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Australasian Journal of
Educational Technology

2004, 20(1), 69-100

Instructional designers’ observations about
identity, communities of practice and change

agency
Richard A. Schwier

University of Saskatchewan
Katy Campbell

University of Alberta
Richard Kenny

University of British Columbia

We presume that models and theory in instructional design inform
professional practice, but theory has not been consistently built from the
professional experiences of instructional designers. This study draws on the
observations of five instructional designers who discuss their professional
identities, their communities of practice and their roles as agents of social
and institutional change. This study is embedded in two theoretical
positions: instructional design as a social construct that is expressed in
professional communities of practice, and critical pedagogy, in which
designers act as agents of social change.

Introduction
Instructional design is richly informed by theory, and much of the theory
is practical and applied. Instructional designers have been trained in the
theoretical underpinnings of their practice, and they use theory to inform
their work. But much of the extensive work describing theoretical models
of instructional design (ID) has not been drawn from the practice of the
instructional designer and, consequently, instructional design theory is not
grounded in practice. It is important to draw on the professional
experience of instructional designers, their personal understanding of and
values related to learning with technology, and the relation of these to
their practice.

The aim of the paper is to understand the roles played by instructional
designers as agents of social change in higher education. This study is a
preliminary investigation of the professional identities of instructional
designers and their communities of practice.



70 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

Accordingly, the study had three principal objectives, stated here as key
questions:

• How do instructional designers describe their professional identities;
that is, where do instructional designers draw their identities?

• Where do designers find communities of practice, and how do
instructional designers participate in communities of practice?

• How do instructional designers describe their roles as agents of social
change and transformation?

Context and literature informing the study
This study is embedded in two theoretical positions: instructional design
as a social construct that is expressed in professional communities of
practice, and critical pedagogy, in which designers act as agents of social
change.

Context

A cultural shift has been occurring over the past decade in education and
instructional design – a shift towards environments and approaches based
on the ideas of social constructivism. In this world view, learning is
situated in rich contexts, and knowledge is constructed in communities of
practice through social interactions. Cobb (1996) argues that knowledge is
not held objectively, but is unique, wholly subjective, and passed on by
establishing common ground between the knower and the learner. This
common ground must embrace interests and personal values, which
requires a sharing at both the socio-cultural and the cognitive levels
(Ewing, Dowling, & Coutts, 1998, p. 10). Constructivists are interested in
prior experience, but prior experience that is shared, through conversation,
negotiation, and construction of new knowledge products. In other words,
an individual’s (designer’s) practice, to which self reflection is critical, will
reflect his or her values and belief structures, understandings, prior
experiences, construction of new knowledge through social interaction,
and negotiation within professional communities of practice.

Communities of practice

The theoretical grounding for this study resides in the literature of
communities of practice. We suggest that understanding communities of
practice is central to the notion of a social constructivist view of the
practice of instructional design. There is a rich and growing theoretical
literature that explores essential characteristics of communities of practice
(Alani, Dasmahapatra, O'Hara, & Shadbolt, 2003; Palloff & Pratt, 1999;
Schwen, et al. 1998; Schwier, 2001; Wenger, 1998). We presume



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 71

instructional designers use communities of practice to learn, question,
critically analyse, reflect on, and negotiate their understanding of this
complex field of study. At the same time, we know very little about
instructional designers’ communities of practice.

Features of communities of practice
Kowch and Schwier (1997) suggested that communities are characterised
by negotiation, intimacy, commitment and engagement. Communities
create dialog among members “across the boundaries of formal power and
status.” (Heckscher, 1994, p. 142). They also achieve intimacy with other
members that satisfies personal needs through active engagement.
Intimacy and engagement engender a level of commitment to the
community and its members, and this commitment is often expressed in
an alignment of values and knowledge (Wenger, 1998).

Table 1: Elements of communities of practice

Element Description
Historicity Communities are stronger when they share history and

culture.
Identity Communities foster a sense of shared identity.
Mutuality Communities spring from, and are maintained by

interdependence and reciprocity.
Plurality Communities draw much of their vitality from

"intermediate associations" such as families, churches, and
other peripheral groups.

Autonomy Within the emphasis on group identity, it is important
that communities respect and protect individual identity.

Participation Social participation in the community, especially
participation that promotes self determination supports
autonomy and sustains the community.

Integration All of the above elements depend on supportive norms,
beliefs and practices.

Future Learning communities "open trajectories of participation
that place engagement in its practice in the context of a
valued future' (Wenger, 1998, p.215).

Technology In virtual communities of practice, technology facilitates a
development of community, but also inhibits its growth.

Learning Learning is a central element of communities of practice,
although the nature of the learning can be broadly defined
and contextual.



72 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

Elements of community
Communities, whether they are expressed virtually or interpersonally,
share some common characteristics. Selznik (1996) and Schwier (2001)
identified a number of theoretical elements shared by communities (see
Table 1). But these elements are theoretical, and to date have not been
confirmed to exist in actual communities of practice. This study begins the
task of exploring whether communities of practice in instructional design,
whether interpersonal or virtual, actually manifest these characteristics. Is
it possible that ID communities of practice emphasise some of these
elements and ignore others? Is it also possible that they exhibit unique
elements that are not included in this list?

Knowledge management and organisational change
The current interest in communities of practice grew out of an area of
study known as knowledge management. Knowledge management is a
term used primarily in corporate settings, to describe approaches to
managing intellectual capital, social capital and other learning resources in
organisations (Sumner, 1999; Takeuchi, 2001). Definitions of knowledge
management abound, given its relatively recent appearance; the term was
apparently coined by Karl Wiig at a 1986 conference sponsored by the
United Nations International Labor Organisation (Liebowitz, 1999).
Knowledge management is relatively new to educational technology
generally, but knowledge management systems have direct application to
instructional design (Spector, 2002).

Recent writers suggest that knowledge management isn’t even an
adequate term for what is happening in most organisations, and they
argue that most knowledge management projects are actually limited to
information management (Kimble & Hildreth, 2002; Wilson, 2002). This is
because they concentrate on coding, storing and retrieving information
and fail to consider people, and how they engage in communities of
practice. Our use of knowledge management to inform our understanding
of communities of practice is based on the idea that communities of
practice develop both intellectual and social resources — what the
knowledge management community would call intellectual and social
capital. Communities of practice are viewed as dynamic environments
where knowledge is created and nourished. Because “the production and
use of knowledge is deeply entwined with social phenomena” (Erickson &
Kellogg, 2002, p. 329), we suggest that the knowledge that communities
develop, and the processes they use to create the knowledge, are
inseparable.

Intellectual capital. Intellectual capital refers to the storehouse of knowledge
that resides in a community or organisation, and it is made up of explicit
and tacit knowledge. Explicit knowledge is formally articulated, public,



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 73

shared and is relatively easy to identify. In instructional design it includes
our knowledge of instructional models, cognitive design principles,
instructional theory and the like. Tacit knowledge, by comparison, is not
formally articulated. It is privately held by members of the community,
and is difficult to articulate and is not necessarily shared. In instructional
design, tacit knowledge includes approaches designers have learned by
experience or particular skills they have developed that aren’t part of the
public professional discourse.

