For the past few months, I’ve been taking Master Gardener classes through Washington State University. It’s like drinking from two firehouses with a week devoted to each topic, including botany and plant pathology, pesticides and fertilizers, wood and herbaceous plants, fruits and vegetables, vertebrate pests and entomology. Not to mention plant problems, landscape design, greenhouses, soil, and irrigation.

Most of my classmates are quaking in their boots with the prospect of having to dispense sage advice if someone approaches them at a plant clinic with a shriveled leaf, expecting them to identify the plant, share the Latin name, and determine its woe.

As the weeks pass, words and concepts, which seemed foreign a few weeks ago, are now familiar. While we’ll all progress from students to interns, and eventually, Master Gardeners, we’ll need years of additional study, attending events, and engaging with other Master Gardeners before we’re somewhat competent.

And even then, we may only be proficient in specific areas, like pruning, growing native plants, or raising worms (vermiculture).

So, what does it mean to be qualified?

Throughout my career, I’ve worked with countless people who talked the talk, and had years of experience, but struggled to do the work. They hid behind a veneer of competence, skirting tasks that are tactical or extend beyond their self-imposed narrow scope, fearful they’ll be exposed.

A key part of our training as Master Gardeners is permission to say, “I don’t know,” and then research the answer. The ability to not only admit what you don’t know, but the resolve to find the answer, learn the necessary skills, and confer with experts is what turns a neophyte into a qualified professional.