Beard and Wilson define experiential learning as “the sense-making process of active engagement between the inner world of the person and the outer world of the environment” (p. 19). It is during this sense-making process that a state of dissonance can develop and that change will most readily occur. However, change does not happen solely through experience. If an experience serves solely to confirm already held beliefs, it won’t serve as a catalyst of change. Instead, it will simply reinforce the individual’s current cognitive processes (Beard & Wilson, p. 20).
It seems to me that the facilitator’s goal during an experience should be to assure that learning opportunities occur during this sense-making process of active engagement. With this in mind, perhaps the facilitator must purposefully introduce a state of dissonance into the activity. Dissonance creates confusion, and “the act of restructuring or reordering to regain balance… is where change in feelings, thoughts, attitudes, and behavior patterns occur” (Luckner & Nadler, p. 23).
One way for a facilitator to create this dissonance is by holding the learning experience in an environment that is unfamiliar to the participants. This approach is commonly used in adventure programming, where the participants are placed outdoors in an unknown setting. In-patient treatment programs are also unknown settings, of course, so serve as another example of environmental dissonance being created.
This summer, I will again be leading a series of hikes with my clients. One goal of these hikes is to place them into unknown settings. Opportunities like summer hikes are often scare scarce or seasonal in many clinical settings. That means it is important to look for other ways to create dissonance. Presenting experiences with uncertain outcomes can do this.
Ropes courses and initiative activities are example of this, since participants are unsure if they will be able to successfully complete the challenge. In my experience, some clinicians only use activities that they know the participants will be able to successfully complete. I believe this is appropriate for some clinical applications of experiential learning, such as illustrating a concept or improving group cohesion (see my post “Experiential Activities in Clinical Settings,” November 2008).
However, I strongly believe doing this is a sort of codependency that is not in the best interest of the participants. For teens in treatment, failure is a real possibility and avoiding experiences with unknown outcomes is a disservice. In fact, I strongly believe that the greatest learning can come from a failed activity—as long as it is adequately and appropriately processed. In a treatment setting, it is easy to connect failed or uncompleted activities to relapse, but there are many other rich processing possibilities.
Presenting the Possibility of Success
Whatever the experience, it is the unknown aspects of the activity that force the participant to leave her Comfort Zone and enter into a state of dissonance (Priest & Gass, p. 146). Through successful completion of an activity, through going outside a position of comfort, the participant’s dissonance will decrease. For example, when on a challenging mountain hike, a timid or fearful participant is likely to expect a negative outcome. Perhaps he will fail at the activity, perhaps he will be injured, perhaps he will not be as good as his peers, or perhaps a wild animal will attack.
When none of these negative outcomes occur, the participant is confronted with a new indisputable possibility: perhaps he can be successful. As a result, he is presented an opportunity to alter his future expectations. If an opportunity is also presented to generalize this learning, these changed expectations may be extended to all dimensions of his life.
A former client, Marie, serves as a useful example. Although not fearful, she was extremely resistant to the weekly hikes that were part of her inpatient treatment program. On a couple occasions, she claimed to be sick in an effort to avoid them. Throughout the hike, she would make negative comments, stating she could not or would not go any further. One time, she actually sat down on the side of the trail and for nearly 30 minutes refused to continue. However, when we hiked Little Si, one of the most difficult hikes we made and one of her last outings while in treatment, she actually encouraged other clients by saying, “If you can complete this hike, you can stay clean!”
Priest and Gass wrote, “The mastery or competence produced by successfully resolving the adaptive dissonance presented by a situation motivates behavior change” (p. 152). This motivation to change her behavior can be seen in Marie. Through the weekly outings, not only did she come to believe that she was able to successfully complete even a challenging hike, she took on a leadership role by becoming a source of encouragement to her peers. Indeed she went a step further, connecting her ability to complete the hike to her ability to accomplish other difficult goals, such as staying clean.
Luckner and Nadler wrote that central to experiential education is the idea that “we encourage people to try things that they wouldn’t generally do on their own. In other words, they leave their safe, familiar, comfortable and predictable world for uncomfortable new territory” (p. 28). This is certainly true also for substance abuse treatment! With that in mind, I frequently talk with my clients about Growth Zones, a model common in experiential learning. In my version, these three concentric circles consist of the individual’s Comfort Zone in the middle, then the Change Zone as the middle ring, and the Crisis Zone as the outside ring.
