“Hi Matthew. Ashleigh gave me your number. I’m not a fly fisherman, but I’m interested in getting into it. Anyways, we’re thinking about offering a class and wondered if you would have any interest in teaching it. Think about it and give me a call back.”

It was hardly a big break. However, after trying repeatedly to secure a job anywhere near the only fly rods in town for over two years it felt like a serendipitous possibility. I had a taste of working at a fly shop, guiding, and teaching casting in Northern Virginia. In South Carolina I didn’t have the array of opportunities. It wasn’t that I was looking to make fishing my career: I just wanted to be in and around it… and to make a few bucks.

A friend of a friend had left the message. He worked for a big church in an urban center, and had been tasked with creating some engagement programs for the congregation and the community. He had quickly lined up things like scrapbooking, stamp collecting,  and canning. What caught his attention was the chance to offer something he was looking for himself. He wanted to see it happen, and I was quick to oblige.

So, what do you teach if you are going to teach fly fishing? If you were given six hour-long sessions, what would you cover?

That was precisely the task. I had six weeks. For insurance and logistical purposes, five had to be classroom sessions. The challenge with teaching fly fishing, as is the case with any other topic, is the interconnectedness of the various component parts. How do you discuss flies without discussing what they’re meant to imitate? How do you discuss those forage fish and insects without giving some frame of reference for the fish that eat them?

This is where an oft-quoted axiom becomes relevant. Einstein supposedly said, “you do not really understand something unless you can explain it to your grandmother.”

For any of us, regardless of if we’re formally teaching, taking our kid fishing, or contributing to a conversation in a meaningful way, this is worth considering. Maybe you can catch fish. Maybe you can tie beautiful flies. Maybe you can cast with pinpoint accuracy at 75 feet. But can you pass on not just the how, but also the why? If not, it isn’t just about an inability to communicate. I believe (and apparently Einstein did as well) that it reveals a deficiency of some sort. That isn’t meant to be an insult. It should be seen as an opportunity to mature; in fly fishing and a host of other facets of life.

I thought I knew fly fishing pretty well. Upon being faced with the need to distill the basics down to six hours of practical information, I had to turn to the pros. Being the early years of this century, that meant physically going to the library. I checked out every 101, intro to, for dummies, fly fishing basics book they had. I compared and contrasted the table of contents in each book. What was included, what was excluded? What was the order and the progression? Importantly, how did the weave in that intangible element of culture and story into the rote learning?

All said and done, I had my six sessions:

• Fly fishing distinctives
• The fish and where they live
• Gear and flies
• Reading the water and tactics
• Local opportunities and how to catch a fish today / Q&A
• Casting (my one off-site session)

I’m sure that the students, aged 13 to 73, learned something. I know that I learned a lot. As far as “off the water” experiences go, it was one of the most influential moments in my fly fishing education.

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Have you ever been interested in teaching fly fishing in your school, church, or local library? Go for it! Don’t take this as intimidating, but a reminder to teach from a place of humility. And always remember to defer to “authorities” in the field, and refer to other educated voices and outlets.