It is one goal of knowledge management projects to transform tacit
knowledge into explicit knowledge so that it can be shared and used in the
larger community (Kulki & Kosonen, 2001; McInerney, 2002; Schwen,
Kalman, Hara & Kisling, 1998). In some cases, tacit knowledge is held
subconsciously — community members may not recognise knowledge
they hold as significant. It is possible that instructional designers have
learned a great deal of craft knowledge that is never shared with the larger
ID community because it is so deeply held and dynamic, and because
there are few organised channels for sharing this kind of knowledge (Hill
et al., in press; McInerney, 2002).

Social capital. Brown and Duguid (1991) and later, Hung and Nichani
(2002) emphasised that learner engagement is vital for learning to take
place, and that there are three principal ways in which learning takes place
in a community: event driven learning; socially driven learning; and
identity driven learning. If social processes are at the centre of how
communities of practice operate, then successful communities of practice
need to be sensitive to visibility, awareness, accountability, language
differences and culture, and they need to emphasise people over
technology (Erickson & Kellog, 2002; Millen, Fontaine & Muller, 2002;
Wenger, McDermott & Snyder, 2002). Systems need to promote
engagement among participants, and promote the co-construction of
knowledge, and this extends well beyond the information management
and traditional approaches used in most “quasi” communities (Hung &
Nichani, 2002; Nikols, 2003). We suggest that it includes promoting the
development of social capital in the organisation.

Social capital is defined in different ways, but the definitions share
common themes (Daniel, McCalla & Schwier, 2002). Social capital is the
glue that holds a community of practice together. It includes the stock of
active connections among people, and it involves trust, mutual
understanding, respect and shared values and behaviours within a
community. It binds people as members of human networks and
communities and makes cooperative action possible (Cohen & Prusak
2001). Social capital is a residual side effect of social interaction within a
community and it facilitates future interactions among participants.



74 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

Some scholars have gone so far as to attempt to create measures of social
capital (e.g., Fukuyama, 1999), but the resultant formulae are of theoretical,
not practical, interest. Employing a less rigorous but more useful
approach, Lessor and Storck (2001) stated that communities of practice
serve as engines for the development of social capital. They identified four
performance outcomes that were associated with communities of practice
and that were linked to social capital: connections among practitioners
who may or may not be co-located; relationships that build trust and
mutual obligation; shared language; and, shared context.

Social change agency and ID
A knowledge management view of instructional design places designers
in the role of knowledge managers in higher education. They routinely
work with teams made up of clients and a variety of professionals to
uncover tacit knowledge and make it explicit for the purpose of training
and education.

On a larger scale, we believe that instructional designers are actually
engaging in a process of professional and personal transformation that has
the potential to transform the institution. Rogoff (1990) argues that
participation in learning hinges on communication between people in a
group, in terms of shared understanding or shared thinking. Glaser (1991),
Ewing et al. (1998), and others (cf. Jonassen et al., 1997; Kanuka and
Anderson, 1998) believe that learning is most effective if it is embedded in
social experience, and if it is situated in authentic problem solving contexts
entailing cognitive demands relevant for coping with real life situations,
and occurs through social intercourse. The instructional design process, in
which designers and others develop new ideas and understandings
through conversation, may be a form of cultural learning or collaborative
learning. These collaborations, however formed, may express themselves
as communities of practice.

Through the multi-faceted lens of professional practice, communities of
practice, and knowledge management, we hope to gain insight into the
roles played by instructional designers as agents of social change in
institutions of higher education.

Research protocol
This study was constructed as a disciplined inquiry using a grounded
theory approach, and the research protocol was designed to actively
engage designers in the research process. Grounded theory methodology
(Strauss & Corbin, 1997; 1998) was used in this study because we
acknowledged:



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 75

1. The need to ground the theory in data in order to fully explain the
complexity and variability of the phenomena.

2. That instructional designers take an active role in responding to
problematic situations;

3. That instructional designers act on the basis of meaning.
4. That meaning is defined and redefined through interaction.
5. A sensitivity to the evolving and unfolding nature of events (process).
6. The importance of interrelationships among conditions (structure),

responses (process), and consequences.

While an “emergent fit” strategy was used in this study, the theoretical
perspectives of communities of practice and knowledge management
constituted a starting place for exploring the process of finding meaning.
Therefore, as the instructional designers’ stories unfolded, the emerging
themes were compared and contrasted with the literature using constant
comparative analysis, and caution was taken to ensure that theoretical
views were not imposed on the data.

Sources of data included interviews with instructional designers, email,
and group meetings and/or focus groups. Primary data were gathered
though semi-structured interviews with five individual instructional
designers from four different organisations, each of which lasted from one
to three hours in duration, follow up conversations using email, and from
a focus group of eight instructional designers at one organisation, that
lasted approximately one hour. One participant was unavailable for a face
to face interview, so that interview was conducted via email. Initial
interview questions were developed based on variables drawn from
literature on communities of practice and knowledge management.
Additional questions were developed using the language of participants to
add detail and clarify their meanings.

Participants were sent interview questions ahead of time, but participants
were not required to confine themselves to these questions, nor were they
required to address all of them. Participants were encouraged to digress in
directions of their own choosing and to ignore questions that were not
important to their experiences. The goal was to provide structure to verify
and elaborate on known variables associated with professional identity
and communities of practice, while at the same time maximising each
participant’s control over her or his own story. Interviews were conducted
conversationally, and the intention was to explore the questions that had
the most meaning to the participants, and that they were able to comment
on with the most authority. In other words, we were more interested in the
directions that the participants steered the conversations than we were in a
prescribed set of questions. Our interview focused on three areas:



76 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

1. Personal history as an instructional design professional.
2. How instructional designers practise their craft, including their

descriptions of their explicit knowledge, tacit knowledge and
communities of practice.

3. How the practice of instructional design promotes personal, social or
institutional change.

Transcripts of the interviews were sent to the participants, and they were
invited to amend the transcripts in any way they saw fit in order to
qualify, clarify or expand on the conversations. Amended transcripts were
coded and analysed using Atlas software, and as themes emerged, they
were used to construct networks of meaning. Coding and analysis were
conducted by one member of the research team, and all files were checked
by the other two members of the research team for accuracy and
reasonableness. We did not conduct formal reliability tests on the coding
(cf. Rourke, Anderson, Garrison & Archer, 2000), as this would not be
consistent with the goals of the study at this stage. We were not testing
theory, but rather, we were trying to uncover ideas and perspectives that
would inform later studies and help us build theory.

Constant comparison (Strauss & Corbin, 1997; 1998) was used to discover
the central categories that accounted for most of the variation in the data
and that integrated the data, codes, and analytic and process memos
accumulated during the course of the study. This involved moving back
and forth among data sets to discover patterns and to determine the
presence, variation, or absence of patterns. As core categories emerged
from the data, they were compared to the literature for the purpose of
clarifying, extending or refuting previously identified theoretical
constructs (Van Neste-Kenny, 2003). This process enabled the principal
investigator to compare the degree of fit between study findings and other
contexts, settings, and groups (Guba, 1981).

