Self Directed Learning (SDL) seems requisite to effective leadership. However, there is plenty of theory to support that some people are simply better than others at self-learning and that certain SDL approaches work for certain kinds of people.
What about you? Is there something you have been wanting to learn? Well, billiards was one for me. Take some time to learn constructively and to document your learning journey. And then just have some fun as I did with my own SDL project.
Introduction
I recently determined to learn how to play a better game of billiards. This would not be a terribly difficult task, I originally thought, because my game can only be described as average - at best. Rereading my learning journal over recent days, however, I am astounded by how wonderfully complex, non-linear and ever-changing the various learning processes actually became for me throughout the last several months. The project also underscored the great value of the “continuing learner” as described by Houle. Like him, I also hold in great reverence what he called “the many-sided men of fifteenth-century Italy, whatever their calling in life, who felt it necessary to be learned in many things.” (Houle, p. 11)
Yes, I was engaged in learning to improve a specific skill. I rather unexpectedly became engaged, however, in learning about many other concepts in physics, chess, physiology, spatial relationships, fine motor skills, mathematical probabilities, sensemaking and real-time meaning construction, gamesmanship and even war-fighting strategies. Of course, as intended, I was also learning much more about how I learn.
I also realized that a certain degree of unlearning was needed to get me to a point of learning correctly and applying my new-found knowledge accurately and effectively. After years of marginal and sporadic billiards playing, I had developed a manner of holding the cue stick that was self-limiting. Among the most trying components of this learning project has been getting comfortable with holding the cue stick habitually correctly and not habitually incorrectly. At this writing, the proper method remains uncomfortable and I occasionally revert to old habits.
Interdisciplinary Connectedness
The project reminds me that learning any particular skill well will likely mean acquiring knowledge, insight and skills across other disciplines, some seemingly unrelated. Walt's expertise with wine, for example, owes much to his background as a chemist, cook and, yes, woodsman. His woodsmanship directly supports his understanding of the ubiquitous role oak plays in wine-making. It seems that this kind of multidisciplinary integration or connectedness is one of the greatest joys of learning, well exemplified in the running debate in the ‘70s between Jacob Bronowski and Kenneth Clark as to whether it was the historic interconnectivity of science or art that ensured man’s evolution. Bronowski’s The Ascent of Man (1973) argued for science and Clark’s Civilization (1969) argued for art. Nonetheless, both men agreed that learning in either context was most definitely cumulative and connected.
For me, this joy of connected, interdisciplinary lifelong learning can also present certain risks. Without my discipline and energy, I could easily get lost in the tangents and tributaries of physics, geometry, spatial relations, the history of billiards, or even the history of billiards in movies without ever actually learning how to improve my game, akin to following the “4” ball into the corner pocket and taking my eye off the more appropriate shot using the “7” ball. This has generally not been an issue for me, since I am goal directed and don’t seem to lack the initiative as discussed in the Confessore & Confessore (1992) learning autonomy profile. However, I nonetheless remain vigilant about this propensity. Indeed, I must be something of a stimulator, to use another of Houle’s terms, since I have been recently introducing my billiards instructor to a wealth of books, movies and websites about billiards that are new and exciting to him. It’s always joyous to engage in a learning environment where students can teach and teachers can learn.
Thinking About Learning
This was the first time I documented a learning activity in such an iterative, real-time fashion. I now understand why journaling in this manner is such a valuable tool in self-directed learning. It maps the learning journey in one place that eventually becomes a dynamic blueprint for reflection, adjustment change and growth. Indeed, as a writer it reinforced in me the powerful notion that one really doesn’t know what they know until they write it down. I was so glad to have undertaken the process specifically as required; for now I can’t possibly see how a learner can capture the subtleties and complexities of the process without such faithful journaling.
This reflection paper focuses on these learning processes and my ongoing interpretation and integration of them into self-improvement. My aggressive engagement in the process seemed, at times, like so many billiard balls smacking into one another on that felt-green table. While I am slightly better prepared now to enter my first beginner’s tournament, I am even better equipped to understand how I learn. I do not see myself joining this particular community of practice, in Seely-Brown & Duguid’s (1991) terms, but I am more fluent in the community’s concepts and language and more confident to enter into it temporarily as a result of this process. Furthermore, I witnessed firsthand how practice communities bonded, exchanged information and taught each other – and me! – during my own practice sessions in public pool halls.
