Posts Tagged ‘teaching’

History Collages and Image Mining

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about how students can begin to sort through the huge databases of historical images now available online. Image mining is still in its infancy, although already we are starting to see some interesting work being done in the field. This work promise to eventually let us do what might be called forensic image mining where one takes an image of, say, a face and then sends out a search looking for other iterations of that face. Much of the work in image mining is still highly technical, but if you are interested, a good place to start might be the work of Thomas Deselaers.

Until efforts such as Deselaers’ bear fruit, we will remain dependent on the metadata added to images to help us locate what we want. Because the kind of metadata we want is generally added only to images posted online by libraries and archives, mining images posted online by the crowd will remain a difficult task for at least a few more years.

For just a minute though, let’s imagine what it will be like five years from now when our students can find images that they want or need through sophisticated image mining techniques. What will they do with those images once they’ve analyzed them?

I’ve always felt that writing about images was a bit like dancing about architecture (to paraphrase Elvis Costello, Frank Zappa, Martin Mull, or Steve Martin depending which Google hit you believe). Describing the content of an image is all well and good, but images are, well, visual, and so creating text about a visual medium removes us one full step (at least) from the thing itself. So why not ask our students to create history with the visual sources they find online?

Already many history teachers do just that by asking students to create history collages in the younger grades or poster presentations in later grades/college about their research. But even these, worthy as they may be, are static representations of the past and once created are difficult to alter. Each year more and more tools emerge online to let students begin to play with images and how they might present them. Just to give one example, our Object of History project here at CHNM lets students create a “visual presentation” drawn from material found on the site. For all its strengths, this particular module exemplifies what won’t work when we can begin to do real image mining–students using the Object of History project can only work with the material in the site, not with material they find elsewhere.

Often I find intriguing ideas from the world outside of academia that seem as though they might be ported over into what we are trying to do in education. Take just a minute and look at the website polyvore.com (thanks to my wife Susan for pointing this one out to me). This site, devoted to women’s fashion, lets its users create “sets” from a database of images that are aggregated from the websites of retailers. Information about each image (we might call it metadata) is embedded in the larger image (we might call it a poster) and to the right you find a fuller description of each item (we might call that an annotation). Creators of these sets can add content from their own images as well.

The image sets on this site then move up and down in popularity based on user feedback, are categorized in a wide variety of ways, and users interact with one another around the sets…a different spin on social networks than what we are used to thinking of in education.

Imagine a world where students can use a tool like polyvore.com and the images available to them are mined from the web (rather than from a discrete set of library or archival sites). What might they create when they are making history in this way? How might their presentation of visual information change the way we think about the past? How might their interactions with one another around such visual creations change the ways they think about the past? I for one am looking forward to such a world.

One year, four months, nine days

Tuesday, May 11th, 2010

At last there is resolution on the course I and several colleagues proposed to our General Education Committee that was designed to meet the (now revised) information technology requirement for graduation from George Mason [earlier posts]. One year, four months, and nine days after the course syllabus was approved by our College Curriculum Committee (and after first a revision of the IT requirement and then a revision of the syllabus to reflect the changes in the requirement), the General Education Committee voted to reject the course.

We can, of course, still offer the class (and probably will), because our College approved it. It just won’t count toward the university’s general education requirements. This means the class will only accomplish one of its goals — to introduce undergraduate history majors to the digital humanities in a rigorous way. The other goal — extending the reach of the course to the rest of the undergraduate population — will only be partially achieved because now the students outside our department who take the course will not be able to count the course toward their university general education requirements. Instead, they will have to choose from one of the following courses:

Anthropology 395: Work, Technology, and Society: An IT Perspective
Chemistry 350: Computer Techniques for Chemistry
Computer Science 130: Computing for Scientists
Criminology 300: Political Analysis
Engineering 117: Information Technology in Engineering
Government 300: Political Analysis
Information Technology 103: Introduction to Computing
Music 415: Music in Computer Technology

Each of these courses is, I’m sure, quite worthy in its own right, and our students will still have a reasonable variety to choose from. The sad part is that our own majors will now have to select one of these courses rather than a course taught by one of the faculty members who is part of the Center for History and New Media, arguably the most important digital humanities center in the world.

The chair of the General Education Committee did offer us the opportunity to revise the syllabus yet again. Given that it has taken one year, four months, and nine days to get to the point of a second rejection of the course syllabus, I am throwing in the towel and giving up. It’s possible that someone else in the department may take up the challenge. I don’t often admit defeat, but I am simply too busy with other responsibilities (finishing a book, running a grad program, raising my children) to keep fighting what appears to be a losing battle no matter which way I look at it.

Playing With History – Day 2 (cont’d)

Friday, April 30th, 2010

This is the third in a series of posts designed to capture and preserve the activity and conversation at the Playing With Technology in History conference. After the morning break we shifted from gaming to making.

[11:00] How can making or remaking things from the past help us to understand the past? What do the tactile experiences intrinsic to making objects or handling/manipulating objects have to do with thinking about the past? A number of the papers/projects here are about making and how the act of making opens up new ways to understand the past. As new and entrepreneurial as the games are, my own sense is that the work of the “makers” here is closer to something we might call the bleeding edge of digital humanities. In particular, I like the way using digital tools to make analog objects, thereby making the intangible tangible holds some real promise for finding new ways for our students to think about the past. How we might measure that, however, is the big issue all the “makers” are facing. We don’t yet know how to measure such things, but measure them we will.

