Names used in this article have been changed to maintain anonymity.
In this article, I will use the four stages of competence to guide the reader through my squash learning journey from being a beginner to being a coach. I introduce the concept of "learning epochs" based on the Sigmoid model of learning. I recommend ways to make "epoch jumps" to catalyze faster growth. I further this conceptualization of learning, by adding a third dimension to the Sigmoid model. I also go into what it means to use metaphors and recontextualization to make "epoch skips". Overall, the aim of this article is to use my squash journey to give the reader a stronger grasp of what learning is, and how to better do it.
Scattered throughout the article are 10 lessons that I think warrant special attention. But first, I will outline the context of my squash journey and my introduction to the sport.
Exactly What I Wanted
As an undergraduate student, I had made the decision that I would start my professional career in the US. I attended Carnegie Mellon University in Qatar, a satellite campus to the main campus in Pittsburgh. During my junior and senior years, I had one goal, land a job in the US straight out of graduation. After some hard work as well as some lucky timing, I landed a full-time position at a market research firm based in Chicago.
Exactly what I wanted.
In June 2022, two years after being employed, I made the decision to quit that job. The job was exactly what my university expected of me, what my parents wanted for me, and what my friends celebrated for me. It paid well, provided job security, had great benefits, I could work from home, my coworkers were nice, and it wasn’t too challenging or stressful. I learned a lot in the first 6 months on the job, but as 6 months stretched to 24, I found myself learning close to nothing for long periods of time. I found it to be too comfortable.
The day-to-day work consisted of addressing client questions by creating data-centric reports, dashboards, and PowerPoint presentations. Depending where on the project timeline I was, I would either be writing research project outlines, mining data from our database, cleaning and formatting the data in Excel, writing insights and key takeaways, or creating visuals and graphs. At first, I enjoyed being able to provide my own ideas and insights to clients. Then, I found myself regurgitating the same conclusions about how bread is being used at breakfast over and over again. Go figure that trends in bread consumption don't change very much. I found it to be monotonous.
The company I worked for sold data to other businesses, spanning across 20+ industries. I was part of the Food and Beverage team, providing insights and recommendations to large food manufacturers such as Kellogg’s, KraftHeinz, and Hershey’s. I love food (who doesn’t?), but I wouldn’t say that I am passionate about the food industry. The food industry moves slowly, with innovation being heavily regulated and trends often unfolding over years. I found it to be uninteresting.
This was exactly what I wanted?
It had dawned on me 18 months into the job that I had spent most of my waking hours doing something that I found too comfortable, monotonous, and uninteresting. Yet I pushed through not only because I wanted this, but also because the people who care about me wanted this for me too. In order to land this job, I had worked hard, my university helped me network, and my parents supported me through university.
However, I had reached a breaking point. I could no longer let my previous desires determine how I would live my life in the present. I chose to be honest instead of integrous. I could no longer let the guilt of letting down those who supported me control my actions. I chose to be forgiving instead of apologetic. I could no longer let inertia push me increasingly slower through life. I chose to be proactive instead of reactive.
This is what I have learned since making those choices.
Pursuing Health
After I had left my job, I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do with my life. I had some money saved up from my job that could last me half a year so I had a decent amount of time to work with. I had hobbies and interests that incessantly nagged at me while I was at work. The thoughts that led with “I would rather be doing…”, those were what I explored first. Maybe I could make music more seriously? What about writing? What about furthering my education? How about becoming a personal trainer?
What I had decided, and what pushed me to leave my job, was the pursuit of health. I have a philosophy of life that goes something like this: each decade of your life should be primarily devoted to something that is best done during that decade. I believe that the ages 20-30 should be devoted to achieving the best physical form genetically possible. It is a time to push your body to its limits, eat well, respect your sleep, learn a physical discipline, and master your biology. Your body is best suited to do so during your 20s, just take a look at professional athletes and their peak years. Furthermore, the physical foundation built in these 10 years gives you the knowledge, experience, and biological baseline to lead a healthy and capable life for decades to come. The further down in life you wait to build this baseline, the more difficult it will become to maintain.
Unconscious Incompetence
I had already picked up squash, a sport known for its physical demands, back in my junior year of university. I played it casually with friends, and had one competitive experience during my semester abroad at the main campus in Pittsburgh. I enjoyed it, but I never really knew how to play it properly, I was never coached and just improvised the technique.
