How do we learn to cope with life on the net? By being like
destructive toddlers, says Mike Holderness. But we have to give
them the toys
Want pay? Play!
One of the great mysteries of life is how we manage to take
infinitely inquisitive eighteen-month-old toddlers and turn them
into incurious eleven-year-olds -- and then into adults who wax
imaginative in their excuses for not confronting their fear of
unfamiliar technology.
"Give us training first," they cry. "Give us instructions. How
do
we do this, that, the other?" I do my best. But the people who
are at home with technology are those who have not forgotten how
to play.
The approach which works is exploratory, that of a destructively
curious 18-month-old teaching herself physics: [Thinks bubble:]
"What happens if I push that? Oops! Is it repeatable? Yes!!" She
end up with orange juice all over the floor, again; and with
another grain of understanding of how the world works.
The phrase "18-month-old teaching herself physics" produces some
blank looks. No-one remembers doing it. If you don't believe it,
read "Baby It's You" by developmental psychologist Professor Annette
Karmiloff-Smith. As she summarises: "Infants don't just explore
the world. They build theories, and once a 'theory-in-action' is
built, for a while children ignore counter-examples. They are
like real little scientists."
Bruce Bond is "Managing Director National Business
Communications" for BT. His home is, as you might expect, stuffed
with technology. He tells the story of taking home the CD-ROM
disk of Sesame Street. His daughter, then two-and-a-half years
old, picked it up, walked over to the right computer, turned it
on, inserted the disk, and confidently started playing.
Simply to write down the decisions she made, in the form of
procedural instructions for a nervous adult, would take a couple
of pages. To get some nervous adults to relax enough to take in
this information might take weeks. To write a linear, connected
narrative on using a branching, "hyper-media" work is impossible.
They key is to accept that this is a new medium and to form a
mental model -- any reasonable model will do -- of how it
operates. What you need for that is not training, but education:
philosophy is more help than arithmetic.
There is a certain kind of machismo around among those who have
grasped the concepts necessary to explore. One shareware package
offers "Help" on its menu bar, only to respond smugly: "Real Mac
Users don't need help. [OK]"
The Internet, as the biggest technological playground, offers
probably the ultimate challenge: telnet. This is capable of
dumping you at someone else's operating system prompt --
neglecting to tell you what the operating system is.
For the majority of computer users, who have no effective mental
model of the category "operating system", this might issue the
instruction "PANIC!" in 216-point Old English. For the playful,
it's another interesting challenge. (Try entering "help"; if that
puzzles the other machine, try "?" or even "man man". Don't ask:
do it.)
This is emphatically not a problem which will go away with
friendlier interfaces: they merely shift the challenge to a
different semantic level. As Jeff Morgan, National Council for
Educational Technology director responsible for electronic
communications, says: "In the 21st century, today's children are
going to have to be able to find information from around the
world -- to search, download, store and process it... information
handling is the really, really important bit."
It can't be too long before you come across a Web page in Spanish
(or, later, Hindi). All you can possibly do, other than panic, is
to try further links until something makes sense: "What happens
if I push that? Oops!"
Or, as educational psychologist Professor David Wood says: "The
technology is moving at such a rate that schools face a real
challenge -- I defy anyone to use their crystal ball to say what
the tools will be in ten years. There's no point in teaching kids
specific skills. What they need is much more exploratory
activity, developing the sorts of skills which they will need to
be able to play with, and make discoveries about, the new systems
which they will encounter."
Anyone who can come up with a reliable remedial programme for
play-impaired adults is on to a winner. An even bigger challenge
is to try to ensure that today's kids do not become similarly
impaired. At least among netizens, it's commonplace to predict
that, in the near future, virtually all the interesting and
interestingly-paid jobs will be freelance and information-based.
If this is even partly true, then the kids who cannot or will not
explore will be condemned to MacJobs.
New technology seems, on the face of it, to have produced a
rather surprising argument for some of the principles and ideals
of those derided "trendy" educationalists.
Professor Wood does warn against being too sanguine about
children's' learning through exploration. He points to
disappointing results with the Logo "turtle-drawing" computer
system: "the idea was that kids should set their own problems and
choose their own agenda. The children may produce beautiful
patterns on screen but they only explore a small set of the
available commands." A sense of mission seems essential -- like
that provided by a boss or client demanding data now.
More, unfortunately, is needed than policy changes, challenging
though those may be to conservative Ministers seeking reassurance
that their 19th-century schooling was good enough for the 21st
century and that everyone else can follow a rigid Curriculum all
the way Back to Basics.
Those who have the opportunity as children to get familiar with
new technology, and especially global networking, will have an
advantage over those who do not. If there is to be anything like
equality of opportunity within Britain -- leaving aside the rather large
question
of global inequality -- then someone is
going to have to provide the equipment with which the kids on
Housing Benefit Hill can learn as much as do the children of
major corporate executives.
Does this mean providing one computer per child? Probably.
A few brave new schemes like the NCET's portable computer
initiative are testing the water in a handful of schools. But the
reality is better expressed by the teacher whose primary school
"had the telephone line for the modem installed in a cupboard-
size room and then found that the computer trolley would not go
in through the door." That's "the computer", as in one of one.
The NCET's more immediate mission is "telling anyone who cares to
listen that the next best thing is for each primary teacher to
have access to their own computer."
Observe that when, rarely, there are enough computers to go
around, girls use them at least as much as boys. When there's a
shortage, the boys hog them. Not providing enough computers may
thus be actionable sex discrimination. Some government is going
to have to grasp this rather virulent financial nettle, very
soon.