Musings
Do I Want To Know?
Ignorance is bliss.
Or so they say.
And as we hurtle through the German countryside, on this train voyage from Berlin to Frankfurt, on the last leg of our summer adventure abroad, I believe it may be true.
Throughout this trip, I’ve had access to wireless connections and have checked my email regularly, followed Facebook postings and Twitter messages, but not to the same extent I do at home.
I haven’t read the newspaper each morning, I haven’t listened to broadcast news, and I haven’t been voraciously consuming the ups and downs of world events, whether trivial or significant. It helps that many of our accommodation spots have not provided access to a television or that we’ve been too busy exploring to watch.
So while I’ve been connected, I haven’t been obsessed and that’s opened room in my thoughts and daily experience to a stronger sense of well-being.
Which is an odd place to be for someone who is an advocate of digesting information regularly, of learning, of being aware that the world is so much more than our immediate circles of influence.
So if ignorance is bliss, why bother with education?
In thinking about this question, I realize how value-laden the field of education is as is the contemplation of what constitutes the qualities of our existence as social beings.
We talk about believing in better, but what’s better?
We talk about the value of knowledge, but what is knowledge?
We talk about leading good lives, but what constitutes a good life?
In addition, as I contemplate the historical record (traveling in Europe seems to make history somehow more real and pressing), I realize that crimes and atrocities, throughout the centuries and in our own day, are or have been committed by well-educated people.
Education has not acted as a barrier to tragedy, war, deprivation, suffering, inequality, and injustice.
And while I have a feeling the key is to keep asking questions rather than settling on fixed answers, there is one conclusion I feel able to draw with some certainty.
The most important result of education is to enable people to become and to be critical thinkers. And while the search for consensus may be integral to making progressive changes (what is progress? why change?), individual voices are needed now more than ever as is tolerance for different points of view.
And that’s a troubling aspect of political life in Canada and elsewhere along with the evolution of our mainstream media systems. It seems the goal is to manipulate citizens into thinking en masse by removing dissension and erasing individuality.
I can’t help feeling that we should – at this point in time and with the lessons of history – know better.
Ignorance may be bliss, but, as my nephew says (he’s recently graduated from the University of Bradford Peace Studies Department) “blissed” ignorance is not just.
Perhaps that’s the ultimate purpose of education then: to establish, maintain, and sustain just societies.
If so, let’s get on with it.
The Tracks Of Her Tears
I saw the mother of a young man cry last week.
Her tears weren’t tears of grief and loss.
Rather, the tracks of her tears captured a story of love, bewilderment, perseverance, disappointment, faith, despair, relief, pride, and thankfulness.
Why?
Her son had graduated.
Such a pedestrian sound to this accomplishment: her son had graduated.
But it’s only pedestrian because high school graduation has become an expected (minimal) norm in our world.
However, it’s a mistake to assume high school graduation is automatic even in a community such as West Vancouver which boasts a 97% graduation rate.
There’s the perception that all the children in this community will make it, that they all have an easy ride.
Wrong.
It’s a mistake to assume that the glittering mantle of expensive housing, disposable income, and stable family is the reality for each child. It’s wrong to assume they will thrive in our high schools.
That’s why we have ACCESS.
Located at West Vancouver Secondary School, ACCESS
“… is an alternate school program designed to provide an opportunity for students who require this unique setting to complete the requirements for high school graduation.
In addition to the basic academic program, ACCESS also provides students with the following opportunities.
- 10 day Bowron Lakes wilderness experience
- Participate in various local outdoor activities
- Access to community youth services
- Work experience
- Apprenticeship
Admission is through an interview process…”
The ACCESS grad luncheon this past week was an opportunity to recognize the accomplishments of remarkable young people who had done what is expected of many, but which was not a guaranteed outcome for them.
And in a society which increasingly favours conformity and compliance, they did so while holding on to their unique forms of self-expression, their standout personalities, and saying “I’ll do what you ask, but I’m doing it my way”.
That is strength of character, courage, and conviction.
At ACCESS collaboration is a lifeline. There’s a dedicated team of teachers and youth workers who guide these students and who are joined by representatives from community partners such as the District of West Vancouver Community Services, the West Vancouver Police Department, Vancouver Coastal Health, the Ambleside Youth Centre, and local businesses.
In hindsight, maybe the tears of that young man’s mother did denote loss of a kind. They reflected the grief she’s carried with her knowing her son’s journey has been immeasurably tougher than many of his peers.
But there was more in her eyes.