Following my pursuit of health, I decided that I’d just commit to squash. Up until this point in my life, I had been playing primarily contact sports. However, because of a herniated disc injury, I needed to pick up something where I was at a low risk of debilitating myself. Squash was perfect for me because, although both players share the same space on the court, contact with the other player is not allowed. I had to commit to something or else the 6 months I had were going to be wasted. It didn’t really matter to me what I committed to, as long as I was staying true to my philosophy.
With squash, I didn’t know what I was doing at first, I was just trying things and exploring what different variations of swings felt like. I tried my best to remember what other people at my university's squash club used to advise, but I didn't have much to go off of. Sometimes I’d twist my torso with the swing, sometimes I wouldn’t. I tried a big backswing, then a short one. I tried pointing my feet towards the front wall, then the side wall. Whatever felt right, I kept. I simply didn’t know what I was doing.
After a few weeks of solo training, I mustered up the courage to play at the gym’s weekly round robin. I thought I could at least go even with most people, given my athletic ability and involvement in sports throughout my life. This is when I realized how little I knew about how to play. What I did know, however, was that I sucked at the game.
Lesson 1: Be aware of your ignorance.
Conscious Incompetence
After getting utterly demolished at my first round robin, I became obsessed with figuring out the sport. I watched tutorial videos and professional play on YouTube, I read articles and books on the game, and I asked for advice and tips from the squash community at the gym. I put these into practice, taking whatever I could and implementing it into my form and movements. I found myself on the squash court more often, from 3 times a week, to 4 times, to 5. The time I spent on the court gradually increased from 1 hour to 2 hours to 3. I worked on my footwork, my swing, my fitness, my tactics, anything I could think of. I played whoever and whenever I could. I lost many many times. I lost way more than I won. I found myself losing to people who were younger, older, weaker, stronger, slower, or faster than me. In the span of a couple of months, I increased my weekly court time from 3 hours to 15 hours, yet I was still entrenched in the unfathomable amount of ignorance I had about the game.
I joined the league at my gym which was broken into divisions of similar skill levels. I was at the bottom division, as I had not yet played a rated game. I won the first 5 matches I played. That being said, I was playing against people who were either complete beginners or played recreationally. I had simply spent more time than them on court and took it more seriously.
I joined the league again after the divisions had been reset, I was now in a division higher. With five rated wins under my belt, I had gained some newfound confidence. I thought that I would rise to the top of the leaderboard quickly. I remember telling the head squash coach of the gym, Rodrigo Perez, tongue-in-cheek, “Give me a few more months and I’ll be up there with you,” pointing at the top division where he resided. He laughed it off and said "I look forward to it."
My first game of the new division was against a scrawny guy around my age who looked like he never played a sport in his life. He had glasses, looked frail, and spoke quietly. We shook hands and started warming up, hitting the ball to each other against the front wall. He hit it with so much power that it surprised me. Up until that point, I hadn’t heard the ball hitting the wall and echoing like his drives did. I thought to myself, “sure he might have some power, but he probably can’t move as quickly as me.” I was right about that, but it didn’t matter. He would just kill the rally whenever I played a poor shot, which was more often than not. He was simply better than me. I lost the match 3 games to 1.
I left the court, defeated, a little dazed and confused.
The thoughts of self-doubt flooded my mind. I spent hours upon hours for the past few weeks practicing, and I couldn’t beat him. I am losing to someone who is near the bottom of the leaderboard. What was the point of practicing all this time then? I quit my job, decided to commit myself to squash, and I can't even hit the ball to where I wanted it to go? I am losing even though I am taking this sport more seriously than him. Why am I taking this so seriously anyway? What a joke.
I sat down on one of the benches, hunched over, out of breath, and sweating profusely. He sat down on the floor across from the bench.
"How long have you been playing squash for?" I asked after we caught our breaths.
He gulped down some water, "Around 5 years. What about you?"
I exhaled, "Like one year."
"Only one year?" he was surprised. "You are really good for playing only one year."
"Thanks, not good enough to beat you though." I responded, a little frustrated.
Lesson 2: Learning takes time. More time than you think it takes.
He smiled, he knew how I was feeling. "That was a fun match. Let's hit again sometime."
