Sometimes the best way to learn something difficult is to build a tool that helps you learn it.

That’s exactly what happened recently while I was working on memorizing written passages for my work in Freemasonry.

Anyone who has ever tried to memorize formal or historical language knows that it can be surprisingly difficult. The wording is precise, the phrasing can feel archaic, and every word matters. In Virginia, where I practice, there is a strong expectation that passages are remembered exactly and in the correct order.

For someone like me, that can be challenging.

In fact, it was one of the reasons I hesitated to join Freemasonry a few years ago. I wasn’t sure how well I could keep up with the memorization requirements. Eventually, I learned that there are often alternative ways to demonstrate proficiency, recognizing that people have different amounts of available time and different ways of learning.

My instinct when learning something new has always been to understand the meaning behind the words first. I tend to focus on concepts, relationships, and the ideas that a passage is trying to convey. When I encounter unusual phrasing or grammar that feels different from modern English, I want to understand why it was written that way.

That approach works well for understanding ideas, but it doesn’t always translate into the ability to recite something word-for-word.

Learning How I Learn

Part of this journey actually goes all the way back to my childhood.

Growing up, I had a learning disability and spent much of elementary and middle school in special education (SpEd) classes. My parents were often told that I had trouble following instructions. From the outside, it sometimes looked like I simply wasn’t paying attention or wasn’t trying hard enough.

But the reality was a little different.

Many instructions felt ambiguous to me. Sometimes the wording could be interpreted more than one way, and by the time I started working on the task, I might remember the general idea of the instructions but not the exact wording. That meant I would begin working in the direction I thought was correct, only to discover later that I had misunderstood something subtle.

Over time, I became extremely cautious when reading instructions. I learned to look closely at the wording, almost expecting that there might be some small detail hidden in the phrasing that could change the meaning.

You can see this mindset show up in many places, even today. For example, those controversial math puzzles that circulate on social media—where people argue endlessly about the correct answer—don’t interest me very much. Most of the time, they are written in ways that are intentionally ambiguous or poorly formatted, triggering arguments between people who were taught different conventions for order of operations.

To me, that’s not a math problem. That’s a badly written instruction.

Another challenge I dealt with growing up was reading comprehension – especially under time pressure. I could read through a paragraph several times and still struggle to remember the specific details. During tests, I often had to read the question first, then go back through the passage—sometimes multiple times—to find the exact information being asked for.

It slowed me down, but it also trained me to focus on understanding context and relationships between ideas.

Because of that, my natural learning style developed in a very specific direction.

When I encounter text, I don’t immediately try to memorize it. I try to understand:

• what the passage is trying to communicate
• how the ideas connect together
• why certain phrases are written the way they are

Only after that do I start worrying about remembering the exact wording.

Meaning First, Then Words

That approach works well for understanding concepts, but it creates an interesting challenge when the goal is verbatim recitation.

In Freemasonry, especially in Virginia, accuracy matters. Words are expected to be spoken exactly and in the correct order. At the same time, many of the phrases come from an older style of English that feels unfamiliar compared to how we speak today.

They are also written with careful and deliberate grammar, including the proper use of prepositions and prepositional phrases.

Ironically, that’s an area of English that I struggled with growing up.

In high school, I disliked grammar lessons intensely, especially anything involving prepositions or sentence diagramming. By the time I reached 11th grade English, things had gone poorly enough that I failed the class and had to retake it the following year.

At the time, I didn’t have much appreciation for the mechanics of language.

Now I find myself working through passages that are full of carefully structured grammar, precise wording, and prepositional phrases placed exactly where they belong.

There’s a certain irony in that.

So while I’m trying to memorize the words, part of my mind is still analyzing them:

• Why is this phrase written this way?
• Why is that word used instead of another?
• What idea is this line trying to convey?

It’s not that I’m resisting memorization. It’s that my brain wants to understand the structure before it commits the wording to memory.

When Modern English Gets in the Way

One of the things I’ve noticed while working through these passages is how much my brain wants to “correct” the wording into modern English.

In particular, I keep wanting to insert the article “the” in places where it doesn’t appear in the original text.

In contemporary English we use articles constantly—the, a, and an. They are such a normal part of speech that when they are missing, a sentence can feel incomplete.

But older forms of English often used articles differently, and sometimes omitted them entirely. When reading or reciting passages written more than a century ago, you begin to notice that the language follows patterns that feel slightly unfamiliar today.

My instinct is to “fix” those sentences as I speak them.

Of course, that defeats the purpose when the goal is to recite the words exactly as they were written. Instead, I have to remember to say them as they were originally written, even when modern English habits urge me to change them.

Interestingly, I’ve encountered this kind of linguistic difference before. Years ago, I worked with a manager who was originally from Turkey. She occasionally asked me to review emails she was writing in English, and one thing I noticed was that the article “the” would often be missing.

At first, I assumed it was simply a small grammatical oversight, but she explained that she had learned English in the UK, where, in certain contexts, articles are used a bit more sparingly. Once I understood that, the emails made much more sense. However, because she was writing to an American audience, the articles still needed to be added.

Language habits are surprisingly persistent.

When you spend decades speaking one way, it takes real effort to retrain your brain to reproduce phrasing that comes from a different era or tradition.

That’s another reason the flash card system has helped me. It forces me to see the phrases exactly as they are written, rather than as my brain thinks they should be.

And when the goal is accurate recitation, those little words matter.

Notes in the Margins

Anyone who has seen my study materials or Bible would probably notice something immediately: the margins are full of notes, and the text is often highlighted or underlined.

Over time, I’ve filled the pages with definitions of words I looked up, small reminders about what certain phrases mean, and other notes that help me understand the structure of the passage. In some places, I’ve even written letters or cues on the back of a page to help me remember how the previous page ends when I begin reciting the next section.