Providing Rich Resources
I learn best in a deeply immersive, multimedia manner. I like to attack the subject from many different perspectives. I teach this way, too. I found long ago that I need and actually want the variety and stimulation that comes from learning through multiple lenses. I surround the subject in a type of learning envelopment. In this approach, I seem to be encompassing all three of Yang’s (2003) “knowledge facets” – explicit through reading and reflection, implicit through lessons and practice and emancipatory through movie and TV-competition plot lines as well as eventual competition.
In the case of improving my billiards game, I undertook the following initiatives:
- Retained the services of a personal instructor for four one-hour lessons.
- Read two very different books on the subject, described below.
- Watched parts of three different tournaments on television.
- Practiced three times in public pool halls.
- Watched several movies with billiards as central motif, such as The Hustler.
- Visited several websites on the subject.
It might also be said that these varied learning tools represent several of the “schools” of learning covered this semester, including behavioral, cognitive and social. In their totality, these multimedia inputs do seem to create an environment of triadic reciprocal causation (TRC) where, in Wood & Bandura’s (1989) terms, “behavior, cognitive and other personal factors and environmental events operate as interacting determinants that influence each other bidirectionally.” (p.361) Plus, the use of such rich resources coupled with the fact that I did not set a specific deadline for finishing this learning project finds me reinforcing Alan Tough’s view that doing so increases the likelihood that I will not feel like I have failed. Indeed, I already feel that I have succeeded with this project.
Until now, I thought my immersive approach to self-directed learning was solely due to my need and desire for multimedia stimulation and connectivity across genres. Given Wood & Bandura’s premise for TRC, however, it is likely that something much more powerful is at work here.
The Subject Matter
The Koehler (1995) book is dense with data and offers an especially rigorous set of scientific observations and explanations about billiards. It created a useful theoretical framework for my self-directed learning. Interestingly, however, the far less sophisticated but much better illustrated Byrne (1998) book was of greater utility to me. The images of balls before and after shots helped me with a problem I seem to have in anticipating and planning new geometric relationships. Specifically, I have a weakness controlling the movement of the billiard balls after I have struck them with the cue ball and placing them in the best possible location for my next shot. My instructor says that I must “be able to see the entire table several shots in advance” but, frankly, I have not yet been able to do this.
I have real problems with what I’m calling anticipatory placement. I am very intuitive and find great difficulty planning, explaining and then orchestrating expected relationships among many moving parts. To be even more specific, it seems that this learning project has shown me that my weakness is not simply anticipatory placement, which I am able to achieve in narrative form as a writer, reader, speaker and movie-goer. I’m pretty good at thinking many steps ahead in plotting political, business or even military strategy, let alone plot lines in novels or films. So, I had to take my analysis one step further and that’s when it became clear to me that the problem might be better labeled as anticipatory spatial relations. My particular difficulty is anticipating where the balls will go and then shooting in a manner that gets them there, more or less.
Interestingly, prior to this project I considered the explosion of billiard balls upon violent contact by a cue ball to be an example of complexity or chaos theory at work. Using Thietart & Forgues’ (1995) concepts and terms, billiards may seem to represent a complex adaptive system or a nonlinear dynamic system, of sorts, in which prediction impossibility and non-replicability of past situations exists. Far from it. Having watched my instructor and the professionals on television direct the seemingly exact same shot and corresponding caroms time after time, I can only conclude that billiards is less complexity and chaos than it is practice, practice and more practice.
At first, I thought learning billiards would be akin to learning to shoot a pistol or hit a golf ball, since matters of grip, breathing, focus and targeting are at play in both endeavors. However, in these terms billiards is much more akin to chess than most other games and competitions. It should be no surprise, therefore, that I took a momentary detour during the course of this project to read a book on chess history, strategy and tactics.
Interestingly, I have never held my pen “correctly.” The more the nuns scolded me in grammar school for holding the pen “like the devil,” the more determined I became to perfect this satanic form of penmanship. It’s worth noting, however, that I hold the pistol exactly as required for at least two reasons: 1) The fear of God in not doing things by the book, and 2) I was trained by the military in what Confessore & Confessore (1992) would call a high degree of structure and support coupled with my own desire to learn in that high-structure manner.
At times, I adapted to become a different type of learner in military environments, such as during chemical, biological and radiological training in Norfolk, Virginia years ago. That’s because the stakes are just too high. Since billiards is low stakes, for me at least, I may be destined to continue improvising my grip. The situation is exacerbated by the fact that a variety of different grips and finger bridges are used in many different situations in billiards, such as when the cue ball is too close to the bumper or too far down the table.
