"Edutainment (also educational entertainment or entertainment-education) is a form of entertainment designed to educate as well as to amuse....The noun edutainment is a neologistic portmanteau coined by Bob Heyman while producing documentaries for the National Geographic Society" ...so says Wikipedia.
Guilty as charged. I have long known that I had a tendency to hype class up a bit, that it was as much the thrill of entertaining as the product of enlightenment that kept me coming back to the classroom. I did not have a word for it, before now, and even armed with this word, I cannot decide quite how to come to terms with this...issue.
On the one hand, I feel guilty, like an entertainer who will work extra hard for applause--in that respect my instructional delivery might be deemed a self-serving opportunity to perform for a captive audience.
On the other hand, not only is there a word for it, there is an entire pedagogy developing around the thought that learning can be fun. Acknowledging the education field is full of -isms and ideologies, this one more, new stratagem can't be any worse than, say, "brain-based learning."
I wish I could take myself and my subject so seriously that I would deliver content more droll and monotonous than Ben Stein could ever muster--yet it would be so full of truth and be so very valuable that people would knock down my door to enroll in my classes. That would be some content! Instead, realizing that some people have a predisposition against my field, I tend to joke around and make the content as viable, current, and entertaining as possible. The outcome may be that I'm a goofy clown, or it may be that students learn more--I lack the skill to assess that and the ability to distance myself from my delivery. (I do know, however, that I hate watching myself on tape!)
Debate on edutainment branches far beyond the classroom. Recently I took my boys to Exploration Place, a children's museum. There was an exhibit of giant, motorized bugs on display--sure to make an impression. The literature, staff, and signage were excellent at clarifying that the scorpion was 28 times actual size, etc...but I wonder how many little kids really grasp that. Will they live in fear of a praying mantis looming over their bed? Will they grow up with a complex, never able to secure a big-enough fly swatter? I think the sensationalism that museums are now being forced to pump out has to be tempered with fact and clarified repeatedly once the clientele is in the door gawking at the life-sized woolly mammoth, etc.
It is the same, I think, with class. So long as the truth, the facts, the writing styles and models are shared fairly, I am inclined to say that it can be conveyed by someone with a rainbow colored afro and a red bulbous nose. Consider how, say, Patch Adams was able to build better rapport with patients through the use of humor. Consider how we all remember the little "Conjunction Junction" ditty. Yes, I think edutainment has its place, and I admit to being a practitioner of said pedagogy...but I'm still somewhat ashamed of it and always curious as to the effectiveness of it.
It's as old as parables, yet modernization allows one to incorporate online interactivity, YouTube and even SecondLife. I've been scheming up a design for offering a communications course inside SecondLife, and my avatar lives on an Education Island as I write.
One of my best friends, however, suggests I live my life and practice my profession as if there were no technological bells and whistles. He says the day will come when it will be revealed that all this technology was mere smoke and mirrors. He forecasts that this revelation will come all-too-late for those of us in the biz of edutainment. Old school profs, like himself, will carry the torch while folks like me will be dumbstruck with the harsh realities of the fleshworld.
I hope I'm not that consumed with bells and whistles. I hope he's wrong, too, that we can co-exist without bursting anyone's bubble. I guess until his gloomy forecast comes true, I will poke around and do my best.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Observed
What with all the hubbub lately over Senator Larry Craig, I may be a bit more aware of bathroom etiquette than usual...but I've sure seen some strange things this week.
Write your name in feces! Why would someone do anything with their waste but flush it? Maybe I'm conservative or old school on this one, maybe repressed in my upbringing or something, but it seems a bit odd to me. Above all else, why would one be so proud as to ascribe their name on the stall wall, and yet do it with poop?
Tall voyeurs lurk. (Women may not be able to relate to this one...) Toilet stalls are in men's rooms for work to be done sitting down. Other acts should be done at the urinal. I know some people have bashful bladder and need the security of a stall to accomplish their tasks; however, it's just creepy when especially tall men choose to urinate in an adjacent stall. All too often there is some uncomfortable exchange, "Hey, how's it goin'" when eye contact is made over the top of the stall. Why are they standing over there, and why are they looking down here? It's just odd.
Mobile Phone madness. Not only have I heard people regularly converse while in a stall doing their business, but I've also heard those conversations punctuated with grunting, panting, and other sounds that accompany the work to be done in the stall. I would not want to be on the phone with someone thus engaged. Why do people insist on talking on their mobile phones while they are otherwise so busy?
....and today, the most peculiar observation of late...
I had to make a visit to the high school "BOYS" restroom, for the one in my building was out of commission. This alone brought back eerie memories of fighting, of pissing contests, and of many unmentionables that ever-haunt a fellow. Anyway, while in the boy's room, I was at the urinal (as anyone should be when executing the function I was involved in). Nearby, some young man was in a stall, sitting there with his pants around his ankles. He was not overly consumed with his biological function therein; however, he was totally consumed with flipping two coins. He would flip the pair, then grumble or comment under his breath, then pick them up and do it again, and again, and again...this continued through my follow-up hand washing, my attention to good grooming, and likely long after I left. He was, at one time, apparently pleased with the outcome of the coin flipping, commenting, "Finally!" (though this could have been something related to his other purpose in the stall, I guess). I am supposing that he was testing statistics, attempting to note (perhaps in human excrement tally marks inside the stall) whenever the two were coming up the same side up--but I will never know.
Keep an eye out, there are always strange things afoot.