We shared contact information and I left the gym soon after to head back to my apartment. I walked through downtown Chicago with my head down and feet dragging. My gym bag felt unusually heavy, and the early winter winds bit at me with mockery.
The nail in the coffin was when I got home and had to answer my brother's question, "Did you win?"
Conscious Competence
For the rest of the league, I won 2 and lost 2 matches, meaning that I would stay in the same division after the league had been reset. I couldn't bear the feeling of being stuck. Time was passing and my savings were dwindling, I had to do something. Everything I built up to that point, my swing, my movement, my tactics, I was ready to throw it all away. They obviously weren't working. Training myself and working off false assumptions would only build bad habits later down the line.
I accepted my ignorance and reached out for help. A few days after the league had ended, I walked into Rodrigo's office, and I told him, with more than a hint of embarrassment, "I want to get as good as I can at squash". It can be embarrassing to sincerely state our goals because it makes us vulnerable to mockery and ridicule. You want to do XYZ? Ha! Get real, don't be so delusional.
This was the first time, and he was the first person, who I openly shared my goal with. His general disposition was friendly, sociable, and animated, but as soon as I told him this, his face hardened with a deep seriousness. He said calmly, "Okay, I can set up something for you."
Digging out of my savings, I set up 3 training sessions per week for the next month with Rodrigo. My first training session was later that same week and was the first time I stepped on court with him. I felt the weight of his presence on court, like a black hole bending the space around it.
We worked on basic shots, with him feeding the ball to the front of the court and me hitting straight drives. It seemed as though everything I was doing was wrong. Every shot I hit was an opportunity for me to hear what was wrong about my technique.
Lesson 1: Be aware of your ignorance.
"Watch the ball."
"Face the side wall."
"Racquet up!"
"Finish your swing."
"Give yourself more space."
"Racquet up!"
"You are standing too tall."
"Stay low throughout the entire shot."
"Racquet up!"
It hurt my ego because I thought my self-taught form was pretty decent, but I soon realized how valuable this was. I was getting instant feedback. I didn't have to lose a point or think over the hundreds of things that were potentially wrong about my swing after the fact. I didn't have to guess anymore. As soon as something was off, I was being told what that was. Instant feedback sped up the learning process tenfold.
By the end of the session, I was utterly exhausted, both mentally and physically. It seemed like each time I got something down, there were 10 new things that I had to keep in mind. You turned your shoulders to the side wall like you were supposed to? Great, but you still aren't watching the ball nor are you bringing your racquet up. Oh and by the way you rotated your torso too much when you hit the shot.
It was a bittersweet feeling. I was simultaneously growing what I was ignorant of and growing what I had knowledge of. That's real growth for you.
Lesson 3: Incorporate instant feedback to your learning.
After each lesson I took, I had more and more I needed to keep in mind when playing. The first lesson was just about the fundamentals of the swing for one type of shot. But as I took more lessons, what I had to keep track of throughout my movements grew. After a few weeks, I had to keep track of my racquet preparation, my movement to the ball, my swing, my point of contact, my body position, my follow through, and my movement back to the T for every shot I played. It became overwhelming, and I often got stuck.
For the longest time, I had trouble watching the ball as my racquet hit it. I would almost always be looking at where I wanted the ball to go. It is a bad habit to have because it turns your body to the front wall instead of the side wall, causing misalignment in your swing. I'd be so focused on where I wanted the ball to go that I'd lose focus on what actually mattered for the ball to go where I wanted it to: the ball itself. It is an oddly applicable metaphor for life, you can't go where you want to unless you correctly do what you need to do in this moment. If you are too fixated on the future, you miss the present. Miss the present, and you won't get to that future.
What you are supposed to do is watch the ball as you make contact with it, then look to where the ball is after your have already swung through it. There is a moment of faith there, that if you swing with the correct technique, you can trust that the ball will go where you want it to. Watch the slow motion video below of two professional squash players and notice how they have their eyes glued to the ball at all times except for that split second after they've made contact.
Anyway, my point is that for weeks or maybe even months you can make little to no progress on a certain aspect of your learning. The more you learn about, i.e. the width of your learning, the harder it is to build depth across those aspects. You can't overload your brain with trying to get everything correct all at once, so get one aspect down and then move onto the next.
