Today, Wednesday, October 16, 2013, at 3:21 pm, I thought I
would call my mom to say hi, but then it occurred to me that mom died on
October 19, 1990.
Funny how a grown man of 60 can forget a thing like
that.
If the truth be told, I have been thinking about my age a
lot lately, mostly in a light-hearted way. So what if I am sixty? I feel like I
am 17 most of the time—when I am not running (really half-walking,
half-running) or climbing the two flights of stairs to get to my
classroom or office or dorm for dorm duty.
I am thinking about my age because I was in a meeting the
other day talking about whether students at my boarding
school should be granted wireless access to the Internet. I am of the mind that
they should have it. The rest of the educated world has it if it wants it, and
there might be something that everyone, teachers and students, can learn from
having access to the Internet, while teaching (or trying to) what responsible
use means.
Then a colleague, several years my junior, made a casual comment
about the need to get feedback from younger faculty members. Her idea was, if I
understood it rightly, that this feedback might be more beneficial to the discussion about granting young people access to the Internet because it comes from young teachers who have been to
college recently and, thus, are more “current” with what the trending needs are for
today's college students.
OK. Score a point for the trendy young college grads.
But what about the decades and scores of decades of
decisions that were once based on advice from community elders? Is the wisdom of elders
even needed anymore? Does it have any value?
The question in my mind that day was: Are the experiences of older generations useful or valid
in today's boarding school community?
Moreover, I wondered: Are younger teachers expected to activate
their sensitivities when listening to the advice and contributions of older
teachers, or is what is new and trendy the only thing that is important in today’s school culture?
I do not have the answers to these questions, but I do know
that I was there, and it felt awkward to listen to a bright, young, future
star of the boarding school administrative team pass over the offerings and
thoughts of an older teacher in favor of what is new and trendy and current.
I
felt what King David must have felt when he sat back and contemplated his son
Absalom’s dreams and aspirations for the new kingdom of Judah. Absalom would
intercept anyone who attempted to seek his father’s counsel, and say something like, “You deserve to win your case. It’s too bad the king doesn’t
have anyone to hear complaints like yours. I
wish someone would make me the judge around here! I would be fair to everyone.”
And David sat back. I believe he
sulked. He really wanted Absalom to rise to the position of king and take over the reins of judge and wise counselor, but to do it with
patience and wisdom. Alas, poor Absalom was impatient, insensitive, and selfish.
Might we learn a lesson from his story?
I loved my mother. I wanted to call her today to say, "Mom. How are you? I love you." I wanted to listen to her wisdom, and I felt a pang in
my heart when I realized that I could not call her to check in.
