I have observed that when a person does something well--either naturally or by extensive practice since their youth--they are often perplexed or incredulous when they encounter someone who struggles with that same task, and they have difficulty teaching it at the level the unskilled person requires to learn it. This is true for basic academic tasks like reading and mathematics, motor skills like tying shoes and laying bricks, more advanced tasks like writing computer code and playing piano, and combined mental and motor skills like soccer and painting. Teaching is as much a skill--and art--as any of these, and must be taught and learned, as well.
The best teachers, many have said, are those who struggled with the skill themselves, for they have discovered the best methods for learning it and have a greater patience for the unskilled. The naturally skilled person can learn these methods and increase their patience, but teaching the task comes less easily than the skill itself. Thus, skilled persons tend to do one of four things: Often, they start out assuming a higher level of understanding than
what exists and proceed to throw bewildering instructions at the
student, assign
practice above the student's skill level, and essentially bang their
head
against the wall of the student's inexperience. In time, such people
may realize their error and wisely change tactics, acting in this second manner: They will try to view the matter from the unskilled person's point of view and will do all they can to make it understandable at the student's level--though this may require many faulty attempts until they learn how to evaluate the student's skill and teach appropriately. Unfortunately, it seems that just as often as skilled people "wise up," others instead become increasingly frustrated and finally take over the task themselves, thus getting it "right" and bringing themselves relief, but neglecting the education of the unskilled person. Fourth and finally, they may simply give up or refuse to teach, leaving that task to others, feeling content to use their skill themselves without the stress of passing it on. (The student may respond in a similar manner--finding alternate tutorials and doing extra work to improve, becoming frustrated and remaining half-dependent, or simply giving up. This parallel, however, is off a bit off topic.)
Teaching a skill requires clear explanations, careful demonstration, guided practice, and independent practice--sometimes quite slowly with repetition of one or more phases until the mind and body can claim the skill as their own. Lacking one phase, the student may fail to learn the skill. To illustrate, say a cook demonstrates the professional way to stir a liquid-filled skillet and then hands over the spoon to the student, yet watches with increasing agitation, giving instructions the student doesn't understand and therefore cannot implement. He finally snatches back the spoon half a minute later, crying, "No! Like this!" The mystified student may watch and see no difference between his own stirring and that of the teacher's, and may privately decide that his own way is good enough, so he won't risk the cook's ire to learn where he went wrong. (I will admit that this example is drawn from memory; I'm still not sure if I stir the "right" way, but at least I don't usually scorch the bottom of my gravies.)
This understanding of skill transference has application in all manner of teaching moments--both professional and domestic. I have to keep it in mind while helping kids learn to write well, when teaching a friend to cook, or when explaining how to use a USB drive. However, while the explanation in this post seems straightforward and while I've seen excellent demonstrations of teaching my whole life, this head-knowledge will not avail me by itself; I must put it into practice, and by discipline and repetition, perhaps I'll finally learn the skill of teaching well.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Saturday, September 15, 2012
On the Danger of Thinking
We've often heard someone say, "I was thinking . . ." and heard the joking response, "That's dangerous!" Thinking can indeed be dangerous, and not just in the tongue-in-cheek manner of, "thinking means you must be planning to trouble me." We can get rather carried away by our thoughts, which is frightening when we remember that they direct all our actions for good or evil.
Thought, being swifter than action, is more difficult to control; we can restrict ourselves from acting on thoughts more easily than we can stop thinking them. For example, reason may impose itself and keep us from striking someone, but the anger and desire to crack bones may remain, along with the attendant ill effects on our bodies, minds, and souls. Similarly, we may not give outsiders a hint of feelings like hatred and jealousy, but they may exist inside us, and uncurbed, may turn us stubbornly bitter and harsh and begin to negatively affect our relationship with God and other people. Likewise, dark thoughts of self-hate and shame and hopelessness, if allowed to fester, can lead us to disbelieve or despair of God's grace and may result in self-destructive or homicidal action. Even when we "act before we think," that action will be based on our long-time habit of thought, which will affect whether we instinctively recoil from a threat or jump to rescue someone in danger, or whether we squeak in surprise or utter a startled curse. As the good book says, "The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks" (Luke 6:45 ESV).
