How I Learn Stuff

When my dog was killed I saw the school bus coming back up the long dirt road. I saw it coming as I stood over the broken body of my sheltie Astra, who had been running around alive just five minutes earlier. I guess the bus driver never knew he killed her, because he waved at me. And too late I thought to seize a rock and smash his goddamned windshield. Oh the fury I felt in that five seconds. Maybe broken glass in the driver’s face would help him understand what he had done to me. I looked but there were only bits of gravel on the ground, and a moment later the bus was bouncing away and gone. I couldn’t even bring to mind a fitting swear word to shriek after it (all that practice I had at summer camp for nothing.) I seethed and vibrated for a moment, then my stomach dropped away. I couldn’t look at Astra. I walked to the house and went to bed. I later learned that my step-father, Jon Fineman, buried her in the forest.

Astra was the family dog, but I always felt she loved me best.  Everyone knew she belonged to me.

I had never experienced grief before. It was a completely new sensation, like getting drunk would be, a few years later, or making love, a few years after that. But unlike those things it went on and on. I suppose I could compare it with a very high fever that puts you into delirium, but at that time I hadn’t ever been sick like that. So, it was really new for me.

My body and mind were shutting down, as if a bank of fuses had all gone out at once. I went to bed and everyone knew to stay away. Except Jon.

He came in, sat down, and said some things. I don’t recall exactly what he said. I could tell he was trying to comfort me. It wasn’t working. I didn’t want to hear from him, or anyone. I wanted everyone gone. I wanted time to turn back or the world to explode. Neither was going to happen so leave me alone Jon. Leave. Go. Go. Get out of here.

He did go after a little while.

What he said meant nothing to me, and I was embarrassed for him. What could words do for me? Words are nothing. What the hell was he trying to do?

Well, thirty years later…

I’m thinking about Astra, for some reason. Can’t remember what brought her to mind, but she drifts in now and again. Good old dog.

I remember the day she died. I had been playing with her after school: chase, fetch, and all that. We were running near the long dirt road that crossed by the front of our rural Vermont homestead. Then I got tired and went indoors. I should have taken Astra inside, too. It was my responsibility. When you play with Astra outside you don’t leave her. Because she chased cars. She especially loved to chase the high school bus that would be bringing my sister home any moment. I didn’t bring the dog in. I was careless. Then the bus came, she charged into it, and went under the wheels.

The family knew I left her out. Jon knew, and he was big on the philosophy of consequences. But when he came to speak to me later that night– when I ignored him and despised him– he said nothing of that. He chose not to add his voice to the chorus in my mind screaming at me, that I had killed our happy dog. Then this man, Jon Fineman, who loved Astra too, told me how he also had a dog once that died. He offered his friendship, and he forgave me.

So, What?

When you speak to your child, and you feel that he is not listening, maybe he isn’t. When you speak to him and you suspect he’s silently ridiculing you, maybe he is. When the gift of your advice or sympathy fails in every way to touch him, and you believe yourself a failure, maybe you are. For now.

Bide your time.

Just imagine the man he will be, someday. His now subtle and caring mind clambering back through his life, looking for support in the events that shaped him– just imagine how he’ll come upon your words. The gift you tried to give. Faded on the outside, yet vital still inside, it will open like a blossom. Even thirty years later.

Thanks, Jon.

When you speak to your children today, you are also speaking to every day of their future selves. Parenting is outside of time. Take care and take heart in that.

When my publisher decided to release my Secrets book for “free” as an ebook, I thought it meant FREE. I just found it meant free-for-a-little-while-and-then-gone. Apparently it has some sort of DRM expiration date on it.

[Update: One of my tester friends found that he could defeat the expiration mechanism by playing with the system date, but that's not very practical, I guess.]

They didn’t mention this to me when they told me about the promotion. I suppose they thought “Well OBVIOUSLY it’s only free for a period of time… we’re in the publishing business!” But it wasn’t obvious to me or I would have told you when I announced it.

[Update: Turns out the editors running the promotion did not know that the download had a time limit.]

Anyway, you can still download the book until the 24th of July, and you can read it for some period of time after that before it goes POOF. Not bad, considering that it didn’t cost you anything except the annoyance of downloading it, but still…

Naturally, I hope everyone goes out and buys the hardcover with real money. That way I’ll be encouraged to write more books. Otherwise, it’s an expensive hobby.

Side note: It’s interesting how glitchy the process is, too. Several people found that the special Adobe reader software complained and moaned and wouldn’t install on their systems. QUALITY IS DEAD!

I wrote Secrets of a Buccaneer-Scholar for several reasons. The principle reason was to impress my dad. But right after that is another important one: I want to talk with people, argue with people, and work with people on the subject of self-education and how to brand ourselves and invent ourselves as thinkers.

My father is quite reclusive. I’m the opposite– though I guess if the book is very successful I will have to reconsider that. Anyway, for the moment, I’m very accessible, and I hope people will write me and tell me how they react to the ideas. I hope my follow-on to Secrets will be something about how these principles work for different people.

Several hundred folks have gotten the free download. So, read it and talk to me!

If it’s successful enough, I expect to get hit with a lot of criticism for my attacks on school. I say: bring it on.

Amanda Enclade (@aenclade) is one of the unschooling lights on Twitter. She posed a problem: How do you help young adults who can’t read, learn to read?

