ERIC ON FIRE

Eric was alone.  That was normal, he always felt alone, alone, and vulnerable.  This time he was lying on his bed, looking at the ceiling in the falling light. Clean, groomed, and freshly shampoo’d.

(“Shampoo” he thought,”What a silly name for hair-wash stuff.”  He said it out loud “Sham poo, pretend poo”. Somebody had told him that the soldiers had brought that stuff back from India after the war, as well as ‘pyjamas’.  He didn’t think they had wars in India because that was where the peace religions came from, didn’t they?  “Anyway”, he thought “that explains everything” – but he didn’t quite know what he meant by that either.)

His room was even more tidy than usual.  Everything was in its right place, and he knew where the right place for everything was.  If it wasn’t in its right place it would be in the wrong place, and then it would be lost.  “Lost” would be out of his control, 'and that’s where the fear kicks in'.

Washed in the shower, scrubbed clean like new, his ‘good’ shoes hung from the brass window strut, almost dry.

Hours of thinking, planning ahead – got to have clean undies, best T-shirt, fresh off the ‘line, almost no wrinkles. His treasured collection of old war comics carefully packed into a carton, tied with a bit of twine, and named with his best printing:   ERICS.

He’d even remembered to cut and scrub his finger nails, and had a bunch of fresh mint from behind the shed – ready to rub over his hands.  Petrol is good for cleaning grease, but it stinks later, and somebody said that it can go right into your skin and make cancer.

The tractor shed was locked – the boss locked it after feeding the dogs each night.  Townie kids, hoons, had come out and stolen fuel, and used it to do flame-outs down at the old concrete road-bridge.  He and the boss had seen the burn-out marks when they took the heifers to the grazing block across the river.  Even the stock were upset by that stink.

He didn’t have his own key, hadn’t worked here long enough.  Not that this boss was ever likely to let him have one, he didn’t seem to trust Eric to do anything, and didn’t seem to like him either.

He picked on Eric, and made him look stupid when they were at the sales with other farmers, and even at home in front of his wife and son. He kept on telling everybody how dumb and stupid Eric was, and that if he had one more brain it would be lonely!  Eric just smiled when everybody laughed, because he didn’t get the joke.

It had been bad right from the beginning.  Although the boss had known that Eric hated school and was a bit of a ‘behaviour problem’ (well, he had to do something while at school, so he used to have fun, didn’t he – and that always meant that he was in trouble), when he found out that Eric couldn’t read or write he called Eric a “dumb dyslexic”, and made Eric learn how to write his own name, in capital letters.  It worked, but Eric hated him for it ‘cause it was so hard, and anyway he didn’t even know what that dumb dik, diks, however you say it word meant. What he did like was that this was a place to live, they fed him, and he had something to do – which was way better than living in the Children’s Home.

It had been a bit bad before, but it all got worse that day when he got things wrong.  The boss’s ‘very sophisticated’ wife and her spoilt kid were getting ready to take the ute and his motor-cross bike to the ‘Nationals’, and the boss had told Eric to fuel the ute up. He did, then put it away, ready for them the next morning. Somehow, when the ute broke down the next day, in the middle of no-where, they all blamed Eric.  Spoilt son never got to the Nationals, said that there was petrol in the diesel, and the boss wouldn’t even let him drive the ute any more.

The bit about the hay paddock didn’t help either. Again they all said it was his fault, but like with the ute, all he did was what the boss had told him.  “Get on the quad. Go up the race past the barn. Don’t open the gate by the cattle-stop, open the next one”. That was all cool, but when the boss brought the cows down for milking the next morning shit, fur and blood were flying. “The fricken cows were in the hay paddock all night! Fifteen acres of standing hay gone! I told you ‘don’t open the gate by the cattle-stop’ and whadda ya do, you put all the flaming cows into the crop!”

So now even the quad was out of bounds, and like the dog, he had to walk everywhere.

If he had parents he would get them to come and get him, but he didn’t even have that.  He knew there had to be a dad out there somewhere, probably big and strong with tats and a Harley, who could deal with this boss, but the social worker had said that mum never let on who it was.  But she was gone now too.  She was in the wrong place at the wrong time after a party when he was just two.  Except for some leery photos he hardly even knew what she’d looked like.

