Slower and smaller

In a lightweight sailboat, you can more immediately experience cause and effect than in a heavier one. This is helpful for learning. (Image by Ozant Liuky)

Over the holidays, a family member mentioned that he’s been learning to play guitar.

Or, he had been learning, but it turned out to be more difficult than he had thought, so he gave up in frustration.

He used an app that showed the sequence of notes to play as the recording of a given song played in the background. The notation moved along, conveyor-belt style, sort of like the game Guitar Hero. No matter how much he slowed it down, this aspiring guitarist still couldn’t play along.

As a longtime music teacher, I had the solution. Speed is only one of the variables when it comes to learning. The other is size. Not only do we need to take it slow when we’re doing something we find challenging, we also need to take smaller pieces: tiny, bite-sized slices that make the work manageable and easy.

Someone learning to play a song on the guitar could take a sequence of just three notes from the end of a phrase and play them through slowly and smoothly, away from any apps or recordings. When that sequence becomes automatic, he can add the note that comes right before those three notes and play a sequence of four. From there, he can learn the whole song.

I’ve applied the same principle in teaching math. Solving complex linear equations depends on a student’s ability to solve simple ones. So why bother trying to solve 2(x + 5) = 85 - 4x/3 when you find it challenging to solve x - 25 = -3?

Instead of asking the student to solve one of those complex equations with several steps, I’d give them a bunch of one-step equations. That’s how they’ll get enough practice to see the patterns. Mastering one-step equations will help them to gain the confidence and skill to tackle two-step equations, and so on.

This principle of slower and smaller can be applied to household tasks as well. When I returned from a trip recently, I was overwhelmed by the amount of housework there was to do. I decided to break the tasks down into tinier pieces than usual. Instead of “clean the kitchen,” I instructed myself to empty the dishwasher, then clear this counter, then wipe it down, et cetera. Doing this, I happily and confidently did three hours of cleaning and tidying in a series of short tasks.

Some people believe that this approach will take longer than just muscling through as usual. If we’re going as slowly as we need to and doing the work in tiny pieces, won’t we be stuck on the project forever?

Consider: Most people quit guitar and never learn to play. Many people never gain a confident footing in algebra and struggle for years. And a lot of us get so overwhelmed by our routines at home and at work that we procrastinate on taking action, ending up with sinks overflowing with dishes and inboxes full of unread emails.

Ironically, keeping the tasks small and easy isn’t actually the slow way. It’s a powerful methodology for accomplishing more, whether you’re measuring against a given time frame or the probability of otherwise not doing the thing at all.

We know that slow and steady wins the race. How do we accomplish the “steady” part? By doing the work in tiny increments that don’t stretch us too much at any one moment. It’s the way that things can get done even when you’re having a hard time. It’s easy, but it’s not lazy. It’s gentle and humane.

And if it doesn’t work — if you’re still frustrated — go slower. Try something even smaller. Or do both.