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It’s almost exactly one year since I announced the death of the LMS in a post on this blog, and (in a phone conversation yesterday) I found myself talking about my theory one more time with a nice woman who was willing to give me introductions to lots of people who might hire me. I guess I’m a fool.

Many of those companies would probably be willing to write long-term, high-dollar contracts to have me build strategic operational implementation visions with rich functional specification statements, describing best practice drivers to manage all critical metrics involving the success alignments contained in a world class deployment of their mission critical Learning Management System. Or something like that.

The truth is, from my point of view, that you can no longer “manage” learning in any meaningful sense. Yes, you can manage memorization. Make people go through a series of e-learning screens on your HR policies and then do a multiple-choice quiz — but that’s not learning. Make people watch videos of sexual harassment role playing and then identify good touching and bad touching — but that’s not learning. Make people click and drag parts of a hamburger onto a bun and hear music when they do it right — but that’s not learning.

Learning happens when someone can actually successfully apply the knowledge in a real life situation. And measuring that is incredibly expensive, time consuming, and difficult. I rarely see it happen, because in almost every case it proves that your training was pretty useless.

And actually, that memorization stuff really doesn’t last very long, anyway:

Example 1: Name the capitals of all 50 states

Example 2: Recite the ten commandments

Example 3: Set up speed dial on your cell phone

What an LMS is very useful for is tracking that people experienced the process of hearing and/or seeing information. For privacy training, sexual harassment training or Sarbanes-Oxley this is critical to the organization’s legal future. “Why, yes, your Honor. Mr. Frisbee was given complete training before he drained the widow’s and orphan’s fund. We’re completely innocent.”

For giving people context (french fries go in the oil before they go in the cardboard box) it’s just fine. But to actually impart knowledge and/or skills that will stick in a meaningful way, most of what an LMS measures has very little to do with learning. And since most learners today don’t really learn in a linear fashion, they just click through the course or game the system to comply with your requirements. So you’re really not measuring anything, anyway.

(If you want to have some fun, offer a $1000 prize to the first person in the org who can find a way to game the system into thinking that he or she has taken every single course. But be prepared to be embarrassed, big time.)

My problem is that I really love learning. I spent a lot of time (and money that I’m still paying back) getting skilled in how to really make it happen. Sort of like a welder who really respects a solid bead between two plates, I’m troubled by something that just looks nice but really doesn’t make the grade. And like that welder, it worries me that people are taking money (and sometimes a lot) for a structure that will collapse at some point.

When that happens, all of us will be blamed.

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My close friends have already heard this, but it’s time you all know. In a few weeks, I’ll actually be bi-coastal. As part of my master plan to become a completely virtual guy, my wife and I will be moving our main base of operations to a little town in South Carolina — Columbia. Known for heat and oppressive humidity, it also has a minor league baseball team called the Blowfish and the Irmo Okra Strut.

We’ll keep a condo or something here on the West Coast, and I’ll limit my consulting work to clients who can work with me on a mostly virtual basis. I’ll still come to your office now and then, and I’m now doing a lot more speaking and workshops at events, but the days of sitting in a big building looking out the window are past. I hope.

It’s a big jump. But it’s something we’ve been planning for a long time, and at some point you’ve just got to make the leap of faith. So if you know of anybody who wants to give me money not to come in every day, now’s the time to call them.

The best part of ASTD TechKnowledge in San Antonio may have been the barbeque:

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There’s a concept in software building called “agile development“. In simple terms, it means that you don’t spend a whole lot of time making a huge complicated plan of every little detail of the whole finished product. (This is pretty counter-intuitive, and really makes most people pretty nervous.)

Here’s one way to think about it. If you’re going to go to DisneyWorld, you could spend a year reviewing brochures and maps of the entire kingdom. Plot your course, exactly which rides you’re going on at what time, where to eat, and how much to spend at each gift shop. Then when you got there you would just measure your success by how well you kept to the plan.

