careful curation
when free resources become costly
The illusion of value
At last, they dropped the link in the chat.
Welcome to the portal of virtual reality enlightenment.
An instruction manual for applying the state-of-the-art demos.
Loading
Gotta be a huge file, chock full of life-changing information to level up my edtech work.
The webinar is done.
I’m all alone with this tab.
Loaded
Wow! Look at all that goodness.
It’s 12 pages long?!
Surely, it must be organized.
Click
Page not found?
Click
Wait, what? Didn’t I see this page before?
Click
Another link of docs? This time 18 pages?
I thought this was a cutting-edge technology webinar.
Ok, maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh.
Let’s use my AI coding partner to extract all the URLs into a spreadsheet.
One hour later
Now I’m drowning in a sea of 200 links with the same pattern of uselessness:
Dead links.
Repeated pages.
Links to more links.
It’s like I wandered into an abandoned garage with a worthless toolbox. Saws without blades. Drills without bits.
Was this just a dump of links? No intern to tidy it up?
It was more like a link dumpster fire.
I felt stranded by the hosts, at a loss for what to do, watching my 120 minutes disintegrate in this burning pile of hyperlinked clutter.
A lesson from disappointment
I’ve always communicated the latest tools with others. People tell me of their email folder just for my references: a vault of value. They’ll visit months later because they trust there’s something beneficial.
For example, with the prominence of generative AI, I’ve sung the praises of Google’s NotebookLM and it’s Audio Overview feature.
Enter text.
Press generate.
Sit back and learn from two AI voices, conversing naturally about the topic.
Teachers told me dream scenarios once they saw the magic in action.
My reputation built a reservoir of goodwill, overflowing back to me when I faced professional hardships.
Call it: a Curation Credibility.
Takes time to build up.
Crashes in an instant.
I was usually the one sharing, so the tables were turned. I was the chef tasting another’s poorly prepared meal, wincing at the bland aftertaste of an under-spiced meal.
You see, it was my first week of school in a new job and I signed up for workshop: “Innovative Learning Classrooms Through AI: Emerging Tools and Innovations”. They promised:
See how AI in Virtual Reality is reshaping K-12 education with immersive tools.
Since this was hosted by a big tech company, I thought this would be helpful. And hey, it’s free, so what could it cost me?
When I joined, I imagined my classroom transformed by compelling gadgets, whisking my students into fantastical world.
But after that massive failure of expectations, this group’s Curation Credibility collapsed.
A virtual vacuum of value.
Navigating a new workplace, disappointment shook me awake. Suddenly, I grasped the gravity of my responsibilities. Carelessly created resources not only waste time but can damage someone’s trusted authority.
Erosion of trust
If the villain is Information Overload, I am the time-saving superhero, swooping into email inboxes with carefully curated content. This is what is meaningful to you.
Bam! less effort for more output.
Pow! creative abilities unlocked.
Throughout the years, even though it wasn’t my official role, I received notes of thanks whenever I sent just-released findings. As the designated tech guru on my new campus, I was leaning on this established brand to supercharge my projects.
In this fast-paced tech world, webinars serve as pit stops where attendees can refuel their knowledge tanks from experts’ unique blend of perspectives. Except in this case, I got cheap fuel, ruining my creativity engine.
Did I get what I paid for? Well, it didn’t cost anything.
Except, I did pay something. My time and attention.
I didn’t expect the hosts to know my professional situation and tailor the experience.
But I also didn’t expect to download a hot mess of links.
Sure, they had flashy showcases, but the disappointment left an unpleasant residue, like biting into a bright red apple only to find it rotten inside.
Could there be some useful jewels tucked away? Maybe.
It’s two months later and the spreadsheet of URLs is covered in a thick coat of pixelated dust. If I dared to consume the links, I might get data indigestion from all the confusion.
Ding
Come join us for even more Innovative Learning Classrooms, Part 2.
What’s their Curation Credibility? Virtually non-existent.
Fool me once, shame on you.
I won’t let you fool me again.
Careful curation
As a resource creator, I was stopped in my tracks.
I aim to be a reliable fountain of distilled gems. Anything I forward should be like a gourmet tasting menu: each item intentionally selected to satisfy my diner’s appetite. Every individual has different tastes. How do I adjust with a personal touch?
Before clicking “send”, I need to pay the cost of my time and attention so that opening the resource feels like unwrapping a thoughtfully crafted gift of knowledge.
There should be a clear answer to:
What’s in it for me?
In transitioning from my former workplace, I received countless well-wishes from people I’ve had the honor to collaborate with. Many said they wanted to keep up with what I was doing.
With that good standing, I’ll make sure anything I deliver to anyone is practical. It doesn’t have to be the tidiness of a high-end art museum. But neither should it be a digital landfill, where precious artifacts are lost in piles of irrelevant junk.
How can they use it immediately?
The most gratifying moments while giving to others is when they unexpectedly reach out for dialogue.
A former colleague called me up right away since it was easier to discuss over the phone vs crafting an email. I was able to answer her questions and learn about her point of view.
Or the IT supervisor who asked for a video call so I could do a live presentation for one of his colleagues.
Better than a YouTube video.
Popping out of the screen like an interactive sherpa.
These shared materials are like Costco samples—no one is required to buy, but everyone should get an easy taste.
Calling all resource providers: let’s honor our audience’s time and attention.
Not only do we squander time, but trust is eroded.
One-star review.
Dislike and unsubscribe.
Bearing these lessons in mind, I don’t want to make the mistake that this company made. I must choose to be purposeful.
Print it out, mark it up.
Ask someone to review.
Use AI to check the sources.
If they dive into that email, I want them to discover a treasure chest of shiny insights. No fool’s gold. Only respect for their electronic message tray.
I strive to be the beacon of clarity, not a source of noise. A trusted anchor in the overwhelming cyber-sea, providing flotillas of relevant wisdom.
Thanks to the crew (mentors/editors/fellow students) at Write of Passage for this first of three essays, especially primary editor .
Curious what kind of stuff you curate for people
“I must choose to be purposeful.” Love how this turned out!