The Burden of Learnin'!

Library books are heavy. I know this because I have been recently lugging several of them back and forth between school and our house. I'm right in the middle of several essays and while last semester I seemed to be able to get away with using online journals, cd-roms and e-journals, I am now finding myself cruising the stacks for some hidden but heavy gems of insight. By sheer weight and volume alone I could listen to a good argument for reading more online. But maybe, in order to flex my mind muscle, I need to pump a few paperbacks as well. Regardless, all of this heavy toteing has got me doing some heavy thinking about - the burden of learnin'!

Within a fit of writer's block and while walking among the many weighty and mostly dusty tomes filling the uni's libraries, I was thinking about the thousands upon thousands, millions probably, of writers and academics who have passed this way before. Where did these people find the time to research, write, edit and publish the incredible volume of work littering the shelves? How is it possible to know what you need to know to write something like the Complete History of the Great War and have a life at the same time? Is all of this writing, that looks so impressive, actually any good? I am currently labouring under the weight of my own expectations with respect to writing a few short essays and the "stress" of getting it right and achieving a decent grade at the same time is palpable. If this was my life's work or I was trying to meet my editor's deadline, I'm not sure this hack could hack it.

The other day in my web education class we were talking about the idea that "no thought goes unblogged" and I am certainly living proof of that. So while the academic prose does not flow quite as readily, technology has allowed this amateur writer to step up to the keyboard and instantly capture my apparently unique take on life. It's now, maybe more than ever, a publish or perish lifestyle we lead and my need to blog has become a cheap, cathartic form of therapy - without the couch. But is it good writing or good thought and does it matter? Should my sounding off into the ether bear the burden of proof in terms of actually being able to turn a phrase? And how will I learn to be better when technology makes it so easy to be an expert?

In my diverse learners course we were reading a journal written by an impressive sounding group of academics; future professors, Phds, authors and experts - and I found it to be drivel. It told me things I already knew with data which was largely unimpressive and inconclusive. Published in the Journal of Thinking, Winking and Nod, it came across as being important, but in the end was forgettable. And it reminded me that even for my own high school students, I need to break down the "packaging" that wraps so much of "good writing" in a pristine and irreproachable outer shell. Otherwise they will learn whatever the programmers, publishers, or teachers are selling. The ability to learn through critical analysis and discovery does not come without the burden of learning not just what to lift but how and why.

And speaking of why - last night I was helping Colin with his homework. This is a nightly dance that is often a struggle for both of us. I think he should embrace it and he thinks he should avoid it. For him, it gets in the way of everything and anything he would rather be doing. When I point out small errors, he gets upset. When he makes simple mistakes, I get upset. And as I continue to press him to do a job "he can be proud of", I am constantly trying to remember if I did even half the homework he does at his age...I'm sure I didn't. It makes me wonder if we haven't already got our kids on the treadmill toward Harvard before even knowing who they are or what they might be happier doing. For our kids, school remains fun, but homework has become a learnin' burden.

On still another note and another kid, Alex suffered under his own little burden of learnin' the other day. You see, for whatever reason that seemed logical in the mind of a six year old at the time, Alex decided to cut his hair -with scissors and at school. This might not have been so bad except that he hacked a sizeable chunk out of his bangs and took it right "down to the wood". It looked kind of like someone forgot to replace their hair divot on his forehead. Anyway he was a bit upset and embarrassed about the whole thing and though we were mildly sympathetic, there is of course nothing a parent can do. Nor should we. A great article I just read about children and technology says this - "At the heart of a child's relationship with technology is a paradox—that the more external power children have at their disposal, the more difficult it will be for them to
develop the inner capacities to use that power wisely." I see Allie's haircutting incident as part of the same burden we all take on in learning life's lessons around using the power that we have wisely. Unlike a video game, our actions "in the real world" do have outcomes that we or others might not like. And in life and haircuts, there are very few "Undo" buttons.

And finally there's me and this whole Master's abroad thing. I believe that I have thrown myself into it quite nicely. And I guess I better have. We've spent a ton of money to get here. But as I read and read and read some more, I do wonder what I am expected to do with all of this knowledge. Is it okay to keep it stored away in my brain? Should I use it to better myself, my career, the world? If I don't actually produce anything with it apart from a few essays, what have I really gained? Is higher education there to enhance one's ability to work and think or is it just a way of learning more about the things other people have already thought about - but on a deeper level? What is the point of cramming one's brain or library shelves with "learning"? Do we collect this stuff as a way of validating our intellectual prowess by adding a few more letters after our name?

From my backpack to the library shelves and the from the e-journals to the essays, I continue to wonder aloud and online about why so many of us continue in our attempts to climb higher? Cramming our bags and our brains with more knowledge, do we do it simply because it is there? Or have we been programmed from a young age, sitting around the dining room table after dinner while our ne'er-do-well friends played on into the twilight, that homework and learnin' were the hallmarks of a necessary success? I really don't know - but if the hours spent at the library or dining room table don't result in the desired outcome - is that still okay? Is learning allowed to be just that or must there always be a finished product - like another degree, a lousy essay or even a bad haircut - attached?