Several years ago, I called my high school geometry teacher, John Detrick, and invited him to lunch. The lunch spawned the
Summer Classic. But first…
So there we were, eating lunch, and John asked me why I’d invited him.
As a teacher, John often asked, “Why?” He was a thinking student’s teacher. Teenagers can easily fall into the ruts of high school routine, believing that people are little more than their official roles: teachers are nothing more than teachers; students, students; custodians, custodians. John blurred the lines, encouraging us to see people as more complex individuals, by asking, “Why?”
So John asked, “Why did you invite me to lunch?”
I confessed, “Because you were one of my favorite teachers.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you,” John said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t teach you something more important.”
“What?” I sputtered, making the old mistake, seeing the geometry teacher as the geometry teacher, and one who seemed to need me to defend his subject. So defend I did: “Geometry is a very important subject. I love geometry. I think about it all the time, like when I enjoy sculpture or drive past a bridge. And I am an amateur carpenter. I use geometry in the building of bookshelves.” (I’m a Jewish carpenter – just not
that one. One day, I saw the bumper sticker and figured, hey, it’s the
least I can do.)
John stopped me. “Geometry is useful. But it’s not in the top ten.”
“What’s in the top ten?” I asked.
The Most Important Subjects
“Oh, I don’t know,” said John. Then he started listing the possibilities:
1. “How to be a good neighbor. That’s clearly what the world most needs these days. Not just over the fence, but across global borders. We very much need to know how to be good geopolitical neighbors. That has to be taught. In many ways, it’s not any more complicated than learning how to be a good neighbor. And it’s a lot more important than geometry.”
2. “How to be a good spouse.”
3. “How to be a good parent.”
4. “How to be a good friend.”
5. “How to vote. Our freedoms are based on our ability to vote.”
6. “How to read.”
7. “How to calculate. Some math is necessary, so you can pay for your cheeseburger. But geometry isn’t necessary for that.”
8. “How to cut the grass. Taking care of your stuff.”
9. “How to fry an egg. Nutrition in general.”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “When in your career did you realize this?”
“In my tenth year of teaching,” he said.
“And when did you teach me?” I asked.
“In my twelfth.” John Detrick was one of my best teachers and it was two years after he’d given up on his subject.
His lesson at lunch changed my life.
Ever since that conversation, I’ve asked myself, “Am I teaching the most important subjects?
In
my teaching at Ohio State, that question is easy to apply: “Am I teaching the most important subjects?” I’ve refocused my teaching energies on subjects that will help students do more than expand their livelihoods. I’m teaching them how to engage in their lives, towards Maslow’s self-actualization.
That lunch even led us to ask, “Why?” –
for free, in public.
But teaching isn’t limited to the campus.
Teaching Is Everywhere
In our practice of advertising at
Young Isaac, the question sounds like: “Are we helping clients sell important things?” We’ve evolved our practice to focus on important purchase decisions, such as healthcare, financial services and education.
In our home life, the question sounds like; “Am I teaching our kids
the most important subject that only I can teach them?”
And the question happily haunts me, not only as a teacher, but as a student. Am I studying the most important subjects? What are they? Is John’s list complete and correct?
Am I surrounding myself with teachers?
Are you studying the most important subjects? Who are your teachers?
Several years ago, I called my high school geometry teacher, John Detrick, and invited him to lunch. The lunch spawned the Summer Classic. But first…
So there we were, eating lunch, and John asked me why I’d invited him.
As a teacher, John often asked, “Why?” He was a thinking student’s teacher. Teenagers can easily fall into the ruts of high school routine, believing that people are little more than their official roles: teachers are nothing more than teachers; students, students; custodians, custodians. John blurred the lines, encouraging us to see people as more complex individuals, by asking, “Why?”
So John asked, “Why did you invite me to lunch?”
I confessed, “Because you were one of my favorite teachers.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you,” John said. “I’m sorry I didn’t teach you something more important.”
“What?” I sputtered, making the old mistake, seeing the geometry teacher as the geometry teacher, and one who seemed to need me to defend his subject. So defend I did: “Geometry is a very important subject. I love geometry. I think about it all the time, like when I enjoy sculpture or drive past a bridge. And I am an amateur carpenter. I use geometry in the building of bookshelves.” (I’m a Jewish carpenter – just not that one. One day, I saw the bumper sticker and figured, hey, it’s the least I can do.)
John stopped me. “Geometry is useful. But it’s not in the top ten.”
“What’s in the top ten?” I asked.
The Most Important Subjects
“Oh, I don’t know,” said John. Then he started listing the possibilities: