On Skills and Skillets

       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.