Participants were selected who had at least three years of experience as
instructional designers, and who were employed full time as instructional
designers in post-secondary education institutions. Participants included
two women and three men; three were Canadians (one was working at a
university in the United States) and two were Australians. One of the
Canadians specialised in usability testing, and his current instructional
design role was restricted to that aspect of instructional design. Four of the
five participants had held more than one instructional design position
during their careers, and three of the participants had significant
experience in the corporate sector in addition to the educational sector.
One participant held a PhD degree and the other four held Master’s
degrees. Three were pursuing doctoral level studies in instructional design
and technology related programs.



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 77

Results and discussion
The research questions defined three areas of investigation, and they were
used to help organise semantic networks from the data. Themes emerged
from the data, and they created three large clusters for analysis: identity
and instructional design, instructional design communities of practice, and
social change agency of instructional designers.

Identity and instructional design
Identity is an important part of any community of practice. It embraces a
sense of shared purpose. A successful community needs to have
boundaries that define its recognised focus. Sometimes the moniker
"instructional designer" is adopted by an organisation before that identity
is defined, as organisations create the positions and anoint employees with
the label. We speculated that people create identities from their experience
and background, and in professional communities they draw on
institutional culture, professional literature, professional organisations and
reflection to understand the boundaries of their practice.

Some of that is fascinating, and now we talk about ourselves as being
instructional designers all the time, where I was a project manager when I
came here, and I guess I was a manager before that, and a teacher, and
a writer. It’s only recently that we've talked about being instructional
designers, and I'm kind of excited that there's a whole lot of interest and
talk about that. (Deborah:18 )

The participants1 made several comments that suggested that ID is an area
struggling for identity, a positive image and respect. First of all, there is
the issue of whether ID is objectivist and hard nosed. Add to this the
expressed concern that ID is expensive and a process that actually slows
down organisational efforts to produce resources (Deborah:63;
Deborah:52; Eric:41) and worry from instructional designers about the
importance or consistency of their contributions (Allen:72; Allen:80;
Barbara:45). Does this mean that IDers don't understand the types of
contributions they make? No. Instructional designers were able to identify
places where they had a personal impact on social change (Deborah:54), or
where they brought particular skills or strategies to bear on projects
(Eric:37; Allen:82; Allen:83). But instructional designers also recognise that
their worth may be misunderstood, and that they will need to be able to
respond to challenges from clients about their value.
                                                  
1 Pseudonyms were used in the document. Quotations identified during coding
were numbered sequentially, and the number is included with the name for each
quote. So the number following each quote can be used to identify its relative
position in an interview. For example, Deborah: 53 refers to the 53rd coded
quotation from Deborah during her interview.



78 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

Just ask yourself, what is it that you actually bring to the table? You make
an effort not to be skilled in the technologies themselves because you
suggest that by doing so, you're going to become just another programmer,
or you won't be able to maintain the perspective that you have currently.
But, in the eyes of the teams you're working with, what's their perception of
your value? What are your skills in their eyes? And so there are a lot of
people saying that you really do need to develop more than what you do
have in your area. (Allen:79)

Doors to the profession
There seem to be several paths people can take into the profession, only
one of which is through professional programs, and this may contribute to
the disquiet about identity. An examination of the quotations coded to
"experience" reveals that experience is a path to training and the profession
as often as it happens the other way around. ID is a profession that doesn't
require credentials to practise, and there is no impediment to gaining
experience. People come to the profession from many different walks of
life, and are "hooked" by the experience of designing something
successfully. This often leads them to pursue professional training to
understand the processes underlying successful performance.

My experience is not typical instructional designer experience… Up until,
the last months I was at [an institution of higher education], I was the only
instructional designer who had a teaching background. The others had
come through a whole series of routes to being instructional designers. I
was working with a physicist, a classicist, a creative writer, a television
producer, a mathematician and, oh yes, there was one other person with a
teaching background. (Barbara:17)

Teaching background seems to be particularly influential. Several
participants commented on the importance of teaching background to the
practice of ID, that it lends a valuable perspective to the practice of ID.
There is a hint that a teaching background, and perhaps other careers. are
super-ordinate to ID theory or experience, that teaching background not
only informs the practice of ID, it is somehow more important.

It is also interesting to note the tone of the statement "...it wasn't just some
instructional design theory, and it wasn't just based on instructional
design experience." The ID identity is wrapped up in value statements
about previous positions or careers. In fact, other instructional designers
on the team were identified by their earlier roles, and there is the
implication that these positions impinged importantly on their identities as
instructional designers.

But it is just as significant that teaching experience alone wasn't seen as
adequate preparation for instructional design. Other experiences — as a



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 79

student, in learning theory, with experienced designers — are all seen as
contributing to ID performance.

I also had to remind myself that my teaching practice had been classroom
based. Now I was creating distance education materials and new
considerations were involved. My experiences as a student in a variety of
distance education courses, both print based and online courses, was
helpful, but it was not enough. I needed to carefully consider the
application of instructional design theory to distributed learning praxis. I
needed to synthesise a wide range of experiences and educational
considerations in order to make decisions. I often felt the need to vet these
decisions with experienced designers; however, I also needed to prove that
I was capable of being a designer in my own right. Finding an appropriate
balance was a challenge. (Barbara:18)

Institutional culture
Part of instructional designer’s identity is embedded in the context of the
institutional culture in which ID is practiced. The culture of an institution
carries with it very strong embedded values and a unique identity. Three
of the participants worked in university settings and three had worked or
still worked in organisations devoted to designing instructional courses
and resources for open learning. One person had recently left an open
learning organisation and moved to a university setting. It was quite
apparent that the cultures of the organisations were influential, and that
members of the organisations thought a great deal about the implications
of those cultures on the practice of instructional design.

Barbara expressed it clearly.
I think every institution has an embedded culture. That culture thrives on
shared values and shared perspectives of the world. An open learning
perspective of the world carries with it a different set of assumptions than a
traditional university carries. (Barbara:5)

How do the cultures differ? For one thing, the open learning organisations
seem to pay much closer attention to the audiences, perhaps because they
are viewed as customers of their products. (Barbara:10) By comparison,
university settings seem to emphasise content in design. (Barbara:12)
These instructional designers also reported finding a more business like,
project centred ethic at work in the open learning settings. (Barbara:32)
This was evidenced in comments about the close attention paid to project
deadlines, the union mentality about work hours, and the efficiency of
housing production and instructional support services in the same
building as instructional design.

