After reading “You Must Be Present to Win” in which I argued that students should take the initiative to get to know instructors outside the classroom, a colleague sent me an e-mail in which he rightly observed, “Your part about outside contact between students and instructors has one structural barrier.” His analysis of the structural barriers faced by adjunct faculty members who often do not have an office nor the time/commitment to spend a great deal of time on campus—especially those who teach on multiple campuses or have other employment outside their teaching-is an issue that needs to be addressed. Instead of responding to those legitimate concerns, I would argue that such concerns were outside the focus or the essay I wrote.

However, his observation that “I am not sure that your comments speak well to online students” is much more revealing about one of the dangers we face in education; a danger that can prevent even the best intended of us to overlook crucial information. Cathy N. Davidson¹ has described this danger as attention blindness, a phenomenon where in looking at one thing too closely, we can literally miss a gorilla who walks across the basketball court.²

Although I have previously been very involved in on-line education, during the past few years I have been teaching fewer and fewer distance learning classes. I had reached the point where I was only teaching one on-line class a year during Spring semester; a class I have decided to stop teaching. As my time in the on-line classroom has diminished, I have developed significant attention blindness in an area in which I once had significant expertise. Until receiving the e-mail from my colleague, I had not realized the extent to which I had developed blindness toward the needs of on-line students.

For some, Dr. Davidson offers a surprising analysis when she argues, “Attention blindness is the fundamental structuring principle of the brain, and I believe that it presents us with a tremendous opportunity.” She goes on to explain, “My take is different from that of many neuroscientists: Where they perceive the shortcomings of the individual, I sense an opportunity for collaboration.”³

Unfortunately, for some individuals, embracing the opportunity for collaboration is problematic. These individuals cannot admit that they have a problem with attention blindness. As academics, we take pride in our intellectual abilities and do not appreciate having our well considered conclusions challenged. Yet, this is the wrong way to look at the issue.

Recognizing attention blindness does not imply a defect of intellectual rigor. Instead, it recognizes the reality that we cannot see every aspect of an issue; that—as the cliche teaches—the group is smarter than the individual.

When my colleague pointed out the attention blindness I exhibited in “You Must Be Present to Win,” he was not saying that what I wrote was incorrect or ill informed or lacked serious thought. Only that my essay was incomplete. Fortunately, I am able to accept his observation and welcome him into a collaborative dialogue about student success.

No one of us has the solution to anything. Because of attention blindness, anything we write is going to be incomplete. But, if we are willing to acknowledge our attention blindness and then enter into constructive dialogue with individuals from a variety of perspectives, we are better able to promote success for students and for ourselves.

–Steven L. Berg, PhD

¹See Dr. Davidson’s author’s blog for more information on her recent book: Now You See It: How the Brain Science of Attention Will Transform the Way We Live, Work, and Learn.

²Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons tested selective attention with a video they produced in 1999. People viewing the video did not see a gorilla because they were so busy concentrating on something else.

³Davidson, Cathy N. “Collaborative Learning for the Digital Age.” The Chronicle Review. 26 August 2011.