I was actively involved with the Cub Scouts as a child. On one of our camping expeditions, a troop leader taught us how to start a fire by rubbing sticks together. (To be honest, he tried to teach us how to start a fire with sticks, but in the end nobody — not even our group leader — was able to achieve ignition.)

We began by searching the woods for two dry sticks that were “thicker than our thumbs and thinner than our wrists.” After locating the ideal timber, we sat in a circle and listened to the leader explain the process of starting a fire. Well, some of the kids listened. Eager to see flames, I was too impatient to hear the instructions and began furiously rubbing my sticks together. My troop leader, dismayed that I wasn’t paying attention, asked me to stop. He set down his sticks and asked all of the kids to do the same. Seizing the opportunity, our leader took a moment and shared the story of the Magpie’s Nest.

The Magpie’s Nest is a story from the late 1800’s, published by Joseph Jacobs in English Fairy Tales. More parable than fairy tale, the Magpie’s Nest tells the story of how different birds learned to build their nests. Here’s an abbreviated version of the tale:

All the birds of the air came to the magpie and asked her to teach them how to build nests. For the magpie is the cleverest bird of all at building nests. So she put all the birds round her and began to show them how to do it. First of all she took some mud and made a sort of round cake with it.

“Oh, that’s how it’s done,” said the thrush; and away it flew, and so that’s how thrushes build their nests.

Then the magpie took some twigs and arranged them round in the mud.

“Now I know all about it,” says the blackbird, and off he flew; and that’s how the blackbirds make their nests to this very day.

Then the magpie put another layer of mud over the twigs.

“Oh that’s quite obvious,” said the wise owl, and away it flew; and owls have never made better nests since.

After this the magpie took some twigs and twined them round the outside.

“The very thing!” said the sparrow, and off he went; so sparrows make rather slovenly nests to this day.

Well, then Madge Magpie took some feathers and stuff and lined the nest very comfortably with it.

“That suits me,” cried the starling, and off it flew; and very comfortable nests have starlings.

So it went on, every bird taking away some knowledge of how to build nests, but, none of them waiting to the end.

My troop leader was making the point that you should always be patient when learning something new. If you run off and start applying new knowledge too early, it can come back to bite you. Sometimes you’ll even be downright dangerous putting partial knowledge to use. (Imagine trying to fly an airplane after reading a manual for an hour.)

I often think of the Magpie’s Nest when I deliver corporate training seminars. Some of the courses that I teach are prerequisites for other classes, and I worry that my students will be overconfident with the partial knowledge that I’m able to share in just a few days.

For example, in Introduction to Java I teach students how to connect to a database with JDBC. Unfortunately, I can only afford to spend four hours on this topic in a typical five-day course. This is plenty of time to explain the basics, but not nearly enough time to cover good style and best practices. I do my best to explain that in the “real world” developers should consider using a database pooling manager, a JNDI registry, and even an Object Relational Mapping framework such as Hibernate. These are all topics that I teach in more advanced courses.

I do my best to emphasize that what I’m teaching is a necessary prerequisite but a horrible real-world practice. Despite my emphasis, I still worry that students will act as I once did, and start rubbing their sticks together too soon.

It’s a difficult problem to solve. On one hand, I believe that a solid foundation needs to be laid before students can learn best practices. On the other hand, I fear that my students will never get around to learning more robust techniques. Part of my fear is fueled by ego. I worry that a person who knows better might see the handiwork of one of my students and ask who taught them how to build such shoddy software. (I also worry that their software will be slow, inefficient and insecure, but I’d be lying if said egotism didn’t play a large role.)

I’ve learned that the best way to solve this problem is to set realistic expectations. When I begin to deliver a new topic that I know I won’t have time to cover deeply, I simply explain the situation. I tell my students that the topic they are about to learn is complex, and that we won’t have time to discuss all of its nuances.

After covering the topic as well as time allows, I ask my students to come up with ideas for how they could improve upon what they learned. Rather than explicitly pointing out the shortcomings of what I just showed them, I believe it’s important for my students to realize them on their own. I want them to understand that it’s important to learn more about the topic before they go to work. If they arrive at this conclusion on their own, then they will be more likely to take the initiative to learn more.

This advice applies to teachers and students alike. Trainers should set realistic expectations, and put their students down the path toward learning more. Students should be patient as they learn, and resist the urge to apply their knowledge too soon. Impatience is often a sign of passion, and passion is great for learning. However, it’s important that passion be channeled and patience be exercised when learning something new. Remember the tale of the Magpie’s Nest, and don’t rub your sticks too soon.

Today I found myself rereading The Elements of Style by Strunk and White. My favorite passage in the book is this gem from E.B. White:

[William Strunk] scorned the vague, the tame, the colorless, the irresolute. He felt it was worse to be irresolute than to be wrong. I remember a day in class when he leaned far forward, in his characteristic pose — the pose of a man about to impart a secret — and croaked, “If you don’t know how to pronounce a word, say it loud! If you don’t know how to pronounce a word, say it loud!” This comical piece of advice struck me as sound at the time, and I still respect it. Why compound ignorance with inaudibility? Why run and hide?

