Expertise Archives - Page 6 of 6

The Talent scout: A protected species

Danger is not a word that you often hear when talking about talent, is it? How about cavalier? Thoughtless? You may not consider it an insult for someone to quip that it all comes to you so naturally, right? It sounds like such a lovely statement.

You were born with a gift, you are talented. I believe it in my heart; I feel it.

Microinequities is what they are. Words and phrases that sounds like compliments but in actuality, they are insults. By telling you that you are talented, a talent scout has not only gained a position of prominence by noticing, but they have discounted your hard work by claiming that this gift that they recognize already exists. All eyes are on…them.

Now, nobody would actually claim the title Talent Scout. The more you say it, the more absurd it seems–and for good reason. But it is common for students, parents, teachers, administrators, and others to claim to be able to identify it. They just know…something inside of them…they could see it.

Divining — It's here somewhere just give me a second

And who are we to question them? If we challenge them, we are the bad guy, right? We are the ones claiming that a student has no talent! We are destroying hopes and dreams and ambitions!
Or are we? What’s in it for these diviners of talent? If the student believes them, they begin a course of…lessons, practice, and study. That makes sense, doesn’t it? If they are wrong? Nothing. There is no recourse, there is no sanction placed on the Talent Scout. They are, in fact, a protected species. They may even talk about the one who got away…the one who broke our hearts when they chose to follow other interests rather than their true calling. A moment of silence, please. Ahem.

I do not have intentions of defining talent per the dictionary. When we discuss it, we are not talking about aptitude, let’s be honest.

So, why is my Irish all up about this topic? It is our influence on students that we must keep in check. We should withhold judgments that place limits on students, we should withhold statements that narrow the scope of our students prematurely. We should encourage students to choose their interests and their paths and to work hard to achieve; help them to understand that it pays off. Students should be recognized for their time spent in study, practice, and determined exercise. When their persistence is discounted as a natural skill they may not even know that they were just insulted.

If, upon reading this, you are sure that this is an issue of nomenclature I have one question: Why use terms that have the potential to harm? If you mean aptitude, interest, skill, ability, etc. why not use those terms? Wouldn’t you rather be congratulated for your hard work? Discard the antiquated, inaccurate, limiting, and damaging terms.

Why define what does not exist?

Don’t get me started on dictionary definitions. They are the denotations of language but let us be serious. When is the last time any of us used a dictionary to gain meaning that we did not already understand? We use them to check spelling, to reinforce knowledge that we already possess, and to grease the gears of our minds working as we try to reword something for the benefit of ourselves and others. Why is it, then, that when there are disagreements some folks go to the dictionary for a definition? Makes no sense. Especially when we have retooled so much of the vernacular to where it is but a shadow of its original meaning.

When discussing constructs such as ‘talent,’ I understand that this is a term that provokes an emotional response. Sentimentality swells within. We think of our own experiences, the experiences of our children, the experiences of our neighbors and our friends. We like to label students as talented and we like to call people genuises–we like to have heroes. We like to perpetuate our personal myths. This is not an issue of semantics. It is an issue of honesty.

Who are these diviners? These mystics and magicians? Where is the man or woman who can read minds, see the future, and decide whether a student possesses talent? And when they make that decision, what do they do? They tell the student and the family of the student. Tell them they are special, that they have a gift? What effect does that experience have on that individual? And what are the eventual outcomes? To those who “know it when they see it,” how is your track record?

Something that I often say when addressing future educators is this: We do our students a tremendous disservice when we view them through the lens of our experience. Our past has been romanticized in our minds. We must come to terms with that. We tell our stories so many times that they have become myth and we perpetuate those myths and they become distant from the reality of the original context.

“Success is a peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you did your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming.”-Coach John Wooden (1910-2010)

You have no talent: An introduction

I have no particular talent, I am merely inquisitive.

Albert Einstein

There are only a handful of words that genuinely set my feet to tapping and get me out of my chair for a veritable dustup. I hate to even say them. It’s painful to me. Here they are: talent, potential, drive, engagement, and absolutely…sure there are more and I will think of them later.

Talent does not exist. You don’t have it, you cannot possess it, and you cannot gain it. There, I’ve said it; it’s out in the open. This is not a post about semantics. I ask that you read with an open mind and that you stave off your response until you are sure you understand what I’m getting at. It may take several posts.

Social constructs are invented based on non-scientific, but usually observable sets of phenomena. Take something like midlife crisis. When someone refers to it, we have a series of behaviors that rush to our minds. The 50 year-old who goes out and buys a sports car or completely changes appearance. That individual might quit their job and do something that they have always wanted to do. Whatever that might be, but it’s usually something out of the ordinary. I had a professor in undergrad who bought a red convertible, quit his academic job, and went off to become a minister. Why? “Midlife crisis.” It was the catchall excuse for the things that he had wanted to do but had yet to do in his life. Is there any neurological, sociological, quantifiable evidence to suggest that this phenomenon exists? Nope. But we acknowledge it. Old wives tales. Personal myths.We keep them alive and give them energy; we perpetuate them even though they do not exist. They stick around because we agree that they exist. There are far more remarkable events in the life of an individual, but these are the ones that gain prominence and become positions of defense in conversation. We fail to acknowledge that some of these beliefs undermine our credibility.

