PureSchmaltz

Rendered Fat Content

FillAahSewPhee

22 08, 15 15:55 Filed under: MorningMissive
FillAahSewPhee jpg
“No hard and fast rules can be laid down for survival anywhere, particularly in the farther places. Conditions vary. So do localities. Especially do individuals. Initiative on the other hand may be guided by a consideration of general principles such as those we can here absorb.” Bradford Angier- How To Stay Alive In The Woods

They always ask what skills they will learn. My brain cramps in response. I didn’t consider skill acquisition when I created the workshop. It seems many can’t quite think of workshop in any other terms.

What other terms might there be? Years ago, I read a book by the seasoned backcountry guide Brandford Angier: How To Stay Alive In The Woods. I bought the book because I mistook it for a kind of cookbook, a reference that would show me what to do. Instead, it first focused upon how to properly think about survival, with few specific ‘do this’ instructions. I later understood that this perspective was necessary because without properly preparing the perspective, how-to instructions fall like seeds on poorly prepared soil. Angier understood this, and I suppose he faced the same dilemma I face with my prospective clients who believe they lack skills when they really lack perspective, an appreciation of the key role philosophy plays when coping with difficulties.

Almost nobody intends to get lost in any woods, and we invariably forget to bring along the instruction manual for surviving these surprise ordeals. A pocketful of principles better serves us there.

I do not necessarily argue against skill acquisition, certainly not when certain skills exist and the acquisition of them seem likely to make a difference. My friend Daniel Starr, retired senior fellow who worked at both Bell Labs and Lucent, explains that when he studied computer science, the curriculum chiefly focused upon how to think about computing. This, he claims, provided a general background for approaching a wide variety of previously unencountered difficulties. Today, he complains, curricula focus upon teaching programming languages with, he supposes, the implicit presumption that learning to code will somehow induce deeper understanding of the more general background context. He sees little evidence that this approach works and plenty of evidence that it does not.

Yet the client almost always seeks skill acquisition, like I sought it when I bought Angier’s little book and like budding computer scientists now seek it when they focus upon learning a programming language. “What specific skills and abilities will the participant leave the workshop with?” they ask. I tell them that they might leave with a deeper appreciation of the reasons why no set of acquired skills could possibly do them a lick of good in the ‘farther places’ where their daily practice will certainly leave them. That they might ‘acquire’ a few general, not specific, ‘skills’ for better coping with the inevitable dilemmas their profession will pass to them, but only considerable practice could ever verify if the workshop experience made any difference at all. So very much depends upon them.

I learned long ago to avoid the skills seduction. After watching countless professionals certified in the skills of their trade, I noticed little uniformity in how these skills seemed to be deployed. Some went all rote, presuming, I guess, that the recipe knew it all. Others barely genuflected in the general direction of specific activities specified in the manual and still succeeded and failed at about the same rate as even those unschooled in the specific techniques. I concluded that something other than memorized method or best practice supported success, however it might be defined. I suspected then that a mindset, a philosophy, might better characterize those more likely to succeed, so I watched some more, this time with slightly different eyes.

It seems to matter a whole lot more who someone is than what they know. The well-educated with little native judgement might cope much more poorly than does the feral practitioner. Is this coping ability a skill? For a time, I thought it might qualify as a skill, but after pouring even this concoction into a variety of molds, I found little correlation between those who’d been certified as acquiring ‘coping skills’ and those who had not. Delving even more deeply, I began to see something I’d not imagined before, something I’d been exposed to many times before without drawing any definite conclusions, exampled by my sucker purchase of Angier’s book. I began to recognize the probable necessity of some false pretense, as if to set up the rather catastrophic deeper learning necessary to really catch on. We seek skills until we understand more deeply. How, then, might the acceptable premises appear?

Though they will most likely turn out to be false premises, initially acceptable premises might just need to materially misrepresent the likely experience and the most probable outcome. Advertise the acquisition of skills and then provide an experience, like Angier’s book, that utterly undermines the naive expectations but still delights the client. Start where they are. Bait and switch them. Almost nobody voluntarily enrolls in a philosophy course, preferring more practical pursuits. Later, philosophy might well seem exceptionally more practical, but at the beginning, the beginner's mind can’t seem to cross that subtle bridge, let along scale the mountain lying beyond.

