I learned it.
Someone taught it in a class where I learned; but, my teacher is the first to admit he failed to teach it, just like I’m admitting that I failed to teach it.
I didn’t fail to learn it, however.
So, there’s something about me, which is not unique, but appears to be uncommon, that leads me to learning this material successfully.
This notion discourages me.
If the thing at the heart of learning this material is an innate predisposition to learning the material, any effort to create the mini-universe of the classroom is irrelevant. That effort might make it easier for the pre-disposed to learn it, but it does crap for everyone else.
It’s discouraging because I want to share a capability I have.
The two most common things I hear in peer-feedback are:  You do an amazing job energizing and organizing teams and  nobody ever knows what in the hell you are talking about.
I attribute my success working with teams to my ability to detect and address dysfunction before it happens — to get at the team’s attitude. For that, I have a framework based on grammar, drama, and logic that I use to detect, classify, and act on team attitudes.
I figured, since people seem to appreciate what is I do, I’d take (another) run at teaching people how to do it.
So, this is where I leave it: a reasonable entertainer and a lousy teacher.
People have neither the time nor the energy to climb this hill. I haven’t the insight, experience, or genius to know how to construct a model universe to account of this fact.
It does speak well of me, I think, that possessing a quality that gives me a competitive advantage, I direct my energy toward sharing it rather than hoarding it.
Unless I can find a way of tricking people into learning small amounts of knowledge over a very long period of time, I’m out of options.