This post is in
response to an article in The Chronicle of Higher
Education—which is (sort of) the trade journal of college and
university teachers in the USA—by author
Lee Vinsel. The title of the article in the Chronicle
(that's what it's called by education insiders) is almost the same:
Design Thinking is a Boondoggle.
A boondoggle
is something (i.e. some activity or idea) that looks
a lot more useful than it is. To save you time, I must confess right
now that I think I partially agree, and I will put in a few jokes at
the end, just so you will keep coming back for more entertainment
(since wisdom is not forthcoming). Unfortunately the Chronicle
article is a "premium" article, which means that they try
to keep it hidden from non-subscribers. You could Google the title,
and find your way to the article; unfortunately I myself can't give
you an accurate picture of the argument of the author, since I have
been disallowed from reading it repeatedly. You can, however, follow
most of the ideas there—from the perspective of a Design
Thinking supporter—by going
to this
article instead. You will learn a lot about how susceptible you
are to this sort of rhetoric, by examining your thoughts once you
finish reading, and especially if you manage to read the Chronicle
article too.
[This is tricky. What
we're dealing with is how our pre-conceptions influence our
understanding of new information. Let's take the risk, and make some
basic information available, so that at least our notions about
Design Thinking is definite, because Design Thinking
does look deceptively like something we should be able to
understand, without further clarification. It is not.]
Design Thinking
(as I understand it) was a name given to a way of thinking
about design, or designing, as
far back as the 1960s, and over the next several decades, codified
into a five-phase routine, as described in the Interaction Design
Foundation article (linked in the second paragraph). The five steps
will give you an excellent idea about what it's all about:
Empathize
– really understand
what the design requirement is (or what the customer wants). I think
this is probably one of the most valuable insights contained in this
way of looking at design.
Define
– (I misread this at first) Carefully state the task at hand. While this is not an earth-shaking insight, it certainly is something important to do, because a lot of trouble can flow from everyone concerned not being on the same page as to what they're setting out to do.
Ideate
– This is about finding ideas to solve the problem. Even outside
this particular view of designing, there are strategies for
discovering ideas that have been known to teachers for decades, but
we tend to forget these strategies unless we constantly practise
them.
Prototype
– build a working model, thinking about designing in a sort of
engineering way. This ought to be a step in designing anything.
Test
– see whether your model does what it's supposed to.
Let's
now turn our attention to Higher Education. The article in the
Chronicle argues that
the adoption of Design Thinking to solve the “problem” of
education—more on that later; though who can deny that Education is
possibly the biggest elephant in the problem room?—has resulted in
educational innovations that look good on paper, on marketing copy
put out by most schools in various magazines, but which many faculty,
parents, and alumni look upon with deep dislike. Dislike not because
it stinks of ad-speak and marketing-type jargon, to make simple,
basic things sound sexy and glamorous, but because we feel that it
might actually be bad for the students
in numerous ways.
In
one snippet I was able to obtain from the Chronicle
article, it paraphrases a quote from
an article called “Is Design Thinking the New Liberal Arts?”:
Design
thinking, in other words, is just a fancy way of talking about
consulting. What Miller (the author of the “Is Design Thinking ...”
article), Kelly, and Hennessy are asking us to imagine is that design
consulting is a model for retooling all of education. They believe
that we should use design thinking to reform education by
treating students as clients. And they assert that design
thinking should be a central part of what students learn, a lens
through which graduates come to approach social reality. In other
words, we should view all of society as if we are in the
design-consulting business.
Fawningly,
Miller observes that the d.school’s courses are "popular"
and often "oversubscribed." "These enrollment figures
suggest that whatever it is the d.school is doing, it’s working."
One social innovator Miller might look into is a guy named Jim Jones,
who also had many enthusiastic followers.
Ignoring for a moment the crack about Jim Jones (a
religious nut from the 80's; remember the poisoned Kool Aid?) we can
get a lot of insight into both the problems with, and perhaps some
potential in, the Design Thinking overlay on modern tertiary
education (education after high school).
Continuous Curriculum vs. Flexible Curriculum
In the bad old days, everyone took the same
subjects at the same time, as in elementary school. Then, as the
number of courses taught in school increased, students were given
some flexibility to select what they will study, and so students
would split up, after a compulsory course like English composition,
say, to go off to different classes. This is now the rule in
College; one of the first things you do is make up your choices
(towards the end of the previous semester, for upperclassmen, or over
the summer during orientation, for freshpersons,) called making a
schedule. You go to your advisor, and together you plan which
courses you take.
