While we don’t yet have the formal guest researcher program up and running, we did have a visit from our collaborator Jarrett Geenan this week. He’s working with Sigrid Norris on multimodal discourse analysis, and he was in the U.S. for an applied linguistics conference,  so he “stopped by” the Pacific Northwest on his way back from Dallas to New Zealand. Turns out his undergraduate and graduate work so far in English and linguistics is remarkably similar to Shawn’s. Several of the grad students working with Shawn managed to have lunch with him last week, and talk about our different research projects, and life as a grad student in the States vs. Canada (where he’s from), England (Laura’s homeland), and New Zealand.

We also had a chance to chat about the video cameras. He’s still been having difficulty downloading anything useful, as things just come in fits and starts. We’re not sure how the best way to go about diagnosing the issues will be (barring a trip for one of us to be there in person), but maybe we can get the Milestone folks on a screenshare or something. In the meantime, it led us to a discussion of what might be a larger issue, that of just collecting data all the time and overtaxing the system unnecessarily. It came up with the school groups – is it really that important to just have the cameras on constantly to get a proper, useful longitudinal record? We’re starting to think no, of course, and the problems Jarrett is having makes it more likely that we will think about just turning the cameras on when the VC is open using a scheduling function.

The other advantage is that this will give us like 16-18 hours a day to actually process the video data, too, if we can parse it so that the automated analysis that needs to be done to allow the customization of exhibits can be done in real-time. That would leave anything else, such as group association, speech analysis, and the other higher-order stuff for the overnight processing. We’ll have to work with our programmers to see about that.

In other news, it’s looking highly likely that I’ll be working on the system doing my own research when I graduate later this spring, so hopefully I’ll be able to provide that insider perspective having worked on it (extensively!) in person at Hatfield and then going away to finish up the research at my (new) home institution. That and Jarrett’s visit in person may be the kick-start we need to really get this into shape for new short-term visiting scholars.

I have just about nailed down a defense date. That means I have about two months to wrap all this up (or warp it, as I originally typed) into a coherent, cohesive, narrative worthy of a doctoral degree. It’s amazing to me to think it might actually be done one of these days.

Of course, in research, there’s always more you can analyze about your data, so in reality, I have to make some choices about what goes in the dissertation and what has to remain for later analysis. For example, I “threw in” some plain world images into the eye-tracking as potential controls just to see how people might look at a world map without any data on it. Not that there really is such a thing; technically any image has some sort of data on it, as it is always representing something, even this one:

 

 

Here, the continents are darker grey than the ocean, so it’s a representation of the Earth’s current land and ocean distinctions.

I also included two “blue marble” images that are essentially images of Earth as if seen from space, without clouds and all in daylight simultaneously, one with the typical northern hemisphere “north-up” orientation, the other “south-up” as the world is often portrayed in Australia, for one. However, I probably don’t have time to analyze all of that right now, at least not and complete the dissertation on schedule. The best dissertation is a done dissertation, not one that is perfect, or answers every single question! If it did, what would the rest of my career be for?

So a big part of the research process is making tradeoffs between how much data to collect so that you do get enough to anticipate any problems you might incur and want to examine about your data, but not so much that you lose sight of your original, specific research questions and get mired in analysis forever. Thinking about what does and doesn’t fit in the particular framework I’ve laid out for analysis, too, is part of this. That means making smart choices about how to sufficiently answer your questions with the data you have and address major potential problems but letting go and letting some questions remain unanswered. At least for the moment. That’s a major task in front of me right now, with both my interview data and my eye-tracking data. At least I’ve finished collecting data for the dissertation. I think.

Let the countdown to defense begin …

If you’re a fan of “Project Runway,” you’re no doubt familiar with Tim Gunn’s signature phrase. He employs this particularly around the point in each week’s process, where the designers have chosen their fabrics and made at least their first efforts at turning their design into reality. It’s at about this time in the process where the designers have to forge ahead or take the last chance to start over and re-conceptualize.

 

 

This week, it feels like that’s where we are with the FCL Lab. We’re about one-and-a-half years into our five years of funding, and about a year behind on technology development. Which means, we’ve got the ideas, and the materials, but haven’t really gotten as far along as we’d like in the actual putting it together.

For us, it’s a bigger problem, too; the development (in this case, the video booth as well as the exhibit itself) is holding up the research. As Shawn put it to me, we’re spending too much time and effort trying to design the perfect task instead of “making it work” with what we have. That is, we’re going to re-conceptualize and do the research we can do with what we have in place, while still going forward with the technology development, of course.

So, for the video booth, that means that we’re not going to wait to be able to analyze what people reflect on during the experience, but take the chance to use what we have, namely a bunch of materials, and analyze the interactions that *are* taking place. We’re not going to wait to make the tsunami task perfect to encourage what we want to see in the video booth. Instead, we’re going to invite several different folks with different research lenses to take a look at the video we get at the tank itself and let us know what types of learning they’re seeing. From there, we can refine what data we want to collect.

It’s an important lesson in grant proposal writing, too: Once you’ve been approved, you don’t have to stick word-for-word to your plan. It can be modified, in ways big and small. In fact, it’s probably better that way.

A reader just asked about our post from nearly a year ago that suggested we’ll start a “jargon board” to define terms that we discuss here on the blog. Where is it?, the reader wanted to know. Well, like many big ideas, sometimes they get dropped in the everyday what’s in front of our faces fire to put out. But astute readers hold us accountable, and for that, we thank you.

