America's Next Top Information Professional

Yesterday was my Science Zine Workshop over at Woodward Library. We had an intimate group of mostly library folks, but an absolutely delightful time looking at zines, talking about what makes them special, and then making a zine together. I used a modified version of the Independent Publishing Resource Center’s Zines 101 lesson plan, and yes, we focused on science. You might not realize how thrilling this is for me — science zines are relatively rare in the sea of perzines, how-to zines, and political tracts.

We talked a lot about why authors might choose the zine as a format, rather than say, posting information to a blog or submitting an article to an academic journal. I have to say, I found myself making some comparisons to the instruction UBC Library does for English 112 students: when you look at a zine, think about these questions:

• Who is the author? (it may be anonymous or pseudonymous)
• Are there ads? (almost definitely not)
• Do they cite their sources? (rarely in a properly formatted bibliography, more likely in a “further reading” sort of way)
• What kind of language does the author use? (often conversational, sometimes spicy)

We also talked about why zines are a good forum for talking about science in particular. Zines can be used to break complex topics into more simple narratives. They offer a space to discuss something you care about without the pressures to meet any standards or uphold obligations to advertisers or other parties. They can be anonymous in a deep way: I can make a zine and leave copies on the bus and no one will ever know that I made it. It got me thinking about why *I* value zines so much, both as a creator and as a reader.

Thanks to everyone who came, and to my supervisors at Woodward who helped me put it together. We’ll be sending a copy of our zine in to the COPUS Year of Science Zine-a-Thon contest, so keep your fingers crossed.

Later in the afternoon, I went to the also delightful but otherwise dissimilar panel discussion on Video Games, Virtual Worlds, and Real Learning. A couple times throughout the presentation, I heard the statistic that in 2011, 80% of active Internet users will be using virtual worlds. (I didn’t catch the source for this number, if it was given.)

Eric Meyers talked about his research in virtual worlds specifically for children, including places like Webkinz, Woogi World, and Barbie Girls. According to numbers from webanalytics sites, the vast majority of users of virtual worlds are under the age of thirty, many of them between 5 and 15. Eric posed some intriguing questions: How can schools allow or benefit from these spaces? How do children understand truth and authority in virtual spaces? How . Where does the learning happen? He described spaces where kids make tutorials for other kids, helping shape the experiences of other users. Fascinating stuff that I had no idea about.

He also asked about the use of virtual world Second Life among folks in the audience. (Minimal.) He used the term “dead avatars” to contrast the steep learning curve in adult virtual worlds like SL to the low threshold for entry in child-specific sites. To be honest, the stories of new avatars running around naked and confused (or bored) has kept me from trying SL yet. However, our final presentation for LIBR 559M will be held in SL, and I welcome the push to get in there.

The other presenters were Kathy Sanford and Liz Merkel from the Faculty of Education at UVic, talking about their work with adolescent gamers. They focused largely on a crisis in (dis)engagement in schools: by looking at kids who are very, very engaged in their gaming, what can we learn about how they are not similarly engaged in school? It sounds like a fulfilling research project, they’ve been working with some kids for about 4 years now. There was some theory I didn’t completely catch onto, but I took down some titles. (Things on “complexity science” and emergent systems — sounds pretty adaptable.)

I also felt a little unsettled by their discussions of “survival of the fittest.” This was given as a model used in education, one that may be challenged by the kinds of cooperation used in video games. Hmmm. See, the misrepresentation of evolution is one of my personal pet peeves. I actually made a zine about natural selection this summer, intended as a pocket-guide to prevent the kinds of agonizing things that I hate to hear. Which includes the term “survival of the fittest.” Merkel rightly pointed out that Darwin never used this phrase, but I would’ve appreciated a bit more on what he actually meant by “fit.” Fitness, in the Darwinian sense, is not about being strong or fast. It’s about reproductive success: basically, you are considered fit based on how many grandkids you have. Which may be based on your strength or speediness, but could be based on all kinds of other factors. This is why we have developed all kinds of cultural adaptations to improve our lives — the competition for survival does not result in a simple throw-down where it’s every man pitted against every other.

This is a fairly minor quibble though, as their talk gave me a lot to think about. I appreciated their point that no two players experience exactly the same game — it is an individualized experience. They also emphasized the cooperation and creative collective action these kids use to improve their experiences. For example, one of their participants told them about a Halo party he had hosted, where he and his friends collected all the computers and TV screens they could find, so they could all play the game together. They ended up with more kids than space, so one kid played, presumably on a laptop, while sitting in the bath tub. It requires creative and collaborative action to have that kind of fun.