Toward an Understanding of Scalability, Innovation and Academic Culture
John Alexander
Manager of Instructional Technology
Information Technology and Communication
University of Virginia
11/15/6
Paper for the U21 Conference, delivered 11/29/06.
Argument:
Although “scalability” and more centralized support for “innovation” are increasingly common rationales in higher education to make projects more sustainable, nevertheless faculty ownership of prototype projects provides balance that is at the heart of innovation at the university.
Abstract
In this analysis, I shall work at two levels. At the level of metaphor and analogy, I hope to describe these issues in ways that are evocative and accurate, much like my faculty colleagues in the humanities might do. At the level of technological and business lexicon, I hope to describe and define issues like scale and innovation to clarify how they work and don’t work in a university setting.
There is a disconcerting tendency by administrators of higher education to ignore some key facets of our own academic culture. Concepts like “scalability” may apply to businesses and many businesslike aspects of higher education, but if they are carelessly imposed on teaching and learning, they not only do a disservice to education but also can drown out the still, small voice of the learner.
A related impulse, our common impatience with the slowness of change and the lack of innovation in teaching and learning, similarly threatens violence to the delicate combination of trust and risk that is at the heart of effective teaching and learning.
Academic culture is at least as much craft and art as it is business and science. Clear thinking and solid grounding in academic culture can serve as a vital touchstone as we test ourselves, stretch ourselves and strive to improve this ancient, all-too-human enterprise.
Scalability, which can be cynically defined as an infinite expansion of service with flat or decreasing budget or effort, applies unevenly to higher education, where personnel costs are always a sizeable majority of the budget. Channeling and supporting the genius of individual minds and hearts is the greatest challenge in higher education. Still, there are specific problems in the academy where scalability has great promise. I am currently working on such a project at the University of Virginia, the Virtual Exhibition Tool. This tool will allow faculty members to effectively marshal mountains of data, texts, images, and sounds, to craft rich instructional experiences for their students or to enable the students themselves to grapple with “original” sources, or their digital facsimiles. But even if this tool exceeds its goals by 200% it will still not take care of two of the major reasons that faculty shy away from using instructional technology more aggressively: time and rewards.
So scalability, which is directly applicable to some of these issues, brings others into sharp focus. Innovation, as we have approached it at the University of Virginia, is best when it is faculty driven, faculty “owned”. And given that the faculty members have extremely limited time and expertise in technology, those innovations will necessarily progress slowly. More slowly, at any rate, than we prefer.
I sometimes feel that the innovation expected by upper administration is more about fundraising than creating new knowledge or expanded learning opportunities. Our institution needs to regularly command the cover of various national publications with good news and beacons of hope that will make friends and alumni eager to write checks to support that brighter future. Innovation, then, becomes a part of expanding business operations because it provides the bright stars and hopeful stories that better support generous private giving. The business pressures are unavoidable (the State of Virginia, for example, continues to cut its funding for higher education even as its and the University’s own expectations and ambitions rise. Scalability, indeed.) But courageous leadership and a clear understanding of the scale and scope of academic culture are vital if we are to set and keep a pace that is sustainable, honorable and sound.
Innovation, Pedagogy and Pornography
There is a great deal said these days about innovation in instruction using technology. We generally assume that innovation is good and desirable because it leads to improved learning in our students, increased interaction between those students and their professors, greater satisfaction among the professors themselves. But defining innovation clearly and succinctly is more challenging.
Effective innovation, like Justice Potter Stewart’s opinion of pornography is something many of us may have trouble defining, but we know it when we see it. Although Justice Stewart’s opinion survives today as a running joke, he himself recanted that opinion as untenable. (Wikipedia, 2006) Would that more academics and higher education administrators would be similarly reflective, self-critical and rigorous!
In this paper, I will attempt to define “innovation in instruction,” along with closely related and similarly confusing concepts like “scalability.” Those definitions will be “academic”--meaning “engaged, intellectual, vital, discursive and sometimes contentious.” “Academic” is not meant to suggest one meaning in my American Heritage Dictionary, “…without purpose or use.”
