Tag: learning

What We Know And What We Discover

Knowledge.

It’s all powerful. And all essential.

We can’t get far without knowing much of anything.

But just how far we do go does not necessarily depend on how much knowledge we accrue.

Yes, knowledge is a paradox. Its importance can only be measured through its applicability.

In other words, what we know is far less important that what we do with that knowledge.

Several years ago, I took an online assessment.

Much like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, it measured my personal traits and classified them. But unlike the Myers-Briggs test, it only focused on strengths.

After the assessment was complete, I analyzed the results. Two stuck out — Input and Learner.

I was confused at first. Weren’t both of those terms the same thing?

But the more I thought about it, the more this bifurcation made sense.

You see, it’s one thing to rack up oodles of facts and figures. It’s another to use that knowledge to make the world a better place. And to make our own lives more fulfilling at the same time.

In other words, the process of learning is a more applicably useful skill than the process of absorption. All things being equal, it’s better to have the skills of a learner than to simply make one’s brain a pure input mechanism of the world’s amassed knowledge.

This is not an absolute rule, of course. There are notable exceptions.

Jeopardy contestants can make a fortune simply by amassing a wealth of data within their brains, and withdrawing from that memory bank instantaneously when prompted. Baseball statisticians have had a prominent place within the realms of TV telecasts and newspaper box scores for years. And now, their data is being used to impact the strategy of the game.

Still, each of these examples required more than pure recall. Each, in its own way, required application.

The Jeopardy contestants had to know the steps to take and people to contact to make it to the show’s auditions in the first place. They had to adapt their knowledge recall skills to the rules of the game instantaneously in those auditions, simply to show up on our TV screens and smartphones.

Baseball statisticians had to get to know the whims of sports media members — the newspaper writers, radio hosts and TV commentators who asked for the data statisticians had at hand. These media members were focused on telling stories to a captive audience, not reading lists of facts. The statisticians had to learn to serve up the data in a manner that fit into those narratives as seamlessly as Cinderella’s foot fit into the glass slipper.

Yes, even in the environments primed for pure retention and recall, learning is essential.

The Input vs. Learner split is not a matter of opinion. It has its roots in Information Theory.

Information Theory conveys how we build our knowledge repositories. Yet, perhaps most critically, it describes how we organize it.

According to a prevalent Information Theory framework, all that we know can be split into three terms: Data, Information and Knowledge.

Data are the bits and bytes of raw information. Think of data as the Excel spreadsheet you’ve yet to open. In other words, data on their own are unintelligible — aside from our recognition of their existence.

Information is a surprise. The unexpected nature of the information shakes us from our routine. The shock to our system makes us hyper-aware of what’s been thrown at us. It aids our ability to remember.

And Knowledge is simply the repository of information we’ve accumulated over time. The novelty is long gone. Yet, it remains in our memory banks, ready for recall when needed.

This framework favors what’s new over what’s known. It states that we feed off of novelty, and that our yearning for that sensation fuels our growth.

This is bad news for those whose brains are configured for Knowledge Input — as I am. Most of the time, our talents are as useless as the wings on a penguin.

Yet, I believe this framework is spot on. From the time we are young, pushing our boundaries stimulates us. Novelty drives us to take our first steps and say our first words. It helps us overcome Stranger Danger and grow into independent personalities. It keeps us engaged through more than a decade of schooling — even as our bodies and our interactions with our peers evolve.

Even after adolescence, novelty reigns supreme. It’s what convinces us to apply to that job, to go on that date, to take the plunge and get hitched, to buy that house, to adopt that pet or to have kids of our own. With each step, we learn and grow — by necessity, if not by sheer willpower.

Discovery is second nature to us. It’s been passed intuitively from generation to generation for eons. From Eve’s first bite of the forbidden apple all the way to modern day, we’ve put a premium on discovery over knowledge.

Our world is built around this paradigm. How could it not be?

Everything from financial markets to academic research is about finding that new bit of insight. About getting that adrenaline rush from the pure bliss of novelty. About going where we haven’t been before.

We speak glowingly of the dreamers, marvel at the innovators and laud the risk-takers. In a world primed for discovery, these brave souls do more than inspire us. They light the way.

Knowledge is just the base in this construct. It’s the foundation from which new discoveries can be made.

Knowledge certainly has value. Why else would we mourn the burning of the library at Alexandria, more than 2,000 years after the blaze turned the great repository of knowledge to ash?

