doesn’t look like I’m anywhere close to making the Olympics.”
“That’s interesting,” he replied. “May I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a specific goal for your training?”
“To be healthy? To fit into my jeans?”
“Ah, yes. But when you go for a run, do you have a target in terms of the pace you’d like to keep?
Or a distance goal? In other words, is there a
specific
aspect of your running you’re trying to
improve?”
“Um, no. I guess not.”
Then he asked what I thought about while I was running.
“Oh, you know, I listen to NPR. Sometimes I think about the things I need to get done that day. I
might plan what to make for dinner.”
Then he verified that I wasn’t keeping track of my runs in any systematic way.
No diary of my
pace, or my distance, or the routes I took, my ending heart rate, or how many intervals I’d sprinted
instead of jogged. Why would I need to do that? There was no variety to my routine. Every run was
like the last.
“I assume you don’t have a coach?”
I laughed.
“Ah,” he purred. “I think I understand. You aren’t improving because you’re
not
doing deliberate
practice.”
This is how experts practice:
First, they set a stretch goal, zeroing in on just one narrow aspect of their overall performance.
Rather than focus on what they already do well, experts strive to improve specific weaknesses. They
intentionally seek out challenges they can’t yet meet. Olympic gold medal swimmer Rowdy Gaines,
for example, said, “At every practice, I would try to beat myself. If my coach gave me ten 100s one
day and asked me to hold 1:15, then the next day when he gave me ten 100s, I’d try to hold 1:14.”
I
Virtuoso violist Roberto Díaz describes “working to find your Achilles’ heel—the specific aspect of
the music that needs problem solving.”
Then, with undivided attention and great effort, experts strive to reach their stretch goal.
Interestingly, many choose to do so while nobody’s watching. Basketball great Kevin Durant has said,
“I probably spend 70 percent of my time by myself, working on my game, just trying to fine-tune every
single piece of my game.” Likewise, the amount of time musicians devote
to practicing alone is a
much better predictor of how quickly they develop than time spent practicing with other musicians.
As soon as possible, experts hungrily seek feedback on how they did. Necessarily, much of that
feedback is negative. This means that experts are more
interested in what they did
wrong
—so they
can fix it—than what they did
right
. The active processing of this feedback is as essential as its
immediacy.
Here’s how Ulrik Christensen learned this lesson. Christensen is a physician-turned-entrepreneur
whose adaptive learning software is designed around the principles of deliberate practice. One of his
early projects was a virtual reality game that teaches doctors the proper handling of urgent, complex
cardiac conditions such as strokes and heart attacks. During one training session,
he found himself
alone with a physician who seemed unable to finish.
“I couldn’t figure it out,” Christensen told me. “This guy wasn’t stupid, but after hours of detailed
feedback on what he’d done wrong, he still wasn’t getting the right answers. Everyone else had gone
home, and there we were, stuck.” Exasperated, Christensen stopped him just before he got the next
round of feedback. “Time-out,” Christensen said. “What you just did,
treating this patient, is there
anything you did just now where you were in doubt? Anything where you weren’t sure it met the new
guidelines?”
The doctor thought a moment and then listed decisions he’d been certain about; then he named a
few choices about which he was less sure. In other words, he
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: