I work in a cubicle farm. I work in a cubicle farm where we have company values that we’re all supposed to be supporting and personally displaying. One of our values is a truly noble one: innovation. In fact, we had a very large kick-off celebration today where those behind the product being launched were praised for their innovation. My company prides itself on the innovation of its employees.

However, innovation relies on two things: creativity and communication. These two concepts are often linked in a corporate setting, as it is often a brainstorming session that leads to some of the most creative ideas implemented by corporations. My company loves team meetings, so we have all sorts of organized time to brainstorm and create and innovate.

We also have a lot of non-structured problem-solving time, though. This takes place in our cubicle farm, in our own rows, in casual conversations with each other. The way my particular department is laid out, you may sit near a few of your own projectmates or teammates. You sit near more people who have nothing to do with either your project or your departmental team, and it’s a great set-up. I didn’t initially agree with it, but it’s amazing how often one person will be beating their head against a wall and another will come at it from their own project/team worldview and help solve it. It’s a boundaryless (see, another company value!) brainstorming solution. Because our cubicles are so small and squished together, we often don’t go directly to the person, we just talk a little bit louder to be heard through the thin walls.

Apparently, this is a problem. We are routinely reminded to use our “inside voices”, often by uncreative people who talk loudly about little or nothing. To bring down the noise is to cut my department (and the department that makes up the other part of our division) off from an invaluable resource: each other. (Ironically, we have a company value called “Valuing our people”. Doesn’t sound like we’re meeting that value, does it?) If we are forced to go and whisper to each other about things, we’ve shut out everybody else from benefiting from a possible solution to a problem affecting many of us. We also reduce the socialization factor that is a nice by-product of the cubicle farm. I don’t know that we’d all know each other on my row if we all kept to our projects and our teams.

It defeats the mixture that accidentally happened in my department. It defeats the human spirit. It defeats our company values.

I’ve probably shared this before, but when I was a nanny, I had a child in my care who hated reading. An avid reader myself, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around this concept and worked with the parents and his teachers to try to get him into reading. We did flash cards for outlaw words. We got him books on topics he liked (his bug book was particularly frightening).

This child was also a huge Pokemon fan, one-third of the reason why I couldn’t escape being inundated by a show that completely annoyed me. Every afternoon, he, his younger brother and I would sit down for half an hour and watch Ash and Pikachu pointlessly battle creatures. One day, he excitedly sat down in front of the television. His parents had taped an episode for him, and he really liked the episode. As a result, I’ve seen “Island of the Giant Pokemon” more times than any self-respecting adult ever should.

At first, it annoyed me. Then I noticed what he was doing. There is a scene in the episode where the Pokemon talk among themselves, planning to go find their humans. To anyone just listening to the episode (as I often do with the cartoons I willingly watch), the conversation was a combination of “pikachu”, “bulbasaur”, “charmander”, “ekans”, and “koffing”. However, someone was very kind. The scene is captioned so the conversation can be understood by those of us who don’t speak Pokemon.

My young charge would sit and read those captions, often pausing the scene so he had time to sound out words. And every time we watched the episode, he would entertain himself by reading the captions again. His baby brother found the whole thing very funny, but I was quite interested. The boy who hated reading was addicted to Pokemon.

It seems to me that I’ve read where other education professionals have noticed this activity with other children as well. I’m thinking that it is worth the effort to turn on captions for a low reader’s favorite shows.

I dazzled a young computer geek friend a couple of months ago when I successfully managed to break MS Outlook. It’s not an easy program to break, and yet I did it. I suppose I can attribute that to my deep rooted need to take everything apart to truly see how it works. So, my friend went to reinstall Outlook, only to find that I had the single most evil OS in the universe on my laptop. He graciously agreed to resolve a number of my problems at once by replacing ME with 2000 Pro if I was willing to give up my laptop for a couple of days.

So, I handed over my laptop and told him which programs I needed back. He nodded in that unhearing geek fashion, and I left my baby with him. A couple of days later, he called me to come pick up the computer. He was gracious enough to help me reinstall my ISP, Trillian, and RoughDraft. What he forgot to tell me was that he forgot to reinstall my fonts, Microsoft Publisher, and Microsoft ImageComposer (along with all of my Trillian logs, one of which has the password to my domain…oops!). I go through phases of desktop publishing, so being without Publisher wasn’t horribly crippling (except for the major project I was working on that I wanted to finish and distribute six weeks ago).

The crippling one was ImageComposer. I am a volunteer for a website’s userpics team. A rather active volunteer under normal conditions. It’s often amazed me how much I can do with ImageComposer. I even learned how to animate with it. So, I was sitting there, looking at our request backlog grow to epic proportions while I sat there helplessly looking at the graphics design program my friend had left me: Photoshop 7.

I have had Photoshop and its little friend ImageReady for several months now. However, attempts to just go in and play have been very fruitless, to the point that I shunned both rather actively. But a month ago, the userpics team was in over its head with some 25 requests sitting in the queue and everybody busy with school or other obligations. So I became determined to defeat my lack of knowledge. I took a couple of classes through work that, while they provided me with all sorts of wonderful technical and theoretical knowledge, taught me absolutely nothing really useful about how to use Photoshop 7. So I went looking for a reasonably priced book to help me out, and found the little $10 book published by Barnes & Noble. Lifesaver! Complete lifesaver!

Now, two weeks later, I’m actively back with my teammates trying to crank through requests, driving poor Photoshop to whiny fits of exhaustion. I cannot do everything with Photoshop that I could with ImageComposer (and I’m seriously lamenting the lack of fonts), but I can do enough to help us get nearly caught up. I still have much to learn, like the correct way to do certain things, but it’s a step in the right direction.

