Learning to Learn
Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire;
he breaks out against all sound judgment. (Proverbs 18.1)
A fool takes no pleasure in understanding,
but only in expressing his opinion. (Proverbs 18.2)
The one who states his case first seems right,
until the other comes and examines him. (Proverbs 18.17)
After receiving my master’s degree, I took classes toward a second master’s degree. One of my professors was a young man, newly graduated with his doctorate. I came to dislike him almost immediately.
He asked provocative questions in class, but no matter how you responded, he would find a minute technical fault with your answer. It was as if he were trying to humiliate everyone in the class to show off his doctorate and how smart he was.
Every paper I wrote for him came back bleeding with red ink, criticizing finely nuanced logical errors and asking questions that challenged the legitimacy of my reasoning. This professor never seemed satisfied, never said “nice work”, always seemed to be looking for microscopic flaws in my work.
To make matters worse, I couldn’t escape him. He taught most of the courses in the specialty I was studying.
I couldn’t understand that this professor didn’t recognize my “brilliance”. Instead, he seemed to shrug it off as “average”, and then he’d challenge everything I said and wrote.
Isn’t that what learning is supposed to do?
That brings me to the three proverbs from Proverbs 18 at the head of this blog.
I felt anger against this professor because I felt I was sufficient. I didn’t want to hear his petty, finely nuanced logical arguments. He wasn’t petty. I was. He was a precise thinker, and he wanted me to be a much more precise thinker. That’s what education is about, isn’t it? I got angry because, in truth, I wanted applause, not input. That’s the lesson of Proverbs 18.1.
I wanted to wax eloquent in my papers and arguments and I wanted him to recognize my brilliance. He didn’t criticize what I knew; he just understood that at this level of study, it wasn’t extraordinary. It was expected. He wanted to push me into further understanding – and I wasn’t taking pleasure in it. I thought I was sufficient. Proverbs 18.2 says this is characteristic of a fool.
I thought my arguments made perfect sense as presented. I didn’t think they needed refining. But we all make sense to ourselves, and our “obviously convincing arguments” aren’t always so immediately convincing to others. Sometimes that’s unsettling, but it’s the way reality works. That’s Proverbs 18.17.
I detested that professor while he was teaching me. I found him petty. But in hindsight, once I dropped my foolish defenses, I realized that he was rigorous. I learned from this professor what real learning was.
he breaks out against all sound judgment. (Proverbs 18.1)
A fool takes no pleasure in understanding,
but only in expressing his opinion. (Proverbs 18.2)
The one who states his case first seems right,
until the other comes and examines him. (Proverbs 18.17)
After receiving my master’s degree, I took classes toward a second master’s degree. One of my professors was a young man, newly graduated with his doctorate. I came to dislike him almost immediately.
He asked provocative questions in class, but no matter how you responded, he would find a minute technical fault with your answer. It was as if he were trying to humiliate everyone in the class to show off his doctorate and how smart he was.
Every paper I wrote for him came back bleeding with red ink, criticizing finely nuanced logical errors and asking questions that challenged the legitimacy of my reasoning. This professor never seemed satisfied, never said “nice work”, always seemed to be looking for microscopic flaws in my work.
To make matters worse, I couldn’t escape him. He taught most of the courses in the specialty I was studying.
I couldn’t understand that this professor didn’t recognize my “brilliance”. Instead, he seemed to shrug it off as “average”, and then he’d challenge everything I said and wrote.
Isn’t that what learning is supposed to do?
That brings me to the three proverbs from Proverbs 18 at the head of this blog.
I felt anger against this professor because I felt I was sufficient. I didn’t want to hear his petty, finely nuanced logical arguments. He wasn’t petty. I was. He was a precise thinker, and he wanted me to be a much more precise thinker. That’s what education is about, isn’t it? I got angry because, in truth, I wanted applause, not input. That’s the lesson of Proverbs 18.1.
I wanted to wax eloquent in my papers and arguments and I wanted him to recognize my brilliance. He didn’t criticize what I knew; he just understood that at this level of study, it wasn’t extraordinary. It was expected. He wanted to push me into further understanding – and I wasn’t taking pleasure in it. I thought I was sufficient. Proverbs 18.2 says this is characteristic of a fool.
I thought my arguments made perfect sense as presented. I didn’t think they needed refining. But we all make sense to ourselves, and our “obviously convincing arguments” aren’t always so immediately convincing to others. Sometimes that’s unsettling, but it’s the way reality works. That’s Proverbs 18.17.
I detested that professor while he was teaching me. I found him petty. But in hindsight, once I dropped my foolish defenses, I realized that he was rigorous. I learned from this professor what real learning was.