DESIGNING COMPELLING LEARNING EXPERIENCES

by

Patrick E. Parrish

B.A., University of Colorado at Boulder, 1980 B.A., Metropolitan State College of Denver, 1986 M.A., University of Colorado at Denver, 1990

A thesis submitted to the University of Colorado Denver in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy Educational Leadership and Innovation 2008

 2008 by Patrick Parrish All rights reserved.

This thesis for the Doctor of Philosophy degree by Patrick Parrish has been approved by

_________________________________________ Brent G. Wilson

_______________________________________ Joni Dunlap

_______________________________________ Elizabeth Boling

______________________________________ Andrew S. Gibbons

_________________________ Date

Parrish, Patrick E., (Doctor of Philosophy, Educational Leadership and Innovation) Designing Compelling Learning Experiences Thesis directed by Professor Brent G. Wilson

ABSTRACT Learning is always more than the acquisition of knowledge; it also comprises an experience filled with the tangible qualities present in all life experiences. More than intellectual exercises, learning experiences are propelled by significant emotional energy and shaded by personal meanings that sometimes impact how people see themselves and the subject matter. The portfolio of work comprising this dissertation represents a developing inquiry into the aesthetic nature of learning and instructional design. Three chapters take a theoretical approach in exploring the nature of learning experiences and developing a rationale for applying the concept of aesthetic experience in striving toward engaging and compelling instruction. They draw primarily from the philosophy of John Dewey, and culminate in a framework for understanding factors contributing to the quality of a learning experience. Two chapters describe empirical research into how instructional designers and learners interpret learning experiences. One study takes a grounded theory approach to describe how educators apply aesthetic principles in their work and develops a generalized model of the aesthetic experience of learning. The second study examines the learning experiences of a set of learners engaged with an online learning module, focusing on the developing patterns of engagement and those factors influencing engagement. The final three chapters provide practical guidance for considering the learning experienceoffering a set of aesthetic principles for instructional designers and narrative tools for designing with learning experience in mind.

This abstract accurately represents the content of the candidates thesis. I recommend its publication. Signed_______________________________ Brent G. Wilson

DEDICATION PAGE This dissertation is dedicated to my wife Terri Woodward and son Addison Woodward-Parrish for their support and inspiration to strive for meaningful pursuits, and to my parents James and Helen Parrish for the value of education and learning they instilled in me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT I want to thank all the reviewers of the papers contained within this dissertation for helping make them more valuable works, including my fellow doctoral students in the IDEAL Doctoral Research Lab in the EDLI Program at University of Colorado at Denver. In particular, I want to thank Professor Brent G. Wilson for his numerous contributions to my work, in both substance and direction. I also want to thank the other members of my doctoral studies review committee, Drs. Joni Dunlap and Elizabeth Kozleski for their guidance and advice in the development of this work. Finally, Id like to thank my additional dissertation committee members, Drs. Elizabeth Boling and Andrew S. Gibbons for the inspiration their work has provided to my own. Chapter 2, Embracing the Aesthetics of Instructional Design. Originally published as Parrish, P. E. (2005). Embracing the aesthetics of instructional design. Educational Technology, 45(2), 16-25. Reprinted with permission from Lawrence Lipsitz, Editor, Educational Technology Publications. Chapter 7, Aesthetic Principles for Instructional Design. In press as Parrish, P. E. (In Press). Educational Technology Research & Development. Reprinted with kind permission from Springer Science and Business Media. Chapter 8, Design as Storytelling. Originally published as Parrish, P. E. (2006a). Design as storytelling. TechTrends, 50(4), 72-82. Reprinted with kind permission from Springer Science and Business Media. Chapter 9, Plotting a Learning Experience. This chapter appears in Handbook of visual languages in instructional design, edited by Luca Botturi & S. Todd Stubbs, Copyright 2008, IGI Global, www.igi-pub.com. Posted by permission of the publisher.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Figures...................................................................................... xii Tables.......................................................................................... xiii CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION................................................................................ 1 Portfolio Products............................................................................... 3 Conceptual Background..................................................................3 Empirical Research......................................................................... 4 Practical Application...................................................................... 4 Implications for Future Work............................................................. 5 2.EMBRACING THE AESTHETICS OF INSTRUCTIONAL DESIGN7 Limits of a Technological Orientation................................................8 We Dont Talk About the Aesthetics of Instructional Design..........11 Belief One: Manipulation..............................................................12 Belief Two: Passivity.....................................................................13 Belief Three: Superficiality........................................................... 14 Belief Four: Difficulty................................................................... 16 Practicing Artful Instructional Design..............................................17 Beginnings.....................................................................................17 Middles.......................................................................................... 18 Endings..........................................................................................19 Conclusion........................................................................................ 20 3. LEARNING AS AESTHETIC EXPERIENCE: JOHN DEWEYS

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INTEGRATION OF ART, INQUIRY, AND EDUCATION................ 22 Linking Learning and Aesthetics......................................................22 Art, Broad and Narrow..................................................................... 23 Art Reconciled as Aesthetic Experience...........................................24 Art as Inquiry.................................................................................... 26 Inquiry as Expression....................................................................... 28 Additional Conditions for Aesthetic Learning Experiences.............29 Conclusion........................................................................................ 31

4. A FRAMEWORK FOR UNDERSTANDING LEARNING EXPERIENCE........................................................................................ 33 Introduction.......................................................................................33 A Proposed Framework of Experience.............................................34 Temporal Dimensions of Experience............................................ 34 Levels of Experience......................................................................35 Situational Qualities Influencing Experience............................... 37 Qualities of Individuals Influencing Experience...........................39 Conclusions.......................................................................................42 5. INVESTIGATING THE AESTHETIC DECISIONS OF TEACHERS AND INSTRUCTIONAL DESIGNERS................................................ 44 Aesthetic Experience......................................................................... 45 Procedures......................................................................................... 49 Data Collection..............................................................................49 Data Analysis.................................................................................51 Findings.............................................................................................51 Guiding Values.............................................................................. 52 Goals for Instruction......................................................................52 Student qualities.............................................................................53 Opening Qualities (Hooks, Novelty, Comfort)............................... 53

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Narrative Qualities........................................................................ 54 Identification..................................................................................54 Tension (Withholding)................................................................... 55 Limits (Student Acceptance, Practical Constraints).......................56 Middle Qualities (Growing Comfort, Boredom, Pattern, Routine)......................................................................................... 57 Climax, Turning Point................................................................... 57 Ending Qualities (Closure, Open-endedness)................................ 58 Teaching as Art..............................................................................58 Discussion......................................................................................... 59 The Aesthetic Experience of Instruction.........................................59 Conclusion.........................................................................................61 6. EXPERIENCES OF ENGAGEMENT WITH THE ONLINE LEARNING MODULE, USING THE WRF MESOSCALE MODEL. 63 Abstract............................................................................................. 63 Introduction....................................................................................... 63 Exploring Engagement...................................................................... 65 Module Design.................................................................................. 67 Research Questions........................................................................... 70 Research Methods............................................................................. 71 Research Results: Engagement Levels.............................................. 72 Level of Engagement......................................................................72 Discussion of Engagement Level Statistics.................................... 74 Qualitative Data on Level of Engagement..................................... 75 Items Correlated to Module Average Engagement.........................77 Additional Qualitative Data on Engagement................................. 77 Limitations of the Results...............................................................80 Research Results: Design Process..................................................... 83 Summary Discussion......................................................................... 84 7.AESTHETIC PRINCIPLES FOR INSTRUCTIONAL DESIGN.......87

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Abstract............................................................................................. 87 Introduction....................................................................................... 87 Considering Learning Experience..................................................... 88 The Importance of Aesthetic Experience...........................................90 Sources of Aesthetic Principles......................................................... 91 First Principles...................................................................................91 Principle 1: Learning Experiences Have Beginnings, Middles, and Endings (i.e., plots)..................................................................92 Principle 2: Learners Are the Protagonists of Their Own Learning Experiences.................................................................... 92 Principle 3: Learning Activity, Not Subject Matter, Establishes the Theme of Instruction................................................................ 93 Principle 4: Context Contributes to Immersion in the Instructional Situation................................................................... 94 Guidelines for Applying the First Principles..................................... 95 1.1: Begin by instilling tension, posing a problem, or pointing out conflicting information............................................................. 96 1.2: Learning experiences should create anticipation of consummation 96 1.3: Create sustained suspense by enhancing the complication.....97 1.4: Pattern, routine, or an established motif can sustain engagement....................................................................................98 1.5: Endings should integrate everything that has occurred up to that point....................................................................................98 2.1: Accept that learners, as protagonists, are fully human...........99 2.2: Allow dialogue to reveal character.......................................100 2.3: Foster a change or growth in sense of identity; make learning a rite of passage............................................................ 100 3.1: Theme and plot arise from subject matter but should be more than subject matter............................................................. 101 3.2: The theme should be believable and connect to experience....................................................................................101 4.1: Allow context to support theme and character......................101 4.2: Honor setting in instruction.................................................. 102 The Instructor as Author and Character........................................... 103 Principle 5: Instructors and Instructional Designers Are

Authors, Supporting Characters, and Model Protagonists...........103 Conclusion.......................................................................................104 8.DESIGN AS STORYTELLING........................................................106 Abstract........................................................................................... 106 Design as Storytelling......................................................................106 Design as Technical Problem Solving: A Dead End?...................... 107 Storytelling in the Design Process................................................... 108 Uses of Design Stories.....................................................................109 Stories in the Design Phase.......................................................... 109 Qualities of Design Stories in the Design Phase...........................111 Design Stories in Design Communication.................................... 112 Qualities of Design Stories for Design Communication...............114 Design Stories in Formative Evaluation....................................... 115 Qualities of Design Stories for Formative Evaluation..................116 Cultivating Empathy........................................................................117 Conclusion.......................................................................................119 9.PLOTTING A LEARNING EXPERIENCE..................................... 120 Abstract........................................................................................... 120 Beyond Technical Instructional Design........................................... 120 Aesthetic Instructional Design.........................................................121 Designing for Aesthetic Experience................................................ 125 Diagramming Narratives................................................................. 126 Diagramming Instructional Designs................................................ 131 Plotting Engagement Curves........................................................... 133 Using an Engagement Curve to Plan a Learning Experience...........137 Conclusions and Caveats................................................................. 138 APPENDIX A. SAMPLE INTERVIEW QUESTIONS...................................................142

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B. RESEARCH EXPLANATION................................................................144 C. THE DESIGN NARRATIVE..................................................................146 D. TREATMENT A SURVEY.....................................................................149 E. DESIGN STORY EXCERPT WITH STORYBOARD..........................158 F. CONTENT MATRIX...............................................................................161 G. STANDARDS MATRIX.........................................................................163 H. E2ML DIAGRAM FOR AIM-A-CANE EXERCISE FROM HURRICANE STRIKE!...................................................................................................165

BIBLIOGRAPHY................................................................................................167

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LIST OF FIGURES Figure 4.1 6.1 6.2 6.3 7.1 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5 9.6 9.7 9.8 9.9 9.10 9.11 9.12 E.1 E.2 E.3 Qualities and Levels of Experience.............................................................. 41 Narrative diagram of Using the WRF Mesoscale Model............................69 Engagement patterns of all participants......................................................... 73 Box plots of engagement level by section for Treatments A and B, showing mode, quartiles, and outliers............................................................74 Components of instructional environments................................................... 89 Aristotles Incline, depicting rising action, the three key divisions of a dramatic narrative, and the relationship of key dramatic plot points............127 Aristotles Incline applied to the plot of The DaVinci Code ........................128 Freytags Triangle, depicting increasing and falling complication..............129 The Heros Adventure, depicting a passage into an underworld of challenge and the return to prosperity..........................................................130 The Heros Adventure plotted as a graph.................................................... 130 The engagement curve of a typical formal learning experience ...................132 The Students Adventure as a cycle.............................................................133 The Students Adventure as graph...............................................................133 The Hurricane Strike! online module...........................................................135 The Using the WRF Model online module....................................................136 An engagement curve used for planning a course on instructional models for instructional designers............................................................... 138 Classifying Narrative Diagrams as a Notation System................................ 140 Initial Interface............................................................................................ 158 First Question.............................................................................................. 159 Supporting Topics..........................................................................................160

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LIST OF TABLES Table 3.1 6.1 7.1 8.1 F.1 G.1 Comparing Phases of Inquiry and Aesthetic Experience.............................27 Mean Engagement Level by Section and Average Module Engagement.......74 Connecting Aesthetic Principles to Learning and ID Theory.......................105 Guidelines for Design Stories...................................................................... 116 Hurricane Strike! Content Matrix................................................................ 161 Partial Matrix of Hurricane Strike! Content as related to Middle School U.S. National Science Education Standards................................................ 163

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CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION Like many good inquiries, I suspect, this one began with an argument actually a series of evolving arguments that played out during the early years of my career as an instructional designer. At first, the argument took the form of my confronting the initial resistance I felt from faculty toward my new role as an instructional designer at an urban community college. My orientation to instruction as science was frequently met with their insistence that it was more art than science. My own strong interest in the arts made me sympathetic to their stance, but I wasnt yet able to reconcile these stances and find a way to work comfortably within that culture. I wondered what it was about teaching that allowed its practitioners to have such divergent orientations. The question took hold and began to color my view toward my work in the years that followed. In a new position as the instructional designer of multimedia products that taught meteorological science and weather forecasting skills to professional forecasters, the tables turned and I found that I was the one arguing with developers and SMEs in support of the aesthetic concerns of our products. Why conversational tone in the writing mattered, why grounding content with a compelling or challenging idea would enhance learning, why font choice and attractive graphical interfaces would make a difference, why developing a story-like flow to the content rather than simply treating a list of topics was important, and why engaging learners in thoughtprovoking activities was crucialthese claims often seeded contentious arguments about the value of the time it took to achieve them. I was not quite ready to claim that what we were doing was art, but I became a staunch defender of artistic elements in our work. But I couldnt yet clearly answer why I was concerned with the merely aesthetic elements of our work. Beyond their being attractive, what arguments could I make that would convince a scientist of their value? Why did I feel these elements were important for learning? I was finally compelled to action by both the continued skepticism from development team members and from fellow training staff (non-professional trainers

IDs-by-assignment) from other meteorological training organizations, and by a growing schism I saw developing the ID field between a drive to mechanize (through software tools), or even automate (with intelligent ID systems) the design process and a competing drive to find connections to other design fields in which aesthetics, craft, and user experience play a more explicit role. What arguments can be made for a need for aesthetics in instructional design, similar to the aesthetics of architecture? What might the resulting aesthetic principles look like? I also began to look backward to the roots of my feelings about learning. I saw my own lifelong interest in learning as its own reward as indication that learning was more than acquisition of knowledge for achieving new ends. An inherent joy can arise from the process of learning, one on par with the elation we feel in the presence of great works of art, the emotional and intellectual revelations that come from reading a powerful novel, or the upwelling emotion felt when a compelling musical piece reaches its climax or heartfelt refrain. This phenomenon had much to do with my reasons for entering the ID field in the first place, I realizedthe fact that practicing ID allows me to exercise a love of learning (by working with subjectmatter experts to develop instructional content) and a love of teaching and designing media. I wondered what it was about the nature of learning experiences that generated an engagement equal to the engagement I felt when encountering good works of art. What did learning experiences have in common with aesthetic experiences that allowed people to enjoy them as inherently rewarding? These experiences and the questions they raised represent the problems of practice that drove my doctoral work. I began the inquiry by looking in the obvious places, to the traditional aesthetic principles of balance, unity, symmetry, focus, dynamism, etc., with which I could already discern parallels in instructional design. However, simply finding these parallels did little to justify their application in favor of, or even in addition to, those more scientifically oriented. An early insight that I now see as a turning point in my thinking was that principle of unity, or the striving a work of art makes towards unity, was actually the central and perhaps only necessary principle to describe how works of art move us. Other aesthetic principles either helped point toward unity or created tensions that forced us to struggle to achieve unity in our perception of the work. Moreover, unity and its opposites, separation or disunity, comprise fundamental psychological and philosophical tensions, connecting the arts to the broader experience of life. We are at once isolated individuals living under frequently

chaotic conditions, and social creatures harmonizing with society and with nature in our attempts to create coherent lives. The striving for unity provided a satisfying explanation for the connection I felt between learning and experiences with art. After experiencing this breakthrough, one I was not yet quite sure how to use, I finally discovered Deweys (1934/1989) aesthetic philosophy in which he had developed a similar concept of natural tension as the source of art. I have always been oriented toward naturalistic explanations, but have also been drawn to the idea of a transcendent Romantic imagination with a naturalistic source, so reading Deweys naturalistic metaphysics had an immediate impact on me. Dewey sought an explanation of art consistent with Darwinian theories about our origins and the processes of our growth. I have always been a firm believer in the theory that our perceptions of beauty in landscape paintings are at least partly due to the evolutionary advantages particular landscapes offer, but of course such a theory does not explain the power of Picassos Guernica. Dewey made the connection that did explain it. He suggested that aesthetic experience was only a special case, a heightened form of experience itself, and that works of art represent recreations, or celebrations, of our meaning making experiences. His work has continued to open my eyes to the larger concept of aesthetic experience as not only an explanation of the importance of art in our lives, but as a way to explain the joy we feel seeking challenges and achieving successes in our professional and everyday lives. Of course, it has also been the linchpin for linking learning, the most fundamental expression of the challenge and success cycle of living, to aesthetics. This philosophical discovery, as exciting as it was, was only the beginning of my work, and was not the only source I sought for understanding the relation between aesthetics and learning. The work of Bruner (1990), Bateson (1972), Eisner (2002), Jackson (1995), and Davies (1991) offered many interesting directions to pursue, but making a strong and practical connection to ID practice would require staking new ground. Egan (1986, 2007), in his development of ideas toward cultivating imagination within the K-12 curriculum, did offer some further inspiration and likemindedness. Philosophers other than Dewey have provided additional supportive ideas, particularly in regard to understanding experience and its dual affective and cognitive components, but Dewey continues to be on the mark with his breadth of explorations not only of art and human nature, but in his direct prescriptions for education as well.

While I have continued a philosophical inquiry, much of the work represented in this dissertation is practically oriented as well. In particular, I have been reaching to the arts and sister design fields to find principles and methods that instructional designers might apply to connect more directly to the learning experienceand help them strive for creating aesthetic, and more engaging, learning experiences. The following section describes the contribution each of the works makes toward the inquiry. Portfolio Products The products in the dissertation contribute primarily in one of three ways, although most contribute in several ways. The papers are arranged along a theoretical-to-practical spectrum. Conceptual Background These papers take a theoretical approach in exploring the nature of learning experiences and developing a rationale for applying the concept of aesthetic experience in making instruction engaging and compelling. They draw primarily, but not exclusively, from the philosophical works on aesthetics, experience, and education of John Dewey. Chapter 2, Embracing the Aesthetics of Instructional Design (Parrish, 2005), was written to introduce a potentially skeptical audience to the concept of aesthetic experience and its value for instructional designers. It takes a heads-on approach by challenging common misconceptions about the notion of aesthetics in the section, Why We Dont Talk About the Aesthetics of Instructional Design. It was the first of the papers in the portfolio to be published, and, accompanied by a presentation at the AECT Annual Conference, was my first engagement with a larger audience in the discipline on these topics. Chapter 3, Learning as Aesthetic Experience: John Deweys Integration of Art, Inquiry, and Education, systematically summarizes the philosophy of John Dewey to make a case for the connection between his theories of art and education by way of his theory of inquiry. It provides the substantive background a critical reader

might want to accompany many of the other chapters dealing with aesthetics and instruction. Chapter 4, A Framework for Understanding Learning Experience, the most recently written inclusion, offers a model of experience that could contribute to an agenda of research into learning experience or to developing design strategies for heightened learning experiences. It provides a more thorough and integrated theoretical background than that which drove the other work, so it also represents a culmination to the dissertation. Empirical Research The two papers in this section describe research into how instructional designers and learners interpret learning experiences. Chapter 5, Investigating the Aesthetic Decisions of Teachers and Instructional Designers (Parrish, 2004), the earliest work in the dissertation, describes my research into how practicing educators apply aesthetic principles. Taking a grounded theory approach, the study was meant to provide a realistic grounding to accompany my use of aesthetics theory as I developed aesthetic principles in follow-on work. It has been revised and shortened for the dissertation. Chapter 6, Experiences of Engagement with the Online Learning Module, Using the WRF Mesoscale Model, describes a recent study in which I performed interviews and used surveys to gather descriptions of learning experience by learners using an instructional product I had designed with aesthetic principles in mind. The focus was on the pattern of engagement the occurred during the learning experience. Practical Application In this final set of papers, I begin to develop a set of principles as recommendations for ID practice, as well as tools to help IDs better consider learning experience. The tools described are borrowed from those used in other design fields and in the art of fiction writing. Chapter 7, Aesthetic Principles for Instructional Design (Parrish, in press), represents another culminating paper, even though it was begun before the other two chapters in this section. Using Aristotles Poetics as a starting point, it develops a set

of prescriptive principles and associated guidelines for designing aesthetic learning experiences. Chapter 8, Design as Storytelling (Parrish, 2006a), draws from a strategy used in architectural and human-computer interaction design to describe a method for considering the narrative nature of a learning experience by writing the story of an imagined walk-through of the instruction by a learner. Chapter 9, Plotting a Learning Experience (Parrish, 2008a), the final chapter in the dissertation, expands upon the previous chapter by describing a graphical tool for plotting the learning experience in terms of level of engagement. Again drawing from Aristotle, the narrative diagram, which is used by fiction writings in helping them create engaging plot lines for stories, provides a way for designers to consider the impacts of beginnings, middles, and endings in the learning experiences of their instruction, and guides them toward including dramatic elements to heighten engagement. Implications for Future Work The work represented by this dissertation offers a modest glimpse of what a focus on learning experience might offer instructional designers and other educators. With a driving concern about learning experience rather than merely concern about cognitive and performance outcomes and subject matter, the potential exists not just for more frequent success in meeting standard outcomes, but also more frequently stimulating truly transformative learning experiencesones that learners might consider as significant points of change in their lives, ones that continue to resonate and stimulate the occurrence of additional positive growth experiences. At minimum, the potential exists for learning that is more fun and engaging than it might be otherwise. Due to persistent attitudes toward aesthetics as a superficial quality, there will continue to be limitations to the acceptance of this line of inquiry. The rise of the learning sciences, even though many learning scientists perceive the value of artful instructional treatments to stimulate engagement, suggests a lowered likelihood of a developing interest in experience as an important consideration for educators. At the other extreme, attitudes toward aesthetics as a transcendent experience will likely lead to overestimation of the importance of superficial qualities of instruction to the

detriment of searching for the aesthetic qualities to be found within any subject matter. With high value placed on surface production values, the truly important instructional impacts could be lost. Similarly, setting the outcomes bar too high could lead to frustration by practitioners. Not all learning experiences can be transformative, and not all learners are ready and willing to be transformed. Instructional designers can go only so far in influencing the progression of a learning experience. Additional outcomes of this inquiry should include an interest in additional research into learning experience. The complex, systemic, and fragile nature of learning experiences will make research difficult, but with persistence it could lead to interesting new perspectives. It is also likely that other models of aesthetic strategies drawn from the arts will be found to be useful. The aesthetics of architecture, music, and poetry offer useful ideas ripe for the picking by educators. The connections between ID and the sister design disciplines also deserve more rigorous exploration for alternative attitudes toward user experiences. The concept of experience is nearly as new to other technologists (McCarthy & Wright, 2004), but because many of the other design disciplines remain truer to their design origins, they are likely to find fruitful uses of the concept more quickly. New tools for practice that will assist in designing for and researching end experience are likely to arise in other disciplines earlier than in our own more conservative one.

CHAPTER 2 EMBRACING THE AESTHETICS OF INSTRUCTIONAL DESIGN I can well imagine an atheists last words: White, white! L-L-Love! My God!and the deathbed leap of faith. Whereas the agnostic, if he stays true to his reasonable self, if he stays beholden to dry, yeastless factuality, might try to explain the warm light bathing him by saying, Possibly a f-f-failing oxygenation of the b-b-brain, and, to the very end, lack imagination and miss the better story. Yann Martel This article addresses a prevalent reluctance to acknowledge the aesthetic aspects of instructional design (ID), and argues that this mistake can limit the effectiveness of instruction. Why write such an article for a special section of Educational Technology devoted to cultural studies and instructional technology? It is appropriate because it addresses an aspect of ID culture that deeply effects the learners it serves and the practitioners that comprise it. Forty years ago, C. P. Snow (1965) described a growing division between the sciences and the arts/humanities, a division he characterized as two clashing cultures. This division clearly still exists today, although at least many now acknowledge the unnecessary damage of its disruption and work to minimize it (e.g., Wilson, 1998). I argue here that ID culture, while far beyond the stuffiness of both camps in the dispute that Snow described, leans strongly toward the science and technology camps, ignoring a powerful aspect of its nature. The term aesthetics can evoke a variety of meanings, some of which lead to the reluctance of instructional designers to talk about it. In this article I apply a conception of aesthetics, drawn from the American pragmatist philosophers, that does much more than describe the impact of the surface of thingsthe shapes, colors, and textures that appeal to our senses. While aesthetics has always been used to describe

the relationship of art to culture, as well as to explain how works of art achieve their impact on us, pragmatist aesthetics sees this relationship and impact as indicative of something much more pervasive. The pragmatist conception describes a quality that exists equally in the experiences of everyday life as in the fine arts, and one that certainly applies to the learning experiences we design as instructional designers.

Limits of a Technological Orientation Instructional designers frequently point to their affiliations with the other design disciplines and look to them as useful analogues of their practice (e.g., Bolling, 2003). The connection between instructional design and architectural design is particularly appropriate (Gibbons, 2003a; Gibbons, Nelson, & Richards, 2002), both being disciplines aimed at shaping behavior and experience by creating a context for activity. In a very direct sense, both ID and architecture seek to facilitate performance. They can even both be seen as facilitating knowledge construction, especially when we consider knowledge as distributed within a community (Bell & Winn, 2000) and embedded within our tools, artifacts, and surroundings (Norman, 1993). Like all design practices, they both rely on a combination of science, technology, and craft, as well as an understanding of human psychology and culture, to achieve these goals. But instructional designers and ID theorists are typically selective in the connections they draw to other design disciplines. For example, while they are interested in seeking the technological and problem-solving connections (Gibbons et al., 2002; Gibbons, 2003b), they typically ignore the fact that architects and other designers often first and foremost refer to the aesthetic aspects of their work when they explain it. Architects describe an architectural structure not just in terms of its ability to stand or in how it provides the facilities and services to support designated functions, but also in how its sensory qualities have an emotional impact on users, inspiring them to enter its spaces to participate in intended activities, and in how it increases the significance of what they do there. Architecture holds the power to inspire and transform our day-to-day existence. The everyday act of pressing a door handle and entering

into a light-washed room can become profound when experienced through sensitized consciousness. To see, to feel these physicalities is to become a subject of the senses. (Holl, 1999, p. 14) Architects discuss how a structure relates to its site not just in terms of the requirements and constraints that factor into a design solution, but also in sensual, social, cultural, and symbolic terms. They discuss the interior and exterior of the structure not just in terms of how their size, shape, texture, and layout facilitate activities, but also in terms of how they create a unified aesthetic experience for users: The form of [Nexus, the Denver Art Museum expansion project] counterposes a lateral horizontal movement to the tower-like massing of the Ponti building. . . . This strategy allows for a balance in the entire complex by providing a light and floating form to contrast with the castlelike solidity of the Ponti building. . . . The titanium skyline will gradually and subtly transform from opacity through translucency to transparency, with cascades of glazing bringing natural light where required. The mass of the building dissolves at the contoured glass tip, becoming a beacon across space. (Libeskind, 2000, pp. 132-133) Similarly, instructional designers could, but rarely do, discuss the qualitative immediacy of learning environments: the rhythms of instructional activities; methods for creating dramatic tension and revealing unity within content sequences; strategies that provide memorable closure to learning experiences; the visual impact of computer interfaces, texts, and classrooms. Instead, instructional designers are often more beholden to the dry, yeastless qualities of their work, and rarely discuss their role in inspiring and moving learners. For example, in Gibbons (2003a) insightful work of analyzing what and how designers design, he makes a strong connection between ID and architecture by showing how designs in both disciplines can be seen as existing in layers, from their surface properties (in ID, how media are shaped), to more fundamental properties like structure (design strategies or also, in the case of ID, models of expertise). Following Brand (1994), Gibbons begins by assuming that architects see a building as a system

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of layers rather than as a unitary designed entity (p. 23). The goals of Gibbons and Brandsustainability and reuseare admirable enough, and should certainly be considered by all designers. Yet as a primary design principle, a modular approach in which these layers are highly separated is linked primarily to a modernist aesthetic, one that has led to a bleak and hostile legacy . . . in cities around the world (Wines, 2000, p. 12). Expressing a realization similar to that of Norman (2004) about the importance of the emotional qualities of designs, Wines (2000) points out that without art, the whole idea of sustainability fails (p. 9) because people will choose not to preserve works that arent aesthetically engaging. Exceptions may seem to exist, and Brand (1994) points out several low road examples of architectural works whose longevity is apparently due to flexibility rather than aesthetic value. But even in these cases, it is the acquired aesthetic qualities that are a primary reason for their preservationtheir history and accumulated of stories about what has occurred there, their increased ability to engage tenants to participate in their (re)design, and the appeal of the anti-high-road statement they make. While Gibbons (2003a) acknowledges the importance of articulation between each of the layers of a design (granting at least a functional value to unity), he also proposes that instructional designers, as they mature, typically evolve through a sequence of centrisms, or layer-focuses (mediamessagestrategymodel, in that order), in reaching the peak of their expertise. Again, the analysis of four-levels of design is a useful insight, but Gibbons uses this construct to further slight the aesthetic qualities of ID. In effect, media and message qualities (those typically considered to be aesthetic in nature), while not ignored, are devalued as simpler, surface qualities in an instructional design. As he sees it, they often capture the full attention of novices, but experts are correct in giving them lesser emphasis. I would argue that many instructional designers, due to the emphasis we place in ID education and research, actually begin their careers with a strategy or model centrism, and never learn to appreciate the importance of the media or message layers in creating an integrated experience. If unity were truly valued, as it would be with an aesthetic orientation, one would hope that a designer would evolve beyond any centrism at all and embrace all layers of a design as contributing equally to its success. In architecture, the unity of a work is never simply the result of articulation between its separate layers. Frank Lloyd Wright, for example, refused many of the modernist tenets and created organic works in which site, structure, and material merged from

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the outset. Wright felt that no house should ever be on any hill or on anything. It should be of the hill, belonging to it, so hill and house could live together each the happier for the other (cited in Heyer, 1978, p. 64). In nearly all the design disciplines, including architecture, industrial design, and graphic design, aesthetic aspects are of high, if not primary importance to both designers and end-users (Postrel, 2003). Yet as instructional designers, we hardly consider them at allor at least one might come to that conclusion given the dearth of publications on the topic. Only rarely are the aesthetic qualities of instruction mentioned in our literature (rare exceptions include Davies, 1991). In suppressing the aesthetic nature of our work, we not only ignore much of the heart of what we do, much of what makes the profession a rewarding one to undertake, but also risk promoting practice that could lead to un-engaging, and therefore ineffective, products (see Allen, 2003; Norman, 2004). In choosing to remain quiet about the aesthetics of ID, in assuming that the topic is one about which we should be agnostic, we limit the vocabulary we can use to explore how learners engage with and find meaning in learning activities. Intuitively, most instructional designers know the value of attractively designed materials and classrooms, well-told stories, careful pacing and timing of instructional activities, and balance and closure in instructional units, courses, or degree programs (Parrish, 2004). Of course, how we decide what is attractive, well told, well paced, balanced, and closed can be couched in psychological terms. But told in aesthetic terms, the story of these qualities is richer, and their persistent mystery is not overlooked or undervalued in the desire for predictability. My purpose in this article is not to claim that instructional design is an art, at least not in the contemporary sense of the term art. I feel that instructional design is a part of a broader design tradition, and that the design way (Nelson and Stolterman, 2003) is likely more primary than art, arising from practical attempts to affect our environment for survival and improvement. However, I am suggesting that the distinctions between art and design are not as obvious as they might at first seem, because aesthetic qualities are inherent in both. I suspect that the distinctions we typically draw are more accidental than essential, more a matter of expectations and cultural priorities. Art and the design disciplines are siblings, with similar motivations and goalsmost fundamentally, to bring order and meaning to life through conscious manipulation of our environment. In the next section of this paper I will defend the

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artistic aspects of design from what I feel are mischaracterizations, ones of manipulation and proselytizing (Nelson & Stolterman, p. 67), self-centeredness (Visscher-Voerman & Gustafson, 2004), and being concerned only with surface qualities, to the neglect of function (Brand, 1994). Why We Dont Talk About the Aesthetics of Instructional Design The reasons we avoid talking about aesthetics in instructional design have a lot to do with our limited conceptions of that word. Ostensibly, aesthetics describes our experience of and passion for creating art, but John Dewey and others saw it as applying much more broadly. In developing a pragmatist theory of aesthetics in his work, Art and Experience (1934/1989), Dewey considered the aesthetic as a prevalent and essential kind of experience. He proposed that the aesthetic grows out of the rhythmic alternation of disruption and order, struggles and achievements (p. 19), in our lives. In other words, art arises out of the rhythms of everyday experience and epitomizes our nature as intentional beings establishing and achieving goals. As Dewey put it: Life consists of phases in which the organism falls out of step with the march of surrounding things and then recovers unison with it. . . . And, in a growing life, the recovery is never mere return to a prior state, for it is enriched by the state of disparity and resistance through which it has successfully passed. . . . Here in germ are balance and harmony attained through rhythm. (p. 14) An aesthetic experience is one that is particularly heightened and especially meaningful. In this sense, the aesthetic is a potential not only of the arts, but all activity. For Dewey, the concept of art also had broad application (as it did in ancient Greece), referring to any effort to make desired changes in the environment that increase our sense of unity with it. In this sense, art could apply as much to education, agriculture, and politics as to painting, music, and drama, and aesthetics could be seen as a key element in each of those practices. From the standpoint of pragmatist aesthetics (Berleant, 1991; Dewey, 1934; Shusterman, 2000), works of art are merely refined and intensified forms of

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experience (Dewey, p. 3), and not different in nature from more commonplace experiences. I suggest that in creating instructional designs, we are also in the business of creating refined and intensified forms of experience, yet we avoid talking about a quality essential to enhancing that experience. We hold beliefs about aesthetics, drawn from historical, but still prevailing, conceptions of it, that lead us to feel it has little place in the process of instruction. In the remainder of this section I examine four sets of beliefs that might prevent us from perceiving its value to education and training. For each belief, I offer responses from a pragmatist viewpoint that refute its basis and suggest that instructional designers should consider aesthetic experience as an important element in their designs. Belief One: Manipulation Applying aesthetics is a manipulation that tricks learners into caring about what they are learning, or even creates the illusion of learning. Contemporary goals of education include helping to emancipate learners as thinking individuals and supporting their developing identities as members of community of practice. Achieving these goals allows learners to become agents in a complex, ever-changing world. The goal is not to mold learners according to the current canon, leaving them unable to adapt to the evolving environment. Focusing on the aesthetic qualities of instruction might be seen as playing against these purposes. After all, the arts can be full of subterfuge and misdirection that play on audience emotions rather than encouraging thought. While some works of art can be manipulative, we typically experience these works as failures. As Dewey (1934/1989) puts it, in such works, There is no personally felt emotion guiding the selecting and assembling of the materials presented. . . . We are irritated by a feeling that [the artist] is manipulating materials to secure an effect decided upon in advance. . . . The author, not the subject matter, is the arbiter. (p. 68) The aesthetic arises out of experience; it is not something imposed upon it. While an artist can put in place the conditions in which aesthetic experience might

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arise, she does not create that experience. It is up to the viewer whether aesthetic potential is achieved. In Deweys perspective, art is a form of inquiry in which the role of inquirer is shared. In the creation of the art product, the inquirer is the artist, but in the appreciation of the product, each appreciator becomes another inquirer. In the end, the objective of an artistic inquiry, or the work of art, is an experience that is had by both the artist and the appreciator. In other words, the successful artist is not manipulating a viewers experience, even though she can be seen as facilitating it. In its generalized form, aesthetic experience begins with tension and imbalance, or a felt need, but also offers the promise of consummation, or balance regained. This is seen most clearly in the arts in the use of dramatic or musical tension. The pattern of tension and consummation is thwarted if the work of art is not a genuine experience, one which hangs together and rings true. Artful approaches to educational activities aimed toward achieving this pattern can be a powerful force to orient learners and integrate learning, as long as the subject matter is the arbiter. If aesthetic tension and consummation arise from problems and issues emerging from the subject matter, and are not imposed merely as an arbitrary framework, learning will be far from illusory. Belief Two: Passivity Emphasis on aesthetic qualities encourages passivity and supplants goal development more directly related to the instructional content. The arts are often felt to generate passivity, or at most, a shallow and meaningless kind of engagement that provides primarily escapist value (Shusterman, 1995). In other words, an artful approach to instruction might be assumed to be one that focuses on an instructors self-expression, with the learner as audiencecertainly not a desired quality according to current learning theories. What we desire instead is that students develop personal and shared goals, with ends centered on becoming more knowledgeable in the subject area and more able to participate within a discipline. Contrary to this belief, pragmatist aesthetics views engagement as a defining quality of the arts (Berleant, 1991). It is the contribution we ourselves make [to the work of art], a contribution that is active and participatory (p. 4). When we read a novel or listen to a piece of music, the experience is uniquely ours due to the contribution we make to its interpretation (Rosenblatt, 1985). But, aesthetic qualities

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contribute to our engagement with all the objects and events of life, not just art. In Deweys conception, experience, including aesthetic experience, is both doing and undergoing. Instead of signifying being shut up within ones own private feelings and sensations, it signifies active and alert commerce with the world; at its height it signifies complete interpenetration of self and the world of objects and events (Dewey, 1934, p. 19). In searching for the roots of aesthetic experience, Dewey tells us we must begin in the events and scenes that hold the attentive eye and ear of man, arousing his interest and affording him enjoyment as he looks and listens. . . . The sources of art in human experience will be learned by him who sees how the tense grace of the ball-player infects the onlooking crowd; who notes the delight of the housewife in tending to her plants . . .; the zest of the spectator in poking the wood burning on the hearth and in watching the darting flames and crumbling coals. (pp. 4-5) What these examples have in common is an engagement that can be intellectual, emotional, and/or physical, and that implies an investment of attention in anticipation of future consequences. Just as artworks can be designed to draw in readers or viewers to puzzle out a plot or empathize with characters, to approach a painting or walk around a sculpture, or even to have the vicarious somatic experience of watching a dance, learning experiences might be designed aesthetically to stimulate each of these forms of engagement. Contemporary learning theory suggests increased demands for learners to do, and not merely undergo, so instructional designs that encourage engagement through aesthetic experience may be a force in creating the conditions for learning. But aesthetic experience is not achieved through just any activity, it must be motivated by a felt need in the learner, which can either be discovered by the teacher individually for each student (a difficult, if not impossible task), or stimulated by revealing meaningful problems, issues, and puzzles arising from the subject matter. Additionally, during this activity there must be a sense of impending consummation, one that is anticipated throughout and is recurrently savored with special intensity (Dewey, 1934, p. 55). In other words, problems and issues should be presented as

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solvable, or at least definable. Learning during such activity becomes an act of expression on the part of the student in which the turmoil marks the place where inner impulse and contact with the environment, in fact or in idea, meet and create a ferment (p. 66). In other words, artful instruction is not teacher-centered at all. Belief Three: Superficiality Emphasizing aesthetic qualities can distract us from the true goals of instruction. Aesthetic qualities are superficial, with little potential contribution to knowledge construction. The arts are frequently seen as lacking meaning of the sort we strive for in instruction. Aesthetic qualities are considered to be on the surface, a pleasant froth, having little to do with the world we want learners to connect to and perform within. The aesthetic attitude is often assumed to be one of disinterest, in which the viewer is indifferent to the art object and subject except in its appearance or representation, and is unconcerned with its practical utility, including its role as a source of intellectual or sensual gratification (Cooper, 1995, p. 24). That the aesthetic implies an attitude of disinterest is easy to refute, and yet difficult to dismiss from argument because it pervades so thoroughly the world view in which science and rationality take precedence. Any powerful narrative is enough to illustrate that art is not separate from our worldly concerns, yet we tend to place a wall between art and science/technology in order to separate unpractical concerns, those purely for enjoyment, from those with practical and theoretical repercussions. Yet for the pragmatists, this line was not defined. William James saw that both art and science (as well as philosophy) arose from the drive to gather up the abundance of the rich variety of the world as it enters into our experience, (Seigfried, 1990, p. 131). As evidence, he points out that the criteria for success in both aesthetic and scientific work are richness (fullness of data), simplicity (of conception [e.g., Occams Razor]), and harmony, (breadth of consistency achieved through richness and simplicity). Fellow pragmatist Josiah Royce called this the law of least effort, pointing out that the effort of consciousness seems to be to combine the greatest richness of content with the greatest definiteness of organization (cited in Seigfried, 1990, p. 131). Furthermore, both artist and scientist proceed by looking for associations by similarity rather than merely associations by contiguity (p. 132).

