Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Towards the future of higher education economics

Towards the future of higher education economics

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Yesterday a group of us presented on the future of, well, everything.  Brilliant people spoke to the future of the book, of food, and of work.  In contrast, I gave a short presentation on the future of higher education economics.

I’ll share it with you now, starting with the slides:

Like Gaul, it’s in three handy parts.

I. How higher ed financing currently works.

I distinguished between private, public, and for-profit institutions (an audience member rightly added military and corporate training), then outlined different ways we pay for high ed: state support (for publics, and in decline), federal loans, third party aid, and above all tuition.  Tuition really means financialization, given the enormous expansion of student loan debt.  Pointed out that “tuition-dependent” describes nearly every college and university, with the exception of the richest campuses who have big endowments (naming two represented in the room).

Next I broke down where that money goes at institutions, emphasizing that personnel costs loom largest, since higher ed is a service industry.  In addition there are research costs, “administrative” costs (in quotes because the term really covers all non-teaching staff), student social and academic support, and physical plant (which varies widely between institutions).  Why does this structure look the way it does?  I introduced Baumol’s Cost Disease, our ethos of care (for students especially, but also for research and the institution through service), and, for some, the amenities arms race.

Academia’s finances have changed in other ways.  I noted the rise of adjunctification, which reduced instructional costs while shrinking tenure.  I also explained the rise of the discount rate, which seems like it was news to many in the audience.  This famously makes actual tuition costs harder to grasp, even using the metric of net tuition.

II. Drivers of change

Having established the current high ed financing situation, we then turned to present-day forces driving change.

Income inequality led off, springing from tuition discounting (because as the wealthy peel away from the rest of us, schools can build finances strutures around that gap).  I ran through Thomas Piketty’s work, Pew research on the shrinking middle class, and income gaps exacerbated by race., and the rise of the gig economy.  We touched on a variety of causes, including globalization, the shift from manufacturing to service jobs, the decline of unions, automation, neoliberal ideology and policy, and financialization.

Another major driver is demographics, with American society aging and its geographic distribution.  The latter was especially urgent for the audience, as they were drawn from New England (which is aging rapidly).  We discussed the economic impact in terms of public higher education competing with Medicaid, Medicare, pensions, and other senior-focused state expenditures.  I touched on problems of a shrinking workforce in terms of tax revenue and potential income inequality.

The third major driver is politics, starting from policy uncertainity about the upcoming Trump administration, which could include changes to federal student loan structures, pressure on schools with the largest endownments to alter their spending, and defunding certain academic projects and fields (i.e., climate change studies).  Political change could also come from insurgent students and perhaps campus staff, such as in resistance to deportation efforts. This can lead to hostile reactions from state and/or federal officials (for example).

III. Possible futures

For discussion I offered several scenarios for higher ed economics.

PIKETTY IS RIGHT Income inequality continues to grow, reaching Gilded Age levels.  Adjunctification increases.  Campuses spend more resources to attract wealthier students and their families.  Student debt exceeds consumer mortgages.  Technology skews by class, with the 1% preferring face-to-face instruction, the middle class taking courses online, and MOOCs reserved for everyone else.  Leading majors reflect the economic change: political science (because of political instability), finance, human resources, computer science and engineering.

I offered a sketch of eighteen-year-olds in this world, obsessed with the 1%’s conspicuous consumption.  These teens have already participated in the ” sharing economy”, and think the middle class is a relic of the 20th century.

PIKETTY IS WRONG Income inequality ceases to grow, as America reacts against it.  The 1% commit to high levels of philanthropy, governments invest more in social services, globalization ceases encouraging a race to the bottom for wages.  States end the localization of K-12 funding and take steps to break up racial segregation.  Campuses partner with K-12 schools, adjuncts organize and are recognized, faculty teach and research inequality, and economic aid shifts from merit to economic need.

PEAK HIGHER EDUCATION I reprise my now-familiar argument about declining enrollment.  I added Brian Mitchell’s precise, quiet, and devastating observation:

mitchell-quote-about-edu-sustainability

The premise is that student-generated revenues will expand to offset increasing operational expenses of the institutions. However, the decline in per-student net tuition revenues and the backlash against higher student loan debt have pushed this core assumption off the planning table. At the same, time, higher education faces evolving demographic, political, and economic trends that will constrain revenue, and produce smaller and more diverse admission classes.

Good discussion followed these slides.

Being a book obsessed person, and also not a professional economist, I had to issue a reading list:

Archibald and Feldman, Why Does College Cost So Much? (Oxford)
Cappelli, Will College Pay Off? (Public Affairs)
Christensen et al, Disrupting Class (McGraw-Hill)
DeMillo, Abelard To Apple (MIT)
____, Revolution in Higher Education (MIT)
Massy, Reengineering the University (Johns Hopkins University Press)
McGee, Breakpoint (JHUP)
NACUBO.  Everything they produce.
Newfield, Unmaking the Public University (JHUP)
____, The Great Mistake (JHUP)
Piketty, Capital in the 21st Century (Harvard)
Stevens and Kirst, eds., Remaking College: The Changing Ecology of Higher Education (Stanford)
Wildawsky et al, eds., Reinventing Higher Education (Harvard Education)

 






Edutech

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December 7, 2016 at 06:25AM

Monday, December 5, 2016

The Business of Education Technology

The Business of Education Technology

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This is part three of my annual review of the year in ed-tech

In previous years, when I’ve written about this topic, I’ve saved “The Business of Ed-tech” for one of the last articles in my “Top Ed-Tech Trends" series. If nothing else, I’ve wanted as many days in December to pass as possible so that my calculations for the total amount of venture funding invested during the year were as accurate as I could get them to be when I hit ”publish.“ This year, however, I’ve scheduled this topic earlier, which means I can’t really offer a finalized list of the year’s ”Most Well-Funded Startups“ or ”Most Active Investors." I will do that in a separate article at the end of the year.

