4. Now, we must think critically

This week, I was troubled by an image that continues to plague me. It shows a young woman doing a nonsensical task and it touches on the question of why she could not see it for what it was? Not far from our house is a dealership that sells expensive and exotic cars. The structure is new, having only been completed last year. It has the latest technological creations: glass walls that extend into the stratosphere, an overly-large revolving sign, a dynamically-moving electrified screen that showcases the latest vehicles and, most importantly, modern landscaping. The grounds are the most interesting because, though somewhat limited, they include an in-ground sprinkler system. The water system is remarkable due to the fact that it only worked for a day before it was crushed by a salesman moving a car. Water and its attendant substance, mud, do not mix on the tire wells1 of pricey vehicles -- necessity thus forced a repair. This was done, not by digging up the damaged water pipe but by tiling and concreting the offending area. We all know that water is ubiquitous and soon the puddles had returned. The work had been completed, however, and the job was left just like that, in an inferior state. This necessitates the continual cleaning of the surface area to dissuade the encroaching boue2 from smudging the tires and clothing of the “well-heeled” clientele. Now for the image: The other day, I passed by the abovementioned building on my way to work. There was a young woman feverishly sweeping leaves on the moist escarpment. As she was cleaning, her broom touched the plashes spreading a thin layer of dirt everywhere. A fool could see what was going on. Why didn’t she stop? The answer: she had been told to clean the outside of the structure. She had simply not questioned that the fundamental premise was flawed. The water continued to leak making it impossible to actually cleanse the area. 

How many times in life have we done similar things? We adopt certain postulates that are totally false and yet do a task again and again and again only to achieve the same results. The quote falsely attributed to Albert Einstein3 states, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” As educators, we see the same thing with school systems. We tell our students that if you work hard you will eventually finish and get a “good job.” No you won’t: who told you such nonsense? The system of capitalism, of course, is the answer. Herein lies the problem. A “straw poll”4 of any large convenience store or fast-food chain will quickly show you that this is where the many “educated” end up -- not a pretty sight as you get your morning coffee at 6:00 -- and, by adolescence, most already know this. Their only escape is the intellectual blandness of the phone. 

We have our work “cut out for us” to make education “fun.” This can be and is being done in certain administrations. “‘Whatever it takes’ is an attitude that drives … most of Finland’s 62,000 educators in 3,500 schools from Lapland to Turku—professionals selected from the top 10 percent of the nation’s graduates to earn a required master’s degree in education. Many schools are small enough so that teachers know every student. If one method fails, teachers consult with colleagues to try something else. They seem to relish the challenges. Nearly 30 percent of Finland’s children receive some kind of special help during their first nine years of school. ‘Children from wealthy families with lots of education can be taught by stupid teachers;’ … ‘we try to catch the weak students. It’s deep in our thinking.’” 5

I took note of this: “We try to catch the weak students.” This must be part of the solution. If we make education inclusive, the outsiders will feel included in the success of the system, any system for that matter. The great teacher, mystic and philosopher, Krishnamurti,6 has a thought: “There is no end to education. It is not that you read a book, pass an examination, and finish with education. The whole of life, from the moment you are born to the moment you die, is a process learning.”

I read this analogy the other day. I thought it was very clever: Imagine that you are invited to a banquet. You arrive and the table is truly magnificent. It is overladen with the best of food. You even spy your chosen delicacy, the one that you can never find and never get enough of when you do. Your mouth salivates with expectancy, but wait; there are no bowls or plates. If you want to indulge in the food, even a little, you must use your hands. Now, I have used my hands to eat during my trips in India and, at least for me, it is not a comfortable proposition. I would pick at a few morsels, but I would not enjoy the food: what a disappointment! Cutlery is a lot like our critical thinking skills and the food much like the “table of knowledge”: if you can use our utensils with dexterity and elan, we will enjoy a delicious meal of wisdom.