ASTD’s T&D for January includes E-Learning: What’s Old is New Again, by Allison Rossett and James Marshall.  They wondered what e-learning looks like in the real world and surveyed nearly a thousand practitioners. In her book on training needs analysis, Rossett talks about actuals and optimals-finding out how things really are, and determining what they could be.  She and Marshall take a similar approach here.  They summarize responses about how things are, e-learning-wise.  And they speculate about how things could be. I think the article’s worth reading in full, especially for people who don’t work in corporate or organizational settings (two-thirds of the respondents do).  I agree that for many people, the workplace is changing, as is the definition of work.  At the same time, most of my own clients have been and are large organizations with multiple locations, often with a significant effort to provide structured learning (a term I prefer to "formal"). I was especially struck (not to say "depressed") by the last response in the first of several charts in the article: Our structured training uses realistic situations, encourages choice, supports learning from that choice — less than "some of the time?" Sadly, I think that’s accurate, and a true indictment for the organizations in which this happens.  Formal training departments may be complicit, but so too are organizational leaders.  Often, in the aeries just below C-level executives, there’s a touching faith in magic beans-nice, clear solutions to nagging problems that don’t look like they’re the organization’s real business.

You can thank my mother for this.  She gives me a subscription to National Geographic for my birthday.  Each year she asks if I’d still like to get it.  Here’s one reason I always answer "yes." The January 2010 issue includes A Better Life with Bionics.  Joel Fischman’s article  starts with Amanda Kitts (pictured at right ), who lost most of her left arm in an auto accident in 2006.  Kitts one of the people on the front lines of bionics because of her collaboration with the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago’s Todd Kuiken. Traditional prosthetic arms, the article says, rely on cables: the individual presses a lever on a harness to make one of three movements of the pincer hand.  In Kitts’s case, Kuiken "rewired" nerves that used to go all the way down her arm.  That’s reinnervation (New York Times graphic). The nerves started in Kitts’s brain…which holds a rough map of the body…. In an intricate operation, a surgeon rerouted those nerves to different regions of Kitts’s upper-arm muscles… "By four months, I could actually feel different parts of my hand when I touched my upper arm.  I could touch it in different places and feel different fingers," [says Kitts.] That was the start.  Kitts then received a new bionic arm with electrodes that could pick up electrical signals from those muscles.  How does it know which signals?  Because Kitts also has a phantom arm-a set of electrodes controlling a virtual arm in a computer-that RIC’s Blair Lock uses to fine-turn the connection between muscle signal and the desired motion. So, how does it do?  Here’s Kitts in the lab.  (Note: there’s no sound in this video.) Related items: Amanda Kitts’s Patient Story (from the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago) Prosthetic Limb Advance (from NPR’s Science Friday; includes video of bionic arm in use) The Bionic Body (interactive graphic at the National Geographic) In New Procedure, Artificial Arm Listens to Brain (New York Times, Feb. 10, 2009)

Gathering material for a post later this month, I came across this video of Capercaillie’s Karen Matheson.  Fear a’ Bhàta may date to the late 18th century.  I first heard it perhaps 15 years ago, and only later learned that my mother sang it as a child. (Gaelic fear, man, sounds a bit like the English word fair. In the chorus, because the singer is addressing the boatman, the case changes and the word sounds more like English ear.) Fhir a’bhàta, na ho ro eile Fhir a’bhàta, na ho ro eile Fhir a’bhàta, na ho ro eile Mo shoraigh slàn leat ’s gach àit’an téid thu Boatman, o ho ro eile Boatman, o ho ro eile Boatman, o ho ro eile A fond farewell wherever you go Is tric mi ’sealltainn o’n chnoc a’s àirde Dh’fheuch am faic mi fear a’bhàta An tig thu an-diùigh no’n tig thu a-màireach? ‘S mur tig thu idir gur truagh a tà mi I often look from the highest hill To try and see the boatman Will you come today or tomorrow? If you don’t come at all I will be downhearted Tha mo chridhe-sa briste, brùite ‘S tric na deòir a’ ruith o m’ shùilean An tig thu a-nochd no’m bi mo dhùil riut No’n dùin mi’n dorus le osna thùrsaich? My heart is broken and bruised With tears often flowing from my eyes Will you come tonight or will I expect you Or will I close the door with a sad sigh? ‘S tric mi ‘faighneachd de luchd nam bàta Am fac’ iad thu no ‘bheil thu sàbhailt’ Ach ’s ann a tha gach aon dhiùbh ‘g ràitinn Gur gòrach mise ma thug mi gràdh dhut I often ask people on boats Whether they see you or whether you are safe Each of them says That I was foolish to fall in love with you