University settings were viewed quite differently. Services were seen as
more distributed and separated at the universities described by these



80 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

participants. University culture was viewed as no less demanding, but the
atmosphere and expectations were quite different. Universities seemed to
adopt a more contemplative, scholarly approach to instructional design,
and expectations emphasised research and best practice. (Barbara:33;
Eric:57) Reading these accounts, it is possible to conclude that university
life is leisurely and casual, whereas open learning settings are more
corporate and demanding. This would be misleading. The workload
demands were seen as roughly equivalent, but the time commitment was
interpreted differently in the two settings. Open learning organisations ran
on strict workday schedules (Barbara:34), whereas universities had little
concern or respect for the difference between personal and professional
time. (Barbara:37) But the most important conclusion to be drawn from
this is not the direct comparison of a business model and university model
of ID cultures.

It is appropriate to reiterate that these observations are highly contextual,
as are all of the observations in this report. There is no single university
structure, nor is there any single business culture that can be generalised.
Nevertheless, the comments harvested here point out very eloquently that
different ID cultures do exist in various organisations, and these cultures
influence the communities of practice.

ID professional organisations, literature and reflection
Professional organisations play an important role in nourishing ID
communities of practice, but it appears to be an indirect relationship. By
sponsoring conferences, professional organisations contribute to designers'
communities of practice. When asked about professional organisations and
conferences, participants indicated that they were important for making
personal contact with individuals, often for the purpose of making virtual
contact with them later. But as important as face to face contact is,
conference attendance is sporadic due to the high cost of travel and
attendance. And to foreshadow an observation we will elaborate later,
professional organisations are formal structures, whereas ID communities
of practice are largely informal.

So this whole conference thing again. I'm convinced it's not so much for
sharing ideas as it is for pressing the flesh, or shaking someone's hand and
saying hello so when you do talk with them electronically, that there's
some connection there. (Allen:24)

When asked about ID literature reviewed regularly, participants
mentioned web based resources and references. One mentioned two
professional journals, but it is apparent that these designers more often
look to the web for professional guidance. Formal, printed literature held
no particular prominence in the immediate attention of these designers as



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 81

a more legitimate source of trustworthy advice than web based resources.
But these designers use professional literature and resources, often to
reflect on projects underway.

So, if I'm reading something from a professional journal, and somebody's
come up with a new way of doing things, that will cause me to reflect on
my own project. (Eric:18)

Reflection informs the professional identities of instructional designers,
and consequently their communities of practice. Although nobody
mentioned using a formal approach to reflection such as journaling, most
suggested that they engaged informally and regularly in professional
reflection. There was also mention of group events and professional
development opportunities that stimulated reflection.

I tend to think that that whole reflective practitioner model is something
I've experienced, right from my first career as a teacher, where you find
yourself trying something out, based on either your past experience or
something you've investigated and made a conscious decision to try. And
then you'd make your observations, either formally or informally about
how that turned out, and make your adjustments - so, either, you've got a
chance right away to implement some changes, or you'd sort of tuck it away
and think the next time I do this I'm going to try this. (Barbara:40)

In the final analysis, instructional designers seem to have a clear idea of
who they are and a great deal of respect for what they can contribute. That
clarity and respect is not shared by the organisations they serve.
Instructional designers come from many professional walks of life, and
there doesn’t seem to be a central rallying post for them. They appear to be
very competent people caught up in doing a good job. They attend
conferences, read literature (mostly on the web), and reflect informally on
their performance and how to improve it. But the focus is close to the
ground, for the most part, not in the clouds.

Instructional design communities of practice

Collaboration with other designers is a key element in developing a
community of practice, and before starting this research, we assumed that
instructional designers would be working in very solitary, very isolated
settings. We were wrong. Collaboration is identified as important to
instructional designers (Allen:17; Barbara:36) for a number of reasons and
they actively seek convenient opportunities to engage others. It expands
the pool of experience on which designers draw, and there is evidence that
people include collaboration as part of the social fabric of the organisation.

If you were going to walk away from your desk, there was only one social
place to go and that was the cafeteria. What would you find down there?
Designers talking about design…I believe that everyone involved benefited



82 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

from these discussions, by re-opening and unpacking previous
assumptions, re-visiting alternative options. So this became the community
of practice, as such, and after lunch everybody headed off to their desks,
and again, worked in a rather isolated fashion. (Barbara:36)

Communities of convenience

It is quite apparent that communities of practice, as defined by
participants, were born of convenience more than through formal
structures, encouragements or agendas. Every participant in the study
indicated that their communities were informal and convenience seemed
to be a core issue in their formation.

So, in that case, again it was very much a convenience situation. I mean,
who do I know that can shed some light or shed their experience, and I
think it's easier for me now than it would have been 10 years ago, because I
have more contacts. Your circle of people you're able to contact, that you're
comfortable contacting and that you're likely to get some feedback from.
(Allen:18)

They were also often tied to social gatherings as predictable as a coffee
klatch (Barbara:36) or as inventive as an exercise group (Deborah:42). The
notion of convenience was central to participation in virtual communities
of practice too. (Eric:29) They are fitted into spare time, and participants
mention that they design the way they participate in online communities
so that the material is convenient to use. When communities are
inconvenient to use, they are seen as being of lesser value. (Allen:40). In
most cases, participants mentioned that other members of their groups
were called on to advise on specific project challenges or issues
(Deborah:37), but there was also mention of discussions of larger business,
cultural, pedagogical or theoretical issues (Barbara:53)

Physical proximity of people within an organisation influences the
membership in an informal community of practice, probably because it
supports the convenience factor. If people sit near each other, they
naturally interact. This informal engagement leads to shared experience
and the development of a shared culture.

And apart from that, the way the whole space is set up, on a daily basis you
kind of informally collaborate. Like, in my corner there is [one designer],
and there is [another designer], and a few others around there, and that
section is kind of the online section. This is more print, so collaboration is
there within that group. (Eric:14)

Physical proximity also draws artificial boundaries around the
community, and it excludes some others who work in other areas. This, of
course, is no surprise; management literature is rife with advice about



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 83

where to place employees in workgroups. But it is not necessarily
considered by managers of instructional design. It may be that adjusting
the physical seating of individuals in ID workgroups may be one of the
single most important contributions to promoting the development of a
community of practice. How does this translate to online communities?
Virtual proximity may include how immediate or apparent the community
is in the routine workspace of the user. For example, a list that pushes
email to the user, or a chat space that is always available and alerts the
participant when someone logs on may create a proximal virtual
environment for the participant.

Trajectories of participation
Trajectory of participation is a phrase coined by Wenger (1998) to describe
the direction that people in communities of practice are moving. Are they
orbiting the periphery of a community? Do they occupy a medial or
peripheral position?

The amount of time one is in a community of practice mediates the
position in the community. A new person in a community is naturally on
the periphery, given that the designer is struggling to learn the cultural
conventions that are second nature to more experienced members of the
community. This is evident, even when a very experienced designer joins a
new community of practice. This suggests that communities of practice are
localised and contextual; one can't transport experiences from one
community of practice to another, especially when the embedded cultural
values of the communities differ substantially.

