Transcription
Here's the deal: our brains are designed to enjoy learning and practicing a lot, with one result being greatly improved performance in any domain. But the price of entry to this state of work is pushing through the initial stages of incompetence, failure, and the feeling of being talentless, as we move toward competency. No talent necessary. If there isn't no failed path to success, and there is, then this should be simple, though it's not easy. Please let me explain.
Most of you folks who have successful careers in areas like math, music, or basketball have experienced this type of fun and interesting work. In fact, all of us have experienced this from time to time. Anything that catches our attention deeply: we become engrossed in a task, trying to figure out this and that little thing, then trying again. Very small, stepwise solutions are found, and it feels good. We progress, small challenge by small challenge. You think it's been 10 to 15 minutes, but you look up and an hour has passed. Time flies when you're having fun, and you got a ton of good, productive work done. This state can be taught, learned, developed in oneself and others, and is the highest state of learning we can be involved in, as well as enjoyable. Sounds good, doesn't it?
Regardless of what we were practicing—math, music, basketball, or anything else—the common denominator to all improvement is the amount and type of work. We seem to be pretty good, for the most part, at understanding the amount part, and there are some solutions found in the world of cognitive and behavioral science to help with that. If we can't get ourselves or our students to practice or do homework as much as we would like, sometimes our solutions to this can be described as, "suck it up and do it." It's required and will work over time. It will work, and will benefit from such practice, and will get better. But it turns out there are ways to make way more progress in the same amount of time and actually truly deeply enjoy the challenge, which is what this video is about.
It's happening in those times in which we are so focused on our work and improvement that we lose a sense of time and practice, and time just flies by. There's a researcher named Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi—spelled just like it sounds—who has devoted his career to studying this state, and he's given it the name "flow." Some people call this "the zone" or "the Muse" speaking to or through them, but there really is no mystery here. It's actually a continuous cycle of trying to find problems, then trying to solve them, and that is something we rarely do in our usual "play and pray" mode of practice. It's in practicing that we build the mental model we need to participate in flow when we perform.
But what do we do if we don't have a highly developmental model yet? How can flow help practicing? Then some will tell you flow can only be achieved in areas in which one has highly developed skill, and I used to believe this too. It's true that flow is frequently present in those situations; however, incremental problem-solving at whatever level is just beyond our current ability, as in well-executed deliberate practice, with its focus on continually asking questions, redirecting focus, and trying new solutions, is a flow-producing machine that creates an upward spiral. Flow this creates automatically level-specific problem-solving, which challenges us to try and develop solutions to the best of our ability and improve incrementally using trial and error. For this, the only higher-level skill that needs to be developed and challenged is the skill of deliberate practice, which requires developing the component skills of metacognition, reflection, and trial and error. No matter where we start with these skills, they will be at the upper end of our ability, no matter how unskilled we are. Whatever it is that we notice and address, however small or simple that is, is automatically a level-specific challenge. Whatever task is just beyond our current ability, our mental model—whether it's two plus two equals four or a quadratic equation, scales of the Tchaikovsky concerto, free throws, or the fadeaway jumper—that is what will put one in a practice state conducive to flow.
One way to do this with students is to ask questions instead of giving answers. The questions should be very deliberate, leading to the right answer. And folks, there are wrong answers, and it does not damage students to hear that. In fact, it's a service to them by teaching them how to use constructive criticism to grow. See the work of Carol Dweck on mindset. Keep asking; don't give answers. Let the student struggle a bit; that is the sweet spot of learning, even though it doesn't look or feel like it. The burn of learning—that's what that struggle is. I call it "the blur." Feel the blur. This can be frustrating. Questions will get harder and harder to formulate, and we'll want to give the answer, but keeping the student or ourselves on the edge and searching for an answer is exactly the stretch zone we want to occupy. All of the focus we can handle, even if we're not sure what we're looking for right away.
To put it kind of generally: put ourselves or a student in a place where the task at hand is slightly outside of our current ability. Whatever we're practicing at that time should work fine for this. Examine it. What could be better? What are the components to that? What if we try this? What if we tried that? Actually try it. How did it work? Examine it. What could be better? If we try this, would it make it better? If we try that, would it make it better? Actually try it. Did it make it better? Rinse, repeat, and keep this up our whole practice. These quests for problems and solutions work just like a video game to engage the mind, but without the perniciousness. Perhaps we can understand it better by describing what flow is not, and what most practicing is: mindless repetitions of material, not paying attention to whether it's right or wrong, or whether it could be improved, etc.—the old "play and pray" method. No wonder practice is so boring and feels so long. This is why they have magazines in waiting rooms. Time moves excruciatingly slow for the unengaged mind, and we don't make much progress.
We can start trying this with just one thing or goal, or if we're teaching it to a student, walk them through it in real time. Solve one semi-difficult problem, guiding the student to—or ourselves to—find any underlying components, then try solutions to that small problem. It doesn't matter if the solution works; if it doesn't, it gives us valuable information to guide our next trial. Doing so will allow us to notice more and more a growing mental model and will improve one step at a time. Then go to the next thing you want to improve. It will be hard at first, but if we really try and accept we won't be great at it right away, flow will start almost immediately. It's in that challenge, struggle, lack of immediately being great at it that creates flow. Just keep observing, asking ourselves questions, and trying solutions. It's okay if the solutions don't work. It will get better and better every time you play it. Look for things to improve. You will begin to become joyfully lost in the repeating and increasing challenge. Do this for our whole practice, and time will start to melt off the clock, become more enjoyable, and it will be good, focused practice. Kind of cool, huh?
Just like multiplication tables and math, or scales and music, and free throws in basketball, once is not enough. Repeated walkthroughs of varying situations as time allows in lessons, classes, sports practices, allowing the learner to find the problems—which might take some extra time at first—while outlining and bringing attention to the underlying process. Learning how to learn will be necessary to make the process stick independently in one's practice, which is a journey in itself. Keep working toward and with flow, and it will get stronger as it's repeated.
It's interesting to note that Csikszentmihalyi makes a distinction between pleasure and enjoyment. Pleasure is fine and necessary, but vacuous and has little or no participatory elements: lying on the beach, watching TV, etc. Enjoyment is when the brain is fully engaged and is in flow, while becoming smarter makes you happier, smarter, better. That's how the brain works. Thanks, evolutionary biology; we owe you one. I'm Craig Goodheart, the learning coach, and you've got all the talent you need, so why not really enjoy it by learning how to learn?