Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.
-Origins are unknown, but popularly ascribed to Maimonides, or as an ancient Chinese proverb
When I was in college, most of the learning taking place in the gym happened not because of the technical expertise of Art and Yefim (head and assistant coach of the UCLA men's team); but because of the technical expertise of the gymnasts themselves. Not to take anything deserved away from our coaches, but much of the coaching came from each of the gymnasts- to themselves and to their teammates.
More than half of my teammates were Olympians, world and national champions and team members. They were on the cutting edge of technique, pushing the boundaries of the sport and performing skills that weren't around in Art's era (50s-60s) or Yefim's (60s-70s). So they, as much as any technical coaching expert or biomechanist, had to have a discerning mind that could think and create new moves and explore uncharted territory.
Most of my own progress also happened because of my own initiative and self-coaching, as well as from the guidance and input from my teammates, when sought or needed. I was my own best teacher and student.
My old mentor Al, head coach at Santa Monica Gymnastics Center, used to tell me about how the old Japanese coaches (when the Japanese men dominated the sport through the 60s and 70s) might have 70 gymnasts to manage. The coaches were more stand-offish than hands-on. They supervised, but much of the coaching was taking place amongst the gymnasts themselves.
Such self-reliance doesn't have to begin at adulthood.
One of the things we've been trying to do is teach the gymnasts to think for themselves; to not always wait around to be told what to do and be spoonfed every little detail of their practice. When you have a 30:1 or 15:1 ratio of gymnasts to coaches, efficiency happens when you make each gymnast personally responsible for their own learning and that of their fellow teammates. Rather than waiting for feedback for every single turn taken ("Watch me!", "Watch this!", "Was that good?"), the gymnast needs to cultivate the desire and the tools necessary to problem-solve and self-examine. It is intellectual laziness to be
overly reliant upon coaches to critique every turn.
Once the gymnast is educated on technique and what the standard is on execution of the skill, it is critical self-thinking that will enrich and deepen that gymnast's understanding and experience. The coach should be there as a guide, like a finger pointing to the moon, not to be mistaken for the moon itself; occasionally offering perspective and feedback, but only to help the athlete problem-solve without doing it for her.
As a coach, I'm also constantly learning from the experiences of my gymnasts. I am as much a student of the sport as is the young gymnast. When learning stops, so does growth. So ends progress and evolution and innovation.
My primary martial arts teacher,
Mark Mikita, once told me that he, as teacher, should be able to come back to me, as student, and I should be able to teach him something new about the art as it is filtered through my unique perspective, personal research, and experience. It makes me better as a student-teacher; and he, too, improves as a teacher-student of the art.