- info@ibtc.co.uk
Roland Mann from Suffolk
course 2009/2010
So, do you like what you see?
How can I tell that a course I want to take is good or not? This is indeed a bit of a problem. I have worked in educational contexts for many years - indeed the last ten years of my life has been spent pretty much full time exploring learning, and the ways in which human beings most efficiently do this. From what I have seen so far, I feel that the IBTC has an excellent formula.
My first recommendation to anyone interested in boatbuilding is to come and visit the IBTC. I remember very clearly looking round the college in July 2009, and at the end of my visit, I bumped into Ian, the joinery instructor. He said, "So, do you like what you see?" What a good question, which pointed exactly in the right direction - what did I feel about the place? The answer was "Yes", and here I am; and I like it even more now. A visit answers a thousand questions.
The biggest question is, what do I actually want out of a course? This is more complex a question than it seems, which is why a visit to the college really helps to clarify things and also illuminate what I really want. Obviously, there is a commercial aspect - earning a living. However this is not what I want to talk about.
Superficially, one might think that the point of attending this IBTC course is to learn how to build boats. But, now in my 9th week of joinery, I see that is part of a bigger picture - and I would encourage anyone interested in building boats to think quite seriously about this issue: what draws you to boat building?
True, learning this skill is high on peoples' list of priorities, but also there is another, rather more intangible thing that seems deeply personal. I see many people here who are at a point of changing their lifestyles, or moving from one phase of their lives to another. I suppose if I were to identify what appears to be a common thread, my fellow students in joinery appear to be exploring something new. Many have little or no experience of woodworking. It really does feel like setting out on a kind of journey together. Everyone has their own unique story to tell, their experiences, hopes, doubts, weirdnesses and idiosyncracies. In a curious way it reminds me of the Canterbury Tales - there is a superficially shared purpose, but that purpose is only part of the point.
A word that our instructor Ian has expressed on quite a few times is 'satisfaction'. If ever there was someone who can express satisfaction with a piece of wood, it is Ian, wistfully effervescent over the sheer pleasure of using one's hands and wits to coax a desired form from this wonderful material. I have noticed repeatedly when I have been talking about the different skills I see myself learning as I progress, this word 'satisfaction' springs to his lips. And he's right, for there is something exquisitely 'satisfying' about woodworking.
For me, this satisfaction comes from being 'in the moment' and seeing the various operations in a task not as a means to an end, but as satisfying experiences in their own right. There is much pleasure to be gained from watching myself execute an accurate chisel cut exactly where I intend it to be, from sawing exactly to a line, from scribing a line around a piece of squared timber to end up exactly at the starting place, from fairing a fluid curve, from the feeling of a sharp plane slicing effortlessly, and throwing out fluffy shavings.
But there is equally pleasuring in noticing where it is all going wrong and, a bit like a detective, searching for the essential thing I am doing that is thwarting my intent. In fact it is this last aspect, seizing the feedback from anything that is not going as I wish, and tracing it to its source, that is the basis of all learning.
I find this attitude of being a detective is much encouraged. Ian, our instructor, is continually pointing out tips that aid in this search and instantly illuminate where the problem lies. A favourite expression of his is 'when I do this, I can see that...' This I consider is a feature of all advanced learning techniques - a large range of methods of illuminating any discrepancy between what is happening and what I want to be happening, which turns frustration into gold.
I believe satisfaction, for me, is much supported by the ease with which learning is made possible here. This is not just about how information is presented, but about people. The people here are interested in each other, and in sharing stuff.
The business of learning is not just about remembering information. It is about changing behaviour. All skill is acquired through changing behaviour so that my body performs what I want to do automatically. In joinery we have been gradually acquiring these automatic patterns, which essentially involves the ability to use tools skilfully, in an appropriate order and in a variety of ways - for example to mark accurately, to saw to a line, plane a board flat and square, chisel accurately and with regard to the nature of the timber - and perhaps above all, getting a 'feel' for the material we work with, namely wood.
I have just finished making a small plane, which I will be using for my next project, making an oar. It struck me, as I finished this, that had I been presented this intricate piece of work nine weeks ago, where we are working to tolerances of less than quarter millimetres, the possibility of my doing this would have seemed beyond reach. Yet I can. Somehow, in the intervening period, I have learned the necessary skills. But it has been a gradual process, like climbing a mountain - and an enjoyable climb, not an arduous scramble of effort.
You cannot learn skill without doing. Skills are not learned from books or words, but from trial and experimentation, and above all from noticing feedback. The joinery course is structured so as to be continually reinforcing the basic skills, and gradually acquiring new ones. The vast majority of time is spent in practical work, in which the student is free to experiment. When the questions pop up, the instructor is there to answer and explain. In this way, the student is provided with a clear pathway to follow, but never burdened with unnecessary knowledge - he asks when he needs, and is rewarded with comprehensive responses.
An important distinction between this course and others I have looked at or heard about is that, although in Joinery we make certain useful things that we keep (mainly tools that we will use during the rest of the course), we do not leave the course at the end having built 'a boat'. I see this as a considerable advantage. I am not here to build a boat. I am here to build me - to learn skill, understanding and confidence, so when I leave I shall be able to build (and restore) boats of many different sizes and types. So exposure to the many different challenges of building and restoring boats of many different sizes and types is what I need. I also need practice in working with many different timbers - it is pointless learning to work solely in one type of wood; as I recently found when changing from cutting dovetails in hardwoods to softwoods, which is a very different experience.
So my concluding advice to anyone interested in this course is: come and see for yourself, talk to the people, look at what they are doing, run your hands over a polished piece of wood, climb on a boat and check out the joinery, stand behind a bench and pick up a plane, or a saw, scrunch a handful of fluffy shavings.
And then ask yourself, "Do I like what I see?"