Pulling on a thread from yesterday’s email a little more…if you feel like you know something, but you can’t explain it well, do you truly understand it?
You functionally understand how air density, and thus altitude, affects engine performance. You can do the math, set up whole models and codes incorporating it.
But someone asks you to explain the physics of your model and you just…can’t. You try to communicate the underlying principles, but there’s just this fuzzy jumble of equations and keywords in your brain. You answer the question without really answering the question.
That feeling sucks. So you decide to fix it. And the next time someone asks about your model, you can explain it.
And then they ask a clarifying question, because they aren’t very familiar with internal combustion engines. And surprisingly, you find you can drop the complexity of your answer down a level.
You can bring your explanation to a level they can actually understand with whatever their existing knowledge is.
That’s what true understanding looks like. Application is one thing, sure.
But being able to deconstruct the whole concept, comprehend its fundamentals, rework it to fit whatever niche problem you’re solving, and then explain it clearly at different levels of complexity—now you really know your stuff.
Like I said yesterday, the best way to learn something is to teach it. If you can teach it to people at varied levels of comprehension (within reason, of course) then you can pretty confidently say you get it.
When was the last time you explained something to someone who wasn’t a peer in your discipline? In your industry?
Here’s a little challenge for you: take a concept that you know you’re fuzzy on. Find a friend and teach them this concept. Figure out what you don’t know. And figure out how to explain it so your friend genuinely gets it.
Congrats. You’ve found true understanding.