Learning Curve
I think learning curve should be learning circle instead. It takes a lifetime to learn. As soon as we think we know enough, we come across situations that make us realize how much we still don’t know or understand. Some of us acknowledge our ignorance and learn some more. Many of us don’t.
Let me talk about curves. For my sister Gigi’s college graduation present, I took her with us to this trip to the Mountain Province in the Philippines, in a town named Sagada(http://www.geocities.com/sagada_igorot/sagada/). It was what I called a “cave downing” (as opposed to mountain climbing) experience. We explored the Sumaging Cave, with its slippery mud and dangerous rocks, amazing stalactite and stalagmite formations and awesome natural pools, guided by a 12-year boy with a lantern. The adventure was wonderful despite the semi-treacherous trek, and yes, all of us got out alive.
We got back to the guest house still early enough to rest and even get a massage from a blind masseuse. Refreshed and showered, we looked okay even after four hours of climbing up and down the dark cave. Susan, our co-worker who was from the area asked if maybe we would like to see the lake since it was only three curves (liko) away. So we all said fine. We could do that. We walked the unpaved street again. The view was breath taking anyway, as from the dirt road where we were walking on, we could see the rice terraces.
About 15 curves after, there was still no lake. We finally asked Susan, where it was. She said we’ve only done one curve. Her definition of a curve is a full rotation of the mountain where we were (and it was a pretty huge mountain and we have already walked for about 2 miles), while the city girls’ idea of a curve is a simple curve. As soon as we realized what she was talking about, we hailed the one passing vehicle we’ve seen all day and hitched a ride back to the guest house.
The funny thing is, Susan was right. Nothing spectacular should come that easy. Some things are worth more than just a curve. Things that are of value are worth a full circle, or two or three. Most important of all is learning.
As adults, we have the tendency to be overprotective of those we love, especially our children. In an act that what we construe as love, we prevent them from making mistakes we made, remembering only the pain those mistakes brought us, forgetting the lessons they taught us. We sometimes even try to live their lives for them, make decisions for them, and thereby not allow them to make their own mistakes, experience their own pains, lick their own wounds, learn their own lessons, and yes, live their own lives. We think we know more than they do and that earned us the right to impose our own set of values on them.
We forget that there was a time when we were at the other end of the spectrum. Times change but many of us got off the bus when we thought we knew enough. We stopped learning about new things because we have reached our learning curve and we know better now. The truth however is that many of what we learned no longer apply to the realities of today. But we are not ready to accept that. In the meantime, our children are caught between their love for us and their disdain for our inability to connect with them and to understand them.
Too many of us do not come to full circle. Like the group of us who after a few curves gave up on the lake, many of us are not willing to go the all the way to understand our children and our youth. We stick with what we think we know and expect our youngsters just follow our “wisdom.” We got old, and act old, and feel old. We stayed in the curve, our learning curve.
A sage lady once told me that every generation questioned the ways of the generation before them. Indeed, there is wisdom in the statement. For how could progress take place when questions are not asked? How could learning take place when mistakes do not happen? How could one appreciate happiness when devoid of experiencing pain? How can one truly learn without coming full circle?
Someday, I would really like to get there.
10/2/06
Postscript: I know there is another side to this argument, and I, too, am torn, because some kids don't seem to learn even from their own mistakes. I know it hurt us more than it does them, and we feel helpless when we are unable to save them from themselves. It's a challenge to love and let go, and we, too, learn as we go.
Let me talk about curves. For my sister Gigi’s college graduation present, I took her with us to this trip to the Mountain Province in the Philippines, in a town named Sagada(http://www.geocities.com/sagada_igorot/sagada/). It was what I called a “cave downing” (as opposed to mountain climbing) experience. We explored the Sumaging Cave, with its slippery mud and dangerous rocks, amazing stalactite and stalagmite formations and awesome natural pools, guided by a 12-year boy with a lantern. The adventure was wonderful despite the semi-treacherous trek, and yes, all of us got out alive.
We got back to the guest house still early enough to rest and even get a massage from a blind masseuse. Refreshed and showered, we looked okay even after four hours of climbing up and down the dark cave. Susan, our co-worker who was from the area asked if maybe we would like to see the lake since it was only three curves (liko) away. So we all said fine. We could do that. We walked the unpaved street again. The view was breath taking anyway, as from the dirt road where we were walking on, we could see the rice terraces.
About 15 curves after, there was still no lake. We finally asked Susan, where it was. She said we’ve only done one curve. Her definition of a curve is a full rotation of the mountain where we were (and it was a pretty huge mountain and we have already walked for about 2 miles), while the city girls’ idea of a curve is a simple curve. As soon as we realized what she was talking about, we hailed the one passing vehicle we’ve seen all day and hitched a ride back to the guest house.
The funny thing is, Susan was right. Nothing spectacular should come that easy. Some things are worth more than just a curve. Things that are of value are worth a full circle, or two or three. Most important of all is learning.
As adults, we have the tendency to be overprotective of those we love, especially our children. In an act that what we construe as love, we prevent them from making mistakes we made, remembering only the pain those mistakes brought us, forgetting the lessons they taught us. We sometimes even try to live their lives for them, make decisions for them, and thereby not allow them to make their own mistakes, experience their own pains, lick their own wounds, learn their own lessons, and yes, live their own lives. We think we know more than they do and that earned us the right to impose our own set of values on them.
We forget that there was a time when we were at the other end of the spectrum. Times change but many of us got off the bus when we thought we knew enough. We stopped learning about new things because we have reached our learning curve and we know better now. The truth however is that many of what we learned no longer apply to the realities of today. But we are not ready to accept that. In the meantime, our children are caught between their love for us and their disdain for our inability to connect with them and to understand them.
Too many of us do not come to full circle. Like the group of us who after a few curves gave up on the lake, many of us are not willing to go the all the way to understand our children and our youth. We stick with what we think we know and expect our youngsters just follow our “wisdom.” We got old, and act old, and feel old. We stayed in the curve, our learning curve.
A sage lady once told me that every generation questioned the ways of the generation before them. Indeed, there is wisdom in the statement. For how could progress take place when questions are not asked? How could learning take place when mistakes do not happen? How could one appreciate happiness when devoid of experiencing pain? How can one truly learn without coming full circle?
Someday, I would really like to get there.
10/2/06
Postscript: I know there is another side to this argument, and I, too, am torn, because some kids don't seem to learn even from their own mistakes. I know it hurt us more than it does them, and we feel helpless when we are unable to save them from themselves. It's a challenge to love and let go, and we, too, learn as we go.
posted by PHLOR TORREJOS at 10:13 PM
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