Aastha B

Working on the Produsage assignment was one of those moments where everything just clicked . As I sat down to design my project and reflected on the concept of Web 2.0, I realized something surprising—I had already been part of the Web 2.0 world for years. I just didn’t know that’s what it was called. From contributing to community Facebook groups in Nepal, to posting educational updates on the Kids of Kathmandu YouTube channel, to organizing digital resources for teachers, I had been participating, creating, and collaborating online long before I encountered the term “produsage.” It was like rediscovering my own work through a new lens. This assignment gave me the language and framework to understand what I had already been doing. It showed me that my informal learning efforts, digital community building, and user-generated content weren’t just side projects; they were meaningful examples of how learning can happen through shared creation and participation. Designing the Digital Cl...

When I first came to the U.S. for graduate school, everything felt unfamiliar—new systems, new expectations, new ways of learning. I quickly realized that education here wasn’t just about memorizing content or listening quietly in a lecture hall. It was about engaging, questioning, and contributing. And for me, that was both exciting and terrifying. Web 2.0 became my unexpected companion in this journey. Tools like Padlet, Slack, blogs, and discussion forums helped me slowly find my footing. In the beginning, I was nervous about sharing my ideas publicly. I worried about my grammar, about “sounding smart,” or even about whether my cultural background would be understood. But as the course moved forward, I began to feel something shift. These platforms weren’t just digital tools; they were spaces where my voice mattered. Padlet became a place where I could share my thoughts freely without fear of judgment. Slack let me ask questions and connect with classmates without needing to speak...

Looking back on this course, I’ve realized that Web 2.0 isn’t just about using the latest tools. It’s about a shift in how we think about learning. We are no longer passive learners; we’re active contributors . Through blog writing, digital projects, and group activities, I’ve learned how to share my ideas with others and build on theirs, too. At first, I was nervous about using tools I hadn’t tried before. But each assignment helped me grow. I especially liked the Produsage assignment because it showed how we can design learning spaces that support real collaboration. It reminded me that education should be more interactive, inclusive, and student-centered. This course helped me reflect on how I learn, how I connect with others, and how I can make a difference even in digital spaces. Web 2.0 showed me that my voice matters, and that’s something I’ll carry with me beyond the classroom. With Gratitute  -Aastha

In the U.S., I’ve noticed social media is often used for sharing opinions, professional networking, or following trends. But in Nepal, the role of social media feels more foundational . It’s a lifeline for families separated by geography, a classroom for those without formal education, and a marketplace for people with no physical storefront.   The Pew reports this week confirmed what I’ve always felt: social media serves very different roles in different economies. In wealthier countries, it’s about identity, influence, and expression. In developing countries, it’s about access to information , to opportunity, to connection. Both are valid, but they operate on very different terms. As an international student, I see these contrasts every day, and I think we need to talk about them more.

One of the things I’ve struggled with since moving to the U.S. is deciding what language to use on social media. Back home in Nepal, I post in Nepali; it feels natural, personal, and real. But here, I’ve noticed that when I post in English, more people engage. It’s as if English isn’t just a language, it’s a requirement for visibility.   This week’s reading reminded me that even though social media is expanding in developing countries, the platforms themselves often prioritize English. That leaves people like me with a choice: post authentically in my own language or switch to English to be seen. I sometimes feel like I’m translating myself just to belong in digital spaces. It’s empowering to have a voice, but frustrating when it feels like I must speak in someone else’s tongue to be heard.  

 This week’s readings brought up so many feelings for me—especially the Pew Research Center report that compared social media use in developed and developing countries. It was like seeing my own life split in two. On one side, I’m a student in the U.S., with fast Wi-Fi, multiple devices, and endless digital tools. On the other hand, I think of home, where a single smartphone serves a whole family, and where Facebook might be someone’s first experience with the internet. The contrast is striking. In Nepal, we don’t think of social media as optional—it’s essential. It connects migrant parents to their children, helps teachers find learning resources, and allows local shopkeepers to advertise without a budget. It’s amazing what people do with limited resources. And yet, I also see how language and infrastructure still create invisible walls . Platforms are mostly in English. Data is expensive. And people often feel left behind, even when they’re technically online. What I’m learning...

