Way back in what now seems like another lifetime, I was selected for instructor duty at the US Air Force’s premier technical school—metrology—the art/science of measurement. That is not the subject of this article. Revealing a little about the art of motivation is the subject in this essay. But teaching and motivating are two subjects that are definitely related.
Before taking up teaching duties, we were required to attend a few weeks of instruction on the subject of how to teach and motivate. We had video tapes and instant feedback from other students. As I recall, we were brutal in our critiques of each other. In retrospect, it was time well spent. Afterward I was to take my place for the next 3 and ½ years in the front of a classroom of very bright students for 30 hours per week, and up to another 30 more hours in preparation to go in front of those students. Fortunately for me, most knew very little about the subject matter. Still, they were all hand-picked, not only from our ranks, but also from the other branches of our military here and from others around the world. They were all the cream of the crop, so I had to be on top of my game every day.
Learning how to teach via motivation was the key to it all. And part of that consisted of crunching key concepts into memorable or catchy phrases: We talked about “bringing your A game” long before today’s crop of ghastly golfers were even born. We would also try to give each other a boost with the sterling phrase “If you can’t dazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullsh*t” long before that little gem found its way into the vocabulary of those who occupy today’s halls of academe. But we gave credit to Professor Alan Monroe from Purdue University for handing us his teaching/motivational methods in condensed format. There were five steps in Professor Monroe’s motivational method: They were: 1) Get the audience’s attention. This was part of your introduction. 2) Then create a convincing need in your audiences’ minds about why this subject was important to them. 3) Then define your solution. Tell them how it meets that same need. 4) Describe a detailed picture of success (or failure). Anticipate objections and crush them before they are raised. And 5) Ask your audience to do something right away. And finally, leave them gasping for more. It's a straightforward formula for success that's been used for more than 70 years.
What I want to emphasize today is the attention step. This occurs immediately as you—the presenter—step to the front and face your audience. As student instructors we came to believe that this was a “do or die” moment. It wasn’t that critical, but it was fun to try to out “do” the other instructors. And many went “all in” in their efforts to come up with the most eye-opening attention getter possible. I recall one young lieutenant who climbed up on the desk in front, dropped his pants, popped an American flag from his shorts, and started singing “God Bless America.” Another pretended to pee his pants by bursting a balloon filled with water as he stood there shaking. Others did head stands, back flips, and set various things on fire. I wasn’t much of an actor, so I told a joke, or related a news item to the day’s instruction, or told about something I had experienced somewhere in my travels that had some connection to the subject at hand.
Even today I silently critique almost anyone who dares to teach or persuade anywhere, but especially those on television. I don’t like anyone who cannot or will not look me straight in the eyes, or those who stammer and stutter with a lot of “umms” and “ahhs.” Don’t even think of turning your back on me while you are talking. I detest windbags, pretenders to knowledge, preachers, or politicians who are just plain liars.
A few years ago I watched a 90 minute presentation on HBO. This presenter topped every person I had every seen or heard about in my entire life. His delivery was “spot on” in every detail. He used facial expressions that I had never seen before; he glided around the stage with incredible agility; he was perfectly coherent; his presentation flowed flawlessly; and he brought the house down time and time again with his humor. He taught without bombast; he kept my attention for 90 minutes without let up; he made my sides ache from laughter; his use of language soared to levels that I—a student of language—had never heard used by anyone before, or since. He never once used notes.
This fellow died a few years ago. He lives on in many videos. It matters not whether any self-proclaimed “purist” approves of his style, or his message, or his language. He remains in a class by himself as a writer, comedian, presenter, and philosopher. No person, place, or thing was off limits to him, or to his wit although he rarely, if ever, singled out anyone by name. He was so good, his opening line nearly always brought the house down. My favorite: “Have you ever noticed that most of these pro-lifers are people you wouldn’t want to f**k in the first place?”
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