In the dark he’d seen the car-lights as the boss, spoilt brat kid and poncy wife came home from school prize-giving.  “Praise-giving” they called it. The boss had been on and on about taking the trailor to bring home all the trophies  “Winner of this”, “Best at that”, “Highest achievement in recorded history”, “Most goals scored ever”, “Most promising student”, “Mr Popular 2012”.  Eric reckoned the trailor was really needed to carry their big heads and bloated egos.

She was so proud of her ‘little prince’, and made a real point of letting Eric know that they were a family of social standing, of ‘class’. He understood her message, sort of, but didn’t know what she meant when she talked about being so ‘sophisticated’. In the end he found a dictionary in the town library, and asked the librarian to look it up.  She said there were lots of meanings, but he liked the one that said “An elaborate sham, to make false by worldly means”. After that he always agreed with the boss’s wife, and told her that she really was, very sophisticated.

It was now late and the lights in the main house finally went out. He intended to lie there and wait, even sleep a bit before going out, but his body, as if it had a mind of its own, wouldn’t wait.

He had imagined, after all his planning and rehearsing, that he would be calm, cool, collected, like some angry dude on the TV, but a pulsing nervous excitement ran through him like a flooded river.

Moving more quickly than he intended he crept across the back porch, down past the washing line, to the outhouse, the “long-drop of your very own – not even the dog would go there to dump” as the boss had told him on his first day.  That suited Eric just fine, and gave him a secret hiding place, a place where no one else would ever look.  He kept his dirty magazines there, and the orange twenty litre fuel can was safely stashed there too, hidden under the box-lid, undiscovered for over a month.

He could hear the boy racers – the ones the boss had blamed for stealing the can – doing their drags out on the main road.  Later they would be down at the bridge doing flame-outs, and maybe even torching a car. He reckoned they would get the blame for everything tonight – that’s why he chose Saturday.

Holding his breath he lifted the lid and pulled the full can from beside the stinking hole. It was heavy, needing both hands, and he forgot to catch the lid before it crashed back down on his toe - braced against the edge of the box. It made no sound, but his toe screamed in sharp agony.

Bumping the heavy container against his legs he made his way to the back of his cottage, hid the fuel under an old sack and moved inside. His pulse and his pain made listening impossible, but no lights came on in the main house to show that he had been heard. He didn’t feel scared or nervous, he didn’t really feel anything, but his pulse stayed at peak revs.

The grass, long and slippery from the wet weather, allowed him to half carry, half drag the can over to, then around the bosses house.  With the cap off, slurping fuel into the grass he managed the task easily, and as far as he could tell, quietly, eventually leaving a trail of fuel right around the house where the sleeping family lay.

In his planning he knew it would be stupid to use his own lighter, so he had a box of matches, ready, in one of his pockets, if, he  could  just  find  them. Fumbling in the dark, hands sticky with fuel and nervous sweat, he couldn’t push them far enough into his pocket to locate the matches. With his tension rising with his pulse racing Eric ran for the cottage.

‘Cigarette lighter, kitchen bench’ – he could see it clearly in his mind’s eye.  ‘No lights’ he warned himself, and ran his hands along the bench scattering knives, forks and spoons, his mess from last week.  He recognised the lighter as it shot from his grip, itself now slippery with sweat and fuel, off the edge of the bench.

At school he had been known for his lightening reactions. This time his reactions didn’t let him down as he instinctively knew where to intercept the lighter in mid-flight. The problem was rather in the hard edge of the stainless bench-top where it met the significantly softer edge of his rapidly descending right eyebrow.

Streaming blood, dazed, but locked into an action-plan Eric stumbled back out the door, the orange can indicating where the combustable fluid lay soaking in the grass.  Several attempts, thumb slipping before gripping, finally a flame.  He remembered the fuel on his clothes and relied on his lightning reactions to get away from the flames before he too became part of the planned outcome.

Bending quickly, arm and lighter extended to the fuel, he made the connection and leaped away with the agility of a startled cat.

His mind changed gear into an agonising slow-motion. He was aware of his body slowly uncoiling as he sprang up, away, to his left in the darkness. Eric saw the glow of the lighter falling, still burning, into the pool of fluid, then a blinding flash beginning from a tiny spark in the centre of his vision, exploding outwards to total white, then nothing. A semi-recognition of an impact, hard meeting hard.

              …………………………………………………………………………….

The ‘hoon’ had been dispatched to get more diesel. They had already used up what they had, and needed more for a worthwhile night. Town is too far away, so the local farmer’s shed would be worth a stealthy visit. Car quietly parked down the road, walk the last few hundred metres, one five litre jerry-can of diesel coming up.

