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Teaching Machines: The History of Personalized Learning
How ed tech was born: Twentieth-century teaching machines--from Sidney Pressey's mechanized test-giver to B. F. Skinner's behaviorist bell-ringing box.
Contrary to popular belief, ed tech did not begin with videos on the internet. The idea of technology that would allow students to go at their own pace did not originate in Silicon Valley. In Teaching Machines, education writer Audrey Watters offers a lively history of predigital educational technology, from Sidney Pressey's mechanized positive-reinforcement provider to B. F. Skinner's behaviorist bell-ringing box. Watters shows that these machines and the pedagogy that accompanied them sprang from ideas--bite-sized content, individualized instruction--that had legs and were later picked up by textbook publishers and early advocates for computerized learning.
Watters pays particular attention to the role of the media--newspapers, magazines, television, and film--in shaping people's perceptions of teaching machines as well as the psychological theories underpinning them. She considers these machines in the context of education reform, the political reverberations of Sputnik, and the rise of the testing and textbook industries. She chronicles Skinner's attempts to bring his teaching machines to market, culminating in the famous behaviorist's efforts to launch Didak 101, the pre-verbal machine that taught spelling. (Alternate names proposed by Skinner include Autodidak, Instructomat, and Autostructor.) Telling these somewhat cautionary tales, Watters challenges what she calls the teleology of ed tech--the idea that not only is computerized education inevitable, but technological progress is the sole driver of events.
Contrary to popular belief, ed tech did not begin with videos on the internet. The idea of technology that would allow students to go at their own pace did not originate in Silicon Valley. In Teaching Machines, education writer Audrey Watters offers a lively history of predigital educational technology, from Sidney Pressey's mechanized positive-reinforcement provider to B. F. Skinner's behaviorist bell-ringing box. Watters shows that these machines and the pedagogy that accompanied them sprang from ideas--bite-sized content, individualized instruction--that had legs and were later picked up by textbook publishers and early advocates for computerized learning.
Watters pays particular attention to the role of the media--newspapers, magazines, television, and film--in shaping people's perceptions of teaching machines as well as the psychological theories underpinning them. She considers these machines in the context of education reform, the political reverberations of Sputnik, and the rise of the testing and textbook industries. She chronicles Skinner's attempts to bring his teaching machines to market, culminating in the famous behaviorist's efforts to launch Didak 101, the pre-verbal machine that taught spelling. (Alternate names proposed by Skinner include Autodidak, Instructomat, and Autostructor.) Telling these somewhat cautionary tales, Watters challenges what she calls the teleology of ed tech--the idea that not only is computerized education inevitable, but technological progress is the sole driver of events.
316 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2021
29 people are currently reading
390 people want to read
About the author
Audrey Watters
12 books8 followersAn independent writer, Audrey Watters earned her BS in Social Sciences from the University of Wyoming in 1996 and her MA in Folklore from the University of Oregon in 2000
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
August 27, 2021
Today advocates for incorporating technology into America’s schools like to emphasize the novelty of their efforts to transform the educational process. While such depictions flatter the promoters of educational technology by presenting them as radical innovators blazing a trail towards a better way of educating students, it conveniently ignores the previous attempts over the past century to improve teaching through the use of devices in the classroom. In this book Audrey Watters recounts this long history of automating the learning process by describing these previous efforts and their outcomes, showing how similar those efforts were to the ones today, both in terms of the promises made and the results delivered.
Watters traces the origins of these efforts to Sidney Pressey. A member of the psychology department at Ohio State University, in the 1920s Pressey developed an “automatic teacher” that assessed a student’s knowledge through an automated process. Such a machine, he claimed, would free teachers from the more burdensome drudgery of their jobs, allowing them to devote greater time and attention to other aspects of student development. Though Pressey received some interest in his device, his efforts foundered thanks to problems with developing a successful production model and the broader impact of the Great Depression, which collapsed any market for such devices. Though IBM subsequently developed a “mechanical teacher” of their own in the 1930s and established a market for automatic test scoring, the faced the same problems as Pressey and with similar results.
