On a recent Saturday morning, I woke up at my usual 6 a.m. and couldn’t fall back asleep. Rather than lay in bed, I decided to get a jump start on the day and get some work done before my girls woke up. A half an hour into writing my training plan, coffee still warm, and with Youtube videos playing in the background, I heard these little feet pitter-patter through the hall headed to what had to be my bedroom. To her surprise, Kailey didn’t find me there but she wasted no time tracking me down in my favorite spot on the couch. The predictable, “Good morning. What are you doing, Mommy?” belted out of her high-pitched mouth and it became clear that her going back to sleep was not going to become a reality any time soon.

I thought it would be a good idea to distract her or at least try to keep her busy for me to wrap up what I was working on, and to keep her from waking her sister. I grabbed one of the new puzzles from the shelf and started to hand it to her. She was excited and interested, but instead of giving it to her to explore, I did what any person well-trained in early childhood education new better than to do: I started lecturing my first grader on how to put together a puzzle with many small pieces. Step by step, I told her how to look at the pictures and match the same colors; put all of the straight edges together; fill in the middle; so on and so forth. My ultimate goal was to be very clear about all of the instructions so that she would follow the directions and let me get back to my work…because at six, she should be able to handle a 75-piece puzzle on her own, right?

Just imagine for a moment how this scenario went. You guessed it, she did the exact opposite of what I thought I had thoroughly explained. She looked at the puzzle, dumped the pieces on the floor, and looked at me with a straight face and said, “um, I need help, please.” Take a deep breath, she’s got this. She doesn’t really need help. She’s put together many puzzles and this one is no more difficult than any she’s done before. It’ll be easy, match the pink corners, straight edges, connect the middle. Exhale. After about five minutes of trying to reassure her she could do it (by herself), she finally decided to give it a try. I returned to my work for ten minutes only to look up and discover that although she had connected quite a few pieces, the picture wasn’t right. I had just spent minutes explaining what she needed to do only to have to come back and demonstrate it and coach her through it. What a waste of time! She still needed me to show her as she worked on the puzzle.

That’s when it hit me! I was writing a workshop plan for teachers who would leave their classroom, attend the training to “receive information,” and then go back to their schools to figure out how to put the pieces together. We were doing it all wrong! In this moment, I realized why workshops alone don’t work. Here are a few takeaways and suggestions for how to make it work:

1.       Out of context, the information doesn’t make as much sense. Imagine if I had given the exact same instructions while she had the puzzle in front of her. She could have started to apply them, and once she got the hang of it, wouldn’t have needed me anymore. Here’s what to do instead: provide in the moment coaching and training and allow teachers to do as they learn. The connections happen much faster and scaffolding becomes much more meaningful.

2.       You can’t guarantee the material will be applicable to the work setting. The instructions I gave were based on my own experiences in completing puzzles and my approach to the process, but I didn’t factor in things that didn’t apply. I insisted that she use the image on the picture and copy it, but it wasn’t until the end that I realized that she was never going to be able to do that. The two pictures just didn’t match! Ask questions about the tasks that are suggested and find out if they’re even feasible. Have an alternative method just in case.

3.       Hands-on training may save more time thank you think. If I had only let her put together the puzzle as I explained it to her, the process would have been much smoother. There is great value in modeling your expectations and working together. What’s the saying? “Tell me and I forget; teach me and I remember, involve me and I learn.” Yep, the concept totally applies here.

I know what you’re thinking, this won’t always work and you have to send teachers to workshops. When you do, just have a plan to support them in implementing what they learn. Hopefully it won’t be as painful as the puzzle situation I had with my daughter, but I’m sure there’s a way you can make it work.

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