The night was pitch-black so the nose led the way.  Yep, he could smell diesel, there would be a tank near the tractor shed.  A house on the right, another building off to the left in the darkness – and he froze.  Right beside him in the dark, a person, crouching, a spark, a small flame, then an eruption of action coming straight at him, a blinding light, a searing pain, and, nothing.

          ………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Eric was aware that it was the boss’s voice.  It was laughing, it seemed happy, and that somehow was wrong, not as it should be. He heard it again, it was speaking, laughing, but there was nothing to see.  He tried to move and realised that he was restrained, flat on his back, but somehow comfortable.

“So you’re still alive are you, you master of the head-butte, you midnight hero”.  The voice faded as Eric’s brain closed down again.

              ……………………………………………………………………………………….

The story that Eric eventually heard (and he wasn’t into arguing) was that the boss had been woken by the familiar smell of diesel. Peering into the darkness from the kitchen window he had seen a figure, a spark, and then heard the horrible crack as two human cranium met with considerable impact. Under torchlight he discovered Eric, unconscious, lying across the similarly unconscious body of ‘the hoon’.

The hoon had woken shortly after the police arrived, but had no memory at all of what had happened, and no idea even where he was.  The evidence however spoke fairly clearly for itself, as he was well known from his previous interactions with the law, and he was thus duly removed.

Eric’s hospital stay “under observation” for three days was a total buzz, with the staff treating him according to his ‘hero’ status. The boss had asked for “no news reporters please”, and kept the whole affair at a very low profile.

In spite of what he knew about it all, a sense of legitimacy developed in Eric after that.  The boss and family treated him with grateful respect – they recognised that they owed their lives to his courage and action – and now included him as one of the family – an experience that he had never ever had, anywhere.

“How dumb” the boss would muse, “But I suppose there are a lot of townies who wouldn’t know that it is just about impossible to light diesel with a match.  Petrol is another thing, but diesel… lucky for us though.  What do you reckon eh Eric mate?”

Eric just grinned – he was no longer alone.  He just grinned.

THE INQUEST

THE INQUEST

The inquest had gone on for hours, and the class-teacher was still giving her evidence. Her lawyer, adamant that she was not going to carry the blame had rehearsed her evidence several times before coming to Court.

“My client Sir, is a highly trained professional.  She is a mature, experienced classroom leader, and has a string of successful students emerging from her care, year after year.

“As is usual, on this occasion her communication was extremely clear, and the children – for the most part – satisfactorily cooperative.  As you would well know Sir, there are always one or two in a classroom who seem to have a need to be defiant – or at least uncooperative.”

“Mmmm.  Yes Mr Andrews” the Judge replied, “I would like your client to give me a full description, in her own words, of what happened on that, as I understand it, somewhat hot, Tuesday afternoon.

“Well Sir, yes it was a hot day and my group’s allocated swim time was 1.30 pm.  My instructions to the students – all around 10 years of age – were the same as on each such occasion.  Children respond well to clarity and consistency.”

“And those instructions Mrs Barrows?”

“Mrs Barrows, kindly tell the Judge exactly what you said to the children.  The actual words you used.”

     “I said – It is time for our swim now.

              Get your togs and towel.

              Line up in two lines at the door.

              Now we will walk, quietly, in line, to the pool.”

“And what happened then”?

     “They did exactly as I instructed, and walked quietly in two lines to the pool”

“And then?”

     “Then they all changed into their gear, and as they emerged from the changing sheds they entered the pool.”

          “I see.  And your next instruction?”

     “It is usual to let them have a few minutes free play – for the girls to warm up, and for the boys to burn off their excess energy.

     So I gathered them all to the side of the pool and let them know that they had five minutes ‘free play’ before the actual instructional session.”

“Mrs Barrows, tell the Court what, and why, you said at that stage.”

     “Well, as is usually the case in every classroom in this country, I have two or three pupils – usually boys – who are typically boisterous, frequently uncooperative, and even overtly disobedient.  They don’t – or won’t – listen to, or comply with the rules.”

          “The rules?”

     “Yes Sir.  We have four basic school rules when in the pool.  No ducking.  No splashing.  No bombing, and No diving.”

          “And you reminded the class of this?”

     “Yes, very specifically – and even deliberately looking at each of these probable offenders as I reminded them of those four rules.”

“So all of the children heard those rules, and you took particular effort to ensure that the more unruly of the group were specifically addressed?”