Our knowledge of right and wrong may not preserve us from dangerous thoughts nor be enough to prompt us to replace our "evil treasure" for "good treasure." As Paul wrote, "I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing" (Romans 7:18b-19 ESV). Even if we want to imagine innocuous reasons why someone is late, our minds may summon up morbid images of disaster; even if we want to banish some unclean thought, it may sneak back in and seduce us into dwelling on it; even if we want to concentrate, our minds may stray again and again, which may have inconvenient or even deadly consequences. The mind can wander down many other dangerous lanes if allowed--revenge, despair, self-righteousness, erroneous worldviews, apostasy--and we may not recognize their danger or wrongness in the same way we recognize the danger of placing our foot on a rotten stairstep or the wrongness of abusing a child. If left to wander too long, our thoughts may entrench themselves in untruths, convinced the stairstep is safe or the child deserved the abuse--or that it wasn't abuse at all.
No amount of reasoning and pleading and rebukes from others can affect our thoughts unless we embrace them and change our thinking; as psychologists say, "You have to want to change," or in the words of Solomon, "The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice" (Proverbs 12:15 ESV). Thus, "Do not reprove a scoffer, or he will hate you; reprove a wise man, and he will love you" (Proverbs 9:8 ESV). I would insert, however, that a fool may still make use of encouragement or rebuke years later, but excessive correction will harm a Christian's witness.
Wrong thinking can affect not just our action, but also our inaction, for we often use (futile) thinking as a substitute for action we know we need to take. We'll think and debate and complain for hours--for months--for years--about a troublesome person without confronting him, about our weight without exercising or altering our diet, or about an unchangeable situation without coping with it. Constant circular thought can make a person self-centered and repetitive, a person who will likely drive away friends who would help if the thinker could only stop thinking and resolve to do something. Similarly, when it comes to spiritual matters, thinking can get in the way of obedience when we try to understand why or how or what we're to do, whereas obedience may bring the clarity we craved earlier. The longer we remain inactive, thinking futilely on a problem, the greater the chance that the situation will worsen or we'll lose our chance to act in the most beneficial way--or our chance to act, period.
Shall we, then, abandon thinking, since it's so dangerous, and instead blindly obey what we're told? Unfortunately some people and some governments feel this way, but it is erroneous. The danger lies in wrong, negative thinking, not in all thoughts. Even Jesus said, “. . .'You shall love the Lord your God . . . with all your mind . . .'” (Luke 10:27 ESV, bold mine). Indeed--thinking is necessary for to strengthen our wisdom and ability to act wisely. We need to not only expand our knowledge through study and understand right thoughts, but also learn to evaluate (and discard!) wrong thoughts. As the psalmist wrote, "The simple believes everything, but the prudent gives thought to his steps" (Proverbs 14:15 ESV). Similarly, we need to ". . . test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world" (1 John 4:1 ESV). We should also occasionally evaluate our own worldviews and actions (remembering, though, that excessive introspection--even for the purpose of becoming more godly--results in self-centeredness; it's better to focus on the metaphorical goal ahead rather than how we ran during the last couple meters).
Thoughts, as the driving force behind our behaviors and the determiner of our happiness, character, and futures, are incredibly important--and incredibly private. Parents can discipline children to correct bad behavior but cannot see and discipline their private thoughts. Thus, guarding the purity of our thinking is something each person must do himself, with the help of the Holy Spirit.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4:4-8 ESV)
Thought, being swifter than action, is more difficult to control; we can restrict ourselves from acting on thoughts more easily than we can stop thinking them. For example, reason may impose itself and keep us from striking someone, but the anger and desire to crack bones may remain, along with the attendant ill effects on our bodies, minds, and souls. Similarly, we may not give outsiders a hint of feelings like hatred and jealousy, but they may exist inside us, and uncurbed, may turn us stubbornly bitter and harsh and begin to negatively affect our relationship with God and other people. Likewise, dark thoughts of self-hate and shame and hopelessness, if allowed to fester, can lead us to disbelieve or despair of God's grace and may result in self-destructive or homicidal action. Even when we "act before we think," that action will be based on our long-time habit of thought, which will affect whether we instinctively recoil from a threat or jump to rescue someone in danger, or whether we squeak in surprise or utter a startled curse. As the good book says, "The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks" (Luke 6:45 ESV).
