How learning is like a one-legged zero-turn-radius lawnmower

Teaching

Teaching | Monday, August 24, 2015

How learning is like a one-legged zero-turn-radius lawnmower

I met my match this weekend -- a one-legged zero-turn-radius mower. Learning how it worked helped me remember how hard learning can be for my students. (Photo by Melanie Miller)

I met my match this weekend — a one-legged zero-turn-radius mower. Learning how it worked helped me remember how hard learning can be for my students. (Photo by Melanie Miller)

I’m always fascinated by learning something new. I love the challenge, but I might love analyzing the process of learning even more.

This weekend, I met my match — a one-legged, zero-turn-radius lawnmower. Let me explain.

On Saturday, after watching two of my three kids play soccer, my wife and I went to an estate auction. My sister- and brother-in-law were there, and since it was close to the soccer field, we decided to go say “hello” and check it out.

What was going to be a quick visit turned into a commitment of half our day. A few items caught our eyes, including a couple of mowers.

I was long overdue for a new one. My first mower was a rider that I inherited it when we bought our first house. It was my grandparents’ mower, and I learned to drive it as a young kid in their side yard.

Last summer, after about 30 years of life, that mower finally succumbed to rust and died, so I replaced it with a walk-behind push mower that cuts our yard in about two hours. It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t ready to make the plunge and purchase what I really needed.

At the estate auction, I spotted two used mowers that would do the job. I bid on the nicer of the two and bought it for a song (figuratively, of course … if I had to sing for this mower, I never would have gotten it!).

My learning process was about to begin, and I had no idea how bad I was going to be at first.

Loading the mower on a trailer to take home was an ordeal. My first attempt led to an inadvertent pirouette where I almost drove it off the side of the ramp (with quite a crowd of onlookers as they left the auction!).

Already I could tell that I had met my match. Driving one of these mowers — where you operate each of the large back wheels independently — just wasn’t intuitive to me. What I thought would work gave me the opposite results that I expected.

I was sure this was just like my students when I taught them Spanish OR when they learned chemistry OR when they read a complicated novel. I embraced the learning process. They had to go through it, so I wanted to, too.

Once I was home, I promptly mowed our yard. (Can you blame me? I had a new toy and wanted to play with it!) I weaved around trees and tried to stay close to the road without driving over the curb. It was slow and sloppy.

It was even harder when I realized the mower was a one-legged one. One of its figurative “legs” — the big driving tires — wouldn’t drive forward as fast as the other, and the mechanical arm that drove that “leg” would stick. That “broken leg” made my learning curve even steeper.

As I awkwardly covered the yard, I realized I was glad that no one was watching me. I wanted to figure out how this new machine worked, but I didn’t want to be micromanaged as I worked my way through all the mistakes.

It made me think back to the soccer game I watched earlier in the day. Parents would shout encouragement to their children, and some was more constructive than others (i.e. “aim your kicks” seemed a little unnecessary to me … that’s what every soccer player naturally does, but it’s not quite that easy!).

If someone had tried to “coach” me like that as I learned to mow, it would have been more frustrating than helpful. I just needed some space and time to figure it out. Then, it dawned on me … how often to my students need that, too, but I end up micromanaging them?

The lawn was cut in about 45 minutes, less than half the time it takes with my little push mower. And that included a broken belt, a trip to the hardware store two blocks away and fumbling to get it put back on! It was a huge success, even though it didn’t start that way.

Looking back on my experience as an awkward learner, here’s what it taught me or reminded me about what students go through:

  • Sometimes students just need space and time to figure out a new skill without anyone watching them or telling them what to do.
  • What was brand new to me was a polished skill for many other people. As a teacher, I often forget that I’m really good at what I teach, and what’s easy to me isn’t easy to my students.
  • When their new skills can produce something they can be proud of, it’s very rewarding. I was proud of my freshly-mowed lawn when I got done.
  • I needed lots of practice. The first signs of “getting it” didn’t mean it was time to move on to a new skill. I needed reinforcement, and the next time I cut the grass, I’ll need even more. Just because we think we’ve covered it in class doesn’t mean our students have fully acquired it.

Next time I’m teaching a new skill and am ready to micromanage or give some unrealistic advice like “aim your kicks,” I’ll think back to my one-legged zero-turn-radius mower and give my learners a little space.

[reminder]What have you learned about the learning process from learning something new? What was your experience, and how did it help you as an educator?[/reminder]

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  • Ken Olson says:

    in the last week I learned how to tie a bow tie. The experience, which I wrote about on my blog inquiryngminds.blogspot.com, was one of frustration, and then enlightenment. It mirrors your idea about how sometimes things can look so simple, but in making it look simple the hard part of learning gets left out. It also mirrors your experience that timely and effective feedback, whether from failing to tie a bow tie correctly, from another learner guiding us, or from a teacher, needs to be effective for our needs not generic platitudes that we say to everyone. I had a Jr. High teacher who taught physics and in one lab he responded to everyone student who asked a question about why the lab was failing he would respond that you needed to “get in the groove”. He meant a small groove on the ramp, and some groups got this right away, but others struggled all period never finding the groove or getting the lab to work correctly. Finally, sometimes it is seemingly the simplest tips that result in the biggest impact.

  • Michael Heitz says:

    When I was learning to fly in the early 90s, I just couldn’t get the landings (a very important part). My instructor said I should just “feel it in my butt.” All I felt in my butt was my sphincter contracting as I was sure I was crashing into the end of the runway. I had 12 dual hours before I soloed.

    Finally, my instructor pointed to a bug spot on the windshield. He told me to line up that bug spot on the big numbers at the end of the runway until he told me to flare. I kept that bug spot there, even though I was sure I would pancake into the runway, until he said, “flare now.” I pulled back on the wheel, set the mains on the ground and eased the nose wheel down as I braked. “Now you can solo,” he said.

    “Do all airplanes have bug spots?” I asked.

    “Yup, in warm weather.” he replied.

    What a great way for him to differentiate his instruction for me! I now have over 200 hours as pilot in command. And I always look for the bug spot!

  • John Bennett says:

    In my way of goals for effective learning, that learning is nor effective until the skills of usage are habitual – when a situation arises for use, the important core knowledge and skills come to me. OF COURSE, it’s also, frequently, going to suggest new information, new skills that might be needed.

    With regard putting an IKEA ‘unit’ together, it means I don’t think about which direction to turn the bolts, I am able to understand the directions, … WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT!!! With regard to your lawn mowing, it’s not having to slow down to think about which way to move the handle, which wheel has to move in what direction.

    I am referring to the CORE knowledge and skills for the most part. With usage (AND self-assessment / refinement), that knowledge and those skills will expand and become habitual. Your changing the belt or wanting to change the oil hopefully won’t happen enough to become habitual – referring to the operator’s manual makes sense. And, if it’s rebuilding the fuel system or sharpening the blades, we might seek another person to do it for us.

    AS EDUCATORS, we want to facilitating the core knowledge and skills (standards) development for every student. And we want to provide the opportunities to use that knowledge and those skills – along with additional information and skills to address significant situations. But these two efforts are different: the core knowledge and skills are effectively learned and exercised habitually; the additional information and skills are addressed as needed through the habitual skills of organization, understanding, appropriateness, application, … – that are effective problem solving skills!!!

    Two different efforts, both likely important – whether it’s using a new lawn mower or designing a better widget!!!

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