The Smartphone as Swiss Army Knife

Rachel Burnham writes: I found myself looking at my Smartphone last Thursday afternoon and thinking about all the different ways I use it to support my own learning.  As I tend to, I picked up a pen and started to sketch a few of these out – then thought how interesting it would be to hear from other people in my network about how they use their smartphones. 

This is the tweet I shared:

Thank you to all who responded and contributed over the next few days.  I received lots of great suggestions – some I had thought of and lots of additional ones too, plus different perspectives, which is just what I had hoped for.

Many people shared with me the different ways that they used their phone to enable learning – some mentioned listening to podcasts, or using Audible to listen to audio books.  Others mentioned reading articles and blogs and also saving these articles or other resources and making use of tools such as Evernote or Pocket, so that you can return to them.   Many people mentioned watching short videos and some mentioned using screen capture and annotation or specialist apps such as that provided by @Coach’sEye.

For a couple of people a key factor was being able to ‘learn on the go’ and that their smartphone enabled this.  For example, @LindaRuthMcGee shared that she had completed several MOOCs using her smartphone and that its convenience had been crucial to this. 

A couple of people mentioned the importance of access to a search engine, Google, as a vital resource for them via their smartphone.   This led to some discussion about whether the information gathered in this way was learning, or just data.  We had different views on this. Richard Martin @indalogensis homed in on the fact that I had asked about Smartphone use to enable learning and reminded me that our phone is just a tool.  I think the learning comes with how we respond to the stimulus from our phones, whether a tweet, a podcast or a search that we do – does it lead to reflection, insight, action?  So how we use our phones may lead to learning or not. 

You can link this to Harold Jarche’s ‘Seek, Sense, Share’ model of Personal Knowledge Mastery.  Lots of us immediately focused on the ‘Seek’ part of this model in reporting on how we use our phones. 

But people also mentioned using their phones to capture notes, ideas and plan actions eg through use of Trello. The sense-making aspect of Jarche’s model. And some also mentioned sharing, particularly through their networks.

And of course, asking this question on Twitter meant that lots of people mentioned using their phone for conversations with their network – ‘to expand my network’, ‘to learn via my Twitter feed’ and twitter chats.  People also mentioned other networks and groups such as ‘WhatsApp groups’. I particularly liked the breadth of Helen Blunden’s response:

One additional element, that is important for me is that my smartphone helps me to easily collaborate with others and this has been a significant source of learning for me in recent years – one example being my collaboration with @niallgavinuk to explore the use of VR and AR in learning – here is a link to our most recentcuration of resources. 

Taruna Goel @write2tg summed it up for me ‘A smart phone helps me to stay connected and engage in continuous, self-directed learning.’

Reflections

We know that it is really important for us in L&D to be continuously developing our skills and insights, so one step in this direction would be to make sure we are making full use of our smartphone in doing this.   I know that this exercise, has given me a couple of ideas for how I can make even better use of my phone.  

It could be a useful exercise for an L&D team meeting to review and share ideas about how you and your colleagues are using your phone to enable learning.

And this could also be the basis for a useful short session or online conversation with employees – encouraging them to share tips and ideas for using their own phones to support their learning. 

And here is what you have been waiting for, my sketchnote:

Rachel Burnham

26/2/18

Burnham L & D Consultancy helps L&D professionals update and refresh their skills.  I do this through: writing & design commissions; facilitating learning to update knowhow, 1:1 and bespoke ‘train the trainer’ programmes; and the use of Sketchnoting to facilitate learning.

Silence, Space and Sense-making

Rachel Burnham writes: Back in the autumn there was a slew of blog articles about the value of silence and the importance of having space in our lives to think and consider.  In some of these pieces the author related this to meeting their needs as an introvert and as a fellow introvert this interested me.  I began to contemplate this article then, but somehow never found the space to write it…

Now, feeling the benefits of the break over Christmas and the space that gave me, I have made space to write this.

It is a commonplace when thinking about silence and the need for space in our lives to begin by acknowledging the sheer business of our lives and the myriad of information flows competing for our attention.  Particularly if you are into social media, like to read and have the usual array of electronic devices pumping radio, TV, and online options into your home and phone.  So I will take that as a given.

