How do you go about learning? How do you go about improving? Our kids need to be taught, of course. But what about adults? What's the difference between being "taught" and being "coached"?
Furthermore, what works? What stands in our way, both as individuals and as social creatures? What rules and expectations do we bring to the table? What rules and expectations are imposed by our professions and professional assumptions?
Here's a benign example:
I love to swim. Give me a quietly rippling lake with its endless vista and I can go arm over arm, gliding effortlessly and feeling at peace with the world.
In the absence of summertime, warm weather, and oh yes, natural surroundings and a body of water, I (grudgingly) tolerate swimming indoors, in a pool. I've adapted to the barriers imposed by the concrete ends of the pool. I've developed methods to count strokes and lengths. Swimming is a regular part of my weekly exercise activity.
As a kid, I took swimming lessons. Nowadays, I don't need to be taught how to swim. I know how. I swim for the mind-, body-, and soul-satisfaction of the process.
Still, I've wanted a more efficient flutter kick. And, on my own, I haven't figured out how to breathe to the left side as well as the right.
With this specific focus and intention, I decided to get some coaching at my local pool...and I've been working on the process since.
Mike's a nice guy and he's worked with a lot of people. He observed, commented, corrected, commended, cajoled, and exhorted. He also created a whole new goal, having to do with the motion of my upper body and my stroke.
Hmmmm. I thought I knew what to do with my arms. It was my head and legs that I thought needed work. Still....
Lesson 1: Sometimes, you don't know what you don't know.
Lesson 2: Learning is a process. Some elements take precedence.
Atul Gawande, a surgeon and author, wrote a fascinating article, "Personal Best," in the October 3, 2011 issue of The New Yorker. The article is sub-titled "Top athletes and singers have coaches. Should you?" Among other things, he talks about the development of expertise: We move through four stages in learning: unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence, conscious competence, and finally, unconscious competence.
The good news: The session with Mike helped me shift fully into that very uncomfortable stage of conscious incompetence. It's probably the stage that most impedes our learning. As aphorist Franklin P. Jones commented, "Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative, a friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger."
Lesson 3: What you say to yourself about yourself and learning determines how open you will be to new learning.
A colleague describes herself as needing to get a Ph.D. in anything she learns. I tend to go her one better: I should already know what I haven't learned yet. That can be a serious impediment to new learning! With practice, I've come to recognize that inner "voice" of mine. I (metaphorically) roll my eyes, laugh, wave at it, and think to myself, "Oh, it's you again." I remind myself that I actually love learning and improving.
In order to develop expertise, you need 10 years or 10,000 hours of deliberate practice. Psychologist Anders Ericcson's research, as well as that of others, has resulted in this now almost clichéd 10,000 hour "rule." Malcolm Gladwell (another New Yorker author) did much to publicize this conclusion in his book Outliers: The Story of Success. Sometimes what gets lost in the popularization is that the 10 years or 10,000 hours isn't just rote repetition; rather, it's a sustained and mindful process involving critique and change.
That's where coaching comes in. Improvement involves working at what we're not good at. Gawande notes, "In theory, people can do this themselves. But most people do not know where to start or how to proceed....The coach provides the outside eyes and ears, and makes you aware of where you're falling short. This is tricky. Human beings resist exposure and critique; our brains are well defended."
Expertise in swimming is something that I'd like to have. At the same time, it doesn't define my sense of me. I don't feel societal pressure around it. This helps me feel less defensive than I might otherwise.
Lesson 4: Letting yourself be open to learning involves a bit of humility. (Same root word-but not the same as-humiliation.)
With swimming practice, I've devised a rotating focus, sometimes on breathing to the left, sometimes on that S-curve of the proper stroke. The flutter kick challenge has shifted to the background. Going to the pool to practice is much more effortful than when I just went for exercise. I think I'm kind of getting better. I'm not sure that I've figured out the best ways to improve, though. Maybe it's time to ask Mike again. Maybe I need to suck it up and acknowledge that, at that next coaching, I won't be able to show him how perfectly I've learned everything. I'm just in the middle of the process.
You can reach me directly through my website, http://www.theperformingedge.com
