"Ms. Smith" is quite right--I am dismayed with the level of world knowledge my students possess. Jay Leno used to do a segment called "Jaywalking", which highlighted this and was used as a comedic tool. Sadly, it is just the opposite---a tragedy.
So much to say about such a deeply disturbing topic.
This appears to be the result of a perfect storm comprising a dizzying array of factors. The educational industry from top to bottom would be the leading suspect. But add to this the advent of social media as it now is, morphed into the current mortification of laziness-inducing smorgasbord of instant gratification. So many things. Kids don't read. There is no good reason for this. There never was a good reason for this. There are too many bad reasons for this, to count.
As if reading escaped from the barn, got over the hedge, under the fence, around the wall, skipped town, got away, and otherwise became as abandoned as an orphan child on a summer Sunday found upon the steps of a 19th Century workhouse. Oops. Look what happened when we weren't looking.
Much to say about reading and just what foundational bedrock it is to a substantial and solid education, one that can withstand the rigors, the challenges and the tests of time (witness current events and pop revolutions posing as new and improved ways of being for humans).
But before all that. The basis of knowledge. I recall a different time. A time when at the tender age of 8, in the dead heat of summer, poised to embark upon the middle grades of elementary school (that would be grade four & five)) long, vigorous and extended pissing contests with my neighborhood friends about who knew what, and to what degree, and to what extent, and how much they could actually back that knowledge up, and how unassailable it appeared to be to our inquiring, curious and ever so slightly (then) sarcastic, cynical and emerging suspicious minds. Oh Yeah? we chorused.
The thing is, we knew stuff. The tallest building in the world. The highest mountain. The important dates of WW2. The largest animal in the world, and of course, the largest animal that had ever lived. And cascading thousands and thousands of other wee tasty tidbits such as this. Gathered hither and yon, as if we were the true hunter gatherers of valuable things to know.
And so it went, and kept on going. How to fix a bike. And then how to fix a car. As well as long drawn histories of heroic mythology, separated from what was actual and real.
And then eventually storming our way into cosmology itself, examining infinity, and razors' edges of philosophical pretzel twists without having a clue that this was in fact, what we were doing.
How did all of this get done? Easy. We found most of it in books. But more to the point, it stuck like glue. It stuck because of the time it took to look it up, read about it, comprehend what was read, think about it, and file it away.
There is a theory about compounded knowledge-crunching. Imagine thinking one's way through a thing, a problem, a conundrum, a complexity, a perplexity. And in so doing, calling up layers upon layers of previously stored away memory files, drawn up in an instant. All this in the time it takes to speak it out loud, or write it down. No google search.
And so comes that fluid, blessed, weaving, elegant, articulated dance with ideas. The more it's done, the more lovely is the choreography. The bolder and more confident, the more adept, the more strident and useful, the deeper it goes and steeper it climbs. This life of the mind. Weaving throughout a social life, a boxed set of acknowledged accomplishments that allow one into court proceedings, challenges, debate, call for clarification, struggle for understanding, and that voyage down through the ages of human artistry.
That's a lot to answer for. That's even more to leave out, or leave behind, or forget that once upon a time it mattered, and how, and why.
But oh, so most importantly, the bare beginnings of all this stuff can start so tenderly young. It is truly wonderful. So when this does not happen (as if we've forgotten how, or just what necessity called for it) we are handicapping children in a most awful way.
Children are born with insatiable curiosities for a reason. They have traveled (from wherever they've traveled from) and arrived alive, and quite naturally, like visiting aliens upon our planet and to this existence, are curious as to what makes all this tick. Why would they not be?
So to feed the flames of this fire and watch it burn is an incredible thing.
On the other hand, to quench it, stamp it out (or worse, capture its essence for selfish reasons) is a criminal thing.
Not too long ago, out of sheer and utter bored absence of motivation to do anything more productive, I decided to have some fun with an online quiz, which prompted me to name un-named countries in the world. Away we went in a whirl. The algorithm strove mightily, and threw everything but the kitchen sink at me, but after about 100 or so questions, finally gave up. I had drawn a perfect score.
So what, you say.
Well, there is that.
But the point is, when for whatever reason something or someone draws my attention to somewhere in the world where something or other is going on, I know where it is. Just that. And often I know a whole lot more about the place than just its mere location. Just because.
It so happens that I am not American. But I know very much more about American geography, history, climate, geology, culture, and a host of other things, than do many Americans. I don't make a big deal about this. It is neither their fault, nor my own. It is just that as a kid, America was my laboratory, my petri dish, my library, my documented data source, my fascination, and many other things. What made it all work was the set of tools I'd been handed to take it all apart and then put it all back together again. That is an education.
No-one ever really told me back then what my education was supposed to do, or be for. It was understood that it was up to me to figure that one out. Imagine. That kind of freedom.
That land of the free bit. I always got that. Like second nature. Like a thing born to. Like the spin of a bicycle wheel, like the swirl and crunch of ice skates, like a high dive off a low cliff into sun-sparkled water, like the dazzlement of being caught in the gaze of a hawk, like the big wheel of Milky Way's arm curling around us in a black sky, as if no more soothing lullabye could ever exist.
And so on.
I don't know if this point can be proven. Knowing and understanding things, literacy and all its consequences, a lifelong sentence of a sense of wonder, surprise and gratitude for all of it.
I could not ever quite understand myself, just what might be better than this.
