SHEA: Learning curve

Learning is an intensely personal process that I don’t think happens in the classroom. My brain has always turned off once a professor attempts to teach an entire class a very technical formula or method that can really only be done on an individual basis.

Whether I’m in a Core science class or my Greek composition course, whenever the instructor explains something mathematically related or morphologically related – anything that needs to be done with memorization or solitary experience – I drift off into a daydream.

Sometimes I like to think about lying in a pile of puppies, or other times, such as today, I imagine how greatly life would improve if Boston University bought Commonwealth Avenue and built a lazy river for students and staff to get to class. I thought about what I wanted to eat for lunch, and even contemplated working out later in the afternoon. I wiped off my eyeglasses a few times too, and then wondered if my professor would be good in bed.

So I clearly didn’t learn much.

Learning does not simply happen when a professor recites a fact and you file it away in your brain, ready to extract it at any moment. I learn things best when I’m alone, usually in my room, with minimal distractions. If I’m studying for a test, I read the material over several times until quizzing myself on it, or when it comes to formulas, I literally just do the exercises myself until the rationale behind the procedure unravels itself to me.

This all seems straightforward, I’m sure, but I feel like a lot of valuable class time is spent reiterating – or just iterating – points that either we should have learned by ourselves or will learn for the next class. Even when I’m doing my most complicated homework and it seems necessary to visit someone’s office hours, I realize that having someone explain something to me that I don’t already know is pretty useless.

I only visit office hours for more subjective things, such as essays – it’s not as if you can argue a math problem (at least I can’t).

The most useful classes are either lecture-based or discussion-based, when the assumption is that students have come to class prepared to talk about – not learn – the given subject.

I like lectures because, having known the background information about the topic, you gain a lot of insight into what that particular professor might be speculating on. No one else speaks, and no one is expected to speak, which helps us avoid the issue of pretentious students prolonging class time with vain comments.

But I’m always confused to see students around me avidly taking down notes. I haven’t used notes on a test probably since high school, especially when the instructor gives handouts on the lecture material. I rely pretty heavily on those as well as the textbook for studying, as opposed to running the risk of missing an important revelation that only comes when your mind is focused on what the speaker is saying.

I enjoy discussions, but I don’t think they are helpful with respect to essay-writing or studying. When my classmates are too opinionated, each comment becomes less and less meaningful, but when no one exactly knows what’s going on, I begin to doubt the instructor has a clear agenda. Honestly, I usually learn more in discussions by disagreeing with the professor.

I used to not believe that some people were slower at learning and thought that they simply weren’t trying as hard, which actually isn’t always true. I have a great brain for learning, but when I’m unmotivated, I fail exams just like anyone else who doesn’t study – my previous reserve of knowledge isn’t an indicator of my proficiency in unknown material.

Learning, however, is something that only comes with experience. I taught myself how to play piano by age 7 or 8, and while it was helpful to get technical criticism from an expert, my longest songs were learned by practice over and over again, so much so that I memorized entire intricate scores without needing sheet music.

But when I’m playing my French horn in a group, such as a concert band or orchestra, I find that I always need sheet music even though my part is much simpler and only uses one body part (my mouth) instead of 11 (my fingers and one foot). Maybe it’s because the horn is a more abstract instrument, but I think it’s because I rely on other members of a group to learn parts for me, making my part incomplete.

Anyways, as much as I complain about not being good at math or failing a language exam, it’s completely my own fault. I have totally disliked many of my professors, but ultimately, learning material well is something that needs to be done alone, with some serious self-discipline.

Sydney L. Shea is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at slshea@bu.edu.