Effortful Study: It Only Takes a Decade
"[E]xperts-in-training keep the lid of their mind's box open all the time, so that they can inspect, criticize and augment its contents and thereby approach the standard set by leaders in their fields."
This is from a
recent article in
Scientific American that talks about the development of expertise. The example author Philip E. Ross chooses is chess, but apparently it holds true for all fields: practice, practice, practice really is what gets you to Carnegie Hall, not "genius."
Scientists of the mind like to look at chess players to understand how brains work. One thing that interests them is how grandmasters (sorry for the sexist term: there are female grandmasters as well) can figure out what move to make in seconds. They do this much too quickly to actually be analyzing things. One explanation for this is memory--grandmasters are able to remember information in much bigger and more complex clusters than novices can. They do this by putting hierarchies of information into "chunks," mental file folders that are precisely labeled and ordered, rather than the flurry of unbound papers that flies in the psychic air around novices. There are competing theories about how this works, but for the most part it's about building patterns of memory in the mind that allow for efficient sorting. And that brings us to the really interesting bit:
The one thing that all expertise theorists agree on is that it takes enormous effort to build these structures in the mind. Simon coined a psychological law of his own, the 10-year rule, which states that it takes approximately a decade of heavy labor to master any field.
Ross introduces the notion of "effortful study" as the single thing that distinguishes experts from everybody else. Striving for improvement consistently over a long period of time creates mastery. Motivation, the constant desire to look critically at your performance and modify it based on experience, is most important.
I found the part about memory interesting, thinking of the story of
Ihara Saikaku, who is supposed to have composed over 20,000
hokku in a single 24-hour session. I don't believe he managed quite so many, but I'll accept that he composed a lot. Poets who wrote linked verse had to be able to improvise quickly. There are lots of complicated rules in linked verse, and huge amounts of information to remember. I wonder if it's the case the really good ones were similar to the modern chess grandmasters Ross is talking about--even though they were working with new situations every time, in fact, they did it all from memory.
I also found the article very encouraging as we move into the beginning of the new academic year. It's good evidence for students that working hard has its rewards. Even though the "ten-year rule" might seem to be daunting, in a way it's reassuring. It takes time to get good at anything. But if you take the time, you
will get good at it. Research proves it.
What a relief.
Bad Characters
The blog
Hanzi Smatter is dedicated to debunking what it calls "the misuse of Chinese characters in Western culture."
The most recent post (as of my post today) brings up the myth that "the Chinese word for crisis means danger and opportunity," which, it notes, came up in the context of The Daily Show. It also does an energetic job of exposing the silliness of certain tattoos.
While, given its narrow focus, it's not as robust as some other good debunking sites I have become quite fond of, like
Quackwatch, the
New England Skeptical Society, and
James Randi's site, it does perform a useful, if small, public service.
Worth a look.
Shooting Stars
Keeping with the celestial theme.
This weekend the Perseid meteor shower is at its height. It's going to be tricky this year, because the moon will spoil most of the fun. But it's worth a look, if you happen to be in a place where stargazing is good. NASA recommends that you try between 8:30 and 10:00 pm. Details are at their site
here.
This haiku is from www.haikuworld.org.
Almost dawn--
a bright meteor flashes
into a summer sea
Zhanna P. Rader
If you're somewhere where you can watch the Perseids over the sea, I envy you.
Summer Moon
Last night the moon was rising in the trees behind my house. There are too many leaves out there to see it distinctly, but even that was nice. The light was all milky, refracted by the hundreds of separate, slightly glossy surfaces. On nights like last night, the moonlight looks very ancient and distant, even though it's coming in from where astronomers would tell us is very close and recent. And it gets very gold and warm from the haze in the humid summer sky.
In haiku the moon is a seasonal word for autumn, unless you specify another one.
Oborozuki 朧月, the misty moon, is in spring; the summer moon,
natsu no tsuki, is something different altogether. Buson has some summer moon
hokku, but this is the one I thought of last night:
coolness!
growing distant from the bell
the sound of the bell
suzushisa ya
kane o hanaruru
kane no otoA
hokku without a moon at all. I thought of it because I was reminded of
fûrin 風鈴, little bells you hang up from the eaves in the summer so that the tinkly sound can make you feel cool. I don't have a
fûrin, and even if I did it wouldn't help because there is no wind. Just the sound of insects in the garden, buzzing in quiet conversations. Which in itself is pleasant.
The bell in Buson's poem isn't a
fûrin; it's a
kane 鐘, something bigger and more dark and powerful, like one you'd hear at a temple. Imagine a rich, deep sound that seems hang motionless in the air, not quite leaving the place where it started. If a
fûrin feels cool, the ringing coming off Buson's bell in this
hokku must be almost cold: a deep, refreshing pool of sound to float in.
Another summer
hokku--this one comes from Kyorai, Bashô's disciple.
the very rocks and trees
blazing to the sight--
heat
ishi mo ki mo
manako ni hikaru
atsusa kanaIf Kyorai were here, he'd have mentioned pavements and windshields too, I'm sure.
Where did that cool moon go?
Calm Gray Haiku
Today was an unsually quiet day. It's still hot, but it hasn't quite been sunny all day--there's been a film of dinginess over the sky, like it's been covered in a fine dust.
Here are two haiku for a day like this. Both come from
Asahi:
Watching the rain
wondering
for how long?
Lorne Henry
The note mentions that Mr. Henry's in Australia, and his is a winter poem. But it's been so dry here also that I thought I'd cite it. It seems to want to rain late every afternoon, but seldom quite gets up enough nerve. The other night it rained for a while, and I did think, for how long? And it finished quickly. Not enough to soothe the hydrangea--it's still bent over in despair.
I liked this one too, being a fan of the moon. It's by someone in Japan. It's fabulous, isn't it?
How can I
tell them I just
discovered the moon?
Patrick Sweeney