Write your name in feces! Why would someone do anything with their waste but flush it? Maybe I'm conservative or old school on this one, maybe repressed in my upbringing or something, but it seems a bit odd to me. Above all else, why would one be so proud as to ascribe their name on the stall wall, and yet do it with poop?
Tall voyeurs lurk. (Women may not be able to relate to this one...) Toilet stalls are in men's rooms for work to be done sitting down. Other acts should be done at the urinal. I know some people have bashful bladder and need the security of a stall to accomplish their tasks; however, it's just creepy when especially tall men choose to urinate in an adjacent stall. All too often there is some uncomfortable exchange, "Hey, how's it goin'" when eye contact is made over the top of the stall. Why are they standing over there, and why are they looking down here? It's just odd.
Mobile Phone madness. Not only have I heard people regularly converse while in a stall doing their business, but I've also heard those conversations punctuated with grunting, panting, and other sounds that accompany the work to be done in the stall. I would not want to be on the phone with someone thus engaged. Why do people insist on talking on their mobile phones while they are otherwise so busy?
....and today, the most peculiar observation of late...
I had to make a visit to the high school "BOYS" restroom, for the one in my building was out of commission. This alone brought back eerie memories of fighting, of pissing contests, and of many unmentionables that ever-haunt a fellow. Anyway, while in the boy's room, I was at the urinal (as anyone should be when executing the function I was involved in). Nearby, some young man was in a stall, sitting there with his pants around his ankles. He was not overly consumed with his biological function therein; however, he was totally consumed with flipping two coins. He would flip the pair, then grumble or comment under his breath, then pick them up and do it again, and again, and again...this continued through my follow-up hand washing, my attention to good grooming, and likely long after I left. He was, at one time, apparently pleased with the outcome of the coin flipping, commenting, "Finally!" (though this could have been something related to his other purpose in the stall, I guess). I am supposing that he was testing statistics, attempting to note (perhaps in human excrement tally marks inside the stall) whenever the two were coming up the same side up--but I will never know.
Keep an eye out, there are always strange things afoot.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Total Tonality
Ever hear a high-pitched sound in the background?
Ever just gradually shut out sound after sound to find your own internal tone? This may 'sound' crazy, but it's been a sleeping secret of mine for decades. Whenever I find my mind to be too brain-busy to snooze, I can listen. Somehow, I narrow down and winnow away the ambient noises of life (air conditioner, cars passing, etc). I continue this listening to hear beyond my own breathing and heart beat, and eventually I wind up with a tone, I guess one would call it. It is just a constant beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep sounding out there beyond what one would normally attend to. Finding this pitch has always been a way to find my center and solace. I can almost always put myself to sleep by giving it my exclusive attention.
Or, I can carry on. Sometimes, I've found myself just dipping into my head to see if that sound is still there--and it always is--then continuing about my day.
One time it tends to be obvious is when true hearing is momentarily impaired, like right after a very loud explosion. Then I can hear my tone and nothing else. When I am startled awake, listening hard for what woke me, I have a hard time hearing around the tone.
Another occurrence of the tone, and this is the subject of this post, is when I am so beyond exhausted that I seem to have less control of my attention. I am hearing said tone even now, in spite of hallway traffic, the tip-tapping of my keyboard, etc. At times like this, the tone is annoying, a keen keening that rents my head. I don't have a headache, and I'm not especially distracted, but I do have this noticeable, ever-present pitch making itself known, embedded in every auditory experience of my day, an aural intruder. I can no more shut it out or turn it down than I could unplug my own pulse.
I wonder about the tone. I wonder if, perhaps, everyone has their own frequency...and maybe, do kindred spirits have harmonious tones whether they know it or not? I wonder if one is truly dead when his/her tone dies out, rather than brain waves or vital signs. Maybe The Tone is the ultimate vital sign.
...or maybe I'm just hearing things.
Ever just gradually shut out sound after sound to find your own internal tone? This may 'sound' crazy, but it's been a sleeping secret of mine for decades. Whenever I find my mind to be too brain-busy to snooze, I can listen. Somehow, I narrow down and winnow away the ambient noises of life (air conditioner, cars passing, etc). I continue this listening to hear beyond my own breathing and heart beat, and eventually I wind up with a tone, I guess one would call it. It is just a constant beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep sounding out there beyond what one would normally attend to. Finding this pitch has always been a way to find my center and solace. I can almost always put myself to sleep by giving it my exclusive attention.
Or, I can carry on. Sometimes, I've found myself just dipping into my head to see if that sound is still there--and it always is--then continuing about my day.
One time it tends to be obvious is when true hearing is momentarily impaired, like right after a very loud explosion. Then I can hear my tone and nothing else. When I am startled awake, listening hard for what woke me, I have a hard time hearing around the tone.
Another occurrence of the tone, and this is the subject of this post, is when I am so beyond exhausted that I seem to have less control of my attention. I am hearing said tone even now, in spite of hallway traffic, the tip-tapping of my keyboard, etc. At times like this, the tone is annoying, a keen keening that rents my head. I don't have a headache, and I'm not especially distracted, but I do have this noticeable, ever-present pitch making itself known, embedded in every auditory experience of my day, an aural intruder. I can no more shut it out or turn it down than I could unplug my own pulse.
I wonder about the tone. I wonder if, perhaps, everyone has their own frequency...and maybe, do kindred spirits have harmonious tones whether they know it or not? I wonder if one is truly dead when his/her tone dies out, rather than brain waves or vital signs. Maybe The Tone is the ultimate vital sign.
...or maybe I'm just hearing things.
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