The End As Beginning
My mother always said, “You can be and do anything you put your mind to, and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” Well, Doris gave me a wonderful self-efficacy for which I am eternally thankful. It has seen me through successes in corporate, military, academic and entrepreneurial environments. Still, I wondered throughout this project whether my self-efficacy could actually hinder my learning. Sure, as Bandura (1999) points out, self-efficacy plays a central role in the self-regulation of motivation.
Yes, in Bandura’s terms, I imagined myself winning a major billiards tournament some day just as a great skier imagines a “visualized future” of successful run as he awaits the starting bell at the top of the slope. (p.29) Yet, I occasionally worry that my “I can conquer anything” attitude could actually get in the way of learning by limiting my focus or willingness to practice. It didn’t happen in this case, but it’s always worth considering. I do have to conclude at this point, not surprisingly, that I will never be a championship-caliber billiards player. However, I am more thoughtful about learning processes as a result of this project and more aware of my own learning styles and preferences.
References
Bronowksi, J. (1973). The ascent of man: Science, biology, evolution and philosophy. Boston: Little Brown & Co.
Byrne, R. (1998). Byrne’s new standard book of pool and billiards. Fort Washington, PA: Harvest Books.
Clark, K. (1969). Civilisation: A personal view. New York: Harper & Row Publishers.
Confessore, G. & Confessore, S. (1992). Guideposts to self-directed learning: Expert commentary on Essential Concepts. King of Prussia, PA: Organization Design and Development Inc.
Houle, C.O. (1961). The inquiring mind: A study of the adult who continues to learn. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press.
Keene, R. (1988). Chess: The Simon & Schuster Pocket Book. New York: Aladdin Paperbacks.
Koehler, J.H. (1995). The science of pocket billiards. Marinette, WI: Sportology Publications.
Seely-Brown, J. & Duguid, P (1999). Organizational learning and communities-of-practice: Toward a unified view of working, learning and innovation. Organizational Science, 2(1), 40-57.
Thietart, R.A., & Forgues, B. (1995). Chaos theory and organization. Organization Science, 6(1), 19-31.
Tough, A. (1978). Major Learning Efforts: Recent research and future directions. Adult Education, 28(4), 250-263.
Tough, A. (1979). The adult learning project: A fresh approach to theory and practice in adult learning (2nd edition). Toronto: Ontario Institute for Studies in Education.
Wood, R. & Bandura, A. (1989). Social cognitive theory of organizational management. Academy of Management Review, 14 (3), 361-384.
What about you? Is there something you have been wanting to learn? Well, billiards was one for me. Take some time to learn constructively and to document your learning journey. And then just have some fun as I did with my own SDL project.
Introduction
I recently determined to learn how to play a better game of billiards. This would not be a terribly difficult task, I originally thought, because my game can only be described as average - at best. Rereading my learning journal over recent days, however, I am astounded by how wonderfully complex, non-linear and ever-changing the various learning processes actually became for me throughout the last several months. The project also underscored the great value of the “continuing learner” as described by Houle. Like him, I also hold in great reverence what he called “the many-sided men of fifteenth-century Italy, whatever their calling in life, who felt it necessary to be learned in many things.” (Houle, p. 11)
Yes, I was engaged in learning to improve a specific skill. I rather unexpectedly became engaged, however, in learning about many other concepts in physics, chess, physiology, spatial relationships, fine motor skills, mathematical probabilities, sensemaking and real-time meaning construction, gamesmanship and even war-fighting strategies. Of course, as intended, I was also learning much more about how I learn.
I also realized that a certain degree of unlearning was needed to get me to a point of learning correctly and applying my new-found knowledge accurately and effectively. After years of marginal and sporadic billiards playing, I had developed a manner of holding the cue stick that was self-limiting. Among the most trying components of this learning project has been getting comfortable with holding the cue stick habitually correctly and not habitually incorrectly. At this writing, the proper method remains uncomfortable and I occasionally revert to old habits.
Interdisciplinary Connectedness
The project reminds me that learning any particular skill well will likely mean acquiring knowledge, insight and skills across other disciplines, some seemingly unrelated. Walt's expertise with wine, for example, owes much to his background as a chemist, cook and, yes, woodsman. His woodsmanship directly supports his understanding of the ubiquitous role oak plays in wine-making. It seems that this kind of multidisciplinary integration or connectedness is one of the greatest joys of learning, well exemplified in the running debate in the ‘70s between Jacob Bronowski and Kenneth Clark as to whether it was the historic interconnectivity of science or art that ensured man’s evolution. Bronowski’s The Ascent of Man (1973) argued for science and Clark’s Civilization (1969) argued for art. Nonetheless, both men agreed that learning in either context was most definitely cumulative and connected.