Yet, the value of knowledge is not infinite. In the societies we’ve built, facts and figures can only get us so far.

The implication is simple.

To grow our potential, we must expand our perspective.

We must be open to discovery, to novelty. To learning what’s possible and making it reality — even if it takes us away from the cocoon of what we already know.

Of course, in practice, it’s not that simple.

It’s a challenge for us to keep pushing the envelope. To motivate ourselves to keep finding what’s new and surprising. To embrace the continuum of change.
It’s all too easy to get comfortable. To settle into familiar patterns. To ease off the throttle.

There’s less resistance this way. Life is more of a breeze and less of a grind.

The siren song is calling. Calling for us to circle the wagons around what we know and call it a day.

We must not heed these cries. We must push forward.

Our growth depends on it. So do the betterment of ourselves and the world around us.

There is no time to take a shortcut on this mission. Not yesterday. Not today. Not tomorrow.

The next chapter in our journey awaits. And what we know is just the start.

Discover on.

Passing The Test

What do you remember from your time in school?

Classes and homework, most likely. But also tests.

Tests are a fundamental part of the education experience. They’re the prove it moments. The opportunities to show what we’ve learned by answering a set of specific questions.

This is especially the case later in the education experience. Test scores define grades, provide us admission to the next level of learning and even certify us to practice certain professions.

Tests require preparation. They demand focus. And they can cause students great amounts of stress and anxiety.

Why is that? Because of the high stakes, for sure. But also because of the lack of control.

In most testing environments, we don’t know what’s coming. We might have some ideas as to the topics and general focus. But we don’t know the exact questions we’ll be working with until we’re in the moment.

This makes the build-up process somewhat of a toss-up. Studying involves internalizing information, practicing sample questions, and taking educated guesses as to the actual questions we’ll see in prime time.

It also changes our expectations of the learning experience. We focus our attention solely on the topics that might be on the test. We synthesize most of the information we learn in the waning hours before the test. And we take our performance from the test as a full indication of our potential.

We might succeed in this endeavor. But we’re ultimately setting ourselves up to fail.

You see, the test-intensive education structure is focused on the wrong things. It looks solely at the outcome, at the destination. And it gives that outcome, that result, an inordinate amount of weight when it comes to opening doors to our future.

This setup sends the wrong messages to students.

For one thing, it systemizes gratification. We’re raised to believe If we do one thing, we’ll get something else. Yet, outside the classroom, doing one thing only gives you the opportunity to get something else.

The world is notoriously random and irrational. Building an expectation of fairness and gratification in impressionable young students is downright reckless.

But perhaps more importantly, this focus on outcomes undercuts the very efficacy of education.

You see, learning is more about the journey than the destination. Sure, it can provide great benefits — such as the ability to make more informed decisions and live a more prosperous life. But ultimately, learning is a process. One that is built up gradually over time.

A heavy-handed focus on a few specific data points unravels the entire ball of yarn.

Now, instead of focusing on steady, incremental growth, we emphasize a feast-or-famine approach. We encourage students to pack their brains with information right before a test, data dump it during the exam, and then quickly forget what they’ve just memorized.

The sheer ridiculousness of this cycle is clear. In fact, it’s valid to ask if students really learn anything at all through this process.

The answer, too often, is no.

And that’s a problem.

Because the world needs us to keep learning. It needs us to continually embrace the pattern of growth.

Not just for us to leave our mark on society. But for us to simply survive the day-to-day.

For every day is a series of tests. From the moment we wake up to the moment we hit the pillow, we face a series of new situations and challenges.

These tests don’t follow an academic course structure. We can’t do much to anticipate them ahead of time. We walk into them blind.

It’s on us to build off what we’ve previously learned to handle these situations well in the heat of the moment.

Sometimes we’ll pass with flying colors. Other times, we won’t.

But regardless the result, we can learn from the experience. And use the information we’ve gleaned to prepare us for the next challenge we face.

This is incrementalism at its finest. It’s a full-bore commitment to the journey over the destination. And it’s critical to our daily existence, no matter our walk of life.

We must get on board with growth mindset. Our future depends on it.

So, stop thinking in terms of big moments and gratification. Of tests and grades.

Look at the big picture. Embrace the process.

The journey will be more rewarding.

The Journey to Situational Awareness

How well do you know yourself?