     “Yes”

“So what did you observe to happen then?”

     “Well, thirty three of my thirty six students were specifically cooperative – as I would expect them to be.  They played, and enjoyed being in the pool.”

“And the other three?”

     “Within moments I noticed one was splashing another in the face – who responded by jumping on top of, and ducking the first.  The third boy saw this, climbed out of the pool, leapt off the side, and bombed the other two.  The exact scenario the rules are designed to avoid.”

“So what was your response to this behaviour?”

     “I called all three to the side and checked that they had heard the rules.  I asked each in turn, and on request they each repeated the rules to me – as I knew they could.

     So having checked that they had heard, knew, and remembered the rules, I checked that they were aware of their own actions – their own behaviour.  I asked the first to tell me why I had called him to the side of the pool, and he said ‘Because I was splashing’.  When I checked with the second he acknowledged that it was because he was ducking the other boy, and the third volunteered that it was because he bombed the other two.”

“So Sir, it is evident that my client communicated very clearly and effectively with the pupils concerned.  She gave clear spoken instruction.  She checked that they had heard, understood and remembered the rules, and she even checked that they were aware of their own actions.

I put it to you that she conducted herself in a fully professional manner, and that she is without fault, or to blame in this situation.

The three boys in question have a history of repetitive behaviour and discipline difficulty and may be regarded as potentially ODD – that is, Oppositional Defiance Disorder.  Psychologists tell me that we don’t really understand this condition Sir, but there are some boys who just seem to need to defy directions, rules and guidelines.  As a Judge I am sure you will be aware of this.

          “I see. 

At this stage Mr Andrews I would like to hear from the School Principal.”

“Yes Sir.  Mr Jacobs, as Principal, please advise the Court of your involvement on that day.”

     “As Principal I accept ultimate responsibility for discipline in my school.

My first involvement on that day was when I saw the three lads in wet swimming gear walking across the quadrangle towards my office.  I have to add at this point that this was not the first time the three have had to report to me, and my immediate reaction was – ‘When will these three lads learn?’

As is our agreed procedure with staff, I immediately checked to see if the lads knew, and understood why they had been sent to me – had they heard, understood and remembered the instruction, and were they aware of their own offenses.”

          “And your conclusion?”

     “The same as that of my staff member.  Thirty-three members of the class heard the instruction and cooperated – and this clearly signals to me that there is no lack, or difficulty, in the teacher’s communication style.  These same three boys are repeat offenders.  We have given them many chances and at some stage we have to decide that it is the end of the road.”

“Thank you.  We have yet to hear from the School Psychologist.

Mr Beckham, you have heard the accounts from the class-teacher and the Principal. Please, your perspective on this situation.”

     “Sir, it is a common scenario in classes and school systems, not only in this country, but across the globe.

We have what is commonly referred to in layman’s terms as the ‘Naughty Boy Syndrome’.  Mostly, but not exclusively, these are boys who seem to need to do exactly what they have just been told not to do – commonly within moments, or minutes of being told.

Parents and teachers find this so frustrating, and it often leads to heavy-handed discipline, punishment, as adults desperately try to find ways to get the cooperation of the child.

Unfortunately there are always a few who can’t be reached, they tend to become surly and resentful, and often end up living socially marginal lives, in and out of trouble – or even prison.”

          “Is there no hope?”

     “Many approaches and therapies have been tried, but with marginal success – ranging from Behaviour Modification to Boot Camp, and anything between, and our prisons are now over full.

     However there is however another school of thought with a different and interesting emphasis.  Let me approach this in a reverse sequence.

The literacy rate in our prisons is extremely low.  We know that our prisons are disproportionately filled with males – many of them school failures both academically and behaviourally.  We also observe that the rate of left handedness in our prisons is greater than in the general population. While left-handedness seems to be between 5 and 10 percent in the general population, some claim that it is as much as 50 percent in the prison population.”

          “Are you suggesting that there is some connection between male left-handedness, school achievement and personal behaviour Mr Beckham?  It seems a little remote, please explain.”

“My explanation Sir is tentative, and in crude terms only.

Right-sided, that is right-handed, right-footed, and right-eyed people tend to use their opposite side brain, and do most of their conscious thinking in their left frontal brain area.  This would appear to include about 85 percent of the population.

