Advanced Methods in Distance Education: Applications and Practices for Educators, Administrators, and Learners, by Kim E. Dooley, James R. Lindner, and Larry M. Dooley. (Hershey, PA: Information Science Publishing, 2005, 305 pp., $65.95)
and
Advanced Web-based Training Strategies, by Margaret Driscoll and Saul Carliner (San Francisco: Pfeiffer, 2005, 458 pp., $65.00)
Famed literary critic and renowned sciencefiction and fantasy writer, C. S. Lewis, most notable among twenty-first century readers for his Chronicles of Narnia, once proposed “an experiment in criticism,” wherein one would judge books not only by what they literally “said,” but more so by “how they were read.”
His point was that too many worthy books were skipped over, forgotten, or dismissed because they remained captive of one set of readers’ idiosyncrasies, biases, or limited frames of reference. A work that was read by a diverse group of readers for a variety of reasons over many eras was, in some ways, his definition of a “good book.”
By contrast, a volume that was primarily accessible and, therefore, significant and meaningful, only to a narrow or select group of readers in a limited time period was, thereby, likely to be a “poor book.” (If you are interested in how Lewis developed and defended his thesis, check out his still-in-print An Experiment in Criticism [1961]).
Lewis was speaking mainly of fiction and poetry and books about them—after all, that was his disciplinary focus—and was undoubtedly thinking of volumes likely to have a longer shelf life than the majority of books that will ever be written on technological subject matters. (Does anybody read Marshall McLuhan or Alvin Toffler for anything but historical context or personal whimsy these days? Their value is not what they foretold about media, but in their social impact at the time of their authorship.) On the other hand, is there any reason why we might not adopt such a premise in examining, evaluating, and recommending the increasing number of books by distance educators who offer our growing field a snapshot of where our current expertise lies, and what constitutes “best practices”? Should we not consider not only what is said, but for whom it is said as we review and recommend resources?
Before us are two books that have 2005 publication dates, and both draw attention to the word “Advanced” in their titles. One must ask the question, “advanced” compared to or with what? Are they advanced chronologically when compared to extant textbooks and discussions about the issues raised within their covers, moving us forward with new knowledge? Or advanced in terms of expectations for their audiences— meaning, no introductory or amateur practitioners need bother? Or, simply, is “advanced” here simply a buzzword that really means something closer to “this is just the next book in the assembly line of publications about distance education—caveat lector”? Let’s consider the scope and coverage of both books individually, and then draw some conclusions.
First, as their subtitle indicates, Dooley, Lindner, and Dooley’s Advanced Methods in Distance Education: Applications and Practices for Educators, Administrators, and Learners is targeted to a wide range of endusers, and the table of contents certainly conveys that broad sweep. They group their contributors’ essays under six headers that suggest the potpourri of this volume:
Section I: Foundations of Instruction and Learning at a Distance
Section II: Adult Learning Theory
Section III: Systematic Instructional Design
Section IV: Technology Knowledge and Skills
Section V: Administrative Issues
Section VI: Future Directions
Like all anthologized books, the chapters tend to be a little uneven, reflecting the strengths (or weaknesses) of the individual authors in the specific subject matters addressed. As the authors confess, “Books that focus on the technology applications of distance education are quickly outdated” (p. ix). The challenge is: how do they propose to mitigate this obsolescence by the time their text gets to print? No mean feat. Yet, by and large, the authors do succeed in usefully identifying key issues under their chosen topic headers—though not with any elaborative depth. But at least one section, not surprisingly, one that is furtively focused on “Future Directions,” fails to deliver any convincing declaration. Considering that the book is now in my hands in November, 2006, and this review may not appear for several months, it is likely that readers of this review and therefore potential readers of the book itself already have more acquaintance with new trends and software innovations than their projections provide, making them worse than moot.
