 Mae'n gofio i adeiladau i adeiladwyr i'r ddweud ffwrdd i gael i'r ddweud y cwmpwysgol. Rwy'n ei fydda i amser o Gweithio Odriod, yn siaradau yn cyflengいきn, ac yn ffaisiolaeth i'r ddweud o Odriod. Yn ddweud, mae'n ddweud yma i'r ddweud a'r ddweud i'r ddweud. Mae'n mynd i gael, ond mae'n ddweud, mae'n ddweud i'r ddweud i'r ddweud i'r ddweud, but sometimes it's really good to meet in person. I personally have been a huge admirer of Audrey's writing for a long time, primarily really just because she tells it like it is like it really, and there's not a lot people who do that. Without further ado, I'm going to hand over to Audrey. Can you find your room? Great. Well, thank you. I'm very honoured, actually, to be invited here to speak to you today. I recognize, especially when I travel outside parenting theolog for US, sort of what a sad shape educational technology is in my country and it's always nice to be at an event, an education technology event that I don't actually leave from thinking... Do I get to see my going in education technology? So thank you, I actually leave here feeling like it's not all doom and gloom but as I tend to probably go into the doom and gloom mode a little bit to talk to you today. Mae ydych chi'n rych a phrydych yn eich cyfathoedd cyffreddiedig o'r cyfledd o'r gyfreunion cyfeirio, rydych yn y cyfledd o drefnir sylwg ymlaen. Bydd e o'r bobl, o'r company ydy'r ffbarth, o'r oedd ffbarth o'r cyfweld, cyfoeth, o'r entrepreneur. Yn nhw'r draddастro cyfweld o'r cyfweld o'r ddysgu cyfweld sydd hwnnw, yn erioed gan ac yn gwneud o'r cyfweld o'r ddechrau, past, present, and future. Their talks, my friend reported, tended to condemn education's utter failure to ever adopt or integrate computing technologies. The personal computing revolution had passed schools by entirely, they argued. And it wasn't until the last decade that schools had even started to think about the existence of the internet. The first online class insisted one co-founder of a company I won't name, but has raised tens of millions of dollars in venture capital since then, and I'm sure you all know it, know it, and some of you probably work with it, was 2001, apparently, at MIT. And in fairness, I get it, these folks are not historians, right? They're computer scientists, they're artificial intelligence specialists, they're software engineers, they're entrepreneurs, but I think their lack of knowledge about the history of education and about the history of education technology really matters. And it matters, I think, because it's supporting a prevailing narrative about innovation, where innovation comes from. In this narrative, it comes from private industry, it doesn't come from public institutions, it comes from Silicon Valley, it doesn't come from anywhere else in the world. And it also is a narrative about when innovation comes. There's this myopic fixation on the future. The lack of knowledge about history matters, I think, because it also reinforces this sort of powerful strain in American ideology, and in the ideology specifically of the technology industry, that the past is irrelevant, that the past is sort of this monolithic block of brokenness that's unchanged and unchanging, right? Until it's disrupted magically by technological innovation, or by the promise of technological innovation, or by the future itself. This ideology shapes the story that many of these ed tech entrepreneurs tell about education and their role, of course, in transforming it. One of my favorite examples of this is Sal Khan from Khan Academy's video, The History of Education. He made it with Forbes writer Michael Noor back in 2012, and I would have to say that this is definitely a hate watch. It's hard to, yeah. It's the history of education from 1680 to 2050, told in about 11 minutes. So needless to say, it's sort of a very abbreviated history, and it's not called the history of education in the United States because we tend to sort of pretend like whatever happened in the US is really all that ever mattered. We don't actually mention in this history any other country except, of course, for the Prussians. It's really weird. Americans, I mean, Americans have, it's those interested in education reform and education technology have this weird fixation with the Prussians. Our current model of education says Sal Khan originated at the turn of the 19th century, quote, age-based cohorts that move through a, quote, assembly line. That's that lovely diagram at the bottom, apparently, with information being delivered at every point. This is the Prussian model, says the Forbes writer, and it's about as inflexible as the Prussians can be. But Khan notes there were benefits to this, right? This was the first time that we said we wanted everyone to get an education for free. And then Horace Mann came along in 1840, and really, this is how the video goes. And then Horace Mann came along in 1840, introduces the concept of free education to everyone in the United States. By 1870, public education is pretty common, but Sal Khan says it wasn't uniform. There were different standards, different curriculum. So in 1892, something that tends to get lost in history, the committee of 10, which sounds pretty Orwellian, quips the Ford writer, meets to determine what 12 years of compulsory public education should look like. It was forward-looking 120 years ago, says Noor, but what's interesting is that we've been stuck there for 120 years. Education has been pretty static to the present day, says Sal Khan. And then from 1892, we skip ahead 100 years, as one does, right? Straight to the invention of the internet. The mid-late 90s, says Khan, as he plots it on his wonderful timeline. The big thing here, says Noor, the Ford's