Innovation in instruction has tremendous purpose if we understand it clearly and approach it realistically. I opened this paper with a comparison of innovation in instruction with pornography. The two may have more in common than we might suppose. Both can be fascinating or, by turns, a crushing bore. The fascination pertains when the innovations are consistent with the audience, thoughtfully and skillfully done and filled with rich, engaging content—fascination sets the bar very high.
This paper hopes to define that ground so that we will not only know it when we see it but know why as well. More ambitiously still, this paper means to shape policies that better support effective, innovative approaches. I agree, though, with Neil Postman who concludes that clear thinking is difficult, especially when it relates to technology. (1992) Apparently, clear thinking sets the bar as high as fascination.
Higher Education: Entrepreneurship, Ownership and Other Ships of State
The famous definition of a university by Clark Kerr from the 1970s still instructs me:
“A university is a collection of individual faculty entrepreneurs held together by a common grievance over parking.” (Wikipedia, 2006)
Kerr is playing on subtle connections between entrepreneurs and academics. Entrepreneurs create new solutions much as academics create new knowledge. But the word “entrepreneur” suggests more than innovation. It suggests ownership such as Rosovsky probably had in mind when he subtitled The University; An Owner’s Manual (1991). Granted, much of this ownership in the academy is in contention these days. Who “owns” a course? What claim does the institution have on the research output of a lab or even the book the professor writes? So leaving aside questions of who owns what, faculty entrepreneurs have a sense of ownership that persists even if that ownership is now more complicated, shared and contingent than it used to be. (Alexander, Reagan, 2004)
At the University of Virginia, we have emphasized this metaphor of ownership in one of our most important faculty development programs, one that my group was created to support. The Teaching + Technology Initiative (TTI) (Alexander, et al, 1998) has actively promoted its faculty development projects as faculty owned and faculty driven. In its 11 years of operation, it has supported over 65 Faculty Fellows. In those years, the model has shifted gradually from individual faculty entrepreneurs to partnerships, groups and more complex teams that include TAs, undergraduates, and others.
“Ownership,” here, means:
--invested rather than possessive…
--engaged rather than static…
The model, then, of the TTI projects as faculty owned is the best chance of keeping those projects alive, growing, evolving, given that the infrastructure is similarly growing and evolving. It takes the tenacity of an “owner” to keep his/her feet on shifting ground. It is important to note that there have been differing concepts of “ownership” at UVa. A contrary point of view has held that all such development as this is incomplete, prototypical and therefore unsustainable. Some professionals who hold that view have actually argued that all TTI projects should cease until scalable tools are available to support them. They have even argued that funds that would support those TTI projects should be deployed instead toward writing those scalable tools. (I’ll speak more about this conflict and its immediate consequences later.)
But it is my contention that both sides are needed. Scalable tools are needed to address certain technical problems. But at the same time, scalable tools will do nothing to address many of the other problems, such as developing the skills in the faculty to own and run their respective projects. Their ownership of their projects provides the best hope of sustaining those projects through their focused energies, intelligence, rigor and recruitment of talent. The question is where is the optimal balance between these extremes of centralized, scalable support and decentralized, entrepreneurial ownership by the faculty?
This year’s TTI project may be as good an example as we can fine of this balance. It is an interdisciplinary partnership across two schools, Architecture and Engineering. The project, ecoMOD, involves a course that is cross listed, and students and professors who are designing and building ecological, sustainable, affordable modular housing to solve real world problems ranging from the replacement of a trailer park in a nearby neighborhood in Charlottesville, Virginia to replacement housing in the more distant, Katrina-savaged Gulf Coast. The technological aspects of the course involve providing infrastructure, server space and software so that this large group of experts from very dissimilar professional backgrounds can track and manage their project. Given that the files they need to store, ranging from text to still image to digital video to plans and “as-built” CAD models can be large and the software varied and specialized, providing this infrastructure can be quite challenging at times. The project is therefore exploiting and pushing our university’s deployment of Sakai, an open source tool for collaboration and course management in higher education. (2006) EcoMOD is simultaneously an entrepreneurial and scalable project.
So who owns what in a project that is a course but produces a prototype product that will be sold by a non-profit, the Piedmont Housing Alliance? Yet, when you see the engagement of the group, the creative outpouring of their work and the beauty of their learning outcome, there is no doubt that there is ownership here--galore. (see Figure 1)
Figure 1. Screenshot from the ecoMOD website.
