I had never considered paddle boarding until this past week.
During a visit to southern California, a friend asked me if I wanted to go.
I said yes. Why not? It sounded like fun. I don’t always say
“yes” to new things, but I try to. As time has passed, I suppose I’ve been
trying fewer new things than I used to. I’m not exactly sure why.
So, we took to the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Malibu,
and the experience I had taught me two valuable lessons. (1) It’s important and
interesting to notice how it feels to learn something for the very first time.
(2) I really love paddle boarding!
Learning has been the primary focus of my professional
career. My 25-year serpentine path has had learning as a steady theme. I’ve
created learning experiences of all kinds for audiences ranging from children
to adults.
What I value most about working in learning is the unique
and amazing moment when someone realizes that he or she has changed. It might
be understanding something previously not understood or connecting something
that previously was disconnected.
Whatever it is, something clicks. The proverbial light bulb
glows above their head. In learning lingo, we like to call this the “Aha
Moment.”
What I love about these moments is the discovery and intrigue
they bring. I love the confidence and excitement that comes with these moments.
I love the idea that people realize that they are becoming more of the person
they hope to be – in whatever small or big ways.
I love the buzz we all get when something suddenly becomes
possible or clear. There is a distinct thrill to this. I also appreciate the
courage and will that it takes for people to be open to learning something new.
Children are great at this. Maybe it’s become for them it’s
instinctive and they don’t know the word “fail.” They just soak up new
knowledge. We adults are more
complicated. Sometimes we think our “learning days” are over or that we know
quite enough about everything, thank you very much. What’s the point of
learning something new?
Paddle Boarding
As someone who had never paddle boarded, I ran through a
range of thoughts and emotions as my friend and I drove to the beach. I felt
excitement and curiosity. I had a bit of anxiety and some doubt. What would it
be like? Would I be able to do it? Was I up for this? Why was I doing this?
Would it be fun? Would I do it again?
At the start of my experience, there was a lot going on in
my head. I don’t think this is uncommon for people who are doing something for
the first time.
I think of any profession and reflect on the reality that
each must have had a flurry of thoughts and emotions the very first time they
took on a key task – a lawyer’s first court appearance, a surgeon’s first
surgery, a pilot’s first flight, a dancer’s first leading role, a salesman’s
first sale.
I was fortunate. My friend was an experienced paddle
boarder. He gave me tips – how to enter the water, how to kneel first, how to
stand, where to look, how to hold my arms when I paddled.
Once I was actually in the water and standing on the board,
my learning brain was in full gear. I wanted to do it right. I listened intently
to his instructions. I watched my friend as he stood and paddled. It looked
effortless for him, but for me it wasn’t.
My legs shook. The swells in the water caused me to constantly
adjust my balance, shift my weight and change direction. I was getting tired. I was getting it, and fairly soon my
confidence grew. I was learning and it felt spectacular.
Now, it wasn’t flawless. Learning never is. It’s messy at
times. I fell – twice. I fell once out in the water and another time trying to
bring the paddle board to shore. My
landing featured a frantic paddle near the beach and then a clumsy tumble as I attempted
to outrun a fast-approaching wave.
But I learned what I did wrong. There’s no other way.
Lesson Learned
The better we as educators can appreciate the swirl of
thoughts and emotions that learners experience when something is new, the
better we can design and the better we can teach.
I am always so deflated when I take part in a class that
does not require that I take any risks or contribute any thoughts or ideas.
Still, alarmingly, we call these “educational” classes. They’re generally a
waste of time and, quite often, money.
The only way to learn is by doing. This is nothing new, but
for me it’s a valuable reminder that for us to grow – to gain any type of new
skill or improve a specific capability – the right conditions need to
exist.
The right conditions are never an accident. They’re
intentional.
My conditions were a beautiful beach in Malibu on a calm,
sunny 70-degree Saturday morning. They were ideal. Plus, my teacher was patient
and knowledgeable. He offered clear instruction. He let me practice – and fail.
He gave me informed and supportive feedback. I was motivated and kept trying.
If every class – every learning experience – followed this simple
pattern, then light bulbs and “Ahas” would abound.
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