writer, as they skip over, I'm sure nothing happened, right? As they skip over 100 years of history, is what you've done with Khan Academy. One person, one computer, now we can reach millions. It's revolutionized lectures, it's revolutionized homework, class time is liberated, adds Khan. It's changed everything. Khan Academy, founded in 2006, has changed everything, everything that has been static and stagnant since the 19th century. So see, this isn't really a matter of forgetting history. The history of technology or the history of education or the history of ed tech, it's not simply ignoring it. It's actually rewriting history, right? And what you can think about is either activist or accidental. To contend, as my friend overheard at that tech event, where as Khan suggests in this image, the schools have not been involved in the development or deployment of computers or the internet, for example. It means laughably incorrect. It's an inaccurate, incomplete history of computing technology. It's not simply an inaccurate history of ed tech. Take the Iliac one, this is the first von Neumann architecture computer owned by an American university, built in 1952 at the University of Illinois. The US likes to think it's first, but I actually think that University of Manchester beat them significantly. Someone should add that to the Wikipedia page, probably. Or take Plato, which was, again, the US likes to say, the first computer-based education system built at the University of Illinois on their Iliac machine in 1960. Or take the work of this fine fellow, Mark Andreson, now a powerful venture capitalist, almost not quite a billionaire, has several major investments in education technology who took the work he'd done on the Mosaic web browser when he was a student at the University of Illinois and used that to start his own company, Mosaic Communications Company, which eventually became Netscape Communications Company, launching the Netscape web browser and successfully IPO'ing in 1995. But I guess we've forgotten that something happened at a school with technology. The history of education technology is long, the history of education technology is rich, and it certainly predates Netscape or the von Neumann architecture. The history of education technology is deeply entwined with the history of computing and vice-aversa. And I could probably stop right there with my keynote because that's sort of the crux of my message, right? That there is this really fascinating, really important history of education technology that's largely forgotten, that's largely hidden, and it's overlooked for a number of reasons, some of which are sort of wrapped up in the ideologies that I've already alluded to. And this means that if we move forward to build the digital institution, the theme of this conference, right? We should probably know a little bit about the history of universities and colleges and technological innovation, and we should build from there. Despite all the problems that universities have, right? And my God, we know they have a lot of problems. They have been the sites of technological innovation, right? They are the sites of technological innovation, or they can be in pockets to be sure, right? In spurts, yes. Certain developments in certain times in certain places. Certain disciplines making certain breakthroughs. Certain disciplines always getting the credit for their breakthroughs. This is sort of the little humanity's person in these sort of railing against whatever. It's my own baggage. Certain universities get the credit for innovating. Even when, dare I say, what they're doing isn't actually that new at all. And it's not really surprising, perhaps, that the ed tech entrepreneur in my opening anecdote would credit MIT, right? With offering the first online class. MIT is one of those universities that consistently gets the credit for being an innovator. And perhaps he was thinking of MIT OpenCourseWare, which launched in 2002, as an effort to put the university's course materials online in a free and openly licensed format. Side note number one, it is really interesting that putting course materials online might be confused in this particular person's mind with creating an online course. I think it probably speaks volumes about his startup. Side note number two, he, this particular person, did actually attend MIT. Can I sort of figure out? Side note number three, actually Sol Khan also attended MIT. And I think that there's something about the MIT academic culture that is really significant here, because at MIT, really the culture is that you take advantage of the materials, you work with your peers, you don't necessarily need to go to class, as long as you can pass the assessments at the end of the class, that's what matters. You know, it's unlikely when touting who put the first class online that this particular ed tech founder from my opening keynote was thinking of Fathom. The Columbia University-led online learning initiative founded roughly around the date he has scribed to the first online course. And it's unlikely he was thinking about all learn, the Stanford Yale and Oxford University-led online initiative of roughly the same period. And it could be, because much like the movie Fight Club, the first rule of the history of online education seems to be we don't talk about Fathom, and we don't talk about all learn. And this particular ed tech start founder definitely wasn't thinking about UK e-university, because as with the development of technology, nothing happened outside of the US, right? We've forgotten all of that. Then those wonderful days, right, of the late 90s, the early 2000s, the internet, the Salcon notes excitedly, but we don't even talk much