For years I’ve urged clients to always set themselves and their animals up to succeed so that every foray into new improved behavior ends on a high note. I made this recommendation based on ethological studies of a phenomenon called the Confidence Effect which can be summed up in the familiar refrain, “Winners keep winning and losers keep losing”. Admittedly few if any events ever carry a guarantee. But the concept did support the role consistency plays in establishing new behavioral pathways in the brain. And even better than the results of controlled studies, feedback from those applying the concept under more complex real world conditions indicated that it worked for them and their animals too.
But a key ingredient in effective learning that we often ignore because it seems so obvious is memory. Regardless of the teaching method used, individuals of any species who can’t retain what someone teaches them can’t learn it. Traditionally the party line maintained that if we repeat the same thing often enough, eventually it would sink in. Especially if we do it to gain a reward or to avoid punishment. But alas brains such as those found in humans and other animals don’t necessary respond to repetition the same way computer programs do. Unlike a computer that cares nary a whit for what’s going on in its surroundings, we human and nonhuman animals may care a great deal. Nor does the computer give a flea’s patootie whether the information we ask it to store makes any sense.
However most of us and our animals do care about context and meaning. Put some humans or dogs in a chaotic training situation and whatever they “learn” there may disappear in a twinkling of kibble dust before they complete the ride home after class. Ask some dogs to learn something that makes no sense to them and they may be unable to make the proper response once no matter how much reward or punishment we dole out, let alone remember that response the next day. Sure we can label those animals “learning disabled”, but that does nothing to help them learn.
Because logic says that memory plays such an important role in learning, I try to follow the research on the subject as best I can. Over the years this has resulted in a view of how memory works that pretty much disproved every notion I had about it in the past. Consequently when I heard a segment on the TED Radio Hour on National Public Radio, specifically a show called Memory Games that offered tantalizing clues to the high-note premise, I immediately took notice. The show looks at three different aspects of memory of value relative to the way we (and most likely animals) store information.
One: Minds do not work like cameras. Instead, highly subjective factors like our emotions alter our perceptions. Not only that, every time we recall a memory, those same factors alter it to reflect changes in our emotions and perceptions related to that event at that time. Hence the reliability of eye-witness accounts once considered the gold standard of the criminal justice system leans more toward the mythical than factual end of the validity spectrum.
Two: How an event ends will determine how we remember it more than what occurred during the entire incident.
Three: the ability to memorize something does not mean that one understands it.
What might this mean relative to the best teaching environment for animals? Presumably the less negative emotional clutter, the better. But now things get hairy. Whether we believe animals capable of cognition and emotion or not, our egocentric human brains tend to automatically assume that animals perceive events the same way we do. As discussed in last month’s commentary , if we communicate with an animal in a manner that we perceive as emotionally positive, we assume that the animal will perceive it that same way.
If we take the “more is better” approach that characterizes so much in our society, then the more energy we put into any perceived positive emotional response to an animal, the more positive the message it will communicate to the animal. But although we may see things that way, there’s no shortage of animals for whom the opposite holds true: The more gushing and effusive our praise, the more apprehensive the animal will become. Even worse, if research on human memory holds for animals (which I suspect it does), the animal’s memory of this final excessive interaction with us could reduce and even eliminate the memory of what preceded it.
For example, imagine I give my dog, Ollie, a set of complex commands to which he responds flawlessly. (I ask you to imagine Ollie doing this because his actually doing so more reasonably dwells in the realm of fantasy.) When he does this, I then start a’leapin’ and a’hollorin’ what a fantastic dog he is, beyond words incredible, the smartest dog in the universe, etc. Because he’s little, I might even pick him up and spin him around joyfully so overwhelmed am I by his brilliance.
More likely than not, Ollie’s response to my response to his performance will trigger one of two emotional responses. He may perceive my response as an expression of over the top human delight. Or my response may unnerve him. In either case, there’s a high probability that his emotional response will be of comparable intensity to mine and that will be what he remembers. That is, he is more likely to remember my response to what he did instead of what he actually did to trigger it. It also seems reasonable that if the intensity of my response spooks, confuses him, or otherwise triggers negative emotions, that fear will enhance this effect. Either way, it seems likely that his memory of my response to him will take precedence over any learning that preceded it.
Are all dogs like Ollie? Certainly not. He’s a relatively soft and sensitive creature in many ways. It takes much less to jazz him up or deflate him than his mother, and most certainly the cat and some other animals with whom I’ve shared my life over the years.
Granted these thoughts lie in the realm of speculation and that of the often scientifically condemned anecdotal evidence. But as individuals most of us figure out by trial and error if nothing else how much of what kind of praise or discipline is enough to enhance our animals’ learning instead of inhibiting it. But what about those class situations?
I’ve long advocated doing pre-class screening to ensure the most effective learning environment for dogs and their owners instead of taking a one-size-fits-all approach. Studies on the neurophysiology of memory suggest another reason for doing this. The more uniform the class’s canine population, the easier for the instructor to end them on a high note. The more uniform the canine population, the less people need to worry about some exuberant dog intimidating their more timid one or vice versa, their more exuberant animals terrifying their more introverted canine classmates. The less worry, the better the learning experience for humans and canine alike.
Albert Einstein said “I never teach my pupils. I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn.” So it is or should be with animals. We must guard against getting so caught up in the process of teaching them that we pay little or no attention to providing the conditions in which they can best learn.
If you have any comments regarding subject matter, favorite links, or anything you’d like to see discussed on or added to this site, please let me know at mm@mmilani.com.