In the autumn, I started to switch off from the computer and social media for one day a week on a Saturday.  I felt I would benefit from time away – a proper break from work - and partly so that I could fully concentrate on other stuff.   I didn’t do this in a conscious ‘turning over a new leaf’ sort of way, it sort of emerged and then I found I liked it and did it more consciously.  I don’t have a hard and fast rule, so I might dip into Twitter, but I try hard not to have to turn my computer on.

And I have found interesting the different space it has created in Saturdays.   The different rhythm for the day.   And the different times it creates within the day.

I have been enjoying having silent times on Saturdays – not always possible when family is in and around our small house – but I like having even small pools of silence – shutting the kitchen door when cooking for example or working quietly on the allotment in the afternoon, when most of the regulars have already finished for the day.

I like have a task to do, one that engages my hands, but not is not too demanding – weeding always works, washing up is a good standby and during the winter I have been mending by hand a piece of upholstered furniture – just for the sheer pleasure to be quiet and contemplate.

One day in October, when I was in the house alone, working on that furniture, I just listened and thought about the ‘silence’.  It was still warm and I had the windows throughout the house open.  Here is what I heard:

Constant noises – the washing machine downstairs, water through the pipes, the soft drone of traffic on the nearby arterial road out of Manchester, a zooming noise – possible hoovering by a neighbour.

Intermittent noises – sounds like someone hammering, a vehicle slamming on the breaks, a car swerving, children laughing, person calling out, person shouting, bottles clanking in a crate – perhaps someone loading up the recycling bin, a door within the house creaking open, bird song (various), the sound of the wind – leaves rustling and my favourite the sound of a leaf falling (well, maybe a twig).

So, not silent at all.  And how much we miss, when we don’t pause and listen!

Often, it is when I’m silent that I really have time to think, recall, remember and make sense of what has happened, what I have read, heard, seen, said and done.  And can learn from it.  This links to Harold Jarche’s ‘Seek, Sense and Share’ framework.

My 'sense-making' image of Harold Jarche's 'Seek, Sense, Share' Framework

Yesterday I began reading ‘Cat’s Eye’ by Margaret Atwood.  It begins by reflecting on time ‘You don’t look back along time but down through it, like water.  Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing.’

And that’s how it seems to me in those moments of silence and space that memories surface – sometimes old and often more recent.

One day in that silence in the autumn, I found myself seeing again my grandad’s hands – brief but vivid scenes of time spent with him when I was a child – he died when I was about 8.  His hands planting young leek plants, puddling them in and his thumbs and fingers firming the rich dark soil around the slender green slip.   Entranced, as he tied string around the neck of a jam jar to create a handle so my sister and I could collect and pick blackberries with him.  Stretching up to reach a shrub hanging over a redbrick wall of a garden and taking a cutting with the small olive green pruning scissors, I now have as my own – and my feelings of deep embarrassment at a church minister cutting at someone’s plant in the street!  You can tell that he influenced my love of gardening.

And sometimes in the silence, it is things that I have read – blogs and articles, or heard, questions asked and unasked, things I have said, things I wished I had said and things I wished I hadn’t said – that surface.  Sometimes connections are made or contradictions become clear – previously unnoticed.   Patterns emerge.  Ideas or new questions to ask or chasms of understanding appear.  Sometimes, it is possible to see how my actions contributed to something positive or played a part in something less successful and it is possible to identify different options, alternative courses of action that I could take in the future.  Reflections. Sense-making of the past, sense-making for now, sense-making for future actions.

But for me, none of that sense-making possible without silence and space.

Rachel Burnham

17/1/16

Burnham L & D Consultancy helps L&D professionals become even more effective.  I am particularly interested in blended learning, the uses of social media for learning, evaluation and anything that improves the impact of learning on performance.

Follow me on Twitter @BurnhamLandD

Butterflies, Stories, Change, Jazz

Butterflies, Stories, Change, Jazz

Rachel Burnham writes: Ever since I saw a wonderful photograph of a butterfly taken by Doug Shaw at the weekend and was in turn encouraged by him to photograph the ones at our allotment, I can’t get butterflies out of my mind.  Their wonderful flowing shapes, the variety of colours and patterns, the way they move, the contrasting textures between wings and body.  Butterflies on the brain!

