On Beginnerhood

kayaking

Yesterday I went kayaking again and managed to take a photo from the unusually tippy boat. The first time I went, I was charging ahead with confidence; this time, I wobbled and veered. I can blame the boat, but the truth is that I don’t have technique yet. The first boat was more forgiving. (Two very kind volunteers gave me  a little lesson; by the end, I was making good progress.)

Having been a beginner at many things, from languages to electronics, I can speak to some of its joys:

In a short time you can move from knowing nothing to knowing something (and seeing that there’s still much more to learn). That can be exhilarating.

You can usually do something with what little you know. That includes thinking about it. This means the mind has more good things to carry around.

Initially, there’s a certain charm in ineptitude, and others treat it generously.

Then come the drawbacks:

The charm of ineptitude fades quickly; after that, there’s nothing but excellence to strive for, and little chance of reaching it.

Beginners struggle to perform even simple tasks, like rowing, saying a sentence in a new language, or playing a simple melody. More work for less beauty doesn’t seem fair.

For the most part, beginners know that they can progress if they practice long and well. It may take considerable time. Perpetual beginners have chosen, in some way and for some reason,  not to take on that commitment. This can be embarrassing to admit.

All that said, it’s good that there’s room for beginners, even perpetual beginners, in the world. There’s only so much that we can do well, and it would be a shame to give up the rest. I may never be an expert kayaker, but I hope to go out on the water many more times in my life.

  • “To know that you can do better next time, unrecognizably better, and that there is no next time, and that it is a blessing there is not, there is a thought to be going on with.”

    —Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies

  • Always Different

  • ABOUT THE AUTHOR

     

    Diana Senechal is the author of Republic of Noise: The Loss of Solitude in Schools and Culture and the 2011 winner of the Hiett Prize in the Humanities, awarded by the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture. Her second book, Mind over Memes: Passive Listening, Toxic Talk, and Other Modern Language Follies, was published by Rowman & Littlefield in October 2018. In February 2022, Deep Vellum will publish her translation of Gyula Jenei's 2018 poetry collection Mindig Más.

    Since November 2017, she has been teaching English, American civilization, and British civilization at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium in Szolnok, Hungary. From 2011 to 2016, she helped shape and teach the philosophy program at Columbia Secondary School for Math, Science & Engineering in New York City. In 2014, she and her students founded the philosophy journal CONTRARIWISE, which now has international participation and readership. In 2020, at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium, she and her students released the first issue of the online literary journal Folyosó.

  • INTERVIEWS AND TALKS

    On April 26, 2016, Diana Senechal delivered her talk "Take Away the Takeaway (Including This One)" at TEDx Upper West Side.
     

    Here is a video from the Dallas Institute's 2015 Education Forum.  Also see the video "Hiett Prize Winners Discuss the Future of the Humanities." 

    On April 19–21, 2014, Diana Senechal took part in a discussion of solitude on BBC World Service's programme The Forum.  

    On February 22, 2013, Diana Senechal was interviewed by Leah Wescott, editor-in-chief of The Cronk of Higher Education. Here is the podcast.

  • ABOUT THIS BLOG

    All blog contents are copyright © Diana Senechal. Anything on this blog may be quoted with proper attribution. Comments are welcome.

    On this blog, Take Away the Takeaway, I discuss literature, music, education, and other things. Some of the pieces are satirical and assigned (for clarity) to the satire category.

    When I revise a piece substantially after posting it, I note this at the end. Minor corrections (e.g., of punctuation and spelling) may go unannounced.

    Speaking of imperfection, my other blog, Megfogalmazások, abounds with imperfect Hungarian.

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