The Learning Continuum

I didn’t start my career intending to become someone who thinks deeply about learning systems.

I started as a lecturer — teaching students who came to class expecting knowledge, structure, and clarity. Later, I moved into a professional body, designing qualifications and certifications. Then I entered Learning & Development (L&D) in a corporate environment, where learning was supposed to translate directly into performance. Along the way, I also had a front-row seat to the realities of workplace training through my husband, a certified trainer — witnessing the pressure, expectations, and invisible work behind every “successful” training programme.

Across these roles, one thing became increasingly clear to me:

“We keep using the word learning — but we mean very different things.”

And when we confuse teaching, training, and training for professional certification, people don’t just feel bored. They feel exhausted, disengaged, and quietly resentful of learning that doesn’t help them do their jobs better.

Teaching: Building Understanding That Transfers

Teaching is where my journey began. In teaching, the goal is understanding. Knowledge must stand independently of context. Students are expected to grasp concepts deeply enough to explain them, critique them, and apply them across scenarios that may not yet exist. A good teaching question sounds like:

“Do you understand this concept in principle?”

Time is generous. Exploration is encouraged. Assessment measures comprehension, reasoning, and intellectual clarity. Teaching is not rushed, because understanding cannot be rushed. And importantly:

“Teaching does not promise immediate performance. It promises cognitive readiness.”

A student who understands a concept doesn’t just repeat what they’ve been taught. They can adapt it when the environment changes, when the tools change, when the problem looks different.

That, I realised early on, is the essence of teaching — building understanding that lasts.

Training for Professional Certification: Understanding Meets Competence

Years later, I joined a professional body, where I began designing qualifications. What I get to see with “professional certification” is that it is structured, controlled, and high-stakes. I had to consider:

• What must every competent professional know?
• What can reasonably be self-studied?
• What requires formal instruction?
• How do we assess competence fairly?

On paper, the learning pathways were labelled “self-study”, and in practice, flexibility existed — formal structured learning was optional but always available. Still, the syllabus was tightly controlled. The right to train was granted only to accredited trainers and approved training agencies.

Why?

“Because professional certification is not just about learning. It is about standards, trust, and accountability.  Being certified carries a promise that a professional has met a defined, agreed-upon standard of competence.”

This promise cannot rely solely on informal learning or on-the-job experience. It requires structure, formal assessment, and clear boundaries.

Some experienced professionals push back – they say:

“I’ve been doing this for years. Why do I need certification? My work speaks for itself.”

In many ways, it does. But professional certification was never designed to judge individual brilliance. Professional certifications exist because systems need shared, portable standards. From a design perspective, experience is not ignored — it is refined. The modules are curated meticulously by industry experts, debated across committees, and stress-tested against current practice and future demands.

“Professional certification takes what practitioners already know and aligns it with agreed industry standards, ethical boundaries, and future expectations. Without it, experience remains personal, but with it, competence becomes accountable.”

It does not replace experience.

It sharpens it.

Most importantly, it doesn’t end once you pass the exam.

To maintain credibility, certified professionals are obliged to undertake a defined number of learning hours through structured or unstructured learning activities. This is known as Continuous Professional Development (CPD). CPD ensures practices stay relevant, knowledge stays current, and the promise behind the professional certification continues to be meaningful. The professional certification is the baseline, and CPD is the ongoing commitment to remain credible and capable.

Training: Seeing the Real Work of a Corporate Trainer

Through my husband, I gained another perspective on learning — the world of corporate training. He started as an independent trainer, delivering workshops to diverse clients. Later, he joined an organisation as their in-house corporate trainer, responsible for designing, delivering, and measuring learning outcomes across multiple teams.

