Title, schmitle. You don’t have to be a capital-T teacher to make a great instructor. My tech-industry buddy Dave Treadwell showed me that just a few weeks ago when he got this old dog up and steady wakesurfing after two short sessions.
My buddy Dave and I taking in some Puget Sound sights at the Boeing Flight Museum
I’m almost always considering what makes for great teaching and learning but the topic has especially occupied my mind lately as I’ve been preparing for this week’s first TAGteach World Conference in Verona, Italy. TAGteach applies the principles of positive reinforcement in a particularly elegant way, using discrete signals (like sounds) to “tag” (Teach with Acoustical Guidance) to mark a successful learning moment. The method includes more than its auditory namesake, however, also relying heavily on well-defined intention, clean-sequencing, clutter-free focus, precise timing of feedback, and a humble sense of when to push through challenges and when to take a break. TAGteaching qualifies as both art and science and most need good practice time to do it well. Though I don’t think he’s ever taken any education courses, Dave would make quite a natural at it.
To start, he sold me well on the activity in the first place. Granted, getting me to play in the summertime waters of Lake Washington didn’t demand much haranguing on his part. Still, I knew he had been having a blast since getting his boat and had been enjoying learning the skill himself. Before we got on the water, I was fired up to try.
Wakesurfing boat: Davey likey.
When Dave, his wife Lynn and I headed out on my first day in Seattle, one of those gorgeous Puget Sound clear-sky afternoons with Mount Rainier in the background, the two of them explained and then demonstrated what I’d be shooting for: let the boat pull you up on the board, slowly draw in the tow line so you’re surfing the boat’s wake behind the stern, and eventually—once in the flow of the wake—toss the rope so you’re surfing without direct contact. It sounded easy. Both Dave and Lynn made it look so. I knew it wasn’t.
“Oh yeah. Nice and relaxed, just like this.”
As any good TAGteacher would do through the process of learning, Dave named discrete physical tasks that would lead to my success. Place your heel on the edge of the board to start. Align the right foot with the wedge at the back of the board. As the boat starts to pull, bring your knees to your chest. Stand naturally. Each direction remained clearly achievable, simple words without the extra padding of superfluous information. Surprisingly to Dave and Lynn, I got up on the board the first time we tried. Right on, old man.
Starting to get the hang of it….
That first day, I only succeeded in “surfing” while still holding the tow rope. Any time I tried to ride the wave on my own, I lost the feel and fell into the water. Admittedly, my punishment wasn’t exactly severe: the ‘failure’ here just meant I got a pleasant dip in the lake. Still, I knew I hadn’t had the full thrill I was seeking. Fortunately, I could sense it nearby.
What happened to the sun?
The next day showed up with much chillier temperatures and overcast skies, but Dave and Lynn (and their son Aidan) proved game to head back out with me. Even bundled up with hats and blankets, I didn’t even know if I’d ever get in the water—I was shivering in the boat and my bald head gives away heat like a drunk philanthropist. Dave the Brave, of course, got in straightaway. When Lynn and I marveled at his ability to handle the cold, he offered the words that got me over myself: “It’s not that I don’t feel it. I just choose not to complain about it.” Touché, mon ami. Touché.
Freshly emboldened—or was it appropriately challenged?—I jumped in for a next round of tries. We established quickly that I remembered what we had learned the first day. With each subsequent attempt, Dave gave me careful guidance for the increasingly complex tasks I was facing. He noted to himself what was causing my falls without harping on them or even really mentioning them. Each time, he simply gave me direction for what I needed to do to adjust on my own:
“Make sure to get your left foot a little further toward the board’s front edge before letting go of the rope.”
“Bring yourself a little further toward the center of the wake.”
“Anticipate your forward-and-back adjustments so you make them just a touch before you think you need to.”
With his help, I worked to incorporate each recommended shift and kept moving closer and closer to the elusive ride. And with each iteration, Dave (and Lynn!) would celebrate my effort and results. Through the chill, my spirits stayed high because I could feel success approaching and because I was so enjoying the still-deepening connection with dear friends. When I finally managed a sustained surf on the wake’s wave, we all celebrated boisterously. And I couldn’t wait to get back up and try again.
That joy, that eagerness to continue learning: that’s the legacy of positive reinforcement done well. And it’s precisely the result I shoot for in my own work. We learn quickly. We learn deeply. And both teacher and student come out longing for more.
Let us know when you want to become an official TAGteacher, Dave. You don’t need the title, but you already know most of what it takes to earn it.
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