I admit that I feel like a shyster when I engage in this dialogue. I feel the seductive pull to promise just what the prospective client pleads for, knowing that I have neither the intention nor the ability to actually deliver that. We engage in a double blind dedication test, one which will either qualify or utterly disqualify a premise for continuing the relationship. At some point, I will point out this little meta-dance, admitting just how much I want this prospective client’s dream to come true and also confessing that not only am I incapable of delivering this salvation, but I know of no one on the face of this Earth who could. Then, either the conversation changes course or it ends there.

I believe that we all hold an underlying philosophy, though most of us might remain unaware of the exact contents of it. Most of us do not dangle our philosophy around our neck on a laminated card. We feel challenged when someone asks after our foundation, though we might exhibit that foundation in everything we do. If, for instance, we believe that one can drive results, we tend to drive or ascribe driving (or the lack thereof) to whatever results emerge, but we fail to ascribe to philosophy (or the lack thereof) to much, and focus upon skills instead. Even the One Best Way displays the presence of an underlying philosophy primed to believe there could ever be such a thing.

By the end of Angier’s book, he’s listing specific items he’d include in a survival kit, though he prefaces this list with the caveat that any reasonable person might disagree on what belongs on this list. By the time he starts listing specifics, he’s plowed enough ground to more properly receive his suggestions, which he concedes might properly include ignoring them altogether. By the end of the book, he’s more partner than teacher because he’s introduced a way of considering the issue so that both the reader and the author might consider together. This might seem to diminishes his authority as the expert or amplify the understanding that his skills cannot be simply transferred to any other, and cannot really be understood or appreciated without some shared perspective on the domain.

The beginning remains the most difficult part for me. I do not intend to demean the naive dreams that first spark interest in what I might do, though I remain painfully aware that I might seem to demean. It’s always different than we thought. I get to shift my perspective, too.

The Muse explains this dance as epistemology clashing with ontology. The Venn diagram illustrating the intersection of the two looks like widely separated balloons. We speak different languages at first, we see different worlds. It’s Flatland every time. Sometimes we’re able to pop a dimension or two and discover delight lurking behind there. Other times the whole universe seems flatter for the attempt.

©2015 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved










Tags: ,

blog comments powered by Disqus

Good For A Goose





PureSchmaltz Archive Search


December 2024
November 2024
October 2024
September 2024
August 2024
July 2024
June 2024
May 2024
April 2024
March 2024
February 2024
January 2024
December 2023
November 2023
October 2023
September 2023
August 2023
July 2023
June 2023
May 2023
April 2023
March 2023
February 2023
January 2023
December 2022
November 2022
October 2022
September 2022
August 2022
July 2022
June 2022
May 2022
April 2022
March 2022
February 2022
January 2022
December 2021
November 2021
October 2021
September 2021
August 2021
July 2021
June 2021
May 2021
April 2021
March 2021
February 2021
January 2021
December 2020
November 2020
October 2020
September 2020
August 2020
July 2020
June 2020
May 2020
April 2020
March 2020
February 2020
January 2020
December 2019
November 2019
October 2019
September 2019
August 2019
July 2019
June 2019
May 2019
April 2019
March 2019
February 2019
January 2019
December 2018
November 2018
October 2018
September 2018
August 2018
July 2018
June 2018
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018
January 2018
December 2017
November 2017
October 2017
September 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
August 2016
July 2016
June 2016
May 2016
April 2016
March 2016
February 2016
January 2016
December 2015
November 2015
October 2015
September 2015
August 2015
July 2015
June 2015
May 2015
April 2015
March 2015
February 2015
January 2015
December 2014
November 2014
October 2014
September 2014
August 2014
July 2014
June 2014
May 2014
April 2014
March 2014
February 2014
January 2014
December 2013
November 2013
October 2013
September 2013
August 2013
July 2013
June 2013
May 2013
April 2013
March 2013
February 2013
January 2013
December 2012
November 2012
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
July 2012
June 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
December 2011
November 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
April 2011
March 2011
February 2011
January 2011
December 2010
November 2010
October 2010
September 2010
August 2010
July 2010
June 2010
May 2010
April 2010
March 2010
February 2010
January 2010
December 2009
November 2009
October 2009
September 2009
August 2009
July 2009
June 2009
May 2009
April 2009
March 2009
February 2009
January 2009
December 2008
November 2008
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
August 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
© 2006-2024 by David A. Schmaltz all rights reserved

Made in RapidWeaver