The Educated Mind

I have been contemplating the idea of an "educated" individual and what definition one would use to define someone as such. Is it a certain amount of schooling? Is it a certain number of life experiences? Does it involve passing basic college algebra the first time? I have spent a significant amount of time in the field of "educating"…first as an elementary schoolteacher, then as a graduate student of educational leadership and administration, and most recently as a storyteller at 2 public libraries. But this week a seemingly small moment with my 3 year old son proved what I have always really suspected…I really don’t get much at all.

My sister has a bathroom with an impossible light switch. It seems all backwards to me. I don’t have any problem turning on the right light switches in my own bathrooms but the minute I step foot into her downstairs powder room, I’m flipping on the fan instead of the light switch, cursing, trying to turn that one off while fumbling for the light switch, and then spending the next few moments sitting there trying to calm down and understand whether this ongoing saga is my problem or my sister’s problem. Yesterday I escorted my son into the bathroom where he reached up very calmly and flipped the right switch on the first time. I have to admit being a little stunned by his confidence in this matter but figured it was a matter of coincidence. A couple hours later I escorted the same son back to the same bathroom and stood aside to see what would happen. Once again, he entered the bathroom, stood on his tiptoes and calmly flipped the right switch on the first time. He didn’t struggle for a moment. There was no cursing, no near accident, and no extra time sitting in the bathroom trying to understand the complexities of life. Matter of fact, after the third bathroom trip he announced the room was a little "stinky" and reached up to turn on the fan.

I have 2 college degrees, a resume filled with work experience, and a number life experiences under my belt and I can’t figure out the light switches in my sister’s downstairs bathroom. Jake has 2 months of preschool, 3 years of life experience, and no resume and he has mastered this small piece of life without a moment’s thought. So tell me…who is really educated? I suspect it ain’t me.

Here I Am.

Here I am...a little hesitant about this whole experience but willing to fling some portion of myself out there and see what raw thing comes back at me. When my sister mentioned "blogspot" today, I thought she was talking about a disease somebody had. Was a blogspot a mole? A freckle? A secret diseased spot that oozed but was never talked about? It sounds like I am trying to be philosophical and really I'm just being very literal. My 2 year old has random pustules on his leg right now that the doctor says are benign little viral things but I have to admit they are a strange source of living wonder to me...hence, the blogspot being a skin related condition...I'm rambling.

Today my boys and I had a hot dog and tater tots from Sonic for lunch. I ate my tater tots and developed such a startling "on the spot" addiction for more that I was a little stunned. My 3 year old willing shared some of his and then I have to admit driving around just a little bit extra because I knew it would put my 2 year old to sleep so I could have his (he and I come very directly from the same gene pool that says you don't share something that is salted and deep fried). I still didn't feel quite satisfied but I had run out of options and exceeded my monthly caloric and fat intake. I've had them on my mind all day. Did I mention I'm 37 weeks pregnant? Which I'm certain brings up the issue with more than one well-meaning blog reader as to what a sane person is doing with a 3 year old, 2 year old, and newborn!? What can I say? I'm addicted to procreating. It's a hobby. And sanity doesn't run in my family.

How do you know when to stop yourself on these things? I could go on forever except that 2 out of the 4 family members in this house are in hysterics, one is definitely carrying around something fatal in his diaper, and the ideal bedtime passed us by at least 45 minutes ago.

So let the raw flinging into the void begin...