I’m trying to remember the last time I looked something up in the phone book.  Honestly, I have no idea.  I do remember the last time I tried to remember.  It was a year ago, when the 2009 phone books arrived at my house. Which means the 2010 books arrived today. A year ago, I took the new books up to my office, where I kept them.  As I took the old books out, I realized I hadn’t touched them since I’d put them away a year ago.  I simply don’t use the phone book. Things were different this year — the books go in the built-in desk in the remodeled kitchen.  Looking at new and old editions of the Yellow Pages,  I realized that I’m not the only one who doesn’t use the phone book  (2010 book is on the right): Nothing remarkable (other than proof that marketing has completely trumped esthetics).  Notice the thickness, though: First Class Plumbing LLC has stayed true to Verizon, though I have to admit it’s the first time I’ve noticed there was an ad on the bottom edge of the phone book.  For those who prefer hard numbers: The new Yellow Pages (lower part of the picture) has a page count 13% lower than the old one for stuff that matters-the actual listings, as opposed to filler like seating plans for stadiums. No real surprise here, just mild bemusement as I observe the Changing of the Phone Book ritual.  I realize that many people still do rely on the phone book-not everyone’s running around with a smartphone.  Many more, though, turn online for their first-choice source of information.  Inertia may keep the books coming for a long time yet, but friction’s going to keep whittling down their size.

The New York Times reports on an analysis of 32 million user passwords.  Someone stole them from RockYou, which helps people use sites like Facebook and MySpace; the list was posted online.  As one researcher commented, a list this size is "the mother lode" for examining user habits. Imperva, a data security firm, has published highlights of its  analysis of the passwords.   The chart on the right is taken from Imperva’s analysis. Remember, the group was roughly 32,000,000 — which means that nearly 1% (290,731 individuals) used "123456″ for their password. If you add up all the "123-" variations in the top 10, you have 488,878 people who chose consecutive numbers starting with 1 as a password. The Times article notes that 20% of the account holders-6.4 million people-used only 5,000 different passwords.  (Number 5,000 in terms of popularity was "tigger123."  That’ll keep the hackers away.) I’m writing this on Thursday night, following a #lrnchat discussion on workgroups with little connectivity or tech-savvy.  Granted, the RockYou account holders probably had personal rather than workplace goals in mind.  At the same time, I’ll argue that their password selections reflect some of their own tech-savvy… or at least their actual performance, regardless of any theoretical savvy. Which means that "strong password training" probably won’t solve on-the-job security shortcomings.  People might still use weak passwords because: They don’t have an easy way to generate strong ones (like this one that includes a mnemonic). They have too many different passwords to recall. Nothing bad happens immediately after they choose a weak password. In a work setting, imagine combining the third and first points: a system or website tells you (politely but candidly) that your password isn’t secure, then offers you help in creating one that is.  The result probably won’t be "abc123″ or "qwerty."  A more practical problem is that the result’s going to be hard to remember, which increases the likelihood that someone will want to write the password down. I suspect that even the "tech-savvy" are tempted to cycle through maybe five or six pet passwords, in the same way that a lot of people list "regular backups" as part of their digital religion while rarely engaging in the practice.    

Harold Jarche posted a great set of slides on complexity, the web, and business.  I’ll get out of the way and let him explain: Net Work View more documents from Harold Jarche.