If you get stuck on one aspect of learning for too long, move on to something else. You know you have been stuck for too long when you get frustrated or angry at yourself. You should be eager to practice an aspect and be almost playful with the explorative learning. As soon as it is no longer enjoyable, drop it and pick it up at a later time.
Lesson 4: Drill down on one or two learning aspects at a time.
There was a decent stretch of time, maybe a month or so, where I just wasn't enjoying squash. I would play against others during the weekly round robins and I'd beat myself up over every little misplay. I would shout out in frustration because I was playing to win, instead of playing to explore new ways of improving my game. I was putting so much pressure on myself to perform because I was desperate to prove to myself and others that I was getting better. To continue losing to the same people meant that I had been wasting my time, and all the work I had put in was for naught. To end the month of harsh self-criticism, I turned to growth.
The best way to avoid learning frustration is to release yourself from self-labeling and move towards an active, learning, growth-oriented mindset using cognitive reframing. The words you use to describe yourself or your life can have drastically different outcomes. Below are some examples of how you can change your thoughts to create sustainable learning:
"I am not cut out for squash." → "I will work hard and see how good I can get at squash."
"I am unathletic." → "I am working on my athleticism." or "I want to become more athletic."
"I am better than my opponent." → "I will play my best to win."
"I am bad at writing." → "I find writing difficult, but I am trying to improve."
"I am terrible at math and using numbers." → "I want to get better at math and using numbers."
"I am not a good person." → "I try my best to be good."
Of course, you can't just perpetually lie to yourself if you are not actively trying to grow, but if you are sincerely trying to learn something, cognitive reframing can be a great way to sustain your learning.
This is very important for the following: you can't even begin to learn if you believe that the reason you are ignorant of something is because that's just the way you are. If that's just the way you are, then there is no changing it, and hence no point in trying to change it. However, if you accept that the reason you are unathletic is not because of something inherent to you like a genetic trait, but rather because you haven't sincerely worked towards improving your athleticism, you are now open to learning and change.
Most often it is the first portion of learning where we give up. It is in the first portion of learning where the negative self-labels are the most dangerous because that is when they are the most confirming. Of course you'll make mistakes if this is your first time skateboarding, you haven't learnt how to do it yet. Is it because you are just genetically incapable of skateboarding? No! You can't expect yourself to get on the board for the first time and do a 360 triple hardflip right off the bat. Believe that you have the capacity to learn and grow, and you will learn and grow. Create positive self-fulfilling prophecies instead of negative ones.
In addition, a learning mindset will allow you to make mistakes gracefully. If you purport "I am better than my opponent", then any time you make a mistake or lose a point, that statement becomes less valid. If you concede more points, your label will crumble, and your ego-based confidence will shatter, leading to the impossibility of growth. On the other hand, there is very little that can invalidate your will to "play my hardest to win". The only person who can invalidate it is yourself, because only you know when you are playing your hardest. You become self-governing and are less vulnerable to outside variables. Furthermore, it allows for mistakes because mistakes are not mutually exclusive from playing your hardest.
Lesson 5: Adopt a growth mindset instead of a self-labeling one.
A model used often to illustrate the nature of the learning process is the Sigmoid curve, with time/experience on the X-axis and learning on the Y-axis, seen below. I have added the labels of where the 4 stages of competence fall.
Before I got coached, I was stuck at conscious incompetence. I didn't know how to progress. After the month-long period where I got coaching, I began the explosive journey up to conscious competence. For the next 3 months, I saw great improvement in my technique, fitness, movement, and game decisions. I began winning more games, and moving up the gym's leaderboard.
Learning is slow at first, and once you hit that point of "I know what I need to improve on", you will see explosive growth. However, that doesn't mean that learning happens monotonically. The process of learning is often riddled with obstacles, plateaus, and sometimes even unlearning. You'll find that throughout your learning journey, you will have built habits that worked at the time, but actually hinder your learning over the long run. At a certain point, you have to work towards unlearning those habits so that you can adopt more effective processes.
Lesson 6: Learning is not linear, nor is it monotonic.