In the 1950s, however, a new effort was launched by B. F. Skinner to pioneer an automatic process of instruction. A behavioral psychologist and prominent public intellectual, Skinner was inspired by a visit to his daughter’s fourth-grade classroom to develop methods and devices that would individualize classroom instruction and allow students to progress through the material at their own pace. While aware of Pressey’s work, Skinner believed that by using behavioral psychology he could develop a process that would prove much more successful than previous efforts. Skinner’s prominence, his connections as a Harvard professor, and the nationwide anxiety over the country’s educational progress stimulated by the Sputnik launch in 1957 combined to give his approach wide support. Yet while initial trials of “programmed instruction” seemed promising, over time the results proved no better than those of traditional classroom instruction, while the combination of the high costs of Skinner’s machines, the resistance to educational regimentation in the 1960s, and the growing opposition to Skinner’s behavioralist ideas during that period all combined to end his efforts to automate education.
Throughout the book Watters highlights aspects of the history of educational technology that remain highly relevant today. In recounting it she notes both the persistence of a cyclical process of educational innovation and how such efforts often stumble for reasons other than those of the traditional scapegoat of teacher opposition, as the complicating factors of the business of education technology and broader sociocultural trends often create obstacles too great to overcome. Yet she makes clear that the failures of these efforts are never total, thanks to the lasting impacts they leave on educational approaches and instructional pedagogy. Such lessons make Watters’s book well worth reading, as she provides invaluable context for understanding similar efforts today to remake education in America through technology. Because for all of the claims of novelty by their proponents, Watters demonstrates how their efforts often echo those of their predecessors in decades past, suggesting that in the end the results will be the same as well.
Watters traces the origins of these efforts to Sidney Pressey. A member of the psychology department at Ohio State University, in the 1920s Pressey developed an “automatic teacher” that assessed a student’s knowledge through an automated process. Such a machine, he claimed, would free teachers from the more burdensome drudgery of their jobs, allowing them to devote greater time and attention to other aspects of student development. Though Pressey received some interest in his device, his efforts foundered thanks to problems with developing a successful production model and the broader impact of the Great Depression, which collapsed any market for such devices. Though IBM subsequently developed a “mechanical teacher” of their own in the 1930s and established a market for automatic test scoring, the faced the same problems as Pressey and with similar results.
In the 1950s, however, a new effort was launched by B. F. Skinner to pioneer an automatic process of instruction. A behavioral psychologist and prominent public intellectual, Skinner was inspired by a visit to his daughter’s fourth-grade classroom to develop methods and devices that would individualize classroom instruction and allow students to progress through the material at their own pace. While aware of Pressey’s work, Skinner believed that by using behavioral psychology he could develop a process that would prove much more successful than previous efforts. Skinner’s prominence, his connections as a Harvard professor, and the nationwide anxiety over the country’s educational progress stimulated by the Sputnik launch in 1957 combined to give his approach wide support. Yet while initial trials of “programmed instruction” seemed promising, over time the results proved no better than those of traditional classroom instruction, while the combination of the high costs of Skinner’s machines, the resistance to educational regimentation in the 1960s, and the growing opposition to Skinner’s behavioralist ideas during that period all combined to end his efforts to automate education.
Throughout the book Watters highlights aspects of the history of educational technology that remain highly relevant today. In recounting it she notes both the persistence of a cyclical process of educational innovation and how such efforts often stumble for reasons other than those of the traditional scapegoat of teacher opposition, as the complicating factors of the business of education technology and broader sociocultural trends often create obstacles too great to overcome. Yet she makes clear that the failures of these efforts are never total, thanks to the lasting impacts they leave on educational approaches and instructional pedagogy. Such lessons make Watters’s book well worth reading, as she provides invaluable context for understanding similar efforts today to remake education in America through technology. Because for all of the claims of novelty by their proponents, Watters demonstrates how their efforts often echo those of their predecessors in decades past, suggesting that in the end the results will be the same as well.
December 21, 2021
This is some very interesting information pertinent to the continuing attempt by education profiteers to capture the market for the latest silver bullet that will ̶p̶u̶s̶h̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶n̶e̶w̶ ̶t̶e̶c̶h̶ ̶f̶i̶r̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶i̶l̶l̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶d̶o̶l̶l̶a̶r̶ ̶v̶a̶l̶u̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ "revolutionize student learning!"