I think I'm still on the outside of this community of practice. I say that
because experienced designers do not think much about institutional
practices that I'm still learning. Or at least they have not had cause to do so
prior to the hiring of the new designers. The senior designers have long
understood the relationships among the various departments involved in
distance education. (Barbara:41)

There is a sense that it is necessary to get experience with a particular
community of practice in order to be accepted into its inner circles. At
least, that is the perception of some participants — that they are isolated
when they are new to a community, but they will move to a more central
position once they gain experience with the community.

So when I got back last November, I had to upskill myself in this changing
world of design, moving into learning objects. So, at the moment, I think I'm
more towards the middle. If that's a circle, and here's the centre, I'm more
here [gestures mid way on the radius] than at the periphery. When I came
back, I think I was at the periphery, but I've gone through a very steep
learning curve and I've spent a lot of time on my own hours to come up to
speed. (Eric:59)



84 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

Sometimes, the position in a community is defined by the formal role or
position held in an organisation. Dynamic communities of practice don't
automatically accept them as leaders or participants, but ultimately, they
require social acceptance in order to perform effectively in the community
of practice.

I have to be at the centre, because that's part of our education officer role,
like Bob, Henrietta and Georgina. We expect to be up at that level so we can
be mentors to the rest of the team. When we do high profile projects, we
need to assure that our clients are getting the best products possible.
(Eric:60)

Features of ID communities

History. Communities are supposedly stronger when they share history
and culture. Conversely they are weak when they are based on general
interests and abstract ideas. If this is the case, then the communities of
practice within instructional design would seem to be characteristically
weakened by their lack of a sense of shared history. There were no explicit
comments about the shared history of instructional designers within a
particular community of practice, with the exception of a comment about
how the military roots of systems models of instructional design
contribute to suspicions by people outside our communities.

The whole nature of instructional design with its military origins, and the
connotations that it has of putting people in straight jackets so they'll sit
right, I think has turned a lot of people off. Eric:44)

But this doesn't mean that the communities don't share a history; it is just
that the participants don't think to talk about it as a prominent feature of
their communities. The fact that most communities of practice identified
by participants were in house communities may mean that the shared
history is so rich or intimate that it is taken for granted.

Participation. Participation, even passive participation as a spectator, was
seen as a key element of community. It can be interpreted as the frequency
of contact with other members of the community. This feature was
common to face to face and virtual communities. In virtual environments,
evidence of participation included the number of messages, their length
and whether conversations continued. This is consistent with the notions
of engagement and alignment described by Schwier (2001). Members of
communities of practice go beyond interaction and engage each other in
meaningful conversations. This engagement, over time, leads participants
to align themselves with the community and its central values and
messages.



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 85

Like I said, the two communities that I use as examples, even though I value
one more than the other, I feel they are both communities, based on the
amount of participation   the number of messages being posted, the length
of some of the threads. I think, yeh, there's a community there. (Allen:63)

Mutuality. Participants mentioned that mutuality is an important feature of
participating fully in a community of practice. Communities spring from,
and are maintained by interdependence and reciprocity. Participants
typically construct purposes, intentions and the protocol for interaction.
But mutuality appears to be something that is "grown into" by
participants. One spoke to the notion of growing into a position where it
was possible to make contributions that were as valuable as the ones
received by the community.

I've been a lurker more than I've been a contributor, but I've contributed
maybe a half dozen times, you know, over the last while. And I find for me
it's just a matter of gaining confidence and thinking, okay, I've got enough
experience in this role I'm in, and I feel I've learned a few lessons myself,
thanks to trial and error or whatever, that obviously, based on the questions
being asked, other people haven't quite learned that yet. So now I'm in a
position where I can share my experience with them, and be of value to
someone else as others have been of value to me. So, it's very much a matter
of wanting to feel as if you've made your contribution, because you've
benefited from others who were willing to share their experience. (Allen:52)

Another participant mentioned that experience with the group was just as
important as having a fresh perspective or unique knowledge to share.
New members of communities may have ideas that are useful, but they
expressed concern that established communities may be reluctant to
welcome them.

Well, I was the only person, really, who had ever studied learning theory.
Other people had only taken graduate work, often in adult education, and
they may have skimmed over learning theories, but bring up a word like
"meta cognitive strategies" and a glazed look would go around the group.
And I would feel like, okay, yet again I'm coming from a perspective that's
not understood in the group. You know, maybe people who have been
doing this for 23 years or more aren't all this interested in a novice
explaining a term they haven't heard before. (Barbara:24)

Plurality. Communities draw much of their vitality from "intermediate
associations" such as expert and authoritative contacts, and other groups
in areas peripherally related to instructional design. Participants spoke
frequently and passionately about the associations they had with groups
outside their organisations and immediate instructional design roles, and
how those groups informed their ID work.



86 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

…but for me it would also be the people I did documentary with - to still be
talking with those people about how to make documentaries. They
wouldn't consider themselves instructional designers but the issues are
really similar. We're still talking about design. (Deborah:49)

But plurality is also a feature within some organisations. It was clear that
some organisational cultures encouraged, and even mandated, that
various departments within the organisation that had influence on the
learner's experience, broadly defined, were brought into the instructional
designers' teams, and by extension, their communities of practice.

Back at [an earlier organisation], all of the design and delivery people
worked within a single building. So, if we had a planning meeting, for
example, a representative from the Registrar's Office was there, someone
from the Help Desk, someone from Student Services would be there. It was
this all encompassing idea - what do the students need, if you make this
decision, what effect is it going to have on the Help Desk folks. (Barbara:42)

Plurality appears to have importance, not just for the particular learning
challenges being faced, but also for the institutional culture. When
plurality has strong influence in an instructional design community of
practice, it means that instructional designers will be bringing a wide
range of considerations and solutions to bear on learning problems. When
complex learning systems are designed in a culture that encourages
plurality, there is a higher likelihood that all important variables will be
considered.

Tacit knowledge. As reviewed earlier, knowledge management literature
pays particular attention to tacit knowledge and its role in communities of
practice. Tacit knowledge is what an experienced practitioner knows
internally, but that isn't part of the explicit knowledge held by the
community or organisation. In a profession as complicated and distributed
as instructional design, moving hidden tacit knowledge to public, explicit
knowledge is important to the growth of the profession, and is one of the
unstated goals of many communities of practice.

Participants were asked about tacit knowledge they held - ideas,
procedures, strategies or tactics they had invented or learned, but that
weren't common knowledge in instructional deign. Interestingly, they had
little to offer at first. It was possible that they were humble or the question
was intimidating, but at any rate, participants had little to say
immediately.

But elsewhere in the interviews, the designers offered dozens of examples
of unique or creative solutions and observations about instructional
design. Examples of their tacit knowledge included such things as how to



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 87

deal with difficult clients, job aids for applying criteria to projects, or how
to gather expert advice to address difficult design problems. It just wasn't
thought of as tacit knowledge. Instructional designers are problem solvers,
and they invent solutions as a routine matter in their daily work lives. But
they don't necessarily see that this type of knowledge as significant or
substantial, nor do they think of ways to move it into the public arena.

