Pathways to Learning

I just came out of a meeting related to education and started thinking about how many different educational models we can call to mind from personal experience or shared anecdotes, and their relative success rates.

There is the authoritative model, where the representative of a powerful system knows best and attempts to squeeze students through little compartments in the machine in order to crank out identical copies of the original. I am thinking of the colonial approach to government, business and education in many countries; and in particular, the residential school system in Canada, with the deep divisions and identity-crushing suffering this type of model can inflict on individuals and on society as a whole.

At the opposite end of the scale is the free-for-all, "here for a good time, not a long time" model, where the group animator is just a "buddy-old-pal" who has no authority and expects students to figure everything out for themselves; this system drives students for a long distance in a top-of-the-line party bus and then drops them off with a hangover and fuzzy memories at the edge of the jungle to fight their way through the chaos on their own, without a clear sense of direction or the necessary gear... and is then surprised how few of them succeed.

In my mind, the best model is one that offers a guide for a challenging hiking journey. In this model, students are travelling to a destination they have chosen for themselves, but have access to quiet expertise which can be called upon as needed. In this model, individuals receive advance preparation and training for the potential risks and obstacles, learn the sense of agility required to adjust the route as needed based on circumstance and ability, and benefit from constant companionship and shared stories along the way, which leave both student and guide stronger, more connected and fulfilled when the goal is reached.

Cultivating Patience

We live in a hasty world, structured more and more around the goal of immediate gratification. We want what we want, we want it now, and we want it with as little work as possible on our own part. 

I recently took up knitting again. Other than a few ambitious sweater projects in my youth, I have always been a plain knitter, sticking to the simple stitches to create hats and scarves for family and friends. For some reason, my interest was recently piqued by an online class on lace knitting at  Craftsy.com...so I picked up my knitting needles, settled down in front of the video and began to learn some new techniques. After ripping back to the beginning about four or five times—sometimes after an entire week's worth of effort—I was feeling a bit discouraged and shared my feelings of inadequacy with a friend who is a master knitter. To my surprise, she told me that she OFTEN has to rip back and start over in her projects, too.

It got me thinking about perseverance and patience, and the importance of taking the time to do things right. I thought about why I had started the project in the first place. 

Once I realized how much of my effort was invested in showing off the final result, and in pressuring myself to completion, I was more able forgive myself if I made mistakes, to relax and enjoy each stitch—especially when I learned a new technique of inserting a "lifeline" once a certain portion of the project was done correctly, so that I don't have to rip everything out if I make a mistake! I even enrolled in a second lace knitting class and bought some new wool (alpaca and merino! yummy!) for the next project.

As makers, we are just as prone to impatience as the next guy...we want to see the final product blossom, we want to know how it's going to turn out. Cut to the chase, already!

But masters in all fields of endeavour know that projects of true value cannot be rushed to completion; seeds that are forced to grow too quickly are straggly and weak, unlikely to survive; trees that grow quickly are soft and not very useful for building things that last; even as firewood, they burn out quickly and don't produce a lasting heat. 

And so I say: take the time, make the time... cultivate patience with yourself and with others... the effort is worthwhile and will make itself known in the quality of the final result.

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UPDATE: And here is the final result!

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

It has been said that we stand on the shoulders of giants. We don't start from zero in our understanding of the world and how things work; we are privileged to begin where others left off.

Standing on the shoulders of giants offers a lofty place to catch a glimpse of wider horizons... but we can't spend our whole life riding along up there. We also need to come down to earth on a regular basis, to notice and appreciate the small and intricate miracles right at our feet, as we navigate our own small path through the world.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

There are often generational and ideological differences within a team that can make work feel more like an unpredictable succession of power struggles than a productive collaboration.

ROCK: The eldest of us grew up in times of relative hardship, lifted by our own bootstraps, trained in self-effacement, in search of elusive respect earned only by being steady as a rock, by exerting ourselves over and above the expected benchmarks by the sweat of our brow. Objects were built to last; jobs were for a lifetime; the arc was slow and steady and the road stretched out for miles. 

PAPER: The youngest of us have grown up in relative affluence and abundance, with disposable income and disposable possessions, with constant affirmations of our value and worth... ironically leading to a potentially fragile self-esteem, a sense of instability like a house of cards sheltered from a strong external gust of wind. Paradoxically, this instability can also become a strength: the ability to let go and rebuild, reshaping as often as required. This path is winding, crooked, erratic... and potentially full of possibility.

SCISSORS: The dividing line runs through the meeting ground—or lack thereof—between these generations or ideologies. The elders see the young'uns learning how to fold a paper airplane... and immediately assuming that they are ready to fly the space shuttle. The younger see the elders still chipping away at a Stone Age wheel day after day in hope of perfection... and hiding in caves from the changing weather.

I exaggerate, of course... but our perceptions are magnified by a defensive sense of our own relative worth, a focus on our own positive qualities with less emphasis on the ways in which we might be weaker; after all, it's much nicer to imagine that we're somehow more talented, more capable and more trained than the others around us.

Can we find the middle ground between confidence and humility? How do we arrive at a realistic assessment of our relative skills and abilities, accepting and valuing the relative skills and abilities of others? Can we give or accept constructive criticism, keep an open and co-operative attitude to learning, growing, sharing?

Let's turn our swords into ploughshares: instead of using our rock, paper or scissors as weapons to beat each other at the game, let's make something with them... together. 

The Continuing Saga of the Toolbox: Apprenticeship

So you've got a toolbox loaded with a bunch of tools. Now what?

Most workplaces require some initial training in the use of appropriate tools; toolbox-centred trades traditionally rely on some form of apprenticeship program. In addition to understanding the mechanics of how each tool works, an apprentice gains experience in diagnosing problems and reviewing appropriate criteria to determine which tool to apply to each task. The apprentice/mentor relationship allows a gradual transfer of knowledge/wisdom during the actual practice of doing the work. If both parties are willing and open-minded, this approach minimizes risk and maximizes opportunity to build partnerships and share insights, whether from a fresh or experienced perspective. It also adds a personal element to a professional practice with the ability to ask and answer on the spot.

[NOTE: I am familiar with the concept of an apprenticeship, but have never formally undergone the process. I would be interested to hear other thoughts on the subject.]

Don't get me wrong, I don't think apprenticeship is the only way to learn: YouTube and other video-based forms of online training have expanded specialized learning to a new level beyond the basic search capabilities of the internet and democratized it across ages, income levels and cultures. The ability to customize learning and offer real-time interactions between teachers and students has grown in leaps and bounds, and the internet has dissolved international boundaries (my stepson initially learned a lot of his guitar techniques from an online mentor in Australia.) 

I am fascinated by online learning: I have had a subscription to lynda.com (one of the earliest online providers for professional software/design training) for several years and highly recommend it... and based on a recent and ongoing conversation in one of my LinkedIn groups, it is obvious that others agree... very strongly... very VERY strongly. Lynda.com has created an intensely loyal following through their continuing commitment to meet the needs of their users.

I frequently register for free online webinars on topics of interest related to the design business; and recently subscribed to several classes (free and paid) on Craftsy to explore new horizons and to expand existing knowledge related to my spare time creative projects. Last but not least, my team at work continues to create and deliver customized online training programs in areas such as marine safety and customer service for clients, in addition to our other design work.

I think the apprentice/mentor approach is evolving and changing in our digital culture, but will still require real people to participate, people who are willing to learn and people who are willing to share their knowledge and experience.

I hope to continue to do both... how about you?