Category: Learning

Some of the stuff I wanted to learn about in moments of madness.

Time travel

A part of my routine includes writing a journal.
Paper & fountain pen.
It’s my way of tending to the garden of my mind, which tends to be overgrown with weeds.
The weeds grow pretty quickly, nurtured & watered by the emotions of the day.
Writing is how I remove the weeds from one small area of the mind.

I write in whatever notebooks I find lying around, usually cheap notebooks that we buy for the kids.
For last decade or so, I’ve not thrown them out with the garbage.

$0.10 each when blank.

I picked one of them at random this morning, & it turned out to be from 2014, March.

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday. It’s impossible to remember what I was thinking and feeling  and worried about 6 years ago.  Using a journal to time-travel (or space travel) is a little bit of my idea of fun. Also why I enjoy reading.

There was no entry dated 7 March, but there was one for the 5th, made in the evening.  I’d not discovered the treasure trove of learning how to use the writing tools well, so my handwriting is barely legible.

For a little context, it was a time of upheaval at work with the usual restructures et al.
I had my desk in a corner of the basement garage.

 

05 Mar 14, 8:01 pm
 

Another day passes him by. A day full of pretend business and busy-ness. Meetings. Passing paper around. Or e-paper. Practising politics. Pretending things are more important than they really are.

But lest this become all doom and gloom, he discovered a blog by a Sydneysider, “Life and other crises”, by Kerri Sackville. An entertaining writer no doubt, but it was her secret self-help tool that inspired the writing style in this 3rd person today. He wants to see if this is useful or merely a passing curiosity.

The Toastmasters contest needed more contestants in this speech evaluation, so he decided he would take part. He was disqualified on time grounds, but had fun nonetheless. Imagery was widely used by all the speakers throughout. It was as if each took some random color & threw it on to the grey matter in everyone’s brain & magically created a masterpiece in each one of the audience’s minds. 

He witnessed another master communication in action, the CEO, & the fear in the MD’s eyes & body during a “meet-the-folks-who-pay-my-lifestyle” meeting. People pretend they are uncaring about the whole affair, while each one, internally, is terrified of the changes that will shortly be unleashed. 
His wife was here, inviting him back into real life, so head upstairs he will. And must.

 

Radio Silence

Throughout the AltMBA, a recurring feedback I had, that despite my oft-used crutch that English is not my first language, the assumptions I have about opportunities & the self-imposed constraints were invalid. My writing was “easy to read”, I “already have a voice, use it”, I have “a way with words” were some of the comments I received on my writing. The challenge for me: How could I reframe the problem or the situation so I could see the options?

I was mulling over this question driving home one night. The car radio was locked on our local country music station. The presenter was having a ball, talking about the music he was about to play for his captive audience. It’s funny how the mind works: I remembered immediately of “Pedro”, the presenter on the morning show, who seemed to have gone off air for a while now.

The next morning, I was on the radio station’s website to see if I could find out if his segment / time had changed.  That was when I saw an advertisement pop-up: “Volunteers required for administration of the station”. Things seemed to connect in my mind, radio – music – voice – volunteer – community. Feeling excited, I dashed off an email offering to help, using their “contact us” form.

Two weeks went by, & I hadn’t heard back. “Their move” is my default response to most things after I’ve taken the first step – “let them take the next step”.   To my bad luck, the echoes in my head, the words in my writing have all been saying the same thing: “examine your assumptions, examine your narratives”.

There were several alternatives for the radio silence – pun intended. There didn’t actually have anyone reading the emails. The email may not even have been delivered. The person responsible for correspondence didn’t get my mail. And so on. So I followed it up with an email from my mailbox, gently reminding that I had volunteered, & was hoping the lack of response was because they didn’t need my help.

That email got an immediate, apologetic response: the secretary was away for the next two or so weeks, and could we meet in the radio studio office on a Sunday morning to talk about how I could help. Finally a response! And child-like excitement: the last time I was in a radio station studio was 38 years ago, a chance visit thanks to my uncle singing Christmas carols on the radio.

That Sunday morning was yesterday.
I spent three hours at the studio, overlooking the beautiful waterfront. It was a surreal experience:  listening to the presenter both on the radio & in person, loving the music he was playing, & learning what needed to be done around the studio. The gentleman was multi-tasking: mentoring a new presenter, operating the playlist, talking to me about the station’s history & the generosity of the local community, the challenges of running a community radio station. I was mesmerized by how smoothly he went from frantic activity around the office to a calm, soothing voice on the radio, & told him so.  I felt at home in the tiny studio, enjoying the conversation & the music. Oh, & among the memorablia on the walls, I found this picture of Glen Campbell. I’ve been blown away with his rendition of “Gentle on my mind“

I’ll be at the station next Sunday, helping however I can. Maybe I’ll even get to host a show 🙂

Learning active listening .. on public transport

Public transport is a great observatory for human behaviour. 
 