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Dewey saw both art and science as processes of inquiry. Their distinctions lie only in their subject matters and in their level of abstraction. In science, meanings are related to one another on the ground of their character as meanings, freed from direct reference to the concerns of a limited group (Dewey, 2000b, p. 489). In contrast, art, as an activity in the realm of common sense (a category in which Dewey would also place technology), stays connected to the immediate qualities of experience in order to establish objects of use and enjoyment (p. 488): Tangled scenes of life are made more intelligible in esthetic experience: not, however, as reflection and science render things more intelligible by reduction to conceptual form, but by presenting their meanings as the matter of a clarified, coherent, and intensified or impassioned experience. (Dewey, 1934, p. 290) In fact, the subject matter of artistic inquiry is experience itselfexperience in all its nuances, not just isolated qualities. This subject matter particularly includes those heightened and intensified forms of experience that are aesthetic. Aesthetic qualities are not merely superficial; however, they do not treat the surfaces of things as unimportant to experience. Art both is and is about experience. In contrast, science, as traditionally practiced, is about isolated qualities of experience. This allows generalizations to appear, but often misses the richness of particulars. Like James, Dewey saw the aesthetic as a necessary component underlying all activity, whether intellectual or artistic: Not only is this quality [of aesthetics] a significant motive in undertaking intellectual inquiry and in keeping it honest, but . . . no intellectual activity is an integral event . . . unless it is rounded out with this quality. Without it, thinking is inconclusive. (Dewey, 1934, p. 38) Yet educators are often most concerned with the primary meanings of their subject matters, treating instruction only as a straightforward inquiry concerned with the concepts and problems of their fields, and not its mysteries and motivations. In addition, they may overlook the immediate qualities of the learning experience that

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might help to make it an integral event. By helping learners, through artful instruction, inquire into the motives for learning and practicing a discipline, the criteria for successful expression of ideas within the discipline, the emotional dimensions inherent in its practice, and the reigning tensions that exist in the literature of the discipline, educators may help achieve learning that is enhanced by aesthetic experience. For example, the organization in which I work provides professional development opportunities in the form of classroom courses and computer-based training for government and military weather forecasters. We could choose to limit our goals to providing purely science instruction, teaching about meteorological principles and theoretical concepts that will help forecasters better understand weather phenomena and the conditions that create and support them. We could add further aspects to the instruction that situate it in the technical realities of forecaster practice, including training in the best use of the available data for analyzing and diagnosing weather conditions. However, to address the aesthetic dimensions, our instruction would not ignore the frustrations in having to make decisions within limiting time-constraints and with insufficient data, the pressures to achieve accuracy even when there are many unknowns, the cultural or political factors that may underlie the choice between applying one of several competing theories or procedures, the pressures and motivations that make one either eager or reluctant to make certain forecasts, or, finally, the rewards of having a forecast prove accurate. None of these final aspects of practice are superficial or unimportant from an aesthetic perspective. Belief Four: Difficulty Attention to the aesthetics of practice demands heightened sensibilities which only artists possess. It places unreasonable expectations on the rest of us. Many feel that the arts are something unassailable, if not inexplicable to most of us. Some claim that art is a game played by those in an artworld that is inaccessible to the rest of us except by invitation (Dickie, 1989). As Dewey demonstrates, however, art has its germ in the everyday struggles and achievements in a world of things (1934, p. 19). Aesthetic experience is not only accessible to everyone; it is an inherent quality of our lives. The aesthetic is not found

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only in those refined and intensified forms of experience that are works of art, but also in the everyday events, doings, and sufferings that are universally recognized to constitute experience (p. 3). While art makes aesthetic experience its subject matter, it doesnt own it. Being artful is a matter of common sense, not uncommon sensibility. To achieve artful instruction one looks for opportunities for learners to inquire into the inherent mysteries and issues of a subject matter, not, as it might seem, for ways to make glorious depictions of it. Every expert immersed in her subject matter, and by extension the instructional designer working with her, has the tools for creating artful instruction. Just as art is inquiry for both artist and appreciator, designers need to remember that the process of inquiry is not theirs alone in the design process. Rather than offering predetermined answers, there must be room for doubt and tension in the minds of learners that can propel them toward a consummation of learning that is personal. Of course, to make learning an inquiry into the rich nuances of experience, designers must also attend to its qualitative immediacy and not simply the instructional strategies being employed. This includes attention to its unity, emotional currents, and sensory dimensions. This requirement makes artful instruction a skillful activity, but not an unassailable one. Practicing Artful Instructional Design In this final section I describe three fundamental criteria for artful instruction and provide brief guidelines for aesthetic strategies. From a Deweyan perspective, these three criteria are tension, consummation (including its anticipation), and immediacy. While I dont intend to offer formulas for aesthetic experience, which would no doubt be a very unartful thing to do, something akin to a very general model does emerge when we look at the nature of formal learning experiences in courses and modules of computer-based instruction, and their relation to the temporally constrained art forms like music, film, and literature. This model is derived from research into the aesthetic decisions of several teachers and instructional designers (Parrish, 2004). Like the temporally constrained arts, formal instruction has a beginning, middle, and end, and how these are treated has a profound impact on the learning experience. As I look at each of these phases of instruction, I will draw

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connections to art forms, particularly music, that provide useful analogies and suggestions for design strategies. Beginnings Because learners may enter a formal instructional situation with a wide range of anticipatory feelings, potentially including fear or skepticism, the teacher or instructional designer must initially work to gain interest and trust. The trust of even an initially optimistic learner may be tenuous, so the presence of motivation does not preclude the need for trust- and interest-building. Interest is generated through tension or felt need, posing a situation in which frustration or imbalance is introduced a puzzle or issue about the topic, a challenge or mystery to solve, a problem to engage with. Trust is gained by demonstrating to learners that the experience will be worthwhile, that it will lead to consummation. When Cavell (1976) advises artists about this obligation, he could also be speaking to instructional designers: In art, the chances you take are your own. But of course you are inviting others to take them with you. And since they are, nevertheless, your own, and your invitation is based not on power or authority, but on attraction and promise, your invitation incurs the most exacting of obligations: that every risk must be shown worthwhile, and every infliction of tension lead to a resolution, and every demand on attention and passion be satisfied . . . (p. 199) In music, more specifically in the sonata form used in Classical symphony, tension is created by shifting from the tonic to the dominant key and developing an anticipation that the tonic will return to resolve the musical tension created by the opposition of keys (Slonimsky, 1989). Within instruction, similar tension might be created by contrasting competing philosophical or value bases within a field, or seeming incongruencies that exist. Similar to the dramatic conflict found in narratives (see Egan [1986] for a discussion of how to use narrative conflict in teaching), this tension might serve not only to create individual dissonance, but also to support community-building by developing shared goals among learners (Wilson, LudwigHardman, Thornam, & Dunlap, 2004).

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The final quality of artful instruction, immediacy, is addressed in instructional beginnings by attending to the formal qualities of the instructional environment that support entry into its activities. Well designed Web pages, effective use of multimedia, engaging conversation and presentation, frequent and encouraging online discussionall these not only provide clear instructional communication, but also offer comfort and enjoyment, demonstrate care and respect for learners, and compel learners into the inquiry. Middles By the middle of a formal instructional experience, if the instructional designer or instructor has done well, learners will have forgotten fears and overcome skepticism and find themselves immersed in the difficult and lengthy processes of learning. Inevitably, some of the luster of the new experience is lost, and only if learners are willing to continue to suspend disbelief and maintain the temporarily crafted relationship between teacher and learner will their engagement stay intact. In a symphony, as well as in most movies, the middle movement proceeds in a quieter and more thoughtful pace than does the opening, often allegro, movement. This is the time for adagio, for deepening reflection and commitment to the experience. Commitment is often maintained by having a pattern or ritual to activities and assignments. This may include reestablishing earlier themes, which works to bring out the underlying unity of the experience. In courses and well-developed communities of practice, commitment is helped by the sense of community that emerges in shared experience. By the middle, it also should be clear that learning goals are achievable. In this phase, learners may need a road map to help them see where the experience is leading. The possibility of consummation must be anticipated, even if the path to those goals still contains difficult challenges along the way. In this phase, tension is maintained, but it may be a deeper and more personally relevant tension, one connected to questions of how learning goals will be achieved. In music and narrative, the tension of a middle movement is broader as well, anticipating a closure that only the final movement can provide, a closure that is more profound than those experienced up to that point. If that final closure proves not to be more profound, the entire experience may feel flat.

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Endings In a Classical symphony, the final movement returns to an energetic pace, typically even more boisterous than the beginning. Similarly, instructional experiences typically conclude in a fluster of activity. Final papers and projects are due, and may seem like a last heroic deed to be accomplished. A final exam may loom like an impending final battle, ready to swallow the learners energies. The mental and physical exhaustion that accompanies this conclusion, if it is not excessive and defeating, adds emotional intensity to the feeling of consummation and restored order when it is finally complete. However, in learning experiences, closure is never absolute. Regarding education and growth, Dewey (2000a) concludes that life is development, and that development, growing, is life. In other words, there is no end (in both its senses of finality and goal) to development that will tell us that no further growth is necessary. In this light, he sees that the educational process is one of continual reorganizing, reconstructing, transforming (p. 496). Instead of bringing finality, learning experiences should propagate into new learning experiences; growth should lead to more growth. Accordingly, while an ending to instruction should provide closure to the inquiry that pervaded it, offering opportunities for learners to reflect on what theyve learned and helping to tie the preceding activities into a unified whole, there should also be a reference to the fact that there is more learning to be achieved beyond the experience. The pattern of pacing for the three phases of formal instructional experiences described above (energeticmoderateenergetic) suggests quick immersion into the flow of an activity, a period of reflection and reconciliation of previous patterns of life with new ones, and finally a full commitment to see the process through to completion and resolve remaining tensions. Obviously, many other kinds of learning experiences exist where this pattern does not apply as directly. Also, there are many other possible interpretations of the aesthetic nature of formal learning, particularly as we look at what occurs in the individual classes and interactions that comprise larger learning experiences. If we apply interpretive techniques from other art forms architecture or the novel, for examplewe could derive other useful models as well. Furthermore, as the true distinctions that exist between the fine arts and instructional

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design become well identified (beyond the false distinctions looked at earlier in this article), we could also engage in the work of developing a unique aesthetic of instruction that helps us understand and evaluate this quality. Conclusion Many contemporary instructional theories acknowledge the role of inquiry in learning and thus create an increased opportunity for aesthetic experience to emerge as learners engage in meaningful activity. All forms of active learning strategies such as problem-based learning (Savery & Duffy, 1996), case-based learning (Kolodner & Guzdial, 2000), generative learning (Wittrock, 1990), and intentional learning environments (Dunlap & Grabinger, 1996)allow learners to experience the rhythm of imbalance and balance regained that is the root of aesthetic experience. It shouldnt be surprising that psychology would lead to many of the same conclusions about experience and personal growth as does art. After all, both are methods of inquiry into human experience. However, in sticking to its scientific worldview, psychology may not be seeing the whole picture. Art, as a holistic approach to the inquiry of experience, sacrifices precision, but may offer something valuable in its place. Some have looked at the processes that instructors and instructional designers use and have drawn parallels with the ways artists practice (Davies, 1991; Eisner, 1998)for example, the way that planning and implementation are often simultaneous activities. Others have investigated the role of narrative in knowing and learning (McEwan & Egan, 1995). What I am proposing is more fundamental than these efforts. I suggest that we examine the ways in which instructional designers can and do make decisions similar to those artists make in producing their work, look to strategies derived from the arts that could help in creating artful instruction, and consider the extent to which the aesthetic experience of learners is important to learning. Doing so does not minimize the importance of science in instructional design, but adds aesthetics as a core foundation for instructional practice, alongside science (see Wilsons [this issue] concept of Four Pillars of Practice for a discussion of other ID foundations). Aesthetic experience doesnt lie outside the intellectual activity typically associated with learning. In fact, it undergirds that activity. If learners construct their

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knowledge through active participation in the world, it is in part the aesthetic that provides the purposes for doing so, tells them when they have succeeded, and gives satisfaction and motivation to continue. In fact, it may be more truthful to say that people compose their knowledge, rather than construct it, just as much according to inspiration and a sense of right-feeling, as to logic and expert models. Embracing the aesthetics of instruction is a pragmatic way to approach the problems of education and training, not an idealistic gesture. In many ways, it is merely following one of the core values in the discipline of instructional design, that of systems thinking. As we continue to broaden our conception of learning ecologies to include not merely the instructional context, but also the whole learner, it becomes necessary to include those aspects of learning experiences that are aesthetic as well as cognitive and social. It becomes important to engage learners more completely, through their hearts, minds, and imaginations. Accordingly, the field of instructional design needs to be open not only to the contributions of the learning sciences, but also to the potential discoveries of an inquiry into the instructional arts.

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CHAPTER 3 LEARNING AS AESTHETIC EXPERIENCE: JOHN DEWEYS INTEGRATION OF ART, INQUIRY, AND EDUCATION Linking Learning and Aesthetics Although too frequently ignored, one of the central problems in formal learning situations is ensuring learners have sufficient desire to learn and develop the positive attitudes toward content that will support current and future learning. The relationship of this problem to aesthetics, however, is too rarely pursued. Aesthetics as an appreciation of beauty is recognized as akin to desire to learn and positive attitude toward content, and it remains a separate component of development within the affective domain of learning outcomes (Martin & Reigeluth, 1999). The affective domain in turn is placed in contrast to the privileged cognitive domain, and therefore receives less attention (Krathwohl, Bloom, & Masia, 1964). The resulting dichotomy may lead to the prescription of separate (even if interwoven) educational curricula based on the assumption that different learning goals and objectives are being targeted (Martin & Reigeluth, 1999). In other words, in regards to aesthetics, the separation may call for separate courses dedicated to the arts either to instill an appreciation of aesthetic beauty or skill in creating beautiful things. In core courses, instructors may include options for artistic expression by students (even in courses presumably dedicated to cognitive skill development) as an alternative way for students to demonstrate their grasp of course content through an aesthetic way of knowing (Eisner, 2002). In the end though, because a separation continues, the possibility of applying aesthetics to the problem of instilling desire to learn remains incompletely explored. But the interconnection between the cognitive and affective goals of education is not lost on the authors cited above, even if a surface appreciation of their work might propagate the dichotomy. In fact, Krathwohl et al. (1964) express reluctance about their taxonomy, devoting an entire chapter to discussing the arbitrary

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separation of the affective and cognitive domains, and demonstrating how nearly all cognitive objectives have an affective component if we search for it (p. 48). Similarly, Martin and Reigeluth (1999) also devote substantial introductory comments to the possibility that emotional development is an essential foundation for and component of cognitive development (p. 489). My goal in this paper is to explore further the integration of the affective and cognitive in experience. In particular, I will focus on aesthetic experience and related concepts as central to this integration, with the intention of deriving implications for teaching and instructional design. This is not to say that this connection isnt already recognized, at least intuitively, by many teachers and instructional designers. Their strategies include, among others, allowing dramatic tension or mystery to arise from the subject matter, establishing and maintaining trust in a potential payoff for student efforts, and fostering an integrated learning experience with an immediately apparent, or developing, unity of activities. Many instructional theories already recognize the importance of aesthetic considerations, even if these are couched in terms like motivation rather than dramatic tension or alignment of instruction rather than unity. However, a better understanding of how aesthetic experience takes place in learning, especially in profound and transformative learning experiences, could allow us to expand our repertoire of instructional approaches and suggest more effective ways to embody existing instructional theory. John Deweys philosophical works on art, inquiry, and education, especially when viewed together, provide a useful foundation on which to claim that the dichotomy of affective and cognitive domains of learning is counterproductive. Deweys work suggests that experience is the proper unit of analysis for studying human activity, not the narrower components of cognition, emotion, or physical activity. From this broader perspective, art practice and appreciation, scientific and naturalistic inquiry, and education and learning not only demonstrate a common connection between the person and external things and events, but also share the common goal of achieving unity or stability in the world by developing an understanding of our current and potential place within it. This paper draws from Deweys work to demonstrate that a useful model of learning should include a place for aesthetic experience.

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Art, Broad and Narrow The concept of art is commonly used in one of two sensesone narrow and one broad. The narrow sense typically comes first to mind. In this case, art refers to the fine or popular arts, the collection of activities whose goal is to create products and performances that stimulate emotionally charged thought or deep feeling in those who engage with themfiction and poetry, paintings, plays, musical compositions, etc. The ability to engage fully with art in the narrow sense is often thought to require connoisseurship or good taste (or at minimum, acquired taste). However, people in all cultures are attracted to and engage in the arts, and this universal attraction is the stimulus to inquiry by philosophers of art, or aestheticians. The second, broader sense of the word art is used in reference to highly skilled or creative application of our powers to affect our world. Rather than the narrow set of activities associated with the first sense of art, here it can apply to nearly any human activity. We might say, That quarterback makes football look like an art, Dr. Smith is an artist with his scalpel, This young scientist is the Mozart of our field, or even, The President is artful at diverting attention from the real issues. The ability to appreciate art in the broad sense similarly requires a form of connoisseurship. It requires sufficient insight into the activity to recognize expert and creative performance. Although distinct today, these two senses of the word art were not always considered separate. For instance, ars in ancient Greece referred to any effort to make desired changes in the environment that increase our unity with it. In other words, ars applied as much to education, agriculture, and politics as to painting, music, and drama. Similarly, the six arts of classical Confucian thought included activities as diverse as ritual, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and arithmetic (Boisvert, 1998). Clearly, these broader conceptions of art are concerned less with a type of final product than they are with how an activity is performed and what it intends to achieve. Art Reconciled as Aesthetic Experience John Dewey sought to recover this older sense of the word art and to demonstrate that aesthetic experience was the glue that held together such diversity of

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activities. Furthermore, he proposed that aesthetic experience itself differs from other experiences not so much in kind, but in quality, and that it has commonalities to all experience the way mountain peaks do not float unsupported, . . . but are the earth in one of its manifest operations (Dewey, 1934/1989, p. 9) So Deweys agenda was in reality broader than merely reconciling the senses of art. It was aimed at connecting and elucidating all types of experience. In Deweys use of the concept, experience is not just the colloquial, what happens to us, but includes the interactivity inherent in any engagement with the world. It includes both an active and passive element peculiarly combined (Dewey, 1916, p.139). It consists of both trying and undergoing, and encompasses both us and things of the world responding to us. In this sense, experience is no longer internal, but a circuit of activity that includes internal states as well as actions and external repercussions. In experience, mind, body, and the world are not distinct things, even if we view them as separate in analysis. We feel, think, do, and are responded to in one indivisible movement. But experiences are not equal. Some experiences are rote, habitual, or engaged in only begrudgingly and without investment. Too much of this type of experience stymies growth by leaving us adverse to and comparatively incompetent in situations which require effort and perseverance (Dewey, 1938/1997, p.35). However, experiences in which we also engage in reflection about our feelings, thoughts, actions, and about the responses our actions receive, those in which the change made by action is reflected back into a change made in us, are learning experiences (Dewey, 1916, p.139). Instructional providers should strive for a learning experience that arouses curiosity, strengthens initiative, and sets up desires and purposes that are sufficiently intense to carry a person over the dead places. . . (Dewey, 1997/1938, p. 38). It was along the dimension of ability to stimulate growth and desire to learn that Dewey sought to distinguish types of experience, and it was aesthetic experience that he placed at the positive extreme along this dimension. Both narrow and broad senses of the word art are in common usage and can be easily understood. But the experience that underlies the achievement and appreciation of both kinds of art, aesthetic experience, is not, and so further definition is useful. One of the distinguishing characteristics of aesthetic experience is its integral nature, that it runs its course to fulfillment, . . . demarcated in the general stream of experience from other experiences (Dewey, 1934/1989, p. 42). Such internal unity leads to high levels of reflection and increased growth, and to a desire

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for similar experiences of unity. Dewey does not draw a hard distinction between achieving practical unity that allows an organism to survive in its environment (by finding food or building shelter from available materials), intellectual or philosophical unity (decoding the human genome, understanding our place in the world), and artistic unity (finding beauty in a landscape, hearing a symphony as an organic whole). Each of these pursuits allows us to be more responsive and effective human beings, and so aesthetic experience can emerge within each of them. It is the depth of engagement and achievement of consummation that marks it as aesthetic, not the undertaking involved. Aesthetic experience begins with a compelling reason to engagea felt need, tension, or puzzlement that requires struggle. It continues in an uninterrupted movement toward an end, a movement infused with anticipation of the final outcome. (While the movement may be interrupted in time, it is not interrupted in intent.) Along the way we take action, even if that action is only intent observation, and we care about the things and conditions that result from our action, especially their bearing on the anticipated end. Finally, the ending is a consummation (not merely a cessation) that connects all events in the experience into a continuous, purposeful movement (Dewey, 1934/1989). The entire movement of the aesthetic experience, from the initiating tension through its consummation, is focused on an end, but not to the detriment of enjoying the pursuit. Aesthetic experience is particularly reflective both in the strong conscious engagement throughout and in the end that recalls all that comes before it, and therefore particularly conducive to learning. Art in the broad sense results when individuals engage in their endeavors in such a way that they can be called aesthetictheir coherent work toward an end demonstrates skillful, attentive execution and significant unity of purpose. The appreciation of these endeavors through intent observation also allows appreciators to have an aesthetic experience, such as when sports fans cheer on a skillful athlete or when colleagues marvel at the intelligence and creativity of a talented practitioner. In contrast, art in the narrow sense results when people create products or experiences whose direct aim is to create aesthetic experience in those who will appreciate the work. Art broad and art narrow are not mutually exclusive. For example, teachers and instructional designers may demonstrate both. In fact, when education aims for significant growth by creating immersive and compelling learning experiences, it exemplifies the narrow sense of the word to a high degree, even if the aim of those

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experiences is developing the connoisseurship to appreciate art in the broader sense when evidenced in a particular discipline. Art as Inquiry Like art, inquiry can also have broad and narrow conceptions. Dewey (1938/1991) saw inquiry as a natural, pervasive human activity, even if it is most often thought of in its most formal manifestationsscientific research and logical analysis. Not coincidentally, in much the same way that he sought to reconcile the senses of art to include both fine arts and the art of everyday experience, Dewey also sought to reconcile formal inquiry with the informal types we perform in everyday life, which he called common sense inquiry. In both senses, inquiry is about responding to our environment in ways that either modify it or our relationship to it, both of which function to restore the reciprocal adaptation that is required for a fruitful life (p.66). Examples of modifying the environment through the process of inquiry range from building a shelter after determining the best site and materials available, to building and launching a geostationary satellite to enhance communications and environmental monitoring. These also include a modification of our relationship to the environment by offering a privileged position within it, but more obvious examples of a changed relationship range from increasing our knowledge or recognizing our feelings to forecasting the weather. Each of these can be seen as efforts to restore the reciprocal adaptation required to lead a productive life. In other words, they are about creating or restoring unity and stability between persons and the world they live in. Given this broad role of inquiry, we can see that the purposes of artfinding or creating unity in experienceclassify it as a form of common sense inquiry. Whether it is scientific inquiry, which often seeks to attain knowledge for its own sake, or common sense inquiry, which seeks knowledge for the sake of settlement of some issue of use or enjoyment (Dewey, 1938/1991, p. 66), an inquiry follows a common pattern. 1. Every inquiry is preceded by an indeterminate situationa felt need or doubt that calls for resolution. The indeterminate situation comes into

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2.

3.

4.

5.

existence from existential causes, and is not immediately imposed in the form of a problem ( p. 109). A problem statement or space is defined that initiates and narrows the inquiry. This happens only following intellectual engagement, and after the situation is taken, adjudged, to be problematic (p. 111). An indeterminate situation posed in the form of a problem is already half resolvedwhat will be an acceptable solution has been determined. Ideas (or hypotheses) are proposed that suggest possible solutions. Ideas narrow which data will be considered and how they might support a solution. Ideas are tested for fit as solutions. Data observed and considered may strengthen, weaken, or modify ideas. In reflective inquiry, the implication or meaning of the idea is checked for fit within the existing constellation of meanings and either accepted, discarded, or modified. When ideas can be fully accommodated and the indeterminate situation is resolved, the experience is unified and inquiry comes to an end.

The similarities between the pattern of inquiry and the pattern of aesthetic experience become apparent when we compare them phase by phase, as shown in Table 1. Table 3.1 Comparing Phases of Inquiry and Aesthetic Experience Inquiry Aesthetic Experience

Indeterminate situation, doubt Problem generation, narrowing of focus Proposition of ideas, consideration of data Testing ideas, checking ideas for fit to

Felt need, tension, puzzlement Anticipation of outcome Intent action or observation, concern for immediate qualities and things Consideration of how observations bear

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data on the anticipated end Accommodation of results that unifies the A consummation that unifies the inquiry experience

This nearly identical structure demonstrates that aesthetic experience is indeed a form of inquiry. As inquiry, aesthetic experience has the express purpose of increasing our unity with the world around us by understanding how we fit, or how we can better fit, in our physical or social environment. Because these outcomes are also the aims of education, inquiry learning approaches (including common sense inquiry) are important means, particularly when that inquiry achieves the level of aesthetic experience. Inquiry as Expression It is worth reiterating that inquiry, whether common sense or scientific, begins not with a problem but with a qualitative, indeterminate situation or felt need. In other words, inquiry arises from an affective state. Without an underlying desire to reconcile a doubt or need, inquiry is rote and is unlikely to procede. Similarly, when we dont concern ourselves with the antecedent conditions for learning inquiry, instructional situations are unlikely to possess the impulse toward consummation that will make them successful. Deweys concept of expression helps to further develop his notion of the qualitative origins of inquiry (Dewey, 1934/1989). For Dewey, expression is not merely an outflow of emotion; it is the act of committing oneself wholly in securing a change initiated by a driving internal desire or need. Expression begins with an impulsion, a movement of the organism in its entirety which is the initial stage of any complete experience (p. 64). When an internal desire or need cannot be met through self-sufficient means, one has to risk the turmoil in which external resources not fully under our control are required to achieve the desired outcome. These external resources might be tools, raw materials, information and data, or merely words. The turmoil of expression marks the place where inner impulse and contact with the environment, in fact or in idea, meet and create a ferment (p. 72).

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As Dewey expresses it, It takes the wine press as well as the grapes to express juice, and it takes environing and resisting objects as well as internal emotion and impulsion to constitute an expression of emotion (Dewey, 1934/1989, p. 70). Expression requires an element of struggle to be counted as expression, a struggle that arises from interaction with the environment as a medium. One can see that expression describes the underlying process of artistic creation, a depiction that necessarily includes mindful manipulation of materials and not merely emotional outpouring. One can also see that expression is an alternative way to describe the reflective experience we call inquirywhen it is performed effectively. However, the concept of expression more directly highlights the qualitative antecedent to inquiry, and reminds us that emotion is more effective than any deliberate challenging sentinel could be at carrying an inquiry to completion, by reaching out tentacles for that which is cognate (p. 73). Emotion powerfully selects only what is needed from available materials to satisfy the initiating impulsion, keeping the inquiry directed. In other words, expression is both affective and cognitive in scope, demonstrating a form of experience in which that dichotomy becomes meaningless. Expression cant be subdivided into an affective fuel and cognitive processes.. In expression, neither of these exists without the other. Additional Conditions for Aesthetic Learning Experiences In the preceding sections, I have shown that Deweys conceptions of art, experience, aesthetic experience, inquiry, and expression are interrelated in a number of ways that help reveal the connection between the affective and cognitive domains of learning. To summarize: Experience is an interaction between an individual and the world with the underlying goal of establishing unity or stability between the two. Inquiry is a type of experience that includes a high degree of conscious intent and reflection on the part of the individual, producing learning. Expression describes inquiry in such a way that its affective and cognitive bases are equally salient.

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Art has broad and narrow senses. In the broad sense of skillful performance, art denotes attempts at inquiry or expression worthy of appreciation. In the narrow sense of the fine arts, it denotes the creation of products that purposefully promote engagement through aesthetic experience, a highly integrated form of experience having a particularly high degree of internal reflection. Aesthetic experience can be had in virtually any human activity, even though it is most directly called out in engagement with the arts. It begins with a sense of tension or puzzlement, is infused with anticipation of an outcome, and ends in a consummation that unifies the experience. Art in the narrower sense is a type of inquiry that has aesthetic experience as its subject matter. In this sense, art is expression seeking to understand the nature of aesthetic experiences by modeling those experiences. For this reason, art can also provide guidance for stimulating aesthetic experience in activities outside the arts.

In everyday settings, learning results naturally from experiences involving inquiry and the reflection it requires. Driven by a need or desire, we attempt to change something about ourselves or our environment and learn from the results of that attempt, whether successful or not. At times natural learning experiences become aesthetic, exhibiting deep engagement and providing a high degree of satisfaction. In many cases, it is not only what weve learned that sticks with us, but also the experience itself. Memories of learning to ride a bike or drive a car, to build a house, or play the guitar can be among the most significant ones we possess. In contrast, in formal learning settings like schools and many professional training situations, lacking a driving need or desire to learn, learning experiences wont exhibit the same degree of engagement, agency, or ownership of outcome. In this section, I will look to the preceding concepts and several additional ideas drawn from Deweys educational philosophy to propose general guidelines necessary for formal learning to become aesthetic experience. When subject matter is composed only of facts, concepts, and principles specified by the curriculum, and when the desired outcome is simply the ability to demonstrate that these have been learned, the potential for aesthetic experience is

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very likely thwarted. What is particularly wrong with transmission approaches is that subject matter is treated as finished, rather than as an unfinished, ever-growing discipline to be joined and explored. As Dewey suggests, immaturity, or being in an unfinished state, designates a positive force or abilitythe power to grow (Dewey, 1916, p. 42) This statement applies as much to the discipline as to the learner. If it didnt, there would be no art in expert performance to strive toward or appreciate. Experts are those with the abilities to apply knowledge of the discipline in new ways, to new problems, and in the identification of new problems. It is demonstration of these abilities that we can appreciate as artful performance. Similarly, aesthetic learning experiences require opportunities for growth related to increased responsiveness and effectiveness, not simply acquisition of facts and concepts that may be useful only in some speculative future. In other words, they require inquiry or expression in any of the myriad forms that can take, including problem solving, design and composition, or disciplined inquiry. Contrary to some popular, extreme claims about inquiry learning (Schank, 2005), this doesnt mean that students should never be told facts and concepts, or that they should always be required to find them and determine their usefulness during solitary inquiry. Unguided discovery learning is not the only alternative to finished subject matter. A better alternative is active participation in a mutual teaching and learning activity in which the less consciousness there is, on either side, of either giving or receiving instruction, the better (Dewey, 1916, p. 160). Like experience in general, a learning experience is both trying and undergoing, and it is wrong to overreact to weaknesses in traditional teaching approaches by focusing excessively on trying to the detriment of providing good direction (Wong, in press). In the end it is the work of the instructor or instructional designer to provide sufficient direction to guide the learning experience toward a meaningful outcome. Similarly, an artist cant just come out and tell her audience how to feel or think about the artworks subject matter, but she has the responsibility to demonstrate that there is a guiding hand behind the aesthetic experience and that consummation is achievable. In both art and teaching, direction is not an imposition, it is a requirement. It includes both focusing and ordering, guiding attention toward useful resources and sequencing activities such that they build upon one another (Dewey, 1916, p. 25). Direction of this kind leads to increased freedom, not limitation, when administered in a way that also calls for learner expression.

