I discovered a note today in my filing cabinet of a conversation I had with a student once.
“Do you know the difference between there, their, and they’re?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, what’s the difference?”
“They all have different meanings.”
Category: Learning and Growth
Daddy Versus the Volcano
“Dad, tell me what should I draw,” my six-year-old daughter says.
“Um, I don’t know. Draw Joe jumping into a volcano.”
“Who’s Joe?”
“He’s from a movie. Joe jumps into a volcano to save an island.”
My daughter puts pen to paper. She quickly finishes her artwork and laughs as she shows me her masterpiece:
Photo by M. Fleming
“That’s not Joe. That’s me jumping into the volcano!”
“Funny, eh dad?”
Yes, funny. But it makes me think at a deeper level. How would I face an impending death due to brain cloud? Would I discover meaning? Would I jump into a volcano? Would I learn how to live? Would I realize my Meg Ryan is right in front of me? And if I would, if I could, I should be able to now—in the present—without a brain cloud.
Century-old Wisdom on Happiness
Last month, in a post titled The Happy Life, I wrote about a couple ideas on happiness written in a book published in 1905.
Recently, I received an even older book on the subject. The Duty of Happiness by Sir John Lubbock was published in 1896.
Photo by M. Fleming
I read the book with interest and discovered three important nuggets of century-old wisdom.
First, there’s a link between happiness and nature.
Nature provides without stint the main requisites of human happiness.
Second—and my wife is also good at reminding me of this—we need to think about how grateful we are. Lubbock writes:
Think how much we have to be thankful for. Few of us appreciate the number of our everyday blessings.
And finally, we have the ultimate choice of how we live.
Few of us, indeed, realize the wonderful privilege of living; the blessings we inherit, the glories and beauties of the Universe, which is our own if we so choose; the extent to which we can make ourselves what we wish to be; or the power we possess of securing peace, of triumphing over pain and sorrow.
Thanks to Sir John Lubbock, when it comes to living fully, I will remember to consider the following: nature, gratitude, and choice.
My Love Affair With Carl
I was first introduced to the ideas of Carl Rogers, the founder of humanistic psychology, when I was in university back in the ’90s. I had a psychology professor who made fun of Rogers and his principles.
These days, if I were to run into that psychology professor, I would strongly disagree with his criticisms. But that psychology professor has probably kicked the bucket by now.
Anyway, after reading On Becoming a Person, I have come to discover that I love Carl Rogers. His philosophy on relationships and personal growth align with insights I have gained from my personal and professional experiences.
Photo by M. Fleming
In my personal relationships and in my work with students, I have found that individuals have enormous potential within themselves.
Rogers discovered the same:
Gradually my experience has forced me to conclude that the individual has within himself the capacity and the tendency, latent if not evident, to move forward toward maturity.
Let’s keep moving forward.
The Happy Life
This past Christmas, my wife gave me things I desperately needed: socks and self-help books.
One book that intrigued me was The Happy Life by Charles W. Eliot. It was published in 1905! My 5-year-old son said, “Dad, that book smells old.”
Photo by M. Fleming
I was curious to see if any of Eliot’s principles applied in 2019, more than a century after he wrote the book.
Incidentally, most, if not all, of Eliot’s insights still apply today.
Here’s one of my favourite passages:
In trying to enumerate the positive satisfactions which an average man may reasonably expect to enjoy in this world, I of course take no account of those too common objects of human pursuit,—wealth, power, and fame; first, because they do not as a rule contribute to happiness; and secondly, because they are unattainable by mankind in general.
And another:
The most satisfactory thing in all this earthly life is to be able to serve our fellow beings,—first those who are bound to us by love, then the wider circle of fellow-townsmen, fellow-countrymen, or fellow-men.
Wealth, power, and fame do not bring happiness. Loving others does. True in 1905 and still true today.
Studying at Harvard
I love learning, so I decided to take a Religious Literacy course this year.
Now I can finally say I studied at Harvard.