about that period these days. We don't talk much about the heady days of the dot com bubble. And I have to wonder how much we've forgotten. It could be that we're reluctant to talk about the dot com bubble, because some of us don't want to admit that we might be in the midst of another one. Startups, ed tech startups and otherwise, sort of overhyped, overfunded, with little to show in terms of profit, and in the case of education, little to show in terms of learning outcomes. What's implied, I think, by our silence about the dot com era, too, is that we know better now than we did then, or at least maybe the tech is better, or at least maybe we're not spending as much money on startups as we were then, or maybe now we actually care about learning, or maybe we care more about learners or something. And some of us don't want to talk about the tech and the ed tech failures of the dot com era, too, the failures of fathom and all learn in UKE University because of the shame of failure, right? It's not just Silicon Valley entrepreneurs that are sort of reluctant to confront this. I think industry and institutions, particularly Ivy League institutions in the US, have really buried those failures, which is a pity because I think there's a lot to learn from that moment in time. And I realize that many of you here probably know some of these stories, but I'm going to repeat them anyways. Fathom opened in 2000, closed in 2003, all learn opened in 2001, closed in 2006. UKEU opened in 2003, closed in 2004. Fathom, $30 million invested into the initiative by Columbia University, all learn $12 million invested from various schools and foundations. UKEU, 62 million, 62 million, 62 million pounds. Yeah, spent by the British government. By comparison, edX launched in 2012 with an initial $60 million investment from Harvard and, yes, of course, MIT. Coursera launched in 2012 with a total venture capital investment of $85 million. Udacity launched in 2012 with a total disclosed venture capital investment of $20 million. So again, this notion that somehow it's getting easier and cheaper to launch a startup in the 2000 teens that thanks to open source technologies and the cloud and OER and the like that we don't need to funnel so much money into these projects. Yeah, I don't know about that. Little way back machine magic. This is what the Fathom website looked like circa 2001. This is what all learn looked like. Here's what Coursera's website looks like today. edX, Udacity, future learn. Thankfully, you got rid of the pink thing mostly. And this is what happens if you Google UKE University. You end up at Yuclele University. So despite what, 62 million pounds of investment, you couldn't even bother to keep the friggin' domain alive. Awesome. And you can see I think some things have changed, right? You can sort of see improvement in web design. But really honestly, what's changed in the decade or so between the .com era online courses in today's versions? What's changed in terms of institutional involvement? What's changed in terms of branding? What's changed in terms of the course content? And what's interesting for me, what's changed in terms of the ed tech under the hood? What hasn't changed? What's stayed the same? The course content for Fatham and Allarn was pretty similar to what we see offered online today. Not really a surprise. I mean, this is sort of the make-up of your typical college course catalogue, right? There's a broad swath of classes from science and business and the humanities, professional development, law, journalism. 2000 courses were offered via Fatham, 110 on Allarn, 500 courses on Coursera, 25 on the UK University. Good job team. Really the technology hasn't changed that much in the intervening decade. And sort of sadly, the phrase content delivery system is still used to describe online education. The .com era courses offered quote, primary source documents, animation, interactive graphics, audio slideshows and streaming videos. Today's online courses look almost the same, despite their boasts about better assessment tools. This is the promise of robot, automated, essay graders and the like. Really it's multiple choice quizzes which are technology from the earliest 20th century is primarily the way in which most assessments work in these classes. The marketing pitch to students hasn't changed much. Online courses from the best, world's best universities. That's the tagline from edX. The world's best courses, that's what Coursera promises. Enjoy free online courses from leading UK and international universities. That's future learns promise. The world's most trusted source of knowledge that was Fatham. The focus then and now I think is on the prestige of the institutions involved. And they are in a lot of cases the same institutions. Stanford, Yale, Columbia. All learn short for the Alliance for Lifelong Learning stressed that its classes were just that. An opportunity for continuing education and for lifelong learning. Udacity stresses something a little bit different today. It's about advancing your career. It's about dream jobs. There's been plenty of hype, I think, about these new online platforms displacing or replacing face-to-face education. I think it's, again, it's part of this powerful political narrative that universities do not adequately prepare students with 21st century skills that employers increasingly will demand. But by most accounts, those who sign up for these classes still fall into that lifelong learner category. The majority in a lot of these cases of students do already have a college degree. And the question remains unresolved a decade later as to whether or not people will actually pay for these online courses or whether they'll