All of the anthology’s essays attempt to develop their topics with both tested theory and informed practice; in my view, sections I and V offer the reader the most multilayered and well-conceived content, providing condensed but comprehensive overviews of the factors and issues one must consider in launching, maintaining, and assessing a viable distance program. In the end, despite its title, Advanced Methods in Distance Education best suits an audience new to distance education; I can imagine using this work effectively in an online, graduate-level “Distance Education 101” course, supplemented by contemporary essays that fill in the gaps that the calendar inevitably creates for even the most conscientious researchers.
Driscoll and Carliner’s work, Advanced Web-Based Training Strategies, is a more ambitious and demanding work, whose subtitle, “Unlocking Instructionally Sound Online Learning,” is apt and prophetic, as both authors are to be commended for keeping faith with their audience to provide what they promise. Richly illustrated and copiously documented, this comprehensive work promises to hold an enduring place in the libraries of distance educators for its erudite and accessible treatment of key pedagogical strategies. In other words, it earns the descriptor, “advanced.” Its 14 chapters make the assumption that its reader has some experience in instructional design for distance education, and thus that their present work can thus challenge and improve while plumbing the whole gamut of topics that designers, teachers and administrators must consider in shaping a responsible “problem-solving” approach to design.
In Driscoll and Carliner’s opening chapter, “Using a Problem-Based Approach to Designing e-Learning,” the “problem-solving” approach they advocate has a “less dogged adherence to … research,” privileging, instead, “an iterative process” that “combines the needs assessment and design phases” that “takes advantage of the instinct developed with experience” (p. 24). The author’s summary of this approach is telling: “If design is a problem-solving discipline, then the best way to learn about design is by exploring the problems that arise during the design process, not by exploring the process itself” (p. 24). This premise informs the remaining 13 chapters, each one concluding with an “in practice” case approach to design that illustrates the techniques, tools, and assessments to be employed and the expected outcomes to follow. Chapter 3, on storytelling as a mode of instruction, offers an excellent example following a World Bank training project from start to finish.
The overriding value of this book is found in its methodical and meticulous recounting of the processes involved in designing, testing, implementing, and assessing a distance education curriculum. Thus, each “In Practice” chapter-concluding section delineates for a real world project (1) Intended Audiences; (2) Learning Goals and Issues; (3) Budget and Timeline; (4) Technology Infrastructure (i.e., platforms and authoring tools deployed); and (5) Results of the Course. These alone, as we used to say, are worth the price of admission. Driscoll and Carliner write lucidly and confidently, addressing subjects with freshness and respect that could be merely dull or forbidding. Each chapter taught me something new in a thoughtful and compelling way. And, while the examples in their work may, like those in other textbooks in a fast-moving discipline, become anachronistic, the conception and delivery of these authors will continue to provide us with a worthy model for subsequent publications.
With Lewis we perhaps can conclude that some books are destined to endure and to become the pattern for other, later books that emulate their versatility and demonstrative powers—and so they inevitably reach a wider variety of audiences. Others will have a shorter period of usefulness, will become “self-consuming artifacts,” because audiences will sense the need only to consult a chapter or two rather than engage the entire volume. By this standard, Dooley, Lindner, and Dooley’s anthology will assist fewer and with a shorter time period. But those fewer will be well-satisfied.
This is essentially Lewis’s maxim of judging books by “how they are read”—one genre lends itself to casual “consulting,” the other to in-depth engagement. Is one volume more valuable than the other? To answer rightly one depends on recognizing the needs and motives of the readers themselves. One thing is clear: we all continue to need help in decision-making about how best to design and deliver distance programming, and at all levels of the delivery process—from budgeting to staffing and on to instructional design to platform choice to assessment.
As resources multiply and diversify for administrators, instructional designers, and instructors of credit and noncredit distance course work, we must seek ways of acquainting students and colleagues “all at once” and “just in time” within this protean field; it is therefore crucial to be judicious in selecting and recommending texts and tools that capture the moment, yet in context. Driscoll and Carliner do “capture the moment” but are not captured by it. Perhaps that is the best definition of “advanced” we can muster for now.