[11:45] For the various authors one of the issues we need to confront is the degree to which the papers are analytical or encouraging. If they are only encouraging, then they aren’t scholarship (in my view anyway), but if they are only analytical, they will both be more than a little boring and will appeal less to the intended audience for the book, namely those who are both interested in the work we’re doing and in possibly doing something similar themselves. By being both encouraging and analytical we will help others see that this kind of fun/work is possible, but also — and I think this is critical — that it is scholarly work, not just fun.

[12:30] A theme that emerged during the two days is how much of this sort of techno-play in history requires the historian to be a technical expert (or semi-expert) and how much can be done with simple to use, off the shelf products like Google Earth, Google Sketchup, etc.? The more the latter are useful for this kind of work, the more likely we’ll be to find a wider audience.

[2:00] In the context of the Great Unsolved Mysteries of Canadian History site, we spent some time discussing the ways that really worthy projects like this one sustain themselves over time. This conversation, well known to everyone working in digital humanities, was not about play, making, or any of the other conversations in the conference, but still we needed to have it.

[2:30] How do you work with a million books? How do you teach students to think differently with such an embarrassment of riches? See Steve Ramsey’s paper (a Digital Campus Irregular) on the conference website. Steve makes some very important points about the value of teaching students to screw around as a research methodology. I like the fact that this idea is so completely the opposite of the standard notion of teaching students to be overly structured in their approach to browsing and searching. His conclusion is great: “There are so many books. There is so little time. Your ethical obligation is neither to read them all nor to pretend that you have read them all, but to understand each path through the vast archive as an important moment in the world’s duration—as an invitation to community, relationship, and play.” Read the paper when it comes out in the book. If you teach, you need to.

[3:00] What are the ethics of using “casual games” to get museum or archive visitors to help you classify materials in their collections (in the model of Recaptcha)?

[3:20] Another advantage of the small, informal, but still structured conference format is that we’ve formed a community of practice that is already interconnected in a whole variety of ways — digital and analog. The book project will keep us glued together for a while, but the links we’ve forged here the past two days will outlast that project. That these links are both transdisciplinary and transnational makes the experience that much more powerful. More unconferences please…

[4:10] A nice moment when we discussed Stephane Levesque’s paper in which he described students complaining about having to use a digital history module in a course — one of them said “Why can’t you just tell us?” — instead of just being lectured at. To what degree is that schoolish behavior? Are they just unhappy that they can’t use the techniques they’ve mastered already, i.e., taking notes, memorizing facts, passing tests? Or is there something about the digital that they don’t like. For a book like the one we’re envisioning, it’s important to keep in mind that digital doesn’t always work.

Playing With History — Day 2

Friday, April 30th, 2010

[8:30] Today’s session at the Playing With Technology in History conference was devoted to the paper draft we all wrote prior to the conference. Unlike the typical academic conference, where someone (or several people) read their papers, listen to a discussant, and then answering a few questions from the audience, we threw out that model. Instead, we were all expected to have read all of the papers and each of us was to prepare comments/questions for one paper. The goal is to pull the papers together into a volume of essays that can be submitted to a press no later than early July.

Therefore, our process was to tease out those things that need to be done with the paper before it will be ready for publication. Each “presenter” was allocated seven minutes — no more — to offer comments/questions/suggestions on the paper. Then the audience got ten minutes for additional suggestions/questions. As you might imagine, the authors of each paper walked away from the sessions with concrete ideas for what they need to do in the next two months to get their papers ready to submit.

Not surprisingly, everyone at this meeting spent some time wishing all academic conferences could be so productive. As I’ve written previously, I don’t think all academic conferences should adopt this model, but I do think that (a) we need many more conferences like this one — a day of unconference, a day of productive intellectual work — and (b) the big conferences like the AHA annual meeting need to set aside time in their programs for smaller, more creative collaborative opportunities.

Themes emerging from today’s conversations include:

[9:00] A number of the papers concerned games — augmented reality games, “serious” games, and simple analog games for history. There is a productive tension, it seems to me, between “history play” for its own sake, and measurable learning gains. How to find the sweet spot between these two is something a number of people came back to more than once. Also for the gamers, I raised the point of how someone could begin to build games like these without local infrastructure support? I’m completely ignorant about how one might do this sort of work, but I’m betting that it’s very difficult to do in isolation. Lacking good local support, anyone trying to build history games needs a community of practice to make the work possible.

[9:45] Another issue that arose among the game developers was a new one to me — the “creepy tree house” effect. I’ll bet you probably hadn’t heard that one either. The basic idea is that kids can identify a creepy tree house built by adults to lure them in and so they avoid it. When a professor builds a game for students, will they consider it a creepy tree house — a place they are going to be lured into not for bad things, but to fail. I like this term, because when we think about things we design for our students I’ll bet they often think there’s a creepy tree house or two in that syllabus. But, as one of the participants pointed out, there is a tension between the guided learner (whose professor is peering at the student from the window of his tree house) and the unguided learner who we hope will learn things if we create the right environment and turn them loose. I don’t think we know the answer to this problem yet.