The other 15 percent may be left-sided, or perhaps – and more to the point – a mixture of left and right sidedness.  This apparently causes them to do their predominant conscious thinking in their right brain.  The suggestion Sir, is that we don’t all think in the same manner, that this is not a matter of choice, and that very few people are aware of how they think at all.

The significance apparently lies in the tendency of right-sided, left-brained people to process information using language as a thinking tool.  They think in words, just as I am talking to you right now.

By chance these people find school to be a user-friendly place, as our education system uses language as its basic teaching system.  Our teachers are required to teach in language, meaning that the pupils need to learn via language, and what they have learned is assessed via language – written exams.  This suits the majority well, and is for them a highly successful system.”

     “And the others?  What of this ‘right brain style?”

“Those others, the other 15 percent Sir, may well be the ones who struggle with our education system, and even with our rules system.

The right-brain style Sir, tends to be expressly pictorial.  These people apparently do most of their thinking in pictures, and in their number we tend to find architects, engineers, artists, musicians and hands-on, practical workers – farmers, builders, plumbers, electricians, drivers.  The suggestion Sir is that their picture-thinking style has advantages in these sorts of activities, but that it is a real disadvantage in our language-based school system, and it is a real struggle for them to do well.”

     “This is all very interesting and may perchance be valid Mr Beckham, but I cannot yet see how it is related to the incident with the three boys that we are dealing with in this Court today.”

“As I understand it, it is that tendency to think in pictures Sir.

Let me explain as it was explained to me.

If I ask you to think of a tennis racket, it is almost inevitable that you will see a picture a tennis racket in your head.”

     “Yes, I see my own old Spalding.”

“If I mention the words ‘Teddy Bear’, it is similarly the case that you will picture some personal version of such a soft toy.  However, if I tell you ‘Do not think of a step-ladder’, what happens?”

          “I immediately picture a step-ladder, then remove it promptly from my mind so as to cooperate with your instruction.”

“But you do initially think of a step-ladder.”

          “Yes.”

“Now Sir, don’t think of, or even consider the Eifel Tower”.

          “I did because you named it.”

“Yes, precisely.

Now consider the picture in a child’s mind when a parent says “Don’t spill your drink.”

          “I think I follow the pattern. The words created the picture….”

“Yes Sir.”

          “… and the picture, so planted in the brain, acts hypnotically so as to induce the person – in this case our three lads – to behave in the very way they have been instructed not to.”

“Yes.  The other pupils, who think mainly in language – that is, in words – probably do have much the same picture in their minds, but for them, the word message predominates, and they comply with the words, and are seen to be cooperative.

The picture thinkers are less able to focus on the words and their consequential behaviour is more likely to follow the picture that the words left in their pictorial brain.  For them the command “No diving” generates the urge to dive, and they are as confused as the rest of us as to their own behaviour.”

          “And the solution to the problem would thus rest with ….?

“The adult Sir.  The professional.  We can’t change the way the child thinks – this is their natural process.  But we can educate our adults.  If this explanation is indeed valid, we need to help teachers, parents – and perhaps Social Workers and Counsellors – and with due respect Sir, our Judges, to understand that their own language – by stating what is not allowed – causes some people to act in certain ways, and to appear disobedient, oppositional, non-compliant, naughty – to be seen as being behaviour problem children.”

          “A case of blaming the victim?”

     “My colleague who explained this to me suggested that these children are like diesel engines – perfectly good motors, until we put petrol in their tanks.”

Laughton King

1.1.13

AN EXPERIMENT IN UNLEARNING

AN EXPERIMENT IN UNLEARNING

Although names and dates have been altered to protect the innocent, the following story is not true – but the point it is making is valid, and is well demonstrated.

Experimental Psychology 201.

Setting – Animal Behaviour Laboratory.

Subject Matter – Rats, and Humans.

Method:

Place one rat, and one University student (of roughly equal intelligence)in separate cages, and starve for three days.

Construct an access way leading to five separate, parallel, dead-end passages.  The passages are numbered 1 to 5.

Place a container holding cheese at the far end of passage-way 4.(p4)

Procedure. Phase One.

1.  Release the rat into the access way.

Observed Result: The rat smells cheese, enters the access-way, goes to Passage-way 1 (P1), and enters looking for the cheese.  Failing to find cheese in P1, the rat exits, then goes to P2, P3, then finally at the end of P4 the rat locates the cheese, nibbles contentedly and consumes the cheese.  Happy rat!

2. Repeat the exercise, starving the rat for three days then releasing the rat to search for the cheese.

Observed Result: The rat searches, repeating exactly the same behaviour as in the first trial.