The introduction and conclusion critique the modern education technology sector and its false history of education that pushes the inevitable "individualization" of education through turning much or all of it over to standardized software programs. We learn that the typewriter industry formed a lobbying/trade organization a century ago to push the idea that all schools should buy lots of typewriters to "modernize" education, and then the early still and moving film industries did the same thing. Each hot new education startup is repeating a timeworn pattern of attempting to access the huge "education market." Audrey Watters illuminates the fact that today's "miracle products" actually use modern euphemisms to mirror much of the behaviorist theory and practice of B.F. Skinner.
However, the narrative bogs down and drags a lot in the middle. The author is an education techblogger whom my brother and I both read and enjoy, but it seems like she didn't quite nail down what she wanted to make her central idea.
The long main chapters of the book unfortunately could easily form a different book titled "B.F. Skinner Was a Bad Businessman." Watters gets down in the weeds, detailing some earlier attempts at learning machines, but spending the bulk of her attention on Skinner's multiple attempts to license a learning machine to various private firms to mass produce and change the entire "technology of teaching" to an efficient behaviorist ideal. Skinner wrote seemingly one million letters, usually complaining, to so many executives of different manufacturing firms, other colleagues or rivals in the emerging teaching machine industry, and of course, his lawyer. A large section of the text consists of granular details from these letters about Skinner's failed attempts to produce a machine: specific terms of contracts, back and forths with companies over payment and literal nuts and bolts, theoretical functions of machines that were never built, discussion of travel plans and promotional tours, etc. Then we learn that Skinner ended up not being a major player in the field, despite his name recognition. His theories were influential, but his own licensed and/or endorsed machines never produced more than prototypes for limited testing.
The later chapters detail a number of other people and companies who actually did mass produce thousands of teaching machines and hundreds of thousands of books/lesson plans/units based on the multiple choice, check-off nature of the teaching machines. This section of the book becomes much more interesting, covering the various other machines and personalities at a much more readable 10,000-foot-level of detail, and much more directly addressing the apparent thesis of teaching machines and modern education teaching software being basically successive iterations of the same flawed ideas. Watters than covers the ideological opposition that emerged to the grand claims of "programmed instruction" which is still relevant and interesting. Though Skinner's detailed letters are still interwoven into these later chapters.
The hyper-focus on so many minute details of Skinner's business attempts really detracts from the central idea, which is too bad because it is a timely, important idea that explains a lot of the constant attacks on education. Skinner's lament "that his behavioral technologies were 'being kept out of schools by false theories of learning [and] teacher unions who are Luddites and are afraid that this is going of deprive them of their jobs" (pg. 232) could be cut and pasted from almost every modern critique of the school system by a tech guru looking to make money on his/her latest idea.
So fascinating ideas with a bit of a drag through B.F. Skinner's voluminous personal correspondence. I think many readers interested in the history of educational technology will find a lot of great history here while possibly skimming some of the Skinner parts.
The introduction and conclusion critique the modern education technology sector and its false history of education that pushes the inevitable "individualization" of education through turning much or all of it over to standardized software programs. We learn that the typewriter industry formed a lobbying/trade organization a century ago to push the idea that all schools should buy lots of typewriters to "modernize" education, and then the early still and moving film industries did the same thing. Each hot new education startup is repeating a timeworn pattern of attempting to access the huge "education market." Audrey Watters illuminates the fact that today's "miracle products" actually use modern euphemisms to mirror much of the behaviorist theory and practice of B.F. Skinner.
However, the narrative bogs down and drags a lot in the middle. The author is an education techblogger whom my brother and I both read and enjoy, but it seems like she didn't quite nail down what she wanted to make her central idea.
The long main chapters of the book unfortunately could easily form a different book titled "B.F. Skinner Was a Bad Businessman." Watters gets down in the weeds, detailing some earlier attempts at learning machines, but spending the bulk of her attention on Skinner's multiple attempts to license a learning machine to various private firms to mass produce and change the entire "technology of teaching" to an efficient behaviorist ideal. Skinner wrote seemingly one million letters, usually complaining, to so many executives of different manufacturing firms, other colleagues or rivals in the emerging teaching machine industry, and of course, his lawyer. A large section of the text consists of granular details from these letters about Skinner's failed attempts to produce a machine: specific terms of contracts, back and forths with companies over payment and literal nuts and bolts, theoretical functions of machines that were never built, discussion of travel plans and promotional tours, etc. Then we learn that Skinner ended up not being a major player in the field, despite his name recognition. His theories were influential, but his own licensed and/or endorsed machines never produced more than prototypes for limited testing.
The later chapters detail a number of other people and companies who actually did mass produce thousands of teaching machines and hundreds of thousands of books/lesson plans/units based on the multiple choice, check-off nature of the teaching machines. This section of the book becomes much more interesting, covering the various other machines and personalities at a much more readable 10,000-foot-level of detail, and much more directly addressing the apparent thesis of teaching machines and modern education teaching software being basically successive iterations of the same flawed ideas. Watters than covers the ideological opposition that emerged to the grand claims of "programmed instruction" which is still relevant and interesting. Though Skinner's detailed letters are still interwoven into these later chapters.
The hyper-focus on so many minute details of Skinner's business attempts really detracts from the central idea, which is too bad because it is a timely, important idea that explains a lot of the constant attacks on education. Skinner's lament "that his behavioral technologies were 'being kept out of schools by false theories of learning [and] teacher unions who are Luddites and are afraid that this is going of deprive them of their jobs" (pg. 232) could be cut and pasted from almost every modern critique of the school system by a tech guru looking to make money on his/her latest idea.
So fascinating ideas with a bit of a drag through B.F. Skinner's voluminous personal correspondence. I think many readers interested in the history of educational technology will find a lot of great history here while possibly skimming some of the Skinner parts.
August 29, 2021
I love Watters' writing and thinking, and would automatically sign up for any book, monograph or article she authors. And this book is very good--it is precisely what it claims to be: a history of personalized learning.
The focus is the scramble, mostly in the 1950s and 60s, to develop teaching machines, and the subsequent professional conversations about programmed learning essential to operating the machines.
Cut to the chase: in the end, commercialization wins and advertising (surprise!) is the platform that makes programmed learning--bite-sized bits of knowledge and skills, carefully sequenced--succeed and sustain its hold over modern public education. The machines (often nothing more than 'content' on rolls of paper, read through a window) had little to do with actual teaching or learning.
Watters told me more about B.F. Skinner than I ever knew (or wanted to know). The book slows down whenever Skinner shows up, and Watters makes you understand that she has seriously studied this man and found him pre-eminent in his field (and also crotchety and stubborn). We read his correspondence with machining outfits and sample his philosophical treatises. And after awhile, I just wanted to know what Audrey Watters thought, not B.F. Skinner.
Skinner and behaviorism eventually passed out of favor, but you can still see his influence in 'stoplight' behavior modification systems, and the disaggregated fact memorization still in use to boost test scores. The best parts of the book are the Conclusion and the Acknowledgements, and the occasional bit of snark tucked into what's mostly an academic treatise.
The focus is the scramble, mostly in the 1950s and 60s, to develop teaching machines, and the subsequent professional conversations about programmed learning essential to operating the machines.
Cut to the chase: in the end, commercialization wins and advertising (surprise!) is the platform that makes programmed learning--bite-sized bits of knowledge and skills, carefully sequenced--succeed and sustain its hold over modern public education. The machines (often nothing more than 'content' on rolls of paper, read through a window) had little to do with actual teaching or learning.
Watters told me more about B.F. Skinner than I ever knew (or wanted to know). The book slows down whenever Skinner shows up, and Watters makes you understand that she has seriously studied this man and found him pre-eminent in his field (and also crotchety and stubborn). We read his correspondence with machining outfits and sample his philosophical treatises. And after awhile, I just wanted to know what Audrey Watters thought, not B.F. Skinner.
Skinner and behaviorism eventually passed out of favor, but you can still see his influence in 'stoplight' behavior modification systems, and the disaggregated fact memorization still in use to boost test scores. The best parts of the book are the Conclusion and the Acknowledgements, and the occasional bit of snark tucked into what's mostly an academic treatise.
September 8, 2022
"These technologies foreclose rather than foster possibilities" (p. 253).
I love Audrey's storytelling, and I miss her work. Someday I will use many quotes from this book, and I'm so thankful for her work over the last decade. She has been my best teacher over the last decade or so. I feel so lost at the inter-section of caring so much about education and how I could not support myself financially as a teacher, so I became that which I am. Memoir forthcoming.
