What we can, and what we teach...
I once studied a sport under a teacher who was a natural and who practiced and performed in the way that felt right and worked right for him. He won many competitions and was highly regarded for his skill, but his teaching was mostly him setting examples for me and answering my questions. One day, when I was feeling a little frustrated that my education was not following a clear and predictable path, another teacher spoke to me and said, “Well, it all comes naturally to him, doesn't it? Think of something you do naturally and then consider how you'd try to teach it. Much easier to teach something that is very difficult for you to do, isn't it? That way, you know for sure where all of the struggle points are and you don't end up thinking that it should be obvious for the student.”
This made me think back to my time in High School where I had an amazing music teacher. I remember him saying, “My job, as your teacher, is to be able to explain any concept we cover in at least three completely different ways. If you, my student, do not comfortably understand the concept after I have tried my three ways, it is my obligation to find you someone else who can explain it in more ways until you are satisfied.”
My experiences in teaching have all been volunteer situations and the only formal training in education has been the sharp observation I brought of the TRADOC system while I was in Basic Training in the Army. When I'm learning a skill on my own, I tend to break it down for myself as I might explain each step to someone else. I can frame my questions as though someone else is asking them and work together an explanation that makes logical sense. This way, even if I forget the next step of a process I have that memory of the logical line of things and I can frequently muddle myself through figuring it out.
My Spouse is a marvelous fiber geek. She can start with raw greazy sheep wool and process it through to the most marvelous fine thread using hand processing with water and paddle combs and then spinning on drop spindles or simple wheels or fancy wheels or even electric wheels. Through her process of learning I've often been in the position to support her by making conversation. I ask questions about the fiber and the equipment and the process and... everything I can think of to stay engaged and keep her feeling comfortable about her knowledge and giving her ideas of what to learn more about next.
One day we were all at some kind of gathering. Most everyone else was in a different room and one lady and I were behind in the room where all of the learning equipment had been left. We weren't friends. We barely knew each other. We made small talk. It was awful.
She said, “I've always wanted to learn how to spin. But it looks so hard.”
I said, “Well, it is a series of very precise actions that look really complicated when you see them all at once, but I think they make a kind of sense if you take them one at a time. Are you interested in learning?”
She said, “Could you teach me?”
I said, “I will do my best to explain everything in as many ways as I can, and if I can't explain it well enough, I'll help you find someone else who can. How's that sound?”
She said, “That sounds like fun!”
So, I sat back in my chair and tossed her a bag of roving that Spouse had prepared for her teaching that day. I described the nature of sheep wool fibers and how and why people process them the way they do. I suggested ways that she could explore how the wool behaved under certain twistings and combings.
Through these suggestions, I helped her replicate the earliest form of spinning, where a roving is twisted by rubbing the flat palm along the thigh to put a twist in.
That was the first fifteen minutes.
In the next twenty minutes she took up a drop spindle that had already been started spinning for teaching. She had that going very quickly with only a brief description.
Ten minutes more and she was going great guns on a wheel that had been similarly started and provided for people to learn on.
I have never been so proud of someone in my entire life. She fearlessly leapt into to doing something that someone else was only describing to her. I showed her nothing, only guided her exploration with my words of knowledge about the materials and the tools.
Once she was spinning along solidly enough to make conversation she asked me, “How long have you been spinning?”
I blushed from the crown of my head down to about my navel, “I've never spun.”
She looked absolutely gobsmacked for a moment and then roared with laughter.
What it comes down to is that if I have a hobby that I'm really not very good at (I've got several dozen) it's okay. I don't have to know how to do everything perfectly. The things that I struggle with, I can still describe how it works to someone else and they may have a receptive mind and a knack for the skill.
It puts me in mind of another thing a teacher showed me. She offered me praise for work done by others at my suggestion. I clarified that I hadn't done any of the work and hadn't earned any praise. She smiled and said, “One person can only ever do the work of one person; one person can engage others and get much more done. That, too, is work and is praiseworthy.”
So, I don't have to be able to do everything well and I don't have to be able to get everything done with the labor of my own hands.
And if I don't, neither do you.
I've been very fortunate that life has sent me so many teachers. It's really good for me to pause and remember them. All three of the teachers I've mentioned here have passed on now. Their influence hasn't left this place, though. Not yet. Not as long as I can keep working to pay it forward.