But even without knowing the funding data for the month of December, I can say a lot.

I think it’s safe to say, for example, that venture capital investment has fallen off rather precipitously this year. True, 2015 was a record-breaking year for ed-tech funding – over $4 billion by my calculations. But it appears that the massive growth that the sector has experienced since 2010 stopped this year. Funding has shrunk. A lot. The total dollars invested in 2016 are off by about $2 billion from this time last year; the number of deals are down by a third; and the number of acquisitions are off by about 20%.

To the entrepreneur who wrote the Techcrunch op-ed in August that ed-tech is “2017's big, untapped and safe investor opportunity.” You are a fool. A dangerous, exploitative one at that.

“This Tech Bubble Is Bursting,” The Wall Street Journal pronounced back in May. That’s not a new prediction, by any means. We’ve heard this for years now. “The Tech Bubble Didn’t Burst This Year,” Bloomberg cautioned in October, “Just Wait” – suggesting that what the future might hold instead of an outright bust is “several years of relative stagnation.” (But who knows what shape tech investment will take under a President Trump.)

Bust or not, companies across the tech sector, particularly those with high “burn rates”, faced tough choices in 2016: “cut costs drastically to become self-sustaining, or seek additional capital on ever-more-onerous terms,” as The WSJ put it – that is, if they were able to raise additional capital at all.

Even without providing you the final tally of funding for 2016, I can point to other signals about what’s happened to ed-tech startups over the course of the last twelve months – their sustainability, their viability. (Or lack thereof – see “The 2016 Ed-Tech Dead Pool.”)

You can read these signals in the phrases used by Edsurge and other publications to describe startups’ press and product releases. “Tweaking the business model.” “Crossing the chasm to profitability.” “A path to profitability.” “A path to revenue.” “Focus turns to money.” Phrases like these were repeated again and again and again this year, as many ed-tech companies have, for years now, relied on venture capital as their primary source of revenue – a source that’s no longer readily available.

You might read the signals of the health of ed-tech startups in the departure of their founders – both from leadership positions and from their companies altogether. Daphne Koller left Coursera this year. Sebastian Thrun stepped down as Udacity’s CEO. Jen Medbery stepped down as CEO of Kickboard. Remind co-founder Brett Kopf was replaced as CEO by Brian Grey, formerly CEO of the Bleacher Report. NovoEd co-founder Amin Saberi was replaced by Ed Miller, a former Blackboard exec. That’s what happens when you raise millions of dollars in venture capital: venture capitalists have a greater say in how your company is run, in who runs your company.

You might read the signals of the health of ed-tech startups – how they’re “cutting costs drastically to become self-sustaining” – in their downsizing. Layoffs at MasteryConnect (30% of staff). Layoffs at Noodle.com (80% of its marketing and editorial teams). Layoffs at Treehouse (20% of staff). Layoffs at General Assembly (7% of staff). (These are just the ones that were reported by the press, of course.)

In fairness, startups weren’t the only education companies experiencing this sort of upheaval this year: Amplify, News Corps’ education division, continued to sell off various parts of its failed business. Blackboard replaced its CEO. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt’s CEO resigned. ISTE’s CEO left “unexpectedly.” Dale Dougherty returned as the CEO of Maker Media, following layoffs there. The CEO of Safari Books left the company “amidst massive layoffs.” Pearson cut 4000 jobs – 10% of its staff. K12 Inc got a new CEO. DeVry Education Group got a new CEO." (I’ll chronicle the layoffs at for-profit universities in more detail in the next article in this series.)

Clearly ed-tech startups weren’t the only ones facing financial struggles in their quest for profitability, as neither testing nor textbooks nor online education nor for-profit education has proven to be as wildly lucrative as the hype of “the digital” promised.

You can find stock market data about publicly-traded education companies at funding.hackeducation.com.

Who’s to blame that companies aren’t selling enough stuff to schools? Why, schools of course.

What Do Venture Capitalists Want?


Here are the areas that have seen the most ed-tech investment activity so far this year:

Learning to code: Investments include Galvanize ($45,000,000), Codecademy ($30,000,000), Andela ($24,000,000), Wonder Workshop ($20,000,000), Revature ($20,000,000).

Tutoring and test prep: Investments include Byju’s ($125,000,000), Zuoyebang ($60,000,000), Jerry Education ($40,000,000), Smartstudy ($29,540,000), Entstudy ($18,210,000), Brainly ($15,000,000), Zhiyou Education ($9,200,000).

Private student loans: Investments include Affirm ($100,000,000), Incred ($75,000,000, CommonBond ($30,000,000), College Ave ($20,000,000), Indian School Finance Company ($6,000,000).

Online education (admittedly, a very generic category): Investments include Udemy ($60,000,000), DigiSchool ($15,700,000), MasterClass ($15,000,000), UNICAF ($12,000,000), OpenClassroom ($6,740,000).

I maintain a dataset of all education technology investments and all education technology investors. Again, I’ll publish a finalized list of “who,” “what,” and “how much” at the end of the year.

Some of these areas that are popular for investment do coincide with the popular narratives about “the future of education” – “everyone should learn to code,” for example. But some of them, like the explosion in startups offering private student loans, suggest something is happening quite contrary to the narratives of “free and open,” not to mention to a tradition of publicly funded education or the policies of federal financial aid.

