I Hate This Step! - by Jane Everham
Decades ago, before I started writing, I learned the Incompetent-Competent continuum for acquiring a new skill. The continuum is a staircase with four risers. The bottom step is called Unconscious Incompetence, a.k.a. “ignorance is bliss.” Then comes Conscious Incompetence; you are incompetent, and you know it. Next is Conscious Competence; you are starting to get it right, but it feels awkward and forced. And the last is Unconscious Competence; you just perform–naturally and authentically. It seems like a short climb, but it can be treacherous and often requires painstaking effort. When I retired and decided to learn to write, I stood at the bottom of the staircase and looked up.
At first, the continuum is more like a maniacal escalator–one minute you are leaping forward and, the next, running in reverse. The only redeeming quality is realizing that, once you leave Unconscious Incompetence, there is no going back. You can fall back to being incompetent, but you always know it. Painful!
For example, in graduate school when I first learned the skill of active listening, a technique for communicating understanding and empathy, I eagerly and naively “active listened” to everyone, drawing plenty of odd looks. “I hear you saying your day is very busy” I would say to a store cashier just offering idle chit-chat. Mortifying! Being on the awkward Step Two of the Competent-Incompetent Continuum offers great motivation for advancing to Step Three, Conscious Competence, acknowledging your own developing skills. In time, for example, I noticed myself using active listening correctly. “I hear you are upset, and I understand your frustration.” It is a satisfying leap to step three, and landing there provides respite, a chance to look back with pride. With continuing practice, one day I found myself on that top stair of active listening, and it comes naturally to me now.
A new staircase appears whenever we seek to learn a complicated new skill. When I tried to learn to windsurf, I was dunked over and over for four days. Then I got the hang of it only to discover I really did not have the upper-body strength to advance. I took pride in sticking it out and was not terribly disappointed to move on.
When I started on the path of becoming a writer, I found myself back on that most dreaded second step. “I’m lousy at this and I know it. I HATE THIS STEP!,” I thought. I could have chosen an easy out. I could have stepped off the staircase and tried a simpler activity. But no, life without challenge is boring, and quitting is not an option.
Writing can be arduous and lonely, but I am drawn to telling my stories. There are many rewards to writing: an essay completed, a shared blog, peer praise. I have stumbled on this journey, but I know I will never fall completely. When I don’t like where I am on the continuum, I say to myself, “Hang in there, keep breathing, and–with pen to paper–reach for the next step.”
We all have our staircase, what is yours?
I grew up in the Chicago suburbs in the 50's and 60's. I moved to Colorado to attend Denver University and with two exceptions (a year of study abroad in Spain and a year as a flight attendant in Miami), I have lived in Ft. Collins, Colorado with no intentions of ever leaving. After earning an Educational Specialist degree in School Psychology at UNC, I worked for 34 years in the public schools in Cheyenne, Wyoming and Fort Collins, Colorado.
After retirement in 2011, I have been kept out of trouble with active volunteering with the Larimer League of Women Voters, Foothills Unitarian Church, and progressive politics wherever I can find them. I love to have lunch with friends, read voraciously, and travel.