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Direction includes sharing more than ideas and means to achieve success. Dewey challenges the common sense notion that we learn through imitation of anothers means. He sees this as putting the cart before the horse by ignoring that it is shared goals and desires that cause us imitate in the first place (Dewey, 1916, p.34). It as important for instructors to direct the goals and desires of learners as it is to demonstrate effective means. This is not to suggest that using persuasion or manipulating the emotions of students are ethical approaches. But sharing the goals and desires of the instructor and other practitioners in the discipline is important for communicating a critical aspect of the subject matterthe affective conditions that initiate inquiry within it. When these dont naturally exist for learners, it is important for instructors and instructional designers to find avenues for creating qualitative situations that can serve as impulsion to carry learners through an inquiry. This can be done by providing practitioner stories and by establishing authentic, but also dramatically settings for problems and issues. Dewey also offers single-mindedness, or unity of purpose, as one of the critical conditions for effective inquiry (Dewey, 1916, p. 176). Unity is nurtured by absorption or complete engagement with a subject matter. But engagement is reciprocally nurtured by the unity of activity within the learning experience. External motivation and coercion divide attention, but intrinsic interest and effort aroused by a meaningful reason for engagement and continually reinforced by activities that directly support the inquiry lead to unified experience. The end of the learning experience should directly result from the activity that preceded it, and should not interrupt the flow of an otherwise engaging learning inquiry. A traditional test can often steal from meaningful learning if it is not a natural extension of prior learning activities, but generative activities that consummate learning by demanding application make it more meaningful. An instructor or instructional designer can unify the experience at its close by making evident the interconnections between beginning, middle, and ending activities, and reminding learners of the purpose of the journey they have taken. However, creating aesthetic learning experiences is emphatically not about imposing an artificial order onto otherwise poorly connected events. It is about drawing out the natural order of an inquiry that arises directly from the subject matter of instruction. Conclusion

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It is heartening validation that research by those in the learning sciences, who also claim Dewey as a source of inspiration, reach many similar conclusions about the value and patterns of inquiry learning. For example, Krajcik & Blumenfeld (2006) describe the use of driving questions as a way of impelling students into projectbased science learning inquiries, and creating shared artifacts as a way of consummating the inquiry. However, in taking a purely scientific approach to understanding learning, the learning sciences ignore the shear joy of learning and pursuit of meaning that is immediately evident from the aesthetic standpoint. The stresses are different, even if there is no disagreement. While the Krajcik & Blumenfeld focus on how driving questions organize and drive activities of the project, they dont explore the reasons such questions elicit a desire to learn in students (p. 321). Their standpoint stresses the cognitive outcomes of offering a reason for learning, and it works backward from those outcomes to find questions with a reasonable amount of inherent intrigue. They express concern that it may be hard to find questions that students find meaningful and interesting by taking this backward approach, but fail to explore the potential of an approach in which affect and imagination are central in creating compelling learning experiences. In caring for the aesthetic potential of learning, new avenues for into the problem of instilling desire to learn open up. For example, because the connection between art and inquiry is more apparent, we are now justified in looking to the arts (in the narrow sense), where expression and aesthetic experience play obvious roles, as models for developing engaging instruction. We can also look to artful (in the broad sense) performance within a discipline to uncover its qualitative antecedents, and then use these as guides for initiating learning experiences. Attending to the qualities of a learning experience that allow it to become aesthetic means exposing the full set of meanings of an experience, including both its affective and cognitive qualities. One outcome of this attention is that it shows learners how to draw rich meanings out of future experiences as well. The value of art, and the reason it plays such a pervasive role in our lives, is that it values all the materials of experience that have potential to contribute meaning. It knows that the surfaces of things are worth attending to, but it also reaches down into both our thoughts and feelings about experiences to find beauty in the constellation of meanings that exist for any experience. When learning experiences have similar

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breadth, it no longer matters whether they are natural or formal situations, because the experience itself will be sufficiently complete to affect learners in memorable, if not transformative, ways.

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CHAPTER 4 A FRAMEWORK FOR UNDERSTANDING LEARNING EXPERIENCE Introduction Recent literature in a variety of design fields has called for a shift in focus from products and usability, and from effectiveness and efficiency, toward a focus on the characteristics of user-experience (McCarthy & Wright, 2004; Hassenzahl & Tractinsky, 2006). For example, instead of designers describing their function as simply making products that work and provide ease of use, the goals of design are expanded to include providing meaningful and enjoyable use. This desire to move beyond the purely utilitarian and technical aspects of designs comes from recognition that the potential power of a design intervention is not fully captured in a focus on meeting functional needs and avoiding usability problems. A better understanding of the complex interactions end-users have with designs might provide insight for stimulating not just effective, but powerful and compelling experiences that have deep impacts. This response is not purely altruistic; it follows from the increasing choices available to consumers and the resulting attention economy that leads users choose products and experiences that are inviting and engaging in addition to meeting functional needs (de Castell & Jenson, 2004). Facing similar challenges and seeking similar outcomes, instructional designers have a parallel interest in understanding learning experience and discovering ways to design instruction with experience in mind, frequently drawing from the sister design fields and from the arts for ideas about how to do so (Dickey, 2005; McLellan, 2002; Parrish, in press; Wilson, Parrish, & Veletsianos, in press). This increasing inclination to examine holistic experience, to take responsibility for more than functionality, is also reflected in a growing paradigm shift in the health professions, a reflection that offers additional guidance to instructional providers. The new emphases on patient wellness (not just a physical state, but a relationship of increased connectedness to ones body and the world) rather than merely curing illness, and on nursing care and presence (being there for

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all patient needs, including social, emotional, and spiritual ones) rather than just carrying out patient treatments, also demonstrate recognition of value in focusing on broader experience rather than technically effective interventions (Woodward, 2003). Considering the richer outcomes sought by a focus on wellness and presence, instructional design practice might find new perspectives for developing learning engagement and the open-mindedness that creates a healthy desire to learn. However, a framework for exploring and influencing learning experience still lacks definition. Even clearly stating what is meant by learning experience remains encumbered with difficult questions. What are the criteria that make a situation an experience? What dimensions of learning experience impact its qualities? What qualities make an experience compelling and foster engagement instead of leading to boredom? What kinds of experience foster continued growth versus a tendency to withdraw or turn inward? What do learners, instructors, and instructional designers bring to an experience that colors its nature? These questions are critical ones to explore if we want to impact learning experiences with instructional designs. This paper offers a framework for experience that can contribute toward a research agenda and a foundation for design approaches that might impact learning experiences in positive ways. The framework is consistent with pragmatist and phenomenological philosophical perspectives of experience, and is also informed by existing learning theory and research and reflections on the practice of instructional design. A Proposed Framework of Experience Experience is more than the collection of psychological states undergone by an individual in a given situation, and it is more than merely something that happens to a person. In other words, it is neither merely an individuals conscious response to a situation nor just the objective conditions that make up that situation. It is more useful to view it as the transaction or engagement that takes place between an individual and the world (Dewey, 1925/2000). Experience in this sense is an activity that includes a conscious individual engaging with a responsive worlda world that includes both objective conditions and other individuals. Both the individual and the world are active in the creating the ultimate nature of the experience. From this transactional point of view, the value of an experience can be described in terms of

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the quality of engagement that develops and its potential impacts on future experience (Dewey, 1938/1997). In turn, the qualities of the experience worth exploring are those that impact the nature of the transaction. Before examining several qualities of both situations and individuals that determine the value of an experience, it will be useful to look at the temporal dimensions of experience that determine the conditions of its exploration and outline a hierarchy of experiences in terms of their lasting value. Temporal Dimensions of Experience Experience has several temporal dimensions that must be explored to fully account for its nature and potential value. Each of these dimensions offers their individual challenges to researchers, but together they create significant complexity. They also provide limits to the control designers can assert. It is immediate. Experience is felt, not just observed or reflected upon. An individuals relationship to the situation at a given moment, before rational analysis and when affective influences hold at least equal sway to cognition, is a critical factor in the ultimate value attached to it. The qualities of immediate experience can color all other aspects of it, determining how deeply one engages and the meaning one attaches to it. Experience unfolds over time. Experience can be seen also in the accumulation of immediate experiences or, moreover, as an unfolding sequence of immediate experiences that move toward an outcome. Similar to the way a piece of music builds or a novel or film grows on you, an experience may lead to increasing complexity and a rewarding conclusion that depends upon the totality of unfolding events. Like immediate experience, this unfolding and its unfolded conclusion are also felt, and not just objects of cognition. Experience is composed or constructed. Some experiences stick with us and, upon reflection, develop qualities that might not have been noticed during the experience itself. Later experiences might color the prior experience in a way that recasts it. For example, an illness may have been quite unpleasant at the time, but reflection might focus on personal struggle successfully faced, social

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relationships strengthened, and changes in outlook and habits that resulted coloring the experience as ultimately positive and stimulating growth. Finally, experience is historically situated. The meaning ascribed to any given experience depends in part on the history of previous interactions. This is a significant factor for students encountering non-intuitive scientific principles, for the progression of family arguments, and for the experience of minority children or non-native speakers in educational environments. This notion of history is central to cultural-historical activity theory (CHAT), and applies to the learning experience as well (Cole, 1996).

Because experience develops in each of these temporal dimensions, research into learning experience will not provide a complete picture unless each is taken into consideration. Gathering data about experience in-the-moment, in-the-making, inreflection, and in-historical-context requires a variety of methodologies and consideration of potentially rapidly changing and perhaps contradictory evidence. Similarly, instructional designers who want to impact learning experience need a variety of tactics to influence each of these dimensions. Levels of Experience The effectiveness of an experience can be understood pragmatically in terms of the level of its potential impactthe degree of change it can stimulate in the near term or in the growth the might compound in the future experiences to which it leads. This potential is dependent upon the quality of the engagement that takes place, and can be demonstrated in each of the temporal dimensions described above. The list below does not describe levels in the sense of a strictly ordered continuum on a single variable; rather they describe varying qualities of experience common to everyone based upon numerous converging conditions and qualities. No experience. Given the definition of experience as transaction, not all of life qualifies as experience. If one is unconscious of things in the world or makes no attempt to influence them, learn from them, or enjoy them, no experience occurs and no value is had.

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Mindless routine. Experience can be characterized by the boredom that comes from forced or mindless routine. In this case, little investment is made by either the situation or the individual, or both, and very little transaction takes place. Growth is stymied, and the only lasting impact is likely an aversion to similar experiences in the future. Scattered/Incomplete Activity. At this level of experience, an investment of engagement is evident, but it is frustrated by interruptions, diversions, and roadblocks that leave it unfulfilled. Unfortunately, much of life can fall into this category. An individual can be quite busy and immersed in activity, but little comes of it in terms of growth. The experience remains unsatisfying and unmemorable. At the end of a day filled with such experience, one might ask, What did I accomplish today? and be unable to come up with an answer other than that it was filled with activity. Pleasant routine. At the level of pleasant routine, experience begins to have lasting value. The pleasantness of such routine, as opposed to mindless routine, suggests significant engagement and investment in the transaction, both by the individual and by the situation in response. However, the growth that results from this kind of experience is likely to be evident only in the long term, developing incrementally and slowly. Tending the garden is a prime example and metaphor for this kind of experiencethe routine task is not necessarily significant on its own, but an awareness of what it leads to colors the task as pleasant and meaningful. Challenging endeavors. Whether one succeeds or fails, challenging endeavors lead to significant growth and new knowledge about ones place in the world. Challenge suggests substantial engagement in the transaction of experience, again, not just on the part of the individual attempting to meet the challenge, but also inherently on the part of the world imposing the challenge. The most significant challenges come about from sustained effort, not instantaneous reward for confronting a difficult situation. Therefore, its nature is often revealed more fully in-the-making and in-reflection of experience, even though immersion in the moment is also a critical characteristic. Aesthetic experience. When an experience stands out from the general flow of experience, when one can point to it as exhibiting heightened meaning throughout in its immediacy, its unfolding, and in reflection, experience

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reaches its highest level and qualifies as aesthetic (Dewey, 1934/1989). Aesthetic, in this sense, derives from recognition that works of art, as refined experiences, are a celebration of our ability to derive meaning from life, and not separate in kind from everyday experiences (Berleant, 1991). Aesthetic experience is characterized by meeting an indeterminate situation with anticipation and active engagement, and following through toward a unifying consummation. Aesthetic experience can be powerful and life-changing, and at minimum intensely enjoyable and memorable. As the levels of experience proceed from mindless to pleasant routine through challenge to aesthetic experience, increased engagement is assumed. Engagement may be the best indicator of the level of potential outcomes of an experience. In fact, from the perspective learning experience, engagement might be considered the medium of learning. The quality of engagement that develops in an experience is influenced by both situational and individual qualities, some of the most significant of which are discussed in the following sections. Situational Qualities Influencing Experience The situation in which an experience takes place includes many influential objective conditions, such as the physical, social, and cultural qualities that afford or constrain engagement. The list below provides an examination of a very general set of qualities that describe these conditions. Each of these qualities can be either influenced or met by designers through the features they choose to include in their designs. Immediacy. Experience has an immediate temporal dimension, and therefore a key quality of situations is how well they absorb individuals in this dimension by offering substantive immediately felt qualities. In fact, the degree to which an experience becomes immediate, in the sense of un-mediated or unencumbered by intervening interpretation or representation, can be an important indicator of its ultimate power (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). Experience, from the viewpoint of the individual, comes in waves of perceptions, thoughts, and feelings that arise from active engagement with a

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situation. To submit to these waves, even when they appear without apparent organization, is to appreciate the immediacy of an experience. In contrast, merely considering a situation in the abstract or passively observing it without immersion will lead to lesser impact. Designers achieve immediacy by attending to the emotional and sensual qualities of a situation or product, and when the forms and textures of experience they offer are consistent with an unfolding meaning. Malleability. As transaction, effective experience requires give and take, both doing and undergoing on the part of the individual involved. Experience and what we gain from it relies heavily upon what we bring to it, what we contribute to its unfolding, and how we think about it upon reflection. In turn, situations that provide for effective experience will be malleable, or open to the contributions of the individuals engaged with it. Situations conducive to powerful experiences leave room for individualized engagementthe individual will develop ownership of events rather than feel they are happenstance. Malleability is also the quality that allows experience to be composed over time from the raw materials provided by immediate experience. Resonance. Experiences show varying degrees of persistence, but they never just end when the situation is ended. We carry experiences within us and continue to reflect upon their meaning, sometimes long after, allowing meaning the chance to develop contours and depth. The richest experiences resonate with other aspects of our lives, changing the timbre of the other situations we encounter with the knowledge weve gained and new points of view weve adopted. If their resonance is sufficiently strong they may continue to impact our lives indefinitely. Some situations lack the qualities ripe for persistence. They are perhaps too scattered and incomplete or too closed in and too pat in what they have to tell us, and so the experience fades quickly. Situations gain persistence by connecting to our current lives and by leaving a residue of ideas and attitudes that can attach to the future situations we touch. Resonant situations leave us energized to ponder them further and to look for future connections. Coherence. Much of experience is disjointed and seems to move from event to event without connection or meaning. More rewarding experiences feel

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unified and coherentthey hang together. The quality of coherence is equivalent to saying that something is meaningfuleither it connects to our lives and intentions and to previous experience, or it reveals a high degree of internal unity and can be appreciated on its own terms. As it is with good works of art, those experiences that reveal significant coherence of intent in the midst of threatening chaos or achieve successful unification of widely disparate elements are often those that are felt as the most rewarding. Experiences richen when one has to struggle toward a consummation (Dewey, 1934/1989). High degrees of immediacy, malleability, resonance, and coherence are all qualities that instructional providers can aspire to in the learning situations they create. Attention to the textures of experience, providing opportunities for learners to mold a situation, giving a learning experience resonance by showing connections and pointing to future experience, and creating learning activities that move in concert toward a consummation of growth in the learnereach of these are critical in allowing a powerful learning experience to develop. Qualities of Individuals Influencing Experience What an individual brings to a situation influences the experience as readily as its situational qualities. To a large degree, each individual creates a unique experience with herself at the center, and all of the individuals involved in a situation effect the qualities of the experience for each other as well. In a learning experience, instructional providers are primarily concerned about the experience created by and for the learner, but they must also remember their own role in shaping that experience, beyond influencing the situational qualities described above. Like the learner, they bring personal qualities to the experience that impact its effectiveness. Some of the more important individual qualities are described below. Intent. Each person has a particular orientation to the world, indicated by the goals and interests (intentions in common parlance) carried into a situation, but intention goes beyond this notion of having an express purpose. Intentionality also suggests the inherent world-directedness of our

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consciousness (Stewart & Mickunas, 1990), a fundamental relationship with the world that includes our attitudes, values, hopes, beliefs, likes, and dislikes, as well as assumptions about ones place within the world (Husserl,1982/1999). Clearly, the concept of intentionality covers a lot of ground which psychology typically tries to sort out (Anderman & Wolters, 2006). Ones intent has an important impact on the experience that develops from engagement in a situation, and the intentions of other individuals involved (such as instructors and IDs) will also have an impact. When a person exercises conscious intent, an experience has a higher chance to develop to its full potential. Presence. Ones ability to have an experience and the resulting level of that experience depend upon the degree of presence one brings to it. Presence begins with being-there, which includes not only physical and mental presence, including sufficient proximity to the content of a situation for understanding to occur. But presence also includes the important quality of being-with, a willing relationship to engage with the other individuals in an experience at multiple levels. Being-with includes a willing vulnerability that supports others, the practice of empathy rather than focusing entirely on ones own intentions. With an empathetic stance, one encourages open exchange of thoughts and feelings. Presence also includes being-ones-self, an attitude of authenticity and genuine expression of ones own thoughts and feelings. Being-ones-self is important both for the sake of connecting with others and for allowing one to have a genuine and deep relationship to the situation in general (Heidegger, 1962). Openness. Ones ability to learn from an experience is directly related to ones openness, or plasticity (Dewey, 1916). Plasticity does not mean entering a situation like a ball of wax passively giving in to any external force, but having a conscious willingness to submit to being changed while maintaining personal integrity. In fact, the ability to change in productive ways requires such integrity. Dewey also describes openness in terms of a dependency that denotes a power rather than a weakness, because it involves the creation of interdependency and increased social capacity (p. 44). Openness is an essential state for developing engagement within a situation.

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Trust. Trust encompasses several essential qualities of the individual in an experience. It suggests a degree of faith that positive outcomes can immerge from a situationa willingness to suspend disbelief, demonstrate patience, and extend ones presence without immediate reward. It also describes having anticipation, a mental and emotional attachment to the situation that looks ahead to outcomes based on given conditions or indeterminate qualities that need resolution. Finally, trust always contains an element of forgiveness that the experience and the other individuals involved will always, of necessity, have everyday qualities and fail to meet all our needs and expectations (Wilson, 1999). The majority of experience cannot live up to the expectations created by our imaginations, which are fueled by our personal intentions and desires for a transcendent meaning.

In keeping with the transactional nature of experience, one can see both parallel and complementary relationships between the individual qualities in an experience and the qualities of the situation. For example, individual intent can be seen as parallel to the resonance of the situationthey are qualities that reach outside the experience. The complement of intentthe situational quality that allows it to be exercisedis the malleability of the situation. An additional parallel relationship is individual presence and situational immediacy (how a situation exudes its presence), and both individual openness and trust have a parallel in situational malleability (a trust that control is not required). Additional complementary relationships include individual presence and that situational malleability that can include it, individual openness to a situational resonance, and individual trust (with its expectation for meaning) that situational coherence will become evident. Figure 4.1 depicts the relationships between situational and individual qualities of an experience and the levels of experience. Increasing levels in each of the qualities will in turn lead to a higher level of experience. Experience exhibits peaks and valleys through time depending on the convergence of these qualities. The relationship between intent and experience has additional complexitiesintentions must also match to a sufficient degree what the situation has to offer.

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Figure 4.1: Qualities and Levels of Experience The characteristics of situations and individuals impacting experience are of course more numerous than those listed above. For example, each experience also has a particular content or set of contents that are most salient. In complement, individuals within the experience will come with a particular level of knowledge and prior experience that influence the level of experience. This relationship is one instructional providers understand quite well. It is not depicted in Figure 4.1 because malleability and resonance assume a degree of accommodation to prior knowledge and experience, and intent captures the result of these entry conditions of the learner. Conclusions

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The framework provided here reveals experience as multi-dimensional, impacted by multiple qualities, and systemic in nature. This of course places high demands on anyone attempting to research the learning experience that results in any given instructional situation. Developing a clear picture of learning experience calls for a variety of research methodologies, including phenomenological and ethnographic techniques. Because experience itself always has narrative qualities, narrative approaches to research (Polkinghorne, 1988) will be useful for capturing a rich description of the qualities a learner brings to bear in response to the qualities of learning situations, and how these meet in the unfolding story of the experience. Mixed methods approaches (Onwuegbuzie & Leech, 2004) are also appropriate because the examination of quantifiable outcomes of learning is seen as critical by many stakeholders in educational contexts. For example, learner ratings of their engagement levels might provide quantifiability to observed level of experience (Parrish, 2008b), and observation protocols borrowed from research in technology usage might provide an additional objective measure of experience (Axelrod & Hone, 2006). Activity theory is an existing framework that can describe the transactional nature of a learning experience (Cole, 1996; Jonassen & Roher-Murphy, 1999; Lemke, 1997), and so may seem to offer a sufficiently strong starting point for research. However, activity theory, while it accounts for the individual goals and intentions of the actors within activity systems, sees them as disembodied and disconnected from consciousness. Also, activity theory does not concern itself with level of experience as a critical component in an activity system. The framework provided here deepens activity theorys materialist, outside looking in account of learning by adding an inside looking out perspective. Learning experience as a central concern for instructional providers is an innovation in several ways. Close attention to and valuing of learning experience leads a crafting attitude rather than adherence to predefined standards and rules, including additional care and responsiveness in implementation. Consideration of all four temporal dimensions and the variety of situational qualities offered here suggest that multiple approaches to content presentation, learning activity design, and context and relationship building are critical. The framework of experience provided here calls for an increased accounting of the qualities learners bring to an instructional situation and strategies for encouraging higher positive levels of these qualities.

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Finally, the framework might remind instructional providers of their own roles as individuals contributing to learning experiences, and ask them to consider their own intentions, levels of presence, openness, and trust. Instruction and learning become as much about relating and connecting as about knowledge-demonstrating. Aesthetic experience, the level of experience that offers the potential for the deepest and most lasting impacts, is not an inexplicable occurrence. It is merely a powerful convergence of high levels of each of the qualities of experience discussed above. Aesthetic experience is worth striving for in instructional situations because it can spill over into other parts of learners lives by offering an empowering anticipation of the potential to be found in any new experience (Dewey, 1916). It can instill a desire for the rewards of attending to the immediacy, engaging the malleability, and finding the resonance and coherence in experience. It can also inspire learners toward higher levels of presence, openness, and trust, and stimulate healthy intent. On the other hand, repeated experiences that dont allow these qualities to manifest themselves may cause learners to shut down to the potential of experience and growth.

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CHAPTER 5 INVESTIGATING THE AESTHETIC DECISIONS OF EDUCATORS AND INSTRUCTIONAL DESIGNERS A math instructor at an urban community college holds frequent sing-alongs of popular songs in her courses, with the lyrics, humorous in their incongruity, rewritten to explain complex math concepts and procedures. An instructional designer, charged with teaching science and safety related to hurricanes, asks learners engaged with a Web-based learning module to assume the role of the houseguest of a family threatened by an approaching tropical storm. An instructor of Masters degree students in instructional technology ends her course with a reflection designed to help students tie the various activities of the course together, using language that suggests that completing the course is a rite-of-passage, and that the students are now qualitatively different people. A training organization with primarily corporate clients regularly designs Web-based training packages that include a pervasive back story, a narrative that describes how a fictitious group of people work through common problems by applying the skills being taught in the training packages. Another instructional designer trains weather forecasters by engaging them in realistic forecast problems, offering lessons on meteorological concepts while the learners take on the role of a weather forecaster making their way through a sequence of forecast decisions during a puzzling weather event. The education or training professionals described above have several things in common. For all, the primary purpose of their work is making sure learners take away useful knowledge and skills. Yet they also realize that the only way to ensure that learning will happen is if learners are fully engaged. As compared to many of their colleagues, they focus on the creation of learning experiences, not simply on conveying content. Their approaches can be considered aesthetic to the degree that they place increased emphasis on the qualitative immediacy of experience, on its unity and wholeness, on its emotional underpinnings, on the temporal unfolding of events (Jackson, 1998, p. 181), and put great care in developing details of their instruction that may seem to be, on the surface, only peripherally related to its subject matter, and only minimally implied by instructional method or strategy.

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In my first years as an instructional designer at a large community college, I was struck by the lack of interest in my discipline showed many faculty members. As a young instructional designer (ID) fresh out of graduate school and new to an educational context, I was unaware that instructional design, coming from a tradition of applying scientific and engineering principles to instruction, would be seen as conflicting with the traditional craft-orientation of education (Rose, 2002). I could not understand a lack of interest in systematic approaches to instruction rejection of cognitive psychology as the best basis instructional decisions. In explaining their perspective, more than one faculty member told me, Instruction is not science, its an art. At the time, this comment seemed unsophisticated. It indicated to me that they hadnt enlightened by advances in cognitive psychology and their applications to learning and instruction. Otherwise, surely they would be as excited as I was about the potential of instructional design to improve educational practice. However, the comment stuck with me over the years as I continued to ponder its possible meanings. Back then, I felt that calling teaching an art was a misuse of the term, that it simply demonstrated that many instructors did not completely understand why they did what they did and what made certain instructional decisions more effective than others. In other words, using the word art was only a way of indicating that tacit knowledge was an important contributor to their work. I suspected that if they investigated more deeply they could discern the scientific basis of principles underlying their practice, principles that would explain why some strategies work and others not. Over my 20 years of practice as an ID, my opinion has changed. I have observed that in my own work and that of colleagues there exists an artistic thrust that guides the design of products considered of high quality by clients and learners. At the same time, in recent years my understanding of art has grown deeper and my conception of it has grown broader. I now believe that the same qualities that make art beautiful and meaningful underlie all our attempts to have meaningful lives, including our learning efforts. This study is an attempt to better understand the relationship between art and instruction by looking at the ways in which aesthetics underlie the designs of teachers and instructional designers. My purpose in performing this research is not to deny the value of science for instruction, but to reconsider aesthetics as a core foundation for instructional practice, alongside science. In fact, my research uses social scientific approaches in its attempts to uncover the underlying aesthetics of ID practice.

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Aesthetic Experience Ostensibly, aesthetics describes our experience of and passion for creating art, but John Dewey (1934/1989) saw it as applying more broadly. In developing a pragmatist theory of aesthetics, Dewey considered it a prevalent and essential kind of experience, one that is particularly heightened and felt to be especially meaningful. In this sense, aesthetic experience can exist not only in our engagement with the arts, but in all activity. But the concept of aesthetics has had many interpretations, and Deweys is by no means representative. Aesthetics is used in at least two senses, both of which are applicable to this study. In one sense, aesthetics describes the strategies or principles employed by artists in creating their work. Works like Aristotles Poetics (trans. 1984) primarily explore this aspect. But aesthetics is also the name for the philosophical tradition that explores the impact of the arts on our lives, why we call some things art and not others, the relationship of artists to their work, and why humans have a passion for creating and engaging with works of art. This tradition, especially in recent history, has produced many different interpretations. Some have said that art is our way of making certain things in our world special or distinct from everyday experiencean attempt to celebrate our humanity or to attach increased human meaning to things (Dissanayake, 1995). Connor (1999) points to another school of thought suggests that the function of art is to create a useful distraction for the miseries we encounter, or to provide a cathartic mechanism for working out issues and anxieties which for often obscure reasons cannot be addressed directly (Functionalist theories of the aesthetic, para. 3). Others have claimed that art is merely a classification of artifacts defined by social institutions as suitable for appreciation (Dickie, 1989). In other words, aesthetics may not exist except in the sense of socially created convention. This point of view can be seen as an attempt to explain the emergence of some relatively bizarre examples of modernist and postmodernist art. But Berleant (1991) takes perhaps a less timid tack and posits engagement as the common quality that connects all the artifacts we call art, a quality that puts his theory most in line with that of Dewey, as I show below. Finally, in his essay, What If There Were No Such Thing As The Aesthetic, Connor (1999) concludes that the concept of aesthetics may be of no use given its protean and unpredictable essence, (The fallacy of counter-aesthetics, para. 6). However, my

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stance in this project is that this protean essence lends further credence to Deweys conception of aesthetics as a pervasive facet of experience. Dewey (1934/1989) proposed that aesthetic experience grows out of the rhythmic alternation of disruption and order, struggles and achievements (p. 19), in our lives. In other words, art emerges from the rhythms of everyday experience and epitomizes our nature as intentional beings establishing and achieving goals. As Dewey put it: Life consists of phases in which the organism falls out of step with the march of surrounding things and then recovers unison with iteither through effort or by some happy chance. And, in a growing life, the recovery is never mere return to a prior state, for it is enriched by the state of disparity and resistance through which it has successfully passed. . . . Here in germ are balance and harmony attained through rhythm. (p. 14) With little effort one can see that Dewey was describing a process of learning as the source of aesthetic experience. The fine arts are refined and intensified forms of experience (p. 3), but they are not unique in their aesthetic qualities. Aesthetic qualities contribute to our engagement with all the objects and events of life, as well as our judgments of meaning within our experience. . . . Experience is heightened vitality. Instead of signifying being shut up within ones own private feelings and sensations, it signifies active and alert commerce with the world; at its height it signifies complete interpenetration of self and the world of objects and events. Instead of signifying surrender to caprice and disorder, it affords our sole demonstration of a stability that is not stagnation but is rhythmic and developing. Because experience is the fulfillment of an organism in its struggles and achievements in a world of things, it is art in germ. Even in its rudimentary forms, it contains the promise of that delightful perception which is aesthetic experience. (p. 19) The rhythm and tension described by Dewey as sources of aesthetic experience are also significant characteristics of learning experiences. For this reason, artistic forms can provide useful analogies for instructional strategies.

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Necessary to the aesthetic experience of art is the contribution we ourselves make, a contribution that is active and participatory (Berleant, 1991, p. 4). Dewey suggests that in order to understand art, . . . one must begin in the raw; in the events and scenes that hold the attentive eye and ear of man, arousing his interest and affording him enjoyment as he looks and listens. . . . The sources of art in human experience will be learned by him who sees how the tense grace of the ball-player infects the onlooking crowd; who notes the delight of the housewife in tending to her plants . . .; the zest of the spectator in poking the wood burning on the hearth and in watching the darting flames and crumbling coals. (1934, p. 4-5) From these examples you can see that for Dewey, active engagement is a necessary quality of aesthetic experience. Rather than an aesthetics of passivity or disinterestedness, in which objects are regarded specifically for their distinctiveness from life, Dewey and Berleant propose an aesthetics of engagement. Engagement, in a pragmatist sense, can be defined as intellectual, emotional, or physical investment in an activity in anticipation of future consequences. Each of these is represented in Deweys examples, and also in the processes of learning. Engagement in learning is obviously intellectual, but emotions are equally instrumental in driving thought and belief (Martin & Reigeluth, 1999; O'Regan, 2003). Physical engagement is obvious as well: students travel to and sit in classrooms or at computers, make notes, navigate Websites, write papers, and engage in discussion or other learning activities. Just as artworks can be designed to draw in readers or viewers to puzzle out a plot or to sympathize with characters, to walk through buildings or around a sculpture, or to have a vicarious somatic experience in watching a dance, learning experiences may be designed aesthetically to stimulate each of these forms of engagement. According to Dewey (1934/1989), aesthetic experience has qualities of immediacy and anticipation of consummation. As Dewey puts it, consummation is not just an ending, It is anticipated throughout and is recurrently savored with special intensity (p. 55). In a consummation it becomes apparent that all the varied parts are linked to one another, and do not merely succeed one another (p. 55), it is an experience of unity or coherence. In cognitive terms, consummation is the integration of knowledge. But consummation doesnt happen if the immediacy of the experience is not attended to as well. Dewey claims that what is not immediate is not esthetic (p. 119), meaning that aesthetic experience is not achieved only in reflection, it arises from a situation in which the particulars stand out as compelling in themselves.

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Instructors and IDs risk creating unengaging instruction if they focus too closely on methods or models drawn from theory without also attending to the immediacy of the learning experience. Rather than using instructional models algorithmically, they might attend also to the quality of individual learner interactions, to the details of attractive and intuitive interface design, to the use of clear, but evocative words and illustrations, and to the pacing of instructional activities. Finding a connection between instruction and art is not new. But simply calling teaching an art and stopping there does not suggest anything to improve practice. Several authors have theorized about the artistic nature of teaching, drawing strong parallels between the similar activities of teaching and performing or creating works of art (Eisner, 1998; Sarason, 1999). Davies (1991) saw similar parallels between art and instructional design. For example, teachers and IDs can sometimes be so skillful and graceful in crafting a learning experience that it can be appreciated as aesthetic. Teaching and creating instructional materials is also, like art, often a spontaneous, improvisational activity, and not dominated by prescription. Indeed, the ends of instruction are not predetermined, but emergent. Wang (2001) more directly proposed that teachers should emphasize the aesthetic aspects of learning experiences, particularly in bringing out the unexpected, uncertain, or ambiguous aspects of their content areas to engage students. Jackson (1998), in his explication of Deweys concept of aesthetic experience, also speculated on the qualities of aesthetic instruction. Expanding on Jacksons work, Wong, Pugh, & The Dewey Ideas Group (2001), have applied Deweyan concepts to call for generating significant anticipation for learners within inquiry science experiences through the use of compelling ideas and stories. However, none of these appears to have investigated instructional practice to learn the extent to which teachers and IDs already think like artists in making instructional decisions or produce products that demonstrate principles similar to those demonstrated in works of art. An exception is Jennings (1998), who interviewed designers of multimedia-based instruction and educational games to discover the underlying aesthetics of instructional multimedia for engaging learners including methods for developing unity, focused attention, active discovery, affect, and intrinsic gratification. Similarly, but more broadly, the research described here is an exploration into aesthetic decisions made by teachers and IDs as they create instructional products and engage in teaching. Its goal is to contribute to an aesthetic

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theory of instruction that draws similarities and distinctions between the practice of artists and educators. Much emphasis goes into describing psychological learning principles to be applied by educators. Instructional theories and models typically prescribe strategies for effective instruction based on the results of scientific psychological research (Bransford, Brown, Cocking, Donovan, & Pellegrino, 2000; Reigeluth, 1999). But in the end, these are simply scaffolding for actual instructional activities, and the educator and ID must use more than these to mold the instructional content into a form that will engage an audience of learners. Theories and models rarely touch upon the immediacy of instructional events. This study looked beyond theories and models to examine how teachers and IDs in diverse settings applied strategies to enhance learner engagement and influence attitudes toward instructional content. It examined the design and implementation decisions used by participants in their work on a specific course or instructional product, such as the visual and other sensory qualities of the classroom and learning materials; the use of narrative structures in learning activities; the creation of tension, anticipation, and dramatic impact; the pacing of activities; the pattern of activities; and methods of creating closure. In addition, in order to discern relationships between their underlying values and these decisions, it sought to understand some of their guiding values for instruction, what they considered general goals for instruction, and how they characterized learners and their relationship to them in the teaching/learning process. Procedures Data Collection This study applied grounded theory research methodologies (Strauss & Corbin, 1998) to examine possible aesthetic bases for decisions made by teachers and IDs. In keeping with this methodology, I performed a series of interviews to identify educational applications of aesthetic principles. To develop the set of initial codes leading to this report, five participants were chosen based on purposive (Krathwohl, 1998) and theoretical (Creswell, 1998) sampling methods, in which I identified subjects likely to demonstrate use of aesthetic devices in their practice. I sought participants that demonstrate great care in the quality of their presentations, care deeply about learning experience, and could articulate insights into their practice.

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To better dimensionalize the data (Strauss & Corbin, 1998, p. 116-121), participants were purposefully chosen to represent varied arenas of practice, including both teachers and instructional designers. This range of participants was necessary to ensure a broad focus on learning, rather than narrowing in one delivery mode. The products studied were all large components of instruction, either entire courses or modules of two or more hours of student contact time. I adhered to this criterion to capture how these practitioners perceived an evolution of learning engagement during the experience. Participants included AF, a member of the math faculty at an urban community college; BI, an instructional designer working within a for-profit organization that creates custom and off-the-shelf training for corporate clients; CI and DI, both instructional designers with a not-for-profit organization with government sponsors, specializing in weather-related education and training. (however, the two had divergent audiences middle-school students and professional weather forecasters, respectivelyfor their projects); and, EF, an adjunct faculty member (also a practicing instructional designer) for a Masters degree program in Instructional Technology.

Each participant had recently taught the course or developed the instructional product they discussed, so the decisions and experience of the teaching or development process were fresh in mind. The course materials or products were available to examine as a second data source. (Participants CI and DI were colleagues of the researcher, working within the same organization.) I first examined the instructional materials (course syllabus, class handouts and/or descriptions of assignments, Websites), made notes on my initial thoughts about the instructional strategies and tactics employed, and then interviewed each participant to discuss the decisions they had made in designing the course or product. Two interviews were conducted with each participant, totaling from one and one-half to two and one-half hours. Interviews were partially structured with a set of prepared questions (see Appendix A) paraphrased for each subject in roughly the same order. While participants were briefed ahead of time with the general purpose of my research (see Appendix B), with the exception of the final question the interview questions did not directly ask participants to consider the concepts of art or aesthetics, which could have conjured limiting conceptions. Instead, they were designed to

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prompt participants to think about how learners might experience the instruction, repeatedly asking what learners were thinking and feeling during the course of instruction and what they were doing as designers of the experience to influence those thoughts and feelings. I considered myself an active participant in the interview process (Holstein & Gubrium, 1995), and at times the interview took on characteristics of a discussion between two practitioners. As much as possible, I chose to keep the interview focused on the decisions for the specific product and course to better ground the interview responses in thoughts during actual situations, rather than asking for general reflections about practice. The study followed a method similar to that of phenomenological researcher Aanstoos (1985), who used think-aloud protocol to uncover actual thinking processes of chess players, rather than those predicted by cognitive theory. While think-aloud protocol is typically impractical for processes with a long time-scale, such as instructional design and teaching, focused reflection on a specific course or product (with the product at hand, when possible) achieved a similar outcome. Data Analysis Following recommendations for grounded theory research (Strauss & Corbin, 1998) transcriptions for each interview were initially open-coded at a high degree of detail, the unit of analysis varying from phrases to entire paragraphs, depending on the concept expressed. Verification of the initial data and analysis was performed by sharing impressions from the first interviews with three of the participants and finding they were accepting of them. Further verification was made by sharing drafts of this report for member-checking as analysis and writing continued. After open-coding for the first set of interviews, codes and data were analyzed once again to discover more general themes and relationships in a process of axial coding (Strauss & Corbin, 1998), collapsing the initial codes to a set of 50. These codes collapsed further with additional passes and as new data from second interviews with three participants were analyzed (at the same time that a few new codes were added). As expected, as the analysis proceeded fewer instances of new concepts arose.

