The 2008 conference of Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL) in New York City should have sounded the death knell of the conventional educational conference. Sadly, it didn't, and there promises to be more debacles to come as the membership dues bill in my mailbox seems to indicate.
Such bloated, sponsor-driven conferences—packed as this one was, again, into the undersized New York Hilton and cramped, labyrinthine meeting rooms of the Sheraton across 54th Street—provide gasping testimony to what models of ineffective instructional design and inefficient knowledge transfer such meetings have become.
Evidence of bad design
Logistics. Venues that do more to restrict free movement of people than a lifetime of bacon double cheeseburgers restricts arterial blood flow—too many non-essential elements clotting together.
Lack of subjectivity in planning. Meeting room assignments seemingly made at random (that is, by hotel staff) without regard for reasonable expectations of the popularity of one session over another.
Hype. Session abstracts, written as a part of proposals and printed in conference programs, invariably overstate the goals of the session, representing an unrealistically ambitious agenda for the allotted time and all but guaranteeing disappointment.
Ignoble motivation. Presenters may be motivated by careerism more than having something to say. Such sessions are little more than, for example, a notch on a grad student's c.v. before she hits the job market. Perhaps serving the interests of enlightenment even less are the teachers presenting to justify reimbursed travel—the pseudo-scholarly junket. (In all fairness, considering the relative low pay of language teachers and those working for academic publishers, this is perhaps the most understandable motivation.)
Poor instructional design. The irony, nay, tragedy, of teachers perpetuating bad instructional design seems lost on no one but the presenters themselves.
What might make conference attendance all worthwhile, however, are a few unscripted conversations with peers or counterparts who may have sat through the same disappointing sessions, combined with a little time to reflect on fresh possibilities courtesy of being removed from the quotidian demands of one’s job, not to mention eating well on an expense account.
Power to the people
Imagine a conference free of bloated administration (and its like-sized fee), free of pretension, hype, and poorly designed and delivered bullet-point recitations that rarely risk enlightenment or stimulate thought or interaction. Imagine the TESOL unConference. This "people over process" approach, not wedded to a pre-determined agenda, can be seen in action at any number of technical conferences.
RedMonk’s Free Conference at JavaOne CommunityDay
BarCamp
BrainJams
Wikipedia entry
A description of the unconference from Digital Web Magazine:
Unconferences are gaining popularity in the high-tech community as self-organizing forums for idea sharing, networking, learning, speaking, demonstrating, and generally interacting with other geeks. The unconference format is based on the premise that in any professional gathering, the people in the audience—not just those selected to speak on stage—have interesting thoughts, insights, and expertise to share. Everyone who attends an unconference, such as those put together by organizations like BarCamp or BrainJams, is required to participate in some way: to present, to speak on a panel, to show off a project, or just to ask a lot of questions. As an event, the character of the unconference falls somewhere between that of a bazaar and that of an intellectual salon. It is, to borrow a phrase, a free “marketplace of ideas.” There are no themes or tracks to guide you, as in a typical conference; the whole event is centered on what might be called the discussion group. The ad hoc nature and the low cost of this forum (they’re usually free, compared to the hundreds of dollars needed to attend some industry gatherings) make the unconference accessible to many.