And of course, it isn’t just their shape that inspires and entrances – they are so evocative in the way they represent ideas of change, personal growth and transformation.  It is easy to connect with butterflies – many of us will have as children folded a sheet of paper in two, placed splodges of paint and amazingly a butterfly emerged. Or again folded a paper in two and cut shapes out to create an outline of a butterfly.  Some of us may have repeated the process with our own children. You, like me, may even have studied the life cycle of the butterfly in Biology lessons.

I have my own butterfly story.  Many years ago, I represented the United Reformed Church at the Assembly of the World Council of Churches – it was a wonderful experience.  One of the things I remember from it was a huge artwork that hung at the back of the Assembly hall – it was an enormous patchwork made up of many, many pieces each made by a different church congregation in the host country, all illustrating the theme of the event.  At the close of the Council, the pieces were all untied and each one given to a delegate to take back to their own church.  My piece for my then church at High Cross, Tottenham was a beautifully appliqued butterfly – in this case representing ‘New Life’ or ‘New Beginnings’.

My three part drawing of this life cycle tells a story.  But looking at it now I can see many stories within it.  

It could be the story of the many CLDP students that I work with.  Coming to the programme hungry for knowledge, development and keen to develop their skills.  The pupa could be the reflection that they engage with during the programme.  And I certainly know many butterflies who have emerged & stretched their wings to go off and explore the world of L&D.  I am lucky to hear from many ex-students who continue to stay in contact and share their stories with me.

The butterfly’s story could be another way of looking at Harold Jarche’s Seek-Sense-Share model for PKM (Personal Knowledge Mastery).  The caterpillar is clearly in full ‘seek’ mode – curious & hungry - eating its way through all sorts of interesting blogs, tweets, posts, shares and likes.  Whilst in its cocoon, the pupa ‘senses’, filters, combines, contrasts, discerns before emerging to ‘share’ its unique wing patterns and take on the world.

Or it could be the story of my career – a keen & eager young L&Der devouring books, trying out new approaches – a very hungry caterpillar! Then feeling cocooned by the experience of motherhood and that desperate need to balance out competing priorities – safety, the need to earn and a limiting of professional challenges winning out.  But now – a new phase is entered on and I’m getting to spread my wings again!

What stories do you see in the butterfly’s experience?

Which brings me to jazz! Some years ago, I borrowed Toni Morrison’s novel ‘Jazz’ from my brother.  I thought it was going to be about jazz.  Then part way through, I had a Homer Simpson moment ‘Duh!’ – it wasn’t about jazz – it was jazz!  Toni Morrison had structured the novel just like a piece of jazz music, with the opening chapter providing an outline of the main elements of the story – the ‘head arrangement’ or ‘theme’ and then each subsequent chapter elaborating & improvising on this theme from the perspective of each of the key characters – a trumpet solo, sax solo, even the dreaded drum solo – if you like.  Just like with a piece of jazz music, we all have our own interpretations of our experiences or stories – sometimes we share an experience with friends, but still have our own perception of that story.  

That happened to me only this week.  In the course of a conversation, I suddenly felt the ground shift, bit like a minor shock from an earth tremor, as I suddenly shifted perspective and caught a glimpse of the world from another’s perspective.  A whole different story to mine.  Just for an instance.   

And as I reflected on this, I was able to see a new story for me.  I had been telling myself the story of my last few months in a particular way – with a particular narrative theme – it’s been a tough 18 months personally - but I could now hear it in a new way too.  A more resourceful, positive way. Like a jazz musician returning to a classic tune and finding new patterns, new depths, new ways of playing it.   

Like jazz musicians, we don’t have to play the same tunes in the same way – it is possible to do differently, improvise and hear fresh sounds.  We write our own music.

Butterflies.  Stories.  Change. And jazz!

Rachel Burnham

23 July 2014

Burnham L & D Consultancy helps L&D professionals become even more effective.  I am particularly interested in blended learning, the uses of social media for learning, evaluation and anything that improves the impact of learning on performance.

Follow me on Twitter @BurnhamLandD