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Findings Differences between participants were apparent as anticipated given their varying professional orientations and places of practice. For example, the teachers could rely on being able to read student feelings, and could accommodate and adjust prior design decisicions to changing student perceptions. They worked toward an engagement substantially built on a high degree of trust, using language that says Im here, I care about you (Participant EF) and making students realize that its not me against them . . . that Im on their side (AF). In contrast, the instructional designers of self-paced products realized that even with their efforts to anticipate reactions to the instruction, they might still be missing the mark with a large percentage of learners. It appeared deeply frustrating to them that they would likely never see the faces of learners to know the instructions impact: (Participant BI) My problem is that I dont know any learners. Im so far away from them. I wish I could watch them, I wish I could interview them, but I dont know any of them. The only one I know is myself, and the only learning style I know is my own. Even with this substantial difference between teachers and IDs, very similar concerns for the aesthetic experience of learners emerged from the interviews and similar design solutions were described. These are described below, organized into general themes. Guiding Values When asked about guiding values for their work, participants spoke of a need to connect with the individual needs of learners, to keep them engaged and interested, and, by doing so, to help them develop useful skills and knowledge to take away from the experience. (CI) Learning is not easy. It takes work. . . . So I feel like Ive got to get the learners to put in effort or theyre not going to get anything for their time. . . Were in an information overload society . . . and every moment youre choosing. . . . If we make something, we better make it good, . . . valuable, well crafted, self-contained, and engaging and appealing.

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(AF) Everybody learns differently. . . . My job is to present the material in all sorts of different ways so those thirty people sitting there arent going to change their style to match me. (BI) I think the instructional designer is sort of the advocate for the learner. . . . Were kind of the conduit or intermediary between the knowledge and the learner. Goals for Instruction For participants, the goals of instruction are more than information transfer and skill development. Goals also include developing a deeper respect of the content area, an appreciation for its importance and value, and even its elegance. This additional appreciation requires modeling the behaviors of others who value the content and apply it with success. (BI) The other thing we try to do is . . . create a back story, a dramatic back story . . . about a group of people working through the process. . . . It needed to be a real story. Something that made sense. . . . Its all about modeling. (AF) Thats one of the things I try to portray to students, that I do enjoy teaching it, and love the math and its exciting, and Im trying to get them to feel that excitement with me. Well talk about something thats happening and Ill say, Isnt that cool? Isnt that neat the way it works? . . . It doesnt always work, but I try to pull them in. Student qualities The qualities of typical students that necessitate engagement strategies include the fact that they are frequently multi-tasking adults with competing demands in their lives. Education (or professional development) is only one of these. Students may come to the instruction with few experiences of academic success, and see instruction as intimidating rather than inviting. They may come with a limited desire for what the course has to offer, perhaps because it is required rather than chosen. (DI) The other stuff I cant have any influence over. So as engaging and attractive as that [computer] interface isits whats going to key them in initially and create that relationship. . . . A lot of the thinking behind this is based on visits I had to the office [of representative learners],

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watching people at work, and [seeing] how tight their schedules are and how much multi-tasking there is. (BI) You know, we see all the stats about how people dont make it [through self-paced instruction]. When Im thinking about the person, Im just trying to capture their interest for whatever moment I have them. Opening Qualities (Hooks, Novelty, Comfort) As DI demonstrates above, the opening of the instructional event is considered critical by each of the participants. It is the opportunity to create a lasting impression and set the tone of the relationship with the learner. It needs to have some kind of hook that draws learners in and encourages them to stay engaged. (BI) Were always looking for a hook, [an] emotional, intellectual, dramatic hook to get the learner into whats going on. (EF) Its real important to me that theres a conversational tone that says Im here, I care about you. I want us to learn from each other. I think about that heavily. Students new to online learning are nervous about it. Im trying to make it more comfortable. (AF) Im hoping that theyre sitting there and thinking, This isnt as scary as I thought. And interested enough to think, I better come back tomorrow because who knows what shes going to do next. Narrative Qualities All the participants discussed using narrative elements to create a flow to the instruction and to keep learners engaged through the end. This took many forms, from simply referring to the course as an adventure (AF) or facilitating a series of activities that complete a process of building things, (EF) to actually centering the instruction on a case, scenario, or back story (BI, CI, DI) that learners work through. (AF) I always try to talk about it with the excitement of, Its a journey and this is where were going to be going, and were going to be discovering these things. (DI) By the time they get to question six, theyre really caught up. The event is taking place now, theres [an] ocean-effect [snowstorm]. There are some quirks about how the atmosphere is setting up, theres some banding thats not really explained well. So hopefully theyre engaged

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enough to want to continue . . . that the idiosyncrasies of the case itself will continue to hold their attention throughout all nine questions. Identification Participants recognized that learning includes a process of shifting identity and asked learners to assume a new identity within the instruction. In some cases, this was a request to suspend disbelief and take part in a narrative, to have learners identify with a fictional person with an immediate need of the knowledge they themselves are attempting to develop. In others, it was a more direct request to envision their own potential new identity. In both cases, the request can be seen as an attempt to make learners identities more malleable, preparing them for the shift that is one goal of the instruction. For example, in EFs online course about instructional strategies, not only do students apply what theyre learning in designing a product of their choosing (often they are practicing professionals or interns, and the product is for a real audience), but they are told that the course instructors have followed the same process in designing the course the students are taking. In this way, the students identify at several levels: as professionals given the opportunity to enhance their craft by following a new model, as IDs in a community of practice sharing reflections on their profession, and as learners experiencing designed learning activities from a critical perspective. For DI, identification meant drawing the learner into the scenario using second-person voiceYou are sitting down to your shift, as if the learner was the forecaster in the case study. As the scenario proceeds, the learner has to make decisions and use data identical to those the actual forecaster would have used at the time, furthering the identification. In the products created by BI and CI, as well, learners are asked to participate directly in a situation in which the instructional content has to be applied, but the narration is more explicit. In CIs case, the learner is the house guest of a family in Florida, welcomed at the front door of their home, and asked by the family to help prepare for the potential of the coming hurricane. For CI, one of the primary goals of the module is to connect with peoples lives, and to show that people in this place . . . know about hurricanes. In this way, learners identify with the family in ways that help them connect that science means something in peoples lives.

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For BI, the identification is not quite as direct, but the story is more complex. Many dramatic situations are presented in the backstory in which a group of characters work through problems of practice that require the skills being taught. Frequently, learners are asked to help the group analyze their situation or make decisions. BI spoke of the difficulty in creating a narrative that learners would relate to. If its not real or compelling, then it has a tendency to hurt the content, even if the content is true. In AFs case, like that of EF in part, learners are encouraged to identify with the instructor rather than a fictional character. One goal of AFs teaching is to have students develop a positive attitude toward math, and this is achieved by demonstrating that attitude. Tension (Withholding) In some cases, the opening engagement of the instruction is maintained through careful use of tension. Some participants even speak of withholding information in order to create expectation and curiosity. For CI, this is inherent in the narrative structure associated with the approaching hurricane: Maybe theres interest and anticipation on when the hurricanes going to hit . . . That was sort of our goal, to have a little suspense. Tension was also introduced through game-like elements forcing learners to explore the space of the narrative to find the available resources. For DI, tension is also inherent in the case study approach, but there is a small element of misdirection included as well. As the case unfolds, theyre going to be confronted with the nuances and why they blew the forecast [why the weather event misled them, which is likely for this case]. Similarly, the backstory in the module designed by BI contains a mystery that is solved only by following the story closely, and is revealed only near the end. There are all kinds of red herrings that are laid out throughout. . . . [The characters] model the content itself in that you dont want to jump to conclusions. You want to measure, analyze, re-measure. You want the learner to experience that. You draw them into the misdirection, as well as the characters. The teachers in the study (AF and EF), in contrast to the designers, were more reluctant to introduce tension. As AF puts it, I think theres probably more than enough there already. However, even AF creates a gentle tension with the frequent unexpected activities, like mathematical sing-alongs. EFs original course design

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began with activities that were likely quite new to the learners, and for which limited guidance is provided. We are clear in what we want them to build, but we are not obvious in describing it to them. E recalled a comment she had heard that justified this treatment: When you have someone teaching you, you have to suspend your own judgment and just go where [the teacher] is going. However, in the follow-on interview, EF spoke of how the course had been redesigned to make it more coherent, to have it make more sense to people. In the redesigned course, EF and the co-instructor provided a roadmap that better explained where students were headed and why. As a result, no one had dropped the online course at the midpoint, where several students had dropped out in previous incarnations of the course. Perhaps the nature of online instruction with its larger transactional distance, and perhaps with the complex nature of mathematical content (for AF), added tension simply places excessive demand on learners. Limits (Student Acceptance, Practical Constraints) While all the participants strove to develop engagement, they also realized that some situational factors were beyond their control. For example, students have limited capacity or willingness to suspend disbelief during instruction. In addition, practical constraints mean that efforts can only go so far before budget, development team consensus, and the necessity to cover sufficient content limit them. (DI) Initially I was hoping I could set more of a roll, use a tone that you are on shift, playing the whole game of a case scenario. Thats the first sentence, You are sitting down to your shift. I was hoping to sustain that tone, but working with subject matter experts, that tone went away. (CI) Right off the bat theres maybe pretty high engagement. Then . . . maybe when they get to this [computer] screen they may be disappointed. Then theres this worksheet thing, and this inherently means work, so the average student is thinking, Oh, were going to have to do a worksheet? Middle Qualities (Growing Comfort, Boredom, Pattern, Routine) Participants noted varying qualities about the middle instruction events. Some noted that the middle marked a potential growing comfort with the instruction and a willingness to see it through. If the teacher has been successful, he or she will also

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have gained the trust of learners by this point, and will have created an environment where reaching the end appears achievable. However, some noted that limitations of engagement strategies rise prominently in the middle, and that it can be a challenge to hold interest. If engagement is difficult to sustain, the use of pattern and routine can help learners keep on task. (BI) If theyve been through it all, they know the team [in the back story] and they know the problem. Maybe theyre interested. Then hopefully theyre starting to get interested in some of the tools. How you can actually measure quality in a service environment. Theyre starting to get intrigued about what they could do [in their own workplace]. (AF) I think theyre feeling pretty comfortable [by the middle]. I think theyve figured out by now that its not me against them. . . . Theyre much more trusting, and theyre believing a lot more of what I do. . . . I think they look back at the beginning of the course and think, I dont know why I was so scared. (DI) [By the middle] I think theyll be thinking that these guys really tried to make it look as if were really in the midst of a true [weather] forecast. . . . The engagement might be a little less than I was hoping. . . . [but] I think once they get used to the amount of data at their fingertips, theyll be engaged with the analytical aspects of this. (CI) By the time they get [to the middle] they know theres a story, they know theres a hurricane coming, they know the routinethey know the drill of the dog thing, then you do the computer thing. They sort of know what to expect. Climax, Turning Point None of the participants had difficulty in pointing to a climax or turning point within the instruction. This point may have been either a surprise or puzzle that added an interesting twist, an Aha moment, or a low point to be overcome, making the rest of the experience easy in comparison. (AF) In a math class, that point in the semester you would call a climax . . . I think is more related to a [difficult] concept. . . . You see this again and again, this struggle point. . . . And thats kind of a low point of the semester. . . . But I do see a lot of students at this point go, Its not as hard as I thought. Its a kind of Aha moment.

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(BI) [The climax] is when they actually measure and find out what the problem is [in the backstory]. (CI) [In the scenario] we had the electricity go off. It breaks up the whole structure and the pacing. And its timed with how hurricanes [actually] disrupt things. (DI) Theres the juggernaut in there of the banding taking place. . . . I still think theres no way that youd ever be able to forecast banding at that level. . . . But I dont see that as a bad thing . . . if it sparks somebodys interest to go research something else. . . . In retrospect, these cases are great to look at, because they are intriguing. (EF) Id say [the climax] is when they have to use all the work weve done in the beginning to design a blueprint for their own course. They actually have to pull in everything. And the ones who are able to do that have major Ahas. Ending Qualities (Closure, Open-endedness) Participants spoke of mixed goals in providing closure for the instruction. First, there is the goal of providing a solid conclusion to the story of the course (EI) by reaching a logical ending. There is also the goal of drawing the entire experience into a unified whole, showing how all the parts of the course were necessary for reaching its conclusion. At the same time, there is a desire to keep the end somewhat open, to indicate that the end is another beginning, or that the course is just the starting point for deeper, more important learning to take place. For AF, while the last Calculus I class session is a time for celebration, with an awards ceremony for those who have gotten As on all their tests, there is also the fact that the final few days of the course were spent on Calculus II content, giving students a preview of where they may be heading next. CI felt strongly that the instructional design was faulty in that it didnt provide enough linkage back to the classroom, where the teacher and students could carry forward with other related activities. For EF, the course ends with a reflection and becomes a rite of passage, where learners are told, Welcome to the group of instructional designers who think through learning. For BI and DI, the end of the back story and the end of the severe weather case provide natural closure to the instructional experience. Teaching as Art

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When asked for their opinions about the artistic aspects of teaching and instructional design, each of the participants had well formed thoughts on the matter, indicating that they had considered this question before. (AF) Watching someone do the teaching process well is like watching a broadway show. . . . I think the feeling that you get is emotionally similar to looking at great art or hearing great music. (BI) I think great art changes perception. And . . . great instruction should change perception as well. I dont know that its been done, but I think that its possible that great instructional design could be an art form. (CI) I feel that teaching is a spontaneous, creative art. Teachers think they have a plan, and they have strategies, and the content, but theyre in the moment too. . . . Theres an aesthetic value in and of itself. I think its important. It makes learning real. (DI) You know youve got all these theories . . . but its a very creative process to actually take your content and put it into a structure. . . . And thats a very creative thing, where youre blending theory with aesthetics and common sense and some usability ideas. (EF) Its artistic because I can impact peoples lives and their emotions. Its artistic because there is no one solution. Discussion This study described above may be significant for three reasons. First, it begins to provide a description of instructional experiences from the viewpoint of practitioners that reveals their aesthetic qualities. A depiction of those qualities that arose from the data is summarizes below. Second, it shows that the concept of aesthetic experience may be a useful lens for interpreting and evaluating the work of practitioners in the fields of education and training. This lens could provide justification for applying approaches from arts criticism to the interpretation of how teachers and IDs work. Third, it points to the potential value of aesthetic principles derived from various art forms as sources for instructional strategies. Because the arts possess the inherent quality of engagement (Berleant, 1991), these strategies could lead to improved learning. The Aesthetic Experience of Instruction

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Based on the themes that emerged from this study, one can image an account of the aesthetic qualities of a learning experience as it unfolds. The composite picture below is based on beliefs expressed by participants and describes the impacts of many of the aesthetic decisions they might make. It is not intended as a model of learning, but as a story derived from practitioner experience. As learners enter a formal instructional situation, they may do so with a wide variety of anticipatory feelings. They may be fearful, skeptical that the experience will be worthwhile, ambivalent but willing to trust the instructor (at least for a little while), or ideally, optimistic and highly motivated. Each of these initial feelings is either justified or modified by their experience at the start of the course or first engagement with a self-paced product, coloring their attitude as they proceed. Because negative feelings can interfere with learning by reducing either engagement or expectations, the instructor or designer typically has included a strategy to minimize them. If so, learners may lose their negative feelings (or improve upon their neutral ones) and become engaged with the instruction, either through enjoyable and familiar activity, unique or pleasant sensory experiences, or the creation of a sense of drama, mystery, or anticipation. By the middle of the experience, if things have gone well, learners may have forgotten their fears and skepticism. They may experience an increased feeling of belonging and trust, but the reality that learning is hard work has set in. The first part may have gone by quickly, but the end is still far way away and a substantial amount of work remains to be accomplished. The role of the instructor or ID in this phase is often simply to make the experience as bearable as possible by providing a routine pattern to the activities and clarity in the instructional communications. Inevitably, some of the luster and newness of the experience is lost, and only if learners maintain sufficient trust in the experience and are sufficiently willing to suspend disbelief to continue the temporarily crafted relationship of student and instructor will their engagement stay intact. Finally, the end comes, typically in a fluster of activity. The shear exhaustion that accompanies the conclusion of this final activity, if kept in balance, adds emotional intensity to a feeling of conclusion and restored order. The instructor or ID can provide further closure by creating opportunities for learners to reflect on what theyve learned, helping to tie the preceding learning activities into a unified whole by showing how they were each necessary to get to this point. Perhaps there is also a ritual of closure that points out how far learners have

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come, and there may be reference to the fact that life goes on beyond the experience, but will forever be touched by it, adding significance to the parting. Trust comes up frequently in the above account because it was strongly implied by participants as a necessary condition for effective learning. Similarly, others have pointed to trust as an intrinsic aspect of artistic endeavors. Cavells (1976) advice to artists could also be advice for teachers and instructional designers who respect the individual intentions of their students. He tells artists that they must necessarily take chances, but also to remember that . . . you are inviting others to take them with you. And since they are, nevertheless, your own, and your invitation is based not on power or authority, but on attraction and promise, your invitation incurs the most exacting of obligations: that every risk must be shown worthwhile, and every infliction of tension lead to a resolution, and every demand on attention and passion be satisfiedthat risks those who trust you cant have known they would take, will be found to yield value they cant have known existed (p. 199). Conclusion This study demonstrated that its participants consciously attended to the criteria of aesthetic experience discussed by Dewey (1934/1989). One prominent, primary connection between the practice of participants and the Deweys aesthetics was their use of tension to enhance engagement in the experience. Dewey suggested that aesthetic experience arises from the rhythmic tension between experienced disruption and harmony. Learners may experience tension by confronting complex content and the desire to complete the course successfully, or instructors and IDs can impose it by finding dramatic conflict within the content or with purposeful withholding and controlled release of information (see the above comments on Tension in the Findings section). The participants also worked to achieve a consummatory experience for learners, using narrative or other techniques to reveal how the content of the course fit together. The dramatic structure of several of the instructional designs inherently created anticipation of this consummation. Finally, as the data shows, each participant was cognizant of the immediacy of their learners experiences, and could discuss the expected thoughts and feelings of learners at each

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stage of the course or module. They demonstrated clear concern for many details of the learning environment that would help create a rich, immediate experience for learners. This study focused on the design of whole courses or large modules that likely take more than one session to complete. It would also be useful to look at smaller and larger scales of learning experiences for ways in which aesthetic principles can and do come into play. What is the pattern of aesthetic experience for individual lessons or class sessions? In what ways do even smaller scale activities play out? What is the role of feedback in adjusting the qualitative immediacy during instruction? At the other extreme, one might also ask how larger scale experiences, such as degree programs, display aesthetic qualities. These questions are only touched upon in this study and deserve further investigation. In addition to descriptive outcomes, research on aesthetic practice in teaching and instructional design could also lead to prescriptive outcomes. Identifying current practices and observing what appears to create the desired learning impact through particular aesthetic strategies can lead to a catalog of strategies for instruction. Educators may be able to elaborate and more clearly describe these strategies by finding comparisons to strategies applied by artists. Because learning experiences play out over time, temporally constrained art forms like literature and music might offer the best strategic resources (Parrish, in press). For example, if we discover that pacing strategies used by teachers and IDs reveal rhythms similar to those used by composers of music, this may mean that we can study musical composition to reveal untried subtleties of those strategies for instructors to employ, not to mention complete genres of pacing that may have been unconsidered.

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CHAPTER 6 EXPERIENCES OF ENGAGEMENT WITH THE ONLINE LEARNING MODULE: USING THE WRF MESOSCALE MODEL Abstract Mixed-methods were used to investigate conditions and qualities of learning engagement among learners using contrasting treatments of an online learning module designed for professional weather forecasters. Participants rated their engagement level for nine module sections and described enhancing and inhibiting factors. Surveys also measured attitudes toward module qualities, and four participants provided think-aloud and interview responses. One treatment included qualities intended to enhance engagement; the second removed several of these. Findings showed highly variable patterns of engagement uncorrelated with the independent variables, including treatment; all participants had high and low engagement levels at times. Engagement proved to be a significant concern for learners and appeared to be dependent upon many more interrelationships between the learner, the materials, and the situation than those investigated. Introduction The outcomes of any instructional event are numerous and varied. Some are immediately visible, such as measured improvements on objective tests, indicating a growth in knowledge about the content taught. Some are more subtle and difficult to measure, such as the ability, inclination, and confidence to apply that knowledge in practical situations in life and on the job. Others are difficult to define, let alone measure, such as developing positive attitudes toward learning and commitment to professional practiceoutcomes we might associate more with character growth than with knowledge gains. Yet all of these are critical in the development of learners into strong performers, and all can be impacted by learning experiences, as argued by Wilson, Parrish, & Veletsianos (in press). These outcomes vary in the degree to which they open themselves up to research and assessment largely due to concomitant variables that play a role in their achievement. As we move from assessing objective knowledge gains to affective changes in learners, it becomes harder to point to single events as the source of the changeindividual differences and existing environmental factors become more critical. Also, because the evidence of outcomes like a change in attitude toward

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learning, confidence, or commitment to a profession can be subtle or revealed only in the long term, research and assessment run into practical constraints. In assessing learning, it is tempting to settle for easily gathered measures like appeal (measured most frequently via end-of-course surveys) and immediate knowledge gain (measured via objective tests). Though important, and perhaps at times central, these dont adequately demonstrate whether instruction is contributing to outcomes with broader and longer term effects. When feasible, it will be prudent to attempt assessment of all outcomes being produced by instruction. Otherwise, we remain unsure about the broader impacts of our instructional designs and when and how to apply them. To get at these broader outcomes, we need to consider all the qualities of the learning experience, not just whether learners meet its intended objectives and claim to enjoy doing so. Learning experience, in part, refers to how learners respond to the instructionwhether their interest is piqued, the degree of challenge, how they respond to learning activities, and their attitudes toward the content, instructional methods, and medium used. But experience is not merely a collection of psychological states. A more pragmatic conception is that it represents the interaction between an individual and the world, and not just states of mind (Dewey, 1925/2000). In this sense, learning experience includes the instructional content and its presentation; the teachers, designers, or facilitators and the roles they assume; the media and technologies employed; and perhaps most importantly, the quality of interaction with these. As in any significant life experience, learning experiences require interaction, or transaction, between objective conditions and the learner (Dewey, 1938/1997). This transaction takes place when a learner submits to the experience and becomes sufficiently engaged to exert effort to understand new ideas or develop new skills, and the instructor or materials respond by providing guidance, new information, or feedback about the success of the attempt..Contrary to common conception, experience is not merely something that happens to a person. Instructional providers and learners have a mutual responsibility for creating an effective learning experience. The effectiveness of that experience may be understood pragmatically as its level of potential impact. For example, experience that is characterized by boredom and mindless routine is unlikely to have a lasing impact other than to create aversion to similar experiences. Experiences that are scattered, unorganized, or incomplete also will be unsatisfying, unremarkable, and likely unmemorable as well. However, at times experience can be characterized by challenge and anticipation, opportunities to interact and influence conditions, and ideas and activities that are highly compelling. If we want learning to occur and have its deepest impacts, the latter type of experience is what we strive for in instruction. As we progress from mindless routine to meaningful endeavors, the presence of higher levels of engagement becomes clear. In fact, the quality of engagement may be the best evidence of potential for broader positive outcomes of learning experiences. But how do we know when engagement occurs? In

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what ways is it manifested? What influences or deters engagement, and how do we design instruction to encourage it? Exploring Engagement Successful instruction, particularly when intended to result in understanding versus rote memorization, requires that learners actively engage in learning rather than passively attending to content delivery (Bransford, Brown, Cocking, Donovan, & Pellegrino, 2000). Active engagement, in turn, is dependent on the presence of sufficient desire to learn. A convenient assumption is that cognitive gains are indicators of all useful learning outcomes, that if they are achieved all the other qualities of a learning experience are moot. Colored by this assumption, instructional design decisions may focus entirely on developing logical content sequences and presenting well explained ideas. If the cognitive outcomes are not achieved, failure may be blamed on poor sequencing, bad explanation, or more often, limited effort on the part of learners to understand. Instructional providers are unlikely to blame their own inattention to stimulating a desire to learn (Garrison, 1997). This assumption is due in part to the prevalent idea that the cognitive and affective goals of instruction are separate considerations. Yet even Krathwohl, Bloom, & Masia (1964), originators of the most often cited taxonomies of instructional outcomes, express reluctance about an artificial division between the cognitive and affective domains, suggesting instead that nearly all cognitive objectives have an affective component if we search for it (p. 48). One possible meaning of their comment is that all compelling ideas (those with the power to stimulate new learning) are fueled with emotional qualities along with practical or logical ones (Dewey, 1934/1989; Wong, Pugh, & The Dewey Ideas Group, 2001). Learning is itself always an emotional enterprise (Pekrun, Goetz, Titz, & Perry, 2002)either we remain uncompelled and unlikely to learn, or we become invested in the efforts to the point that it matters to us that we achieve valued outcomes, and even at times to the point where the immediate pleasures of learning supersede future considerations. The expressions of deep frustration or significant joy in achievement made by engaged learners demonstrate the emotional content of learning experiences. Frequently, learners even attach learning outcomes to their self identity. Anderman & Wolters (2006) reviewed research to uncover the relationships between affect, goals, and values, and to show how these influence learning and engagement. They identified important, although complex and often indirect relationships. Furthermore, they showed that each of these constructs has multiple dimensions that influence learning differently. Most significant for this study, they concluded that the highly contextual and individual influences on student motivation have been insufficiently accounted for in educational research, leading to research with often conflicting results.

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Engagement is a broad construct, with its most common definition being associated with intention or commitment, as in a marriage engagement. In education, the term is often used in a similar way to describe the social commitment a student makes to a learning environment, such as the university he or she is attending (Hoffman, Perillo, Hawthorne Calizo, Hadfield, & Lee, 2005). Engagement is sometimes conflated with interest, perhaps with interest seen as the psychological state behind engagement behaviors (Hidi & Renninger, 2006). However, all of these approaches are counter to a notion of engagement as a quality not of the person but of the experience, which includes psychological states, behaviors, and conditions of the world equally. Like Dewey (e.g., 1934/1989), Reed et al. (2002) see engagement as an activity-related process that subsumes the psychological states of involvement and interest. At times, engagement reaches levels in which experience is infused with meaning beyond what can be pointed to as utilitarian, where connection to the situation is immediate and immersive, and in which people might describe themselves as feeling fully alive (Berleant, 1991). These heightened experiences of complete engagement can be referred to as aesthetic in Deweys (1934/1989) sense of intensified immediate experience that people can have in the course of everyday life. This kind of engagement is most closely associated with intrinsic motivation and strong situational interest (Schraw & Lehman, 2001). Situational interest is related positively to learning, but it describes only psychological states and not the holistic experience as the unit of analysis. For this reason, it may only partially explain the powerful impact described by Deweys concept of aesthetic experience (Dewey, 1934/1989). Situational interest does not fully account for the transactional nature of experience, while aesthetic experience is dependent upon it. However, each of these related constructs, although varied in their perspectives, suggests useful criteria for evaluating engagement. For the purposes of this study, learning engagement has two facets. It includes a commitment made by the learner to master instructional content, a willingness to reflect deeply upon its value and application, and a trusting submission to the instructional situation. Beyond task persistence or having a performance goal orientation (Anderman & Wolters, 2006), which might indicate merely coercion or expected extrinsic rewards, engagement may be indicated when learners exhibit a developing curiosity, anticipate that questions that come to mind will be answered, genuinely attempt to solve problems presented, generate new ideas about the content, and have a concern about learning outcomes that goes beyond a passing grade. Engagement requires an active contribution from the learner to the learning experience, not just passive reception of information or perfunctory participation. However, beyond what is brought by the learner, engagement also includes those qualities of instruction that enhance the immediacy, malleability, and resonance of the experience. These instructional qualities include:

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Stimulating investment of effort by offering opportunities for interaction and contribution Encouraging exploration by presenting stimulating ideas or puzzling information Creating anticipation and expectation for resolution of conflicts and problems Attempting to find connections to learners experiences outside the learning environment Allowing room for learners to own the experience rather than merely participate Encouraging reflection and consolidation of meaning

This study represents an initial attempt to understand learning engagement as exhibited when learners use an online, self-paced instructional module developed by The COMET Program. Module Design In many online learning modules produced by The COMET Program for its primary audience of professional weather forecasters, the project teams employ design features such as learning scenarios, numerous application-oriented interactions with a high degree of fidelity to the work environment, and enhanced multimedia used to demonstrate complex concepts. The expectation is that for many learners these more complex features will have both immediate and lasting impacts, that they can encourage high degrees of engagement, stimulate deeper learning, improve retention and transfer of learning to the job, and develop more positive attitudes toward training leading to a stronger commitment to future professional development. Because these materials are used almost exclusively in self-paced environments, there are few opportunities to interact with learners during instruction to monitor engagement or attempt to influence it in real time. For this reason, much care goes into creating features intended to help learners become engaged. The goal of this design-based research project (The Design-Based Research Collective, 2003) was to better understand the impacts of these features on learning engagement with the published Web-based module, Using the AFWA WRF Mesoscale Model. Because this particular module has both cognitive goals (for example, those related to understanding NWP model improvements and their impacts on model weather forecasts) and explicit affective goals (those related to increasing willingness to use mesoscale model guidance in the forecast process), it provided a good basis for looking at broad impacts. The outcomes are meant to inform COMET about potential refinements it could make in its design and implementation approaches for future products.

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The design processes included several techniques meant to increase consideration of the learner experience, and several decisions were made to impact this experience in pointed ways. The intent was to create an aesthetic experience of learning, one in which compelling problems or ideas, significant opportunities for interaction, and a defined content and activity structure are meant to lead learners through a process of anticipation, exploration, and consummation of learning (Parrish, in press). The study also considers the impacts of these design approaches on the creation and experience of the end-product. From the beginning, rather than describing the goals of the module only in terms of its content or intended learning outcomes, an instructional theme guided its development. Because the project had experiential goals with assumed outcomes broader than could be captured in traditional learning objectives, a description of learning activities was central to conveying those goalsthe activities could not be considered secondary decisions. For this reason, an action-oriented theme was created to represent the project to the sponsor and development team and to support several follow-on design techniques. The theme was couched in these terms: In the process of working through a series of realistic, interactive scenarios, learners will gain increased knowledge and appreciation of the applications, advantages, and limitations of the new WRF mesoscale model and practice techniques for using its guidance in their forecast process. Based on this theme, a design story was written and included in the project plan to communicate the experiential goals of the project. Design stories, or user scenarios, provide a concrete but hypothetical walk-through of a representative learner during the learning experience. Writing stories in the design phase of a project can help designers consider how their decisions may impact learners in a variety of ways (Parrish, 2006a). A full version of the story is provided in Appendix C. In this case, the design story also communicated to the sponsor how the product would meet both the cognitive and affective goals of the project, and guided the development team in addressing these goals as the instructional content as it was created. Once the story was written, the module experience could then be envisioned as a path along which content segments and activities could be plotted and their impact anticipated. Borrowing techniques used by fiction writers to help them address the aesthetic qualities of their narratives, instructional designers can use narrative diagrams to plot learning paths intended to achieve engagement (Parrish, 2008a). Narrative diagrams aid in planning learning activity and content sequences, but the diagram represents the experiential goal, not the expected experience of each learner.

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Figure 6.1: Narrative diagram of Using the WRF Mesoscale Model Several design decisions regarding instructional approach and content sequence were made to give the learning experience qualities of a well formed narrative, as depicted in Figure 6.1. For example, Section 1 provides an introductory problem; in this case the weather forecasts from two different NWP models provide conflicting guidance to a forecaster. This is done in the form of a relevant workplace scenario, and treated somewhat like the opening of a detective novelit is left unresolved in the introduction in an attempt to create anticipation of the content about to be treated. The module continues in Section 2 by further exploring the introductory scenario, followed by three additional scenarios in Sections 3-5, each presented as problems for the learner to solve prior to receiving explanation in feedback and summary pages. The problems in these sections, and throughout the module, provide a rich set of graphical data products to examine along with drawing tools that allow learners to record their analyses to facilitate comparisons. These four sections demonstrate improvements offered by the WRF model for forecasting in a variety of forecast situations. They are intended to create trust and motivation for using WRF forecast guidance products while demonstrating practical methods for their application. Their problem-solving format is meant to keep learners engaged while their interest in the model has a chance to develop. The final third of the module, Sections 6-9, begins with a challenge to what has been learned intended to stimulate new engagement, asking learners to consider limitations to the improvements brought by the WRF model. Sections 6 and 7 discuss predictability limitations and caveats about using mesoscale model guidance like that provided by the WRF model. While the preceding content works to enhance the reputation of the WRF as an improved forecast tool, these sections remind learners that they cant trust the model implicitly and that more judgment on their part is required. Section 8 provides a new scenario and set of interactive problems. It is meant to resolve the preceding challenges by demonstrating a method to apply critical judgment in using

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mesoscale models in conjunction with global models, overcoming weaknesses inherent in both. This final scenario acts as a consummating activity that links all that has been learned previously. In contrast, section 9 is a text-only document that offers a detailed representation of the diagnosis and decision-making processes demonstrated in the module. It is not meant to be learned in one sitting, and is in fact also provided as a printable PDF for on-the-job reference. The total run-time of the modules audio narration is two hours. Time-on-task was nearly double for some learners. Throughout the module, multimedia visualizations of meteorological processes are used to illustrate principles being discussed. In addition, great effort was made to obtain operational data products to enhance the realism of the scenario exercises. This attention to the visual qualities of the instruction was done for explanatory reasons and for realism, but also to create a stimulating visual environment for learners, who would be using it in isolation from fellow learners and an instructor. Weather forecasters are also more accustomed to interacting with visual information than a preponderance of verbal information. To provide a degree of control and comparison, a second treatment was prepared by eliminating several elements from the design. Treatment A was the full module as designed for publication. The leaner Treatment B contained all instructional content, but eliminated the scenarios and interactions. For example, all content provided during exercise feedback was instead presented directly. The openended problem in Section 1 was also eliminated since this content was included in the second section. The instructional content sequence was otherwise unaltered, but the time to complete the module was reduced by approximately 30 to 45 minutes. Research Questions The primary research question for the study rested on a desire to understand in broad terms the nature of learning engagement with this online learning module: How does the level of level of learner engagement evolve during experiences with the module? What is the nature of that engagement? What features or content contribute to the experienced level of engagement?

Other questions of interest related to the degree of coherence perceived in the module, the relationship between learning, engagement, and attitudes toward module qualities, and how prior attitudes and experience influenced engagement. Finally, the study looked at how an explicit orientation toward learning experience may have impacted the design and development process. Research Methods

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The study employed a mixed-methods research approach (Johnson & Onwuegbuzie, 2003), seeking to draw from the strengths of both quantitative (e.g., quasi-experimental components and Likert-scale survey items) and qualitative methodologies (e.g., interviews, think-aloud protocol, and free-response survey items). Mixed methods were used because both types of data were important for the research questions, and because a small sample size was anticipated, which would limit usefulness of some quantitative data. The qualitative methods were considered central for getting at the nature of learner experience, allowing participants to express their experiences in their own terms and perhaps bringing up unanticipated factors. Quantitative methods would help uncover relationships between important variables influencing that experience. Results on tests associated with the module were also considered useful in demonstrating the value of its design approaches, but not the only demonstration of value. Mixed methods approaches are often preferred when investigating complex human phenomena like learning with technology because they can provide triangulation, complementarity, and expansion of results over single methods approaches (Onwuegbuzie & Leech, 2004). Qualitative results can enhance interpretation of the quantitative outcomes in the study, and quantitative results may support the intersubjectively analyzed qualitative results. Quantitative data collected included pre- and post-test scores, demographic information, attitude-scales derived from survey data, and single-item attitude ratings about specific learning experience qualities. (see Appendix D, Treatment A Survey). A randomized item module quiz was used for both pre- and post-testing, assessing important cognitive learning outcomes outlined in the learning objectives, including several performance-based items. The qualitative component employed primarily phenomenological research methods (Moustakas, 1994), including seeking free expressions of experience from four participants during lengthy interviews, and employing think-aloud protocol to uncover qualities of the immediate experience. Qualitative data analyzed included interview transcripts, research notes, and responses to open-ended survey questions provided by those not interviewed. Research participants were selected from members of the target audience for the moduleAir Force and Navy weather forecastersprimarily based on availability and representativeness. The forecasters learned about the study from and agreed to participate at the request of their organizations training staff. They were randomly assigned to either Treatment A (N=9) or B (N=11). Research Results: Engagement Levels Level of Engagement

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Participants were asked to rate their level of engagement for each of 9 sections of the module on a scale of 1-7, either while using it or immediately after. The majority used the rating scale in the process of taking the module, which ensured a response unmodified by reflection. While this was the desired protocol, because it was assumed that some participants would have taken the module prior to the study, this was not required. In order to have participants rate similar qualities of their experience, they were prompted to consider the following indicators as evidence of their engagement: Your curiosity about the content grew as you learned more. You anticipated the answers to questions and solutions to problems posed. In general, you found yourself thinking a lot about the material and caring whether you fully understood it. For example, you may have reviewed pages if you were unsure you fully understood them the first time. You made significant effort to complete exercises and understand the feedback provided. You could easily imagine yourself in the positions of the characters in the scenarios. You were concerned about getting useful outcomes from the instruction.

