Category: Commentary

I spent many years teaching mathematics to students who ranged in age from twelve to seventeen years old. Some of them viewed compulsory education as a dreadful impingement on their individual rights as Americans. The would complain as though they were imprisoned in school and boast that as soon as they were of age they intended to drop out of the system. Many, but not all of them, were from low income minority families. Often none of their relatives had ever graduated from high school, but still managed to survive and care for their families. These student saw schooling as a punishment rather than one of our rights and privileges.

I had a stock question and and answer lecture that I used to inspire them to take full advantage of the opportunities that their free education gave them. I reminded them that historically only the wealthiest and most powerful people learned to read and write and work with numbers. The general population was left to its ignorance sometimes intentionally lest they become more aware of the indignities being forced on them. I spoke of slavery in the Untied States and the fact that most of the time those treated like property were not allowed to read or write. I told them how in modern times the Khmer Rouge had murdered teachers and professors and destroyed the educational system in Cambodia. I pointed out how the Taliban would not allow young girls to go to school with their brothers. 

Usually at this point in the discussion the students were demanding to know how tyrants could be so unfair. They wondered why schools were often targets of suppression. I allowed them to provide the reasons why they thought that such practices were used and they always came to the conclusion that keeping certain groups ignorant also kept them from being free. They began to get angry at the thought that anyone would attempt to lie to them by not allowing them to be able to learn certain truths. That’s when I warned them to beware of anyone who would begin to censor books or movies or television programs or what they would be allowed to learn. I urged them to revel in the freedoms that they enjoyed and to view school as one of the greatest gifts they might ever receive. I told them to never let anyone take their rights to an education away from them. 

Because most of the students who railed against forced education were rather rebellious and angry many of them began to understand that education was indeed a sacred right that they should appreciate and safeguard. They often became more attentive in class and began to talk about the part that schooling would play in their futures. Of course I never reached a hundred percent of them, but it felt good to change the minds of those who had seen going to school as a curse.

During the war in Afghanistan I heard from one of the students who had participated in my little seminar. He sent me a message telling me that he had just returned from fighting there. He had been stunned by the authoritarian policies of the Taliban, especially with regard to who would be allowed to attend school and what they would be allowed to learn He remembered my warning about authoritarians who would deny education to any part of the populous. He told me that he was going to use his GI bill to go to college. 

One of my teaching colleagues was the daughter of Cambodian refugees who found their way to Las Vegas during the reign of terror that the Khmer Rouge had inflicted on the citizens. Her parents were Hmong, a minority group that was targeted by the rulers of the Cambodian government during the Vietnam War era. The movie The Killing Fields was based on the horror that was happening there. My friend told me stories about what took place in Cambodia that were horrifying. Years late she and her husband went back to Cambodia armed with advanced degrees and incredible dedication to the idea of building a strong educational system in the homeland of their ancestors. They were literally starting from the ground up. 

The educational system of the United States may be admittedly imperfect, but it has lifted the population out of ignorance dramatically over the decades. My paternal grandmother was born in the nineteenth century and was unable to either read or write. My paternal grandfather had little more than a fifth grade education. Their son graduated from high school and then earned a bachelor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering from Texas A&M University. My brothers and I all have Master’s degrees. Our children all went to college and some of them are medical doctors and have PhDs. Now my grandchildren have earned degrees in engineering or are in the process of earning degrees at some to the most rigorous universities in the country. All but myself attended public elementary, intermediate and high schools. The record for public schools is deemed wonderful by my family.

I am concerned that there are people dabbling needlessly with our public schools and the curricula that they offer, They appear to be are intent on inserting political or even religious beliefs than providing our students with the critical thinking skills that they will need for the future. While their efforts are not on the level of dictatorships, many of them are intent on banning the free discussions of differing ideas or censoring what our young may learn. Every parent should have the right to opt their children out of engaging with specific topics or books, but their views should not impinge on all students. The solution is not to ban controversial ideas from even being mentioned but to be sensitive to the idea of allowing parents to opt out of certain lessons or books for their students. 

As a parent I recall being informed that a sex education unit would be part of my daughters’ health lessons. I was given the right to remove them from the presentations of that information. The school gave me an outline of the topics covered and the materials being used. I had to sign my approval or request that my girls be removed from such discussions. I was happy that a knowledgeable person would be instructing them and the unit proved to be quite good for them. Nonetheless I appreciated that the school respected my decision one way or another. What it did not do is deny the lessons to everyone because a few did not want their children engaged in such discussions.

