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Paying attention...I wish I was better at it

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Paying attention...I wish I was better at it

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When I ever I decide not to make the trek in the cold to the library and study at my apartment instead, I always regret it. I love my room mates but I have learned over the years that I am one of the most easily distracted people I know. Even when they are just making dinner or chatting with each other I can not seem to maintain my attention on my homework. Places like coffee shops or the union  I've basically given up on as well as they make paying attention just as hard for me. Outside distractions like loud noises from my roommates are examples of involuntary inputs or tasks, meaning I do not make a conscious effort to focus on this inputs. On the other hand, when I do try and interact with my room mates or others while I am studying my attentional focus would be intentional. I have found that the only way I can be productive it so go to the library all by myself and find a quiet spot to do my work.

One way this dilemma could be explained is by the central-resources theory. This theory states that there is a central reserve of resources for which all activities compete. When two tasks require more attention than what is available in your central reserve, then one or both will be negatively affected. In the case of me attempting (but failing) to study and interact with my room mates at the same time, my central reserve capacity is exceeded and my both my studying and attention to my room mates is affected. This can be defined as interference, or when the central capacity limitations have been exceeded.

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All throughout high school track and field I trained for the high jump event. At first I was absolutely horrendous. I rarely even participated in meets because I could not make the starting height. However,  after a couple years of daily practice I had improved greatly. I began competing in every meet and even won once or twice.

When I began learning this skill, it was easy to describe exactly what I was doing. The movement used to high jump was completely new to me and nothing came naturally. When I practiced I replayed the steps continuously in my mind. I know now that I was utilizing my declarative memory system, which is the the memory of facts and events and can be consciously recalled (Lecture, 2017). However, as I practiced every day the motion became more natural to me. I no longer focused on the motion needed for the skill but ways to improve me height. I stopped focusing on how this skill was preformed and instead started detecting my errors and ways I could improve. I was utilizing my procedural knowledge. This type of knowledge stores the information for how to perform certain skills such as riding a bike. This type of memory system is responsible for knowing how to reform motor skills (Lecture, 2017).

During the first track practice of my junior year, I still distinctly remember my coach asking me to help my team mate learn to high jump. I was confident enough in my skill that initially this seemed like an easy task. However, as I began trying to explain  the motion needed to high jump I found I could not figure out how to say it. Instead, I opted to just demonstrate the motion instead--which was much easier.

This problem is routed in the difference between declarative and procedural memory system. The idea of "choking under pressure" or in my case simply not being able to explain the motion anymore, occurs when experts attempt to harness declarative memories in the execution of a skill that has long since been encoded in procedural form (Lecture, 2017). I could easily not think about the motion and just preform the skill but when I attempted to explain the skill verbally, using my declarative knowledge, I found I was unable.

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Hockey is an incredibly fast paced sport in which you have to be aware of your surroundings at all time. From the moment the referee drops the puck, the game is in full swing. Your team mates are moving left and right, your opponents are skating quickly towards you, and the puck is flying across the ice. When you do finally find yourself in the position to receive a pass, shoot the puck, or check your opponent how do you decide when to time your movements?

The idea of "tau" is a concept I was unfamiliar with before I took this class. How did I decide when to shoot the puck? How close was I to my opponent before I decided to check them? Thinking back, I am not exactly sure but somehow I just knew. So how was I able to? Tau is the idea of determining when to contact and is defined by the inverse of the rate of expansion of an image on your retina. A more simplistic way to think about it is how an object expands in your vision as it moves closer and closer to you. At a critical moment of tau, an event is trigged such as checking your opponent into the boards or moving your stick to receive a pass.

In hockey, tau is a very useful concept. It helps the players position their bodies and hockey sticks in order to play effectively when their surroundings are moving so quickly. Even though I did not know what this concept was during my time playing hockey, I sure am thankful I was able to utilize it.

My mom sent me this picture below a few weeks ago. It was taken at my very first hockey practice. I did not have any of the right hockey equipment yet so insisted on wearing pink snow pants and figure skates

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Cross country skiing and hockey... an effective combination

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Cross country skiing and hockey... an effective combination

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When I was five years, my younger brother started playing hockey and I decided to give figure skating a try. I liked it but I looked on jealously when my little brother starting receiving hockey equipment left and right. Santa brought him a helmet, a stick, pads, a jersey, hockey skates, a hockey bag while meanwhile I only received a pair of skates. It was then that I decided I wanted to play hockey too.

Nine years later and I was still playing. However, as I got older I slowly decided to lose interest. Once I started high school I realized I didn't like it as much as I had so I quit and joined the cross country ski team with my friends instead. On the first day of practice on snow, we all strapped on our skis and headed out to the trail. I watched my friends struggle and fall and hesitantly I tried out the new skill myself. However, very quickly I learned cross country skiing was actually quite easy for me. In only a few minutes I was skiing ahead of my friends and trying to convince them this was my first time on skis.

I realized that almost ten years of playing hockey had provided me with skills to excel in cross country in a phenomenon knows as positive transfer. According to lecture, transfer is defined as the gain (or loss) in proficiency of one skill as the result of practice on some other skill. Despite the differences in cross country skiing and hockey, they share many of the same component parts such as balance on narrow blades (skates versus skis), and a similar gliding motion. Both skills also utilized similar patterns of muscular forces such as the muscles used to propel myself along the ice and snow. According to the Identical elements theory, when two skills share similar elements such as the ones described, positive transfer is likely to occur.

Despite not being as interested in playing hockey as I once was, I was very thankful it had provided me with the elements to enjoy a different winter sport. Below is a picture of the cross country ski trails I practiced on every week in the Kettle Moraine.

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Teaching four- and five-year-olds ballet is no easy task. After three years of teaching "Itty Bitty" ballet at the YMCA, I have a newfound respect for elementary teachers everywhere. Beyond just capturing their attention--which was much harder than I thought it would be--I also had to somehow teach them skills that they could preform on stage in front of an audience. Let me tell you, never have I been as stressed during my own ballet performances as I was watching my little ballet dancers march onto the stage.

On a good day, when I was able to gain their attention and start to teach them ballet steps, a new challenge would arise. Granted, I expected that their technique would not be perfect, but some of my dancers made me realize I set even my lowest bar too high. So, how could I tell them all the things they needed to improve on without making them want to quit? Because, being honest, four and five years old aren't the best at taking criticism.

Augmented feedback is the added information to the inherent feedback my students were already obtaining. In ballet, comments and criticism is an essential part of learning--especially for beginners.

In deciding on how to approach the clearly lacking skill in some of my students, I decided on an approach that I now know as the "sandwich technique." Rather than critiquing the placement of their arms, their rhythm, their foot position, their spacing... all at once, I instead focused on what they were doing well first. For example, "Isabelle, you are leaping so high today! Great job." A compliment like this can cause a little dancer to beam in front of her classmates. Once she knows what she is doing well, I consider the numerous other components of her skill that she needs to improve on. I quickly organize them from most important to least important and begin by telling her the most important part of her skill she needs to work on. For example, "however, even though you are leaping so high, you cant forget about your arms when you are in the air. Make sure you keep them above you head." After critiquing her skill, I finish giving her feedback by saying something positive and motivational.
I found by using this technique I was able to avoid discouraging my students and keep them happy and giggling in the mirror. Because, after all, when you are four years old, technique is not something you are really concerned about.