Another way to do it would be just get in a car and drive to the park. Your goal would be to have fun, see the sights, and come away with some good memories. Each day, you’d huddle with the other members of your group and exchange experiences and talk about what you’d like to do next. Most likely, you’d find that many of your early ideas had changed. Some parts of the parks were just not as interesting as you thought. Some were much more interesting.

So day by day, you’d make minor course corrections in the plan — all based on constant feedback from the users. And each round of review would get you closer to that goal of “good memories” that you had at the beginning. Incorporating nearly constant feedback would make sure that your ultimate goal was reached — and your willingness to be flexible and not tie yourself to a rigid plan made months ago would ensure that you could get to the goal.

So how might we apply that to learning? Take a look at how most of us approach courseware design. We perform a needs assessment, create some kind of functional specification, develop a design document, a development plan, do a little production and quality control, create a version 1.0 and send it through edit and stakeholder review, and then finally release it to the learners. By that time the thing is pretty fully baked, and only major problems are going to get addressed.

How about if we just set some major goals — “learners can apply sound lending principles to home mortgages” or something like that. Then we create a quick module, roll it out to some learners, and get feedback. Our stakeholders give the feedback review, we incorporate it, and do another loop. Each cycle brings us closer to a product that meets our goal, and our quality improves with every evolution.

Set down your laptop, and head outdoors. Take a look at how ants build an anthill. They pile up the grains of sand in a pretty organized fashion, but as obstructions appear the hill may take on a completely different shape than what you might expect. But they reach the goal.

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When I go in for major surgery, I want my surgeon to be arrogant. I’d like him to truly believe that he’s the best there is at this procedure and that I’d be a fool to go elsewhere. I’m not even sure that I want him to spend a lot of time trying to explain to me, a rookie, exactly what he’s going to do or why.

Early in life I had to choose between honest arrogance and hypocritical humility. I chose honest arrogance and have seen no occasion to change. — Frank Lloyd Wright

As I board a 767 for a flight on a stormy day, I want my pilot to be arrogant. I want her to bristle at any implication that she can’t fly the socks off of every single male pilot in the company, with one manicured hand tied behind her back. And I really don’t want her to spend any time trying to make sure I’m comfortable with the route she’s planning or how much fuel is on board.

Timing and arrogance are decisive factors in the successful use of talent. — Marya Mannes

When I’m in a burning building, I want that fireman to be arrogant. I’d like him to believe that he is faster, braver and more skilled than anyone else on the truck. That no matter how dire the situation looks, he’ll be able to get me out and keep me breathing. And I really don’t want him to spend any time considering whether I understand how pumper trucks work or what’s the best way to wield the ax.

It ain’t bragging if you can back it up. — Dizzy Dean

I was told, this week, that I lost a bid on a project because the client felt that I was arrogant. That I hadn’t spent enough time listening to them, understanding their situation, and really explaining exactly what I’d do and why. And I’ve been thinking about this.

It’s a valid complaint. I probably did come off that way. Even though well over half of the time we spent together was taken up by the principal just rambling through his thoughts on the situation in general, as the rest of his team sat mute. Even though the problem they had was no different than any other org that was attempting to spool up on that product.

I’ve got a pretty decent resume on doing exactly the type of work that they were looking for, in some pretty big ponds. Theirs was a very small pond. The fact that I didn’t spend a lot of time asking detailed questions (and turning every single duck in the pond upside down to see if it had feet) must have emphasized that. The fact that I didn’t sound worried about taking on the project, or worried about success, or really even worried about whether or not they wanted to hire me probably did come off as arrogant.

At the end of the day, though — being honest (as Mr. Wright recommends) helps me avoid projects where the client and I won’t mesh well. This group obviously wanted to be very involved in decisions, have me spend lots of time communicating with them, and make sure that they were on board with each choice that I made as we went along. They just weren’t going to be comfortable to get on the airplane, lay down on the gurney, or climb down that ladder on my say-so alone.

That’s certainly their option — and I do have a model where I’m willing to do projects like that — but clients don’t usually sign up.

If you want to help me do the job, I’ll have to charge you double. — Dick Carlson

Now before you start posting comments about how I should just be nicer, or not show this arrogance to the customer, or “pretend” that I’m really interested in how they want the systems managed — tell me the truth.