[Downloaded 11/6/06.]
In a screenshot from the project’s web pages, we see beauty of design both of the web page and the building it references. Such beauty demonstrates the sense of ownership in the project and its many concrete products.
These “ships” of the academy, the entrepreneurship, the apprenticeship and the sense of ownership are ships of state of higher education. They are the heart of the enterprise, and we forget to revere, respect and care for our heart at our peril.
Scalability and Dragonheart—Exposing our Warm Inner Selves
There has been much talk in the past two generations about scalability as it applies to higher education.
Wikipedia defines “scalability:”
In telecommunications and software engineering, scalability is a desirable property of a system, a network or a process, which indicates its ability to either handle growing amounts of work in a graceful manner, or to be readily enlarged. (Wikipedia, 2006)
There are several noteworthy things about this definition, but I’ll focus on the fact that it refers specifically to telecommunications and software engineering. While the university has telecommunications and software engineering aspects to it, the university is much more than those two aspects. We too commonly and too casually apply the term “scalability” to higher education as though the two activities were synonymous. Later in the definition, the authors note that scalability is “difficult to define.” Yet, despite that difficulty, high-level administrators are, with increasing frequency dismissing solutions, programs, and approaches as not being scalable.
This declaration generally marks the end of the discussion rather than a beginning of deeper consideration or even the beginning of a careful attempt to define the term.
In the movie, DragonHeart, (1996) the resolution of the plot hinges on the complex, lovable, and wise dragon, Draco, offering his life so that his shadow, the horrific King Eidon will die. To make himself vulnerable, he lifts the scales on his breast, exposing his otherwise invulnerable heart. (Wikipedia, 2006) This metaphor makes me think of scalability in a new light, as a horny, impenetrable defense that obscures from our view, from our scrutiny and understanding, the heart of our academic enterprise. Education, learning, inspiration, intuition, these experiences are powerful, yes. Hopeful, yes. Even transcendent. But, at the same time, they are fragile, delicate, exposed with difficulty, and once exposed, like Draco’s heart, easily pierced, and with fatal consequences.
I hope that we can begin to see scalability, like Draco’s scales, as something powerful, useful and necessary, but also see its limits as well. It is not the heart of the matter. The creation of the rich learning environment in higher education depends not only on scale(s) but also on the warm beating heart as well. But more than this, it also depends on the intelligence and courage and foresight of Draco himself, acting as the teacher, who saw what must be done and when. For the teacher is critical, seeing the moment, seizing its instructional possibility and bringing the students with her or him to the new level of understanding--at the heart of the issue!
So, moving from the metaphorical to the more concrete and practical, I’d like to reflect on a nascent project I’m involved with at the University of Virginia, which has both great promise as a scalable solution and which brings the limits of scalability at a university into sharp focus.
Usefulness of Scalability and Plans—A Nascent Case
We are beginning a one-year development project at the University of Virginia for an open source tool that will allow faculty to harness the power of databases to store their volumes of teaching and research materials and the power of websites to both mark up those data and to display them, whether in their respective classes, to their colleagues or for their students to work with directly in controlled, research-oriented projects. This tool, tentatively titled the Virtual Exhibition Tool (VET) is itself a teaching metaphor, calling attention to the fact that in an array of areas, faculty members, whether they are publishing scholarly material, lecturing in class or displaying information for students to work with in their respective research projects, are mounting virtual exhibitions on the web.
The plan for this tool can be summed up in this flow chart, a snapshot of our design group’s current thinking: (see Figure 2)
Figure 2. VET Project Diagram.
[Retrieved on November 7, 2006.]
Note that only the objects in gold currently exist. The lavender objects will be created in this current development project, with the yellow objects to be developed in the future. The red objects are being developed in a parallel and supportive initiative. This is both the kind of preliminary thinking that is required of scalable solutions and a stark reminder of what lies outside the bounds of scalability. For if you want to locate the individual faculty member and how he/she would approach and take advantage of the VET, you’d have to examine this diagram rather closely, and still you might find yourself more puzzled than enlightened.