Our knowledge of right and wrong may not preserve us from dangerous thoughts nor be enough to prompt us to replace our "evil treasure" for "good treasure." As Paul wrote, "I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing" (Romans 7:18b-19 ESV). Even if we want to imagine innocuous reasons why someone is late, our minds may summon up morbid images of disaster; even if we want to banish some unclean thought, it may sneak back in and seduce us into dwelling on it; even if we want to concentrate, our minds may stray again and again, which may have inconvenient or even deadly consequences. The mind can wander down many other dangerous lanes if allowed--revenge, despair, self-righteousness, erroneous worldviews, apostasy--and we may not recognize their danger or wrongness in the same way we recognize the danger of placing our foot on a rotten stairstep or the wrongness of abusing a child. If left to wander too long, our thoughts may entrench themselves in untruths, convinced the stairstep is safe or the child deserved the abuse--or that it wasn't abuse at all.
No amount of reasoning and pleading and rebukes from others can affect our thoughts unless we embrace them and change our thinking; as psychologists say, "You have to want to change," or in the words of Solomon, "The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice" (Proverbs 12:15 ESV). Thus, "Do not reprove a scoffer, or he will hate you; reprove a wise man, and he will love you" (Proverbs 9:8 ESV). I would insert, however, that a fool may still make use of encouragement or rebuke years later, but excessive correction will harm a Christian's witness.
Wrong thinking can affect not just our action, but also our inaction, for we often use (futile) thinking as a substitute for action we know we need to take. We'll think and debate and complain for hours--for months--for years--about a troublesome person without confronting him, about our weight without exercising or altering our diet, or about an unchangeable situation without coping with it. Constant circular thought can make a person self-centered and repetitive, a person who will likely drive away friends who would help if the thinker could only stop thinking and resolve to do something. Similarly, when it comes to spiritual matters, thinking can get in the way of obedience when we try to understand why or how or what we're to do, whereas obedience may bring the clarity we craved earlier. The longer we remain inactive, thinking futilely on a problem, the greater the chance that the situation will worsen or we'll lose our chance to act in the most beneficial way--or our chance to act, period.
Shall we, then, abandon thinking, since it's so dangerous, and instead blindly obey what we're told? Unfortunately some people and some governments feel this way, but it is erroneous. The danger lies in wrong, negative thinking, not in all thoughts. Even Jesus said, “. . .'You shall love the Lord your God . . . with all your mind . . .'” (Luke 10:27 ESV, bold mine). Indeed--thinking is necessary for to strengthen our wisdom and ability to act wisely. We need to not only expand our knowledge through study and understand right thoughts, but also learn to evaluate (and discard!) wrong thoughts. As the psalmist wrote, "The simple believes everything, but the prudent gives thought to his steps" (Proverbs 14:15 ESV). Similarly, we need to ". . . test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world" (1 John 4:1 ESV). We should also occasionally evaluate our own worldviews and actions (remembering, though, that excessive introspection--even for the purpose of becoming more godly--results in self-centeredness; it's better to focus on the metaphorical goal ahead rather than how we ran during the last couple meters).
Thoughts, as the driving force behind our behaviors and the determiner of our happiness, character, and futures, are incredibly important--and incredibly private. Parents can discipline children to correct bad behavior but cannot see and discipline their private thoughts. Thus, guarding the purity of our thinking is something each person must do himself, with the help of the Holy Spirit.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4:4-8 ESV)
Friday, September 7, 2012
On a Rainy Mishap . . . or On Stress 2
Today's contemplation begins with a (rather long-winded) story:
I had my afternoon planned: once I got home from work, I'd eat soup, change clothes, grocery shop, shower, and visit a friend in the hospital. The first couple items on the list went smoothly, but upon stepping outside into the chilly, storm-portending wind with my grocery bags, I locked and closed the door behind me . . . realizing a moment later that my wallet was still inside. This was swiftly followed by the realization that so were my keys. . . . Along with my phone, a pat on my pockets confirmed.
I dithered on the back stoop, facing first the alley, then the door--back and forth with the futile hope that the former would show my husband, Joel, driving up or that the latter would mysteriously unlock itself.
Not unexpectedly, neither occurred.
I hesitated to trouble my neighbors but decided that was the best course. A brick served to anchor my bags from the caprice of the wind, and a few knocks and a sheepish explanation later, my neighbor kindly lent me her phone. I stood, with increasing embarrassment, inside her door as I called first one number set and then another, neither the correct one to reach my husband. (I'm not the first to remark that conveniences such as cell phone contact lists have diminished the modern human's capacity for and interest in memorization.) I smiled at the neighbor's fat orange tabby wriggling happily under my free hand while I called Mom, who obligingly reminded me of the correct order of digits in Joel's number. I called, diffidently relayed the predicament I'd gotten myself into, and was gratified to hear he'd just gotten off work and would soon be home.
