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Are You a Lifelong Learner? An Open University Reflection

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If you’re reading this as a current or former Open University student, there is a fair chance you already know the answer.

You probably are.

The more interesting question is why.

For me, lifelong learning has never really been a choice. It has been a way of making sense of the world. Long before I became an Open University student, I was the child who was forever asking why? Why does that work? Why is that there? Why do people behave as they do? My parents found it exasperating at times. Teachers sometimes found it challenging. But curiosity was never something I could switch off.

Decades later, it was that same curiosity that eventually brought me to the Open University.

Like many OU students, I arrived carrying a great deal of life experience. By then I had already worked in advertising, television production, corporate communications, online media and training. I had spent years producing educational and corporate films, managing projects and helping organisations communicate more effectively. Yet I felt there were questions I still wanted to explore and ideas I wanted to develop more rigorously.

The Open University gave me something I hadn’t fully appreciated I was missing: time and structure for serious thinking.

Studying for the MA in Open and Distance Education wasn’t simply about acquiring knowledge. It was about learning how to think more deeply about learning itself. Reflective practice became one of the most valuable habits I developed. Instead of merely doing things, I found myself examining why I did them, how I learned from them, and how my understanding changed over time.

One of the great strengths of the Open University is that it attracts people who are learning not because they have to, but because they want to. That creates a very different atmosphere from much conventional education. Many of my fellow students were balancing careers, families, caring responsibilities, health challenges and financial pressures. Yet they were also some of the most motivated learners I have ever encountered.

There is something quietly inspiring about people studying at eleven o’clock at night after a full day’s work, or writing assignments at the kitchen table while the rest of the family sleeps.

The OU also reinforced something I have observed throughout my life: learning rarely travels in a straight line.

I struggled with French at school, yet years later I found myself living and working in France, interviewing people in French, translating and even dreaming in the language. Technology transformed industries I worked in several times over. I learned on manual typewriters, moved to early personal computers, embraced websites, blogging, social media, online learning and now artificial intelligence. Every decade seemed to demand a new set of skills.

The alternative would have been standing still while the world moved on.

Yet lifelong learning is not simply about keeping up with technology. Some of the subjects that interest me most today would have surprised my younger self. Philosophy. Politics. Town planning. Educational technology. The psychology of learning itself. Often one book leads to another, then to an article, a podcast, a discussion, an online course and eventually a practical project. Curiosity has a habit of opening unexpected doors.

The Open University understands something that many educational institutions overlook: mature learners bring experience with them.

When I studied with the OU, discussions were enriched by people drawing on careers in nursing, engineering, teaching, business, the armed forces, social work and countless other fields. Learning became a conversation between theory and experience. Sometimes the most valuable insights emerged not from the course materials but from fellow students applying those ideas to their own lives.

Teaching and coaching have reinforced this lesson for me. Whether mentoring colleagues, supporting learners online or coaching young swimmers, I have repeatedly discovered that teaching is another form of learning. Every question reveals assumptions. Every explanation exposes gaps in understanding. Learning and teaching are not opposites; they are part of the same continuous process.

Over the years I have become less interested in qualifications as endpoints and more interested in learning as a lifelong habit.

Qualifications matter, of course. They provide structure, challenge and recognition. But the deeper reward lies elsewhere. It lies in remaining curious. In refusing to become intellectually complacent. In being willing to change your mind when new evidence appears. In recognising that however much you know, there is always more to discover.

One lesson the Open University taught me particularly well is that learning requires engagement. As someone who has spent much of his career around educational technology, I was once convinced that technology itself might transform learning. Computers, online courses, interactive media, mobile devices and now AI have all promised educational revolutions.

What I have come to appreciate is that while technology can support learning brilliantly, it cannot replace the essential ingredients. Learning still requires effort. Reflection. Experimentation. Failure. Discussion. Persistence. The most effective educational technologies help us engage more deeply; they do not do the learning for us.

Perhaps that is why so many OU graduates continue learning long after their formal studies have ended.

