(“I need to be yelled at!”)
Two caveats: teaching techniques and learning styles vary greatly from one person to the next. Different strokes, etc.… And they are inseparably tied to the rest of the teacher’s and student’s personalities. They’re hard to change even if the participants want to change them.
So I have no business criticizing, but when has that ever stopped me?
This all came to mind as I was reading a thread on an online message board where people were coming to the defense of George Morris—as though he needed someone to defend him. Most everyone knows who George is—the most famous hunt seat equitation teacher of all time, a former USET star in his own right, and the coach of more riders who themselves made it onto the Team than you could list on all your fingers and toes.
No one would question the information he has given out over the years or the degree to which he cares about his pupils’ success.
More than a few people would add he’s also a jerk, and this opinion, in fact, was what got the thread started. Acerbic, mean-spirited, offensive, demeaning—these don’t sound like ringing endorsements. On the other hand, if you mind being called a fat pig by George, you probably shouldn’t ride with him (especially if you are a fat pig).
I won’t try to psychoanalyze a man’s relentless, obsessive pursuit of perfection in an imperfect world. If at times in his career he became a caricature of himself, that’s not really the point. Of greater interest to me is the response from people who appear to like having been treated that way.
“I never want to be praised,” said one. “How can I be as good as I possibly can if someone’s telling me I’m good enough?
The pathology expressed in these words should be apparent. Are we lacking a little bit in the ability to self-motivate? Does the acknowledgment that you did one thing correctly somehow lead you to conclude you should no longer try to improve? More abuse, please!
More than once I’ve been told by a clinic rider at the beginning of her session, “You can be really tough. I need to be yelled at!”
“Really?” I always want to say. “I charge extra to yell. Why don’t you just get your s#%t together, suck it up, pay attention, and listen to what I have to tell you?”
I respect people who show a meticulous attention to detail, but before they want to scuff around in the weeds, they had better show me they know what the forest looks like.
As much as I am repelled by torrents of unwarranted, syrupy compliments (or even warranted syrupy ones), it should not be de-motivational to be told that something you’ve done is good or even excellent. That approach, rather than the “slap me some more and I’ll try to improve paradigm,” is the way sensible, mature riders should expect to be treated.
While the George persona did have its downside, there were some positives as well. Having survived his childhood–think “Darien” and “spoiled”–he created a larger than life mystique which exuded theatricality and was nicely suited to keeping in their place the wealthy, over-confident, and entitled children whose parents formed the bulk of his clientele.
I remember him dealing with one too smart for her own good, snippy teenager who wouldn’t stop grabbing her horse’s mouth and shortening his stride on the way to every fence. George climbed on her horse, and took up the canter. About eight strides out when he saw his spot, he dropped the reins on the horse’s neck and turned his head towards the kid who was standing off to the side. His eyes burning holes through her, his gaze never wavered as he met the jump perfectly and galloped away, the kid’s ego shrinking with every stride. Think that put her rightfully in her place?