This book should be required by all Instructional Design programs--especially programs that champion the "professor-inventors" and "professor-engineers" and the glorification of "data collection."
I love Audrey's storytelling, and I miss her work. Someday I will use many quotes from this book, and I'm so thankful for her work over the last decade. She has been my best teacher over the last decade or so. I feel so lost at the inter-section of caring so much about education and how I could not support myself financially as a teacher, so I became that which I am. Memoir forthcoming.
This book should be required by all Instructional Design programs--especially programs that champion the "professor-inventors" and "professor-engineers" and the glorification of "data collection."
September 16, 2023
I came across Audrey Watters recently on Substack, where she's currently writing about the intersection of science, technology, and health and fitness. She mentioned that her previous focus had been technology in education and this book, Teaching Machines, was one of the outputs of that focus. My lukewarm reaction to this book is a case of my misguided expectations. I was expecting an examination of the science, psychology, and sociology of technology in the classroom. What I got was a history of a particular kind of classroom technology in the early to mid-20th century.
In the context of this book, a teaching machine is a typewriter-sized mechanical device that was intended to, theoretically, allow for personalized and individualized education of grade-school students. Based on theories arising out of behaviourism, a teaching machine would present educational materials to students on pre-printed sheets displayed through a small window on the device. It would ask true-false or multiple choice questions, which students would answer by pushing buttons or turning knobs. A correct answer would result in a pleasant light or sound (or sometimes even a candy!) and moving on to the next topic. With an incorrect answer, the machine would present the same topic again, but in a slightly different way. Either response required the machine to have gears and mechanisms to shuffle the papers inside it to display the next topic.
The bulk of the book deals with the efforts of two men to design, manufacture, and sell teaching machines. The first was Sidney Pressey, a professor at Ohio State University. Pressey had designed a testing machine as early as 1915, but it wasn't until the late 1920s that he began working with a manufacturer to mass-produce the machine. Unfortunately, the Great Depression killed the market (for that and many other products) before it really got going.
The second man to try his hand at designing teaching machines was the famous behavioural psychologist B.F. Skinner. Skinner worked in the 1950s and '60s, but with little more success than Pressey. Both men were stymied by manufacturers who couldn't build strong enough business cases to justify the expense of engineering and manufacturing these devices. Watters quotes extensively from letters sent back and forth between the inventors and their chosen manufacturing partners, with the inventors complaining about delays and suggesting new tweaks to the machines and the manufacturers assuring that they were still interested, if they could just confirm the strength of the market and find ways to reduce production costs. Unfortunately, these chapters, full of mid-twentieth century text from university professors and corporate lawyers, are rather dry reading.
One of the more interesting points to come out of this section is the rise of what was known as "programmed instruction". Any teaching machine needed those sheets of paper or paper tape that contained the educational content and test questions, organized in a way that could be delivered in small, bite-sized chunks that a student could go through at their own pace. This style of presentation eventually found its way into many textbooks, sort of like "choose your own adventure" books, but geared to educate rather than entertain.
The introductory and concluding chapters had a bit more of the content I was expecting in terms of the philosophy and science of using technology to teach, and I wish there was more of that throughout the book. I also noticed a higher than usual number of editing errors, mostly spell-check errors, where you know what word should have been used, but the spell-checker chose a similar-sounding but incorrect word for the context and the editors missed it.
I've since learned that Watters has also published books that consist of presentations she's given on education technology (see https://audreywatters.com/). I may sample one of those to see if that's more in line with my expectations. This book is good; Watters clearly did a lot of research and knows the topic well. It's educational, but, alas, not very entertaining.
In the context of this book, a teaching machine is a typewriter-sized mechanical device that was intended to, theoretically, allow for personalized and individualized education of grade-school students. Based on theories arising out of behaviourism, a teaching machine would present educational materials to students on pre-printed sheets displayed through a small window on the device. It would ask true-false or multiple choice questions, which students would answer by pushing buttons or turning knobs. A correct answer would result in a pleasant light or sound (or sometimes even a candy!) and moving on to the next topic. With an incorrect answer, the machine would present the same topic again, but in a slightly different way. Either response required the machine to have gears and mechanisms to shuffle the papers inside it to display the next topic.