Additional indicators and qualities of engagement were sought from learners during the interviews and open-ended survey items. Recalling the narrative diagram provide in Figure 6.1 above, the experiential goals for learner engagement were a rapid rise at the start through the introduction of a recognizable and difficult problem of practice; a relatively steady level of engagement during the middle as improvements of the WRF are explored and explained in new exercises; and a new rising engagement in the final third as complication is increased and resolution to that complications is offered. Compare these goals to actual ratings of engagement by participants in Figure 6.2.

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Figure 6.2: Engagement patterns of all participants. As Figure 6.2 reveals, the most salient feature in the plots of engagement was a lack of pattern. Instead, the rated levels of engagement reveal a high degree of variability, leading to a strong clustering of means at the middle levels. Figure 6.3 uses box plots to depict mode (dark horizontal bar) and values within one and two quartiles (boxes and vertically extending lines, respectively), separated by Treatments A (Full) and B (Lean). Table 6.1 shows the median engagement for each section and module average engagement across all sections by treatment group and for all participants. No statistical differences were indicated for any of these quantities by treatment group.

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Figure 6.3: Box plots of engagement level by section for Treatments A and B, showing mode, quartiles, and outliers. Table 6.1 Mean Engagement Level by Section and Average Module Engagement
Group S1 S2 S3 S4 S5 S6 S7 S8 S9 Avg Treat. A (N=9) 4.50 4.63 4.38 4.50 4.00 4.88 5.00 4.00 4.00 4.38 Treat. B (N=11) 3.82 4.73 5.18 5.00 5.09 4.64 4.64 4.18 3.36 4.52

Both Groups 4.11 4.68 4.84 4.79 4.63 4.74 4.79 4.11 3.61 4.46

Discussion of Engagement Level Statistics A few aspects about these data might be noted:

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All sections other than section 8 and 9 show a mean engagement value above level four (or medium) for both treatment groups. Relative engagement can be considered moderately good for these sections, although of course inconsistent. The desired rise in engagement for Sections 6 and 7 is present only for the group using Treatment A (and mildly so). More importantly, there is a decrease in mean engagement for Section 8 in both groups. As shown in Figure 6.3, with the exception of sections 1 and 9 for Treatment B, all sections received high engagement level ratings of either 6 or 7 (the highest rating) by one or more participants. In addition, all received low ratings of 3 or less. Six of nine sections were given engagement ratings of 2 or 1 by at least one participant.

It is clear that experiences of engagement were highly individualized, that learners had highly individualized responses to the content and design features. The individual variability indicated in Figure 6.2 is supported by the facts that the average highest section engagement rating was 5.89, and the average low rating was 2.68. In other words, regardless of the use of interactions and scenarios (treatment differences), for nearly every learner there were at some point during the experience both high and low feelings of engagement. Furthermore, the occurrence of these highs and lows did not correspond between learners. It should be remembered that the ratings of engagement by learners were relative from section to section. This may have had a tendency to exaggerate the variability, but the absolute values are less important than the trends and comparisons between sections. These are what might help us understand factors leading to engagement and disengagement. To get at these factors, we need to turn to the qualitative data. Qualitative Data on Level of Engagement Each learner was asked to describe which content or features were most and least interesting or engaging about the module. For this question, ten of 16 chose to respond by describing content. Five others responded by mentioning features (two mentioned the multimedia design, while three mentioned the interactions in treatment A). The final respondent liked all aspects of the module. Eight of the ten participants choosing to mention content referenced specific sections, although the sections mentioned varied, as might be expected from the above statistics. Sections 3, 4, 5, 7, and 8 were all mentioned as being high points by one or more participants:

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To me, (sections) 4 and 7 were pretty much the meat and potatoes they were the anchor of it. We use meteograms all the time but you dont really break it down too much. But to know that theres a little more to it than that... (Section) 7 (on caveats about WRF model guidance) was good; it was very direct, and not difficult to follow. It got right to the point, said here it is, and walked you through each step of the point. Another participant also chose section 4 because of its treatment of a commonly faced problem, even though in the end it didnt meet expectations: Because I, for one, have struggled with precipitation intensity. I was really interested to find out how its going to solve that problem. But . . . it didnt go far enough. Three participants mentioned the discussions on NWP forecasts in complex terrain, which occurred primarily in Sections 3 and 5: Section 5, page 7This part was really good. Showing the difference in the gridding of the terrain for the WRF versus the GFS. Theres a big difference there, and its all because of the way the terrain is depicted. Thats really good. In pointing out what was least engaging about the experience, 7 of 12 participants again focused on content. Three of these specifically mentioned Section 8 (saturation of information was the factor highlighted by two: Going from chart to chart trying to show differences between model runs and times.), while the others mentioned module content in general, including incomplete or narrow content or a generally high degree of difficulty. Section 8 was also a prominent choice when participants were asked which parts of the module were most and least useful. Two mentioned it as most useful, while four mentioned it as least useful. One of the participants citing Section 8 as least engaging also mentioned it as the containing the most useful content, suggesting that utility is not in itself a factor sufficient for generating engagement. I never thought of this before. I dont know why. If you got something thats not doing a good job with the diurnal but its got the baseline temperature, just move it up. That just seems so simple; it was just, Thats a really good idea!

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Items Correlated to Module Average Engagement Pearson bivariate correlations were calculated across all variables and survey items to check for relationships. Tests of significance were two-tailed, and significance was assumed at p < .05. Module Average Engagement (the average engagement level across all module sections for individual participants) was not correlated to any of the independent variables (including Treatment), nor to test scores or improvement, so no T-Tests or calculations of ANOVA proved useful. However, Module Average Engagement was correlated significantly with several Likert-scale survey items that deserve mention. These correlations suggest that engagement is likely either an outcome or potential cause of the factors implied by these items. These include: Q5.3, I had some powerful learning moments during the module (r = .784, p = . 000, N=16). Learning itself, at least that described as significant by learners (whether or not reflected in objective test results), was most strongly correlated to engagement. Q6.3, Time went by very fast while I took the module (r = .641, p = .007, N=16). This strong correlation suggests that the perception of time changes during engagement, perhaps because it enhances the immediacy of experience, making time seem to move quickly relative to other experiences. Q5.4, I would enjoy taking similar modules in the future (r = .581, p = .018, N=16). As expected, engagement may be linked to positive attitudes toward future learning experience. Q5.1, The module had a clear goal that it achieved (r = .571, p = .021, N=16). Apparently, perceived clarity of instructional intent and success in achieving it was a factor in engagement. This reflects perceptions of unity of the learning experience, a critical aesthetic quality. Q5.36, This module filled in some important gaps in my knowledge about how to forecast with NWP (r = .500, p = .049, N=16). Again, a relationship between learning and engagement is evident, along with relevance.

Additional Qualitative Data on Engagement Engagement was discussed in many other ways during interviews and within the surveys, leading to the following list of descriptors of learning engagement observed by the researcher (R) or described by participants (P), either paraphrased or quoted directly: Beginning to get a sense of the content. Recognition of learning (Oh, I get it.) (P)

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Taking time to carefully study the content. For example, replaying a previous page or rereading a question and reviewing data AFTER having been provided feedback (R) Wanting more examples (P) Moderate frustration in attempts to learn (P) Wanting to know why an answer was incorrect (P) Anticipating that one will learn how to solve important problems. Making statements like, Im really interested to find out what the module will say about this (R) Not noticing negative aspects that might be considerable distractions otherwise (P) Paying attention, trying to learn (P) Being interested (P) Getting a lot out of it (recognizing its utility) (P) Recognition that Im concentrating/spending a lot of time (P) Finding that concentration takes less effort (P) Stopping to think/reflect (P) Leaning toward the computer screen rather than away (R) Looking at all data in the exercises, using the drawing tools provided to circle significant features in that data while pondering the answer (R) Facial expressions of pleasure or of recognition (R)

In looking over the list, one can see that engagement was easily recognized by learners when asked to look for it. They mostly noted an awareness of learning, efforts to learn, or anticipation of learning. While concern about utility is also present, it appears that engagement also provides immediate rewards. Engagement mitigates negative qualities of the experience, like frustration, high effort, and taking a lot of time. The next list provides descriptors of learning disengagement. In this case, all but the final few are direct quotes of participants. Trying to decide if I want to listen or just move on (to the next page) (P) Not caring, just letting it go by (P) Eyes glazing over (P) Feeling the content is excessive (P) Going through the motions (P) Mind wandering, having to force it back (P) Restless movements, slouching posture, leaning away from the computer (R) Stepping through the content quickly, without pausing (R) Finding excuses for taking breaks (R) Viewing a minimum of data in the exercises (R)

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Many of the disengagement descriptors contain metaphors of movement away and obstruction rather than references to knowing and learning, as in the previous list. Minds wandering, letting content go by, moving on, and eyes glazing over all suggest inability to attend to what is in the immediate situation. Feelings of being overwhelmed are implied in many of these. When we turn to what participants noted as qualities of the instruction that increase learning engagement, one can again see that qualities of the content are mentioned more frequently than the nature of the activities. Direct and well structured content (easy to grasp) Discussion/practice just sufficient to get across important points (concise) Relevance/practicality/recognizable situations or problems Human elements (recognition of realistic human responses to problems in the scenarios) Rich explanatory feedback Learning something new Stimulating, high-quality instructional visuals Doing something (rather than being handed something)

Participants offered a longer list if qualities that decrease learning engagement, but those mentioned most often related to the difficulty of the content. Even the more experienced members of the group noted that portions of the content were at a too high level or unnecessarily complex for their professional needs. Some suggested that the modules utility was limited due to its complexity; others accepted the complexity as necessary for a complete treatment of the topic, but noted that it was nevertheless an undesirable quality. The length of the module was another strong factor in limiting engagement, even though it shows up in fewer forms in the list. In fact, the module acquired such a strong reputation for high complexity and excessive length among the learner population at one research location that on the third day of the planned visit no further volunteers could be found. Also note in the list below factors that were also listed as indicators of engagement in the list above. For example, going over content more than once or questioning content, while noted as disengagement factors, are also signs of struggle to learn and relate to the content, i.e., engagement. This demonstrates the fine line that instructors and IDs face in creating engaging material, risking disengagement at the same time one is striving for it. The list of qualities noted as decreasing engagement includes: Unfamiliar technical jargon Content too difficult, over my head, Not understanding what its trying to tell me, feelings of confusion

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Having to go over it again (repeating pages of content) Excessive treatment (not concise, too long for one sitting) Anticipation for information not met Not being made sufficiently prepared for practice exercises Repetitive content Relevance/practicality not apparent Not trusting the accuracy of the content based on personal experience Content not new, already known Interface usability issues (e.g., pages require scrolling, images too small, not noticing navigation elements) Cognitive overhead of media/illustration design (complexity of multiple media, complex diagrams) Tedious narration (becoming tired after hearing a single voice for so long) Scenarios containing details not relevant to the learner

Limitations of the Results The lack of a significant relationship between treatment and engagement or improvement for this set of learners calls for further analysis. After all, many of the treatment differences were directly related to design elements considered important for generating engagement, some even singled out as important by the research participants themselves. These included learning scenarios (stories about realistic weather forecasters and the problems they faced as a basis for the exercises); the exercises themselves, which provided active learning opportunities and a way for learners to test their knowledge; and several animations meant to dramatically demonstrate concepts being taught. The reason could simply be the low number of participants (N=19 for Average Engagement, N=12 for Improvement) and the inability to sufficiently factor out random individual differences. It is also possible that while these factors contributed to engagement, as noted by learners, other factors came into play. Most obvious is the potential occurrence of observer bias. It is likely difficult to think about engagement without stimulating it to some degree. The presence of the researcher or merely having a survey to complete may have encouraged some participants to work harder to stay engaged. Being asked about engagement may at minimum stimulate the reflection inherent in some engaging experiences. This bias may have dampened treatment differences that might occur under other circumstances. Other potential factors are explored below. But it is also clear that while treatment showed no statistically significant effects on either learning or engagement, the lack of interactivity in Treatment B (Lean) did create a feeling that something was lacking. Use of Treatment B was strongly correlated with item Q5.17, I would have gladly spent more time on the module if it had offered additional exercises and examples (r = .744, p = .001, N=17). Two related

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items in the survey unique to Treatment B (and therefore not eligible for correlation statistics) also stood out as the most skewed Likert-scale items. These were, B5.8, I would have learned more if there had been exercises in the module that forced me to solve the problems myself (M=6.0 on a scale of 1-7, N=10), and B5.10, I preferred it that the module did not ask me to spend time working on exercises, but instead stated its facts and presented forecast strategies quickly and directly (M=2.20, N=10). This outcome is supported by comments from the interviews and surveys as well. Those using Treatment A invariable liked having frequent exercises: Instead of just listening and absorbingI can apply it in a manner. And thats good. Throughout the coursethey gave you these boxestrying to get you to solve behind it, and then gave you feedback after it. Instead of just, Heres a question, and then not giving you anything back. After you get done, youre like, Oh, what was I thinking? I was thinking this when I should have been thinking this way. You might continue doing it the same way if nobody tells you. It gives you guidance. They were a little frustrating, but they made you think. If youre a little frustrated, it means youre trying to learn. Those using Treatment B, in addition to the statistical evidence shown in the survey, also commented on the lack of interactivity. I think you can alleviate [the feelings of it being too long] by breaking this up into three presentations. You could do one major area, interact with it as you go, take a final test for just that area. Id be willing to sit through three presentations if there was more interaction that kept you engaged on how youre doing. The lack of interactivity, while it was not fatal for engagement or learning, apparently made engagement more difficult to achieveparticipants had to work harder to stay engaged. However, the level of difficulty of the interactions (and the content in general) and the time they added to completing the module were a disengagement factor for some, perhaps contributing to the balance of engagement between treatments. Among survey items common to both Treatments, some of the most negative, if only mildly so, were Q5.18, The module length was about right (M=3.88 on a scale of 1-7, N=17), and Q5.22, I felt a sense of accomplishment in completing the module (M=3.88, N=17). These reflect feelings of excessive length and, most likely, difficulty. The strong correlation between Treatment and willingness to

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spend more time also indicates that those using Treatment A were not very willing to spend more time on interactions. They felt saturated. Content difficulty was mentioned by nearly all participants: There were a couple of those times (when I wanted to skip content), usually with this technical jargon. Because to me, Im not building a model, Im just trying to figure out what to do with it. Ok, I couldnt understand half the words he was saying, so I was like, Ok, whatever. I was just taking that in and moving on to the next one. I was like, Pfft, whatever. It starts getting technical at points where I dont think its necessary. Because then you kind of get the glazed over look and deer in the headlights. Okaaay, I dont get it. When they started to get into the physics and formulas involved in it, I really lost interest. I didnt care about that. A little too far over my head. Too much technical information without detailed explanations was very frustrating. This probably hurt my level of engagement. Another factor in the non-correlation of Treatment and Engagement is reflected in the lists related to engagementtheir focus on aspects of content and learning. This may show that the participants were highly pragmatic in their approaches to learning, focusing on the utility of the content and their ability to learn from it as their strongest encouragements to engage. This is also suggested in the significant correlation between having had experience forecasting in Southwest Asia (the setting of the scenarios) and item Q6.1, The module kept me interested throughout (r = .593, p = .025, N=16). This suggests that providing the right content at the right level should be considered the priority above how it is expressed and what teaching methodologies are used. Perhaps because the treatments contained the same content, treatment on its own wasnt highly significant. The importance of content is also shown in participants responses to the question, Would you recommend this module to your colleagues? Why or Why not? All participants said they would recommend the module, but some said they would limit their recommendation to those deploying to that region and those who had lots of time. Participants answering why they would recommend it most frequently mentioned the value of the forecast tool itself (the WRF mesoscale model), rather than the module as a learning tool. However, a final explanation about insignificance of treatment should be entertained. While scenarios and interactions were removed from Treatment B, the content sequence and its narrative structure was substantially preserved in Treatment B, and may have been a strong factor in making it as engaging as it was. However, the

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success of the content sequence was limited in the lack of increased engagement in Section 8 for most learners. While the module developers felt strongly that this sections content would be considered engaging, well presented, and highly useful, many if not most participants felt it was overly complicated and unrealistic. A few cited the section as containing a strong learning moment, but they were in the minority, and not restricted to those using a particular treatment. One interview participant felt Section 8 offered not only one of the moments of lowest engagement, but also the most utility, the strongest learning moment, and, ultimately, the highest overall level of engagement of any section. In this case, the redemption of the section in overcoming from the moment of low engagement may have made it stand out, and therefore of highest engagement. Engagement appears to walk a fine line indeed. Research Results: Design Process The inclusion of the design story received positive remarks at the start from the sponsor, project manager, and the subject matter experts. It suggested to them that we were putting more care into the projectthat it wasnt going to be simply a matter of putting content on a Website, but that empathetic consideration of the learners was important. While developing scripts, subject matter experts seemed well in tuned to the need for engaging content, and focused as much on developing engaging and realistic problems as in explaining their answers. This is not always the case. Responding to this effort, the participants using Treatment A showed a positive, though not strong, response to the learning scenarios when asked to rate item A5.3, The story-like qualities of the scenarios helped to keep me engaged (M=5.00 on a scale of 1-7, N=7). The focus on end experience also led the designer and software developer to consider variety, pacing, and impact in the choice and sequence of multimedia presentation. While many designers likely do this intuitively in making media design decisions, the scenarios included in the design, and the design story written to plan and describe the design, placed an increased emphasis on the multimedia experience. Solid content, good explanation, and clear demonstration were always paramount, but along with these, emotional and sensory impacts of the multimedia were strongly considered. The strong positive response to item Q5.29, The graphics and animations in the module were effective (M=5.76, N=7), indicates the multimedia design was successful. Apparently, however, these considerations were not enough to prevent the common tendency of content developers (including the instructional designer and the sponsor representatives who reviewed drafts) to become perhaps too focused on their own interests in the more advanced content. For this targeted group of learners, the module content was often not at the right level, became lengthy in its elaboration of some points, and in some cases was perceived as unrealistic related to job experience. Each of these issues were raised as leading to disengagement and risked reducing the impact of the entire learning experience. Sufficient formative evaluation with targeted

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learners in this case might have mitigated these problems, and revisions to the published version are likely called for. Summary Discussion The only survey item that correlated significantly with Improvement (Post-test minus Pre-test, M=16.42 percent), was item Q5.1, The module had a clear goal that it achieved (r = .656, p = .011, N=14). The most direct interpretation of this correlation is that those who perceived the coherence and logical treatment in the module were those most successful in learning from it. However, an alternative interpretation should be entertained. It might be that the experience of successful learning itself (reflected in Improvement) created perceptions of coherence. In other words, a judgment of coherence might be attributed most to the learners own ability to draw it out of the experience. Of course, the reverse must be considered as welllimited learning led to perceptions that the material had an unclear goal. It is prudent to assume that all of these explanations are at play, especially given the working definition of learning experience as a transaction between the learner and the instruction. In fact, the researcher noted that participants did indeed contribute significantly to their experiences with the module. Most came to the task of learning with the module (and voicing their responses to it) with seriousness and a strong desire to improve both their knowledge and the design of similar products they might use in the future. They expressed joy in learning something new and frustration and annoyance when faced with content and design features that didnt help them learn. Others came to the task with visible reluctance, arriving late for scheduled sessions, and at times rushing through the module. This is understandable given their multiple job tasks and competing demands and desires. The participants came with widely varying inclinations to become engaged, yet the fact that nearly all rated their engagement as high in one or more sections attests to their desires to learn once within the situation. The study suggests that engagement is due to a clear interplay between the learner, the content, and the instructional design, and that none of these can be considered less important when delivering instruction. Even though one treatment of the module offered strong opportunities for engagement with numerous scenarios and exercises, engagement did not always occur. And even though the other treatment removed these opportunities, engagement proved equally likely. Achieving high learning engagement, like achieving learning itself, is a more complex task than simple formulas and best intentions can ensure. However, engagement as a quality of experience proved researchable and even, to a degree, measurable, and not quite as elusive as might have been assumed. The research participants discussed engagement and rated their engagement quite easily, even though it had many faces and factors contributing to it. This demonstrates that it is an important facet of learning for them. Even though the study did not attempt to

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control factors influencing engagement to high degree, the resulting list of instructional qualities that appeared to increase engagement closely corresponds to variables previously shown in the results of experimental research to impact situational interest (Schraw & Lehman, 2001). Engagement was shown to be closely linked to perceived learning, particularly in the qualitative data, proving the strong links between affect and cognition posed earlier in the paper. The link is likely bi-directionalengagement facilitates learning, and feelings of success in learning enhance engagement. This finding is consistent with the complex relationships between affect, goals, motivation, and learning indicated in prior research (Anderman & Wolters, 2006). The wide variety and inconsistency of engagement responses to the module indicate that engagement is highly individualized. But the overall moderate engagement levels and consistent expressions of frustration about some aspects of the content support the need for traditional approaches to instructional systems design, particularly the importance of learner analysis, needs analysis, and formative evaluation. The desire to push learners to a higher level of competence should be done with care and caution or disengagement is risked, and learning is jeopardized. The richness of the data collected points to the potential of further studies of this kind, perhaps including attention to additional qualities of learning experience. This study was an initial attempt to discover qualities of engagement in learning experiences and factors that lead to it. The number of participants was small and representative of only one part of the learner population using materials produced by The COMET Program, and so of course not representative of learners in other environments and professions. Also, the study did not fully examine the systemic nature of engagement in learning experiences; the primary focus was on the learner and the instructional materials. It did not fully probe the attitudes and goals of learners before they came to the instruction, nor did it look for longitudinal effects. This is an important gap, given that experience has both immediate qualities and qualities constructed over time based on reflection and input from follow-on experiences. The study chose to focus only on the immediate experience, and did not attempt to discover how perceptions of the learning experience may have changed afterwards. Likewise, the influences of the learning context were explored to only a small degree. The scope of the domain of learning experience suggests that even broader mixed-methods research would be useful, including case studies that apply a variety of qualitative approaches to examine individual experiences, instructional design variables, and cultural factors. Engagement is likely a critical quality of any learning experience. It can be seen not only as the best indicator of the potential for deep learning and other positive outcomes, but as the medium of learning itself. Only when engaged do learners open themselves up to new ideas and potentials; only when learners current knowledge is challenged and they are enticed to engage with that challenge will instruction have its

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highest impact. If engagement is indeed the medium, then it likely manifests itself in as many ways as learning takes place. Engagement may appear differently depending on instructional content and instructional strategy, and depending even more on the learners orientation and relationship to the instructor and situation. While it does not appear to be an elusive quality to study, it remains complex, somewhat mysterious, and fragile, and a difficult phenomenon for instructional designers to influence with certainty.

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CHAPTER 7 AESTHETIC PRINCIPLES FOR INSTRUCTIONAL DESIGN Abstract This article offers principles that contribute to developing the aesthetics of instructional design. Rather than describing merely the surface qualities of things and events, the concept of aesthetics as applied here pertains to heightened experience. Aesthetic experiences are those that are immersive, infused with meaning, and felt as coherent and complete. Any transformative learning experience will have significant aesthetic qualities, and all instructional situations can benefit from attention to these qualities. Drawn from aesthetics theory and research and informed by current ID and learning theories, a set of five first principles and twelve guidelines for their application are described. The principles are not only compatible with existing ID theory bases but can complement and support that theory by offering ways to embody it in engaging learning experiences. Introduction Recent years have seen a surge of interest in reclaiming the idea that instructional design (ID) is indeed a design discipline and more than just science or just technology (Bolling, 2003; Gibbons, 2003b; Rowland, 1999; Wilson, 2004). In the spirit of this view of ID as design, this article offers principles intended to contribute to developing the aesthetics of instructional design (Parrish, 2005). By broadening their concerns beyond immediate learning outcomes and considering all the qualities of designed experiences, instructional designers can create designs that have deep and lasting impacts for learners. The aesthetic qualities of learning experiences, in particular, offer a potent dimension through which to expand learning impacts. In offering new ID principles, one must be sensitive to the potentially overwhelming pluralism of influences and competing theories that already exist, which can lead to frustration or to retreat into a comfortably narrow set of guidelines. For this reason, it is imperative, when possible, to show compatibility between aesthetic principles and existing ID theory. But aesthetic principles offer more than just compatibility with existing theorythey complement and can support that theory by offering ways to embody it in engaging learning experiences. The principles described

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in this article extend our conception of what is entailed in designing an effective learning experience, while also honoring other perspectives. The article first makes a case for the value of considering the aesthetics of learning experiences. Then it offers a set of aesthetic first principles, followed by guidelines for their application. The term first principles is used to suggest that the principles are productive for deriving a wide range of guidelines for learning activities and can be applied in any instructional situation. The use of the term is in part an homage to Merrills prescriptive first principles of instruction (2002), which he derived as fundamental to good instruction after comparing a wide set of valued instructional theories with traditional sources. The aesthetic principles offered here are not prescriptive in the sense that every case of good instruction requires demonstration of each of them; nor are they axiomatic and timeless, even if they strive for that status. They necessarily reflect current conceptions of what makes good art and good instruction. Neither is the list offered here in any way comprehensive or representative of the full range of aesthetic first principles that might be found on further investigation. Considering Learning Experience Three traditional components of the instructional environment vie for the attention of teachers and instructional designerssubject matter, instructional methodology, and the learner. Instructional designers often broaden this traditional view by including the instructor (or instructional designer) and the instructional context to describe the complete instructional system. However, a more holistic approach would also include the idea of learning experience. Learning experience describes the transaction that takes place between individual learners and the instructional environment. In addition to the components listed above, learning experience includes the way that the learner feels about, engages with, responds to, influences, and draws from the instructional situation (See Figure 7.1.).

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Figure 7.1: Components of instructional environments. Learning experience is different for each learner, depending on the connection made to the other components of the situation and depending on what the learner brings to the situation and draws from it for future situations. Experience in this sense describes more than a passive event. It is a transaction with the environment in which learning is an outcome (witness the saying, experience is the best teacher). The word experience is rooted in the same Indo-European words as experiment and peril. Meaningful experiences contain qualities suggested in each of these terms. Viewing learning as experience broadens the concerns of instructional designers because it necessitates consideration of the quality of that experience and not just its goals and mechanics. For example, this viewpoint raises learner engagement in status: only when learners consider the experience worth attending to and reflecting upon will the transaction of experience have its full impact. Learning experiences have many qualities, including cognitive ones of course. But they also have emotional, social, cultural, political, and aesthetic qualities (Wilson, 2005). All these come into play in determining the immediate qualities and enduring meaning of an experience. Aesthetic qualities include the rhythms of instructional activities; methods for creating intellectual and emotional tension and revealing unity within content sequences; strategies for providing memorable closure to learning

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experiences; and the sensory impact of classrooms, computer interfaces, and texts. But these immediate qualities are not attended to simply for their immediate rewardsthey are designed to lend the experience lasting resonance. An instrumental view of learning may consider only the immediately measurable outcomes of a learning experience, particularly its impacts on cognition, behavior, or performance. But a more inclusive view, one that values a growing capacity and willingness to engage with and learn from the world, considers the continuity of experiences (Dewey, 1916) and is concerned with how the quality of an experience impacts the meaning we attribute to it. A meaningful experience leads us to engage fruitfully not only in the immediate situation but in the future experiences to which it points. The Importance of Aesthetic Experience The word aesthetics is often used narrowly to describe the sensual qualities of an object or designed experience. But from a Pragmatist viewpoint, aesthetics describes a category of experience. Aesthetic experiences are heightened, immersive, and particularly meaningful ones (Dewey, 1934/1989). They stand out as complete in and of themselves and as providing an immediately felt impact. Aesthetic experience is most often linked to our engagement with works of art because art is expressly designed to stimulate it. But it can develop when we are engaged in any activity, including experiences as diverse as learning to hit a baseball, creating or viewing a painting, decoding the human genome sequence, enjoying a good mystery novel, or having a meaningful conversation. Each of these experiences is marked by focused intent to resolve an indeterminate situation and becomes aesthetic when we are deeply invested in the effort. Aesthetic experiences are important to us because they demonstrate the expressive power of life (Alexander, 1998). They reveal the depth of meaning life can hold and suggest how we can use our powers to discover and create that meaning. These rewards are why we seek out aesthetic experiences, why we attach monetary value to them, and why we struggle to achieve them. The opposites of aesthetic experience are boredom; mindless routine; scattered, dispersed activity; or meaningless, imposed labor. Unaesthetic (or, in the extreme, anesthetic) experiences like these are unlikely to deepen our capabilities, show us meaning, or move us to engage with life. In contrast, during an aesthetic experience, we sense (at times subconsciously) an impending consummation through revealed meaning or fruitful outcome. Aesthetic experience is marked by emotionally charged anticipation, deep engagement, and willingness to follow through to completion. Because these are optimal conditions for learning, we want learners to have aesthetic experience in the instructional situations we create. Sources of Aesthetic Principles

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Sources of principles for designing aesthetic learning experiences become apparent when we consider the affinities between making art and designing instruction. John Dewey asks us to reject the museum conception of art when he tells us that works of art are merely refined and intensified forms of experience (1934/1989) and not distinct in quality from many everyday experiences. Works of art stimulate growth by challenging us to see the world freshly, to become open and responsive to possibilities in the world around usa particularly important precondition to learning. Instructional designers are also in the business of creating refined and intensified forms of experience, even if we typically avoid talking about their aesthetic qualities (Parrish, 2005). While instruction is not art in its narrow sense, the distinction is more accidental than essential when instruction strives to stimulate heightened, reflective experiences. Due to this affinity, ID can enhance its own aesthetic status by drawing useful guidance from what has been learned in the realm of the arts. The aesthetic principles offered in this paper are drawn from multiple sources. The arts provide a rich source of strategies for achieving aesthetic experience, so they are the first source. The principles discussed here draw heavily from Aristotles Poetics, probably the most influential historical source of aesthetic principles and one that continues to inform artists and designers to this day (Laurel, 1993; Tierno, 2002). Secondly, although John Dewey and his Pragmatist approach to aesthetics (Dewey, 1934/1989) offer no systematic aesthetic principles, Deweys description of aesthetic experience suggests several guiding principles. A third source of principles is research into the aesthetic decisions of instructional designers and teachers made while considering the experience of their learners (Parrish, 2004). Finally, the choice of principles is informed by current learning and instructional theory. Most aesthetic principles have parallels in information-processing, constructivist, and social learning theories because aesthetic experience, in fact, underlies all efforts to find or create meaning. However, these parallels are rarely explored in any coherent way, nor do instructional designers seek the full potential of aesthetics as a resource for theory and practice. In the following sections each aesthetic principle and guideline is connected to relevant learning and ID theory. Using an aesthetic lens can expand the utility of this theory, allowing it to reach into instructional designs through new avenues. Each principle is discussed only briefly, and all require further research to determine the ways in which they are and are not applied successfully in practice. First Principles This section offers four aesthetic first principles for creating artful instruction. A final, fifth principle is saved for discussion in a subsequent section of the article. Not coincidently, the four principles discussed here correspond to the common concerns of literary criticismplot, character, theme, and context (which encompasses

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such qualities as setting, tone, and frame). Literary criticism is not the only useful source of aesthetic principles for instructional design; but the focus literature and drama place on human activity, human growth, and temporal structureand the central role of narrative in our creation of meaning (Bruner, 1990)make it an especially rich source. However, plot, character, theme, and setting also have formal parallels in the visual arts and music; in fact, whether a work of art takes the form of painting, sculpture, architecture, drama, dance, film, or music, our experience of it has narrative qualities. This narrative always follows a pattern of inquiry in which we perceive the object or situation and over time, through engagement with it, come to sense its meaning or unity. Overall, plot, character, theme, and setting provide a useful framework for discussing aesthetic learning principles because they correspond to the instructional components discussed previouslymethodology, learner, subject matter, and context. Principle 1: Learning Experiences Have Beginnings, Middles, and Endings (i.e., plots). Instructional design theory frequently offers principles for instructional sequences (e.g., Gagn & Briggs, 1979; Merrill, 2002; Reigeluth, 1999). Among these are many that propose narrative-like sequences that arise from the pattern of problem information seekingsolution generationresolution that occurs in inquiry-based approaches to instruction (e.g., Jonassen, 1999; Schank, 1990). However, there is more we can do in our designs to attend to the unique needs and potentials of the three basic phases of aesthetic experiencesbeginning, middle, and endas articulated by Aristotle in describing drama and poetry (Aristotle, trans. 1984). Learners have different thoughts and feelings when they first become engaged, when the pattern of the instruction becomes evident and accepted (or resisted), and when learning is approaching its culmination. For example, beginnings call for creating tension or mystery and developing trust that the tension can be resolved, middles often call for continued renewal of the initial engagement and reinforcement of the potential for consummation, and endings call for both an emotional intensity that heightens the experience and a chance for reflection that connects everything that has come before into logical and organic unity. If we pay attention to the needs, thoughts, and feelings of learners in each of these phasesand anticipate them in our instructional designs we have a better chance to create an aesthetic learning experience. Principle 2: Learners Are the Protagonists of Their Own Learning Experiences. In traditional education, the subject matter, or at times the instructor, is the lead character. But from the perspective of learning experience, the protagonist is always the learner. In works of art, we vicariously experience the events along with a protagonist and are led to a similar revelation. But learning experience is never vicarious. Even though learners might be motivated by the desire to understand the struggles and

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achievements of others, a learners primary experience is his or her own struggles and achievements in learning. Even within the same instructional situation, learners have different learning experiences depending on how they view their relationship to the situation. Some might take a tragic perspective and see themselves as oppressed protagonists saddled with the tragic flaw of ignorance (or laziness, insufficient intelligence, etc.) and struggling to overcome their inadequacies to succeed in the course. Alternatively, some may see the experience as comedyas a series of embarrassing episodes in which their ignorance places them in difficult, but reconcilable, situations. Others might see their role as heroic, with the course taking on epic proportions as they confront one difficult labor or obstacle after another to emerge as more admirable people. Whatever the choice of roles, learning is always a perilous undertakingone in which the learner voluntarily enters a situation that challenges current beliefs and concepts. It might be important to get students to realize the protagonist they have chosen to play and to use those choices to guide instructional decisions that will provide the proper motivation and sense of accomplishment. Instruction might also be used to guide learners to the more productive orientations (i.e., comedic or heroic). Within the literature on personal learning styles and their implications for instructional design, the work of Martinez (2002) is among those that best approximate the concern with learning experience discussed here. The literary analogies offered here can be seen as expanding upon Martinez category of the transforming learnerthe learner who seeks significant personal change from learningand as offering guidance for making design decisions that might support learners of that type. Aesthetic designs may even encourage learners of other types to adopt the transforming orientation. Principle 3: Learning Activity, Not Subject Matter, Establishes the Theme of Instruction. Like every work of art, every learning experience has an underlying theme. In art, an effective theme is tangible and immediate and cannot be captured fully in a single abstract word like love or justice. Neither is an instructional theme as broad as anthropology or computer science useful or effective. Instead, a theme is more like an action-idea (Tierno, 2002), an embodiment of the cause-and-effect relationship that arises from the fundamental premise (idea or point) of the story (Egri, 1942). For example, the premise to Macbeth is not ambition or corruption but something more like Ruthless ambition leads to corruption and self-destruction. In turn, the action-idea that arises from this premise might be stated as, Macbeth, driven by ambition to assume the throne, engages in a sequence of murders that lead to his eventual downfall. In other words, the theme, or action-idea, is not just a statement of the premise but also a summary of how the work embodies that premise. Works of art

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in which the premise is too directly stated, and in which the embodying action-idea is secondary, do not feel genuine. They feel strained. An instructional theme is often manifested as a generative goal (the learner is to solve a problem, complete a project, perform a series of experiments, etc.). Goal-based scenarios (Schank, Berman, & Macpherson, 1999) and problem-based learning (Dunlap, 2005; Savery & Duffy, 1996) are instructional design approaches that embody this concept of theme. Both approaches assume that learning happens best when couched in a coherent activity, just as an effective narrative is driven by a coherent action-idea. Subject matter alone is an insufficient basis for instruction. However, subject matter couched in an action-idea creates the potential for aesthetic experience by turning it into tangible activity. Rather than identifying the topic anthropology or even the premise that Systematic study of culture can discern patterns that allow us to appreciate similarities and differences between cultures as an instructional theme, more useful would be to identify theme with the learning activity, After engaging in systematic study of several exotic cultures, the learner uses this systematic method as a tool for studying more familiar cultures. In other words, the activity of the course is evident from the start, not merely layered onto the topical agenda. Hollywood producers are infamous for requiring that a proposed film project be summed up in a one- or two-sentence pitch. Aristotle supports this approach as well, telling artists that they should be able to frame the work such that even hearing a summary of it elicits a strong emotional response (Aristotle, trans. 1984). Stating the theme of a course doesnt necessarily stimulate learning, but it should describe the experience that will, thus enticing a learner to take part. Principle 4: Context Contributes to Immersion in the Instructional Situation. Context is a catch-all category that describes many components of an instructional situation. Context can be given or created, so consideration of context has a dual naturethe need to accommodate the many given contextual qualities of a situation in an instructional design (Tessmer & Richey, 1997) and the possibility to create aspects of the instructional context to support instructional goals. However, whether one accommodates or creates it, context must contribute to the cohesiveness of the learning experience by reinforcing all its components. Because art is also about experience, cohesiveness plays a similarly critical role. The many elements of any artwork of qualitywhether color, texture, tone, tempo, site, lighting, mood, or voiceare either purposefully controlled or creatively appropriated by the artist to make the experience immersive. Even if they seem subordinate or accidental to an uncritical eye, these elements are not random. No architect designs a building in a vacuum. Drawings and scale models nearly always include the site, showing its natural and man-made elements and illustrating the impact of a buildings setting on its final effectiveness. To determine impacts on user

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experience, architectural computer models simulate seasonal changes in lighting and the effects of the building on wind patterns. Similarly, a writer uses the details of setting to evoke mood (the darkness of winter might deepen a sense of isolation); to establish character (the decor in protagonists bedroom can reveal character more truthfully than narration); and even to advance the plot (terrain might complicate movement to heighten tension during a critical sequence). The literature of instructional design has shown concern with context as given conditions that must be accommodated (Tessmer & Richey, 1997), but additional insight can be gained from exploring ways to create context to enhance learning. Instructional context can include application of a frame to set off a portion of the learning experience as a world in which students assume alternate identities (often those of experts) to enact scenarios that allow the application of learning. Frames can be subtle, such as the shift in language when the instructor refers to learners as practitioners to encourage adoption of professional behaviors (Parrish, 2004), or quite elaborate, marking off educational dramas and role-playing activities (Anderson, 2004). Framed scenarios are a form of legitimate peripheral participation (Lave & Wenger, 1991) in which learners can practice developing skills in non-threatening situations that approximate those of the real world (e.g., Schank et al., 1999). The success of scenarios in instruction may depend greatly on careful manipulation of context, including establishment of the frame, to create the alternative world and to encourage immersion and genuine participation. Instructional designers might learn strategies from artists for doing so. Finally, from the perspective of an ecological theory of knowing, context becomes perhaps the primary consideration in designing instruction (Barab & Roth, 2006). From this perspective, learning is stimulated during participation within rich contexts, ones tailored sufficiently to provide all the affordances necessary to facilitate meaningful participation in the instructional context yet open enough to suggest generalities applicable to other contexts (solving the transfer problem). This challenge is not dissimilar to the one faced by writers of fiction, who must exercise rhetorical control in providing sufficient and consistent details to create immersive fictional worlds that also connect to the worlds inhabited by readers. Guidelines for Applying the First Principles If the status of first principles claimed for the preceding principles is deserved, the list of guidelines offered below could grow much longer. However, this brief initial set provides a basis for further thought and research and indicates the breadth of possible guidelines that might emerge. Principle 1: Learning Experiences Have Beginnings, Middles, and Endings (i.e., Plots).