Glaring in its absence from this list: “personalization,” one of the most trumpeted technology “solutions” this year. (I’ll look at “personalization” in more detail in a forthcoming article in this series.) Certainly “personal” and “personalized” showed up in lots of funding announcements, as it’s an adjective that gets inserted quite easily into almost any press release. Even without funding data to underscore its importance, “personalization” can’t be dismissed.

The word is a crystallization of ed-tech ideology: through technology, teaching will become radically individualized as learners’ lessons are reduced to the smallest possible piece of content, then presented to them algorithmically. Moreover, per this ideology, without the aid of algorithms and “personalization” technology, human educators and traditional institutions have historically failed to meet the needs of individuals as individuals. The responsibility for education therefore must shift to technology, away from the institution, to the individual, away from the public or civic.

The ideological and financial shift from public to private is exemplified by venture philanthropy – that is, venture capital investments framed as charity.

Last year, Mark Zuckerberg made headlines when he announced he would donate 99% of his Facebook shares to his philanthropic LLC, the Chan Zuckerberg initiative. This investment vehicle is often described as a charity; it’s not. As political science professor Rob Reich recently told Buzzfeed’s Nitasha Tiku in her story on "free market philanthropy,

Wealthy individuals often assume that philanthropic donations should be received in gratitude, Reich said, because it’s better for the public than purchasing another house or another boat. “That’s just false to me,” he said. “It’s an exercise of power aimed at the public, and in a democratic society, power deserves attention and scrutiny, not gratitude.”

The Gates Foundation is perhaps the best known organization for furthering political advocacy through its funding mechanisms. It is a profoundly undemocratic force whereby unelected billionaires funnel money into efforts to reshape public education policies – expanding charter schools, pursuing alternative forms of teacher certification, promoting the Common Core State Standards, encouraging merit-based pay for teachers, and popularizing the narrative that education technology is the key to “personalization.” The agendas of other foundations – big and small – often echo those of Gates. The Chan Zuckerberg Initiative is no exception.

You can find the list of education technology companies the Chan Zuckerberg has invested in this year at funding.hackeducation.com. The list of recipients of Gates Foundation grants can be found on its website.

In May, the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative announced that Jim Shelton would head its education investment endeavors. Shelton had been named president of the online education company 2U earlier in the year. Previously, he’d been the deputy secretary of the Department of Education. Before that, he’d been at the Gates Foundation. Before that, he’d been at NewSchools Venture Fund. Before that, he’d run a school management company acquired by the charter school chain Edison Schools.

“If You Had $45 Billion, What Would You Do to Improve Education?” The Chronicle of Higher Education’s Goldie Blumenstyk recently asked Shelton. Me, I’d probably take it and divvy it up among the 15 million children who live in poverty in the US, but clearly I’d make a terrible venture capitalist.

Shelton’s hardly the only person who’s gone through the revolving door from the Gates Foundation to the Department of Education to venture capital and back again. Ted Mitchell, the current Under Secretary of Education, was the president of NewSchools Venture Fund. And former Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, who stepped down from his position at the end of 2015, joined the venture philanthropy firm Emerson Collective – founded by Laurene Powell Jobs, Steve Jobs’ widow – as a partner in March. (A former basketball star, Duncan also joined the Knight Commission on Intercollegiate Athletics this year.)

Among its investments this year, the Emerson Collective funded a $100 million contest this year to “rethink high school,” perpetuating the old and tired narrative that “high school hasn’t changed in 100 years.” Of course, schools have changed – in both substantial and incremental ways – over the last century, while many recent reformers efforts to radically reshape public school have failed. But, as New York Magazine quipped, “Laurene Powell Jobs is undaunted by these facts.”

Venture philanthropists do not need facts.

You can find the list of education technology companies the Emerson Collective has invested in this year at funding.hackeducation.com.

The Elephants in the Ed-Tech Room


For the last five or six years, education technology has been largely talked about in terms of “startups,” something that helps position the industry as an outsider and an underdog. Of course, most of ed-tech is neither. It’s built and sold by giant corporations.

These are the companies that sell the textbooks; these are the companies that sell the tests.

But as I noted above, these two products haven’t been as lucrative in recent years as companies had hoped, and their to “digital” hasn’t been smooth. In part, their struggles are a result of controversies surrounding the Common Core State Standards, which were supposed to streamline and procurement the development of curriculum and assessment. Pushback against Common Core tests specifically and against standardized testing more generally have also prompted states and districts to rethink the kind and frequency of assessments they buy. “The number of states planning to use the new tests dropped from 45 in 2011 to 20 in 2016,” Education Next observed this fall, and many states and districts have opted to use the SAT or ACT instead of those assessments created by the Common Core consortia, SBAC and PARCC.

Schools, for their part, also continued this year to experience difficulties with the move to computer-based testing, some having to revert to paper-and-pen assessments when online systems went down. In turn, states including Tennessee, Texas, Nevada, Indiana, and New Jersey fined their testing vendors, froze their contracts with testing vendors, or claimed their vendors were in breach of contract.

In response to all these ongoing problems with testing, the Obama Administration said in April it would “take action” in order to “ensure fewer and better tests for students.” “Taking action,” in this case, meant releasing some case studies and posting a notice on the Federal Register about how a competitive grant program could provide a more “innovative” way to build assessments.

Everything’s a business opportunity.

The move away from the Common Core consortia for assessment and towards the (Common Core-aligned) SAT has been a boon for the College Board, no surprise, which reported over $840 million in revenue in 2014 (the last year it’s tax forms are available online).

