I've spent the last several blog posts talking about online
communities, algorithms, digital footprints, adaptive data tracking, messaging
apps, and the ways social media shapes how we learn. This week, though, I
experienced something that made me realize some of the best learning
technologies don't always feel like learning technologies. I spent 3 days at
Disney World, which may be 1 to 2 days longer than needed with my 6-year-old
daughter and my 5- and 7-year-old nephews.
Now, before anyone says, "Of course the Disney app is
good—they're Disney," hear me out. I wasn't impressed because it looked
pretty (aesthetically, it is nice though). I was impressed because it quietly
became my performance support system for the week. I never had to ask a Cast
Member where the nearest restroom was. I never wondered whether Pirates of the
Caribbean had a shorter wait than Tiana’s Water Ride (which is not a disappointment,
considering all the hardcore Splash Mountain fans). I never questioned whether
I should mobile order lunch now or wait another hour. I could place orders for
pickup at lunch kiosks and restaurants on the parks’ sites. The app answered
those questions before they became problems- I believe that’s exactly what
performance support is supposed to do.
Instead of requiring me to remember maps, restaurant hours,
ride locations, Lightning Lane reservations, or even when the next bus was
arriving to take us back to the hotel, the Disney World app provided information
precisely when I needed it. It reduced the mental workload of navigating a park
visited by thousands of people every day. The more I thought about it, the more
I realized Disney wasn't trying to teach me how to use Disney World. It was
helping me perform successfully inside Disney World.
This week's readings discuss how social media and online
communities become more valuable when they move beyond broadcasting information
and instead encourage interaction, responsiveness, and community building.
Young and Rossmann (2015) describe how a university library dramatically
increased community engagement after shifting away from one-way announcements
toward personality-rich content and genuine interactions with users. Rather
than simply posting information, they intentionally designed their social media
around connecting with people, responding to questions, and creating a stronger
sense of community. Disney does something similar: the app certainly broadcasts
information like attraction wait times and parade schedules, but that's only
part of its purpose. It also helps guests coordinate plans with one another,
manage Lightning Lane reservations, place mobile food orders, locate family
members, navigate unfamiliar spaces, and share experiences throughout the day.
Instead of existing as a digital brochure, it becomes an active participant in
the park experience. I also appreciated something I normally complain about in
apps… ironically, the notifications I ranted about earlier this week.
The more useful the app became, the more often I found
myself staring at my phone instead of the environment around me. I caught
myself checking wait times while walking through beautifully themed lands,
comparing dining reservations instead of enjoying the atmosphere, and
refreshing ride availability almost like checking social media. There were
moments when I had to intentionally put my phone away and remember why I came
in the first place. The best performance support systems reduce cognitive load,
but they shouldn't replace the experience they're supporting.
If I had one takeaway from using the Disney World app, it's
that effective digital design isn't just about providing information. It's
about anticipating users' needs, delivering support at the right moment, and
helping communities accomplish their goals together. Disney designed an app
that doesn't simply tell guests where to go; it helps thousands of people
navigate the same shared space while minimizing confusion and maximizing
enjoyment.
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