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1.1: Begin by instilling tension, posing a problem, or pointing out conflicting information. To become engaged, a learner has to have a felt need to do so. This need is frequently satisfied by creating a problematic situation, but it doesnt have to be a problem in the traditional sense. Works of art frequently begin by establishing normalcya recognizable and acceptable situation or a harmonious patternand then introduce conflict that violates this normalcy (Bruner, 2002). The conflict introduces the need for reconciliation and instigates engagement to see the conflict resolved. The conflict in narratives often involves thrusting likeable, recognizable characters into threatening situations. In music conflict involves pitting contrasting keys against one another. In the visual arts, it might be the use of dynamic composition (discomforting diagonals or curiosity-generating imbalance) or the surrealist tactic of placing everyday objects in surprising juxtapositions. To generate tension, instructional situations might begin with conflicting ideas or theories. For example, an instructor might pose or elicit a commonsense mental model and then offer conflicting evidence, in effect entrapping the learner and stimulating engagement through cognitive dissonance (Collins & Stevens, 1983). Instruction also might be centered on a realistic problem, as is done in problem-based or case-based learning (Kolodner & Guzdial, 2000; Savery & Duffy, 1996). There are myriad ways to impose conflict in instruction, and any one of them will be better than merely beginning with a description of subject matter. Aristotle describes this aesthetic strategy as setting up the complication. Everything that follows is the denouement, or the working out (or untying) of the complication (Aristotle, trans. 1984). The majority of an instructional event should feel like denouement (actively working through the action-idea or theme), but this can happen only with a rich complication to set it in motion. 1.2: Learning experiences should create anticipation of consummation. Successful beginnings also require anticipation, and the anticipated end of the denouement is consummationthe rewarding feeling that the experience hangs together and demonstrates unity. In instruction, consummation involves achieving the key objectives and ,perhaps more importantly, seeing how they fit together and toward what coherent end they were chosen in the first place. The end should require struggle but it must also be achievable. The end should be pointed to or hinted from the start, but not just handed over to the learner. Maintaining anticipation throughout the denouement requires establishing trust, which can be achieved by providing interim rewards of consummation for small-scale tensions. Reigeluth (1999) proposes the use of an elaboration structure to provide a holistic picture of the instructional content from

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the start, potential for interim learning successes within each elaboration, and a constant reminder of the potential for consummation to be achieved through the entire instructional sequence. In lesser works of art, where tensions are frequently resolved without moving the plot forward (e.g., a cat is responsible for the eerie noise, a dangerous situation turns out to be a dream), we quickly lose trust and disengage. Or perhaps we decide to play along for the thrills, but without deep engagement. Similarly, interim rewards in instruction must also be meaningful, not forced or extrinsic, and contribute to the whole of the course or module by pointing to the potential consummation. 1.3: Create sustained suspense by enhancing the complication. This guideline suggests an alternative approach to the problem of cognitive load (Morrison & Anglin, 2005; van Merrinboer & Ayres, 2005). Early research in the application of cognitive-load theory proposed reducing instructional complexity by limiting specificity of goals, providing worked examples rather than problems, and avoiding split attention (Sweller & Chandler, 1991). While these cognitive-load principles are not necessarily unaesthetic, they can be counter to building tension and anticipation. Engagement is built on more than a sustained feeling of achievement and maintained focus at the expense of challenge. It requires continual struggle and expectation. The middle or second act of dramatic works is often considered the most difficult (Hunter, 1993). In the second act the deeper complexity of the plot is revealed, but the luxury of novelty has worn off. Complicating events must be new, but they cant violate the setting and character already established. Otherwise, trust is in danger. The middle movements in music and films are often quiet and thoughtful, revealing depth and providing a respite before a more boisterous ending. In instructional situations, the second act is when the work of teaching and learning can begin to feel like work. Student engagement needs to be reinforced continually to avoid having the learning situation become boring and routine. Carefully introducing new tensions, surprises, and increasing complication is one way to achieve engagement. This approach to engagement is used in the AMIGO3 project (The PT3 Group at Vanderbilt, 2003), which applies a course structure composed entirely of a series of challenges inquiry-based modules that replace the content presentation-centered structures of traditional instructional approaches. 1.4: Pattern, routine, or an established motif can sustain engagement. Motif is a critical component of nearly every work of art. In music and narrative arts, repetition reminds us that the piece is of a whole; motif provides a comfortable and familiar stop along the journey. Motif also provides a yardstick to reveal how

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things are changing or how they are connected: when a motif recurs in different contexts, we are being asked to compare those contexts. Pattern performs a similar function, providing a ground on which new forms can stand out but at the same time preventing chaos. Without pattern, novelty would lose its novelty; chaos would dissolve the integrity of the experience. Middle phases of instruction might require a degree of pattern or routine to maintain a level of comfort to mitigate the stress of necessary workeven if that pattern involves a series of tension-generating problem cycles. This approach is used in the AMIGO3 project (The PT3 Group at Vanderbilt, 2003), in which sequences of repeated challenges introduce pattern without sacrificing tension. Bringing in motifs from early in the instruction in the form of repeated examples, ideas, or theories also provides an anchor for new learning to take place and helps to show how the instruction fits together. The elaboration theory of instruction (Reigeluth, 1999), in which an instructional epitome functions as a central motif that unifies the individual episodes of instruction, applies this tactic. For example, in an anthropology course an epitome for the course might be a definition of culture agreed upon by the class in an opening discussion, and returned to repeatedly as the concept of culture is expanded. Elaboration theory uses a zoom-lens analogy to recommend continued reference to higher level elaborations or the epitome (zooming out) to supply an anchor for new learning and to instill a holistic understanding of the instructional content. 1.5: Endings should integrate everything that has occurred up to that point. We want an ending to be more than a stopping point; we want it to be the culmination and consummation of all activity that led to it (Dewey, 1934/1989). Consummation is what makes an experience meaningful and not merely a sequence of disconnected events. Without consummation, the experience is not aesthetic. The ending of a narrative needs to tie up loose ends, not introduce new onesunless of course the presence of loose ends drives the theme of the work and constitutes the appropriate culmination. The ending needs to justify the effort it takes to engage from start to finish, and it does this by unifying the work. The ending of an instructional event shouldnt consist simply of completing the last section or mastering the last objective; it should include activity that subsumes everything learned to that point. It should also provide a backward glance that brings the entire learning experience into focus. The ending should also be an exhilarating phase, like the final movement of a symphony. It might occur in a fluster of activity completing a final project or paper or preparing for a culminating exam. However it occurs, it should mark the experience with heightened emotion that enhances engagement and encourages follow-on reflection, even if deep involvement makes concurrent reflection unlikely (Reed, Shallert, & Deithloff, 2002).

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Dunlap (2005) discusses research on the impact of an immersive, problembased capstone course as the culmination to student experience within a degree program in software development. Students saw their capstone projects not only as difficult challenges but also as one of the most fulfilling and rich learning experiences in their program. This research demonstrates the benefit of considering aesthetic experience not only at the course and module level but also at the curriculum level. Principle 2: Learners Are the Protagonists of Their Own Learning Experience. 2.1: Accept that learners, as protagonists, are fully human. Good dramatic characters are realistic (Aristotle, trans. 1984). They have flaws, goals, desires, basic needs, senses, and an individual brand of rational thought. If they didnt, we wouldnt relate to them strongly; their drama would hold little meaning for us. Because learners are the protagonists in their learning experiences, they should be allowed to express their individuality without it seeming to detract from a predetermined plan of action. By definition, learning is a form of change; but it always has the current self as starting point. If learners cant begin a learning experience by being themselves, the experience is unlikely to be genuine or aesthetic. Many researchers and theorists have pointed to the value of recognizing varying learning styles, motivations, or intelligences and allowing individual learners to use their styles and motivations to achieve their best (e.g., Gardner, 1999; Hiemstra, 1997; Martinez, 2002). Furthermore, learners might not change beliefs without first being reminded of their current concepts and beliefs and being shown their potential inadequacy in new situations (Collins & Stevens, 1983; Jonassen, 1999; Schank et al., 1999). Aristotle tells us that plot, and not character, is central to drama. He reminds us that the collected events in the life of a single protagonist are insufficient material for good drama if those events dont themselves form a coherent narrative (Aristotle, trans. 1984). However, while plot is primary, plot must arise from character and not merely be imposed on characters. By extension, in instructional settings the realities of learners should also influence what is taught during instruction, even though direction is always provided by an instructor or designer to ensure coherence. Learner-centered approaches that include opportunities for establishing personal learning goals, choosing approaches and pacing for learning activities, and sharing personal experiences are part of the solution to supporting aesthetic learning experiences, just as they are for supporting knowledge construction (Jonassen, 1999). 2.2: Allow dialogue to reveal character.

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Inexperienced fiction writers generally exhibit the weakness of using excessive description rather than letting dialogue and action reveal character (Ray, 1994). Similarly, if learner-centered instruction and the need for learners to reveal themselves are valued, dialogue can be a significant instructional tool. Most constructivist approaches call for a high degree of conversation in learning, not only to force learners to reflect and articulate their reasoning (Jonassen, 1999) but also to encourage collaborative knowledge construction (Bielaczyc & Collins, 1999; Nelson, 1999). Just as dialogue is central to revealing psychological conflict in narratives, dialogue is important in revealing learners beliefs, both to themselves and to others. When these articulated beliefs trigger epistemological conflicts, either internally or among fellow learners and the instructor, learning opportunities arise. 2.3: Foster a change or growth in sense of identity; make learning a rite of passage. Like good instruction, successful art stimulates a change that leads to growth. It depicts the change in a protagonist or encourages a viewers own change of perception, belief, or emotional disposition. To make learning a deeply felt experience, we can stimulate a learners identification as protagonist and encourage him or her to view learning as change or growth in identity. To a degree, this encouragement can be achieved through the language used in talking with learnersparticularly through changes in language over the course of the instruction as learners become less like novices and more like practitioners or cognoscenti (Parrish, 2004). Teachers and designers can include discussion of what it means to be knowledgeable and what can be done as a consequence of becoming knowledgeable, demonstrating and providing practice in exercising the habits of mind that distinguish a community of practice (Lave & Wenger, 1991). In addition, the ending phase of instruction can include rite of passage activitiesincluding awards, shifting roles (for example, learner as teacher while making a final class presentation), or a celebration of graduation. Capstone courses involving actual or realistic practitioner projects or demonstrating academic growth through original inquiry are a way of eliciting and celebrating the change in identity that is often a desired outcome of a curriculum of study (Dunlap, 2005). Principle 3: Learning Activity, Not Subject Matter, Establishes the Theme of Instruction. 3.1: Theme and plot arise from subject matter but should be more than subject matter. Subject matter should be the arbiter for deciding what learning activities are possible and useful. Aesthetic qualities should not be used simply to spruce up instruction, nor should instructional theories be allowed to smother content with

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methodology. Sources of aesthetic tension and consummation, and sources of instructional methods in general, should arise from problems and issues emerging from the subject matter and not be imposed arbitrarily. Just as the theme of a narrative is embedded in a tangible complication, problems at the center of inquiry-learning approaches require authenticity. If they are not directly related to everyday concerns, professional practice, or acknowledged domain issues, learning problems will insufficiently engage learners (Lave & Wenger, 1991). In the arts, even when fictional narratives include fantastical settings and action, they are grounded in authentic human challenges, emotions, and values. 3.2: The theme should be believable and connect to experience. Just as plot, theme, and character should align in a narrative, the alignment or unity required between subject matter and learning activity (theme) and methodology (plot) must extend to the learner (character). Subject matter should not require an excessive leap of faith. The subject matter might be well-trod ground for instructors, but it is typically quite foreign to learners. Subject matter represents the culmination of a history of research within a domain of knowledge, and it cant simply be handed to learners for their consumption. If learning arises from experience, learners need to engage in experiences within a domain of knowledge like the researchers, theorists, and practitioners who created it (Dewey, 1916). Simply starting with subject matter is not enough. The premise of a course should be something students can currently understand. The theme should describe how they can get from where they are, through activities, to a higher level of knowledge and ability to use the subject matter, not simply to recall it. But how learners achieve this end must also be related to intentions that they themselves possess (Jonassen & Land, 2000). Principle 4: Context Contributes to Immersion in the Instructional Situation. 4.1: Allow context to support theme and character. The importance of context or setting is recognized by all writers of fiction. Dramatists sometimes refer to context as stage setup, which includes elements such as time, place, lighting, season, and props (Ray, 1994). The clichd setting of a dark and stormy night used in melodrama demonstrates a lack of originality, but it became clich because it establishes an appropriate emotional context for the drama about to unfold. Setting often serves more practical purposes as well, as when props provide the means for characters to carry out critical actions or demonstrate important psychological traits.

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Most teachers recognize the importance of instructional contexts, and they will often fill their classrooms with items that stimulate thought about subject matter and create immersion in a world that supports activities for learning. Images, posters, manipulatives, books, magazines, and tools can be prominent components of a classroom that reveals the world of a discipline and helps students develop a deeper relationship with it. Computer interfaces and printed materials can use thematic motifs to support immersion as well. Seating arrangements and communication tools also provide social context and promote desired ways of thinking about the learning situation. Schedules, lengths of learning episodes, and times of day for meetings also color the learning experience. Additionally, allowing learners to collaborate in building and adding items to the context enhances their ownership and allows them to express their characters. Tessmer and Richey (1997) outline an even broader set of contextual factors that can support or inhibit learning according to how they are accommodated or controlled in creating a cohesive learning environment. In addition to the qualities of the immediate environment, these factors include learner perceptions about the instructional situation and cultural or organizational factors such as incentives and supports. 4.2: Honor setting in instruction. A work of art must acknowledge and honor its setting or risk irrelevance. An architect is extremely careful in adapting any newly designed structure to fit within its given setting. He or she knows that failing to do so can thwart the intended aesthetic (and practical) experience, while doing so acknowledges the larger experience of which the new structure will be only one part. A writer honors the setting of a narrative by providing rich details to readers to help create an authentic and, therefore, inhabitable context. For landscape painters, setting itself becomes subject matter, not just context. Even though it is important to frame the instructional experience as unique, instructors and designers should also honor setting or place, i.e., the environment beyond the immediate instructional context. Learners are intricately connected to their natural, social, and cultural contexts in ways that make place a central component of their identity and belief systems. Integration with place is a critical component in their ability to flourish as human beings (Gruenewald, 2003). Place can become an important factor in instruction when activities are derived from and connected to it. Problems can be centered on place-based concerns; learning activities can include having students go into the local natural or social environment to engage in research and application projects; and themes, examples, and information resources can be drawn from the local setting. Engaging with the local setting allows learners to experience the complexity of environments in a way that cant happen when reading or discussing foreign or remote environments. A strong connection to place can make learning experiences rich, multilayered, and potentially aesthetic because they are immediate.

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The Instructor as Author and Character The instructor or instructional designer plays a complex set of roles in an instructional situation. When orchestrating the content and methodology, the designer is similar to the author of a work of art. But if the learning experience is to be fully aesthetic, the learner should share responsibility for authoring the experience and the instructors role must take on other dimensions. This leads to a final first principle, which is explored in this section. Principle 5: Instructors and Instructional Designers Are Authors, Supporting Characters, and Model Protagonists, An instructor, and even an instructional designer, does much more than orchestrate the other components of the learning environment. He or she is an active contributor, just as much as any other component. The instructor or designer is also a key character in the experience. While not typically the protagonist, the instructor sometimes acts in a role similar to that of the Greek chorus, commenting on the dramatic developments from a privileged standpoint. At other times the instructor functions as a companion character who is confidant to the protagonist and who might also act as provocateur or mirror, as Sam does during Frodos quest in The Lord of the Rings trilogy (Tolkien, 1955). The instructor can also play the role of wizened guide one who knows the perils that lurk down each learning path and, while unable to prevent the learner from having to take that path, can provide tools and magical objects to help along the way (Campbell, 1968). But instructors and designers also have important roles as experienced learners, or model protagonists. Instructors should reveal their own personal experiences in finding approaches to the subject matter. They should share what it is that motivates their own practice or that led them to their chosen field of knowledge. They should share what perplexes them still, what frustrates them and angers them about the field. They should share regrets. Instructional designers should mine for these motivations, frustrations, and regrets from their subject matter experts and not be lulled into recounting only summarized expert knowledge. They should also be highly conscious of their own difficulties in engaging the subject matter and use this consciousness in their design decisions. Instructors and designers must bring their imaginations and empathy to the experience as well, empathizing with learners to understand how the experience is likely perceived from their point of view. For instructional designers, who are typically removed from the learning experience, this use of imagination is particularly critical (Parrish, 2006a). Finally, instructors and designers must to a degree be in love with their subject matter and the process of learning it and be willing to reveal their feelings about it. If

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they arent themselves excited about what they are teaching and dont express that excitement to their learners, how can learners be expected to become fully engaged? An audience can tell when an artist is holding back and not baring her soul in the work of art. We come to expect that in great works of art the artist will reveal truths that are drawn deeply from her own life experiences. Learners should expect the same. Conclusion One purpose of this article has been to demonstrate that aesthetic considerations in teaching and instructional design include much more than providing an attractive frame or surface to instructional events. On the contrary, aesthetic principles can guide instructional design in all of its many levels and layers (Gibbons, 2003a). In fact, the principles have as much to say about the what as the how of instruction. They show strong connections to valued instructional theories derived from traditional sources, such as cognitive psychology, situated and constructivist learning theories, and even behaviorism. These relationships, summarized in Table 1, should not be unexpected, given that both aesthetic experience and instruction are about constructing meaning. Aesthetic experience describes a particularly heightened form of engagement with the world, a form of inquiry that does not limit itself to scientific or technological constraints but instead takes a holistic account of the world and ourselves. Like all forms of inquiry, it is about creating meaning from experience that can improve or expand our approaches to future experience. This quality suggests that aesthetic experience is bound up in any significant, transformative learning experience and is also a potential outcome of less ambitious learning goals. Further exploration of aesthetic principles, including further investigation into how they are exercised within the arts and instruction in parallel ways, can broaden our understanding of how people learn and how instructors can guide their learning. Aesthetic approaches to instructional design do not make the difficult problems of instruction any simpler; but they can help us embrace those problems in all their richness rather than encouraging us to oversimplify and, perhaps, misjudge them. Table 7.1 Connecting Aesthetic Principles to Learning and ID Theory _____________________________________________________________________ Principle Related Theories and Models _____________________________________________________________________ Principle 1: Learning Experiences Have Beginnings, Middles, and Endings Inquiry learning Problem-based learning Problemcentered learning

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Project-based learning Goal-based scenarios Elaboration theory Principle 2: Learners Are the Protagonists of Their Own Learning Experiences Constructivist learning Learning styles Instructional role-playing Dialogical learning Collaborative learning Constructivist learning Situated learning Communities of practice Project-based learning Activity theory Context analysis Ecological psychology Learning environments Instructional role-plays Scenario-based learning Place-centered learning Legitimate peripheral participation

Principle 3: Learning Activity, Not Subject Matter, Establishes the Theme of Instruction

Principle 4: Context Contributes to Immersion in the Instructional Situation

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CHAPTER 8 DESIGN AS STORYTELLING Abstract Technical problem solving skills may not be as important as learner empathy in good instructional design practice. While a problem solving perspective has done much to provide designers strategies for their work, it has substantial limitations as well, including not describing how designers actually think. This article proposes a modification to the problem-solving model to include writing design stories as an explicit part of ID projects. Storytelling reconciles the apparent opposite skills of analysis and synthesis, and also allows more fruitful application of imagination and empathy in design. Because it is a representation of the ultimate goal of a designthe user experiencethe design story may be one of the most critical interim products of the design process. Design as Storytelling What is the most critical skill required by an instructional designer? Having worked with many IDs over the years, and having been responsible for hiring more than half of a dozen of them (and of course interviewing many more than that in the process), Ive thought about this question quite a bit. In my own practice, Ive also wondered what has contributed to my being successful on particular projects and less so on others. Of course, as in any design discipline, success is a multi-layered judgment. I suggest that it includes much more than simply whether or not learners achieve the stated objectives. It also includes whether or not the product can engage learners, treat content in a meaningful way, and foster an interest in the subject matter, all of which contribute directly to the quality of learning. Given this broad definition of success, the answer Ive arrived at to the question posed is thisthe most critical ID skill is the ability to step outside ones own perspective and see the design through the learners eyes. I liken this skill to poet John Keats concept of negative capability, or the ability to be in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason (Keats, 1817/1992, p. 494). Keats attributed this quality to literary geniuses like Shakespeare, who could lose their personal identity at will and see the world of their characters through those characters. But perhaps a more direct term for this ability, suggested to me by my colleague, Scott Switzer, is learner empathy. This

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ability is central to ID because it is needed to understand how instruction would be experiencedincluding how text will be interpreted, how instructional software will be navigated, what will be discerned in illustrations, what will engage or bore learners during the course of instruction, and what they will take away from the experience. This is different than learner analysis, which typically focuses on systematically considering only a few important qualities identified in a sample of questionnaires, interviews, and discussions with the client organization. Negative capability, on the other hand, implies a willingness to explore less obvious implications of the analysis, free of fact and reason, and open to unexpected findings. This isnt a textbook answer to the question, and it doesnt quite fit in the list of Instructional Design Competencies published by ERIC (Fields, Foxen, & Richey, 2001). But I suspect that Im not unique in placing a high value on empathy. However, this aspect of ID is not often talked about explicitly, and more likely simply assumed to underlie good design practice. In the past year, I have pondered much more about the quality of empathy and its place in the design process. How do IDs exercise empathy as they design? Can they do it intentionally, or is it simply a trait they possess that shows itself in the quality of their work? Can they learn to practice empathy more effectively? This article summarizes an initial proposal for how we can better utilize and nurture learner empathy in instructional design. To do so requires a shift from emphasizing the technical problem-solving nature of ID. Instead, we might view design as more a process of composing a story of learner experience. Design as Technical Problem Solving: A Dead End? ID as technical (or rational) problem solving has always been the traditional viewpoint, and nearly all models of ID reflect this orientation (cf. Gustafson & Branch, 2002). In this view, an initial analysis phase allows us to create a depiction of the problem space (Simon, 1999), including the goals and constraints of the problem, and designers then work within this space to generate potential solutions. This view has led ID theorists to call the task analysis phase the single most important component process in the instructional design process (Jonassen, Tessmer, & Hannum, 1999, p. vii). As conceptions of instructional design problems have evolved and grown to encompass broader social systems, the recommended kinds of analysis have grown as well. In addition to task and content analysis, these now include learner analysis and context analysis, for example (Tessmer & Richey, 1997). Better solutions reflecting our broadening conceptions of learning systems are assumed to require more thorough analysis in creating the problem space. While this viewpoint represents a logical ideal, it doesnt appear to represent the realities of practice. Design studies have shown that instructional designers (and designers in other fields, as well) do not rigidly divide analysis and synthesis into separate phases, and can at times even appear to skip an explicit analysis phase

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(Lawson, 1997; Rowland, 1992; Visscher-Voerman & Gustafson, 2004; Wedman & Tessmer, 1993). Rowlands (1992) study of IDs showed that experts often generate a tentative solution quite early in their analysis of a design task, and that they consider and evaluate this initial solution as they learn more about the problem. This finding recalls the work of Darke (1984), who found that architects tended to begin their process with a primary generator, a seed to a solution that provides a more productive way into problem exploration than would a list of constraints. Lawson (1997) considered viewing design analysis as separate from synthesis a dead end, and preferred instead to speak of analysis in synthesis. But the mechanism for this form of thinking remains mysterious. Analysis skills are traditionally viewed as opposite those of synthesis, and it is often assumed that good designers must be somewhat unusual in their possession of high levels of both. Do good designers truly possess a unique capability? Or do designers, as practitioners of the first tradition (Nelson & Stolterman, 2003), exercise a universal human capacity? What thinking process is it that can reconcile these apparent opposites, drawing from both analysis and synthesis in equal measure? Storytelling in the Design Process One process that bridges analysis and synthesis is storytelling. Stories are always drawn from life, from both the general qualities we distill from experience and the particular qualities we discern in careful observation, but they get their power from going beyond this basis in fact. Stories are not simply reproductions in words of fully understood situations. From the standpoint of a reader or listener, stories are revealing journeys that we can take multiple times, discovering new things in each telling. But storytelling itself is also a process of discovery for the teller. Stories have been seen as important modes for storing knowledge and assigning meaning to our experiences (Polkinghorne, 1988; Schank, 1990), but for storytellers, they also perform an investigative function. In telling fictional stories we use imagination to create scenarios that help us learn things about our world that would not become apparent through analysis. Story can be seen as a form of inquiry in which, rather than dissecting through analysis, we bring elements of the world together in the imagination to discover the potentialities of their interaction. It is this quality that makes story a likely tactic used by designers in formulating their designs. Authors have been known to say that writing fiction is often a matter of first creating characters and then merely placing them in situations to watch how they react. In other words, not all of the characters reactions are necessarily plotted out in advance, but only narrowed by their prior experience as imagined by the author. It is only in the process of composing the story that the full range of possible constraints, conflicts, and desires inherent in the situation come into play. The backstory that authors create, which contains details about the characters lives prior to the timeframe

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of the story, is analogous to the analysis details used by a designer in composing a design solution. Analysis provides enough information to seed the process of imagining a story of user experience, a story that forms an important test of a design. But the analysis by itself doesnt predict user experience in any useful detail. Design stories can be seen as a form of dramatic rehearsal, a stage in the process of deliberation that John Dewey described as part of his effort to naturalize the concepts of logic and inquiry (e.g., Dewey, 1922/1988). Dewey rejected the formal logic explored by most philosophers of his time, and instead sought to describe a natural form of deliberation, the kind people carry out in everyday life as well as in more formal activities like scientific inquiry. Dewey saw deliberation as including a dramatic rehearsal of competing courses of action, a process akin to a thought experiment in which choices are played out to see what might result if they are taken. A deliberation that takes the form of dramatic rehearsal can be seen as the story of an imagined journey that continues past obstacles until arriving at a decisive, positive outcome (Dewey, 1922/1988). Dramatic rehearsal goes a long way in explaining the outcomes of research into ID practice mentioned above. The reason expert IDs perform a less pure analysis phase may well have to do with their use of the more productive and efficient process of dramatic rehearsal. In this process, analysis and synthesis merge as the designer uses both while imagining the journey of a learners experience in engaging with a finished design. Uses of Design Stories Design stories can be useful tools in several phases of the design process, including the design phase, the design communication or documentation phase, and in formative evaluation. This section will examine each of these uses. Stories in the Design Phase The first place to use design stories is during the analysis-in-synthesis or design phase of a project. Brief, imagined stories are likely used by all designers in evaluating possible designs or design features during and immediately following analysis, but actually writing out a design story may be a useful step in any instructional design project. A design story might be written to explore an episode of use of some key or problematic design feature, or it might be told at a much higher level, about a path to expertise that takes place over a long period of time, and through many different learning experiences. For example, consider the following story and the role it could play during the design phase of a course that teaches weather forecasters how to improve their written forecast products for aviation customers (specifically, their Terminal Area Forecasts, or TAFs).

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After nine years on the job, Dave considers himself a well experienced weather forecaster. Both his accuracy and scientific knowledge are as good as, if not better than, many more seasoned forecasters. In fact, he often finds himself explaining subtleties of the science to his more senior colleagues and sharing the implications of recent research articles he has read. His MS degree gave him a good grounding in meteorological science for diagnosing and forecasting. He had considered continuing his education and pursuing an academic position, but the limited job prospects led him to take a National Weather Service position when it became available. Now he feels that forecasting is probably the best way to enjoy what he loves most about the science, and the tedious process of writing research papers was never going to be enjoyable anyway. Taking a course on Writing Effective TAFs over the Internet would not be Daves first choice for spending his very limited free time, especially not during an evening at home. But completing the course is necessary for his professional development plan, so here he is launching the online course on his laptop in dining room, the TV audible from the family room where his kids are enjoying a relaxing evening after completing their own homework. He often completes Web-based training modules, and frequently does them from home. Typically this training is about the science, which interests him enough to keep him engaged even under these conditions. The objectives of this course, however, say that it will focus on understanding customer needs and communicating aviation forecasts, and that leaves him a little cold. Its not that he doesnt appreciate the customer perspective. He enjoys interacting with the aviation community and respects his service role. But writing a forecast is just a matter of putting into words what the science tells him about the days weather potential. Where is the need to take an entire course on the topic? His time could be much better spent learning more about what creates the weather conditions that affect airlinesor enjoying the evening with his family. When he launches the course, he is taken to the course orientation, where he learns that the course consists of a series of scenarios that include practical exercises in writing a TAF. He thinks this isnt a bad approach, until it dawns on him that the scenarios will likely not include any real weather forecasting. In fact, in the first module there is a section on Writing for Understanding, which apparently is not even about weather! He clicks the link to confirm this, and after launching the site, he indeed finds that the first section is about

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communicating directions for driving somewhere. Now, the connection between writing good directions and writing a good forecast is not lost on him, but this feels like a condescending approach for teaching professionals. His slim motivation is getting slimmer. . . . While this story doesnt promise to land me a place on any bestseller list, it serves a very useful role by exploring a learners response to the structure and scope of the proposed course. Other design stories, or extensions to this one, might explore in more detail a learners experience with a proposed Web interface, the embedded interactions, or the final assessment. Another might further explore how this particular course fits into the larger context of Daves developing professional practice. Qualities of Design Stories in the Design Phase. The rather clumsy exposition at the start does more than list learner analysis detailsit puts the story into play. Daves character is drawn from aspects of many forecasters Ive met over the years, but bringing him to life and watching his reactions helps me understand some details about the possible learning experience for some subset of my target audience. Notice that once the action does begin in the second paragraph, the description is of immediate experience. It is not an objective description of events as seen from a distance, or in the past. I am there with Dave, actually inhabiting Dave, taking his actions with him, hearing his thoughts, and feeling his feelings. This immediacy is critical to achieving a level of veracity in the design story. Writing the story encourages empathy on my part for learners like Dave. I dont just end my analysis by determining that because a large portion of my learner population has a certain characteristic X, that I will do Y with my design. I explore the result of a potential design decision by watching, in my imagination, a learners response to it. I can honestly say that I did not anticipate Daves negative reaction to the decision to begin with an analogy of writing a forecast to giving driving directions. That was a surprise, and it might encourage me either to take another approach, or to couch that section carefully to avoid a negative response. I wrote the story rapidly, not allowing myself too much time to control what was happening, but trusting intuition as a better means to uncover the thoughts and feelings of my imagined learner. I wanted the writing to be somewhat automatic and improvised. Writing in this way is likely to capture a truer emotional response, and less likely to allow myself opportunities to rationalize the validity of my design idea. While a design story isnt necessarily a complete narrative in the sense of having a beginning, middle, and end, and containing a denouement, it does follow many other principles outlined by Aristotle in his Poetics (trans. 1984). For example, it demonstrates condensed action. While the action is presented at an immediate level, the story is very condensedonly key dramatic details and moments central to the design

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being investigated are portrayed. Daves story also demonstrates organic unity, or consistency of theme, as aided by its condensed action. Rather than telling a tedious story of every aspect and detail of use, the design story focuses on a particular research question, as it were: How will a forecaster who views himself first as a scientist react to a required course centered on improving communication skills? This question is the storys animating idea, not simply the taking of the online course. However, within the bounds of their designated context, design stories should explore as many aspects of learner experience as possibleincluding considerations of the job or learning site, as well as learner personalities, motivations, frustrations, ambitions, and desires. They should attempt to embody the learners intentions. Writing design stories in the design phase doesnt replace the need to gather information on the learning and performance environments, the task or content to be learned, and the learner. That research is essential to building the backstory. But analysis has diminishing returns, and it can be difficult to know exactly which information will be important until it is tested. Too much of a good thing can lead to the problem of analysis paralysis, in which a novice designer can get lost in the complexity of conflicting analysis details and become stalled. In addition to providing a path forward, imagining the implementation of particular solutions or solution details through stories can actually uncover constraints (like the extent to Daves resistance to the TAF Writing course design or specifics about his learning at home) and desirables that may not otherwise become obvious. As design theorists have often expressed, a full understanding of the problem space does not truly emerge until solutions have been proposed and tested for validity (Dorst, 2004; Lawson, 1997; Schn, 1990). Design stories, whether written, told, or played out only in the imagination, provide an early test of solutions during a process of analysis-in-synthesis. Design Stories in Design Communication Nelson and Stolterman (2003) describe the need for imagination and judgment in the design enterprise. Imagination allows us to create the not-yet-existing through a process of composing parts, functions, structures, processes, and forms in way that fits the design situation. Judgment is used to evaluate that composition to determine how well it fits. But the enterprise also requires additional skills in design communication (both internal and interpersonal) to bring the composition into a perceivable form that allows judgment to occur. Design stories are both a form of design communication that allows us to judge designs and an exercise of imagination that contributes to the process of composition. In this section, I will focus on their use as a communication tool that makes a design sufficiently tangible to allow judgment by others and provide guidance for the development team. In architecture, the use of stories to articulate, refine, and even conceptualize (as described in the previous section) design solutions is relatively common (Lawson,

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1997). In such stories, the architect may describe users of the building carrying out routines of everyday life within the structure, helping to reveal how and why design features would enhance or detract from their experience. Lwgren and Stolterman (2004), both information systems designers, also describe in some detail the process of creating a scenario about how the intended system is used (p. 80). Instructional designers can borrow this tactic for their own practice to better communicate their design solutions. Design stories could remain thought experiments and still serve in design deliberations.. But written stories have the advantage of becoming a document for creating shared vision within the design team, reminding SMEs about the instructional goals and end-user, for example, if they are providing script drafts, and for better communicating the rationale and value of a design to clients. The following example is an excerpt from a design story describing a complete learning experience with a self-paced, Web-based learning module. It was used in a project plan to demonstrate to the client how key concerns were being addressed by the design. Kim is a weather forecaster coming to the module as a required training assignment. Kim has less than a year of experience in the field, and feels she has had only limited preparation for a module on Numerical Weather Prediction through her education. While she is dedicated to perform competently, she is a little skeptical about the need to learn what might be perceived as unnecessary details about numerical models. She is somewhat reluctant to complicate her forecast process, with its already significant time constraints, by including the need to analyze the performance of more than one model. Section 1. In the opening section, the first thing Kim encounters is a realistic case, the type a forecaster might experience in the field. She immediately perceives the relevance of the content and becomes engaged with the problem of sorting out the discrepancies of global vs. WRF model performance. She attempts the interactions, which she finds challenging because they ask her to think about the implications of the differences between global model and WRF guidance (which she is unfamiliar with). But because the presentation of the exercises is instructional, rather than test-like, she feels game to make the best guesses she can. What also adds to her comfort level in approaching this new content is that it supports what she already understands about the need to use a forecast funnelto start with the large scale (including global scale model guidance) and working down to the Mesoscale, or more local issues. After reviewing the case, she feels she knows what to expect to learn from the rest of the module.

