Left-brain, Right-brain and Learning

I've been taking a bit of time out to get my place in Belfast redecorated and as near to finished as I'll be able to do, so I've not been focusing on my e-learning work. But I have been thinking about some discussions I've read on the left-brain, right-brain theory. It started with Donald Clarke's reaction to Clive Shepherd's Neuromyths post.

I only know the basics of how the brain works, although I've bought some books and bookmarked some sites so I can read up on the subject when my DIY torture is over. My interest in how the brain learns isn't just academic or professional. In my early 20s I acquired a brain injury. The first thing I was told about my brain injury is that brain damage is permanent. That what has been destroyed will never come back. That I might be able to 'compensate' for my losses, but I would never get anything 'back'.

This is a frightening situation to be in when you can't remember your second name, what you did five minutes previously, or how to finish the sentence you have started. When you don't know how to tie your shoelaces, how to make a cup of tea or even feed yourself. I didn't know the names of objects like a cooker, fridge or chair. At 23 I was bedbound, feeling like a toddler with a whole world of learning in front of me. Except my brain wasn't the information-hungry tabula rasa of a child. It was full of holes. Damaged.

Recovery has taken years. And in the event I feel I have learned a lot about how I learn, how I retain information and how you it's possible not just to 'compensate' for brain damage, but how you can overcome it.

One of the things i feel very strongly is that my brain has two very different basic modes, which may be labelled as 'left' and 'right', but would probably be more usefully described for me as 'verbal' and 'non-verbal'.

After my brain injury I had difficulty in perceiving depth. I would walk into a shop or down a street, and if I was unfamiliar with the space, I could not see any depth - it was as if a poster was in front of my nose, and I could not tell what was 2D or 3D. Every step felt like a step into an abyss. I overcame this simply by forcing myself to enter spaces and making my brain work. A lot of early recovery felt like this. Brute force. Making my brain work but not understanding how it was working.

Prior to the injury I was a very good portrait artist. Afterwards my depth-perception problem meant I could copy from a 2-D picture, but really struggled with drawing from life. After several frustrating years of trying to recapture my drawing skills, I found a book called 'Drawing on the Right-Hand side of the Brain'.

This book is full of the cheap pop-psychology of left-hand, right-hand brain...but the book works. It will teach you how to switch your brain into the non-verbal mode that best helps you draw. It taught me how to switch consciously into the mode best suited for the activity I was doing. It also taught me how to draw again, a skill I thought I'd lost forever.

Learning to drive was one of the last big achievements I've made since my illness. I've posted earlier about how I found this a difficult process, as it felt to me like a 'right' brain activity - non-verbal, but I felt my brain to be in constant conflict as I was being taught how to drive verbally. Since getting my licence my driving has improved leaps and bounds, because when I'm in the car, my learning is not interrupted by having to talk or listen. I simply drive and absorb what I'm doing without words. This mode is non-verbal or 'right-brain'.

The brain is an incredibly complex organ - we can't pretend to understand much more than the basics. And as humans, we like simplifications. What could be nicer than pretending that this mysterious mass of nerves and neurons can be divided into two parts and easily understood? After all, don't we have men and women, darkness and light, rain and sun?

Left-brain, right-brain isn't correct. The advances in neurology we're currently seeing will of course reveal to us a much more complex picture - after all, it wasn't so long ago that we were taught that we only use 10% of our brains.

But for me, I found that the simplification of left-brain, right-brain helped me recover from my brain injury. It has helped me immeasurably since. Of course it doesn't help any learner to apply a strict theory to how they should learn - an intuitive approach is best.