I try not to let January 25th pass without a nod to Robert Burns.  Lately I find good counsel in his Address to the Unco Guid, or the Rigidly Righteous My Son, these maxims make a rule,An’ lump them aye thegither;The Rigid Righteous is a fool,The Rigid Wise anither:The cleanest corn that ere was dight (sifted)May hae some pyles o’ caff in; (bits of chaff)So ne’er a fellow-creature slightFor random fits o’ daffin. (folly) — Solomon: Eccles. ch. vii. verse 16. O ye wha are sae guid yoursel’,Sae pious and sae holy,Ye’ve nought to do but mark and tellYour neibours’ fauts and folly!Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,  (nicely running mill)Supplied wi’ store o’ water;The heaped happer’s ebbing still, (even though the hopper is ebbing)An’ still the clap plays clatter.  (it’s making lots of noise) Hear me, ye venerable core,As counsel for poor mortalsThat frequent pass douce Wisdom’s door  (sober Wisdom’s)For glaikit Folly’s portals:  (thoughtless)I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,Would here propone defences-Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,  (stupid tricks)Their failings and mischances. Ye see your state wi’ theirs compared,And shudder at the niffer;  (contrast)But cast a moment’s fair regard,What maks the mighty differ;  (what accounts for the difference)Discount what scant occasion gave,  (take away your luck)That purity ye pride in;And (what’s aft mair than a’ the lave),  (often more than all the risk)Your better art o’ hidin.  (your greater skill at concealment) Think, when your castigated pulse  (If even your often-punished pulse)Gies now and then a wallop!  (still jumps at times)What ragings must his veins convulse,That still eternal gallop!Wi’ wind and tide fair i’ your tail,  (with the wind and current in your favor)Right on ye scud your sea-way;  (you glide over the waves)But in the teeth o’ baith to sail,  (sailing against both)It maks a unco lee-way.  (makes for an uncommonly offcourse voyage) See Social Life and Glee sit down,  (sit down, as in to drink)All joyous and unthinking,Till, quite transmugrified, they’re grown  (they’ve turn into)Debauchery and Drinking:O would they stay to calculate  (oh, if only they’d wait and figure)Th’ eternal consequences;Or your more dreaded hell to state,  (what you fear worse)Damnation of expenses!  (the cost) Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,Tied up in godly laces,Before ye gie poor Frailty names,Suppose a change o’ cases;A dear-lov’d lad, convenience snug,A treach’rous inclination-But let me whisper i’ your lug,  (in your ear)Ye’re aiblins nae temptation.  (maybe you’re no temptation) Then gently scan your brother man,Still gentler sister woman;Tho’ they may gang a kennin wrang,  (a little wrong)To step aside is human:One point must still be greatly dark, -The moving Why they do it;And just as lamely can ye mark,How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, ’tis He aloneDecidedly can try us;He knows each chord, its various tone,Each spring, its various bias:Then at the balance let’s be mute,We never can adjust it;What’s done we partly may compute,But know not what’s resisted.