So, let’s start that board as a series of posts with the Category: Jargon. With that, let me start with accountability, then. Often, we hear about “being accountable to stakeholders.” Setting aside stakeholders for the moment, what does it mean to “be held accountable”? It can come in various forms,  but most often seems to be providing proof of some sort that you did what you said you would do. TA few weeks ago, for example, a reader asked for the location of the board that we said we would start, and it turns out, we couldn’t provide it (until now). For other times, it may be paying a bill (think of the looming U.S. debt ceiling crisis, in which we are being held accountable for paying bills), or it may be simply providing something (a “deliverable”) on schedule, as when I have to submit my defended and corrected thesis by a particular date in order to graduate this spring, or when you have to turn in a paper to a professor by a certain time in order to get full credit.

In the research world, we are often asked to provide progress reports on a yearly basis to our funders.  Those people or groups to whom we are beholden are one form of stakeholders. They could be the ones holding the purse strings or the ones we’ve committed to delivering an exhibit or evaluation report to as a contractor, making our client the stakeholder. This blog, actually, is the outreach we told the National Science Foundation we’d do to other stakeholders: students, and outreach and research professionals, and serves also as the proof of such outreach. In this case, those stakeholders don’t have any financial interest, but they do want to know what it is we find out, and how we find it out, so we are held accountable via this blog for those two purposes.

All too often accountability is only seen in terms of the consequences of failing to provide proof.

But, I feel like that’s really just scratching the surface of who we’re accountable to, though it gets a lot more murky just how we prove ourselves to those other stakeholders. In fact, even identifying stakeholders thoroughly and completely is a form of proof that often, stakeholders don’t hold us to unless we make a grievous error. As a research assistant, I have obligations to complete the tasks I’m assigned, making me accountable to the project, which is in turn accountable to the funder, which is in turn, accountable to the taxpayers, of which I am one. As part of OSU, we have obligations to perform professionally, and as part of the HMSC Visitor Center, we have obligations to our audience. The network becomes well-entangled very quickly, in fact. Or maybe it’s more like a cross between a Venn diagram and the Russian nesting dolls? In any case, pretty hard to get a handle on. How do you account for your stakeholders, in order to hold yourself or be held accountable? And what other jargon would you like to see discussed here?

-A simple hex map

-A bag of small rocks

-Two dozen tiny plastic dinosaurs

-Two 20-sided dice

-Nine six-sided dice

-100 poker chips

Deme‘s trial form is just about ready to emerge—marsupial-like—to finish its gestation outside the warm pouch of my imagination. Since its dramatic overhaul last year, the core concept has been consistent: a hex-grid tactical strategy game based on species interactions instead of the more traditional trappings of medieval fantasy and/or giant robot warfare.

The items listed above are the physical components for the game. Why tiny plastic dinosaurs? Because dinosaurs were the tiny plastic things Fred Meyer had on sale. At this early phase, it would be great to have a range of custom figurines to give the game any aesthetic properties I want, but ain’t nobody got time for that.*

This is prototyping, and if dinosaurs I have, dinosaurs I will use. The game, mind you, is not necessarily about dinosaurs. As a game, it is not necessarily about anything. I will tell people that a roll of the dice is a charge by a predator and a poker chip of a certain color is energy derived from food or an abstract representation of health. The dice roll could just as easily be a cavalry charge and the poker chips rubies, maps or small dogs. The elements that are most arbitrary are, in this case, perhaps the most important.

I’ll give you a personal example. When World War II first-person shooter games first became “a thing” with franchises like Call of Duty and Medal of Honor, I was a little put off. Making a game out of a real and recent conflict that caused so much lasting destruction and pain seemed crass… until I played a few titles. In most cases, the subject matter was handled with a level of respect and honesty I hadn’t expected, and much of that honesty was the recognition that this game is not like what happened, and no game ever could be. A game need not be instructive or technically realistic to spark interest and facilitate learning.

In basic mechanical terms, a historical shooter is very similar to a gonzo sci-fi shooter like Doom. The difference is in presentation—what we’ve decided the game is about. Doom, while challenging and entertaining, never left me thinking about anything of great human significance afterward. The Call of Duty franchise left me thinking of the reality behind its narrative.

The games were not meant to recreate the experience of war, but to let us talk about it. The cliché health packs and other FPS conventions, rather than appearing cheap and “unrealistic,” served as reminders that this was play—a safe, interactive diorama of something significant and terrible worth remembering. I found myself researching the Battle of Stalingrad and the human consequences of war for weeks after playing. I’d call that a free-choice learning outcome, and from a big-budget “recreational” game at that.

 

*Speaking naturally in front of a camera, especially following a stressful situation, takes a lot of courage. I think the funny thing about this video is not how Sweet Brown talks—though it’s often presented that way—but the fact that she nonchalantly lays bare and discards our unspoken expectations about how one speaks to a news crew, just by acting like a regular person. I have a huge amount of respect for that.

My dissertation is slowly rising up from the pile of raw data. After crunching survey data, working on checking transcriptions and of course working some inevitable writing this month, I’m starting the process of coding my video observations of docents interacting with visitors. I’ll be using activity theory and multimodal discourse analysis to unpack those actions, and attempt to decipher the interpretive strategies the docents use to communicate science.

This is the really interesting part for me here because I finally get the chance to break down the interpretive practice I’ve been expecting to see. However, what I’m still trying to work out at the moment is how micro-level I should go when it comes to unpacking the discourse and action I’ve observed. For example, in addition to analyzing what is said in each interaction, how much do I need to break down about how it’s said? For potential interpretative activities, where does that activity begin and end? There’s a lot of decisions to be made here, to which I need to go back to my original research questions for. I’m also in the process of recruiting a couple of additional researchers to code a sample of the data for inter-rater reliability of my analysis.

I’ve also been starting the ball rolling for some potential member check workshops with similar docent communities. The idea is to gather some feedback on my findings with these communities in a couple of months or so. I’ve been looking in to docent communities at varying aquariums in both Oregon and California.

So far so good!