3. Repeat the exercise exactly as before.

Observed Result: The rat presents exactly the same behaviour as in the previous trials – although a little more quickly.

4. Repeat the exercise yet again.

Observed Result: Released rat momentarily hesitates at the entrance of P1, P2, P3, then quickly explores P4, finding the predictable reward. Very smug and happy rat!

Interpretation:

Rat demonstrates an effective, fast learning style, needing only four exposures to determine and predict a pattern of events.  Rat could be seen to have a high, measurable level of intelligence.

5. Repeat the whole exercise, but this time move the cheese from the end of P4 to the end of P5.

Observed Result: Released rat enters the access way, smells the cheese, and goes straight to P4, expecting to find the cheese. Failing to find cheese the rat quickly exits P4, and reverts to its original, established routine, exploring P1, P2, P3, P4, before finally locating the cheese at the end of P5.  Happy rat.

Procedure. Phase Two

1. Release starved human (variety ‘student’) into the access way.

Observed Result: Student smells the cheese (thinks ‘pie’), enters P1 to find food. Failing to locate any tasty morsel, student exits P1 and sequentially explores P2, P3, and P4 before finally locating the food at the end of P4.  Student hogs into the food (making a complete pig of himself, and looking for beer to wash it down).

2. Repeat the procedure as with the rat, and student is observed to similarly repeat his behaviour, as per the rat.

3. Repeat the procedure again, and student is observed to go straight to P4, successfully locate the food, scoff it down looking very pleased with himself.

Tentative Observation; does this faster learning suggest to us that the student is marginally more intelligent than the rat?

4. Repeat the entire exercise, but this time shift the cheese from P4 to the end of P5.

1.  Observed Result: Released student goes straight to P4 expecting to find food. Student fails to find food, looks confused, hesitates, then exits P4 to check the number ‘P4’ on the entrance.  Ascertaining that he is in the right place, student re-enters P4 to again look for the food.  Failing yet again to find food student mutters to himself, goes back to the access-way, counts aloud the sequence of passages off (using his fingers as a calculator),says aloud, ’I’m sure it was P4 where the food always is’, re-enters to have a final search, before finally shouting out “There’s been a mistake, someone has stuffed up.  Where is my food!  I’m not doing this for fun you know!”

(Student is subsequentially paid off and asked to leave the laboratory).

INTERPRETATION

Overall results suggest that the student is a marginally (but significantly) faster learner than the rat.  The student may tentatively be seen to be more intelligent than the rat.

The rat however is specifically faster and more able to unlearn than the student.

Therefore although the student may be seen to be a faster learner than the rat, the student shows a distinct tendency to hold onto ‘learned information’ even though the situation may clearly demonstrate that the information, the ‘knowledge’, is no longer valid.

DISCUSSION

Results of this experiment strongly indicate that the rat is likely to be a better survivor than the human in a changing environment.  The rat is more likely to abandon learned information when it is no longer strategically useful, whereas the human is more likely to cling to units of ‘knowledge’ even though those old learnings may threaten his future survival.

It can also be projected from this experiment that if the human attains erroneous ‘knowledge’, (that is, information that it accepts as being true, valid and therefore useful) it is likely to hold on to this misleading ‘knowledge’ even though other more valid information might be available.  The tendency to retain ‘knowledge’, along with the restricted ability (or unwillingness) to ‘unlearn’ specific information may be a significant factor in limiting the progress of human knowledge and understanding.

RELEVANCE

It is recommended that teachers, trainers and information presenters should be mindful of units of ‘prior knowledge’ that their students may bring to a learning situation, and take specific steps to address the ‘unlearnings’ necessary to allow more relevant learnings to take place.

As in the case of the study of ‘dyslexia’, such erroneous prior knowledge may be the product ‘authoritarian statement’ – the words of a respected writer, publication, teacher, authority or elder; they may also be the long-term residue of early child-like understandings, accepted, but never examined nor challenged; and they may also have been accepted from commercial advertising information – often presented as ‘research based’ information – which is presented purely to support a commercial, money-making venture.

In any event the recipient (indeed most people) is likely to hold information which he has never been caused to question.  These information units survive in the form of ‘personal truths’ – unrecognised pivotal beliefs that he is not even aware that he holds.

SUMMARY

Effective learning may initially involve significant unlearning of erroneous ‘knowledge’.

Laughton King

30.12.12