By default, an individual’s Comfort Zone contains only what is already known, feels safe, and presents no challenges or distress. It is only when an individual leaves his Comfort Zone that learning and change can occur. By doing this, though, dissonance is created, and with the dissonance comes discomfort. By working to eliminate the discomfort caused by the dissonance experienced when leaving your Comfort Zone, the change process can occur. This is true even with resistant participants like Marie, who are initially unwilling to even consider leaving her Comfort Zone.
The Role of Self-Efficacy
Important to this change process is the idea of self-efficacy. Perceptions of self-efficacy have three dimensions: magnitude, strength, and generality. Magnitude refers to the level of certainty the individual has for success (Priest & Gass, p. 55). This is primarily influenced by the participant’s perceptions of risk, as well as the perceived difficulty of the experience. Many experiential learning activities are purposefully designed to present a high apparent risk level.
This perceived risk often includes both the risk of failure and physical risks. I have heard ropes course participants say, “We can’t do this” or “I’ll break my leg if I even try that!” As important as a perceived risk of possible failure or injury is the possibility of social risks, or looking inadequate or incapable in front of peers. With all three perceived risks, successful completion of an activity that initially seemed impossible has a high likelihood of increasing perceptions of self-efficacy. Marie perceived our weekly hikes as highly challenging in all three ways. As such, her repeated successes on these hikes dramatically increased the magnitude of her self-efficacy.
Strength reflects how long a person holds onto expectations of success despite contradictory information (Priest & Gass p. 55). A history of succeeding after multiple unsuccessful attempts can play an important role in building strength. Although Marie completed every hike she participated, she frequently reported, “I’m just not good at outdoor stuff. That’s why I hate nature.” Her past experiences clearly influenced her perceptions of her own ability. However, through her repeated successes on hikes while in treatment, she was able to move past her unusual self-limiting beliefs, thereby contributed to the strength of her self-efficacy.
Generality refers to the degree of an individual’s transfer of self-efficacy beliefs from one situation to another (Priest & Gass, p. 55). Transfer is the integration of learning from the adventure program into the participant’s life (Priest & Gass, p. 184). In clinical setting, I believe this is the most important concept of the three, and an area when strong facilitation skills are especially vital. To assure that change happens as a result of participation in an experience, transfer of learning must occur.
For Marie, successfully working through her own dissonance provided an important opportunity for her to increase her sense of self-efficacy. As this increased, her engagement in processing grew. Initially, she would say little during debriefing sessions, even when called on directly. Toward the end of her treatment, not only was she increasingly vocal during debriefings, during hikes she actively encouraged her struggling peers.
“When clients enter into adventure programs that focus on change, they may strongly resist [that] change… Adventure experiences often reduce such resistance by placing clients in situations that are new and unique, yet supportive” (Priest & Gass, p. 148). Marie’s initial resistance to change is clearly evident. She was taken out of her Comfort Zone, and repeatedly placed into new and unique situations that she considered risky. In her efforts to reduce the dissonance she felt, she was forced to reconsider her preconceived views. Through opportunities to process her experiences, she generalized her learning to other areas of her life and began to believe in her ability to accomplish other meaningful goals, such as staying clean after treatment.
Works Cited
Beard, C. & Gross, J. Experiential Learning: A Best Practice Handbook for Educators and Trainers. Philadelphia: Kogan Page, 2006.
Luckner, J. & Nadler, R. Processing the Experience. Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt Publishing Co., 1997.
Priest, S. & Gross, M. Effective Leadership in Adventure Programming. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 2005.
Showing posts with label clinical applications of experiential learning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clinical applications of experiential learning. Show all posts
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
It’s About The Climb, Not The Destination
In all forms of experiential education, transfer of learning is considered a vital part of the process. Necessary for fostering change, this transfer involves the integration of learning from the experience into the participant’s life (Priest & Gass), in order to allow for generalizing that experience to daily events. In other words, in clinical settings transfer of learning answers the question, “What does this have to do with recovery?”
