Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

I think the more complex technologies the brain has to master, the more learning it has to do, the better equipped it will be.

I'd say that sort of depends. My personal experience with tool-learning falls mainly in the area of literacy, and it's actually sort of scary how the bar for functional literacy keeps getting higher and higher, since inevitably it's going to start leaving more and more people out. At one point, you were considered literate if you could write your name and maybe a few other things. Later on, you had to be able to read text as well as write. Then you had to be able to write as well as you could read, to a certain specified level. Then you had to be able to process complicated information presented in highly abstracted forms (e.g. telling time using more than one system of clock, deciphering maps and transit schedules) as well as read and write to an equal level. Now, it's getting so that the basic definition of functional literacy includes all that and being able to interpret and navigate a computer interface.

Concomitant with that and other similar societal developments has been a lengthening of the period of formal education it takes to create a functioning adult.

That's just one area of tool use, and there are countless others. So from the point of view that most likely we're going to hit a tipping point somewhere, yes, I think there are ample grounds to suggest that one ought not have to learn a completely new skill set every time one has to do a simple task.

Spend more time learning underlying skills and advanced techniques, and less time learning interfaces -- ideally one should only have to spend the time learning the tools/interfaces when there really is no way to design a sufficiently powerful yet non-novel interface for the problem domain.

Ideally, I don't want to even notice my tools ... well, beyond noticing that I'm more powerful with them, of course. Sometimes this does require learning a non-obvious interface well enough to master it and then stop thinking about it -- the vi text editor was an example where that paid off for me, but I've been using that one tool, in a variety of contexts, for nearly thirty years now, so that makes those first few months worth it. I shouldn't have to think about how to use the tool I'm using every time I pick up a new tool though; only when a) it's going to pay off like vi did (okay, that and driving a car are extreme cases, but you get the idea) and the complexity of the problem is such that a simpler tool won't give me enough power.

When I pulled my DSLR out of the box, I stuck a lens on it, noted a switch with positions marked 'Off', 'On', and a non-obvious symbol (which became clearer when I went looking for a control to do what it turned out to do), and a mode-selector switch that had mostly-familiar (from film cameras) markings. So I turned it on, pointed it at Perrine, pressed the shiny silver button that was in the expected, natural, and ergonomic location for a shutter release, and the LCD panel on the back lit up with a picture of my cat. No new learning. Good design.

When I wanted to do something with more control than that, I din't have to figure out a new way to do things; I only had to see where the controls were -- once I found the aperture and shutter speed controls, everything I had already learned about photography was immediately applicable. The tool became transparent. As I remarked on a Pentax-users mailing list, for most things I didn't notice needing any new skills with the DSLR, which (significantly for this anecdote) has both more automation and more control than any of my film cameras; it just made applying my existing skills easier and faster. I didn't really have to spend much time Learning The Tool -- thinking about the tool instead of the problem -- until I started wanting to do something odd with it. That's very good design but not quite great design: with truly great design, "much" in the previous sentence would have been "any".

Note that I did still need skillz, ones that I'd learned on film cameras. Here's the point: those skills had everything to do with the problem and relatively little to do with the tool.

I am happiest when I don't notice my tools. I have an idea, I decide to will the idea into reality, and it just happens, as easily as thinking about taking a drink of water turns into the glass arriving at my lips. I don't think about how to operate my hand until I am injured; I don't think about how to operate a pen until it malfunctions. Not every tool has as simple an interface as a ball-point pen, but the more transparent the tool -- the more it becomes simply an extension of my will, as my muscles are -- the better.

I'd rather spend the time learning problem-skills than tool-skills.