On Bashful Bears and Timid Warrior Whalemen

Two very recent and relatively minor things have occurred in the last few days that have once again got me thinking (and blogging) about the luxury of time. One, took place as I was listening to Alex talk about some of the things he wants to do "when he gets home" - meaning back to Canada. The other occured in my "Creating a Learning Organisation" class just last Wednesday night.

First off, Alex. He does not quite have his months, seasons, hours, etc. all figured out. Hours can seem like minutes. Days can seem like months. Sometimes when you say he has two minutes before he needs to stop playing a game he is relieved and says "Okay. That's still a lot of time." Just the other day he said, "Next February, when we go back to Toronto..." He meant June but said February becuase that is also a month that seems to be a long way off. I am still waiting for him to realize that 12 months is actually a really long time - at least in kid and maybe dog years. And yet, what I remarked at the time is, he doesn't know about time until now and hopefully doesn't care, because he does not need to know. The only time I have really watched him care about with any great degree is bed time and usually that's because he has to stop playing. Recently, I have enjoyed an impending bed time because it meant I could stop working! Hmmm.

The other "time" incident may not be quite as clear or connected, but it smacks with some of the same perspective. There are 13 adult students in one of my classes and they are a broad mix of ages, gender, experience, and careers. Presumably they have made sacrifices, plans, etc. to get themselves into the masters program and they are going to be required to do a bit of work in order to get the piece of paper they came for. And yet, from this student's perspective, my classmates are the quietest, most reserved bunch of teachers, I have ever met! Here are motivated, bright, hard working people who completely lack any sort of fire or desire to be in the class or to tackle the issues we are presented with! Now I know they do not all have the luxury of my situation, and had I stayed in Toronto, and completed my Masters at night part time, I may have also been slightly stunned at the end of a tiring day. That is why I am again feeling fortunate to have made the decision to do this full time at a pace with which I can really get into the material. However, despite their decision to re-enter the halls of acdemia and to further their education and careers, for the majority of these people, the class appears to be a burden rather than experience or an education.

I am reading Moby Dick right now and I am loving it for all its grand language and Melville's endless and at times overdone hyperbole. He creates a huge world where eating a bowl of chowder or simply going to bed can become a life-altering moment. In the early part of the book, Ishmael wonders at a room full of hearty sailors thinking that he should be deafened and entertained by the sound of these rough men exchanging their stories and yet, the room is oddly silent. Ishmael then says"A curious sight; these bashful bears, these timid warrior whalemen!"

And its with that lovely, poetic phrase that I will try to make my point. My son, Alex, lives in the moment. Seizes the day, as all kids do, safe in the innocence that a lack of knowledge about time, among other things, provides. As a result, he is more bear than bashful. On other hand, my class of adult masters students, seeming slaves to time and all of its needs, are wasting their opportunity to live, to learn, like any good six year-old. These people are experts, wise in the ways of time and rich with this new opportunity and yet they sit as "timid warrior whalemen".

What is it that turns us quiet with age and responsibilty, with a sudden need for decorum or an overpaid duty to respect? As I watch Alex actively learn his world and my fellow classmates quietly study theirs, I am certain that in this case the younger is the wiser.