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Section 2. Kim enters the second section and finds it conveniently divided into 4 subsections, each addressing a key forecast problem (like the effects of topography, which she knows frequently makes model forecasts suspect), and how the WRF model offers improved guidance for the problem. The small divisions make it easier for her, because she is unsure whether she will get through the module in one sitting today. . . . Kim begins to feel a growing, deeper understanding about how and when the WRF model will make a difference due to its more realistic depiction of topography. In the final page, her new understanding is confirmed as she reads about a few operational scenarios describing how other forecasters like her might use WRF data in their forecasts. . . . Section 4. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kim enters the final section and is pleased that it is also relatively short. It appears to be merely a few pages of content about a problem that was introduced in the opening sectionhow does a forecaster deal with a situation in which a long range forecast is needed, but the global model forecast beyond 48 hours disagrees significantly from the mesoscale model at 48 hours (its longest range forecast), which typically makes the best forecast in this kind of situation? Shes already experienced such situations. In fact, theyre the norm rather than the exception. So Kim easily sees its relevance and hopes the section will help. . . . This section, and the module as a whole, makes her appreciate the complexity of her role as weather forecaster even more than before, and motivates her to take up the challenge with new energy, armed with a deeper knowledge of NPW models. Qualities of Design Stories for Design Communication. You will notice that this design story, although written for a different purpose, demonstrates most of the qualities called for in stories for the design phase of projects. It is a story about a broad range of thoughts and feelings of a typical learner, told in first person, describing immediate experience. Its action is relatively condensed, although in this case it is meant to describe experience with all portions of the final product. While design communication stories still require imagination and empathy, they are likely more controlled and pointed, and less exploratory, ensuring that they document a desired vision for the product. Design Stories in Formative Evaluation

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A final use of design story is to prepare for formative evaluation, or to provide an additional form of formative evaluation when it might be otherwise limited. More than just storyboards of the product that serve as limited models for formative evaluation, design stories are prototypes of the final design outcomethe learner experience. In this way, they can provide a rich source of information about a design in lieu of immediate user feedback. One traditional purpose of storyboards is to depict content sequencing and interface design in providing a limited prototype for clients and testers to envision the finished product and comment on how the design is proceeding. However, design stories can be combined with storyboards to better flesh out an episode of use before a review. For example, a design story could be combined with sketches that depict the learners actions in using computer-based instruction, or at minimum the learners on-screen choices, as well as depictions of the computer screens. A segment from a combined storyboard and design story focused on a learners experience with a case-based, learning-object-supported Web module is included in Appendix E (also see Lwgren & Stolterman, 2004, p. 84 for use in the context of software application design). When formative evaluation doesnt or cant happen, engaging in design storytelling can be highly motivating for IDs, who might otherwise remain quite removed from the end user. The story can help make user experience more tangible, and can round out the design experience by broadening its significance beyond the mere act of building a product. One might argue that design stories are poor response to the need for formative evaluation, and that they are no replacement for testing prototypes with real learners. Alternatively, one could argue that good prototyping and formative evaluation are outward forms of dramatic rehearsal, and that their value is similar. Rapid prototyping, or successive approximation (Allen, 2003), and formative evaluation of any type can contribute substantially to improving a design. Design stories are not a replacement for these activities, they are companions. Without prior inward dramatic rehearsal, the prototypes used in outward formative evaluation begin in worse condition, and the improvement process may be more challenging as a result. Furthermore, just as writing a design story is an imaginative activity, good prototyping and formative evaluation also require a high degree of imagination to compare them to real learning experiences. Unfortunately, because of cost and time constraints, prototyping often consists merely of screen and interaction mockups, along with roughed out content scripts, and formative evaluation of these prototypes often happens in unrealistic settings. The goals of formative evaluation are often narrow as well, focused on finding the degree to which objectives are met and whether the products demonstrate good usability. However, the final impact of instruction comes from more than these; it depends on all qualities of the learner experience, including its practical, aesthetic, and ethical dimensions, all of which may be more completely understood when design storytelling accompanies formative evaluation.

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Qualities of Design Stories for Formative Evaluation. The desirable qualities for design stories in the late phases of the ID process are the same as those required in the design phaseincluding first person narration, immediacy, condensed action, and rapid, improvisatory telling to avoid rationalization. Stories at this stage are once again exploratory, and the learner reactions described should result from a high degree of empathetic imagination, attempting to discover a wide range of learner reactions to the product. However, like design communication stories, stories written in this later phase of a project will likely cover a complete experience with the product, unless only a limited number of elements of the design are of concern. For a summary of all the guidelines for design stories described in this section, see Table 1. Table 8.1 Guidelines for Design Stories ___________________________________________________________________ 1. Write design stories during the design phase of a project to explore an episode of use of (a) a key or problematic design feature, (b) a complete, coherent learning experience, or (c) an entire learning path. 2. Write design stories to communicate the design to clients and others in the design team. These can become part of the project plan or design document. 3. Write design stories as a part of the formative evaluation phase of a project. Use these stories to explore a wide ranges of learner responses during an episode of use. 4. Use analysis details as the backstory. 5. Include sufficient exposition to establish character and setting. Table 8.1 (cont.) 6. Inhabit the learner in the story as you imagine his or her responses during the learning experience. 7. Improvise and allow yourself to be surprised with the outcome.

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8. Write rapidly, almost automatically, to avoid rationalization. However, stories written for design communication purposes should be done with more care to document a desired vision. 9. Maintain unity by sticking to a single animating idea or research question, however narrow or broad. 10. Give the action immediacy. Use present tense and include learner reflections only as a response to tangible elements of the design. 11. Explore as many aspects of the learners experience as possible, including setting, motivations, desires, ambitions, and frustrations. Consider how values (of the designer, client, and learner) and political factors come into play. _____________________________________________________________________ Cultivating Empathy It is easy to see how empathy and negative capability become important in the dramatic rehearsal, or storytelling, processes of design. A designer must use his or her imagination, of which empathy is one form, to anticipate the authentic experience of a user. What is most important about explicitly cultivating empathy in instructional design is that its use broadens our conception of what we are designing and what our designs are meant to achieve. Simply using logical reasoning in an attempt to fit together, puzzle-like, what is known through analysis will often miss critical aspects of user experience, and even the value of that experience. A technical problem solving perspective can tend to focus on immediate needs and goals, the measurable achievement of outcomes attributable to isolated instructional activities. However, experiences have continuity with one another, and the quality of one experience, not merely its immediate outcomes, impacts our future ability (and willingness) to learn from and perform in similar situations (Dewey, 1938/1997). Alternatively, allowing one to vicariously experience through empathy not only the cognitive processes of learners, but also their personalities, motivations, ambitions, desires, and the things that frustrate these, opens us up to a fuller conception of how our designs fit into the learners world. It allows us to be supported by each of what Wilson (2005) calls the Four Pillars of Practice, including knowledge of individual cognition, connection to the practice environment, values and political considerations, and aesthetics. Empathy, or our ability to put ourselves in the place of other individuals (Eisenberg & Strayer, 1987), is a central component of dramatic rehearsal, and it is essential for creating valid design stories and successful designs. What can be done then to enhance our empathy, and how can we foster it in students of instructional

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design? Is empathy a quality we are born with, a trait we develop in our formative years, or is it a skill we can purposefully enhance? I suggest it is a combination of the three, and that while some people might lack sufficiently native empathy to be good designers, there are clearly things we can do improve our powers of empathy. First, we need to know our audience. By this I am suggesting we do more than a formal learner analysis that documents characteristics we think are useful to know about. Im suggesting we need to socialize with them when we can, to learn what motivates and frustrates them about their work and learning experiences. This is difficult for consulting IDs, but IDs can cultivate effective interviewing skills to quickly connect with individual learners during interviews to draw out much more than can be achieved through surveys or demographic data. We need to do more than run formative evaluation activities and collect surveys to understand how learners use our designs. We need to participate in learning events and observe how learners react when they arent test subjects. We need to see how learners use our designs in their natural settings, if only vicariously through reports from those in a position to observe learners. We need to be learners ourselves, using the kinds of materials we are developing for our learner audiences. For example, using a self-paced CBT module or participating in an online course with a genuine intent to learn from it, rather than critique it as a designer, will help us understand learner experiences better. We need to become more adept at creating rich design stories through practice and by reading the stories of other designers. We could benefit by looking to the strategies and tactics authors use in the creative writing of stories and backstories. These tactics may help us better capture human experience in design stories and provide guidance for exercising our negative capabilities. In a similar vein, IDs could benefit from learning basic acting techniques, particularly improvisation skills, because design stories are fundamentally an exercise in improvisation. Method acting skills could help increase negative capability, allowing IDs to let go of preconceived notions of how learners will use their instruction and to inhabit the worlds of their learners. In teaching instructional design students, we can ask them to include design stories as part of their ID project assignments. At minimum, we might ask them to defend their design decisions by citing considerations of the full experience of learners. Such practice might instill an understanding of the value of the empathetic imagination.

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Finally, we should do more to share actual stories of learners experiences with instructional designs. As in design stories, these stories should pay attention to the holistic experience of learning, not just achievement of objectives. Conclusion

Writing a design story takes time, and IDs should always be wary about adding complexity to an already time-consuming process. However, the benefits may be numerous. Any tactic that improves our design deliberations should ultimately be seen as a time saver, rather than time sink. If my dictum is true, and rapid is better when it comes to writing design stories, one wouldnt spend any more than an hour or so on any one story anyway, and probably much less. Furthermore, I suspect that after a time, the practice of writing design stories may improve the quality of our internal deliberations as well. With practice, we can increase our ability to slip into and out of the viewpoint of our learners, improving our decision making at every point in the design process. Technical problem solving as a model for instructional design has its strengths, and it has done much to provide designers strategies for their work, but it has substantial limitations as well. For one, it doesnt do a good job in describing how designers actually think. Slavish adherence to its methods can also be considered responsible for the proliferation of designs regarded by many as boring, and therefore ultimately ineffective (Allen, 2003). In this article, I have proposed a modification to the problem-solving model to include storytelling as an explicit part of design. Storytelling might better represent how productive designers think, reconciling the apparent opposites of analysis and synthesis, and also allow more fruitful application of empathy in design. In the end, because it is a representation the ultimate goal of design the user experience, the design story may be one of the most critical interim products of the design process.

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CHAPTER 9 PLOTTING A LEARNING EXPERIENCE Abstract This chapter describes an informal visual notation system that can be used by instructional designers in conceptualizing a design for an aesthetic learning experience. It begins by making a case for the importance of aesthetics as a major consideration in designing instruction, distinguishing aesthetic experience from more narrow conceptions of art and aesthetics. Drawing parallels between learning experiences and other narratives, examples of several narrative diagrams used in planning and analyzing fictional narratives are examined. Borrowing strategies from these narrative diagrams, the chapter then proposes the use of engagement curves to help designers more fully consider the aesthetic experience of learners in the design phase of instruction. Several examples of the use of narrative diagrams to analyze existing instructional designs are provided, as well as a demonstration of how an instructional design educator might use a narrative diagram in planning a course on ID models. Beyond Technical Instructional Design Instructional design (ID) is always a complex task. Underlying any ID project are multiple goals and contributing factors that must be considered in making the myriad decisions that lead to a final design. Facing this complexity, instructional designers may feel pressed to conceive of their task in a way that narrows their concerns and allows more control and clear definition. For example, they may place their emphasis on modeling the performance of experts to help clarify instructional goals, on developing a sequence of instructional content designed to build toward better understanding, or on the effective implementation of instructional strategies meant to stimulate the cognitive conditions and processes in which learning can be expected to occur. Each of these focuses provides a framework to help ensure that learning outcomes are appropriate and achievable, and constrains the ID process to a series of problems with clear possibilities for solutions. Yet, even though these technical qualities of an ID project are essential to care for, in narrowly conceiving instruction to possess only these qualities or assuming that all the other qualities are handled when these critical technical issues are well addressed, instructional designers may not adequately consider the complete nature of learning experiences. Learning experiences are always much more than the cognitive

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processing of well planned subject matter and structured learning activities. They also encompass how the learner feels about, values, and, ultimately, establishes a level of engagement with the instructional environment. They include the affective qualities that determine how engagement develops in a learning situation, which, while not ignored by ID, are frequently considered secondarily to or separately from the privileged cognitive qualities (for further exploration of the limitations of this dichotomy, see Parrish, 2006b). Beyond being a cognitive activity, learning experience (and therefore ID) is also political, ethical, emotional, and, perhaps most important in consideration of engagement, aesthetic in nature (O'Regan, 2003; Parrish, 2005; Wilson, 2005). Beyond problem solving, instructional design is also the process of composing an experience that will stimulate the engagement that leads to learning. In fact, learner engagement is likely the most critical factor in any learning experience. Whether learning is viewed as individual or system change, it will occur only when a learner desires the change or is shown the necessity of embracing it. Engagement describes a relationship to an instructional situation in which the learner willingly makes a contribution that is active and constitutive. Beyond task persistence, it involves investment of effort and emotion, willingness to risk, and concern about both outcomes and means. While IDs work to tame instruction into a manageable, replicable process that begins by predetermining outcomes to be measured through properly aligned assessments, engagement describes that wild aspect of the process in which the learner is as much or more in control of the activities and outcomes as the ID. Natural learning in everyday situations occurs as people willingly invest themselves in tasks, either alone or with others, with immediately meaningful goals. In formal learning situations like those offered in schools and much of professional training, that meaning, which is both a necessary precondition for and result of learner engagement, is often more difficult for learners to see. Yet the need for engagement remains high if deep and lasting learning is desired. Only when learners invest attention, effort, and emotional commitment is there a chance that they will learn deeply in the situations crafted by instructors and instructional designers. Aesthetic Instructional Design The aesthetic, or artistic, qualities of instructional design have received increasing discussion in recent years (Parrish, 2005; Visscher-Voerman & Gustafson, 2004; Wilson, 2005: Hokanson, Hooper, & Miller, Chapter 1.1 This Volume). This broadening beyond the technical qualities of ID is likely to lead to many innovative approaches to the task of creating engaging instruction. However, aesthetics is a slippery construct, carrying with it many misleading, over-generalized ideas about art and artists, and some conceptions of it have less to offer IDs. This section first examines some of the less promising ideas surrounding art and aesthetics before introducing the concept of aesthetic experience, which not only has more to say about

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learning, but is also more successful in explaining the wide variety of artistic expression that exists. One of these limited conceptions is that aesthetics describes those qualities of an object or event that are attractive, pleasurable, or aimed at creating feelings of delightqualities to which artists are deemed especially attuned. While they are not without purpose, limiting our conception of aesthetics to these qualities makes it merely a motivator layered onto (or into) more substantive qualities. For instructional designers, these more substantive qualities are of course the instructional strategies that have a scientific basis, and perhaps qualities such as usability and functionality. If art is a model for the application of aesthetics, this conception seems to ignore the fact that many works of art are quite disturbing (consider King Lear, Picassos Guernica, or Stravinskys Rite of Spring, for example) and do their work by challenging our expectations and desire for immediate pleasure. These works force us to grow rather than entertain or delight, as would artful works of instruction. When art is seen as exalting the primacy of the individual, it also has little room in the work of IDs. Examples of this conception include justifying the emotional outpouring of artists, or assuming that artists are always self-referential and unconcerned with the impact of their work on others. It can also be seen in the assumption that artists tolerate no source of judgment other than their own. But of course, like all activity, art is a social phenomenon embedded in a complex activity system, and artists serve an important role or they would not be as valued as they indeed are. Artists, even popular artists, are often harbingers of social change who ask us to perceive the world in new ways, but they function within society, and have obligations to it just like the rest of us. Even though large parts of society may not immediately see the value of some works of art, or may at first be upset by the change in perception they are being asked to undertake, in the end society doesnt tolerate insular artists that dont attempt a connection, and their works fade away from notice. Nor would learners or clients tolerate an instructional designer that used only her own judgment as final arbiter of instructional decisions. Finally, art is at times linked to an irrepressible urge to innovate with little concern for productive outcomes. While a quick review of twentieth century art, especially the visual arts, might lead one to this conclusion, I suspect this aspect of recent art is more a reflection of the cultural upheaval caused by rapid technological and social change that pervades the times, and isnt the nature of art itself. Viewing art in the longer term, or keeping the popular arts in mind, one can see more emphasis on convention than on innovation. Every artist is concern with productive outcomes namely the aesthetic experience of those who appreciate her work. Innovation in technique, material, or subject matter, or choosing to investigate cultural changes not yet visible to most people, is one tool for achieving this. But extravagant innovation for its own sake is the strategy of minor artists who are missing the point, or perhaps brief flirtations with the muse for the better ones. Even great artists never quite live down

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their technical failures. Stories about Frank Lloyd Wrights leaky roof, or Berninis sinking foundation are often told as parables to self-indulgent, young artists and designers (Schama, 2006: Hokanson, Hooper, & Miller, Chapter 1.1 This Volume). IDs bent on innovation for its own sake may amuse learners for a time, but this approach has the potential to become a self-indulgent distraction to learning. Certainly, creating pleasurable experiences, using ones connoisseurship to judge instructional quality, and seeking creative solutions are all valuable attributes of a successful instructional design practice, and in balance with the other important qualities of good design, can lead to well rounded products (See Hokanson, Hooper, & Miller, Chapter 1.1 this volume). But limiting aesthetics to any or even all of the three senses described above places it in a distant position in the minds of IDs, who are primarily concerned with qualities of their work that can directly impact learning and serve their clients in appropriate and affordable ways. In other words, an instructional artist, if described as exhibiting the above predilections to the detriment of serving learning, would not last long in practice. However, the concept of aesthetic experience has a more fundamental contribution to make to instructional design (Dewey, 1934/1989; Jackson, 1998; Parrish, 2005). Aesthetic experience describes a type of experience in which our awareness is heightened and a sense of meaning or unity becomes pervasiveclearly a condition that is ripe for learning. This type of experience can emerge during any meaningful activity, but it is particularly characteristic of and more frequently acknowledged to exist in our experiences with works of art, simply because art is expressly created to evoke it. For this reason, works of art can provide models for approaches to the design of aesthetic experiences in other life activities, including learning and instruction, and the lessons they can teach go far beyond the overgeneralizations described above. Whether the work of art takes the form of painting, sculpture, architecture, drama, dance, fiction, or film, our experience of it has narrative qualities. This narrative follows a pattern of inquiry, similar to the pattern of disciplined inquiry, in which we perceive the object or situation and over time, through engagement with it, come to sense its meaning or unity. This general pattern of experience, as described by Dewey (1934/1989), unfolds in the following way when applied to learning situations: A felt need, tension, or puzzlement that impels a learner to resolve an indeterminate situation A sustained anticipation of outcomes that helps to maintain the initial engagement Intent action or observation on the part of the learner, including a concern for immediate qualities and things (not merely a focus on goals or instruction as a means to an end) Consideration of how these observations bear on the anticipated end

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A consummation that unifies the experience (not merely terminates it) and makes it significant.

In other words, an aesthetic experience is not just one that causes pleasure or shocks us with creative vision, except to the extent the finding meaning is always pleasurable and renewing. It is one that causes meaning to be realized in a deeply felt way. In such powerful experiences, learning may be deepened and learners made better prepared and enticed to learn further. Rather than serving only immediate needs, such experiences may create learning that continues to grow by making us more responsive to new learning opportunities (Osguthorpe, 2006). Aesthetic experiences are those in which engagement is sustained by virtue of this recognizable pattern and the unity of experience it brings (Dewey, 1934/1989). This form of experience is played out in our engagement with any art form, either explicitly in the stories we read or see performed in plays or movies, or more subtly when we enter the world of a painting or listen to a musical composition (Berleant, 1991). But it is also indicative of all our inevitable struggles to learn about and interact with the world around us. In fact, as Dewey proposes, it is from these everyday struggles and their empowering effect that the urge for aesthetic experience arises. Aesthetic experiences are unified in intent and purpose, and include following through toward a conclusion that satisfies the initial felt need. This narrative unity is precisely the meaning missing from many formal learning situations, which may be more episodic than unified in treating learning objectives unconnected to a driving goal or question. As a pattern of inquiry, the concept of aesthetic experience isnt foreign to instructional designers at all. Many instructional design models stress meaning making as a central condition of learning. Inquiry-based (Collins & Stevens, 1983), goal-based (Schank, Berman, & Macpherson, 1999), case-based (Kolodner & Guzdial, 2000), problem-based (Savery & Duffy, 1996), and problem-centered (Jonassen, 2004) learning, as well as similar generative approaches to ID, each offer strategies for creating learning experiences with the potential to become aesthetic. However, when these ID models become rigid templates or merely new technical solutions, applications of them may nonetheless miss out on addressing the full range of qualities inherent in a learning experience and in doing so slight the need to care for learning engagement. Seen in this way, aesthetic instructional design involves a particular stance toward the design task, the tools for accomplishing that task (including ID models), the instructional goals, and the learner. It suggests approaches compatible with many ID models, and is supportive of those models as a way to enhance their application. On the other hand, it is much more than simply a layer of pleasantness or excitement added to the otherwise technically competent models. It is as much about what is important for learners to experience as how they might experience it (Parrish, in press).

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Designing for Aesthetic Experience One way for instructional designers to better plan for aesthetic learning experiences is to pay particular attention to the narrative that unfolds as a learner engages in learning. Viewing learning as a narrative in no way trivializes it or reduces instruction it to a form of entertainment. As the pattern of experience described above demonstrates, narrative is a fundamental way of knowing about the worldperhaps our most fundamental way of deriving its meaning (Bruner, 1990, 2002; Polkinghorne, 1988). Narrative is the story-logic we find in, or impose upon, any experience we consider meaningful. Any narrative, and any meaningful experience, possesses five necessary componentsan Agent, an Action, a Goal, a Setting, and a Means (Burke, 1945, as cited in Bruner, 2002). The fact that these fundamental components are also present in the pattern of inquiry, or any intentional act for that matter, reveals the powerful role narrative plays in our interpretation of the world. Using narrative as a guiding force for instruction, as is done implicitly in each of the ID models mentioned above, can be a powerful way to stimulate learning engagement. Like a narrative, effective learning situations will have well established beginnings, middles, and endings that follow the pattern of aesthetic experience and contain the narrative components described above, revealing a necessary struggle to resolve a problematic situation that leads to learning. Whether the problematic situation is a true problem, a stimulating question or issue, or merely puzzlement or new experience that throws current knowledge into doubt, it is a call to seek out the information that allows one to test possible answers. Any of these situations initiate a sequence of events similar to the dramatic arc found in nearly all narratives, but which also comprise aesthetic experiences of whatever kind (Dewey, 1934/1989). Caring for and assessing the potential for the aesthetic or narrative qualities of instruction can be accomplished by writing fictional design stories, or scenarios of learner experience, during the design phase of an ID project (Parrish, 2006a). Design stories are short first-person narratives written by designers from the imagined point-ofview of a user. They explore either an episode of use of a key or problematic design feature or a complete, coherent experience with the designed product, using the process of story writing to allow designers to exercise empathy toward users and make better design decisions. For instructional designers, they explore learning experiences, taking into account the expected qualities of instructional settings and of learners, including their motivations, ambitions, desires, and potential frustrations in learning. The act of creating design stories can help designers build empathy with learners as they imagine learning experience to a degree of detail not possible through traditional analysis processes, and not possible in the often constrained conditions of formative evaluation either. Writing design stories, which stimulates a thought process that exhibits a blend of analysis and synthesis, also makes the compositional nature of

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design more explicit, avoiding an artificial division of analysis and synthesis in design deliberations (Lawson, 1997; Nelson & Stolterman, 2003). Written or imagined stories of learner experience can be of use particularly in the early stages of design in which one is trying out potential ideas or communicating those ideas to others, but they can also serve in the formative evaluation stage of projects already in development to help assess the potential success of design decisions. Imagined stories of user experience likely arise in the minds of all designers when they are considering possible designs or design features, but written design stories can help make learning experiences more tangible and detailed, allowing designers to catch qualities of potential user experience that might be missed in analysis or in those brief, imagined episodes of experience. In addition, written stories also have the advantage of becoming a document for creating shared vision within the design team, reminding subject matter experts about instructional goals, and communicating the rationale and value of a design to clients. However, verbal stories are not the only way to focus on narrative qualities in composing or evaluating an instructional design. Visual notation in the form of narrative diagrams can play an important role as well. Diagramming Narratives While written stories of learner experience might best capture the details of that experience, narrative diagrams also can be highly useful tools in planning or revealing the dramatic arc of learning. Writers of fiction often find visual tools useful for plotting out the essential events of planned narratives or analyzing successful stories to learn how they function. For example, Ray (1994) describes the use of Aristotles Incline, a visual depiction of the rising action of a narrative, as a tool to aid in plotting stories (see Figure 9.1). Both a diagram of causality within the story, as well as a two-axis graph of the rising action of narrative events over time, Aristotles Incline can help to reveal or guide the development of a plot according to Aristotles dictum that it should have a distinct beginning, middle, and end, with a developing complication and subsequent denouement (literally, an untying). The three parts are set off by key plot points that redirect the action based on the protagonist gaining new knowledge or on events that propel the story in a new or more clearly defined direction (in some cases this involves a peripeteia, or reversal of fortune or revelation of false assumptions) (Aristotle, trans. 1984).

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Figure 9.1: Aristotles Incline, depicting rising action, the three key divisions of a dramatic narrative, and the relationship of key dramatic plot points. In Aristotles Incline, the Y-axis depicts level of action, which typically rises in a narrative until the closing, and the X-axis is narrative time. In complex narratives, narrative time may not be chronological time, but instead the sequence in which events are revealed and the story is developedstory-logical time versus chronological time. What is meant by rising action is the protagonists deepening involvement or engagement in events of the story, and the increasing seriousness of the potential repercussions of those events. One way to view rising action might be to consider how difficult it would be for the protagonist to step out of the course of events. As the action rises, the protagonist becomes more deeply bound to those events and the possibility of extraction decreases. Typically, in the closing scenes of a narrative, extraction is impossible because real or symbolic life and death outcomes are at stake. Teachers of fiction writing like Ray (1994) advise writers to position their key plot elements along the incline to ensure that each of the prescribed plot structures are defined by those elements, and that the beginning, middle, and end are well delineated by plot points. A well plotted diagram whose elements fit logically together in a cause and effect relationship will be more likely to engage an audience and provide a satisfying dramatic or reading experience. (Narratives can be developed with symbolic or lyric relationships of plot elements as well, but these are not as common, and are often more challenging and less satisfying for some.) The use of the incline can be explained best by example. Figure 9.2 shows how it can be applied to a recent work of fiction familiar to millions of international readers, The DaVinci Code (Brown, 2003). As a novel, Browns book probably does not rate as highly sophisticated, yet its skillfully conceived plot structure creates such a high degree of engagement in its readers that the book has reached record-breaking bestseller statusone not completely attributable to its controversial subject matter.

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Figure 9.2: Aristotles Incline applied to the plot of The DaVinci Code (Brown, 2003) Other readers of The DaVinci Code may have considered other plot elements as the key components along the incline, but most readings would still reveal strong obedience to Aristotles poetics. There is a clear, rising complication and the hint of an early beginning of the denouement in Act One as Langdon becomes the key suspect in a mysterious murder and he and Sophie begin following puzzling clues to get at the truth. In Act Two, the complication deepens and the denouement continues as the purpose and machinations of a conspiracy become apparent. In this act, the protagonists must work to protect themselves and find proof of the supposed true story of the Holy Grail. In Act Three, an even deeper conspiracy is revealed, and the protagonists find they have a critical role to play in resolving the situation, one beyond just selfprotection. The plot of The DaVinci Code is carried forward by a series of revelations the supposed truth of the Holy Grail, the existence of the conspiracy (at two levels), the truth of Sophies identity. In other words, increasing knowledge drives the action as much as outward events. While the pattern of rising action in many fictional narratives may be much more subtle, it usually exists nonetheless. For example, in another popular, recent novel, Never Let Me Go (Ishiguro, 2005), the author employs a first-person narrator whose naivet allows a satisfactory understanding of the situation to be only slowly revealed. There are no dramatic moments of truth as there are in The DaVinci Code, but only a growing and never complete understanding of truth. Of course, this is probably a more realistic depiction of how we come to answers for the big questions of life, and it is what gives the novel its surprising power and narrative sophistication. Even though they are revealed the narrator in an understated way, a reader can still

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identify the significant plot points that are key contributions to her growing knowledge. The plot, divided into three parts separated chronologically by several years, is also given a well defined three act structure befitting Aristotles poetics. Many variations on Aristotles Incline exist, including a version developed by German playwright Gustav Freytag to describe dramatic tragedies, which has been used by Laurel (1993) to explore how users experience interactive software applications. In Freytags Triangle, shown in Figure 9.3, rather than level of action, the Y-axis instead depicts the level of complication. In most narratives, but particularly in tragedies, the resulting diagram appears as rising and falling lines, as complications are developed and the denouement brings resolution. In some tragedies, the rising and falling can also be seen as the state of the protagonists fortune, seemingly improving, then dramatically reversing in a fall to ruin. But just as knowledge drives the rise in action in The DaVinci Code, the rise and fall in Freytags Triangle can also be knowledge driven, where complications arise and are irresolvable until knowledge gained at the climax works to unravel those complications. In tragedy, this knowledge might mark the beginning of an inevitable fall, as Oedipus Rex falls in discovering the unwitting fulfillment of his prophecy. But in other forms of drama, the knowledge may help the protagonist achieve a more positive resolution played out in the remaining action.

Figure 9.3: Freytags Triangle, depicting increasing and falling complication. Another depiction of a common narrative form is the Heros Adventure as conceived by Campbell in his study of commonalities across world mythologies, The Hero with a Thousand Faces (1968). In this case, the rising and falling refer to the protagonists degree of challenge (similar to complication, as above, but with the Yaxis reversed), and the narrative arc takes the form of a circle. Hero myths are prevalent in probably all cultures, telling the story of those who bring hope to a society by defeating its symbolic enemies and/or bringing knowledge and other boons to share. Symbolically, the hero myth depicts the rite of passage we all go through in becoming adults able to contribute to our societya passage that is always difficult and dangerous, and not always successful. In this myth, the hero is often called to descend

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into a dark world of strife or challenge that holds significant rewards if successfully traversed. For example, Prometheus steals fire and knowledge of many other technologies from the gods for the benefit of mankind (in this case, ascending, rather than descending, into the dangerous place). Prometheus is rightly heralded for sharing this knowledge, even though he also faces the punishment of the gods.

Figure 9.4: The Heros Adventure, depicting a passage into an underworld of challenge and the return to prosperity (Campbell, 1968). Even though depicted as a circle to help reveal the cyclical and universally repeated nature of the heros journey, hero myths can also be plotted as a standard graph, like the previous narrative diagrams (see Figure 9.5). To remain true to the metaphor of descent, instead of rising action the Y-axis becomes degree of challenge, which increases toward to the origin of the graph. In many ways, it is Freytags triangle inverted.

Figure 9.5: The Heros Adventure plotted as a graph.

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Diagramming Instructional Designs The onus we put on stories to hang together is one we should also place on formal learning experiences. In good stories, knowledge gained by the characters (and by the audience) always has repercussions that lead toward a meaningful resolution of the complication. This is what unifies the story and makes it an effective aesthetic experience. Similarly, knowledge gained in formal learning experiences should make a difference within the big picture of the instructional event. It should be given an explicit opportunity to propel new learning or activity involving application of learning and not be merely another check off in a list of objectives. Concern for designing instruction that hangs together such that a clear a complication and denouement can be found will lead to more meaningful learning experiences. Narrative diagrams, used in combination with other design tools, can help designers achieve such designs. Like playwrights and novelists, instructors and instructional designers can use narrative diagrams as tools to help them plot the narrative of a planned learning experience. They can plot the sequence of topics and learning activities along the curve of the incline or triangle or around a circle (depending on their preference), helping to plan for a learning experience that will have the necessary structure to develop deep engagement and a fulfilling outcome. In creating such diagrams, instructional designers can also better attend to the holistic nature of the experience, and avoid exclusive focus on creating a conceptually logical content sequence or mechanical treatment of a list of objectives. While the Y-axis in diagrams used for fictional narratives typically describes the level of action or complication, in plotting learning narratives it can be used more appropriately to depict the changing level of learner engagement and complexity of the learning task (however, the correspondence of these to action and complication should be apparent). In this case, the diagram created can be called the engagement curve, depicting the story of a developing interest, or the waxing and, at times, inevitable waning of engagement during the learners journey into the unknown on a quest for knowledge. While we would like the experience of all learners to exhibit an engagement curve similar to Aristotles Incline (Figure 9.1), in practice, learning experiences rarely follow a steady rise in action or engagement. As suggested in research on aesthetic instructional design decisions (Parrish, 2004), IDs may often find that the practical constraints of formal learning situations lead to more flattened engagement curves. The rapid pace and lengthy courses of study necessary to cover content, as well as conflicting demands on attention and varied student interests and learning styles, all make sustained engagement, let alone a continuous rise, nearly impossible. Realistic engagement curves may show an initial rise in engagement if the instruction is designed to achieve it or if learners possess native interest. The middle is more likely to be

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relatively steady, but only if we are sufficiently clever to introduce activities that sustain or reinvigorate interest, or lucky enough to have learners with perseverance. Otherwise, the middle will likely see declines in engagement, as the initial novelty wears off and the arduous work of learning begins to test learners. Endings, with the potential consummation of unifying activities like final reports and projects and their promise of impending relief, may reveal a sharp rise in engagement corresponding to a fluster of closing activities. Figure 9.6 depicts an engagement curve of this sort.

Figure 9.6: The engagement curve of a typical formal learning experience. Because the large amount of work and long-term commitment required by nearly all formal learning situations is unlikely to lead to a steady rise in engagement, instructional designers may find it more useful to depict learning experiences as challenging adventures similar to the Heros Adventure depicted in Figures 9.4 and 9.5, with the learner fulfilling the role of epic hero rather than tragic or comedic protagonist. In such diagrams, the Y-axis depicts level of challenge rather than engagement. Depicted in this way, the middle doldrums are instead conceived of as the supreme ordeal or dark challenge of the quest. This adventure or challenge cycle depiction may be more motivating to students, especially at the middle phase of instruction when they may be eager to see themselves as about to follow the curve back upward toward the light of completion. Figures 9.7 and 9.8 are examples of this form of learning experience diagram depicted as a cycle and challenge graph, respectively. Figure 9.8 applies a slightly different use of terminology.

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Figure 9.7: The Students Adventure as a cycle.

Figure 9.8: The Students Adventure as graph. Plotting Engagement Curves In this section lets take the generic engagement curve depicted in Figure 9.6 and use it to help understand the designs of two specific instructional products. Neither of these projects used engagement curves explicitly in the design phase, but the use of

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similar sketches and frequent discussion about learner engagement, and in the case of the second example, a written design story, led to designs that reveal good adherence to the desired qualities of an engagement curve. So in these examples, the narrative diagrams are used as a validation and evaluation tools. Hurricane Strike! (http://meted.ucar.edu/hurrican/strike/index.htm) is an online learning module for middle school students about the science and safety of hurricanes. From the beginning of the project, learning engagement was viewed as a central challenge, and for this reason a scenario-based approached was used to strengthen the narrative qualities of the learning experience. This did not, of course, negate the need to clearly identify the required learning objectives and to structure the scenario using a traditional content matrix, nor even to map activities according to U.S. National Science Education Standards (See Appendices F and G). Yet these alone are not enough to fully appreciate the experience of learning made possible by the module. However, we can turn to an engagement curve to identify how a typical learner might experience the module. Figure 9.9 depicts how one can apply the diagram to plot key instructional events that may lead to significant changes in level of engagement. Creating this plot may reassure us that the design will hang together and maintain sufficient engagement. On the other hand, it may demonstrate flawed or incomplete story-logic. For example, we might anticipate the following: Initial engagement is stimulated at the beginning through the use of a highly graphical and interactive design, as well as by embedding the content in the context of the story. The learner, in fact, is treated as a character within the story of a family preparing for a potential hurricane strike. Plot Point 1 occurs when learners find the Create-A-Cane game during Day 2 of the scenario, which presents a game-within-a-story that not only enriches the context, but also creates anticipation for more fun interactions and increasing knowledge about this interesting and dangerous weather phenomenon. The middle is highly informative, and uses a series of quality interactions to help maintain engagement while learners delve deeper into the topic, but some engagement inevitably wanes. Plot Point 2 marks the end of the middle and beginning of the ending as Hurricane Erin strikes and learner concerns move from learning about the science of hurricanes and safety preparations to helping friends and family survive the event. These activities consolidate what has been learned and reveal why it has been important to do so.