There was joy. Despite the obstacles, her son had reached this milestone and was publicly recognized for doing so.
There was hope. Hope that it was, after all, going to be fine.
What more could I ask for than to be associated with a system which provides joy and hope to those who are at risk and vulnerable?
A system that is not taken in by the appearance of the community’s “perfection”, but which understands that unless our “diamonds in the rough” have a place to call their own, then our claims of excellence will ring hollow.
To The Graduating Class of 2013
My remarks to the Sentinel Secondary School graduating class of 2013. Another version of this presentation was delivered to the Rockridge graduating class on May 17, 2013. This is a full transcript of my words and as is typical with verbal presentations, adjustments and/or changes may have been made while speaking.
Thank you. Merci.
I’m so pleased to be here tonight. Je suis très heureuse d’être ici avec vous ce soir.
On behalf of the West Van Board of Education, my congratulations to all this year’s graduates. Félicitations!
I know many of you are wondering who is this talking head and why does she get to speak at my grad?
Well, in the November 2011 municipal elections I and four others were elected by West Van residents to serve as Trustees on the Board of Education.
That means my colleagues and I help to oversee the public education system in our community and that along with your teachers, the staff at the school and the district, parents and yourselves, we have a measure of responsibility and accountability for your education from kindergarten through to Grade 12.
I also happen to be a graduate of school district 45.
Even though I’ve been around the District on and off since I was twelve, and even though I’ve been to Sentinel a number of times, I wanted to get a better feel for the school and its students before I spoke tonight.
I phoned up Principal Mike Finch and asked if we could tour the school together. And we did. I got to see some of you at work and some of you at play. I had a look into many of the classrooms and then I asked Mr. Finch to tell me about you, to tell me about students at Sentinel.
I’m just gonna give you a moment to think about what he told me.
No, he didn’t say that. Oh, he’d never say that, would he? No way. Uhuh.
What he did tell me is how impressed he has been by the students at Sentinel. How dedicated you are and how motivated you are to succeed on your own terms whether you’re studying French, pursuing your athletic interests in the academies, or being super achievers.
Barb Sunday, one of your amazing art leaders told me during my visit to the school, that she’d sent off about 50 advanced placement art portfolios for consideration. 50! And if you stop by the Ferry Building Gallery at the foot of 14th Street, you’ll see some of that art on display.
What you’ll also see there is the commitment you’ve made to pursuing your passions and the care you’ve taken to excel in the work you do.
And tonight we’re here to celebrate your accomplishments.
For parents, it’s a bittersweet moment, likely tinged with a sense of relief! Tonight is a chance to celebrate the wonderful individuals you’ve become and yet we also have to be prepared to let you go.
That’s what parents do.
And like parents, the teachers, the administration, and all the staff of the West Van school district – even Trustees, we all have to do our best to make sure you grads have the skills and talents you need to continue to succeed. And now you’re moving on.
But it’s not easy as parents or teachers or administrators to let you go because we know that the journey can sometimes be a challenge.
I would like to share with you some words by the Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran. In his poem on children, he writes:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
As Gibran says, you, our graduates, you live in tomorrow and we are not here to stand in your way.
You’ve worked hard or maybe you haven’t. You’ve had good days and bad. You’ve made friends, you’ve lost friends. You’ve studied, you’ve learned. You’ve been on a journey and now you’re set for the next stage of life whatever that may be for you.
And what do you need to successfully navigate what’s ahead?
To borrow the words of Canadian musicians David Myles and Classified, you need to embrace your inner ninja.
Be fierce and determined and passionate. Dream big and take action.
Stand up for yourself. More importantly, stand up for others.
Stand up for what you believe. More importantly, be tolerant and allow others to speak up for what they believe.
Stand up for what is right. More importantly, be open to different views and adjust your ideas if warranted.
And finally, Sentinel grads, take all that we — the community, the school District, the administration, your teachers, and your parents — take all that we have given you, take all that you are, and make the world you are inheriting, make it better.
Make the world better for you, for me, and for those who have so much less than either of us.
I know you can do it. I know you can do it.
Thank you and bonne chance!
Being Human and the Loss of Perspective in Politics
Errare humanum est [To err is human]. – Anonymous: Latin
For to err in opinion, though it be not the part of wise men, is at least human. – Plutarch (46-120 C.E.)