To assure transfer of learning occurs, processing is an essential component of all experiential education programs (Luckner & Nadler, p. 8). In their book, The Processing Pinnacle, Simpson, Miller and Bocher identify a variety of goals when processing. I believe that most important of these in a clinical setting are assuring participants understand the lessons of the experience, analyzing and synthesizing the action, helping give the experience permanence, and transferring the learning to daily life (p. 19).
To help assure these goals are met, the authors present a model they call “the processing pinnacle,” an approach they initially present as a continuum and then later transform into a mountain. At one end is facilitator-centered processing with the leader retaining complete control of the processing. At the other end of the continuum is participant-centered processing, with all processing tasks relinquished by the leader (p. 59).
The authors identified four specific points along this continuum: facilitator frontloading, traditional question and answer, participant-directed processing, and independent reflection.
Facilitator Frontloading
Facilitator front-loading is farthest to the facilitator-centered side of the continuum. In this approach, the leader explicitly states the purpose of the activity before it even takes place, spelling out exactly what will be experienced and learned. When frontloading occurs, reflection generally happens throughout the activity, either during pauses for discussion or as the activity proceeds (p. 59).
As I initially read this book, facilitator frontloading seemed heavy-handed to me, and I didn’t think it fit at all with my personal facilitator style. However, I do frequently use metaphors as a way to frontload an activity, and that use often shapes the experience for the participants. In addition, I always do a lot of in-the-moment processing.
For example, I sometimes frame Trolleys, a common experiential activity, with recovery metaphors, giving participants the task of crossing the Sea of Relapse using the skills they have learned in treatment (the trolleys themselves) and arriving at the finish line, Long-Term Sobriety.
To me, this type of metaphor-rich framing isn’t necessarily as heavy handed as the authors’ definition initially seems. However, it certainly fulfills their definition. In discussing the use of metaphor in frontloading, they state, “The more ways and more times that a metaphor gets linked to everyday life, the more effective it will be” (p. 88). For example, during Trolleys-As-Recovery, I encourage participants to take things “one step at a time” and to not “future-trip” about getting to the end.
In some settings, this sort of predetermined shaping of the activity could clearly limit outcomes. However, when frontloading isn’t heavy-handed, it seems to me that this processing approach can be extremely appropriate within a clinical context where a specific goal has usually been determined in advance. Indeed, moving participants toward a specific goal is most often the point for doing an activity.
Traditional Q & A
The next on the continuum is traditional question and answer, in which the facilitator leads a discussion following the activity. This discussion includes input from both the facilitator and the participants, but is leader-driven. The leader chooses the questions, calls on specific participants, and guides the discussion in a predetermined direction (Simpson, Miller & Bocher, p. 60).
The authors state that this is the most common of all processing styles, but in clinical settings I attempt to avoid this traditional question and answer approach entirely. I’ve found that with youth in treatment, it is usually most effective to provide some structure to the processing. However, I want to do this in a way that isn’t facilitator-oriented. In my experience, participant-directed processing approaches work well for balancing these seemly contradictory goals.
Participant-Directed Processing
This third point on the continuum involves processing where “the direction of the discussion and reflection is determined by the participants, not the facilitator” (Simpson, Miller & Bocher, 2006, p. 61). One example of this approach is processing cards.
About a two year ago, I started using Chiji Processing Cards, a deck of 48 cards with different images on them such as a lighthouse, a compass, and a piece of shattered pottery. The most typical way to use these cards as a processing tool is to spread them out and ask participants to “pick a card that represents your role in the group today” or a similar prompt. I have found these cards to be a powerful processing tool, encouraging even the most reluctant participants to speak.
Teens in treatment can sometimes be challenging to get talking, and it seems to me that this approach helps that to happen. As such, I use a lot of other participant-directed and active processing approaches. I have another post on this blog -- Talking Despite Themselves -- that addresses this topic in more detail.
Independent Reflection
The final point on the processing continuum, independent reflection, is what the authors called “processing in the intentional absence of formal processing” (p. 60). In Outward Bound, this approach is common and frequently referred to as “letting the mountain speak for itself.” I feel there may be times, places, and participant populations were this approach is appropriate. However, it seems to me that not providing a formal processing opportunity of some type in a clinical setting would be therapeutically inappropriate.
