Learning by Osmosis

Osmosis is one of those words I learned in high school biology class and I can’t say for certain that I’ve ever used it correctly in a sentence, much less understand how it really works, so don’t send your kids over for help with science homework.  I do, however, find that “learning by osmosis” is an important element in my learning portfolio.  Sleeping on a book won’t do it, no matter how appealing that sounds (almost as attractive as the dieting theory that calories don’t count if I’m standing up while I’m eating). 

No, my completely unscientific theory is that you learn things—big and small—when you don’t even mean to.  Or, at least, that’s what happens to me and then I’m delighted, most of the time, when I figure out I really do know what’s going on!

As a kid, we described it as “It just came upon me…”  Picture a 12-year-old at her weekly piano lesson.  I (I mean, “she”) hadn’t practiced much in the prior week so the hardest piece of music was hidden way down in the stack.  Mrs. M looked up from the metronome and said, “Now, let’s try blah, blah, blah.”  I’m not making this up—nine times out of ten, I ploughed right through with fair success; it came upon me.  Note to all current piano students  I am not advocating this protocol because it didn’t work as flawlessly  when I got to college and I struggled with students like me (I mean, “her”) during my itinerate piano teacher days.

I’m an unabashed “inside kind of girl” who likes books, plays, music, you know, “culcha” (aka things I do sitting down).  And then I married a sports editor and moved to Virginia.  In this alien environment, I was now spending early mornings with ESPN’s Sports Center; meeting people who talked about box scores, division rankings, and “magic” numbers; and sitting in stadiums and arenas in cities across the country.  Without paying much attention, I woke up one day reciting the starting five of the ’66 Rupp’s Runts, understanding that Desmond Howard’s 99-yard kickoff return for a touchdown at Super Bowl XXXI gave him a good chance at being MVP, and scoffing at amateurs who didn’t wait until the inning was over before heading to the concourse for ice cream.  In full disclosure, I STILL require multiple explanations of the “magic number” formula but I’ll get there eventually.

Osmosis moments occur professionally, too.  I’ve shared classrooms, offices and open-area spaces.  Even with intense concentration and a solemn vow that I’m not really listening (I don’t eavesdrop, I promise!), I find I’ve learned some really cool things and I have no clue how I did.  I just know I’ll be working along totally focused on the job at hand and I’ll realize hours later I’m reading an article that includes a factoid I heard earlier, usually prefaced by a phrase like....”This is gonna be the next ‘big’ thing” (heard it today, as a matter of fact, and made a connection not long afterward).

Call it exposure, immersion, spidey sense, or something else entirely, but it works.  I’m not that special so I figure osmosis learning happens to everybody, right?