We are needlessly dismayed and frightened by what our young are learning in our public schools. As with any huge system whether it be churches or government agencies, there will always be a few bad apples here and there that we must ferret out. The reality is that mostly schools are places where dedicated people work harder than anybody ever realizes to help produce the future adults of our society. Neither do we need to be too concerned that historical truths will devastate our young. Quite the opposite is generally true. Young people demand honesty from us and respect our systems more when we are unafraid to tell the truth. Remember to beware of those who would tear down our educational systems. They are rarely invested in our freedoms. 

Teachers often demonstrate to students how to think about their thinking. It’s an interesting process known as metacognition that involves strategies for literally analyzing the ways that we individually process learning and decision making. It is meant to improve the ways that we interact with the world by removing the tendencies to operate with instant emotional reactions to the situations that I encounter.

Thinking about our own thinking is quite challenging because sometimes those thoughts that enter our heads like little whispers in our ears can overwhelm us. I know that there have been many times in my life when my inner voices were so loud and argumentative that I had to distract myself to keep from feeling anxious. Since I keep quite busy, I sometimes get the messages from my mind in the form of dreams that are not always so understandable. The process of metacognition challenges us to question even our own prejudices and beliefs in search of truths. 

Philosophers, writers, and teachers have been using different aspects of thinking about thinking for centuries. Socrates had a method that offered questions rather than answers, forcing his followers to consider that there are often many possibilities rather than a single correct answer. The key to finding solutions to problems lies in a willingness to consider differing points of view. 

As a mathematics teacher I knew that in many cases there was clearly on one right answer to a numerical problem, but I also understood that there were multiple ways of arriving at that answer. I taught my students certain algorithms and formulas but almost always encountered students who had arrived at a solution in unique but logical ways. I had one student named Robert who might have appeared to be lazy and unwilling to follow instructions to some because his mathematical mind was almost magical. Without putting a pencil to paper he imagined the numbers and computed them with vivid images that only he could see. He was brilliant and remarkable but often misunderstood by others who did not take the time to understand the processes of his thinking.

Right now my head is filled with thoughts that rattle constantly in my head. I wonder how I might convince my ninety four year old father-in-law to surrender his car keys and end his days of driving around town. I believe that his hands are too shaky, his mind is too prone to forgetfulness, and his reactions are too slow for him to be anything but a hazard to himself and others when he is behind the wheel of a car. He insists that he is perfectly capable of being a safer driver than most. I constantly debate myself about this situation in the confines of my own mind. I attempt to consider all of the possibilities, but I mostly realize that the biggest roadblock to any kind of mutual solution with my father-in-law has to include finding a way to convince him to think about his own thinking just as I am doing. Perhaps if we had a Socrates in our midst each of us might be guided to a reasonable agreement about what to do next. 

Most of the worst historical tragedies might have been averted if more people had learned how to think about their own thinking and that of others. We humans have tendencies to develop our own sets of beliefs and then attempt to force them on others. We descend into name calling and refusals to even consider another person’s point of view. We align ourselves in camps that sometimes end in small wars in our personal relationships or geopolitical battles that bring destruction and death to vast swaths of the world. 

In most cases such schisms occur because we have allowed those little voices in our heads to rule us without any analysis of what they seem to be telling us to do. Our old habits die hard and unless we are willing to be very honest with ourselves we push them forward without consideration that maybe we have been wrong in particular assumptions all along. We follow a pattern of instantly reacting, voicing our opinions and moving on without first questioning  or challenging ourselves. Particularly in the political arena we tend to label anyone who evolves in their thinking as a whimpy flip-flopper rather than viewing them as individuals who has taken the time to analyze and critique their own ways of thinking. Such persons tend to be shunned by both those with whom they once aligned and those whose views they are now ready to consider. Therein lies a terrible human tendency to force people to remain constant in their thinking even if changing situations require new considerations. 

It can take a great deal of time to engage in metacognition. The process can even be painful. It is not meant to brainwash or force change. It is only intended as a way of viewing all ideas critically with an eye on determining both the logic and the flaws of our beliefs. It generally demonstrates that there are rarely single answers to any question. It allows us to open our minds to new ways of thinking about any situation. 

