February 22, 1999
Connections Essay #1
Taking the "Magic" Out of Expert Performance:
Toward a Realistic Appraisal
of the Experts
As a school psychologist in training, much of my education has focused upon learning to conduct psychological assessments with school-age children. In the course of my four years in the school psychology training program, I have been taught in a variety of ways to think in a variety of ways about the psychological assessment and diagnosis of children. In essence, the purpose of the school psychology program, in large part, is to turn novices in the area of psychological diagnosis into experts. The idea of "changing" assessment novices into experts brings to mind a magician with a magic wand who mysteriously imparts the "all-knowing way of the expert school psychologist" into the eagerly awaiting neophyte. Certainly, when I entered the school psychology program, my professors seemingly were cloaked in an air of mystery, able to perform complex feats of assessment and diagnosis as if by magic.
Pressley’s discussion of experts (in Chapter 4, The Role of Knowledge in Cognition), particularly his comparison of experts and novices, made me think a lot about my own transition from novice to expert (well, more like "expert in training") in the domain of psychological assessment. What struck me especially, was the common misconception that experts must be particularly smart people. In my own case, along with the notion of "magic," it was difficult to dismiss that my professors possessed some innate quality (e.g., intelligence) that made them experts in the area of psychological assessment. What I realize now, near the close of my training (give or take a few years), is that a great deal of my instruction has involved the deconstruction of that initial sense of "magic" into a systematic, albeit complex, method. Along with the deconstruction of the notion of "magic" came the belief that I can learn and become "expert" in achieving this method as well. As an assessment expert in training, I now view my professors with the deep respect that their expertise comes from years of practice (something I can accomplish) instead of with the awe-struck wonder that they possess some sort of innate "magic" (something that I would have to be born with).
The concept of experts possessing innate qualities that enable them to excel certainly extends to domains outside of academics. One area that comes immediately to my mind is athletics. Most people can remember when Michael Jordan retired (the first time) from basketball at the pinnacle of his career to embark upon a career in baseball. Most people had (and many still have) the notion that Michael Jordan possessed an innate, extrordinary athletic ability. Some considered him a "body genius." Yet Michael Jordan never proved to be better than an average minor league baseball player, and no one has ever suggested that he try out for football. The public might have done well to consider Glaser and Chi’s (1988) finding that "experts excel mainly in their own domains" (Pressley, p. 88). Then the fact remains that Michael Jordan did not make the cut to be on his high school basketball team the first time around. Why does the public tend to view professional athletes as possessing innate athletic abilities? Expert performance is extremely salient, especially in today’s world of sports highlights and instant replays. What the public sees time and time again is Michael Jordan weaving his way around the court and dunking on his opponents. What the public does not see is the years of preparation and Michael Jordan’s prior knowledge about basketball moves, plays, defense, and offense. What the public does not see are Michael Jordan’s complex schemata regarding myriad formations of players on the basketball court that have developed over years of practice. In expert performance, what the public sees is an action or a behavior. If the public were somehow able to gain access inner workings of Michael Jordan’s brain during a basketball game, what I suspect they would discover is an ongoing, complex, interactive, and sophisticated analysis of the situation on the basketball court much like Pressely’s description of the horse handicapper’s analysis.
Perhaps the most vexing part of regarding expert performance as "magic" is the dampening impact this belief has on a novice’s motivation. Growing up as a skinny, clumsy child, I harbored the belief that my athletic peers possessed an innate "body genius" or kinesthetic intelligence of which I did not have any part of within myself. Because of my perception that I did not have any innate athletic ability, I avoided sports whenever possible. Over time, my avoidance (stemming from a lack of motivation caused by an entity view of athletic ability) served only to exacerbate the discrepancy between me and my athletic peers (who were practicing baseball and football whenever possible). Fortunately, my desire to be recognized by my peers in the domain of athletics drove me to attempt, practice, and eventually excel in less mainstream sports such as karate and skiing. Although I have expert status in these specific sports, I still avoid playing baseball or football.
Certainly, my early experience
with sports parallels that of many learning disabled children who give
up in school because they believe they lack innate intelligence which can
not be changed. Like myself, learning disabled children may find alternative
routes to fulfill their need to be recognized by peers. Unfortunately,
children who experience failure in the academic arena may turn to delinquency
and crime as domains in which to gain recognition.