Greetings, Charles, and thanks for the kind words!
Everything I've learned about training or teaching
anything comes from my experience in the Army. Practically all the training in the Army is done by Sergeants (for brevity's sake I'll use the shorthand term for them - NCOs, for Non-Commissioned Officers). As such, I bring my training techniques from being a Platoon Sergeant to teaching tai chi.
Despite what Hollywood would have you believe, the overwhelming majority of training in the Army does not look like what you see in movies about Basic Combat Training. This is a very special environment, and for many reasons which are too long to go into, we simply can't and won't have such an environment once we get to our Active Duty units, to say nothing of the Reserves or National Guard, who are otherwise civilians 28 days out of a month. Drill Sergeants stay in Basic - they have no place elsewhere. In actual practice, Army training is much like training in any large organization, only with the jargon and culture unique to the military. It is in fact easily adaptable to training and teaching in the civilian world - I've trained Officers in my Masonic Lodge, ham radio operators in my county's club, and so on in addition to the several sessions I've now led in my tai chi class.
So while I'm
extremely apprehensive about my skill level at tai chi, I'm not at all uncomfortable with
training as such - it's literally the water this fish swims in! In this respect, I can offer the following from my experience as to how I go about teaching any skill.
The first requirement in teaching is that the students must have confidence in the trainer's ability to lead a class. Jedi-level proficiency in the skill is not at all necessary (I've led many sessions where the students in fact train each other), but the trainer must have
control of the class environment. This means that the trainer is responsible for the class's agenda, goals and activities, and is chiefly responsible for keeping the class moving along. Oftentimes, classes will degenerate into people discussing things ad-nauseam, getting sidetracked, sharing personal stories and so forth; and it is up to the trainer to
gently and non-judgmentally guide the class's attention back on the subject matter at hand. There are times for discussion and sharing among class members, but they should all be focused on the subject, and brought back to the subject once they begin to needlessly stray.
Next, the training must follow a pattern. It need not be rigid at all, but the class and the trainer must all know what's expected either before they arrive or shortly thereafter. In our class, we have the following:
o a bowing-in,
o some qigong,
o work on the solo form, broken down between beginners and intermediate students,
o a section of weapons, push-hands or "self-defense,"
o a group meditation period, and
o bowing-out
This agenda was developed by our school's founder. We are indebted to him for this, and I see no reason to change a thing in it, particularly the bowing-in and bowing-out. These simple ceremonies serve to "close off" the world outside and focus the student on what's happening here-and-now, and at the end, to let the student know that the training is over and they can relax their focus. Every student knows this agenda by the first few lessons. The qigong, what we do in the solo work, and the "open section" are up to the trainer, and good trainers will have something in mind before class begins, and a concise explanation of what is about to happen in each. Conversely, there is nothing so dissatisfying as seeing an instructor go, "Well, whadda y'all wanna do?" See "needless straying" and "sidetracked discussions" above.
Third, the trainer must display sincere enthusiasm for the subject matter, and project that enthusiasm to his or her students. When I taught a task to Soldiers, I had to be absolutely convinced that they NEEDED to know what I was teaching them, and I had to communicate this need by my actions and the way I presented the material. If I didn't think they needed to know whatever it was, how on earth could I expect them to stay engaged throughout the class, let alone retain what I'd shared with them? Suppose, for example, I was teaching the task of putting on a gas mask - something I could teach well because I'd spent several years as the Chemical Defense NCO for my Company. I had to be passionate about making sure the Soldiers knew how to do it properly, and communicate to them the importance of doing the task
better than the standard set by the book. I had to keep them engaged, busy, focused and as motivated as I was - and if that meant me doing silly stuff like wiping my face down with decontaminating solution (pulverized activated charcoal) to get all filthy and have them laugh at me, that's what I did - but to this day, each of those Soldiers REMEMBERS what I'd taught them!
Fourth, the trainer must have respect for his or her students. Each of our students, whether for tai chi or for soldiering, comes to the training session with their own unique experiences, perspectives, pasts, priorities and goals. Each has unique ways of learning and retaining. And each shows up bringing different concerns, troubles, issues and obstacles they have to work past in order to grasp what we want to give them. So each student will learn at a different rate, require slightly different ways of presenting the same material, and will retain different levels of information from one session to the next. A good trainer will acknowledge and accept these differences, rather than try and shoehorn everyone into the same system of learning - a sure recipe for dissatisfaction!
A simple and astonishingly effective way to communicate this respect to the student is to start off each class by reminding the students, "You know more than you think you do." This was easy in the Army, because everything I taught them was usually something they learned from Basic training or from their specialty schools, or something they'd seen or were at least passingly familiar with. It was amazing and rewarding, seeing the difference in the level of engagement and interaction in a class that had been told this simple fact, versus one which had never heard it from their trainer.
You can display this as well as just say it. Every so often, ask a student's input. Have one student do something and ask the rest of the class "Does this look right? How can we make it better?" If the task is simple, teach one in front of the class, have him or her demonstrate proficiency, then have THAT ONE teach the next one, and so forth. Tricks like these enhance participation and instantly validate the students - they always feel better about having shown someone how to do something, even if they were just shown how thirty seconds ago!
Lastly, the trainer must not train above his or her level of competence. Anyone can see through BS and few things will erode confidence in a trainer quicker than when he or she shows they don't know what they're talking about. On the other hand, a trainer who acknowledges their limitations can retain the respect of a student, especially if that trainer knows where to point the student to get to the next level.
If it falls to the trainer to monitor the student's progress over time - as I had to with my Soldiers - keeping simple records is essential. One of my cadre colleagues is knowledgeable in computers and has all kinds of ideas about spreadsheets and so forth. I'm grateful for his expertise, but I don't work like that, so I'm putting together a binder like I used to have for my Platoon, with a page for each student that shows their goals (as
they articulate them), their progress and very little else. I don't need billing information or address or - right now - even their last name. I want to be a good custodian of their information, and unlike Soldiers, I don't need to know their hat size or their religious preference
To these I'd add character traits like humble confidence (not being a "bow to your sensei" type), having a way to maintain control of the class environment if you're proved wrong (you will be and you need to know how to react graciously to it), being concise, able to listen and other things that go with being a Quality Human Being. Douchebags make poor teachers, except by negative example.
All of what I laid out applies to tai chi, grenade throwing, soldering radio parts, putting on a Masonic degree or just about anything, and I know this because I've spent the last 20 years applying it. As for the unique aspect of teaching tai chi itself, imma keep my pie-hole shut and listen to the people here with something meaningful to contribute.
Because when it comes to tai chi, I'm still VERY MUCH a student!
gvi
(edited to add) I'd also like to thank you, Charles, for helping me to remind myself of my own advice ("You know more than you think you do"), and focus my mind more fully on the art of teaching, applying it to the skill level I have at this time. You've helped me more than I've likely helped you, and I'm grateful to you.