A rose by any other name might smell better

"What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet." Shakespeare

New Jersey social studies teacher Steven Maher in his Infinitude blog entry "Say What?" believes the names companies give their Web 2.0 products work against them. You'll find the entire post a worthwhile read. His opening paragraph goes thus:

My interaction with teachers and administrators over the past couple weeks has reinforced a belief I’ve had for some time, the language associated with educational technology is one of the chief impediments to its application in schools.  We’re suffering because the host of Web 2.0 sites are trying to out-weird each other for attention.  What else explains “Diigo”, “Spurl” and “Moodle”?  No one appreciates these services more than me, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to talk about them with a straight face.  How can you convince someone that these tools are worthwhile when they have such ridiculous names?  Such drastic deviation from common language automatically sparks suspicion, it should be no wonder that teachers and education leaders are not incorporating them into the schools faster.  I’m as much a educational technology advocate as the professional presenters and consultants, but I have a great deal of sympathy for teachers who intrinsically know that technology must be able to help them somehow, but have a tough time accepting that it has the same value as things like the “Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature”, “Chicago Manual of Style” or Library of Congress. 

My nomination for stupidly named application is Twitter.  The very sound of it makes it seem inconsequential (fritter twitter my time away) and something that only a “twit” would do. Steven mentions Spurl - a portmanteau of spew and hurl, perhaps?

Would better naming give these tools more gravitas and therefore greater acceptance among educators?

 Nominations for the most ill-named application?

"Kind" comments

This morning I received the evaluation summaries for the two ALA pre-conference workshops I did in Anaheim last month. I don't know about others who take the craft of teaching adults seriously, but I give the evaluation comments I receive a great deal of attention. I bask in the complimentary ones and agonize over the critical ones. I really do. Participant comments are really the only information I have to help me improve my professional practice in presenting and conducting workshops.

At the risk of sounding like I am bragging, I am sharing three interesting, and to me, novel comments from the workshop on Web 2.0 tools:

• I really enjoyed meeting Doug in person. He's been kind enough to become an online mentor. He's as kind in person as virtually.
• Mr. Jackson [sic] was excellent, knowledgeable, humor[ous], and kind.
• Great presentation - relevant. Took the angst out of it all.
  

I don't remember ever being complimented before for being "kind." I don't remember feeling particularly compassionate the morning of the workshop. Nor do I remember any particular actions or comments that called for kindness. No one, like, broke down sobbing or anything.

I am just wondering if working library media specialists (and many classroom teachers) are accustomed to, but getting tired of, being beaten up by the "experts" at conferences. They are deflated when constantly told just how much they need to change in order to stay relevant. They are shell-shocked from being bombarded with comments that make them feel out of the loop, left behind, inadequate for not using at least 200 Web 2.0 tools, and lazy for not running a 24/7 virtual library/classroom.

Is the least degree of empathy for the practitioner now what passes for kindness?

I have to admit the Calvin and Hobbes cartoon strip from which this graphic comes resonates with me. In it, Calvin is offering at his stand "A Swift Kick in the Butt - $1.00." When Hobbes asks "How's business?", Calvin replies, "Terrible. I don't understand it. Everybody I know needs what I'm selling."

I suspect all of us in libraries and education, myself included, need a good swift kick. And, of course, would like to administer them fairly often to others. But do you suppose people get tired of being too often the recipients of verbal kicks? Doesn't your butt go numb after a while?

Ed psych tells us that rewarding good behaviors gets us a good deal father ahead with people than punishing poor ones. When do we start to apply this principle in creating change within the profession?

Or maybe I am just reading too much into a couple "kind" remarks...

Another one

What's the clue that I shouldn't feel special?