Time for transfer of learning is a necessary part of the therapeutic process, and I believe some formal processing should always occur. However, authors wrote, “Even though it might be used rarely, [independent processing] is the appropriate processing methodology when a particular set of conditions has been met” (p. 125). They define these conditions as an appropriate setting, that participants have a strong commitment to the experience, that participants have the requisite knowledge to understand the significance of an experience, and that the group has prior training in processing.
I suppose that if these four conditions were all present in the entire participant population, it might be appropriate to have the group sit quietly on a mountain top watching a sunset and consider that a processing experience. Even then, though, the counselor in me would follow up the independent reflection time with a short group process of it.
Climbing the Mountain
I see processing as an important part of experiential learning. In fact, it may be the most important part, since it provides participants the opportunity to develop awareness, identify thinking patterns, and practice mindfulness—all skills I believe essential for recovery. In a clinical setting, it seems to me that the activity is often less important than the processing opportunities it provides. In other words, climbing a mountain is not about reaching the pinnacle, but about what happens along the way.
Early in the book, the authors wrote, “According to Chinese Tao thinking, action and reflection cannot exist without each other” (p. 18). I found this book interesting and practical in many ways, providing a comprehensive system for viewing various processing methodologies. Independent reflection is one extreme end of a spectrum, and fostering movement toward independent processing has obvious value. After all, a client will eventually no longer be a client, and the skills learned in a clinical context need to transfer to life.
That said, the authors failed to convince me that achieving independent reflection should be the ultimate goal of processing, at least within a clinical context. Getting to the pinnacle is not what’s important in a learning experience. Working toward the pinnacle is. Without a formal processing experience of some sort, it seems to me that this dialectic of action and reflection will not be assured, and transfer of learning may not occur.
Work Cited
Luckner, J., and Nadler, R. (1997). Processing the Experience. Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt Publishing Company.
Priest, S., and Gross, M. (2005). Effective Leadership in Adventure Programming. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Simpson, S., Miller, D., and Bocher, B. (2006). The Processing Pinnacle. Oklahoma City, OK: Wood’n’Barnes.
To assure transfer of learning occurs, processing is an essential component of all experiential education programs (Luckner & Nadler, p. 8). In their book, The Processing Pinnacle, Simpson, Miller and Bocher identify a variety of goals when processing. I believe that most important of these in a clinical setting are assuring participants understand the lessons of the experience, analyzing and synthesizing the action, helping give the experience permanence, and transferring the learning to daily life (p. 19).
To help assure these goals are met, the authors present a model they call “the processing pinnacle,” an approach they initially present as a continuum and then later transform into a mountain. At one end is facilitator-centered processing with the leader retaining complete control of the processing. At the other end of the continuum is participant-centered processing, with all processing tasks relinquished by the leader (p. 59).
The authors identified four specific points along this continuum: facilitator frontloading, traditional question and answer, participant-directed processing, and independent reflection.
Facilitator Frontloading
Facilitator front-loading is farthest to the facilitator-centered side of the continuum. In this approach, the leader explicitly states the purpose of the activity before it even takes place, spelling out exactly what will be experienced and learned. When frontloading occurs, reflection generally happens throughout the activity, either during pauses for discussion or as the activity proceeds (p. 59).
As I initially read this book, facilitator frontloading seemed heavy-handed to me, and I didn’t think it fit at all with my personal facilitator style. However, I do frequently use metaphors as a way to frontload an activity, and that use often shapes the experience for the participants. In addition, I always do a lot of in-the-moment processing.
For example, I sometimes frame Trolleys, a common experiential activity, with recovery metaphors, giving participants the task of crossing the Sea of Relapse using the skills they have learned in treatment (the trolleys themselves) and arriving at the finish line, Long-Term Sobriety.
To me, this type of metaphor-rich framing isn’t necessarily as heavy handed as the authors’ definition initially seems. However, it certainly fulfills their definition. In discussing the use of metaphor in frontloading, they state, “The more ways and more times that a metaphor gets linked to everyday life, the more effective it will be” (p. 88). For example, during Trolleys-As-Recovery, I encourage participants to take things “one step at a time” and to not “future-trip” about getting to the end.
