Rewiring the System


What You Do: Genius: The Modern View

Posted in Uncategorized by rewiringangel on May 1, 2009

We construct ourselves through behavior. As I observed, it is not who you are, it’s what you do.  When I was in high school with my smarty-pants attitude, I found out that most medical doctors have a 126 IQ … My having a high IQ was not in any way a guarantee of success.

I found out that in many high IQ societies the number of social misfits is the organizing factor.  People with a high intelligence, who want to do more with their potential than sit on their laurels, tend not to join societies that aggrandize just one aspect of the human potential.

I had grown up thinking that going to medical school and becoming a doctor, a person had to be very intelligent with at least a 130 IQ or higher.  The fact that a person could become a doctor or anything else they wanted just by practice and diligent hard repetitious work was a realization revelation.  IQ, I went on to discover, by going to the library and doing research into the brain,  that IQ was just an indication of how fast a person processed input and information, be they written or spoken words,  sounds, sights , tastes, or smells. The old yarn about how you get to Carnage Hall, Practice, Practice, and Practice turns out to be true.

Perhaps if I had had a supportive adult in my circle I might have become a doctor.  Alas, the orphanage where I lived had no interest in my mind just my behavior.  The housemothers or supervisors did not give me any guidance into academics. But I had to rely on self-guiding, so I took the path of least resistance. I had a love of beauty from a very early age.  By the time, I was just over three I was attaching myself to an adult at the trolley stop a block from my house and going to the Fleischer School of Art. I drew every day.   Now I can Paint almost anything from a white egg in a white bowl on a white cloth on a white table for my daughters Easter commemoration instead of candy.

It was with my heartfelt history that I read yesterdays ‘Hunky’, (gosh I think he is quite a catch for a long conversation over dinner), David Brooks article.  I reprint it here without permission.

Many times a month, people speak as if ‘out of the blue’, and tell me I am a genius. Which I feel is meaningless, since I am just one person who is not doing very important things with my time on this planet.  The very idea of separating people based on some hierarchical imperative is a mistake.  Since every person, no matter their social or academic status makes a contribution either by their actions or inaction’s.  If one is inactive then others are moved in one way or the other, or employed to serve them, which causes the economy and society to function with purpose.

Genius: The Modern View

By DAVID BROOKS

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Published: April 30, 2009

Some people live in romantic ages. They tend to believe that genius is the product of a divine spark. They believe that there have been, throughout the ages, certain paragons of greatness — Dante, Mozart, Einstein — whose talents far exceeded normal comprehension, who had an other-worldly access to transcendent truth, and who are best approached with reverential awe.

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We, of course, live in a scientific age, and modern research pierces hocus-pocus. In the view that is now dominant, even Mozart’s early abilities were not the product of some innate spiritual gift. His early compositions were nothing special. They were pastiches of other people’s work. Mozart was a good musician at an early age, but he would not stand out among today’s top child-performers.

What Mozart had, we now believe, was the same thing Tiger Woods had — the ability to focus for long periods of time and a father intent on improving his skills. Mozart played a lot of piano at a very young age, so he got his 10,000 hours of practice in early and then he built from there.

The latest research suggests a more prosaic, democratic, even puritanical view of the world. The key factor separating geniuses from the merely accomplished is not a divine spark. It’s not I.Q., a generally bad predictor of success, even in realms like chess. Instead, it’s deliberate practice. Top performers spend more hours (many more hours) rigorously practicing their craft.

The recent research has been conducted by people like K. Anders Ericsson, the late Benjamin Bloom and others. It’s been summarized in two enjoyable new books: “The Talent Code” by Daniel Coyle; and “Talent Is Overrated” by Geoff Colvin.

If you wanted to picture how a typical genius might develop, you’d take a girl who possessed a slightly above average verbal ability. It wouldn’t have to be a big talent, just enough so that she might gain some sense of distinction. Then you would want her to meet, say, a novelist, who coincidentally shared some similar biographical traits. Maybe the writer was from the same town, had the same ethnic background, or, shared the same birthday — anything to create a sense of affinity.

This contact would give the girl a vision of her future self. It would, Coyle emphasizes, give her a glimpse of an enchanted circle she might someday join. It would also help if one of her parents died when she was 12, infusing her with a profound sense of insecurity and fueling a desperate need for success.

Armed with this ambition, she would read novels and literary biographies without end. This would give her a core knowledge of her field. She’d be able to chunk Victorian novelists into one group, Magical Realists in another group and Renaissance poets into another. This ability to place information into patterns, or chunks, vastly improves memory skills. She’d be able to see new writing in deeper ways and quickly perceive its inner workings.

Then she would practice writing. Her practice would be slow, painstaking and error-focused. According to Colvin, Ben Franklin would take essays from The Spectator magazine and translate them into verse. Then he’d translate his verse back into prose and examine, sentence by sentence, where his essay was inferior to The Spectator’s original.

Coyle describes a tennis academy in Russia where they enact rallies without a ball. The aim is to focus meticulously on technique. (Try to slow down your golf swing so it takes 90 seconds to finish. See how many errors you detect.)

By practicing in this way, performers delay the automatizing process. The mind wants to turn deliberate, newly learned skills into unconscious, automatically performed skills. But the mind is sloppy and will settle for good enough. By practicing slowly, by breaking skills down into tiny parts and repeating, the strenuous student forces the brain to internalize a better pattern of performance.

Then our young writer would find a mentor who would provide a constant stream of feedback, viewing her performance from the outside, correcting the smallest errors, pushing her to take on tougher challenges. By now she is redoing problems — how do I get characters into a room — dozens and dozens of times. She is ingraining habits of thought she can call upon in order to understand or solve future problems.

The primary trait she possesses is not some mysterious genius. It’s the ability to develop a deliberate, strenuous and boring practice routine.

Coyle and Colvin describe dozens of experiments fleshing out this process. This research takes some of the magic out of great achievement. But it underlines a fact that is often neglected. Public discussion is smitten by genetics and what we’re “hard-wired” to do. And it’s true that genes place a leash on our capacities. But the brain is also phenomenally plastic. We construct ourselves through behavior. As Coyle observes, it’s not who you are, it’s what you do.

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