The value of repetition
Each step is the same, but also not the same. (Image by Pexels)
When my choir first began learning Benjamin Britten’s “Rejoice in the Lamb,” I’m sure I wrinkled my nose — if not in disgust, exactly, then certainly in confusion.
The angular melodies, abrupt changes in time, the seemingly nonsensical poem that comprised the lyrics — none of it made sense to this high school singer who had grown accustomed to 19th century opera choruses and quietly pretty folk song settings. This was weird and bold and sometimes defiantly ugly, challenging to the ear and the intellect.
That’s exactly why I fell in love with it — eventually. It grew on me. Hearing and refining the cantata, piece by piece, day after day, allowed me to become familiar with its charms. “Rejoice in the Lamb” became one of my favorite pieces for choir, and Britten has become one of my favorite composers.
Many of us tend to resist repetition. My students hate to go back and review topics and skills they “already did.” People like to seek out new books, movies, and TV shows to watch. With so many possibilities, we feel silly going to the same places on vacation or ordering the same meal at the same restaurant.
Even though we crave novelty, we aren’t always willing to give a chance to something that doesn’t thrill us right away. We try something new and decide that we don’t like it or can’t do it. We’re looking for something in that sweet spot that’s just familiar enough to easily appeal to us, but not so familiar that it’s boring.
We can spend our entire lives successfully chasing this sweet spot. But one of the benefits of education is to gently (and sometimes not so gently) expand the possibilities we can see at both ends of the spectrum by using strategic repetition.
For example, on my own, I might read a poem a couple of times. But under the guidance of a teacher, I will be encouraged to read the poem twenty or more times and discuss each line in detail. My appreciation of the poem will be much more profound. If I didn’t see its beauty at first, I have a much greater possibility of seeing it now.
And now that this poem is familiar, I may be more receptive to other works by the same poet or of the same era. I will also have improved my ability to interpret the next poem and may find myself with less resistance to doing so.
Meanwhile, suppose there is a math concept I have been learning. I may think I’m ready to move on, but my teacher wants me to practice more. At first, I’m annoyed. How boring to do the same thing over and over! But as I work through the series of problems, I realize that I’m not just getting them right — I’m now getting them right more quickly and automatically. I am seeing patterns that I hadn’t noticed before. When it comes time to add a little more complexity, it is so much easier than it would have been without the extra practice.
Even though the material isn’t changing, we are changing. That’s what makes repetition so powerful. When I reread a novel, I can see new things in it because my perspective has changed. And when I listen to a piece of music over and over, I’m allowing it to change me.
Repetition brings depth and nuance to our experiences despite — or perhaps because of — the discomfort it can stimulate. Repetition allows us to perfect a skill, understand a concept deeply, and learn about ourselves in the process. Especially when you don’t really want to — try it. And then try it again.