The challenge
No one was born knowing how to paint frescoes, not even Raphael. (School of Athens, 1511)
Healthy, confident learners experience challenge as opportunity.
When faced with new information or a new skill, they lean into the pursuit of mastery. They ask questions and ask for help. They practice and study on their own and with others. Every retreat is followed by a fresh advance. They visualize their ultimate success and then, as a result of taking the necessary steps to get there, arrive. They ace the test, win the bake off, or join the ranks of the potty-trained.
Unfortunately (you knew there was an “unfortunately” coming, didn’t you?), many of us do not become healthy, confident learners in school. For some, school destroys our confidence and makes us apathetic or uncertain in our learning. We shrink from challenges instead of embracing them. How does this happen?
I have a theory that, fairly early on, we learn that traditional school rewards those who are quick, especially those who already know things and enthusiastically share or demonstrate what they know. The first to raise their hand is the one called on, and that person is supposed to have the right answer in order to keep the conversation (really, a lecture sprinkled with questions) going. “And what is two plus three? Gary!” “Five!” “Yes, that’s right, Gary! Very good!” And so on.
Of course, Gary already knows what two plus three is. He knew before this lesson. He doesn’t learn anything, and neither do the kids who already knew the answer and didn’t get called on. Well, those kids are learning that they need to be faster on the buzzer of this particular game show.
The kids who don’t already know the sum of two plus three have no time to think it through. They learn that if you don’t instantly have the answer, you never will. Across the board, thinking is not rewarded; only speed and accuracy will get you recognition and praise.
Thus, when a challenge shows up—a question or problem that is not meant for the students to already know the answer to—the students don’t have tools to engage with it.
The quicker kids (and notice how we use the word “quick” to mean intelligent, even though I don’t mean in that way) will start randomly shouting out answers in the false belief that their strong track record of correct answers means omniscience.
Meanwhile, the slower kids (and notice how we use the word “slow” to mean unintelligent, even though I don’t mean it that way) sit in silence, waiting for someone else to answer.
Nobody’s thinking. Nobody is evaluating the possibilities. Nobody’s asking questions or drawing sketches or making hypotheses. In this world, either you know it or you don’t. That’s not learning.
You went to school so you already know where this goes. Eventually, the quicker kids hit a challenge (algebra, maybe) that they have no prior experience with and can’t fake their way through. They either figure out how to study or tell themselves that it doesn’t matter and get by with the minimum.
The slower kids might figure out how to study, too, realizing that if the immerse themselves in the material, they actually have a chance to understand it. Alternatively, they get used to faking it, looking for clues and cues from others that tell them how to seem like they understand even when they don’t.
And of course, kids across the spectrum of processing speed check out of the learning process completely. They might show up with behavior problems or simply disappear.
As adults, these habits become ingrained. Triggered by a new problem or growth opportunity, we might respond the way we did in school: impulsive action, avoidance, faking it, waiting for someone else to step in, or grinding. We might anxiously seek “the right answer” even though this is Real Life and there isn’t one.
If we’re aware of our tendencies, we can work through them and find more helpful approaches to confronting a challenge. Persistence, repetition, iteration, taking extra time, seeking additional resources, receiving help, writing things down—it turns out that the things that kids dread doing in school because they are markers of being hopelessly unintelligent are actually key to effective learning.
I don’t know how we begin to change the pervasive belief that fast is clever, slow is stupid, and if you’re not already good at something you may as well give up. I started a school so that I can try to help a few kids see it. I started a blog so that I can talk about it. It’s not enough, but it is something. I am up for this challenge, and I’m not expecting it to be a quick fix. It’s my life’s work.
What challenge are you up for?
