Last winter I went skiing. This probably isn't monumental for those who love winter and cold and the rush of wind in one's face as they fly, adrenaline-filled, down a snowy slope. But for anyone like me, a 40-something whose only ski experience was as a 12 year old who didn't even make it down the bunny slope, the sentence is a loaded statement.
What prompted the experience was my boyfriend and sons, all avid skiers. "Don't waste your money on a lesson. We can teach you to ski better than those instructors you had when you were twelve," they said. But, just like my 12-year-old self, I never even made it up the bunny slope. What resulted was them attempting to persuade me to even get on the chair lift.
"Just watch us!" they said, jumping in front of the path of a swinging chair barreling toward their behinds.
"Nope. Not gonna happen," was my response. They just couldn't understand why I didn't get it. Why me watching their skills as skiers wasn't transferring to me being able to ski. It wasn't until I fumbled and slipped my way over to the Beginner Ski Lessons that I discovered what I really needed to gain some skiing skills: skiing strategies. The instructor started with me on one ski, shuffling in a circle to get the feel of moving over snow, my foot immobile. Before long I was up on two skis, able to turn back and forth, using my weight to guide my movement. My instructor watched, offering feedback as I went.
"Try to lift the ski a bit here," he'd advise, offering me strategies to build up my skills. For the first time in my life, I made it down a hill in skis.
One of the benefits of teaching is our deep knowledge of content, and proficient skills as readers and writers. It's also one of our downfalls. Skills that we perform automatically are often the most frustrating to teach because we don't remember those strategies that grew our proficiency. At times we don't recognize that a student might not need to watch us perform the skill to learn it; he/she needs strategies to scaffold their ability to perform that skill automatically. Often watching an expert perform a skill can make a student feel like I did when I watched my sons and boyfriend hop on the chair lift: Nope. There's no way I can do that. But offering scaffolded strategies can.
Genius! What a great example to shine a light on our daily work. This sentence really ties it together: Skills that we perform automatically are often the most frustrating to teach because we don't remember those strategies that grew our proficiency. Love it!
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful connection to make. That is so very true. We need to find those little steps and strategies to nudge our students along their journeys! Thanks for sharing and congrats on trying something new!
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