The College Board released an updated version of the SAT this year that it claimed would make the test more equitable – I’ll look at this claim more closely in the final article in this series. The College Board also boasted about its partnership with Khan Academy, which would make SAT test prep materials freely available online. The College Board insisted that this move – free test prep – would also serve to make the assessment better reflect student capacity rather than parental income, something probably belied by the fact that test prep remains one of the most active areas for education technology investment.

The pressure to move towards digital assessments has fueled schools’ investments in hardware and software more than any other argument about the importance of ed-tech. (According to Edsurge, changes to the Elementary and Secondary Education Act will soon be another “win for ed-tech vendors.” So congrats, ed-tech vendors.) Schools do continue to turn away from the iPad as the tablet hasn’t proven to be quite as revolutionary as some predicted. Surprise, surprise. But the rationale for choosing a certain type of computing device is almost always about testing, not about any other benefit the device might offer teaching and learning.

“Personal Computer Sales to K–12 Education Continue to Rise as OS War Hots Up,” FutureSource Consulting pronounced in March. By June, the same market research firm said that the K–12 market was in decline. (In ed-tech, never forget: “The Best Way to Predict the Future is to Issue a Press Release.”)

But this notion of an “OS War” shouldn’t be too quickly dismissed. “Apple, Microsoft, Amazon and Google Are Fighting a War for the Classroom,” Edutechnica wrote in June, with a look at how many colleges have adopted their competing “pseudo-LMSes.” The “war” extends beyond the productivity suite of tech tools and it extends beyond operating system in the classroom. It’s about building brand allegiance with students and/as workers, and it’s about building data profiles to sell ads and other products.

Although Amazon has provided the infrastructure for many education companies for quite some time now with Amazon Web Services, its cloud-based offering, it attempted to make more inroads into education this year: trying to lure college students to become Prime members, reaching a deal whereby Prime would be the exclusive streaming service for PBS for Kids content, toying briefly with the idea of getting into the student loan business with Wells Fargo, becoming the e-book platform for New York City school system, and launching a digital marketplace for K–12 instructional materials (which I’ll look at more closely in the next article in this series).

It’s probably a stretch to argue, however, that – even with their deep pockets and engineering talent – these big technology corporations are, as Edsurge implied this fall, on a “march to replace learning management systems.” Or if it’s a march, it’s a very very slow one – one that I’m going to leave in the capable hands of Mindwires Consulting’s Phil Hill and Michael Feldstein to monitor. If those two say “the LMS market glacier is melting,” it’s probably melting. (I’m not sure how that changes the march, to be honest. Metaphors in ed-tech are so confusing.) Throughout the year, Hill and Feldstein dutifully chronicled all the updates (or lack of updates) to Blackboard, Pearson, Instructure, Schoology, D2L, and the like. (So thankfully, I didn’t have to.) In May, their company began offering a subscription service for a report on the LMS market – a signal, perhaps, that “the march to replace the learning management system” won’t be over anytime soon.

The LMS, of course, needn’t be a permanent line item in schools’ budgets. And its supposed primacy might actually overlook that there’s a great deal of “shadow” technology utilized by instructors who eschew the official LMS for something they find better suited to their classroom needs and goals.

The Procurement Problem


The learning management system is a piece of “enterprise” software after all. That is, it’s built and bought to satisfy the needs of the institution rather than the needs of individual. Purchasing an LMS – or more correctly, signing a contract to license an LMS – requires its own enterprise-level bureaucracy.

But is procurement really why we have terrible ed-tech?

For the last couple of years – at the very least since the resurgence in venture-back ed-tech startups – there’s been a steady drumbeat of complaints that the procurement process at both the K–12 and college levels is broken. It’s inefficient. It’s “dysfunctional.” I’ve heard the complaint from entrepreneurs. I’ve heard it from their investors, many of whom argue that the challenges of selling to schools is one of the things that makes education a difficult market to crack (and in turn ed-tech startups a poor investment).

There’s a lot that’s wrong with the process, no doubt. For starters, the hefty RFP requirements almost by design tilt purchasing decisions towards big companies and incumbent players. The folks who make the decisions about what to buy typically aren’t the people who are using the products in the classroom.

There’s not a lot of transparency in the procurement process; nor is it easy to find out afterwards which products schools bought or use – although that’s not something you hear companies moan about, funnily enough. You’re just supposed to trust them when they brag they’re used in 90% of schools. (USC professor Morgan Polikoff’s research on textbook adoption, for example, has made this painfully clear. He’s sent FOIA requests to school districts, and in many cases they have been unwilling or unable to share their textbook data. And when they do, the data is often a mess.)

In the last few years, lots of consulting firms and organizations have offered their suggested solutions for fixing (what they see as) procurement problems. Last year Edsurge launched a “concierge” service in which it said it would help schools identify its tech needs and then buy things based on those needs (and then take a cut of the contracts, of course), and it continues to position itself as a liaison between startups and schools.

This spring, Harold O. Levy, executive director of the Jack Kent Cooke Foundation, launched the Technology for Education Consortium in order to offer “price transparency” around procurement. The organization’s first target was Apple, which it found charged different districts different prices for identical iPads. (Apple disputed the organization’s assertions.)

This fall, the EducationSuperHighway released a price comparison tool so that districts could see neighbors’ broadband costs and ideally leverage that information to get a better deal.

(All of these organizations – Edsurge, EducationSuperHighway, the Technology for Education Consortium – are funded by the Gates Foundation. And the beat goes on.)

Some schools made efforts to tackle procurements problems too. UNC, for example, launched a Yelp-like review site for ed-tech tools, where, according to The Chronicle of Higher Education, “it is asking professors to review and comment on how useful various digital services were in their classrooms.”