This new project is just underway. We have successfully hired a skilled programmer. We have the budget for a second programmer, full-time, for one year. We have a design committee with an impressive combination of experience and technical understanding, to say nothing of strong connections with two of the most promising open source development projects affecting higher education: Fedora (2006) and Sakai. (2006) Beyond this we have collective experience and ambitions to win large grants to speed the development of this tool to maturity.
And what is perhaps most important, all of the members of this team have specific relationships with faculty projects, college teaching and the passion to deliver quality, innovative learning tools and materials in the classroom. But as good as this plan sounds, I’m reminded of the overconfidence of General Hooker, who on the eve of the battle of Chancellorsville stated:
“My plans are perfect. May God have mercy on General Lee, for I will have none.” (Wikipedia, 2006)
On the next day, General Hooker experienced the most crushing and lopsided defeat of the Civil War as Stonewall Jackson’s troops annihilated the Union flank. Overconfidence can be a killer. So without hubris, and filled with hope, we tackle this project.
But even if this tool exceeds our expectations by 200% it will still not solve what faculty have repeatedly said are the two most important reasons that they do not use instructional technology more aggressively: time and rewards. In terms of time, they simply lack the time necessary to master the range of new skills--from the skills to manage projects and complex teams of people to developing the digital content that will make their virtual exhibitions compelling and educational. In terms of rewards, it is not yet clear that doing this work will be rewarded in terms of either academic advancement or financial compensation. So, scalability is necessary, but not sufficient.
Until now, “scalability” has been loosely used to promote or dismiss programs and solutions in higher education. It should be used instead to strategically, discretely address specific, more narrowly defined problems that may respond to infusions of talent, hardware and software. But even if those solutions are found to be scalable, and even if the scalable solutions succeed, even exceed, the design expectations, we must be clear eyed about the real problems that face higher education--lack of funding.
Innovation and Increased Funding: Our Headquarters Where Our Hindquarters Should Be?
Innovation is, in some sense, central to higher education. It is, in the words of Frank Rhodes, the engine that creates the future. (2001) But, in recent years, that engine of innovation has been made to serve the university rather than generating the university itself. The upper administration needs something that compels private giving, something that is hopeful, upbeat, progressive. What better to fill that need than improvements in instruction and innovative uses of technology? There is a nearly inexhaustible hunger for these stories at my institution. In the School of Arts & Sciences alone, there are two monthly magazines, Arts & Sciences and OscarNews, discovering and publishing two magazines filled with such stories. There are similar venues in each of the University’s schools and that’s not to mention the University-wide publications. In each case, the publication is developed and supported by the Development operation to increase private giving.
You see, in the Commonwealth of Virginia, we have been experiencing ever lowering levels of state funding even as our ambitions and the expectations of the State have inflated. Twenty years ago, we thought it somewhat scandalous that a public university received less than half its budget from the state. But a lot has changed in the last two decades. Now we receive less than 9% of our budget from the state, and the number shrinks each year. Private giving has been a critical way of making up the difference, and we just launched the most ambitious capital campaign of any public, U.S. higher educational institution--$3 billion dollars. (Chronicle of Higher Education, 2006.) But as we know, it is very difficult to raise private gifts to support basic operations, and what could be more basic to the university than education and innovation?
General Hooker, quoted above for his hubris before the battle of Chancellorsville, made himself the butt of the wit of the Confederacy when he announced that his “headquarters were in his saddle.” The leadership of the Confederacy, ever ready to exploit the vulnerabilities of their foes with a bon mot, quipped that he had his headquarters where his hindquarters should be. (Wikipedia, 2006) It was an example of what underground hip hoppers today might call “flipping it.” And I wonder if we haven’t flipped our concepts of education and innovation these days.
What happens when innovation rather than education becomes a marketable commodity? We risk selling the sizzle without the steak. Language, when we mistake the one for the other, confuses and misleads until a wag comes along to expose our inverted orientation, our headquarters where our hindquarters should be.
Beyond “I like/don’t like it.”
One of my favorite teachers began “Analyzing Film” with the hope that we would get far beyond the all too common beginning and ending of discussions about film, the ubiquitous, “I liked/didn’t like it.” Or as it has been shortened by the iconic reviewers, thumbs up or down.