Talent regularly becomes a hotbed of conversation and eventually argument. I am reminded of a quote from Frank McCourt’s musical The Irish…and How They Got That Way where a woman states, in regard to fairies, “I don’t believe in them…but they’re there.” Some of the most reasonable and scientific of individuals go soft and sentimental–usually because they are thinking of a child with fondness–and start talking about the natural, God-given, inborn, or gift of talent that a person may possess. People use the term talent even though it is in opposition to other, strongly held, educational beliefs. The term mystifies something that should be very transparent and accessible–the development of competence through education, mentoring, and deliberate practice.

Talent is a label given by people who do not know the amount of practice that has been performed in order to develop observed skills. It is a microinequity. It is an insult. It says, “You have skills that in my judgment, you did not earn.” Isn’t it a much greater ‘gift’ to have worked hard at developing a demonstrable skill? The owners of these skills are, as are most, unreliable in reporting their own levels of interest and effort. When asked if they practice, they under-report. When inquired about their interest, they are blasé. Isaac Stern, when interviewed by Ellen Langer about his practice habits says that he practices sometimes while ‘watching television programs’ and laughs. Musicians are notorious for under- and over-reporting their practice (depending on who they are trying to impress).

Stay tuned for Pt. 1 and please post comments/questions for inclusions in coming posts!

Unshouldering the burden

Still wrapping up my thoughts from EdCamp Philly, I wanted to make sure that I put down a few thoughts that sprung to mind while in a session with Kevin Jarrett, Mary Beth Hertz, and Rob Rowe.

Flavio Canto, Judoka and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu black belt was speaking about his techniques, teaching, competing, and his drive to compete. The magazine interview has been long lost and the exact quote has long left my mind but the essence of his remarks were something like this:

I give away my techniques to my enemies in order to force myself to become better. I want to know that I am the best with no secrets and no excuses.

When I read that interview, I remembered something that had happened to me years earlier. I was recently out of undergrad and working in a bookstore’s database department on South Street. One of my coworkers was a writer and invited me to a writers’ get together in South Philly. Being a composer and fan of creative speak, I went along to this open house.

The small home was abuzz with talk of ideas, character discussion, critiques of plots and dialogue, and in a small crowd in the middle of the living room attention turned to me. “So what do you do?” I told them that I’m a composer and started telling the group about a piano piece that I was writing. Thinking that this would be a sympathetic crowd, I shared my current problems regarding the piece. I told them that I was “writing this piece for piano and I am in love with the thematic material.” They leaned in, eager to hear about my process and I was encouraged to continue. Sure that they would understand, I confessed “I like the material so much that I haven’t finished it for fear of ruining it in my mind. It’s really great and I don’t want to destroy the purity of the theme while exploring the development.”

They looked at me like I had three heads. Three ugly heads. With “I hate writers” tattooed on my eyelids. One of them spoke, “Who do you think you are?” I stared back at him. “It’s not yours. I might need that piece and you do not have the right to keep it.” The growing crowd (really, it grew and I think that someone turned the heat on) nodded in agreement. “You need to go finish that piece,” someone said. “I can’t believe you haven’t finished it yet,” said one of the throng. A few people walked away. “How long have you been letting it sit?” someone asked. I didn’t have an answer.

This experience is fresh in my mind. I can still feel the tension. It drives me, though. I think of Flavio Canto. I think of that weird Woody Allen-esque dude in South Philly. I think about how silly I am thinking that I own any of the ideas that come out of my head.

I become protective of my research, of my classroom management strategies, my course design, and my methods of increasing achievement. We all do. We have our pets. We have things that we share when asked. We plan those moments carefully so we do not give away all of our secrets. Why?

Feeling plugged up in your classroom approach? Could it be that you are shouldering a burden that is too great to bear? Education, I am finding, is something that demands to be given away. The same way that a quality story must be read and good music demands participatory listening, education requires action–and not simply the execution of the lesson. It requires sharing, grooming, perfecting, adapting, and giving away of all that you have so that it may reach its potential–without you. Your brilliant ideas will develop and become epic without you…yes, it’s true. Someone will do it better. Be proud. Now do it again. And again.

We think that we own it. Foolish, isn’t it? We protect it like a jealous love or a protective parent. Worse is when we think that it’s not that big a deal, that’s it’s not worth sharing. Also foolish. What are your confessions?