By Virginia Brackett
November 9, 2022
Virginia Brackett
18 Learning How You Learn
As I analyze my learning style, I realize that some of my best teaching experiences involve what I may at first see as failures. Yes, we all love the big wins, but I’ve found over time that I learn much more from activities in which I don't at first succeed.
For example, when I began research for my memoir about my father, KIA in Korea, I realized that, never having been part of the military, I would have to learn new terms and concepts. I began by writing down information about his military experience that I did not at first fully understand, such as that he was part of the 17th Infantry. But I didn't exert the necessary effort to really educate myself. Excited to discover military groups online to whom I could write for information, I fired off various emails. As I recount in my book’s first chapter, I received a response from a helpful individual who gently explained that I had “contacted the site, 17th ARTILLERY which is not the same as 17th INFANTRY.” He signed his reply, “Good luck. Doug.” I was embarrassed by the mistake, but also grateful that a kind stranger made the effort to correct me. Had I invested the time accuracy demands, I wouldn’t have wasted Doug’s.
My mistake reminded me to learn and apply the rules before diving straight into the pool. That awkward metaphor is a reference to the time I embarrassed my ten-year-old self at our local public pool by leaping directly into the water, only to be called out – loudly – by a lifeguard. He reminded me, and not gently, of the rule that I had to shower first. It was the first rule on a list of ten or so on the whiteboard hanging beside the entry gate into the pool area.
I slowly pulled my mortified ego out of the pool, hoping no one would notice. Fat chance. Activity around the pool came to a halt, as everyone watched me will myself to melt into a puddle on the hot concrete. Everyone included the handsome high schooler running the snack bar, who leaned out over the bar edge to not miss any detail. (He may or may not have called me “Stinky” throughout that summer.) “Can’t you read?” the lifeguard demanded, pointing to the list of clearly posted rules. Well, sure, I could, but I didn’t choose to put rules before my personal pleasure.
Decades later I didn’t have to publicly share my Infantry v. Artillery mistake. However, I did because mistakes are part of any research process, and I learn from them. In addition, I hoped sharing mine might ease anxieties for others who want to write their family stories. And finally, I thought Doug deserved kudos for his gesture.
As for my learning style? Apparently, I require repetitive reminders. At least these days I respond with more grace, pick up my unimportant ego, and move along toward my more important goal.