Telling Ain't Training

"Telling Ain't Training" opens with a brief and entertaining chapter that sets the tone for the entire book. On the very first page, we find two exercises featuring information presented in a convoluted manner. In one, the authors reprint an email with directions to a party.

The reader is asked to read the directions and answer a few simple questions. Even though the email's language is straightforward, the essential message is maddeningly difficult to decipher. The questions, though simple, are nearly impossible to answer.

A page later, the authors present a map depicting the same ground as the email. Suddenly, the abstract directions become crystal-clear. Now we're asked to cover up the map and answer a few questions. This time, the answers come easily.

The point is that the same information, presented differently, can create a wildly distinct impact on learning and retention. This insight cuts to the heart of "Telling Ain't Training." Too often, what passes for training involves throwing out information and hoping it will stick. But the authors want us to think carefully about how we deliver information, because relatively minor adjustments can lead to huge gains in training success.

The first chapter also introduces readers to the authors' highly interactive style. This isn't a book designed to be read passively. Be prepared to keep a pen or a sharp pencil handy. As in a training session, the more you actively participate, the more you'll retain.

In the next chapter, the authors familiarize us with some common terms. Again, where many books would merely define the terms "training," "instruction," and "education," this one puts the reader on the spot. Do you train your dog, instruct your dog, or educate your dog? This leads us to think carefully about these terms. Clearly, the terms "training," "instruction," and "education" represent a spectrum of increasing complexity.

We train someone to complete a simple task, such as sweeping the floor. We instruct them to do more complex, challenging tasks – like speaking a foreign language. And when we have educated them, they are capable of figuring out how to perform a variety of tasks on their own. Educated people, in a sense, have learned how to learn.

After defining these terms – or rather, having forced us to define these terms – the authors then roll out what they call the trainer's mantra: "learner-centered, performance-based."

By "learner-centered," the authors mean that the trainer must always keep the learner's needs at the front of his or her mind. For the instructor, the easiest method of teaching a new task might be simply to deliver the necessary information, full stop. But instructors looking to really teach and convey information should put the needs of the learner first, by asking: What does the learner need to best understand and assimilate the information? That, for the authors, is the key question for trainers.

The second part of the mantra, "performance-based," reminds trainers of their ultimate goal. When trainers teach a sales force a new technique, is the ultimate goal that they assimilate the technique – or sell more goods? Ultimately, the underlying goal of training is to improve performance.

Having defined their key terms and established underlying goals, the authors then turn to an interesting discussion of how people learn. They start by looking at the "autonomic nervous system" – which most people know as the brain function that controls breathing. But the autonomic nervous system also sorts the sensory information that constantly bombards us, helping to make sense of the world. Quick: one second ago, were you aware of the sensation your blouse or shirt was creating in contact with your body?

Probably not. The autonomic nervous system helps keep our attention focused on what's important. In the past, it helped us focus on the lion rushing toward us, so we weren't distracted by the pretty flower in our path. It serves a similar function now when we drive – the lorry swerving into our lane automatically takes precedence over even the most interesting podcast.

So what does that have to do with training? Well, attention is automatically controlled, just as breathing is. You can grab control of either of them for a time, but eventually they revert to the autonomic system. So, when you're addressing a class of learners, you're really appealing to their autonomic systems – and your challenge is to make the material seem vital to their needs. If you don't, the learner will eventually tune you out. They'll cease to perceive what you're saying, and learning will crash to a halt.

Say you manage to hold the attention of their autonomic nervous systems. Congratulations – you've managed to insert your information into their short-term memories. That's the good news. The bad news is that short-term memories vanish within fifteen seconds! The key is to gain entry into long-term memory – a tricky task, the authors inform us, because that quirky old autonomic nervous system typically controls that gate.

The authors offer two tips for sneaking through that barrier. The first one is obvious, and echoes the author's "learner-centered" mantra: Make the material as relevant as possible to the learner. The second is to break information down into discrete, well-organized chunks. For example, to teach young children the cardinal points of the compass requires them to remember four bits of information: north, south, east, and west. But the acronym "NEWS," made from the first letter of each cardinal point, gives them just one item to store. When they recall it, they can work out the four cardinal points.

This discussion may lead us to conclude that teaching is an impossibly complicated task, but don't despair. As the authors point out, human beings are incredibly efficient learners – especially compared to other species. Ever tried to teach a frog to drive a forklift? Or to get a dog to program a computer?

In the next chapter, the authors dig deeper into the topic of just how humans process information. They open with three funny dialogs depicting informal training sessions gone sour. In one, a grandma tries to teach her grandson to bake a cherry pie, a delicacy she's been making for 60 years. In this case, we have a skilled, experienced cook who goes about her craft intuitively, without recourse to cookery books; and an untrained novice who barely knows flour from butter. The interaction ends badly, with both parties frustrated. What happened? When asked for her recipe, Granny merely said, "You need flour, some sugar, eggs, and milk." In her mind, she visualized herself making a piecrust as she had done so many times before. She thought she had given a complete account of the process to her grandson. For him, the statement raised a series of questions. How much flour, sugar, eggs, and milk? Granny didn't know; she made piecrust with measuring cups. The grandson wanted to know what to do with the ingredients once they were assembled. Wasn't that obvious, responded Granny?

The problem, the authors note, is that experts and novices process information differently. Experts can quickly integrate details into a broad context; novices fixate on those details, bewildered as to how they fit together. And the more expertise one gains, the more effort it takes to think like a novice. Hence Granny's lame attempt to pass on her recipe.

To further their point, the authors distinguish between declarative knowledge and procedural knowledge. Declarative knowledge refers to our ability to recite names and facts. Procedural knowledge means the ability to do things, to perform tasks. We typically gain procedural knowledge by watching experts, and then imitating them. And here's the catch for experts and novices: When experts try to teach a task, they often forget that they themselves learned it procedurally, and so they try to explain it declaratively.

In other words, Granny would have done much better to show her grandson how to make a pie than try to explain it to him.

In the next chapter, the authors get down to the nitty-gritty of how to conduct effective training sessions. Here they lay out what they call the four adult-learning principles: readiness, experience, autonomy, and action.

The first principle, "readiness," refers to the need to make sure the learners are ready to receive your message. No matter how well you've constructed your presentation, it will fall on deaf ears if you don't manage to grab the group's attention. The key is to answer the question, "What's in it for me?" straightaway. Grab their attention by showing them that your presentation offers them something: the ability to solve a problem, avoid a problem, seize an opportunity, or gain status or growth.

The next principle is "respect experience." In short, adults have a vast array of experiences, unlike children, and these experiences need to be respected and even used by instructors. For example, you don't want to naively confront a seasoned sales team without first acknowledging their experience. Trainers who do so risk coming off as just another waste of time conjured up by inept managers – and laughed off the podium. The trick is to open by soliciting "war stories" from the learners, and then build on these experiences to get your message across.

The third principle is "autonomy." Young children need plenty of direction in learning environments. Adults, by contrast, will quickly come to feel disempowered and bored by instruction that treats them like, well, children.

That means constructing training sessions that give learners the power to take initiative and make decisions. That means building in lots of opportunities for participation in training sessions. The more learners contribute, the more they'll feel they "own the learning" and commit to making it useful.

The fourth and final principle is "action." The authors point out that we've all been to wonderful training sessions whose lessons we've never used. A classic example is diet programs. Despite exceptionally successful marketing, few diet programs actually stick. According to the authors, just ten percent of people who go on a diet program manage to maintain their weight loss a year later. To ensure buy-in from the learners, their attention must be focused on the immediate application of what they are supposed to learn. And to make the learning really stick, they'll need post-training support to help them sustain the application.

In the next chapter, the authors get to the heart of the book's message. Building on previous chapters, they lay out their five-step model for creating "terrific training sessions." The first step is "rationale" – learners need to know precisely what claim the trainer has on their time. They need to know where you're planning to take them, and precisely why they should want to get there.

Next comes "performance objective." This refers to the verifiable skill or knowledge that the learner will take away from the training. "On completion of the course, I will be able to..." Learners must be able to complete that sentence, or their attention will eventually drift.

The third step is "activities." The training must involve active participation, and include activities that lead directly to the performance objective. The activities are key to the success of the training. If they are dull, learning stops. They should stimulate the learners to contribute their own experiences, imagination, and judgment. They should be challenging enough to sustain interest – but not so challenging as to make the learners feel stupid.

Next is evaluation. Training is futile without a check to make sure objectives have been met. It's important to avoid associations with "tests" or "exams," which can create the kind of stress that impedes learning. Evaluations can be seen as an extension of "activities," providing learners with a fun, non-threatening way to show they have mastered the material.

The fifth and final step is "feedback." Actually, feedback should be a continual process throughout the training. All the way along, teachers should be checking in with the learners, letting them know when they've gotten things right, and correcting them when they go astray. And corrective feedback should always be positive and encouraging.

In the next chapter, the authors deal with strategies for overcoming the difficulties faced by learners. They begin by explaining the concept of "meta-cognition" – what they call the higher-level control processes that determine our ability to learn. People develop skill at using these processes at an early age; and those who do not master them when they're young can become problem learners.

For example, one of the meta-cognitive skills is "selecting." A good learner can intuitively identify and focus on the most important bits of new material to be learned, separating wheat from chaff. Someone less adept at this meta-cognitive skill, faced with the same material, will find himself overwhelmed by the flood of information, all of which seems equally important.

For the instructor, the ultimate challenge is in knowing how to deal with the latter – that is, people with gaps in their meta-cognition. And the authors offer a variety of strategies for doing so. For example, for the learner who has trouble selecting, the authors suggest "clustering" – that is, arranging information in ways that emphasize the most important elements.

Having skillfully set up their framework, the authors devote a short final section to putting their ideas into practice. Training managers will find plenty of concrete examples that flesh out the authors' five-step method for creating effective training sessions. But don't expect the authors to spell everything out for you. Like a good training session, and like the rest of the book, the final section requires plenty of audience interaction – and rewards our efforts to participate.

"Telling Ain't Training" by Harold D Stolovitch and Erica J Keeps is published in paperback by ASTD Press.

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