pay for the certification to an extent that these initiatives can really become financially sustainable, let alone profitable. And that's even accounting, I think, for the massive increase since the early 2000s in the cost of higher education, particularly in the U.S., and now looks like we're exporting that elsewhere. From a 2002 New York Times article about the university's efforts to move online, lessons learned at .com.u, quote, college campuses and .coms have looked at the numbers and anticipated a rising tide of enrollment based on baby boomers and their children as both traditional students and those seeking continuing education. In short, the colleges have assumed that if they build it, the students will come, 2002. This is Daphne Kohler, the co-founder of Coursera last year, saying when she raised $43, another $43 million for her company, we hope it's enough money to get us to profitability, but we really haven't focused yet on when that might be. She echoes the sort of field of dreams reference, which I realize now is sort of a baseball reference, which is perhaps a bad reference to make in the UK, but maybe it's not the worst analogy you've heard so far of this conference. She says, you know, again, if we build it, they will come, right? She's admitted that her investors have actually told her that as long as you're doing the right thing, the good thing in education that profits will follow. Maybe they will, maybe they will. We can already see the pressures for Coursera, in particular, to find a path to profitability. It's raised, again, $85 million in venture capital, not from a university endowment, not from public funds, not from foundation funding, and the venture capitalists do like a return on their investment. In recent months, Coursera has shifted its executive team quite a bit. It actually added a venture capitalist from the investment firm Kleiner Perkins, Caulfield & Byers as president, and it added a former Yale president as CEO. Co-founder Andrew Ng has stepped away from day-to-day work at the company, although he does remain chairman of the board. The new CEO of Coursera, interestingly, Richard Levin, was at the helm of Yale in the all-learn period. He was actually the chair of all-learn as well. And you could assume, I suppose, that he must have some significant wisdom that he gleaned from the universities.com era experimentation with ed tech. He is an economist by training, so he must know something about the history of education, the history of technology, the history of the business of ed tech. Right? I mean, you'd think. But in an interview with the New York Times this spring, he offered this explanation as to why all-learn did not succeed, quote, it was too early. Bandwidth wasn't adequate to support video. We did gain a lot of experience of how to create courses, and then we used it in 2007 to create very high-quality videos now supported by adequate bandwidth in many parts of the world. With the open Yale courses, we've released 40 of them, and they have gained a wide audience. All-learn failed, he argued, because of bandwidth. The internet bandwidth in most homes was inadequate for the sharing of course material he contends, which is sort of weird, since all-learn actually made its materials available on CD-ROM as well, and like many sites in that period would actually let you toggle on and off high bandwidth content. I mean, the site recognized that streaming video might be a challenge, so it allowed people to actually download and watch content offline. And remember, all-learn was also marketed as lifelong learning. The pitch was made specifically to the alumni of these elite universities, as well as to the general public. The alumni would pay about $200 per course. The general public would pay about $250. The most expensive all-learn class was a creative writing class, which was $800. So I guess Levin wants us to believe that these groups of people, you know, Yale alumni, were unable to access the site because they had bandwidth issues. I mean, they somehow assumed that they would pay between $200 and $800 for a class, but they wouldn't pay for internet. Yeah. And this is something that my colleague, Mike Coffield, has questioned. He writes, all-learn folded in 2006, when broadband was at a meager 20% adoption. Today it's different, supposedly. It's at 28%. Are we really supposed to believe that in that 8% of the population is the difference between success and failure? Coffield also asks what Levin learned, actually from his experience with Open Yale, the ed tech venture that followed all-learn. By Coffield's calculations, these courses were created using $4 million of Hewlett Foundation money. The videos are recordings of class lectures, $4 million for 40 filmed courses, or, if you prefer, about $100,000 for a course of video lectures. Now $100,000 might sound pretty similar. That's the number that's often bandied about is what some universities are spending to create a Coursera class. So it is interesting that in this discrepancy between the costs and the revenue, there is this inability so far to find a sustainable model and that plagued the dot com era ed tech ventures. From a 2003 article in the Columbia student newspaper, Fatham spent money at an unsustainable rate. In 2001, Fatham burned through almost $15 million and generated revenues of only $700,000. And this is what plagues Coursera today. This is in part, I think, why history matters. Well, history in a little bit of humility, probably. It's not easy to reflect on our failures, right? It's not easy to reflect on the failures of the dot com era war to move forward. I think we have to. We have to in order to make progress. I think it's important to recognize as