Anger Management Strategy from a 6-Year-Old
Like all parents, I was eating breakfast with my young children and quizzing them in the subject of mathematics.
There was one particularly difficult question that my 5-year-old son was struggling with. My 6-year-old jumped in and gave an answer. My son got angry. He stormed out of the room and started screaming and throwing things.
My daughter said, “Sam, you need to roll that anger into a ball and throw it out the window.”
I asked her where she learned that good strategy. She said her teacher.
I applaud those who have an awareness of their feelings and use calming techniques before they lose their cool. And I especially applaud the primary teachers who teach children these strategies.
Lego and Change
My 5-year-old son loves building with Lego, and for a 5-year-old, he’s pretty good at it. Sometimes, I’ll be staring at the instructions and he’ll already have the right piece in the right place. His mind sees how little pieces come together to make something whole.
My son recently had a birthday party, and of course, he got some new Lego.
“Dad, can you help me build this?”
“Let’s eat the birthday cake first.”
“Okay. Then can we build it?”
“Sure.”
We scatter all the pieces into an open container, open the instruction booklet, and start building. He’s very focused, but like most kids, his attention span is not very long. Sometimes, I look up and he’s no longer there. Other times, he’ll ask me to complete the creation.
The last time it was a dinosaur. Unlike my son, I don’t love building with Lego. Sometimes it’s painful locating a particular piece and figuring out where it goes. Anyway, after a little hard work I completed the dinosaur.
“Check it out, buddy.”
“Good job, Dad. Now let’s take it apart and build a different dinosaur!”
“But it took me so long to build this one! Let’s just keep it for a while.”
“No, Dad. Let’s take it apart and build something else.”
It’s then when I realize it’s not about the creation. It’s about the creating. It’s not about admiring the creation. It’s about taking it apart and creating something better. It’s not about constancy, but fluidity. It’s about building something with the pieces we are given and once it’s built, using the pieces again to build something even better. It’s about improvement. It’s about growth. And it’s about spending time with my son.
Losing Teeth and Change
My 6-year-old daughter was eating mint chip ice cream when she bit something hard.
My daughter had lost her first tooth.
It was an important milestone, but she was sad.
I asked, “Earlier you said that you didn’t want to lose your wiggly tooth because you were worried about how it might look.”
She said, “It’s not that, dad. I just don’t like change.”
Interesting, coming from a six-year-old. It reminded me of something my colleague said recently to students transitioning from high school to college, and I had my daughter repeat it.
With change comes opportunity.
Losing a tooth that you’ve had for most of your life is hard. It may hurt a little. It may bleed a little. You look into a mirror and things have changed. You may be sad. You may be scared. The gap is wide. The hole is deep. The wound is tender. But you’ve made way for something bigger, something better, something stronger. And when you realize it, you smile a little differently.
Reflecting on Insights from a Pure Mathematician
It is ironic that after years of studying graduate-level mathematics, it was a piece of literature I read during my studies that had the most profound influence on me. Mind you, it was written by a mathematician, but that doesn’t matter.
G. H. Hardy was arguably one of the greatest pure mathematicians of all time. He is portrayed by Jeremy Irons in The Man Who Knew Infinity, a movie that depicts his relationship with the mathematical genius Ramanujan from India.
Hardy’s A Mathematician’s Apology was published in 1940. His poetic and philosophical prose draws me in. In Apology, Hardy poses two questions that lead to the justification of his chosen profession:
A man who sets out to justify his existence and his activities has to distinguish two different questions. The first is whether the work which he does is worth doing; and the second is why he does it, whatever its value may be.
Hardy reflects on his life as a mathematician and concludes one, his work is valuable and two, he is good at it. Hey, if he had been a better cricket player, he may have chosen to be a professional cricketer.
And when others question my work, I reflect on Hardy’s morsels. I have no doubt of the answer to the first question, and I’m pretty sure I suck at baseball.
Teaching Michael Fleming 