Why My 8-Year Old May Be Smarter Than Your HR Dept.

Like many 8-year old girls my daughter Hayden is fascinated, even obsessed with horses. Because we live in the ‘burbs in a cookie-cutter master-planned no horses allowed kinda community, the odds of her getting a horse of her own are nil. Hayden understands the practical barriers to horse ownership, but the heart wants what it wants.

Eventually Hayden’s obsession manifested in a new fascination with treating our two dogs, Logan and Scout, like horses. She relentlessly pursued them with curry comb in hand to brush their pathetic excuses for manes. She buffed their tiny hooves (claws) and bandaged imaginary leg injuries with masking tape. She enticed them to come to her with offers of apples and carrots (Scout fell for it every time) and once in her grasp, made them don tiny toy saddles and bridals hand-crafted from folded duct tape.

All of these things – saddling, brushing their fur, taping their little legs – were all superficial activities. Yes, she had the satisfaction of carrying out all of these busy tasks that made them look more like miniature horses, but they were still not behaving like horses and that was unacceptable. Thus Hayden reached the conclusion that the dogs simply needed to be trained to act like horses. Convinced in her ability to mold them to her vision through rigorous training, she stacked pool noodles on our patio to create a horse obstacle course and over several afternoons she cajoled, badgered, and coaxed the dogs into occasionally doing a series of half-hearted leaps over her horse jumps or balancing, ever so briefly, on an over-turned planter. These mini break-throughs were rare. For the most part, rather than feeling inspired to improve their performance, the dogs would seize every opportunity to get away from their oppressive trainer, who always demanded a level of transformation from them that they were unable to make.

Then last week after a particularly fruitless afternoon of training our dogs to be horses, Hayden was forced to admit that it wasn’t working. She came inside sweaty and frustrated with panting dogs trailing behind her. And then she said it:

Mommy, no matter how hard I train Logan to jump over pool noodles he’s still not a horse.

Even as I comforted her, inside I was THRILLED to hear her acknowledge the obvious: no amount of training will turn a dog into a horse. Not only does this have serious implications from a future dating standpoint (no “project” partners, I hope…), but it also means that my 8-year old girl grasps a fundamental truth that eludes many adults I’ve worked with: you cannot train someone to be something they’re not and don’t want to be.

How often do we as L&D professionals encounter adult humans (looking at you, HR) who are convinced you can hire a mutt and, through the power of training, turn it into a stallion? How often do we subject people to relentless training that demands a level of personal and/or professional transformation nearly impossible to achieve? How often do we marvel at the unwillingness of people to transform themselves and then blame the quality of the training they receive?

One could argue that there are no easy parallels between a child’s observation of animal nature, and the world of L&D. After all, we’re focused on human behaviors, right? But I would argue that ultimately it is the human, not the animal, who changed her behavior. Hayden grew to accept the limitations of her dogs. Yes, they’re not good horses, but they are wonderful dogs.

As L&D struggles to provide access to meaningful opportunities and tools, we always need to keep realistic expectations for our audience in mind. Developing talent starts with acknowledging what those talents are. How can we help them identify their goals, their strengths and weaknesses? How can we enable them to plan their future? Sure, training may or may not be an outcome of those efforts, but it shouldn’t be the focus of those efforts – and even my 8 year can tell you that.





3 Lessons I Learned from a (Lousy) 4th Grade Teacher

I’ll just come out and say it: my son’s 4th grade teacher was lousy and by “lousy” I mean that she was, amongst many other things:

  • Powerless: Every challenge was met with a shoulder shrug and, “…well, there’ nothing I can do, because that’s a District policy…”
  • A Word Pusher: Lessons were frequently delivered from HER perspective – most often as a lecture – with little participation from the children.
  • Overly Punitive: Drew a few army men on the back of your math homework? Big mistake. Now you’ve been assigned additional homework as punishment.

It’s probably easy to see why my husband and I were left feeling annoyed, aggravated, and alienated.

Fresh for my latest skirmish with the teacher, I decided to participate in one of David Anderson‘s eLearning design challenges, in part to channel my frustration into something more productive. The result is the learning geek equivalent of a “Burn Book.” It’s raw. It’s sarcastic. It’s take no prisoners.


I hesitated to share this post and this project with the world since it is SO filled with snarkasm (albeit without exaggerating or embellishing upon our experience). And I want to be VERY clear on this point, it’s not my intention to cast a negative light on teachers or teaching. I’m very fortunate to count many friends and family as teachers, and it is their high-standards that have served to inspire my own love for learning. I think it’s fair to say that almost every teacher I know is skilled, open-minded, hard-working, and dedicated to bettering their students lives – a fact I believe to be true of most folks who enter such a challenging profession.

