Teaching from the Edge

This past weekend I was conducting a facilitation training in North Carolina and my co-trainer, María Silvia, shared with the class that she's teaching "at the edge of what she knows"—by which she meant she often goes into a situation not sure of her footing; where she doesn't know ahead what will occur or how she'll respond. She confessed that there have been times in the class where she felt she had nothing new to say on a given subject, and that it's highly uncomfortable to be in that place (why am I teaching if I don't have more to offer?).

I've been reflecting on that dynamic and believe there's something inspiring about it. I used to believe that, as an instructor or as a facilitator, the ideal was to be calm and confident. Now I think almost the reverse—to the point where I see it as a bad sign if I'm too relaxed or too sure of myself. Now I believe it's better to be somewhat on edge and unclear where the floor is.

Don't get me wrong. I am not advocating going into a meeting or a classroom unprepared or unfocused. Rather, I am advocating being loose (not tight) and open to the unknown. While I am not anti-planning, there is a danger of falling in love with your script and missing clues that it isn't working (to defend your investment in creating it). These days I prepare for facilitation or teaching with an outline of what I want to do, yet prepared to go off road based on emerging needs. The most important thing I do is to take time to become centered and clear-headed.

In this way I see facilitation as more of an art form than a science. When I am at my best I rely heavily on my intuition (which is generously informed by three decades of experience in the field). While I am prepared to offer all manner of analysis about facilitation dynamics, in the end, I have come to believe that my most effective teaching is done in the occasional moments when something potent happens—and you never know ahead when those moments will occur. I think of it as teaching improvisation, which turns out to be something that María is very good at it. It has more to do with paying attention and pattern recognition, than with pontificating or proselytizing.

• • •

If you're with me so far—seeing the benefit to operating on the edge of one's knowledge—it necessarily leads to a couple of milestone questions that I've had to wrestle with in the course of developing my career—questions that I believe all professionals must address, though perhaps it's more challenging when there is no accreditation program against which to measure one's proficiency:

Question #1: When Am I Solid Enough to Hang Out a Shingle?
To be in integrity with clients you need to have a certain amount of confidence (or chutzpah) that you can ring the bell if hired. There are a lot of sub-questions embedded in this:

•  Do I love the work or is it just a job? On a more subtle level, if your answer is "yes," why do you love the work? Because you like being in the spotlight? Because you like being the hero? Because you like being in charge? Because you want to help people in need? Because you want to build cooperative culture?

•  Do I know enough to be able to consistently handle a sufficient range of group issues that I can be a full-service facilitator? Or should you limit what you tell the world you can do?

•  How well do I know the literature (and the emerging thinking) in my field?

•  How open am I to evaluating what I encounter in my work to deepen my understanding of group dynamics, adjusting my thinking as appropriate? This may sound obvious but tweaking means reworking materials and revising approaches, sometimes undoing what you had previously thought. It can even be embarrassing.

•  Am I quick enough on my feet to be able to assess developments in the dynamic moment, and make effective choices on the fly? Sometimes there are awkward surprises and sometimes the planned focus or activity is ineffective. Now what? You may be expected to pull a rabbit out of the hat. Can you make good choices in those moments? It's not nearly good enough to be able to articulate an hour later what you should have done.

•  Can I break down what I've done (especially when it works) so that clients can learn to do it themselves?

•  How well can I road map where we are at any given moment and articulate my thinking behind that choice (where are we, where are we going, and why)?

•  Am I OK face planting in front of an audience? Anyone who facilitates regularly will occasionally have bad days (or at least bad moments). If it's excruciating for you to be criticized in public, or to see the meeting you were running fall apart in the last 15 minutes, please know going in that this will sometimes be your fate, and I don't care how good you are. Events are never wholly in your control. If can't pick yourself up off the ground and get back on the horse, don't ride horses.

•  How open am I to receiving critical feedback about my work? Hint: if that door is closed you can't very well expect others to listen to what you have to give them—never mind how accurate and insightful it may be. 

•  How accomplished am I at being able to shift perspectives and see things through the eyes of others (to the point where they regularly acknowledge that you both understand their point and its meaning)? This is a bread and butter skill when trying to bridge differences among strongly held viewpoints. Professionals need to be able to do this heavy lifting.

•  Can I function well in the presence of strong emotions? Can you create sufficient safety for people to articulate their feelings and a strong enough container that the examination doesn't devolve into isolation, accusations, and defensiveness? Heaven help you if you can't.

Question #2: Can I Teach What I Know?
Or perhaps more accurately, do people learn what I teach? This is an additional layer, in much the same way that having a product or service for which there is demand is not the same as having a viable business. I may know something well enough to be able to able to ply my craft as a facilitator, yet may not be effective as an instructor. Here are some sub-questions:

•  Do I want to teach? (Hint: if your heart is not in it, students will sense that and it will undercut your efficacy.)

•  How flexible can I be in how I teach, to cover the breadth of learning styles that I'm likely to encounter?

•  Can I move easily (and accurately) between the specific and the general? If you teach principally from principles, it will prove to be too heady for some. If you teach solely from specifics, the lessons may prove to be too narrow in their application. You need, I believe, to be able to move from one side of the street to the other. 

•  Can I teach groups where there is a significant range of accomplishment among the students (can I bring the novices along without boring the experienced; can I challenge the accomplished without overwhelming the tyros)?

•  How accurately can I describe what skills I can teach? If someone becomes your student, in what detail can you tell them what they'll learn?

• • •

As you can see, thoughtful facilitators need to grapple with a plethora of edgy questions. My advice is to learn to get comfortable with being on the edge of your discomfort.