We are in a critical moment of history as we slowly emerge from a devastating pandemic. Political forces are rattling sabers all over the world. Depression in both young and old appears to be at an all time high. Anxiety over so many issues is pushing us farther and farther apart. In the name of peace we would do well to adopt a willingness to think about how our own thinking may be contributing to the problems. How wonderful would it be if our leaders were able to sit together and attempt to begin to understand each other’s needs rather than making their differences a spectacle. 

Evolving in our thinking may be difficult and even a bit painful but it almost always results in better solutions. It’s not about giving in to pressure, it is about a willingness to find the flaws in our beliefs and repair them. Thinking should not be about blindly supporting gangs or tribes or political groups. Cults rarely accomplish anything. Real thinking almost always leads us to understand that there is greatness to be found in our differences.   

There are few people who have not heard about the sinking of the Titanic, a grand ship built in Belfast and meant to be almost impregnable. The tragic story of the ship’s encounter with an iceberg as it crossed the Atlantic is told in books and movies. It’s a cautionary tale of human error and hubris that is heartbreaking. I have been both fascinated and appalled by what happened on that disastrous voyage since I was a young child. In some ways it might be said that I have been haunted by the many “what ifs” that lead to the destruction of the grand ship and the loss of so many lives. 

What I did not know is that the Titanic was only one of three huge steamers built in the Belfast shipyards along with the Olympic and the Britannic. After the unbelievable tragedy of the Titanic, the construction of the Britannic was reconfigured to take into account flaws that lead to the Titanic’s misfortune. Watertight doors were included in the new design to operate as a second defense in the event of a breach in the hull of the ship. Extra lifeboats were placed on the ship as well. The Britannic was thought to be one of the safest ships in the world after all its new features had been added. 

As the newest ship of the White Star Line it sailed across the Atlantic until the outbreak of World War I when it was commandeered to be a hospital ship. Staffed with doctors and nurses, it traveled from Great Britain into the Aegean Sea on regular missions to bring wounded soldiers back to England. In November of 1916, the ship was on its way to a location in Greece when tragedy struck.

It was early morning on the day before the ship would be crowded with patients. The crew and the medical personnel were enjoying breakfast and relaxing a bit before what they knew would be a frenzy of activity caring for the needs of the soldiers that they would soon meet. Some of the employees had also worked on the Titanic on the fateful night when it sank. They were grateful to be alive and dedicated to their work. It seemed impossible to even think that a similar fate might befall the strong ship that carried them into supposedly safe waters. Not until everyone heard a loud explosion and felt a horrific jolt did a quiet panic begin to spread through the occupants of the ship. 

Below deck in the bowels of the ship water began to rush in, nearly drowning many of the crew members. The doors that should have shut mysteriously stayed open and before long the entire ship was listing. The captain had been called from his cabin just before taking an early morning bath, so he stood at his post in his pajamas. He decided that the best bet for the safety of the ship and its passengers would be to run aground. He instructed his crew to head for land which was not far away in the hopes of saving every person as well as the ocean liner itself. 

We now know that the Britannic had hit a German mine creating a huge gash in the hull of the ship. It is believed that the doors did not properly shut because the ship had been twisted out of shape from the explosion. The water was free to fill the ship quickly. Additionally doctors had opened portholes in the hospital area to allow the sea breezes to ventilate the rooms. This allowed more water to enter the already endangered Britannic. The ship was only minutes away from sinking.

Many of the crew members who worked below were so frightened by the rushing waters that they climbed into a lifeboat meant for eighty four people and lowered it into the water before getting the proper command from the captain. This lapse of protocol ultimately resulted in an horrific death for many of them. As the ship shifted forward from the weight of the water, the propellers came out of the water and sucked the lifeboat into its vortex. The poor souls were cut to ribbons by the spinning of the huge metal blades. 

Within less than an hour everyone realized that the Britannic was going down. The captain ordered the lifeboats to be lowered and he told the officers of his crew to leave the ship. He himself waited until the deck of the Britannic was level with the water when he walked into the sea as the ship fell from under his feet. He would swim for thirty minutes until being rescued by Greek fishermen in the area who came out to save as many of the passengers as they could. 