But by and large, procurement issues are a problem identified by companies that companies decide they will “fix” in turn: “Try Before You Buy,” Edsurge reported in June. “Clever’s ‘Co-Pilot’ Aims to Help Schools Pilot and Purchase.” Indeed, an increasingly popular service offered by ed-tech companies and ed-tech investors is “research” into how to buy ed-tech and into which ed-tech products are best, which “work” (whatever that means).

(These companies almost all share the same investors too. And the beat goes on.)

One of the ways in which ed-tech startups have found success in getting their products widely adopted is to sell to charter schools, particularly charter school chains. (Again, they often share the same investors.) Charter school chains, in turn, have started to license their products and franchise their models to others. As such, it’s difficult to separate “the business of education technology” from “the business of charter schools” – and why it’s difficult, as I noted in the previous article in this series, “the politics of education technology” from “the politics of education reform.”

It’s a business that, much like the business of for-profit higher education, seems to be poised for growth with the election of President Trump. Shares in K12 Inc, a virtual charter school with notoriously poor performance, are up rather dramatically from this time last year. (The history of the future of ed-tech and venture capital: Oracle’s Larry Ellison was one of the first investors in the company.)

In July, California Attorney General Kamala Harris announced a $168 million settlement with K12 Inc over charges the company had published misleading advertisements about the academic performance of students, among other things. “As part of the agreement,” The Wall Street Journal reported, “the attorney general’s office maintains that K12 will forgive about $160 million in debt accrued by the nonprofit schools it manages, which was a result of the fee structure in the K12 contract. The company also will pay $8.5 million to address all claims.” K12 denied any wrongdoing.

California’s virtual charter schools weren’t the only ones that found themselves in trouble legally and/or academically. There were problems in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Idaho with virtual charters. And yet, despite the poor performance, these remain in business.

It’s the business of funneling taxpayer money into private companies. And that is, at the end of the day, the business of education technology.

Disrupting the Culture of Public Education


I’ve argued elsewhere that education technology serves as a “Trojan horse” of sorts, carrying with it into public institutions the practices, politics, and a culture of private business and the ideology of Silicon Valley. This is evident in the ways in which you hear many investors and entrepreneurs talk about what needs to happen to schools – that they need to become more efficient; they need to be more like “lean startups” and redesign themselves as a “minimum viable product”; they need to “unbundle,” “unbundle,” “unbundle”; they need to rename job titles and rethink job roles – “learning engineers” or “entrepreneurs-in-residence,” for example; they need to turn to markets, not politics or publics, for solutions.

Edsurge wrote in March about how schools could bring “Shark Tanks” to their schools. Shark Tank is a reality TV show featuring investor Mark Cuban in which entrepreneurs pitch their ideas to a panel of judges, hoping to win some investment. The Chronicle of Higher Education ran a “Shark Tank” contest at SXSWedu this year. One of the entrants was a startup that made it easier to hire adjunct instructors. For what it’s worth,“Shark Tank funds fewer women than men, with less money,” Mashable observed earlier this year, but I’m sure things’ll be swell if schools adopt the practice.

If you’re looking for a quick read – one that’s hilariously awful – about the culture of startups in order to convince yourself this is the last thing we should bring to public education, I recommend Dan Lyon’s book Disrupted: My Misadventure in the Start-Up Bubble, published this spring.

What VC Spells for Sesame Street


Last year, Sesame Street made the sad and surprising announcement that it had struck a five-year deal with HBO, giving the premium cable channel the first-run rights to new episodes of the beloved television show. As media scholar Siva Vaidhyanathan wrote at the time, “The Sesame Street move is not a horrible thing in itself. After all, the new episodes will show up for free on Public Broadcasting Service stations nine months after HBO viewers got them. Instead, the move is a symptom of how Americans view our collective obligations to each other – especially to our poorest children.” The mission of Sesame Street had, since its founding been to serve underprivileged children, offering them a televised educational enrichment free of charge, free of advertising.

That’s no longer the mission.

“New money has ruined Sesame Street,” The Guardian wrote in January. "In its new format the show’s theme tune is a little brighter and the street scene a little ritzier than one remembers from earlier versions.

The charm of Sesame Street was always in its scruffiness and allegiance to the theory that kids like dirt – or rather, don’t dislike it the way adults do – and Sesame Street’s row of brownstones was clearly the pre-gentrified version."


Now, as the camera pans over Big Bird’s new-look neighbourhood, and in keeping with the times, those houses seem to have been remodelled by developers

Elmo has a new apartment. Oscar the Grouch no longer lives in a trash can. The puppets that are featured the most are the ones with the best-selling product lines. And then there are the humans. Some of those humans – those most dearly beloved humans of Sesame Street, Gordon, Luis, and Bob – were fired (and then brought back due to the uproar).

In February, Sesame Workshop, the maker of Sesame Street, announced it was launching a venture capital arm in order to invest in startups because everything is terrible. It’s first startup investment – a tutoring app. It also invested $53 million in a VC fund run by Reach Capital, formerly NewSchools Venture Fund.

Sesame Workshop has also partnered with IBM, to extract data from preschoolers in the name of “research” into the “personalization” of early childhood education.

Of course, what drives the programming on Sesame Street now isn’t education research; it’s market research. It isn’t “equity” as in social justice; it’s “equity” as in the financial stake a VC takes in a company.

And that’s what “the business of education technology” gets us.

