An area of my work that has grown substantially in the last 12 months or so is around the accessibility and inclusivity of our learning technologies. (There’s an argument here that it should always have been a large part of our sector, but that’s a discussion for another time!)

Every learner has different approaches, needs and barriers to their studies, but for some these are more substantial than others. For those of us who don’t have such distinct barriers it can be difficult to understand the impact these can have. How much more difficult is it really to read when you have dyslexia? How much does it affect you to use a particular system if you are colour blind? Or partially sighted? Or profoundly deaf?

There are a variety of web browser plugins that can simulate many of the conditions that learners may experience, and it’s great to have that opportunity, but for most of us we try it, experience it, nod sagely and then turn it off. We don’t have to live with it. Wouldn’t our understanding deepen if we did?

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This Lent, as with many recent years, there are numerous articles, news reports etc regarding how addictive our smartphones are, and how giving up our phones for Lent would be a good idea. One interesting article from LifeHacker talks about reducing your addiction by turning on your phone’s greyscale mode.

Now, I’m not fussed about my addiction to my smartphone (I’ll admit I’m addicted!), but the article got me thinking – what would be the impact on my use of my phone if I couldn’t see colour? How does that simulate the ideas of accessibility barriers that learners face?

So, for Lent, I’m giving up colour on my iPhone. I’m going to live with a colourless device through till Easter and see how it changes my behaviours and attitudes, and I’ll post my thoughts on it here. Maybe that can help me understand in just a very small way what some learners face every day.