Only thirty people died that day but the rest of the over one thousand humans on board would forever be devastated by what they had witnessed. The sinking of the Britannic became lost in the tragic headlines of World War I as Great Britain and the souls who had endured unimaginable terror simply went back to work in the war efforts of the day. It would later be learned that many of them had also worked on the Titanic and had somehow escaped the fate of death once again. 

The terrible irony of the sinking of the Britannic was that even with all of the precautions that had so carefully been included in her construction, the foibles of humanity took it down. That mine lurked as surely as the iceberg that tore the Titanic apart, only it was invisible and far more evil. A ship and its passengers on a mission of mercy became victims of a war that ushered in decades of tragedy for the world. The story of the Britannic is in some ways even more touching than that of the Titanic because it was an horrific example of man’s inhumanity to man.  

For a time during my career in education I was a Dean of Faculty. I approached my position more as a coach and facilitator for the teachers than an authority figure. I suppose that I viewed the members of the faculty as extraordinary souls who did far more than simply meet the requirements of a job. I realized their dedication and intense desire to reach their students. I witnessed their hard work along with their frustrations. I saw their tears and their triumphs. 

Just as with the many students I had once taught, the teachers were unique individuals with differing needs. Some demanded tight rules and regulations for themselves and their students. They wanted a clear outline of how things should be, a map for managing and inspiring their students. Others were loose and more apt to fly by the seat of their pants when it came to their teaching styles. Balancing the many personalities and needs of my charges was quite often like walking on a high wire between skyscrapers. 

As a cub teacher I had been trained to complete lesson plans and present them to my principal each Monday morning. I had to follow a fairly easy rubric that allowed me to include an outline of what I hoped to accomplish without exact details. I found this process to be quite strategic in keeping my progression through the required topics for my subject area on track for completion by the end of the school year. It helped me to prepare materials and have a feel for where I was going and where I had been. It was loose enough to allow me to be flexible. All in all it worked for me.

When I asked my teachers to follow the lesson planning design that had served me so well I soon found that what had been life saving for me, was a pain for some. At the extremes were the teachers who literally turned in entire scripts for each day’s lesson and those who simply noted the topics they planned to cover without any further explanations. When I observed these widely varying educators I found that whether tight or loose in their methodologies, they tended to be excellent teachers. So I quietly allowed each of them to do their own things as long as I had evidence that they knew what they were doing. Therein came the rub.

Teachers’ lounges are chatty places and it did not take long for discussions of lesson planning to ensue. Along the way a kind of chasm developed between the “playwrights” and the “impromptu advocates.” Those heavily dedicated to rules and regulations wanted me to require those who only presented outlines to conform to a more rigorous description of their lessons. Of course such suggestions were directed at having a fairer system in which everyone was doing the same amount of work. 

I’ve found the division between those who want to go heavy on requirements versus those who want to be left to their own resources is true in most situations. I saw it in my students, some of whom wanted numbered step by step rubrics for everything, including how to behave ,versus those who quickly understood the ideas and wanted to be free to run with the information. I learned early on that we humans lie along a continuum of needs and desires. Some want a more authoritarian system for living and others balk at too many restrictions. 

I know for certain that it is never a good idea to assume that one size fits all. Each of us is unique. Some need that script to feel comfortable while others must be free to fly. I suppose that is why governments often take the road down the middle rather than being too conservative or too liberal. When working with such varied kinds of people finding the right ways of meeting each need can be daunting. 

I see the same thing happening all over the world. Some people want a tighter way of living. They want rules, rules and more rules. Others prefer a freer atmosphere that allows people to be themselves. Right now the culture wars are looming across the globe and the desire for stricter guidelines is raging in place after place. 

Psychologists have learned that we humans are mostly like Goldilocks. We need rules, but not too many. Our laws work best when they are just right, when they allow those who are tight to live peacefully with those who are loose. Of course we can’t get along without any kind of requirements, but we have to be careful that they are not so restrictive that they become a burden rather than a help. 

As the Dean of Faculty I knew my teachers well. The lesson planning that I asked them to do kept both me and them informed. I did not need tiny descriptions but I appreciated the dedication of those who felt the need to so carefully create the details of each lesson. I understood that we each do things differently and that is not a bad thing. It’s simply a human thing. The truth is that that I found mostly good things with each style and a few bad tendencies as well. Perhaps if we operated a bit more in our society to accommodate those along the continuum of tightness to looseness we might actually begin to get along better. Instead we seem to have the outliers at each end demanding that everyone be like them. We all know that such an idea is ludicrous. Be tight or loose if you will, but make rules that allow each the freedom to live and let live.

