Eagle Island Base Camp

Eagle Island Base Camp

Monday, September 22, 2014

Learning

As autumn arrives, and summer fades into memory, I had a few thoughts on how we teach, and how we learn, when it comes to scouting and bushcraft skills.

My first year of junior college had me in a classroom where the professor was telling us shiny-faced 18 year-olds that the point of higher education was to get to the point where we could teach ourselves, and not need a guy like him. Later, in graduate school I learned about the Orders of Ignorance, and was told that the goal in any learning should be to reduce your OI by one, at least.

In my experience working outdoors with my kids and my scouts, watching survival shows on TV, paying for a week of hands-on instruction, and even my back-yard practice, there is hopefully an element of discovery involved. Trying something new, trying an old trick in a new way, or under different conditions, just as long as I'm pushing the envelope a little bit.

Recently I've seen more and more argument about teachers, though, and harsh critiques of people who've set out to share something, because the viewer didn't like the guy's style, or thought he had a better way, or was put off by a certain method. One thing I've learned, and I think this is really important to keep in mind when trying to learn anything, is that a teacher is the sum of their experience, training, and environment. The sum of human experience is far greater than any individual can ever imagine, let alone master, so I think it bears remembering that every teacher has something to offer, because they've been to places I haven't, done things I've not thought of, or researched and learned techniques and disciplines that I've not already mastered myself. Even on my death bed, when I've done all the wilderness survival, camp cooking, knot-tying, fish-catching, and tent-sleeping I've cared to do, I will most certainly not be able to say "I've done it all." There are ways of doing this that I'll never get around to, never earn mastery of, or even have an experience close enough to really understand why they do it that way over there, when I do it this way over here.

When I try to teach, I try to share what I've learned so that others can gain skills, and earn vital knowledge... the kind that, once known, doesn't need to be remembered. I know where my limits are, though, and I expect most other instructors of any craft know this about themselves as well. The know-it-all's tend to get weeded out eventually. And as I was pondering this subject, it occurred to me that there are a couple of truths that anyone, learning or teaching, ought to keep in mind before judging someone too hard. Style counts less than substance, and those who get hung up on "how" someone goes about their teaching may be missing important information stuffed inside the wrapper. The other thing is, someone's method of teaching informs the student, it doesn't always define the whole person. A popular instructor may have a distinct persona, but especially in the case of television shows, that's usually just the facet they show to make their mark in an increasingly crowded market. At home, as human beings, we're far more complex than we tend to be for a fixed audience. I know at scout camp, I'm the Man In Charge... but I don't live my life this way, and there are very specific reasons I operate a camp of youth the way I do that has nothing to do with me as a person.

So next time you're looking for a school to teach you bushcrafting skills, or watching a show with a host  you may or may not like, or reading a new book on the subject, keep in mind that you're only ever going to get a slice of the human experience out of one author, one host, or one teacher. This is where not being dogmatic, staying open-minded, and proving out what you learn through your own experience benefit you better than pride, or ego, or just plain old-fashioned stubbornness.

Now get out there, the leaves are turning.