Conversations with Seth
How the right teacher, explanation, or approach can transform your ability to learn.
Sometimes You Haven’t Found the Right Translation Yet
The other day, Seth and I got into one of those conversations that starts in one place and ends up traveling through about seventeen others.
It began with motivation.
Seth:
I realize it’s kind of cliché, but you know how a lot of people’s life advice is basically just, “Do things” or “Take initiative”? Surprisingly, it actually works. I used to think it was kind of dumb, but I get it now from a logical standpoint.
Me:
I’ve actually been reading about how motivation can work differently for people with ADHD and autism. Sometimes waiting until you feel motivated doesn’t work particularly well. You may have to start before the motivation shows up. This isn’t laziness. It’s a difference in how we get ourselves into motion.
Seth:
I’ve never heard that before. I find that a little bit bunk, but let me finish what I was saying.
Me:
Go ahead.
Seth:
What bothers me about most motivational speeches is that they don’t actually tell you how to do anything. When you ask someone, “How did you get so good at this?” the answer is usually:
“I practiced.”
Or:
“I studied.”
Okay. Practiced what? Studied what?
Training is only a method. Your resource is just as important as your method for gaining a skill. And when I say “resource,” I don’t necessarily mean tools. I mean the teacher. Who you learn from—and how you learn from them—has a huge impact on whether the skill makes sense to you.
That caught my attention.
Because we talk a lot about whether someone is “trying hard enough.” We talk much less about whether the way they’re being taught actually works for their brain.
Seth:
If something doesn’t work, sometimes your body will tell you, “This teacher doesn’t work for me.” Your body can know even when your brain doesn’t. Things aren’t becoming intuitive because they don’t make sense to you. That’s why I think it’s useful to have multiple teachers.
He used his current IT instructor as an example.
Seth:
My IT teacher is trying to do it all. And in my head, I’m thinking, “You cannot do everything.” He’s accomplished a lot for himself and for other people, but that doesn’t mean he can teach everything equally well.
I think he can teach me. I just don’t think he is the best teacher for me.
Me:
So, he isn’t a bad teacher. He just isn’t the most effective teacher for you.
Seth:
Exactly.
And that distinction matters.
There is a huge difference between saying, “This person is a bad teacher,” and saying, “This is not the way I learn best.”
One judges the teacher. The other recognizes that learning depends on the fit between two different ways of processing information.
That distinction would have meant a lot to me when I was younger.
For years, when something didn’t click for me, the assumption was usually that I needed to try harder, concentrate better, practice more, stop making excuses, or somehow force myself to learn in the prescribed way.
But what if effort wasn’t the missing ingredient?
What if the missing ingredient was translation?
I mean, Seth and I are both neurodivergent, and even we don’t learn the same way.
What works beautifully for one person may be almost useless to another.
A book may be exactly what one learner needs. Another person needs to watch someone demonstrate a skill. Someone else needs to ask questions. Another learner needs to see the entire system before any of the individual steps make sense.
And sometimes, “Practice more” is meaningless advice until someone answers the much more important question:
Practice what?
Maybe learning isn’t only about finding the discipline to keep going.
Sometimes, it’s about finding the person, explanation, example, or language that finally makes the thing click—and recognizing that something isn’t working for you doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve failed to learn.
It may simply mean you haven’t found the right translation yet.