My mother was a beautiful soul. In normal circumstances she was happy, wise and generous, a kind of fairy sprite who traveled through life doing her best to help others. It seemed unfair that she also suffered from mental illness that she only minimally controlled with medication and therapy. When everything was working properly to steady her brain she showed flashes of her true self, but when the medications stopped working as they were designed to do, she fell into cycle after cycle of depression followed by mania and a psychosis that induced strange paranoia. 

Because her life was a roller coaster only her most staunch supporters were willing to continue to minister to her needs. It was difficult to be around her when she was very sick, which generally happened a few times each year for a span of over forty years. The woman who once had so many friends that they were too numerous to count found herself mostly alone save for her children, grandchildren and siblings. A few good neighbors watched over her from afar and reported her strange behaviors whenever they witnessed them.

Sadly Mama could not understand why her friends had abandoned her. In the darkest times of her illness she reasoned that her acquaintances had mostly left her because they were afraid of the imagined forces that were out to get her. Even in her most confused state of mind she still found the goodness to understand and forgive them. 

That is not to say that people did not try to maintain a relationship with my mother, but they generally did not understand how to just love her even when she frightened them. Most of the time their well intentioned responses to her cycles of depression, mania and paranoia were built upon platitudes that may work for those who are well, but not for anyone with a clearly defined diagnosis of mental illness. Telling her to just get a hold of herself and her fears was a useless idea because something in her brain was broken and not even her normally strong will and determination were able to overcome the feelings that had spun out of her control. 

My mother was one of the most spiritual people that I have ever known. In spite of the tragedies of her life she remained optimistic and close to God. Nonetheless, during her cycles of bipolar disorder suggestions that she just pray and depend on God fell on deaf ears. Her mind was far too rattled and out of control to tame it with her daily Bible readings or the prayers that were part and parcel of her routines. She mostly just needed someone to sit with her and listen to her meanderings without comment. 

Calming my mother with palpable love was difficult to do when she was most in need of medical care. Even the kindest gestures sometimes backfired and made her even more anxious. It was not easy seeing and hearing her confused reality, but some people clearly understood how to just be a loving friend. Her sisters called her every single day to let her know that they were thinking of her. Most of the time the conversations were delightful but brief. It did not take a great deal of time to show her know that somebody cared about her. When she was very sick she often hung up on her siblings in anger, but they always faithfully called once again the following day. She knew that she could count on them and their love. 

Mama had a neighbor named Helen who was a kind of confidante. Helen would stop by my mother’s house just to see how she was doing. She rarely went inside. Her purpose was to let my mom know that someone was thinking of her. Helen was like an angel who brought calm to even Mama’s most difficult days. She did not do so with advice, but rather just by being there. 

Thankfully few people endure full blown paranoia, psychosis or the cyclical pains of bipolar disorder. On the other hand anxiety and depression are far more common. Some of us have blue days in reaction to the weather or a physical illness or some tragedy in our lives, but we soon enough heal and move forward. Others are continually daunted by sadness that descends on them with great regularity. They may be anxious most of the time. There are treatments for such things that may or may not work, but having understanding relationships are just as important. Every one of us needs a Helen in our lives, someone who sees and hears us without trying to fix us unless we ask her to do so. 

When people are hurting and in a state of sorrow the best thing we might do is just allow them to speak of their pain without judgement or attempts to dissuade them from their thinking. The only time we need to intercede is when they are threatening self harm or indicating that they want to hurt others. Most of the time they simply need to get their poisonous feelings out in the the open and know that people will still love them. They need to believe that they have some value and that there are individuals who care about them. In fact, this is what all of us require. It is part of our humanity to want to be seen and heard and still loved. 

Helen always knew when my mother was in trouble. She would call me to be certain that I realized that Mama was in the middle of a psychotic episode. I in turn would take my mother to her doctor for the professional help that she required. Helen seemed to clearly understand that my mother needed her and Mama loved her just for being there. We might all learn how to be like Helen. When someone is crying out our best response might simply be to listen and love.