Suppose you're a sophomore. By now (if yours is a
smallish school), your advisor knows you moderately well, and he or
she knows your major, if you have one, your minor(s), if you have
any, and the sort of stuff you like
to take, and the sort of stuff you have
to take, given your major and your minors. Some of my most
interesting advisees came in with cockamamie ideas for taking various
courses, and it took a little longer to put together a schedule for
them! But the school's policy has always been that ultimately
the student is responsible for his or her schedule;
the advisor signs off on it, but the signature only means that the
student has been alerted to the courses that the advisor thought was
good for them, even if the kid selected some other stuff.
There is
absolutely no argument about really understanding what the
student's preferences and objectives are.
(There is certainly an obligation to at least listen to
the parents' aspirations for their child, but that is of questionable
value, because unfortunately parents sometimes do not know
their kids very well—we can talk about that another time, but that
is a major problem—and parents are not in a very good position to
anticipate what the future will bring—and neither are faculty, but
we have some experience guessing, and learning how good our guesses
were—and parents' thinking is often colored by their own college
experience—or lack of it—which confuses the issues.) But kids
simply have no clue about -what they're going to be doing in the
future, -what they're good at, objectively, -how one course can
seriously influence the success the kid will have in a subsequent
course. Kids don't even have as much wisdom as their parents have,
though the two kinds of people (kids and parents) have two sorts of
tunnel vision that are problematic: kids want things that look good
from their limited experience of life, and what they see on TV, while
ignoring possibly equally glamorous, occupations in which they can
truly excel. Even if a kid has a fantastic education for who he or
she is, and her innate abilities, there is no guarantee that he or
she will be snapped up by some employer who will give the kid the
employment that the kid deserves. (Take that with the understanding
that I believe businesses are too powerful in our society, and that I
also believe that the profit motive sometimes—or often—works
against the good of the employees.)
Interestingly
enough, one of my favorite fantasy authors, Terry Pratchett, had
created a character called Granny Weatherwax, who taught another character, the delightful Tiffany Aching, to open her eyes, and open
them again. This is what I feel
is the essence of the empathize
idea.
Really listen.
It is painful to address what a student wants (or needs) in
opposition to what it is convenient for the institution to give the
student.
Ultimately,
advising is about selecting the set of courses for a student from
among the courses that each academic department has made available
for a semester, given the time-availability of the courses. It is
impractical to deliver the courses the student and his/her parents
want, when they
want it, without a great deal of additional expense.
Design Thinking as an Academic Subject
Design
Thinking can be an actual subject a student can be allowed to take.
I don't think this is a terrible idea, though it does seem to me that
it can be taught within another academic course that has to do with
problem-solving. The less of a conventional course it becomes, the
more effective it is likely to be.
Thinking
about a student as a client,
we have another large problem—about which I have hinted
already—namely: is an 18-year-old kid experienced enough that we
can discover what s/he wants/needs by working hard? A major obstacle
to modern education is that above all what is likely to be most
helpful to a graduate is flexibility
in his or her skill set, flexibility
in his or her mindset, and flexibility
in his or her knowledge base. It is common to hear college faculty
deplore the fact that it appeared the High School taught their
students nothing, and
they had to teach them everything from scratch. Parents from the
managerial class are likely to say, well, it's too late to worry
about that now; if that's what my darling child needs, well, that's
what you have to deliver. So the burden on the instructor is to
deliver the high-school curriculum
as efficiently as possible—and in such a way that, at least this
time, junior will absorb
the information—as well as add on a small fraction of the
college-level material that the instructor had delivered to previous
generations of students.
Design Thinking used as a Marketing Strategy
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Author
Lee Vinsel really hates
most things about Design Thinking. Most faculty are liable to get
worked-up about any sort of fad that claims to revolutionize college
education, because most such fads have, over the years, been revealed
to be mere marketing ploys. He compares some of the ideas in the
Ideate phase as giving
rise to the sort of thing that happens to Iphones over the summer:
essentially repackaging the product to look and feel sexy. He calls
it iCrap.
I
was a head of our department for a few years, and there was desperate
hope in the Dean of our school, that we could create newer, more sexy
majors.
A
mathematics major is plenty sexy enough for me, ever since I realized
that contained within a mathematics major were interesting aspects of
numerous subjects such as quantum mechanics, relativity, classical
dynamics, projective geometry, group theory, and so on. Physics
departments, in comparison, have not turned a hair at these requests,
but created sub-majors such as Astrophysics, and other departments
put in place Neurobiology, Environmental Studies, and so on. (The
Mathematics department did establish a major called Actuarial
Science, which is ostensibly the discipline using which Insurance
companies create insurance products. To my great confusion, it
appears that our—quite challenging—Actuarial major is not only
doing well, but the graduates are well employed and making big money.
In case that gets some parents salivating: it is a very
challenging major, requiring most of a mathematics major, on top of
which you need courses in Economics, Finance, and Accountancy, which
not a lot of undergraduates are willing to put up with.)
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