In the early days of interactive videodisc, we developers were enamored with the new technology. We pushed the positive and negative aspects of our feedback to the extreme. We’d show fireworks displays for every correct answer. Wrong answers garnered an actor coming onscreen making sad faces and saying, “I’m so sorry you got that wrong.” That negative feedback backfired on us, though. Our adult learners found the actors so entertaining, they’d intentionally choose wrong answers to see them! We learned to dial back the feedback intensity, saving the fireworks and faces for the completion of the entire quiz.
I’m distinguishing between assessments and straight instructions, here. We expect appropriate feedback with a quiz. At some point in instruction, though, the feedback gets in the way of learning. Even today, developers are inclined to show a slide that says, “You clicked the right button. Click ‘Next’ to continue.” or “That was incorrect. Click ‘Back’ to try again.” Why can’t the learner just be moved along in the process? Isn’t that positive enough? Why can’t the tutorial indicate a misstep and then just wait until the learner chooses the correct item? Isn’t that negative enough? What are we trying to teach here anyway? A new system or process? Surely it’s not how to navigate the tutorial… yet, that’s the net result of most of our feedback, how to move along in the lesson.
So I had unusual interest when I caught a rebroadcast of NPR’s Hidden Brain program, called, When Everything Clicks: The Power Of Judgment-Free Learning. The concept is to reduce all feedback. Borrowing a page from the dog-training profession, there’s no negative feedback… none at all. The only positive feedback is a “click” sound, provided by the trainer, when the learner (canine or human) maneuvers to the correct position to perform the desired task. No “Great job” or “You finally got it!” Just a non-emotional, non-judgmental indication that the sub-task is correct.
No one wants to be treated like a dog. But whether the instruction was for throwing a Frisbee, or performing close-in orthopedic surgery, the reduced feedback method was surprisingly effective with human learners. “Rotate your wrist until you hear the click.” “There.” “Click.” No distraction. No emotion. No frustration. (Give a listen to the podcast. It might just surprise you,)
Now, when I review an eLearning module, I’ve added a couple more questions to my review list, “Is this feedback really needed? Is it carrying its own instructional weight?” Though I haven’t sent anything back to a developer to be re-worked, I have started the conversation. I have modified the feedback in my own modules with an eye toward reducing the the starts and stops of excessive feedback and unneeded detours. This is the third flavor, “cut to the chase.”
I’ve reached an age where learning something new is its own pleasure. I don’t need artificial praise to keep me motivated. I’m able to stay for the long haul.
Besides, I would look pretty silly with my silver-gray hair and a star on my forehead.