Two months later, I still want my programs and fonts back though!

I often look at the current culture around me and wonder how people a thousand years in the future will view us. In one respect, I may not have to wonder any more.

In a move that is reminiscent of oral tradition, businesses are realizing the strength of pooling the collective knowledge of employees into a technological resource to be accessed by everybody. The knowledge possessed by one person is retained after they leave the company, and can then be learned by someone who may never have known the first person by accessing the technological resource that the first person’s knowledge has been stored in. This process is known as knowledge management.

This is not all that dissimilar from the revered storytellers, druids, and clerics of the past. These community figures gathered knowledge from many, sometimes diverse, sources, and then passed that knowledge on to apprentices, bards, and initiates, who in turn passed it on. It’s the way we preserved so much of human history. The human touch makes it that much more powerful because it gives the information relevance.

Knowledge management starts with that same human component, but then incorporates a contemporary twist by using an electronic database (because we all know and understand that a library of history books is just as valid a database as anything on a computer). It would appear at this point that the information loses its humanity at this point, when in fact, it does not. One of the nice features of knowledge management is that the stored information can then be disbursed through electronic means, or through personal contact.

In a thousand years, when anthropologists look at us, will they look at this new take on an ancient practice and see it as part of the oral tradition continuing in a modern form? Will they see this as a further dehumanizing of the human race? Will they thank us for working to preserve what we knew? Will these attempts to archive what we know survive the thousand years to be discovered and analyzed?

Ever since I decided to become more serious about learning HTML, I have found it necessary to consider learning CSS as well. If you are unfamiliar with this term, CSS stands for Cascading Style Sheets, and represents a somewhat new line of thinking in web design. Actually, it’s really not that new, but even with endorsements from W3C it really doesn’t seem to have gone very far.

The simple theory here is nice. It involves standardization and accessibility. First, you implement the same standards across the Internet, regardless of what browser an individual may be using, making it possible for a web designer to create a website that is viewable by nearly anybody. Then, you simplify coding matters so that individuals with special needs (for example, those who use aural browsers) can enjoy visiting a website without hearing a lot of strange “noise” as their browser tries to make sense of a badly written piece of code. However, of those people who are taking a stand on the matter, the general consensus seems to be that you need to separate a website’s style from its content.

This does not appear to be a big deal on the surface. If anything, it’s a good move. Gather all of your website’s style formatting into one well-commented area, and in one move you’ve made your website load that much faster from page to page and removed the headache of searching through every page’s code trying to update or change the same piece of code. You can even create these style sheets to allow a page to print simply, conserving toner, or to allow your page to display correctly on a handheld device. Really, it’s quite a nice tool.

I was quite sold on the idea of putting all the style issues into one place when I started learning HTML and quickly started researching CSS. I’m not ashamed to admit it all went over my head almost immediately. To make matters worse, it’s very difficult to see a website’s CSS unless they are willing to provide a link to it, and many don’t. I work best when I can see an example and work off of it and then modify it beyond it recognition (and oftentimes feasibility. The joys of newbiedom!) The tutorials you find are often one section/chapter/side note in a book/online course/online tutorial on HTML, although I just found several paired with DHTML and XML.

Including CSS in these instructional materials doesn’t bother me. Indeed, you need to put it with something because it really can’t display on its own. It’s just a style sheet. What bothers me is that many of these seem to be very brief references that really don’t explain the syntax necessary to make the CSS work correctly. It’s very frustrating for a self-learner, even one who programmed for about two years in high school and college.

So, my quest to better understand and utilize CSS continues, in the hopes that somewhere out there I might find that one reference material that fills in the apparent gap in my understanding!

I had an interesting experience at Amtgard today. One of the more hyper children in the group decided he wanted to help out. It should be noted that this boy is a first grader who was recently labeled ADHD after a long fight by his parents to not let their son be labeled. At first, we just had him retrieving items, but then we gave him another task. We let him add the scores from various competitions. The numbers were all in fives. He figured each line out quickly and correctly, and enjoyed being so useful to the group.

This is not an isolated incident. About a year and a half ago, when the TCG Yu-Gi-Oh was first becoming popular, an older boy challenged me to a Yu-Gi-Oh duel. I had never played before, and it meant a lot to him, so I sat down across from him and let him teach me. Again, this is a great child who has been known to frustrate people no end, but here he sat, teaching me his new game and helping me keep track of my life points without so much as a calculator or a piece of paper and a pencil. I should have mentioned it to his parents. I am certain they would have been impressed.

I am slowly becoming of the notion that the Montessori philosophy is a good one to study. My formal teaching experience is mostly in informal settings, usually a museum or planetarium. I have stood accused by classroom teachers of contributing to “entertainment education”, a notion currently decried as the next great evil threat to education. To me, if there is any entertainment, it is only in the delivery, not in the message. The classes I teach have always involved manipulatives or engaged the students in discovery lessons or open discussions.

Am I entertaining? Some have said as much. However, I have never given up my message or lesson objective in the hopes of keeping the students engaged. If I were in a traditional classroom, I would be no less engaging. My classroom would be no less active or noisy. Are talking and doing effective learning methods? For audio and kinesthetic learners, most definitely! I enjoy the informal setting because it allows me the freedom and flexibility to step outside the conventional teaching methods to reach a student.

Learning happens everywhere at all times. It does not have to be stuffy. It does not have to quiet. It does not have to be rigidly structured. It can be fun. It can be entertaining (although I prefer the term “engaging”). I do not find myself a blight on the education profession. On the contrary, I find myself more opportunistic. I find myself able and ready to teach at all times, regardless of my situation, and to encourage someone else to grow in their own learning.

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