In some settings, this sort of predetermined shaping of the activity could clearly limit outcomes. However, when frontloading isn’t heavy-handed, it seems to me that this processing approach can be extremely appropriate within a clinical context where a specific goal has usually been determined in advance. Indeed, moving participants toward a specific goal is most often the point for doing an activity.
Traditional Q & A
The next on the continuum is traditional question and answer, in which the facilitator leads a discussion following the activity. This discussion includes input from both the facilitator and the participants, but is leader-driven. The leader chooses the questions, calls on specific participants, and guides the discussion in a predetermined direction (Simpson, Miller & Bocher, p. 60).
The authors state that this is the most common of all processing styles, but in clinical settings I attempt to avoid this traditional question and answer approach entirely. I’ve found that with youth in treatment, it is usually most effective to provide some structure to the processing. However, I want to do this in a way that isn’t facilitator-oriented. In my experience, participant-directed processing approaches work well for balancing these seemly contradictory goals.
Participant-Directed Processing
This third point on the continuum involves processing where “the direction of the discussion and reflection is determined by the participants, not the facilitator” (Simpson, Miller & Bocher, 2006, p. 61). One example of this approach is processing cards.
About a two year ago, I started using Chiji Processing Cards, a deck of 48 cards with different images on them such as a lighthouse, a compass, and a piece of shattered pottery. The most typical way to use these cards as a processing tool is to spread them out and ask participants to “pick a card that represents your role in the group today” or a similar prompt. I have found these cards to be a powerful processing tool, encouraging even the most reluctant participants to speak.
Teens in treatment can sometimes be challenging to get talking, and it seems to me that this approach helps that to happen. As such, I use a lot of other participant-directed and active processing approaches. I have another post on this blog -- Talking Despite Themselves -- that addresses this topic in more detail.
Independent Reflection
The final point on the processing continuum, independent reflection, is what the authors called “processing in the intentional absence of formal processing” (p. 60). In Outward Bound, this approach is common and frequently referred to as “letting the mountain speak for itself.” I feel there may be times, places, and participant populations were this approach is appropriate. However, it seems to me that not providing a formal processing opportunity of some type in a clinical setting would be therapeutically inappropriate.
Time for transfer of learning is a necessary part of the therapeutic process, and I believe some formal processing should always occur. However, authors wrote, “Even though it might be used rarely, [independent processing] is the appropriate processing methodology when a particular set of conditions has been met” (p. 125). They define these conditions as an appropriate setting, that participants have a strong commitment to the experience, that participants have the requisite knowledge to understand the significance of an experience, and that the group has prior training in processing.
I suppose that if these four conditions were all present in the entire participant population, it might be appropriate to have the group sit quietly on a mountain top watching a sunset and consider that a processing experience. Even then, though, the counselor in me would follow up the independent reflection time with a short group process of it.
Climbing the Mountain
I see processing as an important part of experiential learning. In fact, it may be the most important part, since it provides participants the opportunity to develop awareness, identify thinking patterns, and practice mindfulness—all skills I believe essential for recovery. In a clinical setting, it seems to me that the activity is often less important than the processing opportunities it provides. In other words, climbing a mountain is not about reaching the pinnacle, but about what happens along the way.
Early in the book, the authors wrote, “According to Chinese Tao thinking, action and reflection cannot exist without each other” (p. 18). I found this book interesting and practical in many ways, providing a comprehensive system for viewing various processing methodologies. Independent reflection is one extreme end of a spectrum, and fostering movement toward independent processing has obvious value. After all, a client will eventually no longer be a client, and the skills learned in a clinical context need to transfer to life.
That said, the authors failed to convince me that achieving independent reflection should be the ultimate goal of processing, at least within a clinical context. Getting to the pinnacle is not what’s important in a learning experience. Working toward the pinnacle is. Without a formal processing experience of some sort, it seems to me that this dialectic of action and reflection will not be assured, and transfer of learning may not occur.
Work Cited
Luckner, J., and Nadler, R. (1997). Processing the Experience. Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt Publishing Company.
Priest, S., and Gross, M. (2005). Effective Leadership in Adventure Programming. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Simpson, S., Miller, D., and Bocher, B. (2006). The Processing Pinnacle. Oklahoma City, OK: Wood’n’Barnes.
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