The bulk of the book deals with the efforts of two men to design, manufacture, and sell teaching machines. The first was Sidney Pressey, a professor at Ohio State University. Pressey had designed a testing machine as early as 1915, but it wasn't until the late 1920s that he began working with a manufacturer to mass-produce the machine. Unfortunately, the Great Depression killed the market (for that and many other products) before it really got going.
The second man to try his hand at designing teaching machines was the famous behavioural psychologist B.F. Skinner. Skinner worked in the 1950s and '60s, but with little more success than Pressey. Both men were stymied by manufacturers who couldn't build strong enough business cases to justify the expense of engineering and manufacturing these devices. Watters quotes extensively from letters sent back and forth between the inventors and their chosen manufacturing partners, with the inventors complaining about delays and suggesting new tweaks to the machines and the manufacturers assuring that they were still interested, if they could just confirm the strength of the market and find ways to reduce production costs. Unfortunately, these chapters, full of mid-twentieth century text from university professors and corporate lawyers, are rather dry reading.
One of the more interesting points to come out of this section is the rise of what was known as "programmed instruction". Any teaching machine needed those sheets of paper or paper tape that contained the educational content and test questions, organized in a way that could be delivered in small, bite-sized chunks that a student could go through at their own pace. This style of presentation eventually found its way into many textbooks, sort of like "choose your own adventure" books, but geared to educate rather than entertain.
The introductory and concluding chapters had a bit more of the content I was expecting in terms of the philosophy and science of using technology to teach, and I wish there was more of that throughout the book. I also noticed a higher than usual number of editing errors, mostly spell-check errors, where you know what word should have been used, but the spell-checker chose a similar-sounding but incorrect word for the context and the editors missed it.
I've since learned that Watters has also published books that consist of presentations she's given on education technology (see https://audreywatters.com/). I may sample one of those to see if that's more in line with my expectations. This book is good; Watters clearly did a lot of research and knows the topic well. It's educational, but, alas, not very entertaining.
August 8, 2023
Confesso que me senti um pouco defraudado ao longo desta leitura. Esperava uma história das várias vertentes do uso de tecnologia na aprendizagem, entre software e hardware. Mas o foco do livro é mais estreito, contando-nos a história das máquinas de aprendizagem, dispositivos (analógicos, convém sublinhar) inicalmente desenvolvidos por Sydney Pressey nos anos 20, e posteriormente por B.F. Skinner (se o nome vos é familiar, é esta figura que os Simpsons parodiam com a personagem do diretor Skinner).
Estas máquinas eram essencialmente dispositivos analógicos de feedback automatizado para tarefas rotinadas. E é aí que reside o mais interessante neste livro, o mostrar-nos a filosofia de aprendizagem que está por detrás deste tipo de equipamentos, bem como as percepções sociais sobre educação que os sustentam. O método é sempre o de reduzir as aprendizagens a unidades essenciais, que o aluno tem de completar para ser bem sucedido. É uma forma redutora e mecanicista de encarar a aprendizagem, apesar de, claro, também ser um método com utilidade. Isto da aprendizagem não se deixa domar por visões unicistas, e quando alguém apregoa que encontrou a chave do sucesso educativo com base numa vertente, geralmente está a fazê-lo ignorando as outras vertentes possíveis.
O papel de Skinner aqui é especialmente inquietante, percebendo-se o seu princípio de condicionamento operativo aplicado aos sistemas educativos como algo essencialmente repressivo, negador de liberdades e diversidade individual.
Estas máquinas falharam, em parte pelas suas limitações tecnológicas, em parte por serem redutoras, e também por serem um tédio para os pobres alunos. A extrema mecanização educativa costuma ser contraproducente, e não é muito fácil convencer administradores escolares a comprar equipamentos cujo uso se esgota depressa. O que não significa que estas máquinas tenham sido um ramo decaído das tecnologias educativas. Bem pelo contrário, com mostra a autora, no seu capítulo final onde liga a história desta tecnologia esquecida com o panorama geral das aplicações tecnológicas educativas.