For me, that kind of annotation turns the text from something I’m trying to memorize into something I’m actively studying.

One time someone noticed the markings and asked whether a particular part of the work was meant to be learned strictly through oral instruction. Instead of answering directly, I showed how the notes matched the wording on the previous page. The cues were simply there to help me reconnect the flow of the passage.

It’s another example of the way I tend to approach learning. Rather than relying on memory alone, I build small structures around the material to understand how the pieces connect.

Respecting Oral Tradition

There are also important boundaries to keep in mind.

Many parts of Masonic education are passed down strictly through oral instruction, and those portions should remain that way. No tools, notes, written aids, or electronic communication should be used for material that is meant to be learned only through direct teaching in person.

However, many parts of the work are written and published, and those sections can be studied using different methods.

For the written portions, I realized there was nothing wrong with experimenting with better ways to learn. If I can become comfortable with the written material on my own, it may make it easier to learn the oral portions later, especially since they often follow similar patterns and structure.

Turning Memorization Into a Puzzle

The idea that helped me the most was to break the passage into small groups of words and print them onto cards.

Each card contains a short phrase. After cutting them apart, I shuffle the cards and then try to place them back into the correct order.

Once I’m done, I can flip the cards over to see the sequence numbers printed on the back to verify the order.

Instead of staring at a block of text, the passage becomes something I can physically reconstruct, almost like solving a puzzle.

That simple change activates different kinds of memory:

• visual memory
• spatial memory
• structural understanding

And surprisingly, it works.

Increasing the Challenge Gradually

After experimenting with the idea, I realized the cards could be used in stages.

First, I generate cards with three words per card, which helps me recognize the phrases.

Then I generate additional decks where the phrases are offset by one or two words. This prevents my brain from memorizing the card groupings themselves and forces me to learn the actual sequence of words.

Later, I switch to line-based grouping, which helps me learn the cadence and rhythm of the passage when spoken aloud.

Finally, I use blank placeholders that hide certain words so I can test whether I truly remember them.

Each stage removes a little support until the words can be spoken naturally.

Building a Tool for It

What started as a quick Node.js script to generate these cards eventually turned into a small open-source project.

The project now includes two versions that share the same configuration:

• a Node.js command-line generator
• a browser-based version that runs entirely on GitHub Pages

The web version means anyone can paste text into the page and generate printable flash cards without installing anything. Everything runs locally in the browser.

What the Tool Can Do

Before describing the features, it’s important to note an important boundary.

The tool is intended only for studying publicly available or written material. It should never be used for anything that is meant to be learned strictly through oral instruction.

The flash card generator can:

• group text by word count, sentence, or line
• shift phrases using word offsets
• highlight important anchor words or phrases
• generate blank placeholders for recall practice
• print card backs with order hints
• intelligently handle repeated phrases
• produce printable sheets with cut marks

Because the configuration is stored as JSON, it’s easy to experiment with different study styles.

A Pleasant Surprise

This morning, I arrived early at the lodge and began assembling my cards in the social hall.

When my mentor arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see the system in action and even joined in for a bit, occasionally hiding cards that were out of order until I worked through the section again.

Afterward we went into the lodge room and continued practicing.

That moment confirmed that the method was actually helping.

The Next Challenge

My mentor mentioned that there is another part of the craft that many people struggle to learn. Interestingly, it’s also one of the sections that is written in my training materials.

His explanation was that it lacks a natural cadence and has gone through a revision with an addition. Because of that, the wording doesn’t flow as smoothly as in other passages, making it harder for people to memorize and recite.

Naturally, that caught my attention immediately.

My plan now is to try learning it using the same puzzle method I’ve been experimenting with—breaking the text into small phrases, reconstructing it repeatedly, and gradually removing the hints until the wording becomes familiar.

Part of me would like to see if I can actually surprise him a bit by showing up already comfortable with the passage.

And knowing myself, I’ll probably end up doing something else along the way as well: tracking down the original source to see how it was written before all the changes were added.

Understanding where a passage comes from often helps me understand how it fits together.

And if history is any indication, that curiosity will probably lead to another small research project.

Open Source for Anyone Who Finds It Useful

Since the tool grew beyond what I needed for myself, I released it as open source.

It was originally created to help with my own studies in Freemasonry, but the same method works for memorizing almost anything:

• speeches
• historical documents
• poems
• scripts
• language learning
• study passages

Sometimes the best way to solve a learning problem is to build something that makes the process a little easier.

A Familiar Example

For the sample text included with the project, I decided to use a portion of the Declaration of Independence.

Part of the reason was simply practicality. It’s a passage that many people already recognize, which makes it easier to demonstrate how the flash-card generator works.

But there was also another reason.

As our country approaches the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, it seemed fitting to use a text that has shaped the language and ideals of the United States for nearly two and a half centuries.

The opening lines are also a good example of the kind of language that benefits from this learning method. The phrases are carefully structured, the ideas build on one another, and the wording follows patterns that are easier to see once the passage is broken into smaller pieces.

It also gave me a chance to lift my hat to the Sons of the American Revolution, an organization I am proud to be a member of. Studying the words and ideas that helped shape our nation feels especially appropriate at a time when many communities are reflecting on the meaning of that history.

Of course, the tool itself can be used with almost any text. But starting with the Declaration felt like a fitting place to begin.

Try It Yourself

Interactive version:

https://lewismoten.github.io/Flash-Card-Sheet-Maker

Source code:

https://github.com/lewismoten/Flash-Card-Sheet-Maker

If you try it, I’d love to hear how you end up using it.

You might discover that turning memorization into a puzzle makes the whole process a lot more enjoyable.