Learning to Pass a Test is Learning to Fail

By Cori Tyler

This time, I think I’d like to talk about some approaches to training.  I’ve been fortunate to attend some pretty fantastic law enforcement training, and spend a little time in a couple of public workshops, seminars, courses, and programs.  I always come away from training thinking about the quality of the program.  As an instructor, I often find myself looking for things to learn from other instructors, beyond the subject of the lesson.  One of the first things I find myself trying to determine is whether the class only exists to perpetuate itself, or if it has the clear goal of students learning something new.

Now, I’m not accusing every instructor in every discipline out there of doing nothing more than using each class to drum up additional, continuing business.  Though there are some of those out there, who are really just snake-oil salesmen, and care about nothing except for building their brand and creating a following, I believe most of us get into instructing as a way of keeping our own knowledge and skills fresh and helping people we respect improve theirs.  The problem, in my view, is the way many were taught to design their courses.

Usually, for a seminar, workshop, or course to be credible with many people or organizations, it has to end with a test.  To be really, super-duper credible, it should have a pre-test at the start of the course to measure progress from start-to-finish.  Now, I test well, and there are certainly some academic venues where testing can be a very useful tool.  I don’t believe I instruct any of them.

I also believe that unnecessary tests are a tremendous disservice to one’s students.  Some students don’t test well.  The pressure of a test is going to really put a crimp on what they can learn.  It’s also going to create an environment where some will focus on learning only what the test covers.  Instead of comprehending the lesson material and how it’s most useful in their daily actions, they count points with other students, in an unofficial competition.

I think it’s time to consider whether a test is actually necessary, and if it is, whether it should function in the traditional format.  In my empty-hand classes, there is a test of sorts.  It’s a test of competence from the standpoint of whether I think the student demonstrates understanding and learning in the structured practice that’s part of each class.  My students aren’t put on the spot with an official test.  I make a point of observing each of them in action, and helping them if I see them missing some of the concepts I’m teaching.  I think this accomplishes the same guarantee of competence that some find in a formal test, without forcing the students to learn a test.

My students practice concepts with their minds and hearts set to become proficient, and with an eye toward their real application.  I’ve taught courses in the past where they only strove to learn exactly how the test wanted them to perform.  Each step of that class was geared toward polishing test performance.  We had a very high rate of success on the final test, with students performing specifically tested techniques exactly as coached.  Of course, in the moment when they had to use force in the line of duty, it never looked anything like the test.

This is because the real world doesn’t happen in the sterile classroom environment of a test.  Participants in use-of-force rarely, if ever, have the luxury of positioning themselves and their opponents exactly where they practice a given technique.  The result, aside from being a cluster *&#%, was risk of injury, pretty low incidence of the techniques getting used, and generally a view of the technique and system as useful for nothing more than providing terminology to justify their actions in a report.  They saw it as a classroom exercise.

When I moved to Minnesota, I had to submit a lesson plan for approval to the State’s Peace Officer Standards and Training board.  In the process of doing so, I learned that I no longer had to teach just what a textbook or specific program demanded.  I could finally draw on my experience and training in successes and failures of using force for defense.  I could structure the class however I wanted; so long as I covered the information required by POST and could stand behind my teaching in support of someone who used what I taught.  Sure, this placed a much greater responsibility on my shoulders, but it also granted me a lot more freedom.

Testing is always the most stressful, and least favorite, part of defensive tactics training.  I started thinking of ways to eliminate that stress.  So far, the best idea I’ve had in that arena is the one discussed above.  There is no actual test, but the whole class is a test of sorts.  In a fight, there are no points for style.  There’s no ranking depending on how cleanly a technique is performed.  There isn’t even an “attaboy” for remembering proper terminology.  It’s “pass” or “fail”; win or lose.  Losing is not any part of where we want to be.

So, what is it I really want someone who takes one of my classes to learn?  I want them to learn how to successfully defend themselves or someone else in a physical confrontation.  I want them to learn how to win.  If they win, I don’t care how polished their technique was.  I don’t care what they called it.  I only care that they won.  Someone who was intent on causing harm was not successful, and the person I trained went home to their loved ones like they’re supposed to.  That’s all I ask for.

So far, I seem to be doing OK.  The people I train DO win.  I don’t stress them out with a test, and I don’t browbeat them with nuances of technique that won’t help them in anything but a test.  I give them concepts, time and space to practice putting them to work, and guidance if they’re missing the idea.  Not only does this seem to work very well for the students, it inevitably lets me learn from students who bring their own experiences into the mix.