Stay hungry … to learn

Aditi Mathur and Ratnesh Mathur

We often go bird watching with a birding group. Whenever somebody spots a bird, many are keen to know which bird it is. The moment the name is established – satisfaction dawns on the birders’ faces. Many of them stop watching the bird further. The newcomers to the group invariably learn that the identity, the name of the bird, is the most important thing. They quickly scribble and make checklists of the birds seen. The number of birds seen soon becomes the ‘glory’ factor.

But some are least bothered about the name. They just look on and on – they see how the bird looks, the kind of wings it has, how it hops or flies, what it is trying to do, how its neck moves, how its call sounds, what kind of tail and beak, the colour of its eyes, what tree or place it has chosen to perch on, and so on. Some of these bird ‘watchers’ have no notebooks; they just fill their stomachs with wonderment.

In learning too, a similar parallel exists. There are many who are keen on naming the learning, defining it, finding the end result, the right answer. A child asked, “What is this, what is it used for?” Pat came the reply, “It’s a sickle; it is used to cut crops.”

So the boy now “knows” the name (sickle) and its usage. Knowledge is gained. Everybody is happy.

But not I. Yes, knowledge is gained but without labour, without any usage of the mind, muscles (abilities), without involvement of the creative juices. Yes, knowledge is gained, but it is limited and superficial. Yes, knowledge is gained, but without emotions, without love (for learning).

I am least bothered about the name. I would ask, “Let’s see how it looks, what shape it is, is it sharp, what is it made of, how it is similar yet different from other things that look like this, what else can we use it for, and so on.

Why are people in a hurry to reach the right place, the destination? Why are people in a hurry to know, to establish, to finish, to conclude? Perhaps we want an end result so that we can feel good about it, feel satisfied that we know, feel complete. So maybe it is just convenience, it is quick and simple and it serves purposes like examination, or image, or social confirmation.

That naming, defining, concluding, “limits learning” is immediately not so obvious to many. For instance, your child exclaims, “Mama, see sugar has gone” when you are stirring the sugar in a glass of water and you mutter, “Yes dear, it has dissolved.”

The child has ‘come to know’ that when you stir sugar in water, it vanishes and this is called “dissolved”. However, the child actually knows nothing about dissolving: why the sugar dissolves, how come we don’t see it after it dissolves, what exactly is the role of stirring, why do other things not dissolve, why does dissolving change the taste of water, how else has dissolving changed the water, can we get the sugar back once it has dissolved, will sugar dissolve in every liquid, how much and how fast sugar dissolved depends on ……. it can go on.

I am not implying that one has to convert every exclamation into an experiment. I am suggesting that let us not satisfy the need to know. Let it hang loose. Let the hunger, to understand, to make sense, be not satisfied. Such a perpetual hungry state of mind will make it naturally motivating for the child to explore and learn.

There is another bigger danger of this naming, defining, concluding business. It not just limits learning, it may limit the learner.

When I think I know, I start thinking that I know a lot. And not only do I ‘stop’ knowing about a particular topic, but also in general, I become lethargic towards learning. I roam about with this ‘cup is too full’ belief. There is then the danger of one becoming too haughty and also of rejecting all subsequent learning opportunities.

I would not want children to think that they know everything. I only want them to know how to know, how to learn, how to discover, validate and apply what they need and know that they still do not know and to keep wanting to learn.

So, as a parent, teacher, and specially learner – this is what I will do:

1) Learning with labour
All through childhood, I was asked to study hard, when I was hardly studying. I was only gobbling up what others had either left for me or cooked for me.

But the word ‘study’ means to “observe something”. It means to explore, to make observations, to make the effort to collect my own
data, to be with a phenomenon. Learning in some ways is about the input and not the output.

So can I make the child put effort into his learning?

Can I get him to construct his own learning and invent his own wheel?

2) Learning via mind muscles
‘Not knowing’ could mean a feeling of flux, of change, of instability, of a confused state of mind. And for reasons unknown to me, the human mind does not want these states. But the paradox is that these states are inevitable – we are anyway in flux all the time, we are changing all the time, learning and knowledge is only growing and getting evolved all the time. Are we, in an attempt to gain control over our learning environment – assuming that it (learning and knowledge) is limited, turning ourselves away from reality?

Let’s take this insight from an infant, who is not bothered by his lack of knowing; by his incompleteness, essential confusions – rather who revels in the very mental mire – with the sole purpose to learn MORE.

Can I let the child stay with the confusion?

3) Learning with creative juices
Funnily, the word ‘creativity’ itself is locked up in its definition. Most people I meet relate creativity with the arts. How many of us talk of walking creatively, of sweeping the floor creatively or solving a social conflict creatively?

A child who is ready to break, maul, rip apart, throw, desecrate, laugh at, scorn at, compare, relate, see the learning and its process in its infinite forms is the one who is floating in the realm of magic and joy of learning.

This requires unconditional acceptance of ourselves and our abilities and at the same time non-acceptance of all learning in itself. I had read a bumper sticker once, which declared, “Thoughts can change directions: that is why our heads are round”.

Can I see each child’s mind as a maverick, bent on creating his or her own pathways?

A story to sum things up
A man went to a monk and requested, “O wise one, please teach me.”
The monk smiled and replied, “But I know nothing.”
The man tried to argue, but the monk kept replying, “I know nothing.”
So the man at last said, “Surely you know how to make tea, you can teach me that.”
(In China, making tea is an art)
The monk replied, “But I do not know how you make tea, and how million others in this world make tea. So my knowing of how to make tea is so minuscule and that it can be considered as naught.”
The man insisted, “But you can at least teach me how you made it yesterday.”
The monk, rising, beckoned the man and said, “How I made tea yesterday, I cannot make the same today. But, come, we can make tea today, together.”

The authors are educators, trainers for teachers and parents. They belong to amable.in – an organisation out to empower learning, learners – teachers and children alike.