This was a hard week. I didn’t think it was going to be. I thought it would be easy (I like easy).

I expected to be at my best: engaged in a camp management training, learning how to train others (the classic, usually underwhelming, TOT [training of trainers]).

But I wasn’t at my best. I was nervous. I talked too fast. I wasn’t prepared. When my identity as a good trainer took a bruising, I got moody.

And then I reflected. Why did I think I was a good trainer in the first place? What right did I have to be upset? I haven’t actually done it all that much.

When I was 25, I lived in Uganda for a few months, detoxing from a relationship that didn’t work out. While I was there, I read in a newspaper that the government had recently banned caning in schools. My reaction? Design a training (using Google and the Super Nanny as references) on alternative discipline methodologies and offer it to local teachers. I had absolutely no experience whatsoever, except for the fact that I had attended 12 years of violence-free school. But something in me said, “You can do this! You have something to offer!”

Disclaimer: I do not endorse experimenting on the locals. One should absolutely know what they are doing when they set out to teach someone else, especially when it comes to working with children. I have no idea if those teachers got anything at all out of my training. Or worse, whether I caused any harm. But it was that experience that pushed me to go back to school and enroll in an international studies program. I wanted to know things; to have the facts and figures and skills to go back out into the world and be able to make a positive impact.

Fast forward eight years and I had accrued a little more knowledge but no more formal training experience. Sure, I had taught my national staff how to do community services and camp management, but that was informal, based on the scattered thoughts in my head and not on any developed curriculum. Most of my colleagues did the same: either cutting and pasting from training materials they found online, or creating outlines from their own experiences. Being a structured person, this style wasn’t really working for me. I wanted to know exactly what I should be training and how. I wanted an expert to show me how it’s done.

And that’s what I got from the global CCCM (Camp Management and Camp Coordination) cluster trainer who is an expert both in camp management and how to train adults. She set the bar high. Together, we explored how adults learn and how to develop trainings sessions. We practiced and we got feedback (thus my sour attitude). And we improved (thank goodness for that)! Here is the gist of what I learned:

Like I’ve been hinting, I got more negative feedback than I expected. Of course I had expected some, but not that much. That’s when I realized being a trainer isn’t easy; a good trainer makes it look easy. You can’t just wing it.

When I left Uganda and moved back in with my mom in California, I had to get a job quick. I didn’t have a car at the time, so I needed a place within walking distance. A T.G.I. Friday’s was opening across the street and so I applied. On the first day, our trainers began by giving us a little demonstration of their skills. The company had brought in the inspirational big guns: the guys who could juggle 6 margarita glasses and carry 11 plates at one time (o.k., maybe that’s an exaggeration). The point is, these guys made serving look like a monkey could do it. Anyone who has worked in a restaurant (or eaten in one for that matter), knows that isn’t true.

Whether it’s serving up pizza and burgers or managing a refugee camp, a good trainer loves what they’re doing and gets everyone else in on it. That’s what Natalia taught me. No matter the field, good trainers motivate and inspire. They know what they’re doing and come prepared. They have a plan and a backup to the plan. They have practiced at home in the mirror or to the stuffed animals on their bed. They are creative and try new things. They can lecture or play games. They adapt to the audience. They get people to participate in the learning process, and when they do, people have fun and may not even realize they are learning.

After this bumpy week of training, deep down I still harbor those feelings I had in Uganda: I can do this! I have something to offer! I am looking forward to trying out my new skills in the camps and maybe even going back for more lessons on how to be a better trainer next month. The truth is, good trainers aren’t born that way. They work at it (and dare I say, they give a training more than once every eight years).

I think this applies to writing, too. I am going to keep at these two things, this training thing and this writing thing. I decided earlier this year that I didn’t want to turn 34 in December and be in the same place I was in last year, doing a job I sort of love but not living up to my potential. I thought I had to quit my job to have time to work on myself, and that was scary. I wonder now if I got it all wrong. Maybe quitting isn’t the answer. Maybe it’s about staying and doing. I am making this the year I get out of my head and start doing the things I think I’m good at, whether it’s taking on new training opportunities or staying in my pajamas and writing all weekend. This is the year I prove what I can do, or fail (forward) trying. Then maybe one day my actual level of skill will match the aspirations in my head.

*Sigh*

If only it were that easy…