When I attended my first show handling class in 1985, things were done a little differently than they are today. Back then, the instructor was a rather elderly woman with a great deal of experience and very little patience. Ms. No-Nonsense ran her classroom the way many judges of the day ran their ring: imperiously. In fact, the instructor was downright rude at times, and more than one of her students was left in tears by a caustic comment delivered unapologetically. Yet for all the harsh words (and hurt feelings), no one ever walked out of class and everyone always returned the following week. And each week, the dog and handler teams improved, so much so that by graduation it was hard to believe how far everyone had come. Gone were the novice handlers with dogs that lunged and pulled (and peed) in the ring, replaced by capable exhibitors who accepted their certificates with a well-behaved dog by their side, ready to sign-up for the eight-week Intermediate course.
Forty years ago, students were inspired to continue the progress they’d made—no matter the bruised egos. Of course, not every class was run like a military operation, but it was understood that progress could only be made through trial and error and a commitment to the process. Results came in due time and were measured in incremental improvements as well as by championships. Fast forward to today, and the dog-training environment seems to have undergone a metamorphosis. Gone are the drill sergeant instructors who barked commands and offered unsolicited criticism, replaced by empathetic counselors who offer plenty of encouragement but little to no critique. At the last show handling class that I attended, people were dropping in and out as though they were delivering pizza, while others sat on the sidelines eating snacks or scrolling through their phones. Even the instructor sat in a chair, pointing instructions. I’m pretty sure that, despite her advanced years, Ms. No-Nonsense would have never sat down during her class and she would have never allowed anyone to chew gum much less eat pizza. As for the phones? They were all back home, secured to a wall in everyone’s kitchen.
I know, I know, you’re likely asking, “Is this guy a boomer or what?” Well, yes, he is, but he’s also someone who was taught to learn at a time when teachers had absolute authority in their classrooms. That’s simply the way it was, and the hierarchy created an order that all students—and their dogs—seemed to understand. Of course, times have changed, and learning is no longer relegated to the classroom, library, or training facility. Thanks to the Internet and smart phones, all the information of the ages is available at our fingertips. When I typed “How do I teach my dog to move on a show lead?” into a search engine, the results included innumerable web solutions as well as one four-minute video that offered practical advice on how to hold the lead and what to do with my other hand. Students today no longer need to go to a physical classroom to gain knowledge or earn a diploma, and exhibitors can even achieve some titles on their dogs virtually. It’s incredible, really, but does a prerecorded video replace live instruction—in-person or online?
Although educational videos are here to stay, nothing can take the place of a learning environment that offers immediate feedback—for the benefit of both dogs and their handlers. Online classes do provide useful information and allow students to interact in ways that can increase awareness and improve performance, but they’re not equipped to offer feedback directly to the dog. For all their intelligence, dogs can’t Google. At least not yet. And like most of us, dogs are social animals that learn from (meta)physical cues that are not reliably translated in the digital environment. (Dogs don’t always respond well to “virtual” body language, though some do seem to watch TV with great interest.) In real world spaces, both dogs and humans socialize in ways that allow learning to take place more instinctively and intuitively, and more directly. Even self-described introverts learn by sitting quietly in a room with others, simply observing the goings-on. This goes for human students as well as their canine partners.
Today, exhibitors appreciate show handling classes that recognize the relationship that exists between each dog and handler team. Unlike the classes of my youth, instruction now focuses on partnership as well as on performance and breed-specific presentation. Military-style instruction is no longer appreciated by students who view their dogs as loving partners, not subjects in need of praise or punishment. It’s not that students didn’t love their dogs in the past. They did, but they also learned how to work with their dogs by utilizing the available resources—books from the library and instructors like Ms. No-Nonsense. Nowadays, however, learning how to show a dog only requires an Internet connection. But WiFi itself isn’t going to make someone’s BFF a Champion. To achieve that goal, instruction needs to come from experienced mentors who can provide helpful advice based on personal observation—delivered in a manner that’s relatable for the times.
