TJ - The Publication for Learning and Development

Transferring learning can be perilous

By Peter Honey (May 2005 Issue)
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I have always considered that transferring learning from one situation to another is one of those ‘good things’ – along with eating five portions of fruit or vegetables each day and drinking two litres of water. Seeing the parallels between different situations and making connections so that the learning can be generalised is, quite rightly, hailed as one of the hallmarks of an effective learner.

This is the skill we trainers wish more people possessed as we bemoan the devastating losses incurred as people struggle, often single-handedly, to transfer learning acquired on an off-the-job course to the rough and tumble of their working situation. Classrooms tend to be learning-friendly places (and if not, why not?), whereas most workplaces are learning-hostile. I don’t believe they set out to be hostile – it’s just a ghastly accident as people are urged to keep busy and/or achieve ‘stretch’ targets. Given these priorities, it is inevitable that poor old learning – and especially the process of learning – will be sidelined, rarely attracting the attention it deserves.

It appears, therefore, that the ability to transfer learning is something we’d love to encourage through a combination of robust action plans, supported by our enthusiastic support from the touch-line in the absence, alas, of sufficient support from line-managers. But (could you sense a ‘but’ coming on?) it appears that this business of transferring learning is far from straightforward. There are numerous examples where learning has been transferred inappropriately.

Before giving you the first example, I have to digress slightly. I am old enough to have done National Service and, as a young subaltern, I was posted to Malaya at the tail end of The Emergency. The Emergency lasted for 12 years (1948–1960) and I was actively involved in 1958/9 (see what I mean about tail end?). I was in the Royal Artillery and we spent all our time clearing spaces in the jungle so that we could set up four 25-pounders and fire salvos of shells at map references we were given over the radio. Interestingly, there was a conspicuous lack of feedback, so we rarely knew whether we had been effective in harassing the communist terrorists.

Now the crazy thing is that, at tender age of 20, I didn’t really know why we were doing this; pathetically, I was just obeying orders! So, a few weeks ago, when I was in Kuala Lumpur and uncertain whether or not to admit to my past, I decided to find out what those 18 exciting but uncomfortable months of my life had been about. I read a book (better late than never!) that told me everything I’m ashamed to say I didn’t previously know about the situation in Malaya after the Second World War.1

One of the stories in the book is about a Colonel Gray who, in 1949, became a Commissioner of Police in Malaya. Previously he had enjoyed a successful spell as Inspector General of the Palestinian Police. When he arrived in Malaya he was adamant that the police should travel in canvas-sided (as opposed to armoured) vehicles. His experiences in Palestine had taught him that if police were ambushed in soft-sided vehicles, they got out quickly and engaged with the enemy. By contrast, when they were in armoured vehicles they tended to cower behind the armour plate and drive off.

However, in Malaya the conditions were quite different. The ambushes took place in deep jungle on twisting, slow-moving tracks. The attackers would fell a tree to block the track and hide just feet away in the foliage. The best policy when ambushed was to reverse at speed and then mount a counter-attack. Unfortunately the soft-sided vehicles that Colonel Gray insisted on meant that the driver was invariably incapacitated first, leaving the occupants of the stationary vehicle exposed to enemy fire. Apparently, even when armoured cars were available, Colonel Gray would not allow the trucks to be modified. His insistence on transferring the learning from Palestine and applying it to a totally different situation in Malaya meant that many lives were unnecessarily lost. Surely the most serious consequence one can imagine for obstinacy?

This is a classic example of transferring learning from one situation to another inappropriately. Be honest now, haven’t you done that? I certainly have – not, thank goodness, with fatal consequences. Years ago I worked as a lecturer in a further education (FE) college (now a university, of course!). In my two previous jobs I had learned that the first few weeks were vital if you were to create a good first impression. With this in mind, I made conscious efforts to impress my new bosses and colleagues. When I joined the staff at the FE college, I transferred this learning only discover I had made a mistake. I quickly earned a reputation as a cooperative, helpful fellow and this meant that everyone was eager to schedule me into their courses. As a consequence, my workload soared and I was soon doing double the number of student contact hours I was being paid for!

I once had a member of staff who would never admit she had made a mistake – even though she made lots! It turned out that she had previously worked in a blame culture where the last thing you ever did was admit to a mistake. Another example of learning inappropriately transferred.

All this is a salutary reminder that learning is always situational. Just because it works in one situation does not necessarily mean it will be successful in another. Appropriateness always needs to be checked.

Reference
1. Donald Mackay, The Domino That Stood – The Malayan Emergency 1948–1960, Cultured Lotus, 1997.


Dr Peter Honey, FRSA, FCIPD, FIMC is a Chartered Psychologist and founder of Peter Honey Publications. He can be contacted on +44 (0) 1628 633946, at peterhoney@peterhoney.com or visit www.peterhoney.com

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