“Hey can I ask you a question?” I ask the unsuspecting student working behind the counter at the USF library.
She gives me an unsuspecting stare.
“Do you know if the new iPads that everyone seems to be checking out have a library app?”
“You mean an app for our library? No. Not that I know of. You just have to get on the website.”
“Aha. Thanks.” I walk away with my books, confused as to why, exactly, so much money was spent on a whole slew of touch-screen, mobile devices that serve no different purpose than the laptops you’ve always been able to check out.
Using an iPad without an app is, in a lot of ways, like making toast on a stove-top. Sure, it’ll work, but it takes longer and you might get burnt.
This is a typical problem, not just at USF, but one that’s observable most anytime new technology is introduced somewhere. The logic is simple: New technology may be all great and powerful – much like the Wizard of Oz – but if it’s not used for it’s potential, it’s introduction is undermined immediately. Like the man behind the curtain, the user finds that the smoke, fire, and other aesthetic wonders are just a gimmick.
Others, like Steve Wheeler, have said this better than me:
“The technology in any given school can be as high quality, shiny and compatible as you like. Technical support can be second to none, and all the support in the world on offer, but if the teacher is not convinced of its usefulness, forget it.”
If I had a dollar for every time he was right about technology and education, I wouldn’t have the immense amount of debt that I do today.
What he’s suggesting doesn’t just apply to teachers – it goes for University systems, administrators, and students commissioned to put technology in the hands of people who may need simple guidance on how to use it efficiently and advantageously.
Why not commission someone to design a USFLibrary app for the new fancy armory of touchscreen, easy-access tablets that countless tuition dollars were spent on? How about something that helps people navigate the stacks of (often) scrambled collections? Something that lets people collaborate with others in the library quickly? Place an order at Starbuck’s? Track the RFID’s that are already in all of the books, so they can be found when they’re lost in the oblivion of the sorting area? How about a real time map for the Bull Runner bus service? Or a weather tracker for the folks locked away in the upstairs dungeons studying hard for exams? How about a badge system that would encourage people to be better students, go to the writing center, or find other students in the library working on a similar topic so they could work together? Certainly USF has the financial and human resources to put something like this together without much effort. Certainly they have programming-savvy grad students who will kindly offer their indentured servitude for a deadline extension or a vitea line.
If you want to be a technology leader among Universities, that little extra push to make something work like it ought to work is what it takes.
iPads and phones – and other types of mobile technology – are not just about the “bells and whistles” or keeping up with the appearances; they actually do offer extended capabilities to students, staff, faculty that could so easily (and cheaply) enhance learner capacities, save time and energy, and disseminate information – which, lets be honest, would cut back on everyone’s stress level. Why take advantage of automation id we use it against ourselves?
All it takes is a little direction, a little know how, and a little digital literacy. Before you know it, the entire enterprise of going to a library, which is already disorienting and intimidating to many students, will change.
This much I know: Show anyone how to use an iPad once, and they won’t forget; provide them iPads that can be used the way they were intended to be used and you’ll start to leverage social media to an educational advantage.
How do I know? It’s already being done. Elsewhere.
That Extra Little Push: Providing Technology That Does What It’s Supposed To by Nicholas A. Riggs is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.