For example, I had a bad habit for 80% of my squash journey (which I got over only a few months ago) of hitting the ball as hard as I could for every drive. I was so obsessed with hitting the ball with power that I would compromise the control and accuracy of my swings. It was a misconception that stuck with me from my incompetence as a beginner. Hitting fast shots would usually win me the point at the novice level, so I developed a habit of doing it whenever I could. However, at a certain level of play, powerful shots can actually be counterproductive to winning. This is because if you hit the ball with too much power, the ball will bounce off the back wall, giving your opponent a positional and time advantage. What you want to aim for is for the ball to die in the back of the court, forcing your opponent to take it early.
Once I started playing people who understood the game at a more strategic level, I was getting punished over and over again for hitting the ball too hard. What's funny is that I thought to myself, "Hmm, I must not be hitting the ball hard enough if they are getting it." So I tried to hit as hard as I could for every shot, which caused me to not only lose positionally, but also exhausted me physically.
These misconceptions are what build bad habits. Bad habits are what slow down learning. Slow learning is what frustrates people enough to stop learning altogether. Again, back when I was playing novice players, I was rewarded for my misconception. But there came a time where I had to do away with it and reconceptualize what a good shot is.
Here's the kicker: I was constantly told by my coach that "it is not about killing the ball, it is about getting good length." Even though I was told this countless times for many months, it didn't really click until killing the ball was the reason why I couldn't progress. I had to, yet again, accept my ignorance.
Lesson 1: Be aware of your ignorance.
This is where I had to reconceptualize my game and redefine what success looked like. Below is a graphic inspired by a LinkedIn Pulse article written by Cameron Norton that chains together Sigmoid curves to illustrate the most optimal time to change jobs. He claims that the best time to make the transition is after the peak (conscious competence) and before the decline (unconscious competence). The same is true for learning. Ideally, when learning, you'll want to stay in the growth phase for as long as possible by overlapping your times of unconscious competence with new unconscious incompetencies. Over the long run, this will enable you to continue learning on top of what you already know without spending substantial amount of time in stagnancy.
I'll call each S-curve a "learning epoch", and moving from one S-curve to the next an "epoch jump".
Let me provide an example from my squash progress. In June 2023, I flew out to New York for a weekend to take the US Squash Level 1 Coaching Certification course held at a Lifetime gym. There are 4 levels in total, and this was the entry level course. While I was there, other coaches and I learnt about how best to teach beginners and intermediate players through utilizing structured progression in our coaching. On the first day of the course, we all sat around a large conference room table. We went around introducing ourselves, our professional experience, and our coaching experience.
"I used to play on the Egyptian Junior National Team. I am taking this course because US Squash has made this course mandatory to take in order to coach at the professional level." "I've been coaching for 10 years. I am taking the course for the same reason."
"I am on the PSA tour with a ranking of around 120. Same reason." (He ranks among the top 120 squash players in the world.)
"I used to play on the Mexican national team. I am looking to coach in the States so I am taking this course."
I sat there, realizing that I was far outclassed by these people, both as a player and as a coach. They were only in the same room as me, taking this course, because they needed to finish all 4 US Squash coaching levels in order to satisfy the requirements to coach at the professional level.
"I am a new coach with no achievements or accolades to my name. I am taking this course so I can coach at the gym I play at."
I felt uncomfortable and out of place, but the other coaches didn't think much about it. If anything, they were the ones taking a course that was far below their caliber.
At the end of the first day, the instructor wanted to gauge our skill levels. We got out of the conference room, headed to the squash courts, put our court shoes on, and spread ourselves out across 4 courts. Each court had 3 players playing king of the court, first to 11. Whoever won would move over to the court on the right, and whoever lost would move over to the court to the left. I thought that I could maybe win a few games if I played with all I had. The rest of the coaches didn't seem to care much about this competition, so I thought I could catch them off guard.
Instantly, from the first 3 rallies I played, I was face-to-face with an insurmountable level of conscious incompetence. I suddenly understood what it meant to play the game of squash. This was when I had my first brain shattering S-curve epoch jump. I went from a level of conscious competence to a higher level of unconscious competence within a few minutes.
Every shot they played was crisp, accurate, and efficient. They moved effortlessly throughout the court, and their decision making was clinical. Their rallies went on, sometimes for over a minute, while I would mishit every third shot. They played with confidence that could only come with thousands of hours of dedicated training. I played with the confidence of someone who learnt the proper grip only 15 months ago.
