I still have a page from an old trumpet method book – chromatic studies – where I boldly scrawled, “repeat until you die!” Obviously, I was feeling frustrated enough to shout at myself in writing. The “advice” was valid though. I kept working on chromatic studies until I became proficient and didn’t feel the need to order myself around…as much.
Educationally speaking, learning requires cognitive dissonance, that conflict or discomfort we feel when being exposed to new facts or concepts, or when trying to master new skills. Sometimes the learning curve is steep enough that we want to yell at ourselves. Mostly we need to be patient and keep working. Anything worthwhile takes time and effort. “No pain, no gain,” our coaches told us.
One of my teachers, Charles Gorham, told me that his job was to throw “curve balls” to keep me on my toes. Often, I would practice and believe I was “ready” for a trumpet lesson, only to be thrown off balance by his suggestion to play something differently. After the dust settled, I had learned to be more flexible, more adaptable, and somehow more secure. Much like martial artists, musical artists must be ready for whatever the situation throws at them, not just what is in the method book. When asked about what belt he had achieved, Bruce Lee reportedly said, “I don’t have any belt whatsoever. That is just a certificate. Unless you can really do it – that is, defend yourself successfully in a fight – that belt doesn’t mean anything. I think it might be helpful to hold your pants up, but that’s about it.”
New ideas can make us feel uncomfortable. That’s probably because they are supposed to. If a musician is always content with their performance, they will not improve. If a student is content with “2+2=5,” “the Earth is flat,” “women must obey men,” or “slaves were treated well,” they might be upset to learn otherwise. And sometimes they become angry when what they thought they knew turns out to be questionable at best. Yet, becoming uncomfortable is often the beginning of improvement. All those “curve balls” Charles Gorham threw made me a better player. All those tough questions my teachers asked as they shared new information made me a better person.
During the last part of my teaching career, we paid increasing attention to “trigger warnings” and helping students feel “safe.” I understand that when discussing difficult topics, teachers must be sensitive to the prior experiences of their students. For example, in one of my critical thinking seminars we were having a mini-debate on the legalization of marijuana. I noticed one of my students became withdrawn and was on the verge of tears, even though I stressed the “academic” nature of the debate and tried to keep the discussion neutral, civil, and respectful. When I asked her what was wrong, she said she had a family member who was killed by an impaired driver. Because of this, she didn’t feel like being part of the discussion. I pointed out that her feelings are important, because no matter what anyone says about anything else, real people are affected. Her experience turned out to be essential to the debate.
As I look back on that class, it seems to me everyone felt uncomfortable when the discussion took an emotional turn. My point here is that if I had somehow avoided “triggering” a person, or ignored her reaction, none of us would have learned what I have taken with me to this day: our choices affect people’s lives. No amount of rhetoric, rationalization, or economic or statistical analysis can erase the fact that we must try to understand how both the law and our collective behavior might benefit some while seriously harming others. At some point, our intentions no longer matter – only the consequences of our actions or inaction.
As I write this, many states are considering laws that intend to limit discomfort for some students. What if a little discomfort is what these students need in order to learn? It seems to me, no one should be comfortable when a law, policy, or societal norm turns out to harm a great number of people. Of course, wild accusations, shaming, and blaming will do no good. However, we need to confront our discomfort and use it to improve ourselves. If some need to repeat little chromatic studies as if they are the last thing they ever do, how much more do we need to take a hard look at how actions taken because of misinformation or ignorance can hurt a lot of people? If we want to be safe, maybe we need to use our discomfort to help us treat each other better.
MurrayWorks 