When the engines flame out, who do you want to land the plane? And do you want them to be arrogant?

ar·ro·gant /ˈærəgənt/ –adjective
1.making claims or pretensions to superior importance or rights

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I spent time yesterday talking to some folks at a local college, trying to convince them that they should pay me an outrageous amount of money to get their portal site up and running on MOSS. (Not the fuzzy green stuff, but Microsoft Office Sharepoint Server.) Like many organizations, they’d had no trouble installing the software — in fact, they’d had an earlier version three years ago. But the issue was getting the people to use it.

Organizations are all about collaboration tools, these days. The demos show happy employees sharing their IP, working together and easily accessing information across a seamless series of tubes. Everyone is smiling, every document is immediately available, and all their slacks are creased right down the middle.

I’m not sure where these people work, but I’ve never been there. In the real world, actually getting the employees to use collaboration software is by far the most difficult challenge in any roll out. Installation is pretty much a matter of clicking on some wizards, or writing a relatively small check to some guy who logs in remotely to your server. It costs a little more if you actually want someone to ask some questions about how you’re going to use it, but that doesn’t happen very often.

So these folks had some experience with the fact that many SharePoint installations didn’t really end up the way they had hoped. Some groups used them, some groups absolutely refused to, and some groups lost entire days of work when things went wrong. People weren’t always happy about the idea that anyone/anywhere/anytime could look at everything they did. Or that it could be changed, deleted, or “borrowed”. Kind of like having your desk in the hall.

Add to that the fact that early versions of SharePoint (and most of it’s competitors) had frequent issues with access, stability, backups and just plain usability and you can understand why there were issues. If the can of soup you put in your kitchen cabinet vanished one day, and the next day you couldn’t even get the door open — you’d probably start leaving the can out on the counter.

But let’s get back to me and all that money. I told them that the only way I’d found to get people to engage with a community tool was to focus on pain. (Not causing pain, although that might be an option.) I recommend finding a way to eliminate pain for the user.

Here’s an example. If you’re an IT Admin, make a list of the top five calls you get every day. Probably looks something like this:

1. How do I reset my password?
2. Is my email server up?
3. Where is the RAS software?
4. How do I reach the helpdesk?
5. When is the tech scheduled to arrive?

I recommended that each Sharepoint site at their College just identify the top five issues, and create a dropdown list with links to the appropriate answers. Put the dropdown at the very top of the home page on their site. When a user calls, emails or sends a carrier pigeon — DIRECT THEM TO THE SITE. (Use a friendly URL — “ITHELP” or something, not \\college\datastore\obscure\unknown\confusing\23kks@@3)

Benefits:

• You’ve just eliminated 80% of your calls and emails
• You’ve taught your users that they can get immediate help on Sharepoint
• You’ve taught your techs to put answers on Sharepoint
• You’ve made yourself look like a very smart dude or dudette

But how about the things the college administration wants people to go to the site for — policies, reports, meetings? I probably shot myself in the foot — but I said that was Organizational Development — not something that I could fix with a community tool. (Unless the president said they’d be fired, or offered a bonus of $1000 per visit.)

Once you’ve got people participating in a community, they’ll start coming back. When they need some meeting minutes, or an obscure answer — they’ll go to your node and try a search. If you’ve got meaningful file names and good tags, they’ll probably find what they need. (I’d sure rather do that than play voice-mail tag or wait for you to respond to my email.)

I don’t know if I’ll get the gig — I’m pretty blunt and outspoken, and that puts off some people. But I feel that I owe it to a client that I’m honest about what can and can’t be accomplished with their money.

Think positive thoughts for me.

I’m in Vancouver for the Northern Voice conference, a collection of bloggers and social media freaks. It’s probably the best show that I go to each year. It’s fun to see such a collection of people who really get the idea of social media, and I don’t have to dress up and try to look “professional”. I’m in the lobby right now, and there are probably fifty people with laptops (lots of Apples) waiting for Moose Camp to start. It’s a wide open day with the inmates deciding on what we talk about.

