong signal. Seeds are information beacons. I want to know if my soil fits that info. Will it sprout readily, will it take root well, will it winter, will it tolerate the oft-wet, sandy, jackrock soil? Each seed is a small story waiting to be heard."

Terry Elliott

Seeds for change.

The idea of being attentive to a complex, fragile, ecosystem.

The faith to invest one's energy in the faint hope of something growing.

Curiosity to learn what will take root, what will sprout.

Seeds for change.

I cast out a few ideas.

A story of bilingual rock-climbing sprouted via Facebook and seeded in other fields.

A story of craft chocolate appeared in the classroom, contained in a large carrier bag.

A story of athletes kneeling was murmuring around the rooms.


Seeds for change.

The idea of being attentive to a complex, fragile, ecosystem.

The faith to invest one's energy in the perhaps faint hope of something growing.

Curiosity to learn what will take root, what will sprout.


Seeds for change.

"It might seem a lot for a little, but what I have bought is strong signal. Seeds are information beacons. I want to know if my soil fits that info. Will it sprout readily, will it take root well, will it winter, will it tolerate the oft-wet, sandy, jackrock soil? Each seed is a small story waiting to be heard."

Terry Elliott

Seeds for change pic.twitter.com/leUQOE1bON

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) September 27, 2017

Learning is a mechanism. 1. Starting point

I was browsing absent-mindedly a Facebook stream. 

There was something which attracted my attention. 

It was a Slideshare presentation. 

It was a Jesse Stommel keynote from somewhere. 

If I were on my PC, I would embed it but for now I place a link to the slides:

http://www.slideshare.net/jessestommel/learning-is-not-a-mechanism-assessment-student-agency-and-digital-spaces

There were two aspects which immediately attracted my interest:

1) The image of a Stormtrooper holding an over-sized Scrabble tile (I think letter B). 

The Stormtrooper's body and head position were ambiguous. 

There was a story to unravel therein. 

The image of the Stormtrooper with the title evoked questions of power, violence and yet the Scrabble tile suggested play and the way in which the trooper was holding the tile made me think he or she or it was clasping a precious object to his breastplate armour.  

Was the tile a tablet? 

Was the tile a holy tablet?

Was the tile an infant?

Was the tile a book?

Was the tile a book of spells? 

Was the tile a book of spelling? 

Was the tile a volume of an encylcopaedia for the letter B?

My curiosity was aroused.

I love imagination-riffing off curious assemblages.

2) The title: Learning is not a mechanism.

I don't know why the title resonated so much.  

It is perhaps a gut reaction against humans being harnessed to machines. 

It is perhaps a throw back to Tess of the D'Urbervilles - a scene of country folk being strapped to the philistinian terror of a steam-powered COMBINE harvester. (I note I capitalise combine - I am not sure why - on questioning my choice - I insist on keeping it thus).

It is perhaps an emotional response against a form of "education" (I deliberately italicise)  that sees drilling, procedural steps, discipline, as 'professional', efficient', ´rational', 'serious', 'accountable',  as what the tax-payer, the shareholders?, are paying for, because as we all know, 'education' is expensive and 'time is money'.

We need STANDARDS to stand for.

We need STANDARDS to brandish.

We need STANDARDS to rally the troops.

Strangely however, it was not the title itself which really has captured my imagination, it is its antithesis:

Learning is a mechanism.

It was this idea which sparked a process of hunting, rummaging, reflection, remembering, questioning, reading, studying, collecting, puzzling, noting, ordering, packing, imagining, imaging.

I started drawing out signs on a Popplet. I started connecting symbols.

I quickly came up against conceptual, typographic, emotional, flatness (I quickly refer back to Nick Sousanis - and book mark Unflattening) 

Thinking with word tiles was not enough.

I think back to an earlier post Scrabble.

I think back to an earlier post Submission.

I realise that I am researching sensory, depth, context collapse, dynamic conceptual bubbling (that is the image which comes to me) here. I shall leave the unsatisfactory grammar as written. 

I am essentially immersed in this ecology of which I i i i i i ... am a part, of which I iiiii  are universe.  

I don't stop to question this for fear that I will delete it as nonsense. 

The Iiiiis have IT.

I imagine that to explore learning as mechanism I can not:

Do this with overview.

Do this alone.

Do this as sythesis.

Do this flat. 

