The lesson
Discover looks like a lookup table, and that is exactly why most people learn nothing from it. You pick a key, you read the roman numerals, you nod, you leave. Reading is not practice. The mode becomes a practice route the moment you make it a call-and-check loop: you predict, then you press, then you compare. Prediction is what forces the knowledge out of the screen and into your hands.
The unit of work here is the key, not the chord. A key is seven chords that share a neighbourhood: three major, three minor, one diminished, in a fixed order — I, ii, iii, IV, V, vi, vii°. That order never changes in any major key. Once you can recite the pattern of qualities without the key attached, you own every major key at once, and Discover stops being a reference and becomes a test you can grade yourself on in ten seconds.
Then add sound to sight. Every time you reveal a chord, play it, hold it, and say out loud what it does: home, away, tension, resolution, sad-relative, unstable. Function is easier to remember than spelling, and it is the thing you actually reach for when you are writing. Nobody sits at a keyboard thinking 'I need the third diatonic triad'. They think 'I need the one that sounds like a doorway'.
Finish by breaking the key. Play the diatonic seven, then borrow one chord from the parallel minor — usually iv or ♭VII — and hear how much colour a single outside chord buys you. That contrast is the reason to learn the inside of the key in the first place.
