I've moved my blog to WP: idefiningi.wordpress.com
January 8, 2016
know (v.)
Spent an afternoon with Mike at the National Gallery attending a free piano concert, as part of the final days of the Goya exhibit. Before the concert, we walked through the rooms as he explained the context of many of the paintings, sharing personal and historical anecdotes, coloured with facts and names.
I am always in awe of people like Mike, who can retain so much information and draw it out at a moment's notice to fill in the gaps of story, which forgetful people like myself leave unfilled when philosophizing about the meanings behind cultural artefacts and the like.
Though I can navigate the systems of the modern world and its many (digital) repositories of knowledge, it had me reflecting on how much I actually know (or rather, don't...or rather, what it is to know at all in today's day and age).
Over coffee earlier in the day, we had spoken about education (Mike being a teacher), and the direction of pedagogy today as a result of technological advances.
Plainly put, we criticized more modern methods whereby the onus is more so on the teacher to teach than it is on the student to learn. (I recalled popular terms at my last job at the university such as "flexible learning", which may be a reflection of this philosophy.)
I agree, in part, with the thinking that discipline and work ethic are essential to learning, and that this is something that can't be taught - it must be willed and practiced by the student from her desire to learn. It made me wonder about the balance in education between cramming the brain full of information versus bringing forth wisdom from the student.
But what is to know? I have learned a lot in my life, from living and from studying hard. But much of what I've been taught in school I have not retained. I cannot list, with much degree of certainty, any number of historical details, which I assure you are required to piece together if one wishes to attain a certain level of sophistication in conversation about say, pretty much anything. This is likely because sophistication requires a knowledge of context, which can be a struggle to weave around an idea if you lack information or the ability to connect essential dots.
I notice this a lot when it comes to art - without knowing the evolution of society, the timeline of social changes, it’s hard to ascertain what it meant then and what it means now. What was once a “revolutionary” perspective or technique? Or reflective of that time, or critical, cynical, or metaphorical in relation to the reality of then? Without a point of reference, it’s hard to comment or form any kind of opinion. Increasingly so, my point of reference has been Wikipedia. (There isn’t a lot wrong with this; but it’s not way to have a conversation.)
Like the ballet earlier this week, this evening’s piano concert was my first. The music, as I closed my eyes in the grand hall with its high arches lined in gold with grandiose portraits of important people of the past watching over us (whose names I do not know without a google search), made me, again, think about education, learning, knowing. My ear was growing accustomed to this new sound: Goyescas, subtitled Los majos enamorados (The Gallants in Love), a piano suite written in 1911 by Spanish composer Enrique Granados. As I listened, all I could make reference to was jazz and typical sounds of "classical" music I had heard before. This was different, but I wasn’t sure how. The program mentioned rubato. I had to look it up. (Do you?)
However, it pulled something out of me. I felt I was learning something even if I couldn't find the words to talk about it intelligibly thereafter (hence, this blog post..I apologize!) But I was learning - to experience. And the Stoic in me is mostly satisfied with that.
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| Piano concert at the National Gallery |
Though I can navigate the systems of the modern world and its many (digital) repositories of knowledge, it had me reflecting on how much I actually know (or rather, don't...or rather, what it is to know at all in today's day and age).
Over coffee earlier in the day, we had spoken about education (Mike being a teacher), and the direction of pedagogy today as a result of technological advances.
educate (v.) late Middle English: from past participle of educare "bring up, rear, educate", which is a frequentative of or otherwise related to educere "bring out, lead forth," from ex- "out" + ducere "to lead".
Plainly put, we criticized more modern methods whereby the onus is more so on the teacher to teach than it is on the student to learn. (I recalled popular terms at my last job at the university such as "flexible learning", which may be a reflection of this philosophy.)
I agree, in part, with the thinking that discipline and work ethic are essential to learning, and that this is something that can't be taught - it must be willed and practiced by the student from her desire to learn. It made me wonder about the balance in education between cramming the brain full of information versus bringing forth wisdom from the student.
But what is to know? I have learned a lot in my life, from living and from studying hard. But much of what I've been taught in school I have not retained. I cannot list, with much degree of certainty, any number of historical details, which I assure you are required to piece together if one wishes to attain a certain level of sophistication in conversation about say, pretty much anything. This is likely because sophistication requires a knowledge of context, which can be a struggle to weave around an idea if you lack information or the ability to connect essential dots.
I notice this a lot when it comes to art - without knowing the evolution of society, the timeline of social changes, it’s hard to ascertain what it meant then and what it means now. What was once a “revolutionary” perspective or technique? Or reflective of that time, or critical, cynical, or metaphorical in relation to the reality of then? Without a point of reference, it’s hard to comment or form any kind of opinion. Increasingly so, my point of reference has been Wikipedia. (There isn’t a lot wrong with this; but it’s not way to have a conversation.)
Like the ballet earlier this week, this evening’s piano concert was my first. The music, as I closed my eyes in the grand hall with its high arches lined in gold with grandiose portraits of important people of the past watching over us (whose names I do not know without a google search), made me, again, think about education, learning, knowing. My ear was growing accustomed to this new sound: Goyescas, subtitled Los majos enamorados (The Gallants in Love), a piano suite written in 1911 by Spanish composer Enrique Granados. As I listened, all I could make reference to was jazz and typical sounds of "classical" music I had heard before. This was different, but I wasn’t sure how. The program mentioned rubato. I had to look it up. (Do you?)
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| Sometimes the only way somewhere is through a "passage" - even if you don't know its name. |
know (v.) Old English cnawan, "to know, perceive; acknowledge”
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