For me, this joy of connected, interdisciplinary lifelong learning can also present certain risks. Without my discipline and energy, I could easily get lost in the tangents and tributaries of physics, geometry, spatial relations, the history of billiards, or even the history of billiards in movies without ever actually learning how to improve my game, akin to following the “4” ball into the corner pocket and taking my eye off the more appropriate shot using the “7” ball. This has generally not been an issue for me, since I am goal directed and don’t seem to lack the initiative as discussed in the Confessore & Confessore (1992) learning autonomy profile. However, I nonetheless remain vigilant about this propensity. Indeed, I must be something of a stimulator, to use another of Houle’s terms, since I have been recently introducing my billiards instructor to a wealth of books, movies and websites about billiards that are new and exciting to him. It’s always joyous to engage in a learning environment where students can teach and teachers can learn.
Thinking About Learning
This was the first time I documented a learning activity in such an iterative, real-time fashion. I now understand why journaling in this manner is such a valuable tool in self-directed learning. It maps the learning journey in one place that eventually becomes a dynamic blueprint for reflection, adjustment change and growth. Indeed, as a writer it reinforced in me the powerful notion that one really doesn’t know what they know until they write it down. I was so glad to have undertaken the process specifically as required; for now I can’t possibly see how a learner can capture the subtleties and complexities of the process without such faithful journaling.
This reflection paper focuses on these learning processes and my ongoing interpretation and integration of them into self-improvement. My aggressive engagement in the process seemed, at times, like so many billiard balls smacking into one another on that felt-green table. While I am slightly better prepared now to enter my first beginner’s tournament, I am even better equipped to understand how I learn. I do not see myself joining this particular community of practice, in Seely-Brown & Duguid’s (1991) terms, but I am more fluent in the community’s concepts and language and more confident to enter into it temporarily as a result of this process. Furthermore, I witnessed firsthand how practice communities bonded, exchanged information and taught each other – and me! – during my own practice sessions in public pool halls.
Providing Rich Resources
I learn best in a deeply immersive, multimedia manner. I like to attack the subject from many different perspectives. I teach this way, too. I found long ago that I need and actually want the variety and stimulation that comes from learning through multiple lenses. I surround the subject in a type of learning envelopment. In this approach, I seem to be encompassing all three of Yang’s (2003) “knowledge facets” – explicit through reading and reflection, implicit through lessons and practice and emancipatory through movie and TV-competition plot lines as well as eventual competition.
In the case of improving my billiards game, I undertook the following initiatives:
- Retained the services of a personal instructor for four one-hour lessons.
- Read two very different books on the subject, described below.
- Watched parts of three different tournaments on television.
- Practiced three times in public pool halls.
- Watched several movies with billiards as central motif, such as The Hustler.
- Visited several websites on the subject.
It might also be said that these varied learning tools represent several of the “schools” of learning covered this semester, including behavioral, cognitive and social. In their totality, these multimedia inputs do seem to create an environment of triadic reciprocal causation (TRC) where, in Wood & Bandura’s (1989) terms, “behavior, cognitive and other personal factors and environmental events operate as interacting determinants that influence each other bidirectionally.” (p.361) Plus, the use of such rich resources coupled with the fact that I did not set a specific deadline for finishing this learning project finds me reinforcing Alan Tough’s view that doing so increases the likelihood that I will not feel like I have failed. Indeed, I already feel that I have succeeded with this project.
Until now, I thought my immersive approach to self-directed learning was solely due to my need and desire for multimedia stimulation and connectivity across genres. Given Wood & Bandura’s premise for TRC, however, it is likely that something much more powerful is at work here.
The Subject Matter
The Koehler (1995) book is dense with data and offers an especially rigorous set of scientific observations and explanations about billiards. It created a useful theoretical framework for my self-directed learning. Interestingly, however, the far less sophisticated but much better illustrated Byrne (1998) book was of greater utility to me. The images of balls before and after shots helped me with a problem I seem to have in anticipating and planning new geometric relationships. Specifically, I have a weakness controlling the movement of the billiard balls after I have struck them with the cue ball and placing them in the best possible location for my next shot. My instructor says that I must “be able to see the entire table several shots in advance” but, frankly, I have not yet been able to do this.
