Learning, Part Three: Self-Expectations

I have decided to take a longer tack on the subject of learning. There are so many aspects to consider; I think some extra time spent on “learning theory” will set you up for a higher level of understanding when I actually get to some banjo-specific information. Much of that has to do with our self-expectations; what do we expect of ourselves? What do we think we are capable/incapable of?

When I teach a workshop, I tend to get a bit deep into the weeds of music theory. I realize that many banjoists are just looking for simple tricks to make the banjo more interesting, but in my opinion, the difficult things are much more productive! Since I am always seeking higher ground myself, I intend to push folks beyond their comfort level. My goal is to break down the seemingly difficult into it’s simple parts, and to show that music theory is really not that mysterious. At the same time, I hope that by showing the banjo as worthy of higher-level knowledge (which it most certainly is), folks will raise their expectations for the instrument.

A major aspect of learning difficult concepts is how confidant you are in your ability to learn. For instance, I have noticed that the mere mention of the word scales makes heads spin and eyes glaze over, before even trying to understand! If you believe a concept is “beyond me,” then no amount of justification and/or simplification from a teacher will make a difference; you must believe you are capable of something before you are able to listen. Why else would you bother to come to a workshop if not to better yourself?

Have you noticed how easily kids learn new things? That is unless a well-meaning adult has told them they can’t. I have a new personal saying: “It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you’re not told you can’t.” Many of us have negative dialogs going on in our heads (read my last blog, Can/Can’t!); in most cases, that did not come from within. We are learning machines in childhood (makes sense; we have so much to learn just to survive)!

Somewhere along the line, somebody took the confidant wind of curiosity out of our sails (parents, siblings, church, and/or school). Too bad we’re not more-strongly encouraged to use our childhood gift in a productive manner—instead of being beaten into blind compliance to family/societal norms; lucky are the kids who are allowed to learn.

So, we must come to these things as “enlightened” adults; this corresponds nicely with discovering the banjo as an adult—typically one who has accomplished some things in life and now has the time and resources to do so. To truly learn, you must tap into that long-lost childhood sense of awe and reach for things that you cannot currently do! What better definition of “learning” can there possibly be? Raise your self-expectations!  Say “I know this seems like tough stuff, but I must aim higher than I think I can.”

“Learning” should be seen for what it is; “forward movement.” Identify what you currently know/can-do along with what you don’t know/can’t do, and plot your course accordingly! Certainly, we should capitalize on our strengths; playing things I play well makes me feel good and capable. But we mustn’t shy away from our weaknesses, lest they retain their limiting control over us. That’s why I play difficult music on the stage, even if it makes me feel incapable. I continually strive to push my own boundaries of capability; there is no better pressure cooker than public performance.

I expect great things of myself! I expect great things of my students and clinic attendees! I expect great things of the four-string banjo! How else will we keep us and it moving forward?