well, however, what are the successes of the dot com era? And remember that despite the failures of these high profile initiatives like Fatham and all learn these ones that came from prestigious universities, that there were other online efforts at the same period that didn't fold. There were ones that went on to become sustainable and that continued today. But I would argue as well that, sadly, one of the most significant successes of the dot com era financial successes is one that's left really an indelible mark on education technology, and that is the success of the learning management system, the technology and the industry. Learning management systems do predate the internet, of course, but it was the internet that became the big selling point for these. From the Washington Post in 1999, quote, Blackboard chocks up a breakthrough. It's educational software lets colleges put classes on the internet. That was several years I'd like to point out just to sort of rub it in before the story and my opening anecdote about MIT. But who's keeping track of who is first, right? The LMS, or I guess the VLE, as I should probably refer to it here, has profoundly shaped how schools interact with the internet. The VLE is a piece of administrative software. The word management, in the case of learning management, the learning management system is right there to remind us, sort of gives it away. The software that sort of purports to address questions around teaching and learning that really we find often times sort of circumscribes some of those possibilities. You can see the dot-com era roots in the VLE's functionality and in its interface. I mean, some of them still look like the same software that we were using in 2000. It acts as an internet portal, right, to the student information system and much like those old portals of the dot-com era, it sort of warns you whenever you want to venture outside onto the web, much like AOL. If you want to sort of venture outside the AOL portal, you get the warning messages that say, are you sure you want to learn on the worldwide web? Don't you want to stay inside the lovely information system here? You can access the VLE through the web browser, but it's not really of the web. It's a silo. It's a technological silo by design, right? And this isn't because the technology isn't available for us to do something different, rather I think it's a reflection of the institution of education. This silo works because I think we do still tend to see each classroom as a closed entity because we view each subject in each discipline as a closed, distinct, atomistic entity, closed, centralized, control in the hands of administrators, control in the hands of IT, control in the hands of the teacher, but rarely I think in the hands of learners. If you look at the most hyped online courses today, those ones offered on Coursera or edX, you see the influence of the VLE. You can see that each course is sort of siloed and separated in that same sort of way. At the end of the term, you lose access to your material. There's a tab in the LMS and a tab in the MOOCs that lets you see the syllabus and a tab for assignments and a tab for that wonderful invention that we still think is so wonderful. The discussion forum, right? The message board is 2014 and we're still acting as though the message board is this greatest breakthrough in adding a social component to our courses thanks to the learning management system, but it doesn't have to look this way, right? It doesn't have to be this way. There are definitely other stories that we could tell about education technologies past and there are certainly other paths forward. Again, there's this hidden history of ed tech and of computing tech and I think it's worth considering why we've dismissed it, why we've ignored it. The work of Ted Nelson, for example, the work of Douglas Englebart. The person that I always like to refer to is Seymour Papert. Computers argued Papert should unlock children's powerful ideas. That's the subtitle of his 1980 book, The Mindstorm, a book that I really do insist that most education technology entrepreneurs read before they talk to me. And I admit that his book does actually focus on children rather than adult learners. But the book addresses, quote, how computers can be carriers of powerful ideas and the seeds of cultural change, how they can help people form new relationships with knowledge that cut across the traditional lines separating the humanities from the science and the knowledge of the self from both of these. It's about using computers to challenge current beliefs, about who can understand what and at what age. It's about using computers to question standard assumptions about developmental psychology and the psychology of aptitudes and attitudes. It's about whether personal computers and the cultures in which they are used will continue to be the creatures of engineers alone or whether they we can construct intellectual environments in which people who think of themselves as humanists will feel part of, not alienated from, the process of constructing a computational culture. Computers, Papert, insist will help children gain, to quote, a sense of mastery over the peace of most modern and powerful technology and establish an intimate contact with some of the deepest ideas from science, from mathematics and from the art of intellectual model building, 1980. But as we see with the learning management system, ed tech has come to mean something else entirely. As Papert notes in his 1993 book, The Children's Machine, progressive teachers knew very well how to use the computer to their own ends as an instrument of change. School knew very well how to nip this subversion in the bud. Computer