The habit becomes part of who you are.

You start an OU course because you want a qualification. You finish it with something more valuable: the confidence to tackle subjects you once thought beyond you.

Looking back, I realise that lifelong learning has shaped every stage of my life. It helped me adapt to changing careers, embrace new technologies, learn languages, coach others, understand history, engage with contemporary issues and make sense of my own experiences.

At sixty-four, I am still studying, still reading, still asking questions and still finding new subjects to explore.

The older I get, the less I feel that learning is about accumulating knowledge.

Instead, it is about remaining open to the world.

And if there is one thing the Open University taught me, it is that it is never too late to begin. Nor, thankfully, is there ever any need to stop.

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Design Museum

What makes this blog of value

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Especially to me.

This is a learning journal. It charts my learning journey. It records, curates and collates what I studied, what I had to say at the time and even holds mundane things like notes from units and books/papers read. 

At times I have questioned its long term value. My career has been spent in education and training though, albeit 'corporate training and communications' using linear video, and then a move to the web with a few personal hijinks on the way as I decided I could and should be writing a novel or screenplay while raising the kids.

A year in education, at the front line, if only in a support role, and about to embark on teacher training, I am finding I am calling on the contents of this blog quite often to pull together my thoughts, the ideas of the experts and to formulate this into something practical.

My current target is feedback and assessment. I put these 'Search' and get links to a few dozen posts. I then go through these and slowly put together a practical plan. Today it is a 1 hour teach the teacher session on digital feedback and assessment. I think there is an angle on students with accessibility needs relating to learning and challenging behaviour. 

So here we go.

Or rather, here you go.

You are interested in 'assessment' or 'feedback' as it related to elearning - search for it here. 

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Dusty Rhodes

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Edited by Jonathan Vernon, Saturday 1 May 2010 at 17:37

Our Geography teacher had most of us (all ?) achieve A Grades at A Level. When it came to writing essays his advice was simple and he drew a flower on the board with six petals.

The stem was both the introduction and conclusion, the centre of flower was the essay title. Six petals, perhaps eight would do it. Each would be a point, well made, with quotes/references.

Often he'd summarise his thoughts on a boy's essay by drawing a dishevelled weed ... or more simply a three petalled plant with one huge, deformed petal ... and so on.

I was never one for the perfect plant. Often I'd be the one with twelve petals, some tiny some so massive they took on the entire board. One essay I remember submitting filled an entire exercise book (I still have it, sad, I know. It was Geography, meteorology, he taught as to undergraduate level). I regress (and digress).

After two years we sat exams. By then by editing down and picking out what I felt mattered I went into the exam well prepared, armed to the teeth. I could easily give up ten minutes of the 45 mins to write on a topic to planning, the six or so main points, the pulling from my head a mnemonic that would deliver a dozen or twenty or more facts. And then I wrote. This worked.

Course work would have suffocated me. I lack that consistency and self-discipline, or more likely, I drain so much energy intermittently that I just have to 'chill' from time to time. I'm not one for drawing early conclusions, nor am I one for regurgitating what is wanted from me because of what specifically I have been asked to read - I will always look beyond the references.

In particular, I would prefer to sit down to write naked ... jsut me and the keyboard, no notes. For the information to have gathered in the rigth spot in my head I need to have worked with the material, to have discussed and debated it, to got it wrong and been corrected, to have asked questions, and to have figured it out. I have to believe it.

Working in a Web Agency when first doing an OU course on distance learning the topics were of interest every day to colleagues so it was like being on a campus, or certainly in a faculty. And as we believed or thought that the aim of a university degree or studying was to get a job there was a degree of arrogance - we had jobs. We were in it, doing it. We had to know best, or certainly quite well, otherwise why would companies & government pays us to do our thing?

I ramble. Or reflect. Whether I can reflect my way into some higher level of sublime understanding though is quite another matter. A decade ago blogging obsessively there were a group of us who read and responded to everything we wrote. Doing this I feel I am writing with a fountain pen on the ceiling of a catacomb.

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