At the same time, it was clear that members of in house communities of
practice constantly probed for and shared solutions to design problems
they faced in projects. It appears that the process of transforming tacit
knowledge into explicit, shared knowledge is an informal, serendipitous
occurrence in the organisations we’ve included so far. These are healthy
organisations that promote interaction among designers, and this naturally
leads them to share new ideas. But one could speculate that in unhealthy
or highly competitive organisations, such knowledge would not be shared
as easily or informally. Tacit knowledge could be seen as strategically
important, or offering a competitive advantage.

Repositories of knowledge. We think of communities of practice as groups of
people. This is most certainly what most instructional designers
mentioned when asked about their own communities. However, one
person considered online resources to be an important, if unidirectional,
part of the community of practice. Can shared resources and forum
archives act as communities of practice? They don't fit formal definitions
easily, but they certainly can be thought of as repositories of thought from
communities of practice. There is really very little difference in searching a
repository of information and lurking in a chat session. If one is primarily
an observer, that action can still satisfy the requirement of participation in
the community.

But increasingly, I'm looking wider to the online community out there. I
always try to use my computer at lunchtime, surfing the net, go to my
favourite bookmarks of instructional design resources, forums on
designing. Just going and seeing what people are thinking, especially in this
new area of learning objects. (Eric:29)

Virtual communities of practice

It was clear that participants relied heavily on online repositories of
information, and to a lesser degree, participants mentioned that they
participated in active online communities of practice. These included
listservs and email lists for the most part - asynchronous communication
environments. Comments from the participants suggested that they
viewed virtual communication and interpersonal communication as
functionally equivalent.



88 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

So, when some fail and some succeed, in terms of having a successful
communication, it makes me think that there's, well, nothing magical about
the virtual environment necessarily. It still boils down to just people and
whether they connect with the words you say or the words you write.
(Allen:31)

The people interviewed are experienced users of technology, and they
view virtual technologies as another mode of expression, with concomitant
strengths and weaknesses. One can speculate that instructional designers,
as a group, are probably more experienced and sophisticated with using
online communication technologies than most other professional groups.
Given that many instructional designers are creating online learning
resources, it isn’t surprising that they see virtual communication as a
natural extension of their face to face communities of practice.

Not that there aren’t limitations; indeed, one participant struggled with
the uncertainty that accompanies electronic communication. Uncertainty
and ambiguity plague virtual communities of practice. For example, if
someone asks a question or makes a comment in a virtual community of
practice, and there is a limited response from other members of the
community, the silence can be interpreted by the sender in a number of
ways.

So I think there's that uncertainty. I mean, I have posted once or twice to the
list and have gotten a good response, but I've also gotten next to no
response. You, you think, "What am I supposed to make of that. Is this just a
dumb question, or nobody had any experience with it, Whereas, if we were
in a face to face environment, I would have been more certain about why I
didn't get a response. (Allen:61)

Similarly, it is misleading to speak in gross terms of the characteristics of
"online communities." They differ from each other as much as they differ
from other kinds of communities. They differ in tone, intensity, usefulness,
number of subscribers and content among other things. In these
interviews, participants described general networks, professional resource
repositories and forums, intranet discussion groups in organisations,
student societies and email exchange groups. It is important to keep in
mind that when we discuss online communities, we are really talking
about a wide array of entities that operate on several levels and within a
bewildering number of contexts.

Purpose. Virtual communities of practice, just like other communities of
practice, don't just happen; they form when individuals share a purpose
that has importance either personally or professionally. The clearer and
more important the purpose, the stronger the adhesion of individuals to
the group. In education, and perhaps in virtual communities of practice,
we sometimes make the mistake of thinking that individuals will be drawn



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 89

to a community merely because it is there and people have interests in
common. Of greater importance seems to be the issue of whether the
community will contribute something tangible to the participants. This
"social capital" may be common to the members of the group, but it is
more likely that a strong community will speak to the individual needs of
participants, needs that hover around a central purpose, but that take on a
variety of meanings for individuals. At any rate, it is vitally important that
communities of practice can answer the question, "What will I get out of
it?" to be successful.

The listserve would be a tool built into the class to be used as a sort of
community device. And my sense was, in my own case and from hearing
students and instructors talk about it, "Why would I invest any time and
effort in this virtual environment when the class is already structured to
allow us to meet face to face on a regular basis?" And, or, outside of class,
you see these people on a regular basis. So, it really seemed to be an
example of trying to force a tool and approach - a kind of square peg and
round hole sort of thing - where it just didn't seem to add anything
(Allen:64)

Managing online communities. Online communities can be managed
differently than most face to face communities, mainly because of the
control and anonymity provided by technology. For example, one can
filter messages from an online community and look at them when there is
time, or one can route messages to a dedicated mailbox. Some online lists
permit participants to receive a digest (single message) that contains all of
the messages on the list that day. That can be very useful for managing
time, but presumably reduces the immediacy and spontaneity of the
interactions with the groups. At any rate, designers reported managing
their interactions online in skilled and deliberate ways.

I subscribe to one of them through my Hotmail account, and the other one
comes to my personal email account. In addition, all of the messages that
come to my Hotmail account. I only check that account on a sporadic basis.
And because it is a free Hotmail account, I'm always getting messages that
I'm just about over my limit, because it piles up, and I don't keep as close
tabs on that. And I think it's a conscious decision because I don't feel that
list is quite as valuable as the other one. (Allen:38)

The trinity: people, context, content. The context of a virtual community of
practice and the people involved in the community are most important to
its success according to one participant. But this position was qualified by
others, who identified content as the central feature that drew them to
communities. The impression this left was that for virtual communities, all
three things are vital. Content is of course important — it provides the
substance around which discussions form. But in virtual communities, it
appears that participants are looking for more. They are looking for a



90 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

context that is convenient to use, and they are looking to expand the
number of qualified people they can engage, or access to leaders in the
field who are otherwise inaccessible. This trinity forms much of the social
capital of virtual communities, the glue that holds them together.

So, to me it isn't so much the content that would make me pause to say, "Is
this appropriate for a virtual community." It's much more the context, or the
people having the discussion. And, where's the value in having that virtual
community over having a more traditional one? (Allen:66)

Receiving a great deal of advice is typically desirable, and when several
people give similar advice, one interprets the advice as more reliable. By
definition, it is, but caution was expressed about the seeming reliability of
converging advice in a virtual environment. Contrary advisors may be
silent. In fact, silence may cloak several different interpretations of the
item under discussion (Allen: 57). Therefore, it is reasonable to think of
converging ideas as less representative of the population from which they
are drawn.

Anonymity and social distance. An interesting issue is the role of social
distance in building credibility. A common joke is that an expert is
someone from more than 25 miles away with PowerPoint. There are old
saws like "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and "familiarity breeds
contempt." The participants made some interesting comments that
suggested something similar happens within a virtual communication
system. Is the development of a strong community of practice necessarily
dependent on participants becoming more intimate and reducing the
amount of social distance? Maybe there are advantages to promoting a
certain amount of distance. Perhaps social distance contributes to the
attraction of some members to a community of practice, and thereby
strengthens the glue of the community (increases the collective social
capital of the group). One individual mentioned very clearly that
anonymity is an important part in how he participates in virtual
communities (Allen: 69). It is important to this person that he is able to dip
into and out of a community, use it for what he needs, and then leave. In
professional communities of practice, he isn't looking for personal or
intimate associations.