Now over thirty years later, I can say that I’m far beyond such simplistic reactions and still stand in awe of what he could do with a piece of chalk and the enthusiastic engagement of his students. Our conversations were sculptures, were poems, were my concrete understanding of the force of the imagination, of the rich unfolding of insight and of the effective power of an inspired teacher to command and reward the class’s rapt attention.
He began that class with a touchstone, something he came back to repeatedly, his working definition of great art. That definition held that great art always contained something ineffable, mysterious, something we could not fully explain. It was a useful device, for often in the course of the discussion, a question would arise that we could not resolve. And he would point to his definition, asking pregnantly if that unexplainable something might suggest something greater, toward this film as a great work of art. Sometimes the answer would be an obvious “No,” and we would apply ourselves more strongly to the discussion. Sometimes—even if the answer seemed like it could be “Yes”—the openness of the mystery would inspire us further.
I’m thinking now of his definition and his open-ended question as it applies to this topic. Is there anything great in these uplifting, inspiring, hopeful stories being churned out by development offices in quest of increased generosity from our devoted and already generous alumni and friends? What of the stories we grew up on in higher education of lives spent in dusty libraries delving deeply into the arcane and esoteric? What of the stories of dreams deferred? Of rewards delayed sometimes past death? Of dedication to a mystery past logic? Of exertion beyond reason? And of the unknowable, the ineffable, persisting?
What is our touchstone? Keeping in mind that a touchstone is something that revolutionized the concept of money, using a touchstone in Ancient Greece, one was able to verify the purity of the metal coin. The invention of the touchstone meant that forgeries could be easily and reliably detected. By extension, the metaphorical use of touchstone means any physical or intellectual measure by which the validity of a concept can be tested. (Wikipedia, 2006) Generally, the touchstone in higher education contains logic, rationality, and the scientific method. But I contend that there are other touchstones as well. They include and embrace intuition, imagination, transcendence, and non-rational ways of knowing. Each of our touchstone kits is personal, tailored to our varied intelligiences and predilections, our energies and our experience. And our kits are unlike those of the sciences:
“Modern touchstone kits include the touchstone tablet proper, flasks of acids graded for standard alloys — e.g. 18K (karat) (75%) gold, 14K (58%), etc. — and priming pencils made from the standard alloys.” (Wikipedia, 2006)
Our touchstone kits by contrast are idiosyncratic and continuously updated as our experience and skills expand.
So when we hear someone dismissing a new approach with “It’s not scalable” or “It’s not innovative” I hope we’ll have the touchstone kit to decipher when this is code for “I don’t like it.” But beyond that, our kit will show us the value of the ore or the alloy, the worth of the metal itself, and give us the metal to speak, to testify about our own unique findings, to deepen our own discussion and raise ineffable questions. For in fact the reality of the innovations we see before us are too subtle, too varied, too rich and complex to have us settle for a kit that only diagnoses the standard alloys.
Pushing and Pulling the Future
A scientist friend of mine says that his job, every day, is to muster sufficient impatience, smoldering rage, and urgency to push along every detail of his research. He embodies the sense of ownership that characterizes the faculty. That sense of ownership has traditionally served the university well. If the university is to continue to be the engine that creates the future, this type of ownership must continue. But his ire has been increased by a purportedly scalable system, a business operations system that has been activated in his department with rules that researchers must have three “quiet days” each month—days when they can have no financial transactions. His ire, then, is raised because this scalable system actually makes his job impossible. And so he spends his time scheming ways around the system, hording, swapping with and, if all else fails, stealing from his colleagues. So the system siphons off some part of his ability to innovate even as it hampers and thwarts his work. Clearly, a system, however scalable it may be, can actually impede innovation.
Quite apart from that frustration, many of us feel impatient with the slowness of change and the lack of innovation in teaching and learning (Ayers, Grisham 2003). But if we do not think clearly about this issue, we risk violence to the delicate combination of trust and risk that is at the heart of effective teaching and learning.