Collaborative Enterprise’s blog carnival this month looks at formalizing the informal-are there ways to deliberately harness social media to foster learning without losing the (presumed) value of personal connection? Sure. Now, I tend to slightly resist two of the implications I see here.  First, while it’s true that "training, education, and schooling are not learning," I don’t think it follows that learning can’t occur where these are present.  And second, learning did not start happening only after the invention of internet-based social media. I know that Harold Jarche doesn’t think that, and I’m pretty sure Frédéric Domon doesn’t, either.  I just wanted to make my thinking explicit. I’ve been watching the Winter Olympics and thinking about how it combines individual and organizational goals.  And just as I write this, I see multiple organizations that aren’t all in a single hierarchy: Small, individual sport groups (German women’s bobsled) Related-sport groups (sliding sports) National teams (Germany) Judges, referees, and other arbiters Timekeepers, scorekeepers Coaches Trainers Volunteers Fans Reporters, writers, bloggers, and other who opine Local, national, international Olympic officials Technicians Security Sponsors Donors You couldn’t ever satisfy all these groups, let alone their subgroups and individual members-but they find enough common ground to bring about an Olympics. I see a dynamic for the competitors: each has his or her personal goal, but each had to fit into a larger structure, especially but not exclusively for team sports.  If you want to compete in Nordic combined, you agree that your performance on the jump will determine your starting place in the cross-country element. Since we’re talking athletic competition, psychomotor skill comes into play, and "training" (in the sense of focused attention, demonstration, feedback) plays a major role.  You do learn as you train-by which I mean, not only do you build the muscle memory and automatic physical behavior, but you also refine and deepen awareness and the potential to respond to outside stimuli. Another thought came to mind when I was getting annoyed by local-news people focusing relentlessly on medal count: so-and-so "had to settle for silver" (because she was favored to win gold, but didn’t); someone else "won a stupendous bronze" (because he performed much better than expected). Those phrases got me thinking about how, if you work within a large organization, you need to find ways to align your personal goals with the organization’s in a way that’s authentic for you and helpful to the organization.  In part, it’s the old concept of the king’s shilling: if you’re accepting the paycheck, you’re granting the organization’s right to set and pursue its goals and to ask you to help achieve them. When you can’t ethically do that, it’s time to get out. Another point of view emerged when I was reading an obituary for jockey and mystery author Dick Francis, who died this week.  He wome some 350 races in a nine-year career, and rode as jockey for the Queen Mother’s horse in the 1956 Grand National-where his horse, in the lead and 50 yards from the finish, suddenly collapsed.  In his autobiography, Francis wrote: I heard one man say to another a little while ago [4 or 5 years after the race], "Who did you say that was?  Dick Francis?  Oh, yes-he’s the man who didn’t win the National." I’m sure Francis would have love to win it, just as every Olympian would love to win the gold.  But individuals and even organizations often need to reframe their goals, to redefine what success means. In the workplace, I think that means organizations have to work harder at finding ways to match their goals with those of individuals within the organization.  I once worked across the hall from an ambitious young guy.  He had some "rules for success" on his wall, including "love the business." Me, I didn’t love the business-and I can think of at least one boss who’d agree.  But often I did love helping the customer perform better, and that didn’t mean beating him to death with PowerPoint.  It sometimes meant working with him to apply performance-improvement strategies while calling them "transfer of training," because at the time helping that transfer occur was a lot more important than fretting about jargon. CC-licensed photo: Olympic colors by kk+ / Kris Krüg.

My maternal grandfather spoke Scottish Gaelic; it was his first and his preferred language.    He’d sit on his sunporch with a few friends (including my paternal grandfather) and construct Gaelic words for modern devices that weren’t in Gaelic dictionaries.  And he maintained that Gaelic was the language spoken in the Garden of Eden. I’ve always wished that I could could speak it.  Gaelic could be a bridge not only to the past but to a culture I know little about.  The reality for me, though, is that I don’t have that bridge and am not likely to work at constructing it.  The few phrases I can muster, the little I can comprehend, are like pieces of board that get me across a few gaps. Yes, I could take online courses, or turn to groups like An Comunn Gàidhealach Ameireaganach (the Gaelic Society of America), where I found a lively discussion about teaching Gaelic on LiveMocha. The fact is, though, that I don’t have time or energy to get to a level of Gaelic proficiency that would satisfy me.  "Speaking Gaelic," for me, is shorthand for a warren of skills. I’m pretty good at English; I’ve got some ability in French.  If I were to start another language, I’d want to be able to read it, at least at newspaper level, and to hold conversations in it like conversations I’d want to have in English.  I’m much likelier to try that for Spanish-though the idea of Chinese intrigues me. All of which has to do with individual goals and definitions of "learning a language."   One person might be happy simply to read, and have no concern about speaking.  As Henry Beard noted, nulli adsunt Romanorum qui locutionem tuam corrigant (there aren’t any Romans around to correct your pronunciation). At first glance, the goal of "learning a language" seems obvious-but when you poke a bit, you uncover all kinds of reasons, from getting into grad school to picking up romantic partners.  And, of course, languages are messy. One reason for that mess, says Arika Okrent, is that nobody invented human languages.  They weren’t designed (much to the dismay of the Language Police).  As she asks,  "Who invented French?" A linguist, Okrent recently published the strangely fascinating In the Land of Invented Languages.  She’s studied a daunting number of languages deliberated created, of which Esperanto and Klingon are perhaps the most widely know… or spoken. I think of learning as that which you’ve stored, retrieved, and then applied to some situation.  You recognize a spot on the map as France.  You’ve noticed that the slogans on the Olympic ice (with glowing hearts / des plus brillants exploits) aren’t the same idea at all.  You’ve said something spontaneously and correctly in another language. Okrent notes that Esperantists "are motivated by the goal of fostering peace by bridging language barriers."  For them, Esperanto is a means to an end.  They enjoy their language (they even have rock songs in it), but they’re confused by the complete lack of purpose for Klingon. In part, she suggests, that’s because the goal of the Klingon speakers is so different from that of the Esperantists. Klington is a type of puzzle that appeals to a type of person.  It is difficult, but not impossible, formed from the stuff of real language, just strange enough, just believable enough, small enough that you can know every word, the entire canon, but flexible enough to lend itself to the challenge of translation… What are Klingon speakers doing?  They are engaging in intellectually stimulating language play.  They are enjoying themselves.  They are doing language for language’s sake, art for art’s sake, and like all committed artists, they will do their thing, critics be damned. CC-licensed bridge image adapted from a photo by Unwrite These Pages / Jared Winkel.

