I ran across this quote in today’s Newscan newsletter, and I appreciated it:

“It takes at least a couple of decades to realize that you were well taught. All true education is a delayed-action bomb assembled in the classroom for explosion at a later date. An educational fuse of 50 years long is by no means unusual.” (Kenneth D. Gangel)

This works both ways. I think people are also often startled and diminished to realize what they didn’t learn, a delayed-action implosion of ones educational confidence.

Although it hasn’t quite been a couple of decades yet, I’ve had both experiences. Lately I’ve had the pleasant experience of the positive side of this while doing a Bible study with a friend who hasn’t had much exposure to actual Scripture. I was enjoying approaching the text in the role of a guide, which always allows one to see things in a new light, but was surprised to find out just how much I know about the flow of the Old and New Testaments, the historical periods involved, the politics, the symbolism, and even how certain passages have been viewed during different centuries of church history. Since I had only been reading the Bible for occasional purposes and isolated passages, it was easy to forget the larger picture of coherence, the macro-narrative in which each letter or sub-history takes place. During the last couple of months we’ve been doing a fairly close reading of Luke with detours to Jonah, Judges, Exodus, Psalms, Isaiah, Jude, and chapters from Romans. We’ve also begun reading through First Samuel, following the life of Samuel, Saul, and David. I feel suddenly very appreciative of my theological/textual education at this point and derive much pleasure and profit from it. Not that I don’t still have a lot to learn, but you know what I’m saying.

On the other side though, I feel the holes in my education. I know very little about chemistry besides what I’ve picked up from sci-fi novels, magazine articles, and science hobbyist websites. That may be a significant amount, but I approach those ideas as a complete outsider. I’m also pretty dim on classical music, pre-Reconstruction US history, and political science, having had no systematic input on those subjects in my schooling. While I don’t know much about math beyond algebra, I have yet to include that in my own understanding of being “well-taught.” I’ve known enough math to write simple programming algorithms and complete construction projects, which seems to have been just enough.

I recognize the empowerment that being confident of ones education lends: I experience it, but I also would like to point out how the quality of an education or the recognition of the lack of that quality can set the tone for ones social engagement with others.

No one can stand the guy that manages to make sure that any person he dialogues with knows that he went to an Ivy League school. That’s flagrant and odius, and it’s not really what I’m talking about. Most people don’t feel insignificant around him, they just think he’s a stuffed shirt.

I’m talking about the person who unwittingly raises the education bar by assuming that everyone would know what she’s talking about. Being in conversation with her makes you feel defensive and diminished, especially if other people do, in fact, seem to know what she’s talking about.

I’m talking about the proud isolation one feels when one realizes that one thinks about certain issues on a completely different, “more sophisticated” level than ones peers. Or smallness one feels when listening to a conversation one is completely unequipped to enter into.

Of course being gracious and humble is so key to avoiding classist divides. Most people have areas of knowledge that they are uniquely qualified to discourse about. Is the succession of Brazilian leaders a different type of knowledge than knowing how to properly lead a horse into a trailer-truck and secure it for travel? Subject, yes. But what actually elevates one over the other is the playing field that’s established. A person sensitive to classism can do things to make sure that the playing field is suitable and inviting to others by various means, such as:

– Ushering the listener into understanding with a few simple explanatory comments. While the danger is being didactic or reductive, the latter values relationship, the former knowledge. A good and common compromise is saying “Well, it’s more complicated than this, but you could pretty much describe it as follows…” Don’t get very in-depth unless the person you are talking to asks depth-seeking questions.

– Ferreting out and taking an interest in the specialized knowledge of others, seeking correlations and exceptions to general principles or expectations. This promotes a sense of identification and shared understanding.

– Identifying skills and facilities that can cross disciplines and subject areas and praising and encouraging those things, perhaps pointing out how those skills or interests could be applied in visionary ways. Even the simplest interests or hobbies lend fuel for useful extrapolation. This encourages and empowers.

My friend Murray is a walking example of someone who practices these ideas with sincerity and ease.