O legado destas máquinas de aprendizagem está vivo e de boa saúde, quer na tecnologia educativa, quer na sociedade digital. Muitos dos modernos sistemas de aprendizagem seguem os princípios de divisão do conhecimento em pequenas parcelas incrementais, e reforço positivo das aprendizagens. Nem o trabalho de Seymour Papert, que tem uma base conceptual totalmente oposta, o construcionismo, escapa na sua aplicação a este tipo de determinismo, primeiro na linguagem logo e agora no ambiente Scratch (embora a autora não refira que se a base de aprendizagem papertiana era, necessariamente, fragmentada, a abertura do que se faz com as ferramentas que inspirou é incomparavelmente maior ao mecanicismo da esmagadora maioria do software educativo, demasiado do qual se centra na ideia de treinar competências). Em termos sociais mais abrangentes, o behaviourismo skinneriano, com todo o seu cinismo e visão redutora do humanismo, é o que sustenta a corrente economia digital. A competição pela atenção, o constante reforço positivo dos utilizadores através de likes e outros mecanismos, que se torna aditivo e tem como objetivo último maximizar os lucros da empresa, não trazendo nada de enriqueceder à pessoa, são decalcados dos métodos de Skinner. E todos já vimos como a tirania dos likes está a correr bem, em termos psicológicos do indivíduo e na progressiva fragmentação social trazida por bolhas de informação cada vez mais extremadas.
Estas máquinas eram essencialmente dispositivos analógicos de feedback automatizado para tarefas rotinadas. E é aí que reside o mais interessante neste livro, o mostrar-nos a filosofia de aprendizagem que está por detrás deste tipo de equipamentos, bem como as percepções sociais sobre educação que os sustentam. O método é sempre o de reduzir as aprendizagens a unidades essenciais, que o aluno tem de completar para ser bem sucedido. É uma forma redutora e mecanicista de encarar a aprendizagem, apesar de, claro, também ser um método com utilidade. Isto da aprendizagem não se deixa domar por visões unicistas, e quando alguém apregoa que encontrou a chave do sucesso educativo com base numa vertente, geralmente está a fazê-lo ignorando as outras vertentes possíveis.
O papel de Skinner aqui é especialmente inquietante, percebendo-se o seu princípio de condicionamento operativo aplicado aos sistemas educativos como algo essencialmente repressivo, negador de liberdades e diversidade individual.
Estas máquinas falharam, em parte pelas suas limitações tecnológicas, em parte por serem redutoras, e também por serem um tédio para os pobres alunos. A extrema mecanização educativa costuma ser contraproducente, e não é muito fácil convencer administradores escolares a comprar equipamentos cujo uso se esgota depressa. O que não significa que estas máquinas tenham sido um ramo decaído das tecnologias educativas. Bem pelo contrário, com mostra a autora, no seu capítulo final onde liga a história desta tecnologia esquecida com o panorama geral das aplicações tecnológicas educativas.
O legado destas máquinas de aprendizagem está vivo e de boa saúde, quer na tecnologia educativa, quer na sociedade digital. Muitos dos modernos sistemas de aprendizagem seguem os princípios de divisão do conhecimento em pequenas parcelas incrementais, e reforço positivo das aprendizagens. Nem o trabalho de Seymour Papert, que tem uma base conceptual totalmente oposta, o construcionismo, escapa na sua aplicação a este tipo de determinismo, primeiro na linguagem logo e agora no ambiente Scratch (embora a autora não refira que se a base de aprendizagem papertiana era, necessariamente, fragmentada, a abertura do que se faz com as ferramentas que inspirou é incomparavelmente maior ao mecanicismo da esmagadora maioria do software educativo, demasiado do qual se centra na ideia de treinar competências). Em termos sociais mais abrangentes, o behaviourismo skinneriano, com todo o seu cinismo e visão redutora do humanismo, é o que sustenta a corrente economia digital. A competição pela atenção, o constante reforço positivo dos utilizadores através de likes e outros mecanismos, que se torna aditivo e tem como objetivo último maximizar os lucros da empresa, não trazendo nada de enriqueceder à pessoa, são decalcados dos métodos de Skinner. E todos já vimos como a tirania dos likes está a correr bem, em termos psicológicos do indivíduo e na progressiva fragmentação social trazida por bolhas de informação cada vez mais extremadas.