Through him, I saw the real work behind the title “trainer” – it’s not just standing in front of a room and talking. It’s pressure, preparation, and precision:

• Pressure from expectations: Learners come with different backgrounds, skills, attitudes and motivations. Some are there to learn, to improve themselves; others attend only because it’s mandatory. Trainers must meet everyone’s needs while keeping the session relevant and engaging.
• Pressure from outcomes: Organisations want results. Bosses want their people to have the skill to get the job done. Training isn’t just “sharing knowledge” — it’s to improve performance, a fixing method, skill application, and behaviour change. Trainers are accountable for these outcomes, often under tight timelines.
• Aspiration and craft: Good trainers aspire to more than delivery. They craft content carefully, anticipate challenges, design exercises that resonate, and measure transfer of learning. They balance engagement, relevance, and rigor, all in real time.

Watching him, I realised that being a corporate trainer is part pedagogue, part psychologist, part project manager. You need empathy to understand your learners, influence to manage their bosses, strategy to design meaningful programmes, and stamina to deliver consistently under scrutiny.

It also made me appreciate why some workplace learning succeeds, and some fails. A trainer’s skill can be brilliant, but if the system, expectations, or support is misaligned, even the best facilitator cannot make learning stick.

One thing he often emphasises is:

“Training is meant to improve performance, not dwell on theory. Yet, there is no such thing as ideal. We can’t run away from having to face some content that is inherently theory-heavy — complex systems, workflows, or technical tools. The challenge is structuring and delivering it, so learners remain engaged, connected to outcomes, and able to apply knowledge.”

I saw this in action when he designed a system training module for his organisation. The module had a theory-heavy prerequisite delivered via e-learning, covering concepts staff had to understand before touching the system. Instead of letting it remain a dry, abstract experience, he implemented a hybrid approach:

• Learners completed the e-learning module at their own pace, ensuring baseline knowledge. This became the pre-requisite before the classroom session.
• Classroom sessions were hands-on, scenario-driven, and performance-focused, where learners applied concepts directly to tasks they would perform at work.
• Exercises simulated real work conditions, allowing learners to practice, ask questions, and build confidence before independent application.

This approach struck a balance – learners were prepared and knowledgeable, yet the training remained practical, relevant, and performance-oriented.

Watching him, I realised that:

“A good training design is both art and science. It cannot always be a one-size fits all approach. You have to respect theory when necessary but always keep one eye on the end goal – the learners’ competence and capability in the real world.”

This brought me to a principle I now hold dear – training at work should always have a purpose. Even when you attend sessions on communication, personal grooming, or presentation skills, the goal is not just self-improvement — it’s about being better at your role, projecting credibility, and performing effectively.

Training should be intentional, focused on reskilling or upskilling, and delivered based on actual need, not “just because there’s a course available.”

When the purpose of training is clear, relevant and measurable in the work, people:

• Engage meaningfully
• Apply skills immediately
• Retain knowledge
• Take ownership of their development

Without purpose, training risks becoming checkbox learning — attendance driven by perks, not by progress.

Seeing the Differences Clearly

Across my experiences, I’ve learned to articulate the differences between teaching, performance training, and training for professional certification clearly:

Each has its place, each has its limits, and problems arise when we ignore these boundaries.

Standing in Between: What I’ve Learned

I spent my career moving through these worlds – teaching, qualification design, and performance training.

I wasn’t “just a lecturer”.

I wasn’t “just L&D”.

I wasn’t “just a qualification designer”.

I was someone who stood between theory and practice, understanding where learning is about understanding, where it is about doing, and where it is about proving competence.

That perspective allows me to see:

• When teaching is essential
• When training is enough
• When certification must hold the line

And if I reflect on all these experiences, a simple truth emerges:

• Teaching should focus on understanding and transferability
• Performance training should focus on immediate competence in context
• Professional certification training should ensure understanding plus evidence of competence

The difference between how it should be and how it actually is, is obvious — and that gap is where learning leaders must act.

Not rush training for compliance.

Not compress learning for speed.

Not overload classrooms with “just in case” theory.

Learning should not exhaust people. It should enable them.

And when each form of learning is designed — and respected — for what it truly is, learning doesn’t just happen.

It works.