I think it was that impatience that led to a decision by high-level administrators this past year to launch the VET tool development project I mentioned earlier. But the way they conceived of funding that decision reveals some of the conflicts the academy is currently experiencing. One of the vital positions in my group was re-purposed. Where the professional had been, like me, an academic who helped to bridge between faculty and technology, the new person would be a “heads-down” programmer. And the budget to hire a second programmer for one year was found by turning down three of the four TTI awards that would normally have been funded for this year. In times of flat or declining budgets, this one-year decision was seen as desirable because it would result in the base functionality of a scalable tool. The permanent, heads-down programmer, the reasoning
Went, will continue to improve and build on this base level of functionality.
But, as I have tried to demonstrate, the tool itself will not solve all the problems in this situation. Faculty have regularly said that they are cautious about using technology in their teaching because of a lack of time and rewards. The TTI program, in fact, was designed to address the first of those issues, even as it has developed a cohort of knowledgeable, effective faculty to address the latter problem.
Pressures on higher education are severe; our expectations both imposed from outside and by ourselves, are ever greater. And a disconnect between the pedagogically focused decisions of the individual instructor and the financially focused decisions of upper administration has been discussed at least since Schramm’s seminal work in 1977. (Cooper, 1978).
We need everyone’s greatest creative energies to survive and advance as well as his or her impatience, smoldering rage, and sense of urgency. As we have learned from multicultural studies, tapping into those creative energies is very difficult, easily thwarted and, once we make a miss-step, hard to recover from. Now that we have miss-stepped, repeatedly, the margin of error is narrowing. The role models for success are few.
But by the same token, crises have a remarkable way of focusing the mind and heart. There is ample reason to be hopeful, to put our best efforts forward, even if the evidence for caution seems to outweigh that for optimism. We may find hope in Rebecca Solnit’s hope in the dark. In her recent book, she argues that we must expand our sense of history, be alert to the subtle connections of cause and effect, and stay engaged. Making change is a long, slow process requiring our best and most creative work over the long haul. As she says, “It is always too soon to go home.” (2006)
An excellent example of both a success and a reason for hope is Ed Ayers’ course at UVa, “The Rise and Fall of the Slave South.” This course, which began as a project with the TTI program, taught to 18 students, has now expanded to be taught to 180. At a recent plenary at the Reinvention Center Conference, Ayers described the ways this course takes full advantage of the research university. It makes history come alive, as students must research the historical records in the database and analyze events and episodes they find there. This original research makes the students keenly aware of how complex and how challenging history can be. Thus, the 180 students experience more than a lecture; they have direct experience with primary historical materials. During the first time this course was offered, the students annotated over 3,000 events in the database. Ayers also announced proudly that colleagues will teach related courses at other universities all over the country next year using this same database; so the richness of the database will grow as students from other regions interact with and add intellectual value to it.
But, as Ayers himself said, this solution is not scalable. By that he was referring to both the extraordinary effort required (He, his TAs and several library professionals worked countless hours to prepare the database.) and the fact that the software is less than rock solid. (He related a harrowing anecdote from the week before when the database suddenly and without notice refused to accept the postings of this semester’s students. Some hours of agony were expended before they realized that hidden codes from Microsoft Word docs were clashing with and crashing the database itself.)
But there was still another reason that this course was not scalable, revealed as Ayers publicly announced that he would soon leave the University of Virginia to become the next President of the University of Richmond. (Gruenloh, 2006) This reminds me that a project, however scalable it may seem, may derail when a key individual leaves. In this case, Ayers’ own sense of investment and ownership will be required to keep this project alive and growing. Not only has Ayers himself demonstrated this kind of tenacity throughout his career, but so have our dozens of past TTI Fellows. (Alexander, Reagan, 2004) (This example of distributed solutions having scalable-like effects is something I plan to analyze in a subsequent paper.)
In conclusion, scalability, though hard to define and fragile, does work and will alleviate some otherwise intractable issues. But it is not a panacea. Universities must devote more time and resources toward these scalable solutions than they have to date. But at the same time, they must support smaller, more prototypical projects. If the University is the engine that creates the future, discreet, faculty owned projects are the fuel that sparks that engine and gives us the juice to inspire and guide the larger, more scalable solutions.
Innovation (though the pace is maddeningly slow) and progress (however erratic) are happening and will continue provided we allow and encourage faculty ownership that is essential for ongoing engagement and growth.
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