This week’s readings really hit home for me, especially the story of a student who participated fully in an online module but still struggled to meet academic expectations. It made me reflect on my own experience as an international student navigating graduate school in a completely new way .   During my first semester, I did everything I thought I was supposed to do. I kept up with the readings, contributed to class discussions, and stayed engaged throughout the course. But when I got my final grades, they weren’t what I had expected. The feedback mentioned that my work lacked “criticality”—a word that, at the time, I didn’t fully understand.   Back in Nepal, where I completed my undergraduate studies, we focused heavily on structured arguments and summarizing ideas from texts. The concept of challenging an author’s perspective or interrogating underlying assumptions wasn’t something I had been taught to do. So, when I came here and was expected to “analyze critically,” ...

It’s easy to assume that students are “engaged” when they’re active on discussion forums, logging in to the LMS, and commenting on blogs. But being active and being engaged aren’t always the same thing.   This week, I kept wondering: Am I actually learning from these online interactions, or just performing what I think good students should do? I’m not proud to admit this, but sometimes I reply to peers not because I’m deeply moved by their ideas, but because the syllabus says I have to . I’ve seen other students do the same: short, formulaic replies that barely engage with the original post.   This performative aspect of digital learning makes me question what engagement really looks like. It’s not about how many posts you write, but what kind of thinking those posts represent . Yet, the system we operate in tends to reward frequency over depth. The irony is that even though we have all these “Web 2.0” tools that promise collaboration and creativity, the structure aro...

As an international student navigating graduate school in the U.S., I’ve grown used to the idea that learning is as much about asking the right questions as it is about finding the right answers. But this week, I’ve been thinking a lot about how online learning platforms, such as discussion boards, blogs, and group wikis, create a different kind of classroom. A classroom where everyone is watching, everything is traceable, and silence can feel louder than it does in person.   In one of my classes, I remember hesitating for hours before clicking “ Post Reply .” I wondered: Will my writing make sense? Am I referencing the reading correctly? What if my English doesn’t sound academic enough? In that moment, I realized how visible I felt. It’s not the same as raising your hand in class; once you post something online, it stays there. It becomes part of your “academic self.”   What complicates things even more is how feedback is delivered. When it's encouraging and specific, ...

  These days, I find myself moving between multiple digital identities. On some platforms, I’m the academic—sharing research, joining conversations, commenting on policy. On others, I’m a community leader, a storyteller, a teacher , a parent. I’ve realized that navigating this landscape isn’t just about posting, it’s about understanding the difference between visibility and voice .   Visibility is easy to chase . You can post flashy images, share buzzwords, or join trending conversations. But voice is harder. Voice means showing up with authenticity and clarity , even when you’re unsure how it will land. It means sharing not only your successes, but your struggles and questions, too.   In digital learning spaces, this matters more than ever. When I post a reflection about a difficult day in the classroom or a question I’m wrestling with in my research, I often get the most thoughtful replies. Not because the post was polished, but because it was real.   Th...

  Creating a digital space is easy. Creating a digital community is not .   Too often, I’ve joined a class discussion board or an online group with great intentions, only to see it fall silent after a few weeks. Not because the people weren’t engaged, but because the space wasn’t designed for connection . Tools like Slack, Discord, or Facebook offer features for communication, but without intentional design, these features don’t automatically lead to meaningful interaction.   What I’ve learned is that community is not a side effect of technology; it’s the outcome of thoughtful design . It comes from asking: What kind of conversations do we want here? How do we invite people in? Who feels seen and who doesn’t ? How do we create rituals of interaction, not just announcements?   In the spaces I’ve designed or managed, whether student groups, professional forums, or grassroots education collectives, the most sustainable ones weren’t the ones with the fanciest to...