"Do you have a place to sit out of the rain?" he asked solicitously, since it was raining where he was just over twelve blocks away.
"Oh, it's not raining here," I responded. "I'll be fine."
No sooner did I hang up and return the phone did I see the first few sprinkles wet the sidewalk. Well, a little rain wouldn't hurt me. I returned to the back stoop to sit, holding the grocery bags above my head as I alternately exclaimed as I shivered at the chill wind and looked up to enjoy the leaf-fringed view of the diminishing cloud cover and descending raindrops . . . which soon morphed into increasing cloud cover and a continuous downpour that soon soaked every part of my clothes not protected by my hunched body and shielding grocery bags. Despite my shivers, I laughed at the lightning, enjoying the sight and sound of so much water spread in so incredibly many little drops and falling with such petite yet awe-inducing kinetic force on the leaves and sidewalk. My prayers vacillated between "Praise God!" and "Please expedite Joel's arrival!"
Joel eventually pulled up in his parking spot. He hastily disembarked and jogged up to me, lunch pail and pay stub envelope in his hand. Seeing his approach, I stood and retrieved the litter I'd been eying from my dry seat, which until then I'd too reluctant to abandon my perch to retrieve.
"You won't believe what's happened," Joel said with a large smile. I wondered why he stopped by my side instead of opening the door as he spoke. His next words answered my question: "I locked my keys in my car! And the engine's still running."
What could I do but shake my head and chuckle helplessly? We debated what to do amid rueful laughter and soon retreated to our neighbor's covered front porch where Joel--who did have his phone--called our rental company, which keeps a spare key. I must admit, we were rather cheerful and goofy as we waited in the cold, which Joel teasingly (but sincerely) insisted felt wonderful and I teasingly (but sincerely) insisted felt frigid. He warmed my hands and told me about his day. I kissed him and remarked how his curls seemed to want to imitate the shape of the brim under which they peeked.
Soon enough, the owner of the rental company came out (avoiding eye contact, looking rather grumpy, and refusing to acknowledge either our apologizes or our thanks) to nevertheless kindly unlock our front door. The rain had abated by this point, but we still entered wet through.
Our adventure had not quite ended, however, for we were reminded inside that my key chain did not have Joel's car key on it; it had at some point gone missing. Thus, I fished out our only metal coat hanger (plastic ones only have drawbacks in such cases as this), and Joel picked the lock on his car in record time. Together, then, we made our way to the grocery store where Joel was absolutely helpful, charming, complimentary, and as lovey-dovey as one can properly be in a public place. :) (I could go into raptures about his sparkling eyes, spicy gaze, and the way his adorable cheeks positively glow when he gives me one of his loving, ornery smiles . . . but, alas, that would rather sidetrack from the point of this post and might venture into too-intimate territory. But, oh! how I love him!) The subsequent hot shower felt delightful, and I enjoyed a good hospital visit with my coworker. In essence, it's been an excellent day.
Now, ignoring the above narrative, I ask the reader to consider this: how would you expect one to feel after being locked out of one's house without a phone or wallet, forgetting the phone number of the one who could help, waiting in an ever-increasing downpour with goosebumps from the cold, having the one who could help then lock his own keys in his car, having to trouble the grumpy landlady to help, then discovering upon going inside that one doesn't have the car key and must break into the vehicle? Does this seem a naturally delightful situation, or one that you would expect to induce bitter frustration, stress, or discouragement? I expect the answer goes without saying. Thus, this afternoon has provided yet more evidence (as if we needed any) that attitude more than circumstance determines one's happiness or lack thereof.
I had my afternoon planned: once I got home from work, I'd eat soup, change clothes, grocery shop, shower, and visit a friend in the hospital. The first couple items on the list went smoothly, but upon stepping outside into the chilly, storm-portending wind with my grocery bags, I locked and closed the door behind me . . . realizing a moment later that my wallet was still inside. This was swiftly followed by the realization that so were my keys. . . . Along with my phone, a pat on my pockets confirmed.
I dithered on the back stoop, facing first the alley, then the door--back and forth with the futile hope that the former would show my husband, Joel, driving up or that the latter would mysteriously unlock itself.
