Micro-learning on the Move: Rethinking Coach Development Through Journeys and Stops
Each month I find myself returning to the work of Professor Keith Lyons. Though he passed away in 2020, his blog still feels alive — full of curiosity, generous connections, and questions that invite exploration rather than certainty. Keith had a way of weaving personal encounters with broader ideas, seeing the metaphorical in the everyday.
One post from 2018 captured this perfectly. On his way to the University of Canberra, Keith noticed the new light rail under construction. The first station was being laid down on Northbourne Avenue, a small but significant marker of transformation. He linked this physical journey to his reflections on learning journeys, drawing from Helen Blunden’s work on personal learning plans, Sharon Boller’s maps of learning pathways, and Shannon Tipton’s critique of myths around microlearning.
Keith concluded with a question that still resonates:
what might it mean to see learning as a transformational journey with flexible timetables?
Light Rail, Learning, and Sport
The light rail metaphor fits neatly with sport. Coaches often think of their development as a line of stops: Level 1, Level 2, Advanced, High Performance. A formal route, neatly timetabled. Yet Keith’s writing reminds us that journeys are rarely linear. Some stations are skipped. Some diversions appear. Sometimes the timetable doesn’t suit the traveller.
In sport, the traditional assumption has been that the off-season is the time for coach development. The line pauses, and coaches can step off to attend workshops or conferences. But does learning really need to be off the rails during the competitive season? Must we wait for a gap in the calendar to take the next stop?
What if learning could be integrated within the season itself? What if, instead of demanding a detour, we designed learning to travel with the coach?
Debunking the Myths of Microlearning for Coaches
Shannon Tipton’s seven myths of microlearning, which Keith reflected upon, are useful provocations for sport. Here’s how they might translate into a coaching context:
Myth 1: Microlearning only works off-season. In reality, microlearning thrives when embedded into daily routines. A short reflection after training, or a question asked during a tournament, can be powerful.
Myth 2: Microlearning equals online videos. For coaches, it might be a sideline observation, a 10-minute peer chat, or noticing how athletes respond in the heat of competition.
Myth 3: Microlearning is just chunking content. Breaking a big course into small pieces isn’t enough. It’s about designing moments that are meaningful in context.
Myth 4: Microlearning needs technology. A simple debrief question — “What did you notice about your decision-making today?” — can spark deep learning without a device.
Myth 5: Microlearning is one-size-fits-all. Just as athletes need individualised plans, so too do coaches. Micro-stops should be personal, not generic.
Myth 6: Microlearning is easy to create. In truth, it takes skill to design short, sharp experiences that prompt reflection and change behaviour.
Myth 7: Microlearning is a fad. Humans have always learned this way: piecemeal, iterative, and applied in the flow of life. Microlearning simply names what we’ve always done.
Microlearning in the Season
So how might this look in practice?
Pre-training huddles could include a “learning lens” — two minutes where a coach commits to noticing one thing (e.g., player reactions to setbacks).
In-competition reflections could be framed as microlearning: short debriefs that capture insights under pressure.
Shared clips or prompts after training could focus not on analysis alone, but on “What patterns did you see?”
Seasonal rhythm could distinguish between “major stations” (courses, extended CPD in the off-season) and “tram stops” (quick, contextual learning moments during the season).
In this way, learning becomes part of reality, not an interruption from it.
The Richness of Everyday Work
One personal reflection I carry from Keith’s legacy is his belief in the every when experience — the idea that everyday work, often, holds enormous potential for learning if we attend to it as learners.
Keith supported more than 25 coaches across the United Kingdom, particularly in cricket and rugby, and his work emphasised the richness of the day-to-day. A training session in poor weather, a difficult selection meeting, or a challenging conversation with an athlete — these were not obstacles to learning, but sources of it.
What mattered was how these experiences were processed. With wise reflection, and ideally with a critical-thinking friend alongside, ordinary moments could become extraordinary opportunities for growth.
For coach developers, this is an important reminder. Learning is not always created by us, through programmes or qualifications. It is often happening all around coaches already. Our role may be to help them see the learning potential, to pause at those everyday stations that might otherwise be sped past.
Mapping Personal Learning Journeys
Helen Blunden’s personal learning plan and Sharon Boller’s structured maps remind us that journeys can be guided but still personal. A coach’s microlearning journey might follow six steps:
Notice – What did I see today?
Commit – What will I focus on next time?
Practice – Try a change in the next session.
Repeat/Elaborate – Apply across contexts.
Reflect/Explore – Share with peers or mentors.
Sustain – Embed until it becomes habit.
Such frameworks don’t restrict travel. They offer routes without fixing the destination.
Walking Alongside
Keith also spoke often of the role of the along-sider — someone who walks with you, not in front or behind, but beside you. This spirit of accompaniment captures what coach development can become.
An along-sider sees familiar things with fresh eyes. They help a coach pause at the unnoticed stations on their line. They make the ordinary strange again, so that new insights can emerge. In this way, coach development is less about delivering content and more about walking with — supporting reflection, asking questions, and helping coaches recognise the learning that is already present in their practice.
Whose Tracks?
The bigger question, one Keith would certainly have asked, is: who lays the tracks?
Are learning journeys pre-determined by governing bodies and qualification systems? Or do coaches have freedom to build their own diversions, to pause at stations that matter to them, to experiment with side trips?
Perhaps the role of coach developers is not to build the whole line but to help coaches navigate it: providing maps, suggesting detours, and encouraging exploration.
Towards a Living Classroom
If learning journeys are like light rail, then the key is to make sure the trains are running — not just off-season, but year-round. Stops should be frequent, accessible, and relevant to the traveller.
Keith’s reflection invites us to think differently. Learning does not need to be episodic or confined. Microlearning offers a way of embedding growth into the act of coaching itself. Every practice, every game, every conversation can be a station on the journey.
In honouring his work, perhaps the provocation we should keep asking is this:
What if the act of coaching was not separate from learning, but the very classroom in which it happens?