I am pretty convinced that the average 18-year-old produced in this culture cannot appreciate the value of the university experience. I therefore recommend, highly, waiting until the late twenties and early thirties to pursue higher education. Of course, I must dissect my own suggestion by examining my class, race, sex, and history. I suppose my family developed from the offspring of impoverished Irish and Ukrainian immigrants to become the urban gentry of the post-WWII era. The state of boredom is built into my worldview. Never mind that my high school chemistry teacher was a mumbling, ancient man who would jump onto the lab table screaming consistently unintelligible epithets about the structure of carbon molecules (two-four-six-eight; who do we appreciate? OCTET! OCTET!). Secondary education does not provide the sort of rapturous enlightenment that one reads about in the days of Aristotle. In fact, we are, most of us, more like Meno, the slave who so surprised Socrates' contemporaries by having a head for shapes. In other words, we are untapped, unappreciated, unappreciative dullards with a strong case of what Clive Hamilton calls "affluenza."
Add to this dire state the condition of femalehood, and the earth is salted for intellectualism. I can easily remember the tongue-lashings I received for being too forthcoming with my dissenting ideas, even in elementary school. For offering them, I was known as a student who "talked out of turn." Ummm, does that make anyone spew frogs at the mouth? Or, perhaps, ring any bells? I can see now how utterly I was oppressed (a dramatic term, but an accurate one) educationally. Believe me, on the rare occasion that the boys said anything other than "you know, it's like, the cream rises to the top" or some sports cliche, they were certainly not harassed in the same way that both myself and my best friend were.
As an "advanced age" student I am straddling the liberal arts fence by double majoring in History and English, two very essential and inextricable disciplines, in my view. The former is heavily male-dominated, and the latter female-dominated. Remember, your history teacher was most likely a coach, if you went to public school. Ironic, as I could have danced the intellectual mambo (a nod to heidi and benji) around those men, even at age 16. But now I find myself running with the big guys, certain that I can crack a new way of seeing out of every oft-assessed event, and failing. I mean, I make As, and my professors like me personally, but I want them to drool over every word of every paper. I want them calling me at home saying that I have to come in and meet this famous historian to whom they have showed my stunning work. I want offers of letters of recommendation. I don't get any of this stuff, mind you, but I keep anticipating it. It's become a kind of addictive game for me . . . cerebrorexis. I just bought my first Oxford English Dictionary!
"Moe: Ohhh a garage! La ti da!
Homer: Why? What do you call it?
Moe: A carhole!"
My point, the reason why I feel compelled to conjure up my foibles and their roots, is that going to school is such a wonderful way to keep the personself in mama. Every day I don't know what I'd do without it. And guess what—they give you lots more money when you have a kid! You better believe I'm goin' to grad school.
My friend, who is a social psych teacher at Concordia and goes to church with us, says that there is an "indigo generation" being conceived, born, and getting into their childhood right now; that a new crop of probably more evolved, though she hasn't expanded on why they might be special, humans are being born and that they will do great things in the world. Maybe someone else has heard of this indigo generation. I take care of my friends' children. Thanks largely to that business and to the AustinMama listserv, I get to hang out with twenty kids a week sometimes. I can tell you that each of the twenty could do great things in this world. And so could have I. And could still. All people at all times have such amazing potential. I say that it is the indigo parents who are the real changers, though, the real strong ones who have seen through so many of the lies that are told to us nowadays. I know the parents of those children, too. And we are all have all will all do great things, I can tell you.
posted by hobbledog @ 9:49 PM
2 Comments:
here's a link for "indigo children"
http://tinyurl.com/bde2f
and by the way, i'm pretty sure "carhole" is in the dictionary . . .
Sing it sistah! Thanks for reminding us all, mama or not, that we never stop growing or learning or contributing to the now. Keep 'em comin'
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