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Figure 9.9: The Hurricane Strike! online module. In contrast to the engagement curve, Appendix E shows the use of an E2ML diagram (Botturi, 2006) to describe all factors and considerations for a single interaction within the module. While the detail in this diagram helps to ensure that many important considerations have been made, the accumulated E2ML diagrams it would take to describe Hurricane Strike! will never describe the learning experience in the way the narrative diagram can achieve. The fact these two such different notation systems can usefully complement one another demonstrates the complexity of instructional systems design and the range of considerations that designers might make. A second example, the design of a module for weather forecasters on using a new numerical weather prediction model (the WRF model) as a tool in the forecast process, demonstrates the use of the engagement curve to analyze the instructional design for much more technical subject matter (this module can be found online at http://www.meted.ucar.edu/nwp/afwa_wrf/index.htm). In this design project, it might have been tempting to forego a concern about learner experience and engagement and focus on the accuracy and scope of the technical content. While an engagement curve was not an early step in the design process, a design story was used in the project plan to clarify the experience goals of the module and understand its narrative nature. The story was also used to communicate these goals to the client and subject matter experts who would develop the script drafts. The engagement curve depicted in Figure 9.10 is a summary of the story told in the project plan. A portion of this story can found in Parrish (2006a).

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Figure 9.10: The Using the WRF Model online module. In examining this engagement curve, we see the following structural elements: The opening introduction of a forecast problem is left unresolved to create a problematic situation and stimulate engagement. It is couched as a typical problem a forecaster might find in the field, and is told in first person. Further along in the beginning act of the module, the problem is more deeply explored and the WRF is shown to be a beneficial tool in the resolving the problem. The first plot point is the resolution of this first problem, setting the stage to explore further benefits of the WRF model for forecasters. The middle includes the introduction of several more forecast problems and demonstration of how the WRF model can provide useful guidance. This section becomes more problematic in terms of sustaining action and engagement, but it introduces necessary content and follows a repeated problem-centered pattern to ensure a degree of engagement. The final act is initiated by the second plot point, a section discussing the models limitations and caveats for using the model. The build up of model benefits is reversed and the task for learners becomes more complex. The ending consummation includes presentation and demonstration of systematic guidelines for overcoming the model limitations and recommendations for incorporating WRF model guidance in a suite of forecast tools for the best outcome.

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Obviously, there is no guarantee that any individual student is going to experience engagement in the way weve hoped and planned for. An engagement plot is something of a best case scenariothe one we are striving for by arranging the learning activities and introducing content according to narrative principles. There are many potential factors (poor instructional delivery, troublesome interpersonal relationships, and technical difficulties, for example) that can cause a students engagement to come crashing to near zero. The goal of instructional designers is to make a strong case for engagement that might overcome such factors, should they arise. Using an Engagement Curve to Plan a Learning Experience For further demonstration, lets now look at an example of using an engagement curve earlier in the process of designing instruction on a different topicthis time a hypothetical course on Instructional Strategies for Instructional Designers (a more common domain for readers). Using the engagement curve can help remind you to make the course more than simply a catalog of instructional models and theories, and even more than a practical exercise in applying instructional theory. Lets assume you have several goals for the course based on your personal beliefs about the role of theory in design: Design is situated, and theory has to be applied with respect to the situation, not rigidly followed. Instructional models demonstrate differing values and assumptions that should be explicitly acknowledged and considered before applying them. Whenever possible, theories should be learned through application, not merely as abstract constructs.

However, you also know that many students are looking for an easy-to-learn, cookbook approach to design, and may become bored or frustrated if you dont work to engage them in a demonstration of the value of taking a more open-minded viewpoint. Taking these goals in hand, you decide you want to develop better student engagement in the course than you have seen in the past, so you decide to employ the aesthetic qualities of conflict and anticipation to gain the buy-in you need, all while working toward a meaningful consummation that will remind students how much theyve learned. To help, you use a narrative diagram to create an engagement curve to aid your planning (see Figure 9.11). You look for a conflict inherent in the subject matterthe wide variety of competing theories that seem to contradict one another seems to naturally fit the bill. You decide to compound this conflict and hope to generate further anticipation for a consummation by demonstrating that conflicting theories can be applied to adequately

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address the same instructional goal, but with differing results (even while addressing the same stated learning objectives). So two natural plot points emerge. The first is the introduction of the second contrasting, but completely functional, instructional model (a form of peripeteia). This demonstrates that choosing an instructional model is not just a matter of picking it off the shelf based on well defined criteria. The second plot point, depending on your point of view, might be either the choice of the model that the learner will use for their own project or the activity in which students critique each others initial designs. The first establishes the parameters for all the remaining learning activities in the course, but the second establishes the next level of conflict to be resolved. In my diagram, I made the choice of models the mid-point, and the critiquing activity the second plot point. Catharsis is achieved when students present their designs, but perhaps more importantly in the process of watching each of the other students present their own designs. In this case, Act One is the activity of contrasting two divergent instructional models, Act Two is learning about additional models and choosing one to work with, and Act Three has students creating a design plan, critiquing each others plans, and reacting to the critique of their own plan. However one conceives it, the learning experience is more likely to become aesthetic as a result of including this diagramming activity in the design process.

Figure 9.11: An engagement curve used for planning a course on instructional models for instructional designers. Conclusions and Caveats

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Unlike most visual design notation systems, narrative diagrams provide a very broad depiction of the instructional design, rather than attempting to combine lots of details about the design in a single picture. They can be important as a tool for ensuring that the big picture of learning engagement is not lost among the numerous other details that vie for a designers attention. While notation systems that capture the technical details of an instructional design may lead to diagrams that appear elegant and complete, they may in fact show little care for learner experience. Like architectural blueprints, they can serve a critical need in the design and development processes, but they may also miss the exploration of final user impact that broader sketches and models can provide. As a visual notation system, narrative diagrams might be classified as informal (limited rules are imposed about how to use them), and falling at the conceptual level of elaboration (Botturi, Derntl, Boot, & Figl, 2006). They are primarily meant to help the instructional designer visualize and evaluate the design in a very general way during the early design phase. In other words, they are unlikely to be useful for relaying design specifications to a developer (although they might communicate useful information to a graphic artist, for example, about emotional or thematic intent). Plotting the experience early and at a high level will help to ensure that the learning experience will be an engaging one, before too many details are imposed that might constrain the goal of having a coherent, overarching learning narrative. In this way, when additional layers of detail are added it can be done in a way that supports the aesthetic experience, rather than attempting to impose aesthetic considerations onto a predetermined, non-aesthetic base. So narrative diagrams, like narratives themselves at times, are primarily reflectivethey are a mode of personal creative thinking that aids in the generative processes of design. But they are also secondarily communicativethey can help other design team members, such as subject matter experts or artists, understand the experiential goal of the instruction to aid in the process of making their own contributions. This places them high on the creative scale, but spread along the communicative scale, mostly clustering toward reflective thinking (see Figure 9.12).

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Figure 9.12: Classifying Narrative Diagrams as a Notation System (Botturi et al., 2006) Narrative diagrams fall on the low end of sophistication in visual representations, but their simplicity is deceptive and has an advantage in increasing their capability to represent fuzzy, difficult to conceptualize qualities. They would formally be classified as non-representational and as graphs (meaning they show values along two indices), although they are also diagrammatic in showing the chronological relationship of instructional events (Stubbs & Gibbons, Chapter 1.3, This Volume). The indices used (time and, in most examples provided, engagement) have some unique characteristics that make them difficult to quantify. In fact, it is interesting to note that the graph in a narrative diagram is indexical only in metaphorical terms. We think of engagement (or experience) as being at a particular level and potentially heightened, and so it is befitting that we plot it on the vertical or y-axis. Because we speak of time as an arrow or as moving forward, it is plotted logically on the horizontal or x-axis, but it isnt a scalar value in this case. While it could be drawn with equal lengths representing equal increments of time, this might interfere with depicting changes in the engagement axis in sufficient detail. For this reason, the time axis is depicted in terms of the learners subjective experience of time in regards to the learning events (narrative time). In other words, it may be useful to give some short duration events (such as a single class meeting) a length along the axis equal to entire weeks or more of other activities. The engagement (or complexity, rising action, etc.) axis (y-axis) shows a relative value and is of necessity speculative, incorporating many feelings, attitudes, and behaviors. It is plotted according to the intended relative level of engagement, which of course is also relative to each learner and each situation. Where you start the engagement curve on the y-axis would also be relative, and even though the diagrams depicted here assume an origin of near zero engagement for each curve, in

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objective terms this would likely not be the case for most students. Some may enter the experience full of anticipation and ready to act, and quickly reduce their engagement to more modest levels in finding the experience not so unique. If the instructor or ID is unable to maintain that initial engagement, the low point of this initial ebbing becomes the instructional point of challenge to raise it back to increasing levels, and therefore the beginning of the curve. In using any notation system, even narrative diagrams, one should be concerned about generating a false sense of completeness to the design. Because diagrams may appear visually captivating in and of themselves, a designer might be lured into thinking the final user is sure to experience the same captivation. This of course may never happen due to factors not considered in creating the diagram or due to learner characteristics beyond the control of the designer. However, this is no argument to avoid the use of a tool that can help designers grasp critical aspects of learner experience that might otherwise be ignored. Combined with other notation systems, as well as traditional tools such as design documents, storyboards, and content matrices, narrative diagrams of learning experience can provide a designer a powerful method of planning for the aesthetic experience of learning. An additional caveat exists regarding the use of notation systems. One cant forget that the final learning experience is the result of how the immediate qualities of instruction are executed, including responding to changing conditions and student responses that are difficult to plan for. Engagement or challenge curves are only a starting point in planning for the aesthetic experience of learning. They are akin to the quick sketch that is meant to guide the creation of a painted canvas or sculpted stone. Execution can make the difference between success and failure. Instructional design also requires craftsmanship in writing effective text, producing attractive and intuitive screen designs, creating instructive illustrations, and, perhaps most importantly, anticipating and reacting to student responses to the instruction in ways that reinforce learningeven when this means diverging from well intentioned plans.

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APPENDIX A SAMPLE INTERVIEW QUESTIONS How did you come to be a teacher/instructional designer? What drew you into the profession? How long have you been in the profession? In what capacities have you worked? Tell me about any guiding values or philosophies you hold about your practice. In particular, how do you view your relationship with and responsibility to your learners? How did you come up with the concept for this design? Are there any models or sources that influenced you? Are there any specific products or experiences that led you to this design? Were you influenced by any models or metaphors NOT from instructional sources? Tell me how you view the content of your module/course. For example, is it a set of well defined rules, or is it more complex and open to interpretation? How do you want the learner to engage with and to think about this subject matter? Tell me a story about an imaginary student who might use this module or be enrolled in this course. Make it a typical student, not an ideal one. How does the student enter into the module/course? What catches their attention first? What are they thinking and feeling as they begin? As they are near the middle of the module/course, what is their experience? What do they remember about the beginning? What do they anticipate about the end? What are they thinking and feeling now? Is there a turning point or climax that the student reaches during the course? Describe it(them). As they conclude, what are they thinking and feeling? What impression are they left with? What is most memorable about the module/course?

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Use a metaphor to describe how learners experience the course. For example, you may think about the module/course as either as a physical space the learners are exploring, such as a building, a city, or a park. What catches their eye as they first enter? How do they move through it? How do they exit? Think about the level of tension or engagement of learners as they work through the module/course. How does it change over time? Where does it change? What is that level at the very end? Now think about what it is about your course/module design that creates an initial impression or mindset in the learner. How do you use language to influence the impression or mindset of learners? Visuals? Color? Interactivity? Are there any surprises, conflicts, or disruptions that you purposefully want the learner to experience? How do you want learners to deal with or resolve these? What have you done in the final parts of the course/module to create a lasting impression? How do you wrap up the experience for the learner so they can feel a sense of accomplishment? People experience time differently depending on the situation and how they are engaged with it. How do you think learners experience course/module time when taking this course/module? How does that experience of time change over the duration of the course/module? In general, in what ways do you think that instructional design/teaching could be described as an artistic process?

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APPENDIX B RESEARCH EXPLANATION Research into Instructional Practice Educators may speak clearly about aspects of their instruction that reflect the psychological principles theyve read about, but when it comes to making decisions about presentation or structure where they have no psychological grounding, they often speak of intuition instead. They often explain that teaching is also a craft or an art, and allow that to suffice, assuming no further explanation is necessary or possible. Instructional designers may say, This decision is just aesthetics, meaning that another decision could have been equally valid. I suggest that some of these decisions are more effective than others, and that they are highly important in creating engaging and meaningful learning experiences. This study will be an exploration into decisions about the presentation and form of instruction made by teachers and IDs as they create instructional products and engage in classroom teaching, and an attempt to discover common elements in this aspect of practice and language to discuss it more directly. Much emphasis goes into describing the psychological learning principles that should be considered by educators. Instructional theories and models use these principles in prescribing strategies for effective instruction. But these are simply the seeds for actual instructional activities, and the educator also draws upon other sources in molding the instructional content into a form that will engage an audience of learners and create a meaningful learning experience. This project is designed to investigate these other sources. Divergent and even contradictory instructional methodologies (prescribed by psychology) have been shown capable of being equally effective in the hands of good instructors or IDs, leading researchers to the conclusion that we must look beyond method to discover the behaviors and qualities that are critical for effective teaching. One goal of this project is to uncover possible unifying factors that explain this puzzle about methodology. Research Methods This study looks at the decisions of teachers and IDs in diverse settings in an attempt to uncover the strategies they apply to enhance engagement and influence attitudes toward the content of instruction. To conduct this research, I will first examine the instructional products produced by participants, such as online course materials, instructor notes, class handouts, and/or descriptions of assignments, and then interview

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each participant to discuss the decisions they made for that specific class, course, or product. Questions will be centered on how the instructor or ID imagines a typical learner will experience the instruction, and how they considered this in making design decisions. Interviews will be recorded on audiotape for later transcription and analysis. A final report will be shared with participants for confirmation.

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APPENDIX C THE DESIGN NARRATIVE The following describes a possible representative experience of a forecaster working through the module, Using the AFWA WRF Mesoscale Model. Kim is a forecaster coming to the module as a required training assignment. Kim has less than a year of experience in the field, and feels she has only limited preparation for a module on Numerical Weather Prediction through her education at the school house. While she is dedicated to perform competently, she is a little skeptical about the need to learn what might be perceived as unnecessary details about numerical models. She is somewhat reluctant to complicate her forecast process, with its already significant time constraints, by including the need to analyze the performance of more than one model. 1. In the opening section, the first thing Kim encounters is a realistic case, the type an AFWA forecaster might experience in the field. She immediately perceives the relevance of the content and becomes engaged with the problem of sorting out the discrepancies of global vs. WRF model performance. She attempts the interactions, which she finds challenging because they ask her to think about the implications of the differences between global model and WRF guidance (which she is unfamiliar with). But because the presentation of the exercises is instructional, rather than test-like, she feels game to make the best guesses she can. What also adds to her comfort level in approaching this new content is that it supports what she already understands about the need to use a forecast funnelto start with the large scale (including global scale model guidance) and working down to the mesoscale. After reviewing the case, she feels she knows what to expect to learn from the rest of the module. 2. Kim enters the second section and finds it conveniently divided into 4 subsections, each addressing a key forecast problem (like the effects of topography, which she knows frequently makes model forecasts suspect), and how the WRF model offers improved guidance for the problem. The small divisions make it easier for her, because she is unsure whether she will get through the module in one sitting today. Like the opening section, the first page in the Topography subsection begins with a case example. It provides two model products (one global, one WRF) with widely different depictions of winds and vertical motion in the same region. Identifying the differences is relatively easy, but once again she is asked to consider the further implications for weather impacts, which is NOT so easy. But she is prepared from the opening case

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interactions to just make an educated guess and then learn from the results without embarrassment if shes way off. The next page is a very short continuation of the example, providing a couple forecast verification products and a brief explanation of why the WRF model forecast verified over the global model, not just in the details it depicted, but in its characterization of the event. The third page is a more traditional instructional presentation about how the WRF model offers a major improvement in NWP treatment of issues of topography (the traditional treatment is almost a relief after the previous difficult interactions). Kim begins to feel a growing, deeper understanding about how and when the WRF model will make a difference due to its more realistic depiction of topography. In the final page, her new understanding is confirmed as she reads about a few operational scenarios describing how other AFWA forecasters like her might use WRF data in their missions. 3. After completing the three additional examples of WRF improvements a lot more quickly than she anticipated, Kim begins the section on Caveats to Using Mesoscale Models. She wonders what those caveats might be, after just learning about several major improvements offered by the WRF model. She hopes the section doesnt complicate the issue too much for her, given that she is beginning to believe that the WRF model should become her primary NWP tool. The section is very brief, to her relief, but as she reads through the list she begins to see that she cant merely stick with the WRF as always more trustworthy. Shes going to have to consider its very real limitations and analyze the situation more completely, evaluating which aspects of the WRF forecast to trust, and which to be skeptical about. This adds work, but Kim is beginning to see another intriguing dimension to her job. Kim finishes section three quickly. But she is sure shell have to review the Caveats again, so she decides shell print that page out for reference. 4. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kim enters the final section and is pleased that it doesnt surprise her with its length. It appears to be merely a few pages of content about a problem that was introduced in the opening sectionhow does a forecaster deal with a situation in which a long range forecast is needed, but the global model beyond 72 hours disagrees significantly from the mesoscale model at 72 hours (which is its longest range forecast)? Shes already experienced such situations. In fact, theyre the norm rather than the exception. So Kim easily sees its relevance and hopes the section will help. She first finds an explanation for why she should begin to distrust the mesoscale forecast at these time ranges, and while it is a complex mathematical concept, it is explained simply enough she is confident she understands it. The rest of the section is a series of questions, a novel way to organize it, she thinks. The questions become a kind of decision tree or model thought process she can go through when faced with this problem. The scary part is that each question requires some rather thorough analysis of the situation, like evaluating the recent performance of each model, or thinking about

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the local climatology and the stability of the weather regime. These are all things she knows to pay attention to, but time constraints often means she does so quickly, and not very deeply. But after working through the questions, and the strategies they suggest depending on how you answer them, she understands even more why such questions are important. The final recommendations arent very specific, tend towards the mesoscale model or tend towards climatology, but the discussions make her appreciate why more specific recommendations are way too situation-specific to offer in a short space. This section, and the module as a whole, makes her appreciate the complexity of her role as weather forecaster even more than before, and motivates her to take up the challenge with new energy, armed with a deeper knowledge of NWP models.

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APPENDIX D TREATMENT A SURVEY The COMET Program 2007 Online Professional Development Study Using the WRF Mesoscale Model (A) Part 1: General Thoughts about Online Learning About You 1. What is your current duty title and duty assignment? (Include a brief description of duties.) 2. How many years have you been a weather forecaster? (Circle your answer to the nearest year) 0 1 2 3 4+ 3. For how many of these years, if any, have you had responsibilities that included forecasting for overseas locations? (Circle your answer to the nearest year) 0 1 2 3 4 or more 4. Have you ever been responsible for forecasts in southwest Asia? Questions about Your Experiences with Online Learning (Use additional paper or margins if you need additional space for your response) 1. How often do you use online learning modules (including computer-based modules used offline)? (Circle the best answer) This was the first time | 1 per year or less | 2-4 per year | more than 4 per year 2. State the main things you like about online learning. 3. State the main things you dislike about online learning. 4. What, for you, are the characteristics of a good online learning module?

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Your Evaluation of Online Learning For the following items, rate your level of agreement or disagreement with the following statements using the scale below: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 No Strongly Moderately Mildly Neutral Mildly Moderately Strongly Opinion Disagree Disagree Disagree Agree Agree Agree 1. Online learning can be an effective way to learn. 2. Multimedia instruction, when it includes audio narration and good graphic illustrations, is motivating. 3. Online learning is almost always boring. 4. I prefer self-paced online learning to attending classes. 5. I learn more in the classroom than while taking online learning on my own. 6. I prefer instruction that asks me to answer questions and solve problems. 7. I prefer instruction without embedded problems or questions I need to answer. Circle your answer 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

How important to you are the following potential features or advantages of online learning courses/modules? For these items, use the following scale: 0 No Opinion 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 1 Not important 2 Slightly Important 3 Moderately Important 4 Very important Circle your answer 0 1 2 3 4 0 1 2 3 4 0 1 2 3 4 0 1 2 3 4 0 1 2 3 4 0 1 2 3 4 0 1 2 3 4 0 1 2 3 4

Learning at my own pace Increased opportunities for review High quality graphics or animations Audio narration Opportunities to answer questions and solve problems Opportunities to revisit the training after completion. The ability to use them at a variety times and locations The ability to learn about topics in more depth than covered elsewhere

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Part 2: Your Experience with the Module, Using the WRF Mesoscale Model As you respond to the survey, consider the module and its contents as described in the section outline below. Section 1 Introduction: Using the New WRF NWP Model A scenario (with Sgt. Lorenz) demonstrating the complications of forecasting in Iraq when NWP models disagree, including several forecast exercises 2-5 Strengths of the WRF Model: (including Frontal Structure Depiction, Topographic Impacts, Forecasting Precipitation Type, and Forecasting Hazards to Aviation) Each section contains a brief scenario about forecasting in Iraq or Afghanistan, including several forecasting exercises, a description of how the forecast verified, and some discussion of WRF improvements 6 Some Caveats on Using the High-Resolution AFWA WRF A discussion of three basic caveats about mesoscale models, including several exercises that demonstrate the first caveat 7 Predictability Limitations A very brief section explaining why any model, including a mesoscale model, has inherent limitations 8 Longer-Term Forecasts: Making the Transition to Global Guidance A scenario (with MSgt. Charney) demonstrating how a forecaster approaches making a mid-range forecast in Afghanistan when the mesoscale and global model guidance disagree 9 A Checklist for Blending Mesoscale and Global Model Guidance A text-based checklist that provides strategies for transitioning between mesoscale and global model guidance when they show disagreement General Information 1. How long has it been since you completed the module? 2. About how long did you spend completing the module (your total time actually using it)? 3. In how many sessions did you complete the module (after stopping and returning much later in the day or on a different day)?

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Your Reaction to the Module In this section we are asking you describe your learning experience with the module. Our goal is to determine whether it was interesting, well presented, useful and engaging for you. You would be considered engaged if during the module: Your curiosity about the content grew as you learned more. You anticipated the answers to questions and solutions to problems posed. In general, you found yourself thinking a lot about the material and caring whether you fully understood it. For example, you may have reviewed pages if you were unsure you fully understood them the first time. You made significant effort to complete exercises and understand the feedback provided. You could easily imagine yourself in the positions of the characters in the scenarios. You were concerned about getting useful outcomes from the instruction. Some of the items below will ask you to evaluate your reaction in these ways. We want to know how well the module achieved its goals of both presenting solid, useful content, and stimulating engagement. 1. Which content or features of the module were most interesting or engaging for you? 2. Which content or features of the module were least interesting or engaging for you? 3. Which parts of the module were most useful for you? Which were least useful? 4. Would you recommend the module to your colleagues? How would you describe it to them if you did (or did not) recommend it? 5. What would have made the module more effective and more interesting for you? _______________________________________________ Using the graph below, rate your level of engagement within the module (see the definition above). Did it start high and then fall? Did it rise only at certain points? Did it stay high or low? Lowest engagement means the lowest you might have during any

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kind of instruction, not just the lowest for this module. Highest means the highest engagement you think you are capable of during any learning situation. In other words, you are not ranking sections. It could be that you may not want to use highest or lowest for any of the sections if your experience of engagement was moderate throughout the module. Below the graph, describe a few reasons why you rated your engagement the way you did. Do your best to remember how you were feeling during the module, using the module outline provided at the beginning of the survey to help you. Place an X in the box that best indicates your level of engagement during each module section. Unless you have just recently completed the module, we dont expect you to be completely confident in your responses. If you dont remember, do your best to guess based on what you do remember. Dont leave a section blank. Your Engagement Level Highest Medium Lowest 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Module Sections

In the space below, briefly describe what may have caused you to have the engagement level pattern depicted above. If you can be specific, do so, but a general description will also be useful. For example, how did certain sections or exercises peak your engagement or lose it? Did things get repetitive, making you less engaged? Or did certain repetitions make it easier to stay engaged? Did certain portions challenge you or surprise you, increasing your engagement at those points?

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_________________________________________________ For the following items, rate your level of agreement or disagreement with the following statements using the scale below: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 No Strongly Moderately Mildly Neutral Mildly Moderately Strongly Opinion Disagree Disagree Disagree Agree Agree Agree or Dont Recall Circle your answer 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

1. The module had a clear goal that it achieved. 2. I consistently gave my best effort during the module. 3. The story-like qualities of the scenarios helped to keep me engaged. 4. I had some powerful learning moments during the module. 5. I would enjoy taking similar modules in the future. 6. The module quickly captured my interest. 7. The opening scenario section (with Sgt. Lorenz) made me want to learn more. 8. The opening scenario section was useful even though it presented few facts about the WRF NWP model. 9. The opening section could have been eliminated. 10. I liked the challenges presented by the exercises. 11. I thought the problems in the module were too difficult. 12. It was useful to spend the time required to think about the exercises in the module. 13. I found the numerous exercises boring at times. 14. I wish the module had stated its facts and presented its forecasting strategies more quickly and directly, without so many exercises. 15. The middle of the module (sections 2-5) kept me engaged. 16. After a while, I found myself just working my way through the module without much interest. 17. The middle sections went by quickly.

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

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18. I became more engaged when I reached the sections on caveats and limitations of mesoscale models. 19. The module did not spend enough time on some topics. 20. I would have gladly spent more time on the module if it had offered more information. 21. I would have gladly spent more time on the module if it had offered additional exercises and examples. 22. The module length was about right. 23. I wish the module had been much shorter. 24. After finishing the module I wanted to learn more about the topic. 25. After finishing the module, I wanted to try out what I had learned. 26. I felt a sense of accomplishment in completing the module. 27. I felt the module came through on what it promised to offer. 28. I thought the module left some loose ends or had missing pieces. 29. The audio narration in the module was effective. 30. I would have preferred to read text rather than listen to the narration. 31. Audio narration is important for this kind of instruction. 32. I would prefer a printed copy of the module rather than taking it online. 33. The graphics and animations in the module were effective. 34. The graphics and animations made the module more interesting. 35. The use of case data and examples was effective. 36. I feel like using this module was time well spent. 37. I will be able to apply what Ive learned in the module. 38. Im unsure how useful this module will be to me. 39. What Ive learned in this module will help me forecast better. 40. This module filled in some important gaps in my knowledge about how to forecast with NWP. 41. I have already had opportunities to apply what I learned in this module. (Ignore this item if you are completing the survey immediately after taking the module.)

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 3 3 4 4 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 5 6 6 6 6 6 6 7 7 7 7 7 7

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

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If you can relate an example of how you have applied or will apply what you learned in the module, please do so briefly in the space below or send email to the research team at pparrish@comet.ucar.edu. _______________________________________________ This final set of items ask you to rate how you stand between two opposite opinions. They cover qualities of the module and your learning experience youve already evaluated above, but answering them will enhance our understanding of your reaction to the module. Place an X in the numbered box that best indicates the strength of your response toward the direction of your opinion. For each item, if you stronger agree with the statement on the left side, circle the 1. If you strongly agree with the right hand statement, circle the 7. If your feelings of agreement are less strong, circle the number best indicating that level of agreement. 1. The opening section 1 2 3 4 5 6 scenario (with Sgt. Lorenz) was of little importance. 2. The module never became 1 2 3 4 5 6 3. interested for me at all. I preferred to skip the exercises and go directly to the feedback. The middle of the module was boring. Time seemed to drag on while taking the module. The case exercises and examples took more time than they were worth. The scenarios were a distraction and took too much time. The ending left me unsatisfied 1 2 3 4 5 6 The opening section scenario was very important to the module. The module kept me interested throughout I preferred to spend time thinking about the exercises and making notes before viewing the feedback. The middle of the module strongly sustained my interest. Time went by very fast while I took the module. The case exercises and examples were critical to learning from the module. The scenarios helped me relate the content to my job. The ending wrapped up what I was learning and added to my

4. 5. 6.

1 2 3 4 5 6 1 2 3 4 5 6 1 2 3 4 5 6

7.

1 2 3 4 5 6

8.

1 2 3 4 5 6

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or asking, So what? 9. My experience with this module has left me dissatisfied with the ability of online learning to help with my professional development as a forecaster.

1 2 3 4 5 6

sense of accomplishment. My experience with this module has made me more confident that online learning can help in my professional development as a forecaster.

Final Comments and Information 1. If you completed the final quiz for this module, please provide your score. (Approximate if you do not remember.) 2. A report on the results of this survey will be generated that can be shared with those who participated. Would you like a copy of this report? 3. Do you have any additional comments to make, or do you have questions to ask?

Thanks for your participation! Your responses will provide valuable input for us as we produce future training materials.

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APPENDIX E DESIGN STORY EXCERPT WITH STORYBOARD The following excerpt skips the exposition stage of the story, presenting only a few key learner interactions told through a first-person internal monologue. (This module is available at http://meted.ucar.edu/norlat/snow/preciptype_case/index.htm)

Figure E.1: Initial Interface . . . I really like these case-based modules because its easier to see whether the content Im learning really applies to my work. I like the fact that right off the bat Im doing something, and not just reading or getting a lecture. Its great to see a case in New Brunswick this time. Too much of this training is so U.S. centric. I appreciate the audio narration as well because it means I can save the eye strain for studying the graphics, not the text. So far, the interface seems pretty clear, but I havent clicked on everything yet. Ill wait and see if I really need it all. A lot of times, these extra buttons are kind of superfluous.

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Figure E.2: First Question Well, the first question looks simple enough, but like forecasting, its deceptive. Id better look through all the data products they are making available in that yellow box. I hope all the remaining 15 pages dont make me look through so much data or Ill be here all night. Should I really use these Supporting Topics theyre providing, or should I just try to answer the question without them? Ive been forecasting winter weather for 9 years after all.

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Figure E.3: Supporting Topics Ok, Ill look at the supporting topics to see what theyre about. The first are just background maps and things I can refer to help me understand the case, but it looks like these others each take several minutes to study. It seems like really good content, and nicely presented, but Ive been working on the first question for 15 minutes now. Is this case going to take more than four hours to finish?! Maybe it will get faster as I get farther in. I hope so.

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APPENDIX F CONTENT MATRIX Table F.1: Hurricane Strike! Content Matrix

(module available at http://www.meted.ucar.edu/hurrican/strike) Notes: Worksheets for days 1-6 reinforce safety and science activities and content Weather Updates are provide for days 1-6 via the Television Weather Report available in the living room, and via office laptop Internet connection to storm tracking, satellite, radar, and text weather reports Scenario Elements Intro Safety Activities and Content Science Activities and Content

Begin your visit with the Castillo

family living in Ft. Walton Beach, Florida and learn about potential hurricane approaching Florida Tropical Storm Erin is heading toward the Bahamas and southern Florida, where a tropical storm watch is issued Family prepares their emergency kit for hurricane season Tropical Storm Erin has just been upgraded to a hurricane of category 1 and heading for Floridas east coast Family begins to prepare for low probability hurricane strike Hurricane Erin is still at category 1, heading toward the east coast of central Florida Ft. Walton beach is now near the western edge of a tropical storm watch area

Day 1

Pack the disaster duffle bag

Hurricanes and

Day 2

Tropical Cyclones: Learn when and how hurricanes form

Review the safety list over dinner

Create-a-Cane game: Discover the ingredients needed for forming hurricanes

Day 3

Day 4

Hurricane Erin has swept across central Florida and is now in the Gulf of Mexico. Four deaths have occurred. It is expected to gain strength and make landfall

Go shopping for emergency supplies Preparing the yard and home for hurricane weather Give Aunt Betsy evacuation advice

Aim-a-Hurricane

game: Experiment with winds that change a hurricanes path

Inside the Storm simulation: explore a 3D model of a hurricane

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Day 5

once again along the Gulf Coast. Ft. Walton beach is now within a tropical storm warning area Mandatory evacuation of some areas is issued, including the home of Aunt Betsy Hurricane Erin, now a strong category 1, is making landfall at Ft. Walton beach The family is not in an evacuation zone, but has lost power and facing severe winds and rain

Day 6

Day 7

The storm has moved inland and, while no longer a hurricane, poses substantial flooding threats People begin to return from evacuation shelters to their homes Farewell and visual summary

Danger Zone: Learn about the hazards associated with hurricanes Advise Camille and her friend Floyd about safety during the storm Safety Zone: Learn about hurricane safety Help Aunt Betsy return home safely

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APPENDIX G STANDARDS MATRIX Table G.1: Partial Matrix of Hurricane Strike! Content as related to Middle School U.S. National Science Education Standards
Relevant Standards Science as Inquiry Abilities necessary to do scientific inquiry o Use tools and techniques to gather, analyze, and interpret data Think critically and logically to make relationships between evidence and explanations Use mathematics in all aspects of scientific inquiry Where Addressed in Hurricane Strike! Aim a Hurricanethis exploratory game, with its accompanying questions (6-8) on Worksheet 3, engages students in an inquiry process to learn about the effects of wind belts and pressure systems on hurricane movement. Create-a-Canethis game also engages students in an inquiry process that allows them to "create" a hurricane by manipulating key conditions. Question 7 on Worksheet 2 relates to this activity. Storm Trackthis condensed collection of weather data depicting the life and times of Hurricane Erin supports the technology and data analysis aspects of this science standard. Worksheetsall six of the worksheets include questions that require students to analyze geographic and weather data. These questions support NSES category A.

Understandings about scientific inquiry o Mathematics is important in all aspects of scientific inquiry Technology used to gather data enhances accuracy and allows scientists to analyze and quantify results of investigations

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Physical Science Motions and forces Transfer of energy

Hurricanes and Tropical Cyclonesa basic introduction to the science, climate, and geography of hurricanes. Numerous pages in this "mini-module" relate to this NSES category. Aim a Hurricane this exploratory game helps students learn about the forces, such as wind belts and pressure systems, that control hurricane movement.

Science in Personal and Social Perspectives Natural hazards o o landslides, floods, storms hazard mitigation

Danger Zone and Safety Zoneall of the content in these "mini-modules" relates to important topics in NSES category F. Safety and Preparedness Exercisesall 7 safety and preparedness exercises in Hurricane Strike! (and their corresponding questions on the worksheets) are directly related to risk analysis and safety decision-making.

Risks and benefits o o o risk analysis risks associated with natural hazards personal and social decision making

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APPENDIX H E2ML ACTION DIAGRAM FOR AIM-A-CANE EXERCISE FROM HURRICANE STRIKE!
Aim-a-Hurricane Game Day 3, Science 1 Individual Students, Groups, or Entire Class (using projector) Learning Hurricanes and Tropical Cyclones mini-module Ability to predict the path of a hurricane in a (available on the office laptop after day 1) highly simplified environment. This includes stable, latitude-specific general flows of equatorial easterly winds and extratropical westerlies, as well as one dominant high and one dominant low pressure system creating anticyclonic and cyclonic rotating flow, respectively, which can have variable, but static positions. Appreciation of the difficulty of predicting hurricane paths. Understanding of the relationship of atmospheric flow pattern to high and low pressure centers. Knowledge of general atmospheric steering flows based on latitude. A developing interest in scientific problem solving. Various animated hurricane trajectories based on student input to initial conditions.

5th Grade reading level, Basic computer skills

Embedded Introduction and Instructions

Selection of predicted trajectories and summary conclusions in the Day 3 Worksheet. In this online game, the learner drags a pressure center icon (H or L) to one of four preset locations, drags an image of a hurricane to its starting tropical latitude in the eastern Atlantic, and then observes the resulting hurricane trajectory. Students are asked to retry the simulation to have the hurricane follow as many unique trajectories as they can. Duration: 20-40 minutes Within the online module, or downloaded to a local computer, either at a personal workstation or shared computer. Computer, mouse, and display. The Hurricane Strike! multimedia module, teacher guidance, optional links and resources listed in the module.

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Key
Action Name Roles Requirements Preconditions Input Procedures + Duration Locations Tools Tag Type Expected Outcomes Side-Effects Output

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