Financial data on the major corporations and investors involved in this and all the trends I cover in this series can be found on funding.hackeducation.com. Icon credits: The Noun Project





Edutech

via Hack Education http://ift.tt/zsM1Vc

December 5, 2016 at 02:05AM

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Education Technology and the Year of Wishful Thinking

Education Technology and the Year of Wishful Thinking

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This is part one of my annual review of the year in ed-tech

In 2005, Joan Didion published The Year of Magical Thinking, which chronicles her husband’s death in December 2003, shortly after their daughter had fallen into septic shock and been placed an induced coma.

I read the book that very year – and honestly, I don’t often buy or read books in hardcover – shortly after my own husband died.

I needed help in understanding grief – my own grief, my son’s grief. “In time of trouble, I had been trained since childhood, read, learn, work it up, go to the literature. Information was control,” Didion writes. “Given that grief remained the most general of afflictions its literature seemed remarkably spare.” I found her book comforting, while its material horrific, in part because it was a book. Didion had found the words to talk about grief and mourning, and she’d written those words down, and she’d published them in a material object I could hold and weep into.

In Didion’s writing, I recognized my own performance of and reliance upon the rituals of “magical thinking,” the omens and interdictions that I believed somehow could undo or stop or assuage the horror of Anthony’s death.

“I opened the door and I seen the man in the dress greens and I knew. I immediately knew.” This was what the mother of a nineteen-year-old killed by a bomb in Kirkuk said on an HBO documentary quoted by Bob Herbert in The New York Times on the morning of November 12, 2004. “But I thought that if, as long as I didn’t let him in, he couldn’t tell me. And then it – none of that would’ve happened. So he kept saying, ‘Ma’am, I need to come in.’ And I kept telling him, ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t come in.’”

This is the rationality of the irrationality of grief. This is the irrationality of the rationality of death.

Mourn and Organize


I want to start this year’s review of education technology acknowledging grief. This has been a terrible, terrible year. I want to start this year’s review of education technology sanctioning, if such a thing is necessary, our mourning. It is not self-indulgent to mourn. We need not hide our feelings.

Until now I had been able only to grieve, not mourn. Grief was passive. Grief happened. Mourning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention. Until now there had been every urgent reason to obliterate any attention that might otherwise have been paid, banish the thought, bring fresh adrenaline to bear on the crisis of the day.

I want to start this year’s review of education recognizing what’s been lost. Not just the loss of Seymour Papert and Prince and David Bowie and Phife Dawg and Harper Lee and Gwen Ifill and Alan Rickman and Gene Wilder and Ursula Franklin and Scott Erik Kaufman and Jerome Bruner and Elie Wiesel and Alvin Toffler and Leonard Cohen (and many more), but the grief and the pain that stems from these and so many other losses. So many losses. It is impossible for me to write about education technology in 2016 without noting their passing, without talking about Brexit, Trump, Duarte, Aleppo, Orlando… I could go on… and acknowledging that many of us have stumbled through this year – from tragedy to tragedy (personal, local, regional, national, global) – in a state of shock, in a state of grief.

Grief clouds your thinking, magical or otherwise.

In a society that considers itself highly rational, highly technological, highly scientific, to call something “magical” often serves to dismiss or diminish it – or to dismiss or diminish those who do not sufficiently understand science or tech. That famous Arthur C. Clarke saying and whatnot. That’s not what Didion meant to do, of course. Indeed, she’s quite methodical with her study – her inspection, introspection – of grief. When she turns to “the literature,” she reads medical and psychiatric texts alongside poetry.

But there’s something about how grief in particular ruptures the rational. It makes us want to believe in – cling to, really – unbelievability. We want to believe that it can’t be true. And in the midst of death and horror and suffering, we often find some small piece of comfort there.

I mean, the Cubs did win the World Series in 2016. Bob Dylan won a Nobel Prize.

Expertise in an Age of Post-Truth


Oxford Dictionaries has declared “post-truth” the word of the year. “Post-truth,” an adjective: “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.”

It’s been over a decade since comedian Stephen Colbert introduced the word “truthiness” on The Colbert Report – his attempt to describe political arguments, particularly those made by conservatives, that need no facts or evidence because they “just feel right.” In other words, we did not suddenly enter a period of “post-truth” in 2016. But facts, evidence, and expertise have taken blow after blow in recent years (at least since President George W. Bush), and the invocation of facts, evidence, and expertise in political arguments (particularly those arguments on social media) is now interpreted as bias rather objectivity.

On the night of the US Presidential election, sociologist Nathan Jurgenson wondered if there wasn’t an equivalent to “truthiness” embraced by those of different political persuasions:

let’s call it “factiness.” Factiness is the taste for the feel and aesthetic of “facts,” often at the expense of missing the truth. From silly self-help-y TED talks to bad NPR-style neuroscience science updates to wrapping ourselves in the misleading scientisim [sic] of Fivethirtyeight statistics, factiness is obsessing over and covering ourselves in fact after fact while still missing bigger truths.

Jurgenson calls “factiness” a belief of the left-wing – one contrary to the “truthiness” on the right. I’m not so sure these fit, quite so neatly, into a political binary. I contend that “factiness” is a core belief of technocracy, which finds a foothold in corporations as often as in academia, in bureaucracy far more often than on the barricades. “Factiness” is, no doubt, a core belief of “elites,” and it’s a core belief of “experts,” and like it or not, these two have become intertwined. Intertwined and despised.

“We now operate in a world in which we can assume neither competence nor good faith from the authorities, and the consequences of this simple, devastating realization is the defining feature of American life at the end of this low, dishonest decade,” Chris Hayes wrote in Twilight of the Elites (2012). “Elite failure and the distrust it has spawned is the most powerful and least understood aspect of current politics and society. It structures and constrains the very process by which we gather facts, form opinions, and execute self-governance.”