Pedagogical Choices

I'm now immersed in the 37-day Ecovillage Education US course. It started July 5 and will run through Aug 11.

In addition to being a teacher for a number of the topics in the Social and Economic dimensions of the training, I have responsibility (along with my partner, Ma'ikwe, who is the lead teacher for this course) for helping to integrate what's being taught. Many of the teachers will not know what others have presented, and it will be up to Ma'ikwe and me to help weave the connections between sessions.

Quandry #1
Teachers develop their own flow and style. At least some of he time, that won't be the same as mine. Thus, there is a potential cost to my stepping in and interrupting their rhythm, and that needs to be weighed when I consider whether the point I have in mind making is sufficiently worthwhile. Tricky.

The comments I might make are of two general kinds: a) an amplification or more nuanced observation about what is being discussed; or b) an integrating comment, tying what was just said to what has been said before, which the teacher may or may not be aware of.

In general, I'm more willing to insist on the latter (which is likely to be missed if I don't speak up) than the former (which is more a question of style—that is, it isn't always obvious that my framing will be any better than the teacher's, or that my ancillary point is that edifying).

Quandry #2
There is a lively conversation among the teachers as to what constitutes effective pedagogy. While the prime directive is what is effective for the student, the answer is surprisingly complex.

Here are some of the nuances: 

 o  People have different dominant learning styles
While I don't know if this list is complete, I've found it useful to think in terms of three main ways people take in and digest information: aural, visual, and kinesthetic.

Of these, the default mode is aural, where hearing is the main input channel. In the context of meetings you rarely need to worry about this because speaking aloud is one of the main ways we communicate (though I don't want this glib statement to slide by the rich field of body language and facial expressions unnoticed).

With modest attention, it's typically not that hard to provide visual reinforcement for what's happening aloud. That includes posted agendas, scribed highlights of conversations, draft agreements written on a whiteboard, etc. Beyond that, it can be surprisingly helpful to have graphics that help evoke and maintain a productive attitude or mood relative to the topic at hand. Be creative!

The poor stepchild in this trio of learning modes is the kinesthetic, or body knowing. Some people work best through grounding information in their bodies, and the way most meetings are run means that little is offered in their comfort zone. To the extent that groups are aware of this need, it most commonly surfaces in the form of energy or stretch breaks, rather than developing movement options that solicit and massage information germane to the issue at hand. It can be done, but it's a rare facilitator (or teacher) who is savvy to the techniques and the potential that can be unlocked by employing them.

All of that said, the key concept is grokking the need to mix it up, so that you are not always relying on the same teaching techniques. Students benefit from variety and there is no single approach that works best all the time. As an evaluator, I'm coming face-to-face with the question of how to fairly assess the effectiveness of teaching techniques that I don't use much.

o  People have different paces at which they process informationOne the factors that needs to be taken into account when deciding what teaching style to employ (more on that below) is how much time it allows students to assimilate and process what's been presented. Not everyone proceeds at the same rate, which is not a question of inherent intelligence or ability to grasp complexities.

A more modest version of this question surfaces in the mundane matter of when to call a break. In general, 90 minutes is a serviceable upper limit, though kinesthetic learners will need them more frequently if there's been no movement, and people will run out of gas sooner if they've been working hard emotionally. Going the other way, an examination that's been uplifting or energizing can be parlayed into extended play.

o  People respond to the environment differently
—Diurnal cycles
Some people love mornings and are pretty much toast after dinner. Others don't hit their stride until the sun is west of the yardarm, and good until midnight. In our training, we meet every morning (except Fridays) and all evenings are free time. While that's not an unusual schedule, it clearer favors the chicken end of the diurnal spectrum: up at first light, and in bed by dark.

—Climate change
The context of the training is that it's happening in Missouri, smack in the midst of summer. That means a hot and muggy ambience. While our student from southern Indiana is doing just fine; the one who came from Oregon is sweltering and struggling to get enough sleep.

—Acclimating to community
In addition to the temperature and humidity, a number of the students are new to community and are experiencing culture shock. How should they greet residents on the path? Is it OK to swim in the pond au naturale? Do people drink coffee (and who do I have to bribe to get a cup)? When all of the teaching staff lives in community, we tend to forget how disorienting it can be to encounter it for the first time.

—Fan noise
I'm not talking about too much cheering (or jeering) when someone's at the free throw line; I'm taking about how hard it can be to hear someone's heartfelt statement with an air conditioner or ceiling fan whirring in the background. We have a handful of students who are naturally soft-spoken and it can be a delicate matter asking some to speak up when sharing a personal tragedy that you didn't quite catch.
 o  Teaching formats
While there is a rich array of choices in this rgeard, let me walk through four basic choices:

—Small groups (emphasizing student-derived input)
While this tends to take longer to generate useful product (which also tends to be less profound), and limits sharply how much you can cover, it generally results in solid buy-in, and rarely results in anyone falling asleep.

—Group discussion
This is more engaging than a lecture, and less diffuse than small group work. It can, however, take considerable skill to draw out the points the teacher wants to emphasize.

—Storytelling
This can be riveting (if you select powerful stories that are on point), yet is slower and less direct than lecture and only involves the students to the extent that they can place themselves in the story.

—Lecture
You can cover a lot of ground; yet this is the most tenuous format when it comes to rapport with students. This approach can be highly effective with students who have sufficient familiarity with the territory and the motivation to learn the topic, yet you cannot count on that condition.

—Focus on problems or assets?
One school of pedagogy is that it's better to build on what works (generating and maintaining a more positive atmosphere); another is that it's more effective to focus on issues such that breakthroughs lead to an immediate sense of accomplishment. Which way to go?

In short, it's a puzzlement.