The Knife

On our recent trip to Boston, my seven-year-old son, Charlie, was finally allowed to purchase a pocket knife.  One of the requirements of ownership was for him to get training from me once we returned home.  
We arrived back in Asheville at 6:00 on Saturday evening after a full day in the minivan, and among Charlie’s first words were, “Can I get my pocketknife training now?”

“No, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.  We’ve got to unpack, do laundry, and get some rest.”  Moaning and disgruntled looks followed.
First thing on Sunday morning, “Can you train me now?”
“No, you’ll have to wait until we get back from church.”  More moaning and disgruntlement, but Charlie knew not to be too vocal proclaiming injustice because I still held all the cards.
Finally, the moment had arrived, and I had an internally motivated learner on my hands.  We sat on the back porch and I asked him to think about the difference between a tool and a toy.  He immediately answered that the knife was dangerous and toys weren’t dangerous.  So we talked about under what circumstances a knife could be dangerous.  I also talked about places where knives were not allowed and why they weren’t allowed.
Next we went through the process of actually using the knife.  How to open it safely, how and what to cut, and how to close it safely.  
The last thing I talked to him about was under what conditions he could show it to his friends and let them handle it.  (Owning a pocket knife has got to raise you a few levels in seven-year-old coolness factor.)  Then we were done, or so Charlie thought.
He was just about to run out the door to run down to Graham and Reed’s house when I told him that he would have to wait until later in the day to show them.
“WHAT?”
“Well, I want to see if you can actually remember all the stuff we went over.”
You can imagine the look I got.  Yes, I should have told him going into the lesson that there would be a quiz, but I didn’t think of it until I started imagining Charlie waving his knife around replicating some crazed street fighter because the learning did not stick.
So, after a few agonizing hours, I sat Charlie back down and asked him to tell me what he remembered about our talk.  He immediately said, “Knives are dangerous.”  
“Okay, what else do you remember.”
Charlie thought for a while.  “I don’t know.  I don’t remember what you said; I only remember what I said.”
I had just spent four days at the Future of Learning Institute at Harvard that was partly focused on trying to shift people’s thinking from a belief that learning is achieved through transference to a view that learning occurs through process.  Charlie’s response was the explanation point to this theme.