And here we are. A loss of faith in governments, governance, globalization, pluralism, polling, pundits, public institutions, private institutions, markets, science, research, journalism, democracy, each other.

“If the experts as a whole are discredited,”Hayes cautions, “we are faced with an inexhaustible supply of quackery.”

Education technology faces an inexhaustible supply of quackery.

Education Technology and (Decades and Decades of) Quackery


Education technology has faced an inexhaustible supply of quackery for quite some time – those selling snake oil, magic pills, and enchanted talismans and promising disruption, efficiency, and higher test scores. The quackery in 2016 wasn’t new, in other words, but it was notable. It is certainly connected to the discrediting of “expertise,” whether that’s teachers-as-experts or researchers-as-experts. (Students, of course, have rarely been recognized as experts – unless they fit the model of “roaming autodidacts” that society so readily lauds.)

What do we believe about education? About learning? How do we know, and who knows “knowing” in a world where expertise is debunked?

Psychology, a field of research whose history is tightly bound to education technology, continued to face a “reproducibility crisis” this year, with challenges to research on “ego depletion,” to claims based on fMRI software, and – of course – to the Reproducibility Project itself, that 2015 report that found that the results in less than 40% of a sample of 100 articles in psychology journals held up to retesting.

So who do you believe? The scientists? The engineers? The advertisers? The media?

In January, “brain-training” company Lumosity agreed to pay $2 million to settle Federal Trade Commission charges that it had deceived customers with its claims that its games improved cognitive functions. But despite the settlement and despite what science journalist Ed Yong politely calls “The Weak Evidence Behind Brain Training Games,” “brain training” remains quite a popular product in education technology, with the phrase “brain-based” used to “scientize” all sorts of classroom practices.

Much like “brain training,” “brain scanning” was repeatedly hyped this year as a possible way to improve the efficacy of education software. Hooking up students to headbands to monitor their brain activity has now left the research lab and entered the exhibit hall. Some of the headbands and helmets now on the market deliver electric shocks and promise to boost “performance” or deliver “instant energy or calm.” Some promise to monitor and measure brain activity. “Brain-zapping” is, according to a story in The Observer this spring, a “nascent industry,” even though there’s really no evidence to support it.

No evidence. But a lot of wild claims made in (ed-)tech journalism nonetheless.

“Researchers Create Matrix-Like Instant Learning Through Brain Stimulation,” Techcrunch announced early this year, a re-write of a press release issued by HRL Laboratories, a research center jointly owned by Boeing and General Motors, regarding an article it had published in the February 2016 issue of Frontiers in Human Neuroscience (a pay-to-publish journal). The press release invoked The Matrix. Of course it did. But the press release was misleading; what the researchers had actually discovered about brain simulation: more research is needed. As I wrote then in response,

Whether or not this is science or fiction, let’s consider why “Matrix-style learning” is so compelling. Stories like this seem to emerge with some frequency. (We might ask too, why do neuroscientific claims frequently go unchallenged by the press - but then again, so much education/technology journalism is wildly uncritical. Parroting PR is pretty routine.)


Science aside, let’s think about culture and society. What’s the lure of “instant learning” and in particular “instant learning” via a technological manipulation of the brain? This is certainly connected to the push for “efficiency” in education and education technology. But again, why would we want learning to be fast and cheap? What does that say about how we imagine and more importantly how we value the process of learning?

There’s little evidence of how these products or practices will improve teaching or learning. But there’s a ton of snake oil. And a lot of wishful thinking.

Education Technology and (Decades and Decades of) Wishful Thinking


The promise of education technology, like it or not, is mostly wishful thinking. Proponents of ed-tech insist that ed-tech is necessary; that without ed-tech, schools are outmoded and irrelevant; that “the future” demands it. But as I argued in a talk I gave at VCU in November, “the best way to predict the future is to issue a press release.” That is, the steady drumbeat of marketing surrounding the necessity of education technology largely serves to further ideologies of neoliberalism, individualism, late-stage capitalism, outsourcing, surveillance, speed, and commodity fetishism.

I know many of us wished otherwise.

Arguably the business of “predicting the future” took a bit of a hit this year, what with the failure, as some describe it, of polling in the Presidential election. But “predicting the future” – with or without the mantle of science – is often about pointing to and sanctioning a particular vision of the future. Wishful thinking.

Folks have long made predictions about the future of education and education technology. Such-and-such practice or product will die out. Such-and-such practice or product will disrupt. Such-and-such practice or product will revolutionize. Such-and-such practice or product will soon be adopted and will change everything.

Soon.

Someday.

Or as the Education Week headline described Bill Gates’ keynote at this year’s annual venture capital gala, the ASU-GSV Summit, “Ed Tech Has Underachieved But Better Days Are Ahead.” They always are.

Hype as Wishful Thinking


There’s a long list of technology products that I’m sure will appear on many “2016 Top Ed-Tech Trends” lists:

Chatbots: As eCampus News pronounced in November: “How chatbots will change the face of campus technology.” (I wrote about the history of the future of chatbots in education in September.)

Blockchain: “10 amazing ways Blockchain could be used in education” by Donald Clark. (I’ll write more about the blockchain and certification in a forthcoming article in this series.)

Pokemon Go: “Why Pokemon Go shows the future of learning gamification,” according to Education Dive at least. (Bonus: “5.3 Reasons Pokemon Go will Replace the LMS” by Tom Woodward.)

3D Printing: 3D printing is “Revolutionizing Project-Based Learning,” according to Makerbot. Related: “MakerBot will no longer make its own 3D printers.” And “The MakerBot Obituary.” RIP.

