The centipede was happy, quite,
Until a toad in fun
Said, “Pray, which leg goes after which?”
This worked his mind to such a pitch,
He lay distracted in a ditch,
Considering how to run.
-Katherine Craster
The magic happens on the morning of the second day.
I have noticed a certain pattern in my woodcraft classes. Regardless of the subject, the first day is a bit of a hot mess. I like to think I am offering solid instruction and good tips, but there is so much for students to keep in mind–how to present the blade safely and effectively, how to control the bevel, and what shapes and designs to pursue–that they are on overload. From a brain science perspective, their logical, prefrontal cortex is simultaneously juggling instructions and directing the body’s actions. Students internal dialogue in a turning class might be something like: “Bend your knees, place your tool on the rest, grasp the flute with the left hand while the right hand holds the handle against the body for stability, now present the gouge with the flute closed and “find the bevel,” then twist the flute open about 20°, adjust the tool handle 20° toward your body and the cut will start, drop the handle for more sheer and less scrape, remember to float the bevel and not press too hard into the surface, quiet your upper body, picture the curve you want to create, transfer weight from your right leg to your left leg slowly in a movement that looks similar to Tai Chi, and off you go.” There is a lot to think about, and it is exhausting.
On that first day, students practice what psychologists call “explicit monitoring.” When you are first learning a physical task, the prefrontal cortex watches closely and tries to direct the action. This logical “commentator” part of the brain does its best to perform this new task, but its direction is often clumsy, herky-jerky, and almost always late. It is a bit like asking the brain to tell the hands to lift the legs in order to walk. Or if you are learning to play the drums, by the time the “commentator” side of their brain says “now!” and the hand moves to strike the drum, the moment has passed, and the sound comes late. All of this takes a lot of energy. By some estimates, the caloric demands of a hard-working brain are as much as 20% of the body’s total glucose stores.
With practice, tasks shift from the prefrontal cortex to the cerebellum, which is the portion of the brain that controls learned motor skills. This is the “doer” part of the brain, which we access when we ride a bike or press a car brake when the light turns red. It allows us to act automatically, smoothly, effortlessly, without conscious thinking. Once the cerebellum can perform a task, we have achieved “muscle memory,” allowing us to move fluidly and instinctually, like an athlete playing a game or an artist creating a gestural drawing, and freeing up space for the prefrontal cortex to think about other things.
Obviously, it takes time to shift knowledge from the prefrontal cortex “commentator” to the cerebellum “doer” (to my students’ great distress). That said, there are teaching practices that can accelerate this transfer. Here are a few:
Slow-Burn Repetition: Engaging the cerebellum involves establishing neural pathways, and nothing does this like repetition, especially slow, mindful repetition. When you increase the time under tension, muscles establish more neuromuscular connections, activating more muscle fibers and teaching the brain greater coordination. Like learning scales on a guitar, careful and deliberate practice is the key. In a multi-day carving class, have students practice knife grasps on practice sticks, being mindful of feeling the bevel, skewing and drawing the blade across the wood, thinking about what muscle groups are being engaged, making micro adjustments to the grip and posture.
Visualization: Ask students to visualize themselves performing the task before they actually perform it. When learning a new skill, visualization on its own is nearly as effective as actually doing that task in developing neuromuscular pathways. One great strategy is to ask students to visualize an action right before they perform the action. Be sure that students visualize the steps in the process, not just the final result. That said, being able to imagine the shape you want to create is an important part of creating sculptural forms, and drawing those shapes is an invaluable part of visualization.
Compression: When teaching a complex skillset, it is a good idea to find ways to help students reduce those skills to a manageable size.
First, select the most important ideas to teach and avoid the temptation to cram everything into the first few hours of class. I have seen some pretty spectacular craftspeople make the classic new-teacher mistake of talking for half of a day about everything that students need to know while the class gazes longingly at the tools, or worse, glazes over. Instead, first teach just enough to get them safely started, especially the gross motor skills and the big movements, and let them at it. Once students have the basics down, you can then make the fine adjustments to their technique. Trying to impart the subtleties of a craft to a student who has not yet experienced the basic movements is a bit like trying to hang ornaments on a Christmas tree that is still lying on the ground.
Second, help students make associations to related ideas. I begin every class by asking students about their experience with woodworking and other forms of handwork. If I know that a student has an understanding of casework, I might reference how skewing a hand plane or a draw knife is similar to how we skew a sloyd knife.
Third, “scaffold” your instruction by teaching skills in a sequence that builds on the ones already learned. For example, in a carving class, I teach knife grasps in an order that builds on the grasps already learned.
Fourth, “chunk” ideas into small patterns that are memorable. For example, when I teach turning, I talk about the “ABCDs” of taking a cut: Anchor, Bevel, Cut, Dance.
Finally, name the skill when a competency is performed. My students often remark on how excited I get when they do something right. What they might not recognize is that I am both reinforcing the behavior and helping them recognize what they are doing correctly as they are doing it. “Yes!” I exclaim. “Nice push cut!”
Recall. We learn when we are asked to recall and synthesize information, putting ideas into our own words and integrating them into our existing mental framework. The more often we recall information, the deeper the lesson nests in our brains. In a classroom setting, teachers might use the Socratic method, habitual journaling, or regular quizzes to achieve this. In a workshop setting, craft educators may teach a series of steps and then ask someone to summarize back what they are going to do. Or when a student is about to perform a task, I might ask the student to describe what steps they are about to take. Often, more experienced students will offer guidance to other, newer students in class. I encourage this, as teaching is one of the best ways to recall and synthesize what you know (just make sure they are giving good advice!) Finally, I provide my students with extensive notes on everything that we discuss in class, so that they have something to review once they get home.
Rest. We learn through bursts of intense effort followed by rest. When we rest, even for just twenty seconds, our brain plays back the lesson at ten to twenty times the speed at which we learned it, compiling information and beating paths across our neurons. Like exercise, the benefits of hard work are only realized after a period of rest and recovery. This learning cadence is called the ultradian cycle–learn, rest, learn, rest. For the craft educator, habituating regular breaks is super important, but it can be hard for students to take a break, especially if they are really invested. If you explain your process to them, set a timer (say every 90 minutes) to announce the start of a break period, and force them to put their tools down, stretch and hydrate, walk around to admire each other’s progress, for maybe 10 or 20 minutes, your students will see great benefits. Not only will their brains process more, but they will also see their own work with fresh eyes or in a new light, and even build community and connection with their classmates, which makes for a better experience for everyone.
Finally, related to rest is the importance of sleep. I don’t mind teaching quick, one-day classes, but the benefits of sleeping on a lesson are really obvious. When we sleep, our brain replays what we have learned that day, building pathways across our consciousness and internalizing lessons. It is while we dream that ideas are transferred from the prefrontal cortex to the cerebellum, and when we wake, our muscles remember. (Fun fact: some studies show that when we sleep, we are actually replaying what we learned in reverse. Bonkers!)
If I do my job right, on the morning of the second class day, something truly special happens. Students enter the class, stare blankly at their projects, and exclaim, “I have forgotten everything!” I assure them that it will all come back, offer a few prompts about where to start, and they pick up their tools and begin again.
And then the room goes silent.
They might ask for a few reminders here and there, but for the most part, the students are “flowing” through their tasks. They are simply doing. It makes me want to hold my breath, afraid of breaking the spell, not wanting to be the toad in the Centipede's Dilemma.
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