For years I’ve urged clients to always set themselves and their animals up to succeed so that every foray into new improved behavior ends on a high note. I made this recommendation based on ethological studies of a phenomenon called the Confidence Effect which can be summed up in the familiar refrain, “Winners keep winning and losers keep losing”. Admittedly few if any events ever carry a guarantee. But the concept did support the role consistency plays in establishing new behavioral pathways in the brain. And even better than the results of controlled studies, feedback from those applying the concept under more complex real world conditions indicated that it worked for them and their animals too.
But a key ingredient in effective learning that we often ignore because it seems so obvious is memory. Regardless of the teaching method used, individuals of any species who can’t retain what someone teaches them can’t learn it. Traditionally the party line maintained that if we repeat the same thing often enough, eventually it would sink in. Especially if we do it to gain a reward or to avoid punishment. But alas brains such as those found in humans and other animals don’t necessary respond to repetition the same way computer programs do. Unlike a computer that cares nary a whit for what’s going on in its surroundings, we human and nonhuman animals may care a great deal. Nor does the computer give a flea’s patootie whether the information we ask it to store makes any sense.
However most of us and our animals do care about context and meaning. Put some humans or dogs in a chaotic training situation and whatever they “learn” there may disappear in a twinkling of kibble dust before they complete the ride home after class. Ask some dogs to learn something that makes no sense to them and they may be unable to make the proper response once no matter how much reward or punishment we dole out, let alone remember that response the next day. Sure we can label those animals “learning disabled”, but that does nothing to help them learn.
Because logic says that memory plays such an important role in learning, I try to follow the research on the subject as best I can. Over the years this has resulted in a view of how memory works that pretty much disproved every notion I had about it in the past. Consequently when I heard a segment on the TED Radio Hour on National Public Radio, specifically a show called Memory Games that offered tantalizing clues to the high-note premise, I immediately took notice. The show looks at three different aspects of memory of value relative to the way we (and most likely animals) store information.
One: Minds do not work like cameras. Instead, highly subjective factors like our emotions alter our perceptions. Not only that, every time we recall a memory, those same factors alter it to reflect changes in our emotions and perceptions related to that event at that time. Hence the reliability of eye-witness accounts once considered the gold standard of the criminal justice system leans more toward the mythical than factual end of the validity spectrum.
Two: How an event ends will determine how we remember it more than what occurred during the entire incident.
Three: the ability to memorize something does not mean that one understands it.
What might this mean relative to the best teaching environment for animals? Presumably the less negative emotional clutter, the better. But now things get hairy. Whether we believe animals capable of cognition and emotion or not, our egocentric human brains tend to automatically assume that animals perceive events the same way we do. As discussed in last month’s commentary , if we communicate with an animal in a manner that we perceive as emotionally positive, we assume that the animal will perceive it that same way.
If we take the “more is better” approach that characterizes so much in our society, then the more energy we put into any perceived positive emotional response to an animal, the more positive the message it will communicate to the animal. But although we may see things that way, there’s no shortage of animals for whom the opposite holds true: The more gushing and effusive our praise, the more apprehensive the animal will become. Even worse, if research on human memory holds for animals (which I suspect it does), the animal’s memory of this final excessive interaction with us could reduce and even eliminate the memory of what preceded it.
For example, imagine I give my dog, Ollie, a set of complex commands to which he responds flawlessly. (I ask you to imagine Ollie doing this because his actually doing so more reasonably dwells in the realm of fantasy.) When he does this, I then start a’leapin’ and a’hollorin’ what a fantastic dog he is, beyond words incredible, the smartest dog in the universe, etc. Because he’s little, I might even pick him up and spin him around joyfully so overwhelmed am I by his brilliance.
More likely than not, Ollie’s response to my response to his performance will trigger one of two emotional responses. He may perceive my response as an expression of over the top human delight. Or my response may unnerve him. In either case, there’s a high probability that his emotional response will be of comparable intensity to mine and that will be what he remembers. That is, he is more likely to remember my response to what he did instead of what he actually did to trigger it. It also seems reasonable that if the intensity of my response spooks, confuses him, or otherwise triggers negative emotions, that fear will enhance this effect. Either way, it seems likely that his memory of my response to him will take precedence over any learning that preceded it.
Are all dogs like Ollie? Certainly not. He’s a relatively soft and sensitive creature in many ways. It takes much less to jazz him up or deflate him than his mother, and most certainly the cat and some other animals with whom I’ve shared my life over the years.
Granted these thoughts lie in the realm of speculation and that of the often scientifically condemned anecdotal evidence. But as individuals most of us figure out by trial and error if nothing else how much of what kind of praise or discipline is enough to enhance our animals’ learning instead of inhibiting it. But what about those class situations?
I’ve long advocated doing pre-class screening to ensure the most effective learning environment for dogs and their owners instead of taking a one-size-fits-all approach. Studies on the neurophysiology of memory suggest another reason for doing this. The more uniform the class’s canine population, the easier for the instructor to end them on a high note. The more uniform the canine population, the less people need to worry about some exuberant dog intimidating their more timid one or vice versa, their more exuberant animals terrifying their more introverted canine classmates. The less worry, the better the learning experience for humans and canine alike.
Albert Einstein said “I never teach my pupils. I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn.” So it is or should be with animals. We must guard against getting so caught up in the process of teaching them that we pay little or no attention to providing the conditions in which they can best learn.
If you have any comments regarding subject matter, favorite links, or anything you’d like to see discussed on or added to this site, please let me know at mm@mmilani.com.