Wearables: “Eye-trackers that detect when your mind is wandering. Clothes that let you ‘feel’ what it’s like to be in someone else’s body. Sensors that connect your heart rate to how engaged you are in class. These are the kinds of wearable technologies that could soon impact how we learn,” says Edsurge. Wishful thinking? Quackery? (I’ll be talking more about wearables and surveillance in a forthcoming article in this series.)

Bullshit or not, the marketing of these products continues – often with a breathless description of “revolution” and “transformation” and “disruption” and ever-growing business opportunities – even if few schools or teachers or students buy the product, can afford to buy the product, or want to buy the product.

Fads fade, of course. Hype wanes. Take iPads, for example. Or the flipped classroom. Or MOOCs even.

Fads fade, and then sometimes they re-emerge, sometimes they re-brand. “Zombies ideas,” as I’ve previously called them.

No doubt, the most wishful of the ed-tech zombies this year was VR.

Virtual Reality as Wishful Thinking


In July, I wrote an article called “(Marketing) Virtual Reality in Education: A History.” The opening paragraphs:

Virtual reality is, once again, being heralded as a technology poised to transform education. I say “once again” because virtual reality has long been associated with such promises. VR appeared in some of the earliest Horizon Reports for example, with the 2007 report positing that virtual worlds would be adopted by higher ed institutions within two to three years' time; funnily enough, the 2016 report offers the same outlook: we’re still two to three years out from widespread adoption of VR.


The history of VR goes back much farther than this – the phrase “virtual reality” was coined in 1987 by Jaron Lanier, but attempts to create the illusion of being somewhere else – through art and/or technology – date back farther still.


But this time it’s different.” That’s the common response from some quarters to my (repeated) assertion that there’s a substantial history to education technologies – to both the technologies themselves and to the educational purposes for which they’re designed or utilized – that is consistently ignored.


This much is true: augmented reality and virtual reality startups have seen record-setting levels of venture capital in recent years predicated on advancements in the tech (although much of that investment has gone to just a handful of companies, such as Magic Leap). In 2014, Facebook acquired Oculus VR, Google released its Cardboard viewer, and Playstation announced it was working on a VR gaming headset – these have all been interpreted in turn as signs that virtual reality will soon be mainstream.


“Soon.” As the New Media Consortium’s annual reports should serve to remind us, VR has always been “on the horizon.”

In that article – which I’ll refrain from just copy-pasting here – I look at the history of educational uses of stereoscopy, which date back to the Victorian era when a combination of lenses and imagery were used to trick the brain into interpreting two- as three-dimensionality. Many of the products touted as VR today are simply that: stereoscopy with a fancier viewer. (Say, the Android device in Google’s Cardboard Viewer and Expeditions program.)

Virtual reality, at least in its “purest” or strictest sense, requires some very expensive and cumbersome hardware in order to create something more than an “immersive” viewing experience of a 360 degree video. Headsets. Gloves. Sensors. Projectors. Processors. To truly provide a virtual reality, the technology must achieve “sensory immersion in a virtual environment, including a sense of presence,” game developer and VR scholar Brenda Laurel argued in June, listing a series of requisite characteristics almost entirely absent from the multimedia products marketed to schools as VR.

And that marketing, it is worth pointing out, is almost the same as marketing in the early twentieth century urging educators to adopt film as an education technology: “Learn about other cultures.” “Visit faraway lands without leaving the classroom.” “Guided tours of places school buses cannot go.” “Modern pedagogical methods require modern media.” “Pictures speak a universal language.” “This is science.”

(Image credits: Educational Screen, 1924)

So the claims that this is new and revolutionary are dubious. The claims that stereoscopy is VR are dubious. The claims that VR will “reinvent education” are dubious. (According to a report on “The Top 10 Companies Working on Education in Virtual Reality and Augmented Reality,” one of the “top” applications “simulates a lecture hall in virtual reality.”) The claims that VR will expand access to education for everyone are dubious. (Despite headlines claiming, for example, that “Anybody can now buy Microsoft’s $3,000 HoloLens,” not everyone and not every school can afford to do so.) The claims that the technology is finally ready for consumers are dubious. (VR still makes people nauseous.) The claims that the technology will enhance empathy are really dubious, particularly in the light of Oculus Rift founder Palmer Luckey’s financial support for an unofficial pro-Donald Trump group dedicated to “shitposting” and spreading hateful memes about Hillary Clinton. (I’ll have more to say on Oculus Rift and Facebook in the next post in this series – one that will address the politics of ed-tech – as well as in the final post – one that will talk about discrimination by design.)

But the breathlessness about VR persists, much as it has persisted for decades: it will change education forever. It is the next big thing. It’s the future of school (and it’s the future of Facebook). It is a disruptive innovation.

It is all wishful thinking.

Grief and Loss and Education Technology


Perhaps it’s time to ask why – why this is the ritual and the story that education continues to turn to? It has, after all, for at least one hundred years - the promise of teaching machines. What is the loss that we are suffering? What are we grieving? Why are we in this fog of educational make-believe? Why are we so wrapped up in the magical thinking and wishful thinking of education technology? What do we hope the practices of ed-tech will deliver, will relieve? What are we hoping to preserve? What are we hoping to absolve? What might we afraid to admit has died? Why is wishful thinking, in and through and with education technology, a balm for so many of us?

At what point should we just let go...

Financial data on the major corporations and investors involved in this and all the trends I cover in this series can be found on funding.hackeducation.com.





Edutech

via Hack Education http://ift.tt/zsM1Vc

December 1, 2016 at 02:13AM

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