Knowing Things
by Julia Sneden
One
of the glorious things about being of this “certain age” is finally
realizing that we don’t have to know everything. It seems to me
that during my school years I spent so much time and energy covering
up all the things I didn’t know that it’s amazing I learned anything
at all.
Now, at nearly 63, I
am delighted to find out that I’m still able to learn. In fact in some
ways I find learning easier than it was when I was a kid. Oh, I’ll grant
you that my memory is no longer as facile as it was, but my methods of
learning are better, and the energy I once spent on hiding what I didn’t
know or understand is now available for pursuit of whatever interests me.
Wouldn’t it be great
if we could get to kids early-on and reassure them that they’re not supposed
to know everything yet, and that there is plenty of time to learn whatever
it is they want to know? As the younger sister of a very able brother,
I remember feeling at all times that I needed somehow to catch up, and
being sure that I never could.
Too many children learn to
master the go-along-giggle, or the vague nod, both of which are effective
skills for covering one’s ignorance, but aren’t much help in eradicating
it. Too many children are quick to say: “Oh, of course I know that!” or:
“…well DUH! Who doesn’t know that?” Maybe such bravado is a basic need
of the human spirit. Age and education and experience sometimes ameliorate
or even erase it, but too many of us are afraid to say: “I don’t know,”
or even “Gee, is that so?”
I am still impressed
when I meet someone truly brilliant who really understands calculus or
who speaks seven languages, but I no longer feel the need to beat up on
myself because of them.
After all, even though
I admire people of exceptional accomplishment, I conjecture that in order
to achieve what they’ve achieved, they’ve had to forego some of the things
I have done, and know a lot about. Face it: if someone hadn’t learned
how to run the washing machine or mind the baby or teach small children
or keep the checkbook or sauce the spaghetti, people like Einstein wouldn’t
have had time or energy to mess around with theories.
And if, along with the
necessary coping skills, you’ve actually managed to learn another language
or play a tune or knit or grow a garden or cook a splendid supper or tell
a joke well or run a mile or befriend a teenager or care for someone who
is sick or, in fact, do any one thing really well, you don’t have to cover
up or catch up with anyone. Let them catch up with you.