Am I a sherpa?

Am I a sherpa?

I have been looking at Dr Couros’ “sherpa model” (developed here and revisited here) as a metaphor.

The larger issue, of course, is the role of the teacher in this “new world” of web technologies and widely available information. For history (my discipline), the information is considered to be the facts of what happened in the past. At the professional level, that means very little – even the information itself is subject to question because of calendar shifts, interpretations of the events by eyewitnesses, etc. But at the undergraduate level, we can consider the events, people and dates to be “facts”.

However, doing history at the college level has never been about learning the facts themselves. It isn’t that the facts aren’t important — they are often considered to be the building blocks on which we construct interpretations and analysis. This is the level where the past becomes significant to the present, when one recognizes the patterns of historical development and interprets ones own world based on those perceived patterns. Along the way, there are methods to be learned, methods regarding source verification, breadth of information, critical analysis — skills we need for other disciplines and to lead an examined life in general.

So when it’s said that I know the terrain here, I do, in terms of both the facts (rocks, trees, ravines) and the methods (insert venomous snakes here). I can easily guide students through the historical events terrain, using storytelling and exploration of factual content. The question is whether, in allowing them their own explorations, they will encounter enough of the skills necessary to interpret the facts.

I would need to let them fall in some holes, step in some quicksand. But when they return, will they interpret these experiences as historians? It’s fine if I only care that they be learners, but I want them to be able to do history. That is when my job is important — I’m supposed to provide the structure that helps that happen. Doesn’t that mean I’m more than a sherpa?

Thus far I think I have been working, in my online classes at least, as more of a “curator” . This is a role discussed by George Siemens. As a curator, I am the one who collects the “content” — the course materials (books, websites, documents) I want the students to work with.

I don’t just do that, though. Each week I have students bring in primary sources (usually visual, video, some textual) that they find on their own, but which were created during the era we’re studying that week. They create the collection, then I guide them (skills only here) toward making their own historical theses. I don’t know what the metaphor is for this. Geologist? Collect your own rocks and put them all together and tell me what they say? It’s more sherpa-like than curator, but I am deciding where we go look and what kinds of things we look for. Primary sources only, please. No picture of women dressed as flappers at this week’s Halloween party — we need images from the 1920s!

To be a true sherpa, would I have to construct my classes in a form similar to Michael Wesch’s anthropology class, with pages of RSS feeds and students collecting items related to the class and putting it together themselves, collaboratively? I confess to nervousness about doing this, for several reasons. First, I have too many students to make it work, at least for the first time while I’m experimenting (that may be solved when my honors class gets offered – then I’ll have 25 instead of 40).

Next, what happens to historical chronology? The order itself is important to the discipline. We might be able to collect thousands of items from all over, but how can we have any historical knowledge at all if we skip right to mashing them up without understanding their context in their own timeframes?

So the question is this: can I still be a sherpa if I care about the structures inherent in using the content?

[Image credits: Alec Couros (Sherpa Image), Martin LaBar (rocks)]