I have real problems with what I’m calling anticipatory placement. I am very intuitive and find great difficulty planning, explaining and then orchestrating expected relationships among many moving parts. To be even more specific, it seems that this learning project has shown me that my weakness is not simply anticipatory placement, which I am able to achieve in narrative form as a writer, reader, speaker and movie-goer. I’m pretty good at thinking many steps ahead in plotting political, business or even military strategy, let alone plot lines in novels or films. So, I had to take my analysis one step further and that’s when it became clear to me that the problem might be better labeled as anticipatory spatial relations. My particular difficulty is anticipating where the balls will go and then shooting in a manner that gets them there, more or less.
Interestingly, prior to this project I considered the explosion of billiard balls upon violent contact by a cue ball to be an example of complexity or chaos theory at work. Using Thietart & Forgues’ (1995) concepts and terms, billiards may seem to represent a complex adaptive system or a nonlinear dynamic system, of sorts, in which prediction impossibility and non-replicability of past situations exists. Far from it. Having watched my instructor and the professionals on television direct the seemingly exact same shot and corresponding caroms time after time, I can only conclude that billiards is less complexity and chaos than it is practice, practice and more practice.
At first, I thought learning billiards would be akin to learning to shoot a pistol or hit a golf ball, since matters of grip, breathing, focus and targeting are at play in both endeavors. However, in these terms billiards is much more akin to chess than most other games and competitions. It should be no surprise, therefore, that I took a momentary detour during the course of this project to read a book on chess history, strategy and tactics.
Interestingly, I have never held my pen “correctly.” The more the nuns scolded me in grammar school for holding the pen “like the devil,” the more determined I became to perfect this satanic form of penmanship. It’s worth noting, however, that I hold the pistol exactly as required for at least two reasons: 1) The fear of God in not doing things by the book, and 2) I was trained by the military in what Confessore & Confessore (1992) would call a high degree of structure and support coupled with my own desire to learn in that high-structure manner.
At times, I adapted to become a different type of learner in military environments, such as during chemical, biological and radiological training in Norfolk, Virginia years ago. That’s because the stakes are just too high. Since billiards is low stakes, for me at least, I may be destined to continue improvising my grip. The situation is exacerbated by the fact that a variety of different grips and finger bridges are used in many different situations in billiards, such as when the cue ball is too close to the bumper or too far down the table.
The End As Beginning
My mother always said, “You can be and do anything you put your mind to, and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” Well, Doris gave me a wonderful self-efficacy for which I am eternally thankful. It has seen me through successes in corporate, military, academic and entrepreneurial environments. Still, I wondered throughout this project whether my self-efficacy could actually hinder my learning. Sure, as Bandura (1999) points out, self-efficacy plays a central role in the self-regulation of motivation.
Yes, in Bandura’s terms, I imagined myself winning a major billiards tournament some day just as a great skier imagines a “visualized future” of successful run as he awaits the starting bell at the top of the slope. (p.29) Yet, I occasionally worry that my “I can conquer anything” attitude could actually get in the way of learning by limiting my focus or willingness to practice. It didn’t happen in this case, but it’s always worth considering. I do have to conclude at this point, not surprisingly, that I will never be a championship-caliber billiards player. However, I am more thoughtful about learning processes as a result of this project and more aware of my own learning styles and preferences.
References
Bronowksi, J. (1973). The ascent of man: Science, biology, evolution and philosophy. Boston: Little Brown & Co.
Byrne, R. (1998). Byrne’s new standard book of pool and billiards. Fort Washington, PA: Harvest Books.
Clark, K. (1969). Civilisation: A personal view. New York: Harper & Row Publishers.
Confessore, G. & Confessore, S. (1992). Guideposts to self-directed learning: Expert commentary on Essential Concepts. King of Prussia, PA: Organization Design and Development Inc.
Houle, C.O. (1961). The inquiring mind: A study of the adult who continues to learn. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press.
Keene, R. (1988). Chess: The Simon & Schuster Pocket Book. New York: Aladdin Paperbacks.
Koehler, J.H. (1995). The science of pocket billiards. Marinette, WI: Sportology Publications.
Seely-Brown, J. & Duguid, P (1999). Organizational learning and communities-of-practice: Toward a unified view of working, learning and innovation. Organizational Science, 2(1), 40-57.
Thietart, R.A., & Forgues, B. (1995). Chaos theory and organization. Organization Science, 6(1), 19-31.
Tough, A. (1978). Major Learning Efforts: Recent research and future directions. Adult Education, 28(4), 250-263.
Tough, A. (1979). The adult learning project: A fresh approach to theory and practice in adult learning (2nd edition). Toronto: Ontario Institute for Studies in Education.
Wood, R. & Bandura, A. (1989). Social cognitive theory of organizational management. Academy of Management Review, 14 (3), 361-384.