Needless to say, I never won a game, and I was dead last by the end of the competition. I can only imagine what the level of play was like at the top court. By the end, I felt like a complete imposter. "You are nowhere near these guys." "How can you be a coach when you can barely keep up with them?" "Why would anyone want coaching from you?"
There was one thought that stood out though, "If they are at that level, it is humanly possible. You can also get to where they are."
Lesson 7: Force yourself to make epoch jumps.
Below is my US Squash rating graph over time. Anyone who wants to play rated matches has to have a US Squash account where you record your matches. Your rating will go up if you win, and down/sideways if you lose. If you beat a player who has a much higher rating than you, your score will improve more than if you beat a player who had a lower rating than you. It is similar to the Elo system in chess. I haven't played a rated match in a few months now, so the most recent rating data isn't completely reflective of my improvement.
You can see how over the past year, there have been periods of slow/no growth, followed by periods of high growth. Epoch jumps.
Unconscious Competence
After I came back from the coaching course (which I passed), I talked to Rodrigo regarding working at the gym as a squash coach. He was open to it but he had to check with the higher ups. I was really excited for this opportunity as it could mark the beginning of philosophical alignment in my life. My pursuit of health would align with my livelihood.
After a few more days, Rodrigo got back to me. Bad news, there was a policy that disallowed employing current members. We tried to get around it, but it wasn't happening. This was obviously very frustrating for me because I had worked so hard to get to the level I was at. I was finally capable of being a squash coach, and my capability was validated by my own coach, but it just wasn't going to happen. By this point, I was out of savings and out of time. I had a part-time cashier gig at Whole Foods for a few months just to get me by, but I quit because I was going to Virginia to spend a few weeks with my parents and family. I was banking on the coaching job to pan out, but it didn't.
While I was in Virginia visiting family, my parents suggested that I looked for work opportunities around the area while I had nothing to do. So that I did. There was a squash gym that was a 15 minute drive away from my parents' place called Fire Squash Academy. I scanned through their website and reviews, and it seemed like a decent place. The head squash coach's name was Heba Salah, a former women's professional squash player with a world ranking of 41. I tried calling in but no one answered. Fine, I said, I would just walk into the gym and find Heba herself. So that I did.
I walked into Tyson Racquet Club, a classic racquet club from the 1950's that had a tinge of old-money. It had warm, soft lighting, carpeted floors, and an average member age of 50. I asked the front desk for a tour, specifically of the squash courts. One of the employees escorted me to where the squash courts were. We passed the "Men's Lounge" (which I later learnt was just the bathroom), we passed the weight room, went through a narrow alley behind the tennis courts, and finally entered the squash area. Squash courts are always tucked away somewhere, hidden from the public eye, like some sort of shared secret.
As I entered the doorway into Fire Squash Academy and turned the corner, I saw Heba surrounded by kids. They were beginning a clinic (a group training session). She saw me come in and I introduced myself before she had the chance to get on court with the students.
"Hi, I'm Samer."
She was like a ball of energy moving around frantically and talking to 3 kids at a time, "Hi Samer, I'm Heba. Do you-- go onto the court I will be there in a second! Do you play squash?"
"Yeah, I'm actually looking to coach as well."
"Oh nice! Are you from around the area?"
"No I'm from Chicago, but I am looking for--"
Her attention was quickly taken away by one of the other coaches. "It is my turn?! Okay, I will play with them!" she called out as she grabbed her racquet. "Sorry, I need to continue my lesson!"
I wasn't even able to finish my elevator pitch. I turned around and asked the tour guide if there were any business cards or contact information so I could later contact Heba directly. He provided me her business card and I emailed her later that night regarding my interest in coaching.
Fast forward a few weeks, I had gotten the job as a squash coach at Fire Squash Academy. It had been 18 months since I played my first rated squash match, and now I was a squash coach working under a former world-class athlete. I could now make what was previously just a philosophy into a lifestyle.
Lesson 8: Don't give up on your goals.
Throughout the next few weeks of coaching people of varying ages and skill levels, I developed the capacity to bring things out of my unconscious competence into conscious competence. This was only possible by becoming a coach and teaching what had become automatic for me. The intricate swing mechanics, which had become muscle memory for me, now had to be broken down into easily-digested tidbits for kids who were sometimes smaller than the racquet they were holding.
