I agree whole heartedly with Sir Ken Robinson's notion that knowledge is not about what you know but about you don't and your willingness to find out. This is a notion that's common in Eastern thought. The Tao te Ching's 48th verse says "In the pursuit of knowledge, every day something is learned. In pursuit of the Tao, every day something is dropped." Robinson's statement also reminded me of the first tenet of the Zen Peacemakers: Not-knowing. The Zen Peacemakers were formed by Bernie Glassman, a Jewish clown and Zen master who held meditation retreats at the sites of former Nazi death camps and wrote a book with Jeff Bridges called The Dude and the Zen Master about how The Big Lebowski is essentially a long comedic film version of a Zen parable. Here's what he had to say about Not-knowing:
"As soon as we know something, we prevent something else from happening. When we live in a state of knowing, rather than unknowing, we're living in a fixed state of being where we can't experience the endless unfolding of life, one thing after another. Things happen anyway — nothing ever remains the same — but our notions of what should happen block us from seeing what actually does happen. We get upset because our expectations aren't met. When we can let go of them we are in accord with things as they arise.
We like to use the phrase 'let it be.' The truth is, we have no choice. No matter what we think, we are never in control and things will happen as they happen. But in a state of unknowing we actually live without attachment to preconceived ideas. There is no expectation of gain, no expectation of loss. There's just what's here right now."
In other words, once you nail something down and define it, you close your accounts with reality and become that much less receptive to input from the outside world, that much more dedicated to the symbolic map in your head. It's difficult to be comfortable with not knowing, but it's the way to remain truly in touch with your experience with other people and life in general.
I don't know about teachers who learn along with the class necessarily, but I have had teachers who are willing to learn, modify their approaches and tolerate alternative points of view. Just last semester I had an English teacher at UIS who emailed me to say she felt she was having to defend the entire enterprise of literary criticism from my weekly attacks on the discussion board. What resulted was a long and engaging conversation where we both articulated our overall points of view, came to an understanding, and I'd venture to say became friends. I didn't stop pushing back against assumptions I think need to be questioned, and I don't know that she changed her point of view too much, but the ability to lay aside preconceived notions and have a discussion was intensely refreshing in our current socio-political environment.
I hadn't had academic teachers of any kind for a very long time until this year, so it's hard for me to generalize about how they need to change. I did have a teacher last semester who was the opposite of the one mentioned above: aloof, nonresponsive, when I'd raise concerns about lack of clarity in the feedback on my papers or test questions, I'd get a brush-off answer that didn't explain anything or take what I'd said into account, like he was trying to get it over with as quickly as possible without actually addressing what was being said. Based on that experience alone, I'd say teachers need to pay their students enough respect to willingly listen to their concerns, engage in dialogue and dialectic to reach greater understanding, question their own assumptions and accept (even encourage) it when their students do the same. I'm not saying they should be pushovers, just that they should be responsive, open and present.
P.S.--It might work better for you if you give me word limits rather than minimums.
My gracious, I love all your words! No maximums for you ever. If you've never blogged before, I encourage you to seriously consider it outside the scope of our course.
ReplyDeleteSir Ken is a favorite of mine. We'll watch more of his talks this week, in fact. In this talk, I was particularly intrigued by his story about the Dalai Lama. Who'd have thought "I don't know" could be so powerful, right?!? Normally, when we hear people say that, we think they are lazy or unwilling to even try to answer. But here is the Dalai Lama - who certainly can't be considered lazy or unmotivated - using that same phrase. The difference? He tried. He thought it through and determined that he didn't have the answer. There's nothing lazy about that. Humbling perhaps, but not lazy. That's the effort I want to encourage from students. To think things through, and when the answer isn't there, to seek it out.
Thank you. I've considered starting a blog for a long time, but have never found the time for it. Of course, I didn't realize how easy it was until this class, so thank you. Maybe once I'm no longer spending all my extra time on school I'll start one. Only if I can pull it off anonymously though. I tend to go after cultural sacred cows, so I'm sure my words will get me into exactly the kind of online trouble that a professional teacher can't afford. We'll see.
DeleteBut speaking of sacred cows, another story from the East came up for me when reading your reply. It's about the Bodhidharma, a legendary figure from India who allegedly brought Buddhism to China and thus started Zen. If I remember correctly, it goes like this:
Some Emperor called Bodhidharma to to the great hall to tell him about all the holy works he'd done as ruler. "I built this temple and that temple, gave X amount of money to monks and blah blah blah. What merit have I achieved?"
The Bodhidharma replied, "None whatsoever."
The Emperor said, "I don't understand. If there's no merit in all these works, what is the point of The Teaching?"
To which Bodhidharma replied, "Nothing is sacred. Everything is emptiness."
The Emperor, becoming offended, replied, "If nothing is sacred who are *you* to stand here before *me*?" Basically asking: why am I bothering to ask you anything then?
The Bodhidharma replied, "I don't know." Then he left.
It's one of my favorite stories from the Zen canon. It's more like a weird joke than a religious parable, yet it's the origin story of Zen. Anyway, I'm not really a Zen master. I just play one on BlogSpot.