Confidence is the spackle of social interaction. It can smooth over blemishes and make strengths of shortcomings. Confidence can make the weak appear mighty, and the confused seem clear. I’ve seen it work firsthand.

In high school I competed on the Forensics (a.k.a. Speech and Debate) team. My specialities were Impromptu and Extemporaneous speech. Both categories required participants to give a five to seven minute speech on a surprise topic. We were given less than thirty minutes to prepare.

At the 1998 national qualifying tournament, I was asked to give a seven minute speech that answered the following question: “Why is Abortion the Third Rail of Politics?” My heart sank when I read the topic. It wasn’t that I feared discussing abortion — many of the topics we had to debate were controversial — rather, my fear was caused by the fact that I had never heard the “third rail” metaphor used before. I had no idea what it meant. Today I understand that a third rail refers to a topic so taboo that politicians try to avoid it, lest they suffer political damage. The phrase originates with the third rail on a train track that carries high voltage current. If you touch it you die.

I had half an hour to prepare a seven minute speech dealing with abortion and third rails, whatever those were. As my palms sweated and my heart raced, my brain swirled for the meaning behind this unknown metaphor. What type of rails did the phrase refer to? Train rails? Guard rails? Hand rails? I decided on hand rails.

With only a few minutes left to prepare, I still needed to figure out how third rails differed from the first and second variety. I closed my eyes and imagined the hand rail that lead up the steps of my childhood home. It had three horizontal, cast iron rails. I decided that the one on top, the one you hold, must be the third rail. Clearly a “third rail” was something that you lean on for support, something that guides you toward your destination.

“Speaker number thirty-four! Speaker number thirty-four! You’re up!” It was my turn to present in front of the panel. I walked down the hall toward the waiting judges, still a little unsure if I correctly understood the metaphor. I decided to compensate for my nervousness by standing taller, smiling bigger and speaking a lot louder.

It worked. I won first place.

I don’t remember exactly what I said during those seven minutes, but I’m sure I had it all wrong. My guess about the third rail metaphor couldn’t have been more incorrect. The speech I gave was premised on a misunderstanding, but in the end it didn’t matter. My confidence made up for my ignorance, and my volume made up for my white lie. I tricked the judges into thinking I knew what I was talking about, and perhaps I even fooled them into doubting their own understanding of the meaning behind “third rails.”

Whether it be at a speech competition, a boardroom, or a poker table, confidence can conceal weaknesses like no mask ever could. As Strunk and White agree, it’s better to be wrong than irresolute. So, the next time you’re feeling a little unsure of yourself, remember to say it loud!

Today Circuit City filed for chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. Since being arrested last year in a Circuit City parking lot, a number of people have contacted me over the past twelve months asking for my thoughts on all things Circuit City. Not surprisingly, a few people emailed me today asking for my opinion on the bankruptcy news. A couple of the people who contacted me asked if I was happy to hear that Circuit City is going out of business.

First of all, Circuit City is not necessarily going out of business. Chapter 11 bankruptcy provides companies with legal protection against creditors while they reorganize. Many companies survive Chapter 11 bankruptcy and live to see more solvent days. If Circuit City were filing for a Chapter 7 bankruptcy, then their assets would be liquidated and the company would cease to operate. Since this is not the case, it is unfair to say that Circuit City is going out of business.

A better question is, am I happy to see that Circuit City is suffering financially? The answer is no.

I certainly have good reason to be unhappy with Circuit City. After all, they detained my family and me after I refused a bag search in their Brooklyn Heights, Ohio store. After the incident, rather than apologizing they tried to confuse the public about what happened by blurring their detention of my family with the largely unrelated driver’s license refusal between me and a police officer. Instead of changing their policies and educating their employees, I’m told that their anti-consumer practices are still in place.

Although I no longer shop at Circuit City, I can’t say that I’m happy to hear that they’re on the verge of collapse. Circuit City employs over 45,000 people, and their livelihoods are now at stake. With more than 650 stores in the United States, a number of real estate companies stand to lose a big tenant if Circuit City closes its doors for good. Despite my unpleasant history with this company, it would be petty and vindictive of me to celebrate the threat of so many jobs.

Instead of wishing for Circuit City to collapse, here’s what I would like to see happen instead:

• I hope that Circuit City is able to restore itself financially and emerge from Chapter 11 bankruptcy as a healthier company.
• I hope that Circuit City’s creditors get repaid in full.
• I hope that Circuit City is able to limit the number of stores it has to close and the number of employees it has to let go.
• I hope that Circuit City learns from its mistakes and adopts a friendlier approach with its customers. This would involve adopting loss prevention methods that don’t require their customers to endure bag searches. Not trusting your own cashiers at check-out is a poor reason to treat your customers like criminals.
• Although I’m not holding my breathe, it would still be nice to receive a written apology from Circuit City. I think some companies either underestimate the power of an apology, or are afraid that issuing an apology exposes them to a lawsuit. In all honesty, if Circuit City apologized and pledged to change their loss prevention policies, I would consider becoming a customer with them again.

In their reorganization efforts, I wish Circuit City well. They’ve been around since 1949, and it would be a shame to see such an old company disappear. Hopefully this bankruptcy will give them a blank slate, and allow them to emerge as a more financially sound and customer-friendly company.