Week 2 Blog Post

I have to admit from the outset of this post that I've never before dabbled in any readings of activity theory. That said, it took me reading and re-reading sections of each of the articles we read this week in order to begin to (maybe) grasp some of the ideas central to this theoretical perspective. The visual I keep coming back to below from Bomer (2003), though I understand as an oversimplification of a set of circles that must be viewed as constantly overlapping in a much messier fashion, has helped me to begin to grasp the complex layers of activity theory. I pair this figure with a line from the first page of the piece by Sannino, Daniels and Gutiérrez (2009) who wrote, "Activity theory seeks to analyze developments within practical social activities" (p. 1).

Given these 2 ideas which I recognize as generalizations, I am beginning to construct my working definition of activity theory as a way of looking at human life through the lens of the activities in which we engage at macro and micro levels. Something I took as particularly essential to this sort of lens is the importance of "object-oriented activities" (Sannino, Daniels and Gutiérrez, 2009, p. 3). It is the combination of participating in activities, then, that are mediated by tools, actions and d/Discourses that ultimately guide our lives, moving us toward some larger purpose.

As I begin to think about the ways in which these activities are mediated, I find myself drawing on much of what Bomer (2003) wrote about Vygotsky's concept of mediation (p. 225), which, simply put, involves the ways that media and tools are used for thinking. The definition of mediational means as being a way that something we represent in our internal state of mind becomes shaped, modified and represented in some sort of external or visible activity through the example of tying a knot in a handkerchief was particularly helpful for me in visualizing a concrete example of this concept.

In transitioning from this relatively arbitrary example of a handkerchief, I took with me from the Bomer (2003) piece the importance of seeing tools as both local representations that are situated in larger contexts or activity systems as vital when considering the way that Martínez-Roldán (2003) discussed narratives as a mediating cultural tool (p. 495). For me, this piece brought to light that really anything can mediate our activities, ranging from the smallest, most practical and frequent daily activity to the way that activity is situated not only in our lives but within local and global contexts. Martínez-Roldán (2003) added a piece through her research that I didn't find as explictly in the other two pieces which was that these mediations that we experience are developed not only through tools that we use but also through the "mediation of others" (p. 515). So, while much of that research project concentrated on Isabela's narratives and the way she mediated her identity through narrative which can serve storytellers in "establish[ing] a coherent sense of who they are," (p. 498) the piece also outlined the ways in which Isabela's narratives and identity were co-constructed and modified through not only the texts in the classrooms but the students with whom she shared her narrative (and, presumably, the materials and tools at her disposal, though these were not the focus of the research)

In completing these readings on activity theory, I was reminded in particular of an experience I had while reading the Bomer (2003) piece, specifically the line, "A user must interpret a tool in order to use it" (p. 238). I'll keep the story short and condensed for the purposes of this post. However, as I share, I am thinking about the way this particular event was situated in a single activity for the purposes of the story which has implications for a variety of larger activities.

As a speech-language pathologist working in a secondary setting, I had the privilege of getting to know Peter. Peter was one of my favorite students. He loves music and tossing around peace signs. He likes slap-stick comedy and jokes, food and goofing around. Peter and I have a lot in common.

Peter is a young man, now in his sophomore year of high school, who had received a variety of educational and medical diagnoses and labels. Some of these included: intellectually disabled, limited verbal output, gross/fine motor impairments along with others that fell away or were added in over the course of his 16 years.

In terms of communication, Peter and I began working together to implement an augmentative and alternative communication system (AACS) during his daily life to address one of those labels I listed above: limited verbal output. Peter used oral language to say the following words: "why," "Peter [last name], "yes," "no," "ok," and "thank you." As you can imagine, Peter had much more to say than these words, but they weren't accessible to him via oral language, which is the expectation in school activities. We began slowly throughout the course of the school year, during which time Peter made great gains. I'm going to digress here to get to the point of this story in the context of this post, but Peter's communication is important to the event.

On occasion, Peter, like everyone, got aggravated. Often, though, Peter could not express his frustration through words in the way his dominant communication environment expected. This led to other modes of communication which included crying, yelling, attempting to eat objects that were inedible (e.g., tissues or grass), hitting and pinching. Peter was communicating. He was sharing his emotions. My job was to figure out what he was telling me. Often, I inferred based on my limited ability to enter into Peter's communicative world, that Peter was hungry, thirsty or tired. I say I inferred these things because water, snacks and rest often appeared to alleviate Peter's frustration.

One day, Peter became extremely upset as the school day came to a close. Peter made it to the bus but became extremely agitated. I don't know why. Eventually, working with my team of colleagues, Peter came back inside to the classroom in which he spends most of his day. This classroom, often referred to as the "Life Skills Classroom" but also known by a variety of other labels, includes a kitchen. As Peter entered the space, he walked over to the stove, on which sat a skillet. Next to the skillet sat a salt shaker. Peter walked over to these two "tools," and my mind began immediately interpreting the variety of ways that Peter might decide to use these tools.

You see, as in Bomer's (2003) piece, I interpreted these tools for uses that were not necessarily aligned with the way their creators had intended them. Immediately, given that Peter had demonstrated actions that I inferred as aggressive (e.g., hitting, dropping to the ground, spitting, etc.), I assumed he was approaching these tools to be used as weapons. Would he throw the salt shaker at me from across the room? Would he pick up the skillet and begin swinging it at me? As my mind raced to figure out how to position myself and what tools I might use around me to protect myself, Peter picked up the salt shaker. Before I had a chance to react, Peter grabbed the handle to the skillet. But he didn't pick it up. Instead, he held the handle much like I do when I'm keeping the whole pan from moving while I cook. He took the salt shaker in his right hand and began vigorously shaking the salt shaker over the skillet, salting and salting and salting the pan until nearly 3/4 of the content of the salt shaker lay haphazardly across the surface of the skillet.

This story reminds me so concretely of the way an activity plays out based on the interpretations of the players. Had I been Peter in this scenario, I would have interpreted and used the tools for actions that were much different than the way Peter interpreted and used them. The larger discourse happening here was expressing anger. For me, I suppose I assume that means becoming violent when unable to communicate. For Peter, it meant finding a familiar task that he good do with vigor to release pent up energy. Almost immediately, Peter's shoulders began to relax. He turned with surprise as no one in the room had reprimanded him for "wasting" all of the salt. For Peter, the salt shaker became a tool for releasing anger, frustration, anxiety and a variety of other emotions to which I don't have interpretive access. The action Peter used in his interpretation of the tool during this activity allowed him to achieve the same goal I wanted for him.