At first glance this seems counter-intuitive; we think of communities as
places where people make personal investments. But that isn't necessarily
the case for professional communities of practice. In these settings, the
agendas may be more utilitarian, at least for some participants. In all cases,
it is clear that personal agendas will shape the nature of communication in
a virtual community of practice in much the same way as personal
agendas influence temporal communities.



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 91

I can think of two people in the past six months that I've never met, but I've
communicated with enough online, and just through that communication
(and in one case some phone calls as well). Just through that
communication, they have felt confident enough in me, without ever having
met me, to recommend me for jobs, and to serve as references, and that still
kind of blows me away. (Allen:25)

Social change and agency

There was a clear message that there was a need for the types of social
change that ID can provide, and evidence of the influence of ID generally
on institutional policies and issues. There were also a number of
frustrations and worries that were articulated about the lack of influence
instructional designers felt in their organisations.

There are some really huge issues that are moving forward in distance
education, especially technology  enhanced learning issues. If the
institutions - the academies -  do not look at these issues very seriously,
very soon, they're going to find themselves in policy nether land, where
nothing works. (Barbara:62)

Barbara’s comment warns of a problem identified by Kowch (2003), where
the traditional policy making structures in most institutions of higher
education are not positioned to address emerging pan-institutional issues
effectively; that addressing pressing, multi-dimensional socio-political
issues requires changes that fundamentally challenge the policy making
structures of institutions. In this section of the paper we will consider the
kinds of social change that instructional designers identified, the kinds of
contributions they make to them, and some of the unresolved issues that
organisations face.

Social change: Types and examples

Instructional designers described different types of social change that they
influenced, and for convenience we group them into institutional issues
and professional issues. By institutional issues, we mean those things that
engage the organisations or structures of society; by professional issues we
mean those things that engage individuals and groups, independent of
their organisations.

Institutional issues. Designers mentioned projects that had wide influence,
such as changing social attitudes about stereotyped groups (Deborah:54).
They also mentioned institutional growth in the prominence of
instructional design positions (Allen:75), different levels of responsibility
to clients, learners and humanity (Deborah:53), and a growing
appreciation for instructional design by management (Eric:46).



92 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

Professional issues. Participants stated that they had seen evidence of
transformed practice among educators as a result of their involvement in
instructional design, particularly on technology enhanced learning
projects. These were often characterised as a shift from content centred
design to learner centred design (Barbara:79). But changes were noted in
how instructional designers encouraged organising and structuring
learning by modeling good practice (Deborah:58) and focusing attention
on important learning outcomes (Eric:33).

A consistent message was that as instructional designers, people felt they
were able to influence larger groups of people than they could in other
educational roles.

I found it hugely satisfying that I could write materials that would affect
more people than just my class. And I found it most annoying as a teacher
that I could do a good job in my own class, and Joe Blow next door could do
a really shocking job, and you know, we were having about the same kind
of impact on about 30 people each. So I found that once I got into doing
resources that I didn't want to go back to teaching. (Deborah:20)

But there was a measure of caution, expressed as a concern that in order to
have a sustained influence over an extended period, one would need to be
working on content areas that they felt were important. Perhaps this
suggests that the supposed content free nature of ID doesn't permit
designers to connect to substance they value. Is the personal value of what
we contribute significantly bound with the content areas in which we
design? Do designers hunger to work on content they value?

But if someone said that's what you're going to be doing for the next ten
years. Look, I'll do it for a year because I think there's a lot to learn, but then
I think I'll move on. Because I do need that. I don't know if it's a kind of
megalomania driving it I want to have an impact on a lot of people, but it
has to be on a topic I want to be working with. (Deborah:22)

One of the most provocative statements spoke to the irregularity of
personal impact. It is likely that instructional designers feel as though their
contributions are uneven. They make an important difference sometimes,
but not necessarily often enough to feel a high degree of personal
satisfaction.

It's one of those things where you feel you know you make a difference.
You know you have an impact at times, and sometimes you come away
feeling really good about it. But rarely do I feel like it's a consistent
difference. Rarely do I feel like it's a widespread margin of difference to my
liking. So, I'm more frustrated than I am satisfied with the level of
difference I make. I'm always looking to have impact on a large scale.
(Allen:72)



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 93

When we consider the effect of ID on social change, and look for large
influences, we may overlook the fact that small contributions may have a
large effect in the long run, as illustrated by Deborah’s comment.

So I do think we can have an impact. And certainly, in terms of when I'm
working on (it might be a minor thing), but I'm working on something and I
think the writers have used a whole new stereotype. They've referred to this
person who was really difficult, and said "of course he was the union rep."
And just by saying that's not a reasonable thing to do and changing it, I
think, "I was lucky to have spotted that. It's going to go out to thousands of
people. It's just a minor thing, but I just think it's good for us to be informed
and to be aware of those types of issues around stereotyping and to talk
about goals and what we want education to be like. We may get frustrated
with one little unit, but a lot of students are going to have to engage with
that unit for a long time. (Deborah:53)

This may be especially true of ethical stances and higher values, and how
holding to them can have profound effects. Perhaps humility about our
influence is reasonable and sufficient, even admirable. Instructional design
may not be so important on a grand scale, but the contributions made can
have wide and profound influence in the long run. For example, if we
insist on gender neutral language, we may in the long run, contribute to a
new understanding of equality.

Unresolved change issues

Instructional designers, particularly Barbara, recognised many important
emerging issues that will influence how educational institutions will
respond to social and technological change. One very large issue is
intellectual property. If instructors are given release time to design
courseware for an institution, what intellectual property rights does the
individual retain? When an educator works on courseware in spare time,
what rights does the institution have to the product? Who has the right
and responsibility to ensure the currency and accuracy of content in
courseware designed for institutions? Will royalty payments be made or
other rewards be provided to educators whose products are used, in much
the same way as royalties are permitted for academics who write books?

Well, it's a joint effort. Who owns what? How much does the instructor own
at the end of the day, given that it was a team that created it? While it is
likely that a shared  ownership agreement will eventually come into play,
just now intellectual property rights are gray area. Subject matter experts
are concerned about that. When clients ask these sorts of questions, I have
no answers. (Barbara:66)

Other important issues include intellectual freedom, and what happens to
the instructor's permission to change courses to fit a personal vision or
preference (Barbara:73; 74). Related to the issue of intellectual property is



94 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

portability. Will an educator who designs courseware have the right to
transport the product to a different university or institution?

Further, what happens to an instructor who moves to a new university?
Most likely, he or she will lose access to a course in which hours and hours
of thoughtful development time has been invested. Should these instructors
be granted permission to take copies of this work with them? Again, the
specter of intellectual property rights raises its presence. (Barbara:75)

Another issue for instructors is to open up the process of design to move
instructors into a collaborative approach instead of a craft approach to
designing instruction. Educators typically work alone when they design
classes, and it can be very challenging to open the process to the ideas and
criticisms of a team. At one level, this is a process of persuading
individuals to take personal risks; in a larger sense, it is a process of
opening the private culture of teaching and learning.