"Ms. Smith" is quite right--I am dismayed with the level of world knowledge my students possess. Jay Leno used to do a segment called "Jaywalking", which highlighted this and was used as a comedic tool. Sadly, it is just the opposite---a tragedy.
So much to say about such a deeply disturbing topic.
This appears to be the result of a perfect storm comprising a dizzying array of factors. The educational industry from top to bottom would be the leading suspect. But add to this the advent of social media as it now is, morphed into the current mortification of laziness-inducing smorgasbord of instant gratification. So many things. Kids don't read. There is no good reason for this. There never was a good reason for this. There are too many bad reasons for this, to count.
As if reading escaped from the barn, got over the hedge, under the fence, around the wall, skipped town, got away, and otherwise became as abandoned as an orphan child on a summer Sunday found upon the steps of a 19th Century workhouse. Oops. Look what happened when we weren't looking.
Much to say about reading and just what foundational bedrock it is to a substantial and solid education, one that can withstand the rigors, the challenges and the tests of time (witness current events and pop revolutions posing as new and improved ways of being for humans).
But before all that. The basis of knowledge. I recall a different time. A time when at the tender age of 8, in the dead heat of summer, poised to embark upon the middle grades of elementary school (that would be grade four & five)) long, vigorous and extended pissing contests with my neighborhood friends about who knew what, and to what degree, and to what extent, and how much they could actually back that knowledge up, and how unassailable it appeared to be to our inquiring, curious and ever so slightly (then) sarcastic, cynical and emerging suspicious minds. Oh Yeah? we chorused.
The thing is, we knew stuff. The tallest building in the world. The highest mountain. The important dates of WW2. The largest animal in the world, and of course, the largest animal that had ever lived. And cascading thousands and thousands of other wee tasty tidbits such as this. Gathered hither and yon, as if we were the true hunter gatherers of valuable things to know.
And so it went, and kept on going. How to fix a bike. And then how to fix a car. As well as long drawn histories of heroic mythology, separated from what was actual and real.
And then eventually storming our way into cosmology itself, examining infinity, and razors' edges of philosophical pretzel twists without having a clue that this was in fact, what we were doing.
How did all of this get done? Easy. We found most of it in books. But more to the point, it stuck like glue. It stuck because of the time it took to look it up, read about it, comprehend what was read, think about it, and file it away.
There is a theory about compounded knowledge-crunching. Imagine thinking one's way through a thing, a problem, a conundrum, a complexity, a perplexity. And in so doing, calling up layers upon layers of previously stored away memory files, drawn up in an instant. All this in the time it takes to speak it out loud, or write it down. No google search.
And so comes that fluid, blessed, weaving, elegant, articulated dance with ideas. The more it's done, the more lovely is the choreography. The bolder and more confident, the more adept, the more strident and useful, the deeper it goes and steeper it climbs. This life of the mind. Weaving throughout a social life, a boxed set of acknowledged accomplishments that allow one into court proceedings, challenges, debate, call for clarification, struggle for understanding, and that voyage down through the ages of human artistry.
That's a lot to answer for. That's even more to leave out, or leave behind, or forget that once upon a time it mattered, and how, and why.
But oh, so most importantly, the bare beginnings of all this stuff can start so tenderly young. It is truly wonderful. So when this does not happen (as if we've forgotten how, or just what necessity called for it) we are handicapping children in a most awful way.
Children are born with insatiable curiosities for a reason. They have traveled (from wherever they've traveled from) and arrived alive, and quite naturally, like visiting aliens upon our planet and to this existence, are curious as to what makes all this tick. Why would they not be?
So to feed the flames of this fire and watch it burn is an incredible thing.
On the other hand, to quench it, stamp it out (or worse, capture its essence for selfish reasons) is a criminal thing.
Not too long ago, out of sheer and utter bored absence of motivation to do anything more productive, I decided to have some fun with an online quiz, which prompted me to name un-named countries in the world. Away we went in a whirl. The algorithm strove mightily, and threw everything but the kitchen sink at me, but after about 100 or so questions, finally gave up. I had drawn a perfect score.
So what, you say.
Well, there is that.
But the point is, when for whatever reason something or someone draws my attention to somewhere in the world where something or other is going on, I know where it is. Just that. And often I know a whole lot more about the place than just its mere location. Just because.
It so happens that I am not American. But I know very much more about American geography, history, climate, geology, culture, and a host of other things, than do many Americans. I don't make a big deal about this. It is neither their fault, nor my own. It is just that as a kid, America was my laboratory, my petri dish, my library, my documented data source, my fascination, and many other things. What made it all work was the set of tools I'd been handed to take it all apart and then put it all back together again. That is an education.
No-one ever really told me back then what my education was supposed to do, or be for. It was understood that it was up to me to figure that one out. Imagine. That kind of freedom.
That land of the free bit. I always got that. Like second nature. Like a thing born to. Like the spin of a bicycle wheel, like the swirl and crunch of ice skates, like a high dive off a low cliff into sun-sparkled water, like the dazzlement of being caught in the gaze of a hawk, like the big wheel of Milky Way's arm curling around us in a black sky, as if no more soothing lullabye could ever exist.
And so on.
I don't know if this point can be proven. Knowing and understanding things, literacy and all its consequences, a lifelong sentence of a sense of wonder, surprise and gratitude for all of it.
I could not ever quite understand myself, just what might be better than this.