I notice that most people, myself included, prefer to drown out the noise with earphones of some sort: squeaking wheels, rumbling engines, boring announcements don’t make for a good soundtrack for our commuting lives. We’d rather prefer our favourite music or a podcast or a movie to the cacophony that surrounds us. 
Occasionally though you get yanked out of the commuter reverie by someone talking. Often because the voice is at a higher frequency than the captivating sounds in our ears. You turn the volume down, & eavesdrop on this conversation that, at first, sounds like an argument. But no. It’s the local fishing enthusiast, explaining to the tourist-y looking types, about the best spots to go fishing. They’re doing a day trip into the city but want to check out the outdoors tomorrow. No, you don’t need a boat. Walk down that leafy lane, & you’ll see a little path – only if you look carefully. Here, look at what I caught there  yesterday. (Loud guard announcement drowns out the rest of the conversation). 
Every now & then, I forget my earphones or to charge the laptop or to carry a book. On those commutes, I learn something about the community I live in.  I also get to practice my listening skills. 
Not because I want to know the juicy details of that story the two women who can’t (won’t?) keep their voices down, but because I have no choice than to keep my mouth shut.
If I approached the same listening-to-speaking ratio in other areas of my life, I wonder what I’d discover?

Work that you love

Is that an oxymoron?

Really, if it’s work, can you love it?
And if you love it, is it work?

Pedantic questions aside, what is it that I really enjoy about my work?

For much of my last two decades, my identity has been defined by my qualifications & work. In direct contrast to how I thought of myself for the previous two decades of my life. I loved art, music, life in general. I drew my energy from the world around me, from books, from sketching & cartooning, from spending time in nature, observing things around me, curiosity driving many of my questions, & driving the adults in charge mad. I loved solving problems, words, cross-words, puzzles & math. I loved the idea of travel, the idea of meeting my idols, the idea of learning new things.

While I didn’t have much of a choice in the path I ended up on, it started a course of events in my life that didn’t make any sense at the time, but in retrospect, have been perfect. Maybe that’s the case of most people, if not everyone. For two decades,  I tried to find every avenue to learn & do things other than what I had “qualifications” to do. Not  being formally accountable  for these things was a double-edged sword: I could experiment with my learning, but I would forever remain a dilettante.

Today, I find myself doing work I love. I get to work with words, help apply math to real-world puzzles & problems, to learn. I occasionally get to travel, & rather than just meet my idols, I get to meet amazing people every day.

What isn’t to love?

On Learning habits

I’m sure I’m not alone in doing this.

Something catches my attention, & I want to learn more about it.
I immediately jump to the resources that seem to appeal to me.
I try to do it.
I fail.
I give up.
Ad infinitum.

I think there’s a word for it: dilettante. A pejorative.

Occasionally, something sticks with me long enough that I learn the basics well enough that they become habits. “know enough to be dangerous”.

On a quest now to figure out, mid-life, what motivates me to want to learn something new, and how to learn about it so it sticks.

Learning to type

My son, all of 8 years old, has started learning to type.  He’s figuring out what the home row means, & how his fingers don’t have to move all that distance to type just one letter, that he can do it with both hands, and things are not as complicated as the jumbled letters on the keyboard.  Sure, it confuses the bejesus out of him, but he keeps going on.

What’s the point of this post? Who knows, I just found it fascinating that age is just a number when it comes to learning. Kids probably learn much faster than than we give them credit for.

Learning anew

How much I hated the rote learning of formulas, especially when it came to trigonometry & calculus!

For one, I didn’t understand why it was remotely useful for those of us who’d taken up accounting / commerce as our primary learning area (no, we couldn’t do double degrees – one was bad enough!) Worse still, was the (now apparent) lack of understanding of some teachers themselves, in so far as being unable to explicitly tie the things we were learning to something in the visible world.
There was neither the intrinsic motivation to learn, nor did it seem relevant or important to just get on with it, & get an intuition for it.

There may have been a few of my fellow students who innately understood it in relation to their technical interests, but I strongly suspect they cared about as much as I did, which was very little.

A couple of weeks ago, Rasmus Baath, a researcher, tweeted a link to a 100+ year old Calculus text book, which he followed up by tweeting that his one post that went viral was a book on maths, not cats! I was curious why that may have been so, & spent a little time looking for the pdf of the book that is now clearly out of copyright, & therefore freely available.

Two pages in, & I was hooked. I mean, how could you not be, when the book is titled: “Being a very simple-est introduction to those beautiful methods of reckoning which are generally called by the terrifying names of the differential calculus and the integral calculus by the RFS”.

The quote on the next page simply states: “What one fool can do, another can” (Ancient Simian proverb)

The prologue is even more relevant: “To deliver you from the preliminary terrors, which chokes off most (kids) from even attempting to learn how to calculate”, with a lucid explanations about the dreadful symbols for differentiating & integrating!

I’ve now spent at least a good few hours of my time learning about the fascinating teaching style of the author, a man named Silvanus Thompson! I know he’d have gotten an incredible amount of needling from the boys he’d have taught (if my classmates were any reflection of the cruelty reserved for teachers). I’m grateful that he took the time to write as he has, & that the book is still available.  I know it is, because I bought a used copy off one of my favourite online bookseller.

Learning

My 10 year old taught me to do somersaults in the pool today. She was chuffed I could do it after drinking the pool a few times 🙂
And then she taught me how to do back-flips.  I learnt that too. Much harder than the somersaults. I’m sore, and tired. And pleased. And very happy.

She was a good teacher. I may have been an okay student. Should ask her when she wakes up in the morning.