I guess the other issue would be the insecurity of some of the teachers who
are not used to working in teams and the collaborative approach. And
being a teacher myself, I know we tend to be a bit selfish at times, and have
this notion that unless I create it, it isn't good enough. I cannot use other
people's designs. (Eric:39)

In terms of the role that will be played by instructional design in the
process of social change, there is one very complex issue to be addressed.
Several participants suggested that ID is regarded as a luxury, at best an
expensive, time consuming process that confounds the process of
generating educational products. (Eric:41)

The other issue would be with regard to budgets and schedules. Some
people think instructional design is an add on that is very expensive and
time consuming. Some of our teachers downstairs complain that our
resources take so much time to complete because someone called an
instructional designer is putting all of these hurdles along the way. (Eric:41)

Designers know that they have a great deal to contribute, and that they
make a big difference in the quality of instruction they influence. But they
work in a shadow profession, one that is not fully understood or
appreciated by those in management. In order to be effective in promoting
social change, instructional design needs to clarify the kinds of
contributions it can make, and make other educators aware of those
contributions. It isn't enough to work quietly and effectively in the
shadows, and hope that the profession is understood and appreciated.

Issues not mentioned
Schwier (2001) posited that learning communities had a future orientation,
an idea complemented by Wenger’s trajectories of participation in
communities of practice (Wenger, 1998). In the interviews with



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 95

instructional designers to date, little or no discussion of the future
direction of the profession or its communities of practice emerged. There is
immediacy, a descriptive rather than interpretive tone to discussions about
the practice of ID. Where is it going? What is its direction? Where is it
leading? These are items about which the discussants were less vocal.

The interesting question, though, is why were participants reticent on this
issue? It is entirely possible that the questions and directions of the
interviews did not encourage this kind of observation. Maybe the
participants were thinking so carefully about describing the nature of their
work that they didn't consider whether the communities of practice had a
future orientation. On the other hand, it is possible that this is
characteristic of instructional design. Designers work so closely and
intensely in the immediate, that they fail to consider the direction they are
following to the future.

When asked directly about the significance of instructional design,
individuals spoke about their influence on immediate projects, or reflected
on specific projects they influenced in important ways. Nobody spoke of
how instructional design might be influencing the future of education or
training, at least, not specifically.

Related to this, something else seemed to be missing in the interviews.
When asked about social change agency, and their perceptions of what the
role of the instructional designer is in that process, every participant's
perspective was on the local context or the profession. As mentioned
earlier, there was mention of how we contribute to some positive social
movements, such as eliminating stereotyping and institutional change, but
most comments described local rather than global concerns.

In a follow up question to participants via email, we put the question to
them directly. We asked participants to articulate clearly in a sentence or
two what they saw as the “larger purpose or grand mission of ID?” Some
responses included:

The larger purpose or grand mission of ID is to represent learners and to
integrate learning theory into the development of learning materials and
activities. (Barbara)
To ensure that educational resources help people achieve their learning
goals (Deborah)
I think the overall mission of ID is to help in the design of learning
experiences/resources which facilitate learning easily and effectively. (Eric)
I would say the mission of ID is to "optimise the effectiveness and
enjoyment of the learning experience through thoughtful, well designed
instructional methods and materials." (Allen)



96 Australasian Journal of Educational Technology, 2004, 20(1)

But Allen, on reflection, offered a refreshing coda:
Of course, a less academic sounding one might be "to help people learn well
without making them cry...or swear."

There was considerable similarity in the responses. Instructional designers
have a clearer sense of shared identity, when pressed, than earlier
responses may have indicated. Their statements reveal a strong
commitment to the learner and an orientation toward empowerment. But
that identity is tied to the development of resources and learning systems,
not to any lofty purpose served by instructional design. Nobody
commented on the importance of the profession to creating social change,
for leading educators in a mission to improve education, learning or
society. We seem to lack a vision of our role in more important issues. Are
instructional designers cogs in the education machine, or are they change
agents? Our guess is that instructional designers may be acting as change
agents more than they realise; that they are participants in moving
educational agendas and sweeping societal change. But instructional
designers are not necessarily participating in setting the agenda for
change. They see themselves as significant participants rather than as
leaders, and they are even somewhat bewildered about why people come
to them only as an afterthought.

Is this a story of power and influence in the educational hierarchy? Was
Heinich (1998) right when he charged that in our profession we have
aligned ourselves with labour when we should have aligned ourselves
with management? More importantly, how is a profession sustained?
What role does a sense of larger purpose play in nourishing a profession
and its participants? Although there are certainly exceptions, medical
doctors view themselves as healers, lawyers see themselves as protectors
of justice, teachers see themselves as improving the future through
children. What is the simple vision of instructional designers? What is
their larger purpose? What is their grand agenda?

Summary
This study unveiled a number of intriguing issues and challenges about
instructional designers and their communities of practice, and how
instructional designers perceive their participation in sweeping changes
underway in education. We see a profession that knows itself, but is
struggling for identity and acceptance in the larger educational
community. We find that instructional designers invent and participate in
communities of practice in ways that challenge our understanding of
models of communities. We learned that there isn’t a single or global
community of ID practice, but rather, hundreds of small, local,



Schwier, Campbell and Kenny 97

effervescent and convenient communities of practice. We see instructional
designers struggling to identify their own tacit knowledge, and without
systematic avenues for sharing their tacit knowledge with other designers.
We find that instructional designers recognise that they have a role to play
in the changes currently underway in education, but less understanding of
how to express that role forcefully and demonstrate leadership. We see
that the focus of designers is institutional more than societal, but that they
exhibit high standards of performance and care for the appropriate
integration of technology into learning environments.

We emphasise that this is a preliminary study. We are encouraged by the
high degree of professionalism, and the thoughtful reflection designers
shared with us. If the participants in this study are representative,
instructional design is a profession populated by highly competent,
intelligent and dedicated individuals who are looking for a way to
influence important changes in education and society.

Acknowledgement

Research supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research
Council of Canada. The authors thank Jocelyne Van Neste-Kenny for her
contributions to the discussion of grounded theory. We are also grateful
for the support provided by Allan Parsons and Gary Pollock of the New
England Institute of TAFE in Tamworth, NSW, Australia, and Ben Daniel
at the University of Saskatchewan.

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Dr Richard A. Schwier
Professor, Educational Communications and Technology
College of Education, University of Saskatchewan
Email: richard.schwier@usask.ca
Web: http://www.usask.ca/education/people/schwierr.htm

Katy Campbell
Associate Dean (Research)
Faculty of Extension, University of Alberta
Email: katy.campbell@ualberta.ca

Richard Kenny
Course Developer, Distance Education and Technology
University of British Columbia
Email rick.kenny@ubc.ca