The Trail of Knowledge

Tell the truth: you are secretly trying to dominate the world through some internet app thingy that you haven't quite figured out yet. As am I.

Amateurs. Bloggers are amateurs. Politicians are amateurs. Students in my class writing gibberish are amateurs. The latest new hires: amateurs. But we were all amateur at one point, right? So no big deal. Same story, different decade. You learn the rules, you adapt, you fit in, and everything moves along as smoothly as before. The older generation helping the younger generation develop their skills, attitudes, goals and dreams.

Except for a couple problems. First of all, the new guys coming in aren't really all that interested in what the old guys did. Sure, there's some value there, but it's the 21st Century, dude.

Second, that old guy isn't actually training the young guy in the way it is supposed to be done! Dang it! They've gone off and started their own company. Traitors.

I've observed this phenomenon among many if not all (to overgeneralize, and academics LOVE to overgeneralise!) professions as people move from the metaphorical cradle-to-grave within their community of practice.

It's the bell curve.

I suppose I could find a hyperlink, but I believe most people know what a bell curve looks like, so let's skip ahead.

In the beginning, there was the Novice. He made mistakes, not knowing what he was supposed to do. Think: left tail of bell curve. Then he became an Apprentice. The Apprentice knows the lay of the land, but still hasn't got it right. He's still learning from the masters.

The Journeyman represents the major area of the bell curve; this is where competence is defined and practiced. But futher ahead is a guy who is taking the tried-and-true and experimenting a bit with different approaches. He's the Wayfarer.

At the end of this Trail of Knowledge we find the Expert. He's sort of disinterested and fiddling with some new gadget. Maybe smokes or wears bad ties. But he knows this landscape. He's been over and under and around and through every pathway he can imagine. Other experts imagine different pathways, and they argue about that, but the level of confidence of the expert is so high it is sometimes hard to see past the size of that ego. But they're usually right, so that's worth something.

There's something else though of interest. The experts fall on that right-tail of the bell curve. What we might infer from that is the following:

To the untrained eye, what a Novice does and what an Expert does is the same. Huh?

Let's take the concept of "degrees of freedom" to illustrate what we're trying to learn here. A Novice shows up and is swinging his tools every which way but loose: many degress of freedom. Why does he do it? Because he doesn't know any better.

An expert shows up and is also swinging his tools, but with the kind of wizardry reserved for video games. And like the magician, sometimes he screws up. In fact, he screws up proportionally to the number of Novice screw ups. What's the difference?

You already know the answer: The mistakes the expert made were on purpose.

But why would someone make mistakes on purpose, you ask? Well then obviously you're not an expert. But to lift the curtain the point is this: experts need to push boundaries, question established ways of doing things, test and retest things again (but this time with different glasses), and then argue over what they witnessed. This is the essence of innovation. And the freedom of the trail, pardner.


Note on etymology--

Amatuer: a person who engages in work for the love of the work, not for the reward. May we all become amateurs. (Shh. Don't tell Payroll!)

iLove IT

I confess. I only started texting this year. About three months ago, in fact. Racked up a $200 bill the month I started and blew through those data limits. Now: no limits.

Went out, bought the new iPhone 3Gs, and maxed it out. Then started to play with the apps.

"Geepers," said I, after downloading "Stanza" and discovering that my $.99 extravaganza now obviates the need to look into getting a Kindle, which was the next new thing I needed. I could read a book on my iPhone. And I did. "Alice in Wonderland." I've used Carroll's mythical tale to describe information technology too. It's a vibrant theme. We pitter-pat our touchpads in amazement at what is happening in such a short time period.

Then my sturdy Nokia cell phone of 3+ years is sick. Then my Garman navigator craps out on me. All in the same day. Curiouser and curiouser.

To the point: the iPhone apps are market substitutes for many products; Kindle being one example. After the initial purchase, I have found that I will be saving money in the future while enjoying greater capabilities.

Anyone have some good iPhone app stories to share?