Not unexpectedly, neither occurred.
I hesitated to trouble my neighbors but decided that was the best course. A brick served to anchor my bags from the caprice of the wind, and a few knocks and a sheepish explanation later, my neighbor kindly lent me her phone. I stood, with increasing embarrassment, inside her door as I called first one number set and then another, neither the correct one to reach my husband. (I'm not the first to remark that conveniences such as cell phone contact lists have diminished the modern human's capacity for and interest in memorization.) I smiled at the neighbor's fat orange tabby wriggling happily under my free hand while I called Mom, who obligingly reminded me of the correct order of digits in Joel's number. I called, diffidently relayed the predicament I'd gotten myself into, and was gratified to hear he'd just gotten off work and would soon be home.
"Do you have a place to sit out of the rain?" he asked solicitously, since it was raining where he was just over twelve blocks away.
"Oh, it's not raining here," I responded. "I'll be fine."
No sooner did I hang up and return the phone did I see the first few sprinkles wet the sidewalk. Well, a little rain wouldn't hurt me. I returned to the back stoop to sit, holding the grocery bags above my head as I alternately exclaimed as I shivered at the chill wind and looked up to enjoy the leaf-fringed view of the diminishing cloud cover and descending raindrops . . . which soon morphed into increasing cloud cover and a continuous downpour that soon soaked every part of my clothes not protected by my hunched body and shielding grocery bags. Despite my shivers, I laughed at the lightning, enjoying the sight and sound of so much water spread in so incredibly many little drops and falling with such petite yet awe-inducing kinetic force on the leaves and sidewalk. My prayers vacillated between "Praise God!" and "Please expedite Joel's arrival!"
Joel eventually pulled up in his parking spot. He hastily disembarked and jogged up to me, lunch pail and pay stub envelope in his hand. Seeing his approach, I stood and retrieved the litter I'd been eying from my dry seat, which until then I'd too reluctant to abandon my perch to retrieve.
"You won't believe what's happened," Joel said with a large smile. I wondered why he stopped by my side instead of opening the door as he spoke. His next words answered my question: "I locked my keys in my car! And the engine's still running."
What could I do but shake my head and chuckle helplessly? We debated what to do amid rueful laughter and soon retreated to our neighbor's covered front porch where Joel--who did have his phone--called our rental company, which keeps a spare key. I must admit, we were rather cheerful and goofy as we waited in the cold, which Joel teasingly (but sincerely) insisted felt wonderful and I teasingly (but sincerely) insisted felt frigid. He warmed my hands and told me about his day. I kissed him and remarked how his curls seemed to want to imitate the shape of the brim under which they peeked.
Soon enough, the owner of the rental company came out (avoiding eye contact, looking rather grumpy, and refusing to acknowledge either our apologizes or our thanks) to nevertheless kindly unlock our front door. The rain had abated by this point, but we still entered wet through.
Our adventure had not quite ended, however, for we were reminded inside that my key chain did not have Joel's car key on it; it had at some point gone missing. Thus, I fished out our only metal coat hanger (plastic ones only have drawbacks in such cases as this), and Joel picked the lock on his car in record time. Together, then, we made our way to the grocery store where Joel was absolutely helpful, charming, complimentary, and as lovey-dovey as one can properly be in a public place. :) (I could go into raptures about his sparkling eyes, spicy gaze, and the way his adorable cheeks positively glow when he gives me one of his loving, ornery smiles . . . but, alas, that would rather sidetrack from the point of this post and might venture into too-intimate territory. But, oh! how I love him!) The subsequent hot shower felt delightful, and I enjoyed a good hospital visit with my coworker. In essence, it's been an excellent day.
Now, ignoring the above narrative, I ask the reader to consider this: how would you expect one to feel after being locked out of one's house without a phone or wallet, forgetting the phone number of the one who could help, waiting in an ever-increasing downpour with goosebumps from the cold, having the one who could help then lock his own keys in his car, having to trouble the grumpy landlady to help, then discovering upon going inside that one doesn't have the car key and must break into the vehicle? Does this seem a naturally delightful situation, or one that you would expect to induce bitter frustration, stress, or discouragement? I expect the answer goes without saying. Thus, this afternoon has provided yet more evidence (as if we needed any) that attitude more than circumstance determines one's happiness or lack thereof.
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