Learning happens in the most unexpected places and in the more unanticipated ways. I once asked my students to share something they had learned in this manner, from someone or some situation that might not have been considered a conventional learning space. Among the several interesting stories that came up, were: learning how to chop onions from a roadside chaat vendor; learning how to wash clothes efficiently; learning the true value of money (after it had run out, when out alone late at night). The learning happened in two ways — by looking at something closely and by thinking about it.
We’re all familiar with the idea that we are learning constantly, in conscious and unconscious ways, in directed and open-ended ways, from what we see, hear, feel, touch and otherwise experience. As children, we seem to be able to learn from watching and imitating, or simply by trying and failing and trying again. We are intrigued by the process and can examine something for hours, looking at it. However, we seem to grow out of our ability to notice things, to bring to the forefront of our minds the meanings and lessons that can be derived from our senses.
A friend who teaches art history recently told me about the practice of “slow looking” that calls for one to observe a work of art in an unhurried, close and detailed manner. Students are required to spend a length of time looking at a painting or a sculpture, from one position, before discussing it. When visiting a museum, instead of walking by paintings with no more than a quick glance at each, they had to stand for at least five minutes in front of each frame, taking it in and thinking about it, before moving on. I heard about this again from a poet who was forced to engage in slow looking when she was confined to bed following an accident. She had the time to look closely at people and the way they interacted with each other, or how they carried themselves. She became familiar with the way the light fell on objects and illuminated them in specific ways at different times of day. She learned to read people’s moods from the tiniest shifts in their voices and expressions. Her poetry was enriched and enlivened by the insights gained from this slow looking.
So, would it be possible to apply the idea of slow looking in other areas as well? What it implies is a deliberate, deep engagement with the moment, a commitment to settling down and locking our minds in place, an agreement to withhold our attention from the clock or phone and instead direct it at the object or activity concerned. Shari Tishman, a researcher at the Harvard School of Education, notes, “The more you look, the more you see; the more you see, the more interesting the object becomes.” And as it becomes more interesting, you are able to better understand its structure and to ask questions that would take you to a deeper level of understanding.
I would suggest that the act of slow looking be taken beyond museum visits. When reading a text, for example, following this method would require that we read slowly and carefully, lingering over phrases and words, focusing closely on structure, style and the meaning that emerges not only from the words but in the ways they are positioned. One slow reading would probably be more revealing than several rushed reviews, and we are more likely to remember the text and gain a fuller understanding of its nuances. In the chemistry lab, taking the time to really observe, rather than only “do” could again yield new insights, while in physics class, keenly listening to the gongs of the tuning fork (for example) could help us better appreciate the minute differences in frequency. Slowing down also allows us to come up with new ideas and solutions to problems, as the detailed observation makes visible the precise shape of a gap.
One might ask, who has the time for slowness when we are constantly being chased by deadlines, and there is a pressure to accomplish much more in a shorter time span? Can we really afford the time needed to dwell on one thing to the exclusion of others?
Maybe not.
But the way could be to select a few objects — or a few key articles — and apply the slow-looking method to those. Prioritise the readings in such a way that the main themes of interest are given more time. Most likely, the papers are all inter-related, and the learning acquired in the key articles can be applied elsewhere too.
You see, slowing down actually stretches the moment. It opens it up to discovery and debate. And it leads the way to real understanding.
The author teaches at the University of Hyderabad and edits Teacher Plus. Email: usha.bpgll@gmail.com
