hendron’sdigest

I’ve watched a lot of TEDTalks, which by some accounts, are high-quality presentations. In many cases, the speaker is talking to a room of strangers. And for many of the speakers, they are well-established experts, entertainers, etc., who by the nature of their discipline, be socially removed from the audience.

In other words, they may not need to “connect” with the audience, on account of their greatness. I think of the Jeff Han video/presentation demonstrating Multi Touch interfaces (before the iPhone came out). That stuff was so cool, he didn’t need to sell himself.

But for many of us, when we present, we have the opportunity to interact with a real audience (unlike watching a pre-recorded TED Talk). And if we are really selling something (a product, an idea, or a new behavior), then it behooves us to interact, else we may not be very successful. (After all, we’re not all Jeff Han’s, with amazing new technology to demonstrate that appears to most as absolute magic.)

I’ve seen the opposite of connection happen. I think about this a lot, because I want to improve and get better. Here are ways I’ve thought about connecting in presentation-like situations:

1. Greet some of the people informally as they arrive.
2. Stand outside the presentation room and greet people, coming in.
3. Start with some questions to draw people in with responses.
4. Let people know you’re glad they are with you.
5. Provide some irresistible promises (“I’m going to make you very very hungry in the next 5 minutes…”)
6. Tell a story with humor or other strong emotions.
7. Aim to inspire change.
8. Always summarize to make sure folks know if they got the main points you wanted to convey.

I recently saw a presentation that was good, by most accounts from other attendees. It had room for improvement, for at least one reason, it “told” a story that wasn’t a story, really. A situation was shared, details that seemed important were shared, but… there was no real “story.” I bet this happens in a lot of classroom presentations, too. “Here’s the content, but we don’t have time to make a connection.” The connection may be the most important thing.

In my case, this “non-story” story was a presentation of facts. They needed to come out. But simply by changing the beginning, it would have been so much better. “XYZ is an amazing product, and let me tell you why.” Then the end would be, “What do you think? It did this, that, and that, too. And that’s the value we see in adopting this product, and I’d invite you to chat with us later to learn more.”

If you read that, you’re wondering, “well, what are the details about the amazing product?” You want to know. All because of a simple sell at the start.

It’s been some time since I’ve posted here. John (me) has been busy… I’ve been blogging about things I might just have well posted here at my VCU Blog or at work. But I wanted to write about something that didn’t feel right anywhere else.

In one of our classes, we were called upon to give presentations. I wasn’t really worked up over it, and actually was looking forward to it. I put a lot of effort into it, both practicing (which I rarely do), and making good slides. More than speaking, I actually like making slides and thinking up some novel ways to present my ideas, whether it’s text on a slide, a visual, or in this case, some charts (graphs).

Knowing that your peers would evaluate you was… nerve racking. Near the end, I actually noticed that my hand was moist, and that it was shaking, just a tad. This was bizarre, I thought, because I never get nervous speaking in front of others.

But was it my audience? Or was it the high expectation I put on myself to make it all go perfectly? It wasn’t perfect, and I knew perfection was a far, far reach. I was pleased, but days later, I felt… bad.

Two reasons. First, there was no immediate feedback. The immediacy of feedback is important. We took notes on each other and were to post them online after class to provide one another feedback. Now a week has passed and the mechanism for sharing isn’t yet live.

But more so, I feel bad after the experience because I’ve seen other presentations outside of this experience that have been… not great. Some have been “decks,” and others, real presentations. As one in our class said, “Now I feel like a presentation snob.” Where’s the love in hastily prepared visuals, or a talk that’s lackluster and boring?

We read Presentation Zen in the class, and despite my personal grumblings in having to buy and read the book, there’s been several important things that have stuck with me since the experience.

1. Presentations can/should be beautiful, and that’s okay. Garr Reynolds gave us permission to get aesthetic.
2. Emotions and stories can engage a listener.
3. The “handout”, if there is one, shouldn’t be the slides. This one is hard for me to deal with: being handed a sheet or sheets of paper. Provide the essential information in a digital format that I know where to come back to for it, or else give me the talk in a format with you.
4. You are the presentation. Information you convey is important, as may be the visual help through slides. But ultimately, you, and your experience you bring the audience, is the presentation.