September 7, 2021
Really deeply researched take on machines for personalized/individualized learning, from about the 40s through the 60s. I particularly enjoyed and learned a lot from the early chapters, talking about the origins of some of the ideas for "programmatic" learning, and how Skinner became involved, as well as the later chapters synthesizing and critiquing the history and how has and hasn't impacted current ed-tech.
I did have some problems with the middle chapters, though, which led to my good-but-not-great rating -- there were about 100 pages that went into great detail on Skinner and others' efforts to get their machines build, sold, and used, which don't really add to Watters' thesis, and could have been cut by 80%. I skipped over a lot of pages of excerpts from angry letters from inventors to manufacturers, and if you read this, I recommend you do the same...
I did have some problems with the middle chapters, though, which led to my good-but-not-great rating -- there were about 100 pages that went into great detail on Skinner and others' efforts to get their machines build, sold, and used, which don't really add to Watters' thesis, and could have been cut by 80%. I skipped over a lot of pages of excerpts from angry letters from inventors to manufacturers, and if you read this, I recommend you do the same...
April 7, 2022
Great history of early machines, less so of computer-based instruction
The detail of the early machines and the failed attempts of their developers to have the machines manufactured and sold make-up the vast majority of what was included. The historical record is meticulous in detail. I was hoping for more on computer-based instruction. This topic seemed to be argued to be more of the same and lacked detail. For example, PLATO was a single paragraph. The summary chapter attempted a broad generalization to the work of Nicholas Carr and Soshona Zuboff which I thought was vague and poorly argued. Read for the history of the failed efforts of the early pioneers and the grounding in behaviorism.
The detail of the early machines and the failed attempts of their developers to have the machines manufactured and sold make-up the vast majority of what was included. The historical record is meticulous in detail. I was hoping for more on computer-based instruction. This topic seemed to be argued to be more of the same and lacked detail. For example, PLATO was a single paragraph. The summary chapter attempted a broad generalization to the work of Nicholas Carr and Soshona Zuboff which I thought was vague and poorly argued. Read for the history of the failed efforts of the early pioneers and the grounding in behaviorism.
January 23, 2024
At the end of the book, the author shares that she attended a seminar or course on book writing. I'd like to go to that seminar, as this book is so well-written, the story so concise & succinct, even if it mainly centers around psychologist B.F. Skinner's failed attempts to bring his "teaching machine" to market. While the narrative is mostly based in the time frame of 1920s to 1980s, it still echoes today. And worse, in my estimation, given all the technology used in education now that would not be tagged as "teaching machine" but all the aggregated administrative applications and databases.
January 5, 2023
Watters’s editors let her down. Her sharp analysis and beautiful writing come through in the framing chapters, particularly the last two, but most of the book is a tedious summary of Skinner’s archive. It reads more like a history dissertation (a student who hasn’t creates their analytical voice yet but is trying to show they’ve done the work) than Watters’s short-form writing which I continue to admire for its clarity and precision.
September 29, 2023
Traces the history of educational technology and how behaviorists have worked to standardize and automate teaching and learning. Watters shows how it’s important to remember that education is human and humane work. Educators would do well to consider how the ways technology tools are used can shape and constrain learner’s choices and agency.
abandoned
December 17, 2021I genuinely tried to get into this book, but I just couldn't do it. This is straight-up telling the story of Skinner's work (largely), without much in the way of application or analysis. I was yearning for more. DNF at about 100 pages.
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(I FEEL SO GUILTY.)
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(I FEEL SO GUILTY.)
August 23, 2021
'The story of ed tech isn't simply the story of tech.'
#DeZinVanHetBoek #ThePointIfTheBook
#DeZinVanHetBoek #ThePointIfTheBook
November 25, 2021
Insightful read that highlights that we hear today about Edtech was heard before. Why do we not learn from these mistakes?
January 25, 2023
追溯了自动化教学机器的历史。和今天的科技弥赛亚如出一辙，一种认为「只要收集足够多的数据，就能够把教与学自动化」 的观点。Watters认为这种想法的根源是控制论和行为主义（毕竟斯金纳是重要的推手）。对教学的行为基础没有特别多的洞见，因此这个批评大约停留在科技+市场至上论的层面上。
September 28, 2024
Valuable history, especially with AI entering education as the latest incarnation of teaching machine.
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