That being said, the reason I decided to share this experience and my sarcastic response, is that I see a lot of the same lousy behaviors in many of the L&D organizations I serve: powerlessness (learned helplessness), word pushing (lecture), and a tendency towards positioning learning as a form of punishment. It’s no surprise since a traditional “school” model of students in chairs, studying and taking tests is how so many of us contextualize “learning.” In the corporate world, we spend a good deal of our time butting heads with executives and SMEs who seem to think that people only learn when they’ve been “taught.” So given what we’re up against, how do we avoid being lousy teachers?

My Lessons Learned

1. Powerless. Is there another department in a typical corporate setting that’s more often seen, by itself and others, as “powerless” then the Training Department? (Okay, maybe the Facilities folks get less love than we do, but it’s a close call…).

When I think of a typical corporate L&D organization, I think about how we often exist in complicated dotted-line reporting relationships to other units such as OD and HR, or how we work directly for specific lines of business (e.g., Sales, Marketing, etc.), for whom training is a necessary evil – a costly means to an end. Such complex arrangements may deprive us of the organizational clout needed to make sweeping changes. Over time, our lack of clout leads us to present ourselves to business partners as victims of the corporate machine: “We’re only allowed to use the branded template” or “We have to include a quiz because that’s the way all of our eLearning is done.” Words like that don’t inspire much confidence, do they?

Assuming your workplace isn’t an entirely toxic environment, you may have more opportunities to influence change. Okay, so influence isn’t as satisfying as being a “change maker” – but it’s a lot better than stewing in your own juices! Where to start? When it comes to reclaiming some power, sometimes you’ve got to fake it until you make it:

  • Think like a learning expert.
  • Talk about benefits to the business (i.e. use more consultative language).
  • Do more prototyping of your ideas to build buy-in with your SMEs.
  • Use more showing and less telling.
  • Present evidence and gather examples from other industries that support your assertions and recommendations.

These are simple ways of projecting a more professional and positive persona, and they can potentially help to boost your credibility. By chipping away at the big changes using smaller changes like ditching the mandatory quiz, writing in a more relaxed/conversation tone, using graphics or creative treatments that are accessible and beautiful, you can help you exert a little more influence over the method – if not set the stage for better results. And over time, a few small wins can add up to greater influence and, maybe eventually, the power you need to be a more effective and valued business partner.

2. A Word Pusher. Imagine I’m a SME and I’ve told you that one of my requirements for our project is that every word of my content must be read by the learner. Disable the next button, I say. FORCE the learner to sit on that screen for at least 2 minutes before they can advance. Add more quiz questions. Make it so they have to pass the quiz with an 80% or higher before they can get credit for the course. If you’re groaning right about now, it’s probably because you can sense the uphill battle looming. If you’re feeling powerless (see above) it might seem easier to just meet my demands and move on, right?

Pushing content (words) at people is one approach to communication, but is it effective? Largely it’s not. But busy SMEs and executives don’t know that. They spend a great deal of their time attempting to control chaos, minimize risk, and strengthen the bottom line. Clear, highly detailed communication is seen as an enabler of performance and the foundation for how they’re measured. The good news? Understanding that is your “in” to stopping the vicious cycle of lecture as “learning.”

Along with applying the techniques I just reviewed for addressing powerlessness, here are some of my favorite resources:

3. Overly Punitive. Ever been forced to go to a training class you thought was a waste of time? You may have heard things from fellow participants like, “My boss sent me” or “I have other things I should be doing.” Invariably people sit with arms crossed, blank expressions, texting on their phones, maybe even answering emails on their laptops.

When people fail to perform, I’ve found that sending them to training is probably one of the least helpful things you can do. It’s not usually a lack of practice, knowledge, understanding, nor an inability to appreciate the importance of their actions. In short, almost none of the things that one could meaningfully address with a typical training intervention.

More often it’s a case of employees not equipped with adequate tools and resources, or who are encumbered with a process that’s heavy with exception-handling and dynamic decision-making and an operating environment that refuses to recognize those realities. Assigning training is not only ineffective, but also demoralizing, humiliating (since it often dismisses their existing level of expertise), and doesn’t fundamentally address the barriers that stand in the way of performance.


And last but not least, whether you’re stuck in a power vacuum, overwhelmed by words, or battling the organizational view of learning as a cure-all/punishment, this experience taught me that finding an outlet for your frustration is cathartic. Write about your challenges in a blog, share helpful links on Twitter or Facebook or LinkedIn, attend conferences, webinars, luncheons – whatever it takes to connect with and learn from your peers…and maybe, if you’re up for it, use the tools of your trade to make things better…and not just snarkier. (wink, wink)