Apt, somehow, that I learned about the demise of Training magazine via Twitter. Though "via Twitter" is misleading.  I learned about the closing from Jane Bozarth. Twitter’s just how the news arrived; it’s the way Jane and I usually connect.  You wouldn’t say "I learned about it by phone" unless there were some unusual significance to the phone itself-as in, that’s how you found out you’d been laid off. For a long time, especially when Ron Zemke and Jack Gordon were among its editors, Training was by far my favorite professional magazine.  Training and Development had too much ASTD superstructure showing.  While Performance Improvement often had solid content, the gems were often larded with academic or HPT jargon and boxed in a bargain-basement layout. It’s been a long time since I subscribed to any of these.  They all ended up on the wrong side of my cost-benefit divide for me.  As for Training in particular, I wasn’t aware it was still being published.   Hence, gerontoprise, a word suggested by Caroline Kliemt in an email conversation: surprise at learning that something has just died-because you didn’t know it was still around. (I could have used this word in 1989, when I learned of the death at age 101 of Sir Thomas Sopwith, as in the World War I fighter plane, the Sopwith Camel.) What I valued in professional magazine pieces was most often some combination of depth (as in detail), relevance (fit what what I was working on or interested in), and clarity.  I also appreciated combining "here’s what’s new" with a refusal to drool over bandwagons.  Training could do that well, 10 or 15 years ago. What I disliked?  The pauses.  Once you read an issue, you had nothing more till the next one.  And, for the most part, you as an individual had no voice in what topics might occur; you were relying on the editors.  In the case of Training, I did note an apparent abandonment of seriousness as the publication went through new management, lost experienced staffers, and seemed less and less interested in connecting practice to theory. Not that I need five pounds of theory per day.  Connecting practice to theory (having a basis for doing what you do, other than "feels good for now") can help you avoid hopping onto too many of those bandwagons.  (As Claude Lineberry once said, "Computer-based training isn’t the answer.  Computer-based training is a question.") I do think Training was a true resource, especially if you were new to the "learning profession" and doubly so if you were pretty much the only one in your organization doing what you were doing.  Like the defunct TRDEV-L listserv, Training was a step toward a virtual community. You’ve got many more options for community now, which helps explains why the magazine folded.  One corollary, though, is that  you’ve got to wire up those connections yourself.  You need to think about where you can nourish and expand your professional interests and passions: blogs, Facebook, Twitter, news feeds, virtual conferences, face-to-face conferences, whatever. But that’s true for any valued network in your life, I think. CC-licensed images: Going-out-of-business photo by Unhindered By Talent / Nic McPhee. Saskatchewan telephone image by Colros / Colin Rose.