Education

When I went to school, the study material was laid out. There were math, history, biology, and English books. In its wisdom, the state said it knew what we needed to study and learn. If we were to pass the standardized tests, we all had to be standardized. So, I learned very early that there was only one answer to the questions in class and on the tests. We were not allowed to go outside the presented material. I once asked a teacher if I could come in after class and continue a science experiment. The teacher said he didn't have time for that. That was the end of that.

I have since learned that to "educate" means to draw out, to pull out of the individual what exists inside, within the soul. What is it that this individual has to offer to all of us? What do they bring to each of us? My education, however, was what I called bulimic education. For years I would suck in the information and puke it out on the tests to show the teachers how much I had taken in. If I puked up enough, I could pass the tests.

My grandparents used to know what plants helped cure some problems. If you have a bee sting or a cut that won't heal, put some plantain on it, and it will do wonders. If you have a cold or catch the flu, elderberries will cut down if they do not prevent the flu. This, too, was education. But we no longer need to think for ourselves. We have professionals who know what is best. Best practices, you know, are the cure for what ails us, even though we are individuals, but don't tell anyone it could disrupt the flow of things.

So, I have become standardized through the years, just like everyone else. This way, IBM, 3M, ATT, and others will know exactly what kind of work they will receive upon graduation from the education experience. They want someone who knows reading, writing, and arithmetic. They want someone who will take orders and fit into the cog appropriately. Creativity is stifled, new ideas are frowned upon, and free thinking is often seen as a threat. This isn't education. It is more brainwashing to ensure that nobody gets out of hand.

It is sad, isn't it, that the more educated we become, the more we look alike and doom ourselves due to a lack of creativity and possible new thoughts. And the darkness rolls on, one grade at a time.

Our Story

Each of us has a story, as each of us has a life. Some of these stories are lived out, while others are accepted or pushed upon us, telling us what our lives are supposed to look like. These stories, when told, have a unique way of capturing our attention. They make us wonder, 'Will I find myself in this story? Will they tell of a threat that was overcome, a mistake made that I might glean some wisdom from? Will I hear my name, my situation, my dilemma in this story?' It's this personal connection that makes storytelling so powerful and engaging.

That being said, we are often told which story to live. Listen to the nightly news, and they will start with “Our top story tonight comes from…” Yet we are never told why it is the top story. What makes it so interesting that we need to know about it? By picking and choosing, they reach into our lives and move them a little to the right or left. Politicians and other speakers do the same when they say, “Americans believe…” Every citizen knows...” True believers, Americans, those like us understand the truth….” In so doing, they are attempting to shape our story, experience, and knowledge. It is often as if someone doesn’t want me to live my story.

Each life is a story that waits to be lived and experienced uniquely. Our lives unfold like a rose, one pedal at a time, one experience at a time, creating a masterpiece designed only for that person. Stories should not be a “cookie cutter” reality of life so that we all look the same, all like the same things, and use the same deodorant. Instead, in telling our stories, we can see how unique we are and those who share their stories. If a story isn’t open-ended enough, it is not a story; instead, it becomes a mandate. Our inner stories begin like fairy tales. Once upon a time, there was a boy, a girl who…. and off we go. The story is open-ended, and we may confront monsters and helpers like dwarfs and Crones along the way. Our story is poetry, and we know someone is telling us their story when they use the poet’s vision to proclaim it. “I have a dream,” and we hear the story, “Four score and seven years ago,” and a few stories are referenced.

It is time to reclaim our story, the one seeking to be lived inside each of us. Then the world wouldn’t have time for all the nonsense of who is the most powerful, the richest, and the best looking. If we lived out our story, there wouldn’t be time to worry about those things or the made-up story that those in charge want us to live.