I was interviewed by a colleague today in another school district about my views on technology and education. He’s working on his doctorate.

Being in my own doctoral program now, and studying specifically qualitative research, it was fun going through the experience of being the “interviewee.” But I realized as he asked questions, my “philosophy” of education has changed over time. 5 years ago, I don’t know if my answers would have been the same. My philosophy has changed, evidently, or if not pure philosophy, my thoughts on how to answer his specific questions.

And I think that’s good. I think we have to be flexible enough to let our thoughts on something evolve over time. I believe technology is an amplifier. I say that because I think the hot “tech” du jour is social networking. It’s a communications system (as opposed to a gadget) but it’s transforming the way our society operates, in some pretty significant ways. And it amplifies the messages of some of those who use it. Information comes at us in more volume, faster, than ever before, whether the audience is a single person or a group of thousands or millions.

Steve Jobs, who is a hero of mine1 growing up, described the computer as a “bicycle for the mind.” I think it’s the same sentiment, just a different metaphor. My point with amplification is that it can amplify both the good and the bad. Technology in itself, in the context of bullying or stealing encrypted secrets is far less about the “tech” than the behaviors behind it.

To that, I added that I’m a constructivist at heart. I’m not sure 8 years ago I would have said that. But today, I am.

1 I should add that I acknowledge that Jobs wasn’t a perfect man. But I admire his vision and his tenacity for fulfilling his own vision for perfection. We can’t always have perfection in what we do or even what we buy. But that focus, in that way, is a rare thing that occasionally deserves some admiration.

As part of VSTE’s activities, we support an “island” in Second Life. The work isn’t done by staff, but by a collection of dedicated volunteers who have built the island and run regular events inside the island. I was approached recently to speak with Dr. Manorama Talaiver from Longwood’s ITTIP on the use of tools such as Scratch to support the creation of games by students.

I don’t remember exactly when I signed up for my first Second Life account, but it hasn’t grown to the popularity level that I thought it might have…

I did not record the event, but this blog post is more about what it’s like to speak virtually, specifically in Second Life.

First, the VSTE volunteers did a fabulous job at helping me with my “microphone.” Having used SL successfully many times in the past, I wasn’t expecting problems. After a download of the new version of the software (called the Second Life viewer), and tweaks to my audio settings, I was in business.

Sitting in the luxurious online environment as definitely cool. I felt like I was on Oprah, or if you remember him, the Donohue show. People walk in the ampitheater, or else they fly in, bump around, and finally take a seat. It is definitely different than presenting in “a room” such as VSTE’s Adobe Connect Room or Elluminate. I’m not saying one is better than another, but SL is definitely a unique type of experience.

I was interested in reading several years ago (now) what Ray Kurzweil wrote about society using virtual spaces as a normal part of life… He didn’t specifically cite SL, if I remember, but his description wasn’t too-far removed from the virtual, 3D, almost game-like world SL offers. He wrote about how we might interact with friends this way, and even hinted at the possibility of someday being able to interact with virtual versions of ourselves (dead or alive) if we could finally figure out how to digitize our minds.

For educators, this environment is a tough sell, because there’s a learning curve involved in assimilating to the 3D environment, with the costumes, flying, and all. All I will say is if you live in Virginia, seek out our great SL team who often is to be found at our conference.

But personally I think having such a space for guest speakers and virtual conferences is an awesome prospect. I only wish we had more immersive environments, with a little mixture of a goggle-experience with Microsoft Kinect. How long until we can walk around, and experience a virtual world as a real, walking, talking human being?

They had it on the starship Enterprise.

Although, to be fair, Picard and company didn’t attend too many virtual lectures, did they? But how entertaining would that be?

I missed the opening ceremonies this year, but I of course heard about some of the highlights, including Sir Tim Berners-Lee. I think it’s cool he was included, and from this GIF, I can see they got really authentic, with him seated with an actual (real or fake, I don’t care) NeXT Cube and MegaPixel Display.

Yes, a little Steve Jobs for the Olympics.