Driving School
By Gregory Ronczewski, Director of Product Design at Ibbaka. See his skill profile.
Recently, I found myself almost exclusively sitting in the passenger seat when in a car. The letter L securely fixed on the tailgate offers a clue on why I am not driving anymore. Instead, I am tasked with providing instructions ,which I realized is not what I do well. For example, telling my son to "stay in my lane" or "start turning the other way" makes a lot of sense to me, but these instructions are way too abstract for him to understand correctly what I expected him to do, especially when we are on the highway. At one point, he got fed up with the ambiguous instructions, and we got into an argument leading me to a revelation that I am terrible at giving instructions. Inevitably this realization brought back memories of learning to drive and my dad, who was very patient with me even when shifting gears resulted in rather unpleasant sounds coming from the gearbox.
Was he a better teacher? Perhaps. I do remember, though, when my dad decided to teach my mom how to drive. It was an Easter Sunday, and we were on our way to see grandparents who lived at that time in a small house surrounded by gentle hills with many lakes nestled between them. After leaving the paved road, my parents switched seats and, with my mom behind the wheel, we entered a labyrinth of sandy one-lane tracks, which for some unknown reason formed little canyons deep enough to render the car invisible from the fields and meadows. Sitting in the back, holding a basket with eggs, bread, ham and salt, I saw my dad turning towards my very nervous mom and telling her with a big smile on his face, "my dear, the next turn, make it wide." He moved his right hand in a broad gesture to make a point. So my mother followed precisely his instructions, and the next right turn, the front left wheel started to climb the wall surrounding the road…
ZAZ Zaporozhets was very similar to NSU Prinz, coincident?
Before we knew it, the car was on its side, engine revving desperately. The eggs flew out of the basket, and I was covered with salt. My dad climbed over my mom, who was constantly mumbling, "I wrecked the car, I wrecked the car," and got us out of the trap. The car was fine. It was a Russian-made Zaporozhets 968, which was almost an exact copy of the German NSU, and, of course, nobody knew why those two were so similar. The car was sturdy, and flipping it on its side did nothing to it. I was very fond of this machine, especially in the winter. It had an independent heating system that looked like a small jet engine. The car was popular in Russia, and its lightweight and heating allowed people to drive in winter on the frozen lakes. Once in the right spot, one would turn off the engine leaving the heating on, open a secret hatch on the passenger side floor, et voilà - a heated cabin ready for a good afternoon of ice fishing.
Anyhow, I realized that "my lane" needs to become "the right lane." No more abstract instructions. Explanations need to be made beforehand. When everything is straightforward, there will be fewer possibilities for an error. It's all about perception.
“Perception is not something that happens to us. It is something we do.”
Alva Noë, philosopher
Now, if unclear instructions can confuse in the face-to-face situations, how much more confusing when there is no instructor to assess the situation and offer supportive comments based on our actions?
We are in the process of changing several interactions related to claiming, suggesting and accepting skills on the Ibbaka Talent platform. It becomes complicated quickly when we add a team context or several teams or projects. But it should not. Possibly adding more information could result in a simplification of the process. Recent neuroscience research points to findings that our brain is constantly running multiple action-perception cycles. If there is not enough information, the brain will substitute missing data using memories to fill the gaps. In other words, if we provide enough meaningful information organized in visually clean UI, we may help the user to assess what action needs to be performed quickly and without the need for the brain to dig deeper into memory. There is a fascinating book by Mark Allan Hewitt, Draw in Order to See. A Cognitive History of Architectural Design. If you are interested in the connection between the sketching and understanding of the world around us, it is a must-read (at Ibbaka we regard sketching as a critical skill). Working, teaching and learning are now inseparable—the blend of machine-assisted design changes what did not change for thousands of years.
Vancouver House towering over Granville Street Bridge. Photo credits: Ian Ius / Daily Hive
Architecture is an excellent example of a discipline where computing is responsible for creating spaces not imaginable before. Are those new buildings which often defy gravity livable? Are we able to process visual clues and still feel safe? Deep inside, we are not very different from the guys who lived in the stone huts. What about virtual spaces? The user interface on a smart phone, tablet or a laptop for example. This stuff gets complicated fast, and the only way to keep us sane is to apply lessons on clarity, simplicity and perception. Lessons I need to prepare for before I can call myself a driving instructor.