I presume you’re mortal, and may err. – James Shirley (1596-1666)
To err is human, to forgive divine. – Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
Then gently scan your brother man,/ Still gentler sister woman;/ Though they may gang a kennin’ wrang. To step aside is human. – Robert Burns, Address to the Unco Guid [1787]
“Address to the Unco Guid’ makes the point that it is this natural sympathy and compassion that is important in society: not self-righteous condemnation.” – Juliet Linden Bicket
I remembered Alexander Pope’s words this week as I watched events unfold in the BC provincial election. When I checked my copy of Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations to verify them, the footnotes led me to other quotes on the same theme and to Google for the full text of the Burns poem where I found the comment by Bicket.
And despite these wise words, which span approximately 2,000 years of human history, it would seem that in our time the motto has become “to err is human and to forgive is impossible”.
Or maybe even more to the point, “to err is human and let’s make sure everyone’s mistakes are never forgotten”.
And given our rush to judge others on this principle, it seems to me that the greatest disincentive to running for public office has become the process of getting elected.
While this trend has been emerging over time, it seems to have bloomed with noxious fervour in this election.
We’re all on the lookout for “bozo eruptions”. That’s the term applied to the actions of candidates who slip up in real time, but everything has become fair game: whether a word that’s said today or over 20 years ago, whether a misstep now or one from long ago.
And I have to ask what added value, if any, is there in this “new” way of doing politics. Does it benefit voters? Does it allow society to progress? Does it ensure the health and vitality of our democratic institutions?
Why?
Because we have made perfection a condition of holding office and yet no one is perfect. It’s not human.
Because we have lost perspective. If anything from any point in our lives can be construed as a liability, then we lose the ability to distinguish between misdemeanors and serious crimes.
Because we have forgotten that living involves choices and that we sometimes make bad choices, particularly when we’re young. But we learn and those mistakes do not necessarily or automatically make us incapable, incompetent, or untrustworthy for life.
Because setting up impossible standards for conduct and behaviour lead to unreasonable controls being implemented to maintain power once it’s been secured.
And that’s why we have a parliament full of men and women commonly derided as trained seals.
We have parliaments and legislatures which we denigrate and political representatives whom we disrespect. We have governments, political parties, and candidates who are more focused on slander and defamation, on digging up the dirt, than they are on policy and good governance.
And that’s an unforgivable mistake.
Connections? Priceless
In today’s opening essay for Q, the CBC radio show, host Jian Ghomeshi remembered Roger Ebert and the interview he conducted with the famed film critic a year ago.
Jian described how concerned he’d felt about his ability to connect with Mr. Ebert in the studio given the latter’s health challenges. “I needn’t have,” he said.
His words this morning paid tribute to the man, but they also served as a testament to the power of connection.
Listening to Jian made me reflect on my own feelings now that the spring term at SFU is drawing to a close. I’m not completely disentangled from my teaching obligations yet: I’m expecting final essays from my students next week.
But there are no further lectures for the course and no remaining tutorials. And that makes me wistful.
Why?
Because the end of the term represents a loss. The connections I’ve forged with my students after thirteen weeks of working together are now tenuous if not severed. I may have gained back time for my own work and my other commitments, but I am no longer a part of these particular journeys, the unfolding lives of these particular individuals.
Since my first stint as a TA, I’ve connected with approximately 120 students. 120 students from a variety of faculties and departments, given the way course requirements are structured at SFU, and 120 students who represent the gamut of undergraduate experience.
Aside from the occasional encounter on campus, I don’t know where they are now or what they are doing or how they are faring.
When I walk around the Burnaby campus now, a movie reel of sorts plays out in my mind: momentary flashes of memories, frames filled with faces, snippets of conversations, disappointments, and noted accomplishments.
The characters of my movies are students: those with strong opinions, those with a sense of humour, those who struggled, those who exceeded their own expectations, and those who were observers yet offered so much when they found the courage to voice their opinions.
The plot revolves around classic texts of Western civilization and delving for insights into the human condition, then and now. Work on writing, developing critical thinking skills, and trying my best to impart the importance of questioning.
A few students have reconnected via LinkedIn and others lurk on Twitter, but these electronic tentacles, in my mind, pale in comparison to the strength of the collective experience of an in-person weekly seminar or a personal visit during office hours.
My experience at SFU has strengthened my belief that the most critical factor in teaching and learning is the personal aspect. Technology may carry us forward into a brave new world where the nature of human interaction is fundamentally altered forever, and learning is transformed into something which I am not yet able to imagine, but for now it remains as it always has been.
The value of educational experiences rests predominantly, as it does for radio interviews, on human connections.