Teaching is a tricky craft. Whenever I feel like I’ve got it figured out, something happens to make me realize I have a lot to learn. It could be as simple as walking into the classroom with a lesson plan designed for 20 students, and discovering that today, there are only six. Or, a group that asks so many questions, promoting a full blown class discussion, that we run out of time for instruction. Or, halfway through a lecture, realizing I’ve lost most of the class either through boredom, or my over complication of the subject.
Preparation is key. Even if I don’t use a plan, it’s invariably better to have written one than not having one at all. When I give a speech, I dislike reading from notes. (I’m shocked by how many people think it’s acceptable to read their speeches from their phones.) But, that doesn’t mean I haven’t prepared a speech. I usually write it out as I imagine delivering it, then memorize the important connections and improvise the rest.
One of the rewarding aspects of teaching is learning. I learn about the subject I’m sharing, and about myself. Astute students probe the gaps in my knowledge and understanding of a subject and encourage me to delve deeper. Just because one knows how to do something doesn’t necessarily mean that one can teach it to someone else. Teaching requires one to break down a topic into digestible chunks and in so doing, one deepens familiarity with it.
Teaching also encourages humility. When confronted with a question that one simply doesn’t know the answer to, it is far better to admit, “I don’t know,” or “I don’t have an answer for that,” than to bullshit a half-assed response. Then one’s homework is to go back to one’s books and do one’s best to find the correct answer, bringing one back to the teaching is learning benefit.
When teaching physical movement, especially capoeira, I sometimes have to show or explain a technique that I cannot successfully perform myself. For example, Macaco, which is a form of back handspring begun from a low squat, is a movement I’ve struggled with for years. I can do a corrupted version of it, but I don’t have the hollow body arch (as in a back bridge) that makes the move truly beautiful. However, I can describe the steps to get there and show enough that a young, flexible capoeirista can do it, sometimes the very first day they try it.
I’m trying to improve my understanding of pedagogy (def: the art, science, or profession of teaching - Merriam-Webster, or from Greek for, one who guides a child.) Essentially, examining how students learn most effectively. Like learning a new language, the deeper I go, the more I realize how vast the practice of sharing knowledge is, and how much more there is to explore. The Covid-19 pandemic of 2020 showed us that technology can and will play a big part in learning, moving forward. The methods we use are constantly evolving and adapting to our current culture, our modern students and the tools we have at our disposal. Rather than finding this frustrating, I find it exhilarating and simutaneously terrifying.
I am fortunate that the teaching I do is rooted in the physical realm and must be embodied. It cannot be outsourced to an AI large language model. My students have to forge the neural connections and pathways through practice. They can read all they want, or watch a million videos, or have Claude do their homework for them, but the doing of the activity, whether it’s bodywork or capoeira, is how it is learned.
Each time I prepare for a class, or a new cohort, I think of the teachers who inspired me, and sparked a fascination within me, and strive to be able to do the same for my students.