Do this apart. 

I must do this through multiple, apparently disconnected vignettes (I note not really understanding this word and enjoying this idea.). 

I leave this in suspense...

Thank you Jesse for the tile.

Zootopia?

I was rather looking forward to coming up eye to eye with the king of the jungle.

My mother had done the pre-lion build-up on the trip to Blackpool Tower Zoo.



"You'll see they even have a lion!"

I was, it had to be admitted, a little apprehensive about being in the same space as a real lion.

After all, he did have the means to  rip me to pieces with his bare paws.

A six-year-old human would be no match for a real lion.


Sensory deprivation

I was disappointed at the pitiful lethargy of the giant cat.

He was slumped in a cage.

He looked gloomily around, yawning with a glazed look of prolonged sensory deprivation.

All roaming was limited to uncomfortable shifting of cramped up limbs.

If he had been stuffed, with a roar on cassette loop, I might have been more impressed.

I was left with a sensation of intense sadness.

Zootopia.

Yes this was much better.

The owners of the progressive zoo had imagined animal heaven.

Lions were free to roam.

Trees, long grass, contoured, landscaped, enclosure gave a quasi-naturalistic impression of 'wild-life'. (or at least a quasi-naturalistic environment in the Warwickshire countryside.)

The animals seemed much better kept,  they could even stretch their legs, and bound around.

Hunting, of course, was unnecessary as the keepers kept all the animals healthy with carefully measured, scientifically designed diets.

Clever people, are scientists.

Breeding programs were a success. 

In some enclosures, animals of different species were even mixed.

We could see zebra with zebu, and the odd antelope.

Marvellous how animals of such diverse species could manage to live in harmony for the tourists' greater pleasure.

Perhaps the animals were happy to make new exotic friends.

I am not sure if animals make friends.

We were mightily impressed at the great efforts made to educate children.

We  learnt how the zoo was responsible for preserving endangered species.

Out in the wild in Africa, the locals were often inhumane poachers.

Thank God for the World Wild Life Fund!

The Panda was doing a marvellous job in the preservation of African biodiversity.

Educational program

I would like to imagine that in the future our children will look at the enclosures in which past generations were kept as absurd anachrosnism.

They will be shocked at the controlled diets.

Out of Africa 

I was brought up with stories of discovery, of adventurers.

There have been moments in my life when I have looked on at my peers with astonishment.

Whatever happened to grand narrative?

I was shocked that on finishing university, a large number of my fellow 'students' appeared to have their lives mapped out.

They had apparently been studying to get what was called 'a good job'.

What the hell was 'a good job'?

History degrees were apparently perfect preparation for young people to become accountants.

What the hell was an accountant?

I dreamt of adventure.

I met a 'successful' brand manager while working (playing) in Public Relations.

"I hate my job," he told me, "but it's too late now, with the mortgage and all."

He would never perhaps learn of his true nature.

He had become too dependent on his comfort.

He left me with a sensation of intense sadness.

Nature regains ground.

There is both loss and hope encapsulated in this image.

A factory gradually disintegrates.

Nature reclaims ground lost to industrialisation.

Setting our scene.

It is dark in the early morning, I couldn't sleep.

I am caught between night and mourning light.

Desolation and disorientation

There is a work-place that we have known with its reassuring certainty, clearly defined roles.

There is a ruin, that we are propping up, despite an uncontrollable erosion of its very foundations.

Nature regains ground.

There are faint signs of greenery pushing up between the cracks.

Loss and hope.

For some of us, there is only desolation in this scene.

For some of us, there is an impression of being at a loss.

For some of us, there is only a desire to return to order.

For some of us, there are grounds for hope.

Past-times

I can imagine the hustle and bustle in the workshop.

I can imagine the tea-lady doing her rounds.

I can hear the banter around the clocking on clock.

I can glimpse the neatly stacked ledgers each one in its place.

I can hear the voices of supervisors each one busying his work-team.


Worrying complexity of nature

Where there was order, well-oiled machine-like activity, there is absence.

Where there was production line, there is an eery void.

There is a ghost-like quality to the space.

Organic growth appears unbidden, unordered, chaotic.


Retraining our eyes.

We are so unused to nature.

We are so used to cutting it down.

We are so used to making it into manageable shapes.

We were skilled at enclosure.

We are so ill-equipped for openness.