I mean really know yourself.

It can be relatively easy to recognize your key traits. To understand whether you’re shy or outgoing. Confident or tentative. The center of attention or the one in the shadows.

But that’s only part of the equation.

You see, for us to truly understand ourselves, we must delve deeper than our personality traits. We must layer in context.

We must consider our situational awareness.

This is one of the trickiest concepts to master. Yet, it’s one of the most critical.

For how we respond to the contextual cues around us impacts how others see us. And how they choose to interact with us.

This can open doors for us. Or shut them.

It all hinges on how we read and react to the situations we encounter in real time.

Get this right and others will speak of us glowingly. Get it wrong, and they’ll cringe at our indiscretion.

But how do we learn to read situations right? How do we prepare to have the right response at every turn?

Through trial and error.

There are simply no shortcuts. Reading the room happens in real time, and our reactions bubble to the surface in that exact moment.

It’s only by failing that we succeed. By being cringeworthy and learning from the experience.

This process requires introspection. It requires humility. And it requires a willingness to change.

This is a big ask. Many of us don’t like second-guessing ourselves. And we don’t like to embarrass ourselves.

But by taking the plunge, we set ourselves up for success. The lessons we learn can help us gain social capital. And the actions we take help us build character.

Take it from me.

Growing up, I was notoriously bad at situational awareness. I looked and felt out of place on more than one occasion. And my social life — or lack thereof — reflected my contextual blindness.

I wasn’t even tone-deaf. I was clueless.

Fortunately, as time went on, I was able to flip the script. I made friends who assessed me honestly and pointed out my situational awareness flaws. And I developed the courage to identify my mistakes and learn from them.

I’m far from perfect today. But I find myself out of place far less often. And my peers regard me a lot more highly than they did in my younger years.

This transformation started with the courage to look within. To understand my deficiencies and work to make them strengths.

The journey that ensued has helped define me.

It’s not too late for your journey to start.

Do what you can to maintain situational awareness.

Learn the cues. Have the humility to grow through your mistakes. And get to know yourself far better than you might ever have imagined.

Your social future is at stake. Make it a great one.

Building Blocks

It’s far too easy to choose looking forward over looking back.

But why not choose both?

For years, I’ve focused nearly all of my energy on the road ahead, and what I would need to put into it to make it successful. For someone who has started over as many times as I have, looking back was considered giving up.

While few have walked as winding as path as I have — or at least few have by their own volition — many have also put blinders on to what’s behind them in favor of what lies ahead.

This behavior is intentional; our society seems to demand it. After all, the desire to improve, evolve, iterate, grow — it’s instilled in us at a very early age. Settling is akin to laziness; even if we’re in a good place, there is always more than can be learned, tried and achieved.

With this perspective in mind, it shouldn’t be surprising that we’d rather think of what comes next than what came before. The past is a scar that should remain under wraps — a reminder of a time when we were younger and more immature.

But there is a danger in this path. By never taking the courage to look back, we lose sight not only about how we got here, but also what makes us unique.

This is a big reason I’ve been spending more time recently pondering my past — from my time growing up in the northeast, to my college days in Florida to my previous career in West Texas. I’ve looked back not only at the golden sun-drenched memories, but also the embarrassing mistakes I made along the way —the times I thought I knew it all but had no clue.

I’ve owned up to it — all of it — not only when reminiscing with acquaintances from those times, but also when conversing with those I’ve met more recently.

This has been difficult for me to do. I don’t consider myself vain, but I am an introvert. Sharing my story with those I don’t inherently trust is uncomfortable — scary even.

But despite my nature, I’ve come to realize the importance of being more transparent, and the benefits it can provide both myself and the world around me. It’s a major reason why I started Words of the West, and also a prime reason why I’m more apt to bring up my past in conversations these days than I once was.

For life is like a set of Legos; you can build it up into something beautiful, but only gradually. The past serves as building blocks — not only in terms of foundational structure, but also in terms of art and innovation. The past is not only what helps you build that dinosaur or French chateau, it’s what helps make it that dinosaur or chateau.

Our path ahead is marked with desires and communal expectations. But the journey we actually take is innately our own. By building off the lessons and memories of our unique past, we can build our own roadmap for the continuation of our 1 in 8 billion expedition. We don’t just live our journey, we own it.

So, we must not shun those building blocks. Instead, we must utilize them — and continue to create.