aided inspiration, that's what Papert argued we should build, instead of what's been, instead we've seen computer aided instruction. And we come full circle again back to what something I mentioned in passing at the beginning of this talk, Plato, programmed logic for automatic teaching operations a computer system developed at the University of Illinois in 1960s on its Iliac machine. Early versions of the Plato, and this is actually a later, this is actually a later version in early 1970s, had a student terminal attached to a mainframe, the software offered mostly drill and kill tutorial lessons. As the system developed, more and more sophisticated software was written, more problem-based lessons, a new programming language called tutor was created so that anyone could create their own modules. The mainframe supported multiple networked computers so that students could communicate with each other as well as to the instructor. This was a pre-groundbreaking stuff in a pre-internet, pre-web world. The network system made Plato's contribution to sort of this network system made it the site for the development of a number of pretty interesting groundbreaking innovations in computing technology, not to mention edtech. It is thanks to Plato that we have forums, message boards, chat rooms, instant messaging, screen sharing, multiplayer games, and emoticons. Plato was, as author Brian Deere argues in his book, The Friendly Orange Glow, Plato was the dawn of cyber culture. That is with so much edtech history, Plato's contribution to this has sort of been forgotten, mostly forgotten. We can still see the remnants of Plato in many of the features of edtech today, including, of course, one of the earliest learning management systems. And if the learning management system has sort of trapped us on one hand in a dot-com era when we think about how schools interact with the web, it also, I think, still carries forward this legacy of thinking about how we interact with the mainframe. And there are other legacies as well from Plato. One of the features that Plato boasted was that it would allow you to track every keystroke a student made. You could monitor and get the data on every answer a student submitted, right or wrong. That sounds pretty familiar. Plato offered efficient computer-based testing. Also, sounds very familiar. It offered the broadcast of computer-based lessons to multiple locations where students could work at their own pace. Again, pretty familiar. Indeed, by the mid-1970s, Plato was serving students in over 150 locations, not just on the University of Illinois campus, but in elementary schools, high schools and on military bases. And again, sensing a huge business opportunity, right? This notion of tapping into the giant education market, the control data corporation, which was the company that helped build the University of Illinois mainframe, decided that they were going to go to market with Plato, spinning it out from a university project to a corporate one. They charged $50 an hour to access the mainframe for starters. Each student unit costs $1,900. The mainframe itself, $2.5 million. The company charged $300,000 to develop a piece of courseware. So I guess it is getting cheaper to make courseware these days. Needless to say, Plato, as a commercialized, computer-aided instruction system, was largely a failure because who the hell has $2.5 million for a mainframe and $300,000 other than Harvard and MIT, of course. The main success that the CDC had was selling it as an online testing system to the National Association of Securities Dealers, the regulatory group that tests people to license them as stockbrokers. I love these little cycles of ed tech, right? And like the learning management system, this idea, however, of computer-assisted instruction has retained its powerful hold over ed tech. I think the history of Plato would show us that the history of the learning management system and computer-aided instruction are intertwined. Computer-based instruction, computer-based management. And I think as we move forward again to build a digital institution, I think we have to retrace and even unwind some of these connections. Why are we still building learning management systems? Why are we building computer-assisted instructional technology? Are current computing technologies demand neither, right? Open practices don't demand this. Rather, there's a certain institutional culture, a certain set of business interests, no doubt, that like this. What alternatives can we build on? What can we imagine, perhaps, a future of learner agency, a future of human capacity, one of equity, one of civic responsibility, one of openness that doesn't look like these previous versions of education technology? And I called this talk unfathomable, of course, because I wanted to thumb my nose at Columbia University and the failure of Fathom, and gesture, perhaps, to what we'll probably see in the next few years, which is some sort of failure of Coursera. I called this talk unfathomable, as well, because I think there's so much in ed tech that we've failed to explore, partly because we've failed to learn about and respond to and reflect on the history of ed tech. I think it's easy to blame technologists. I've made a career out of that. But I think that it runs much deeper than that. I think that there's a failure of imagination to do something bold and different, something that, to borrow, see more paperts phrasing, would unlock powerful ideas in learners, rather than simply reinscribing these powerful institutional practices, these institutional, traditional mandates. I think we can't move forward until we've reconciled some of these places that we've been before. Thank you.