Each time I step onto the court as a coach, I step out learning something new as a student. It is almost as if I am revealing something that was tucked away deep in the unreachable labyrinths of my mind. Like a time-capsule, when brought out to the light once more, it somehow reveals a higher meaning than when it was initially locked away.
When explaining the details of the swing to a student who is confused, I find myself having to explain the swing in ways that makes sense to them. I end up explaining the swing in ways that I hadn't thought about before. Suddenly, the swing becomes more than just an automatic movement I make with my body. It becomes skipping a rock on the lake or a karate chop that keeps going. The game becomes more than hitting a ball, it becomes boxing out your opponent from the T or it becomes commanding central control of the board. The movements become more than lunges, they become sneaking through the jungle or bending your knees like a ballerina doing a plié. The eyes are not just watching the ball, they hunt for the ball like a hunter-gatherer or submit to the ball like it is an all-knowing being.
My previous conceptualizations of the game are constantly being renewed, refreshed, and recontextualized depending on who my student is. Any time I do solo practice after a lesson, I find myself thinking, "Wait, I haven't thought about XYZ like that before. Let me try that out for a little." More often than not, I see improvement in my own game and practice sessions with my newfound understanding.
Lesson 9: Teaching is a form of relearning.
Relearning an epoch and making an epoch jump are different. Relearning an epoch through recontextualization (using metaphors) furthers your understanding of what you already know. Making an epoch jump furthers what you know and what you do not know. A deeper understanding (more relearning) makes your knowledge more concrete and more stable. Deeper understanding makes it more likely for epoch jumps to be successful by providing a solid foundation for the jumps.
Earlier in the article, I showed the S-curve of learning with time on the X-axis and learning on the Y-axis. Below, I have added a third dimension to the model, understanding. Each new level of understanding, i.e. each relearnt epoch, is its own S-curve that must be traveled through time in order to build understanding. Just as you did with the proto-epoch, you have to go through the relearnt epoch's stages of unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence, conscious competence, and unconscious incompetence. That being said, some relearnt epochs could take less or more time than the others (not represented in the visual below).
From here, we can develop epoch chains that incorporate varying depths of understanding. Some recontextualizations may work better than others along the epoch chains. For example, imagine we use the "moving through the bushes as a hunter-gatherer" metaphor for the low and efficient movement required in squash. We can extend the metaphor to include the ball as the prey, we never keep our eyes of off it as we hunt. The metaphor still works. However, if we want to say that we use our racquet to kill the ball with our swing... the metaphor and understanding of how to swing falls apart. Instead, here we could use the "skipping the rock on water" metaphor for the swing, but it doesn't necessarily connect with the hunting metaphor. While "skipping the rock on water" doesn't work with the hunting metaphor, we can use this metaphor to make an epoch skip & jump, where you use a disconnected metaphor to further your learning in another aspect.
Hunt the ball, then skip the rock, then gain central control of the board.
Lesson 10: Use metaphors to deepen your understanding and further your learning.
Unconscious Incompetence
As of writing this, I have been coaching at Fire Squash Academy for 2 months now. The journey from quitting my job, training relentlessly, getting by with a cashier job, taking the coaching course, moving to Virginia, and landing where I am now has been full of struggle, doubt, faith, growth, and learning. As I settle into my new life, I think about how to incorporate what I have learnt and achieved in the realm of squash into my pursuit of health. Should I continue to commit most of my time to squash? Should it be something that supplements my life? Is it what I do outside of work, or is it what I do for work? Wait, what is health in the first place? Right now, I don't know. I don't have the answers yet. What I do know is that squash is something that I want to continue learning about and growing within.
Lesson 1: Be aware of your ignorance.
Lesson 2: Learning takes time. More time than you think it takes.
Lesson 3: Incorporate instant feedback to your learning.
Lesson 4: Drill down on one or two learning aspects at a time.
Lesson 5: Adopt a growth mindset instead of a self-labeling one.
Lesson 6: Learning is not linear, nor is it monotonic.
Lesson 7: Force yourself to make epoch jumps.
Lesson 8: Don't give up on your goals.
Lesson 9: Teaching is a form of relearning.
Lesson 10: Use metaphors to deepen your understanding and further your learning.
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