Finally Talking About Education

I’ve wanted to discuss my views on education since the very beginning of this blog, but have been unable to corral my thoughts long enough to complete a point. The only thing worth saving from those previous drafts is when I said that the education system has layers. I’ll discuss the my views a bit, but first, I have a philosophical quandary.

When talking with my mother today, I realized my problem with discussing education was a conflict of philosophical interests: the battle between idealism and realism. A search is an easy way to find previous entrants into the discussion, but I’ll include this one because it’s the closest to what I’m going to try to discuss.

Okay, one more. The OP asks the question of whether there is a difference between a “realistic idealist” and an “idealistic realist”. I would argue that there is no good to be had from being a realistic idealist. How can someone function in life when each one of their dreams of a perfect reality gets brought back to earth when they consider the real world implications of that idea? It’s like the Hindenburg. I’d say that the only effective permutation is the idealistic realist, a person that is firmly anchored to the ground, but looks to the sky and wonders what could be. Kinda like flying a kite. In my current state of conflict, I’ve been acting as the Hindenburg. But I’m trying, Ringo. I’m trying real hard to be the kite.

One of my favorite movies is Jiro Dreams of Sushi (2011). Jiro Ono is an ideal idealistic realist. Here are two quotes from him. First:

“The masters said that the history of sushi is so long that nothing new could be invented. They may have mastered their craft, but there’s always room for improvement. I created sushi dishes that never existed back then. I would make sushi in my dreams. I would jump out of bed at night with ideas.”

And Second:

“All I want to do is make better sushi. I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit. There is always a yearning to achieve more. I’ll continue to climb, trying to the top, but no one knows where the top is.”

Both of these quotes illustrate a man that is firmly grounded in his work, yet keeps striving to achieve an ideal. The most common descriptor of Jiro in the documentary is a perfectionist. This is an adequate description given the statements made by Jiro himself.

Jiro believes in secrets and I believe that the world has secrets yet to be found. I was convinced of this by the book Zero to One (2014) by Peter Thiel. I had a link to this book in a previous article, but I’ll discuss the ideas more in depth now. Thiel posits that there are two types of innovation, vertical and horizontal. When some new technology is made from nothing, that is vertical innovation and the spectrum goes from zero to one. But when an existing technology is studied, revised, and optimized, that is horizontal innovation, extending from one to n.

Throughout the book, Thiel gives many examples from history and his personal experience on why vertical innovation must occur in a modern society that has become complacent and satisfied with horizontal innovation. He argues that we can never realize the future if tomorrow looks exactly like today. Thiel believes that companies go from zero to one because they have found a secret, and also a way to exploit it to their benefit.

Given all of that, let’s talk about education. I truly want to be idealistic about the public school system, whether k-12, or universities, but realism comes crashing down on me every time. Inertia (and governmental bureaucracy/checks and balances) stands in the way of one man changing everything. Sir Ken Robinson has been advocating for arts in schools for a long time now, amongst other pedagogical needs. You should watch that video and save me a lot of words typed here.

Here’s my small addition to the education puzzle. In this industrial structure, students aren’t measured and graded based on what they as individuals can do well and contribute to society, they are graded on how well they can follow directions. And when students get to college, their major largely dictates whether or not they continue in this way.

Think of all of the majors that fill the economic imperative: math, the table sciences, engineering, business, education (if I’m being optimistic). All of these majors still fulfill the promise of a good paying job after graduation, but the four years (if you grind hard) you spend earning that degree is still nothing but following directions.

A quick qualifier. I am well versed in the nature of all of the majors I listed in the previous paragraph. I am far less acquainted with the majors I am going to mention.

For those majors that do not fill the economic imperative: the social sciences and the arts, a good paying job is not promised upon graduation. The consolation of this is that these students actually have the opportunity to think original thoughts and create something new (whether or not they do is another discussion).

I get why engineers need to learn a structured set of rules in order to graduate (how they learn this is yet another discussion). A building will not stay standing unless it complies with the laws of physics and has a safety factor greater than or equal to what is appropriate to the region. But why, in a largely subjective major like philosophy, are students required to remember a bunch of superfluous concepts that they are likely to forget soon after graduation? My mother proposed that the point of college is to prove to potential employers that you can commit to something for four years.

But when students are not guaranteed a good-paying job, why are they held to the same four year commitment? Wouldn’t it make sense to give these students a basic grounding in the fundamentals of a subject for say two years, then allow them the opportunity to make money for themselves in the real world rather than spending money on tuition and empty credits?

One place where there is real money to be made with only a high school education is in sales. And I’m not talking about a telemarketer. Some people have the ability to talk face to face with a person and sell them a product with the buyer feeling good about the purchase. Peter Thiel discusses this in Zero to One. He argues that society undervalues this skill solely because it doesn’t require a degree to utilize.

Putting a bow on everything, Thiel states that there are two kinds of secrets: secrets of nature, and secrets about people. The intellectual and economic imperative-fulfilling scientists can work on the secrets of nature, but the secrets about people are far more accessible. But a word of caution, the biggest reason why the education system is broken is because it assumes that all students learn the same way. Making the same assumption when looking for secrets about people would lead to similar shortcomings.

But I digress…

An (Un)Finished Digression

I started this post two weeks ago, but lost my momentum after I made two points. The rest may not be what I had in mind at the moment, but C’est la vie.

I was watching the commentary for the first season of Rick and Morty last night, excited to hear what these masterminds had to say about their show. As a general principle, I will only buy a DVD if it has production commentary (the notable exception to this has been the first three seasons of Spongebob, that show is amazing). I am amazed by Rick and Morty; it’s funny, exceedingly intelligent, and just the right amount of crass. But listening to the commentary, I couldn’t help but feel that I wouldn’t get along with the people doing the commentary. The lesson from that story is that with a creative product, there is a degree of separation between those that create the labor of love and those that consume this thing.

So, before we go any further, let me say this (is not my original thought): in order for any relationship to work, there needs to be something you see in another person that you need and vice versa. As an introvert, my most organic relationships have usually come with other introverted, independent people (because I can empathize). With others, I have had to practice my sales pitch as someone that has something to offer.

Throughout my life, I have maintained a tight group of friends from just one when I was in elementary school to an inflated three in college. Each person fills what I like to call a slot, an emotional and activity-oriented void in my needs. [1] With having such a small group of people, it economically makes each of those people significantly more valuable than someone who has, say 10 friends.

So when one person leaves their slot for one reason or another, the value of that empty slot becomes currency I could spend on making new connections. The question arises at that point, why don’t I just mitigate my risk by expanding the number of slots? Because, my requisite requirement to get a slot is an emotional connection.

Here’s an interesting idea that I got from  This Book is Full of Spiders by David Wong (Quick review: It’s the second book in the sequence and both are an entertaining time-filler). Not spoiling the plot with making this point, as Wong goes meta in his own right, he mentions the idea of Dunbar’s Number. The idea being that based on the size of a primate’s neo cortex, one can predict the size of that primate’s tribe. Based on this idea, the human’s neo cortex dictates a clique of 150 people.

The implications of Dunbar’s Number in this modern technological society, where interconnectedness has required less effort than ever before, are worth visiting. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, while the median slides down to 200. If you follow that link, or this one, my point has already been made months ago.

So let’s move on from that. I suppose that is why I forget people’s names immediately after hearing them, self-preservation and such. In this world full of secrets, David Wong convinced me that evolution (I prefer descent with modification) still holds a few secrets about people.

But I digress…

1. Such an only child.