Approaching this problem as a buccaneer, first I remind myself:

Neither I, nor anyone else, can “educate” someone against their will or inclination. Where it appears that this has successfully been done, it’s but a shallow illusion. Yet, I do feel good if I can be of service, so let me look into it…

Next, I focus on a particular person, and think a few skeptical thoughts:

1. Maybe he doesn’t want to learn to read. What makes me think that he does? Maybe his desire is weak, or maybe it appears weak because the desire is masked by fear.
2. Maybe he doesn’t want help learning to read. Has he specifically asked for my help? If not, maybe he wants to ask and doesn’t know how. Maybe he’s embarrassed to ask. Maybe he’s comfortable learning on his own and I should butt out.
3. Maybe he can already read. Illiteracy is not an all or nothing thing. We are all illiterate in some ways. Try reading a patent, for instance. Try reading a medical textbook, or instructions for doing origami. Maybe my illiterate friend has trouble reading novels, but no trouble reading street signs. Maybe he knows the alphabet. I would need to learn what level of reading ability he already had and build on that.
4. Maybe his life would be better if he didn’t read. You know what I love about walking around Lund, Sweden? It’s that I can’t read the signs. I don’t speak or read Swedish, so the advertising on the signs doesn’t burden my mind. I can walk and think more easily than when I’m in New York City. I get along fine in other countries without the ability to read. Depending on what kind of life you want to live, you may not need to read at all. Socrates apparently didn’t read. You can live a quiet, earnest, and helpful domestic life without reading. I saw an interview with a fellow who taught English in Japan, no one ever knew he could not read.
5. Maybe the world would be better if he didn’t read. I believe the world benefits from having in it people with a wide variety of abilities and different kinds of focus. Someone who doesn’t read may focus on music (I’m a musician who doesn’t read music, by the way), or building things, or art. He may become adept at teamwork– getting other people to read things for him. This may lead to new ideas, new art forms, new communities. I like the example of my dogs. My dogs can’t read, but their beaming enthusiasm and affection makes my life more worth living. Bottom line: someone who can’t read may make someone who CAN read better at what they do.

Now let’s say that my friend asks me to help him learn to read. Okay, well, I’ve never helped anyone learn to read before (my son wouldn’t let me help him, except with a word here and there). I have no specific program for teaching reading. Obviously, I’m not an expert in this. But let’s assume there are no experts nearby willing or able to help. Or let’s assume my friend doesn’t want help from a stranger. Based on how I have helped other people (mostly adults) learn various things, this is what I would do.

1. First, talk with him. I want to discover his history of trying to learn to read. What went wrong? How does he feel about it?
2. Discover his talents and achievements. Learning something new and difficult requires us to believe “I AM SMART ENOUGH!” That’s why, as a coach, I’m always alert to any hint of confidence or pride. I want to fan those flames. Often the people I teach are not aware of how smart they already are, and it takes someone like me (with an outside perspective) to point out what is obvious to everyone but them.
3. Discover how I can learn from him. I don’t find it appealing or useful, long-term, to be an authority figure dispensing wisdom. (Short term, for childish ego reasons, I kinda like it.) So, I want to position myself as a fellow student. That means as I help others learn, I also learn. If I’m helping a man read better, I will ask him to teach me something in return. In general, this will improve his confidence, while helping me exercise my sometimes lazy humility.
4. Discover the authentic problem and turn it into a project. There’s got to be a good reason to read. I need to find that. I want my friend to finish the sentence “If I could read better I would be able to [...] which is important because [...].” Maybe he wants to read a novel, or maybe a textbook of case law. Once we have found an authentic problem, we can set about solving it. Put the authentic problem into the context of a project to accomplish something tangible. My son learned to type mainly because I would not type for him when he wanted to enter cheat code for video games. His project was playing better at video games. Knowing his way around the keyboard was crucial. Later, he wanted to appear older than the age of 12 when playing World of Warcraft online, that inspired him to learn to type chat messages in complete sentences, with good punctuation and spelling. Other players guessed that he was 25.
5. Focus on doing. Sometimes lecture matters. Mostly I want to get him doing things. If you want to learn to read, start trying to read!
6. Watch CAREFULLY for ANY improvement or accomplishment and celebrate it. Sometimes students can’t tell when they are getting better, or focus too much on mistakes. Every little success is an existence proof of a better future.
7. Watch for bold mistakes and celebrate those, too. Among my son’s first sentences was “No, please!” Technically an incorrect sentence, but what a bold idea to combine those two words. I told him he hurt my feelings once when he was five or so, and he said, with an elaborate and sincere sigh. “Ooookay Dad, I FORGIVE you.” Wrong words, but such a worthy mistake. Failing while sincerely trying is a kind of failure we must not fear, and therefore, we must celebrate it.
8. Set expectations low, and aspirations high. Let’s set our sights on reading Scientific American or Shakespeare. We can aspire to those things, without beating ourselves up for not getting there very quickly. Expectations must be kept low to prevent discouragement, but aspirations must be set high to stir the heart.
9. Don’t fret about lapses. Energy for this process may ebb, then flow. It’s all good. There’s no need for a do or die mentality. Externally imposed discipline can be a dangerous corrupting force. I might nudge and harass now and again, but ultimately, I watch the energy of the student and reflect that. Helping someone learn should not be like doing CPR or electroshock therapy.

Secrets of a Buccaneer-Scholar is now available in electronic form. You can get it from Simon & Schuster, or less expensively on the Kindle from Amazon.com.

[UPDATE: This will be a free download from HERE (or free on Kindle) from the 13th to the 24th. This is all part of the publisher trying to get the word out about it.]

It will be available in hard cover starting in September. It’s being translated into Portuguese, Italian, Russian, and Chinese, that I know of. Also possibly other languages that I was told about and then forgot.

I expected that the Kindle version would be poorly formatted… and it is… but not as poorly as I expected. It’s quite readable. But the print version is definitely easier on the eyes. I have it on the Kindle so that I can always quote myself!