I really enjoy coming to Vancouver because:

1. They have a newspaper for heterosexuals called “The Straight“
2. Their green lights blink all the time — which causes me to slam on my brakes when they turn yellow
3. I have no idea where I’m going, and keep getting to see new places
4. The food choices are amazing — in every block. I’m not sure how many cultures are here, but for a guy who grew up in Minnesota it’s overwhelming
5. I’m staying at the Sylvia that’s right on the beach — built in the 1930’s, it was the toast of the town and the coolest place in town
6. I get hassled by the border dudes going up, and hassled by the border dudes going back. Why are those guys so cranky, anyway? I’ve never gotten that treatment in Australia, Japan, Europe, etc. Must be the weather.

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UPDATE:

Someone commented that “The Straight” isn’t for us heteros.  Hard to believe.  If I’m that gullible, how about these other things I noticed:

7.  I’m allowed to drive 110 on the freeways.

8.  Gas is only $1.33

I posted the information from my session on Mobile Learning at the Moose Camp.

Here’s a link to a presentation I prepared for Ignite Seattle. The premise was that we had to come up with exactly 20 slides (no more, no less) that would be presented for exactly 15 seconds each. So I came up with a 12-step process to help us all prepare better PowerPoint presentations.

Based on the AA model, it begins with admitting that we are powerless. It then proceeded through the rest of the 12 step model.  The punch line?  I didn’t manage to get there to present it!  So here’s your only chance to see it.

Link to original deck

I’m looking at some trade shows to attend this year. One of the themes that I see is speed — rapid learning development, just-in-time learning, learning at light speed, peer-to-peer learning, telepathic learning. (Well, ok, I haven’t seen that last one — yet.)

I’ve built a lot of learning over the years. Some fast, some half-fast. But we may be losing sight of one of the key principles of learning. It’s not how fast you shovel it into the sack, but how neatly it’s packed.

Malcolm Knowles certainly said it more elegantly, but just throwing a bunch of information into somebody’s head is pretty pointless unless they can process it, relate it to what’s already in there, and be able to apply it in future situations. I spent twelve years in school having various things pushed into my little skull of mush (fractions, capitols, chemical formulas) that I couldn’t apply at all today. They tell me I was “learning to learn” when I complain about those wasted years.

In the 1980’s, one of the most popular corporate learning experiences was a “Ropes Course“. A bunch of suits were taken into the forest and required to climb up into a web of ropes between trees, passing each other back and forth to learn teamwork. (Regrettably, few took the opportunity to drop vice-presidents on their pointy little heads.) Not a lot of research was done on why (or if) this was effective as a learning model, but it was very effective in moving money from corporations to people who tied ropes to trees.

When actual research was done, it turned out that the learning happened almost entirely during the “processing” part of the experience, done on the ground after the dangling and passing. People were led through a discussion of how decisions were made, what they learned about using different skills, how they’d apply this to their work environment, etc. An experienced facilitator could really provide a great outcome that ended up giving a team some very useful experiences.

But the funny thing was that you could get this same result by doing all sorts of other things — passing eggs in spoons, tossing hamsters, or relay-slinky competitions in tall buildings. (Ok, I’m being silly. Sue me.) Turns out that the actual experience wasn’t all that important, but the processing of the experience was the key.

So we proudly trumpet that we’re shortening the learning process and being more and more efficient. We only give people the nugget of information they need at the moment they need it. Knowledge comes from a peer, with no filter or validation. We’re letting the learners decide whether they even need the learning.

It worries me. We’re not really allowing any time for processing, here. I’m getting on (yet another) airplane in a couple of days. Which of these two pilots do I want at the controls:

#1 Completed all training faster than any student in the history of aviation

#2 Has been flying for fifty years, has made some mistakes, and had to crash land once when the engines failed

Are you learning too fast? Do you need to toss a few more hamsters?

I’m not exactly sure why I feel the need to share this.  I was walking through a local variety store (think Target) that has a large sporting goods section.  They had a big white fridgedator with the following sign:

Seems to be an excellent example of good marketing.