Random Curiosity
Remember when we were little?
We were pondering over every little thing on earth.
The world seemed mysterious.
And we wanted to make sense out of it.
We were bubbling with curiosity and asked random questions
that we could think of;
"Why is the moon round?
Why do stars twinkle?
Why do we dream?
Why are plants green?"
Sure, we'd ask some naive questions too;
But that didn't stop us from being inquisitive.
Sometimes, when we don't get a straight honest answer to our questions, we assure ourselves that it is not the end.
We think, when we go to higher classes, we'd get our answers.
We think, when we grow old, it would all make sense.
But, did it make sense?
No. What's worse, the system has got to us.
Amidst an ocean of smart people, who are constantly striving to get ahead of us, even a minute wasted to curiosity seems like a blunder.
Teachers no more welcome questions.
They've struck a deal with the syllabus.
"To talk without understanding,
To teach without grasping.
To ridicule questions without listening."
has been their motto.
And we no more ask questions, for they are better left unanswered than wrong-answered.
We are learning in a minds-off environment.
Honestly, how many of us 'like' learning what we are taught?
We care more about grades and marks, but is that all?!
I personally feel, grades don't measure understanding.
So, lets ask ourselves a honest question:
Where is our education headed?
And a few other questions:
Do we know how to learn?
Does being curious pay off?
Of what use is, seeking answers to our questions?
Is questioning authority disrespectful?
This is a paragraph I read in "The Demon Haunted World" by
Carl Sagan. Being a genius astronomer and a science enthusiast,
he answers these questions in a vivid and inspiring manner.
Read through.
"In a world in transition, students and teachers both need to teach themselves one essential skill —learning how to learn.
Except for children (who don't know enough not to ask the important questions), few of us spend much time wondering why Nature is the way it is; where the Cosmos came from,
or whether it was always here;
if time will one day flow backward, and effects precede causes;
or whether there are ultimate limits to what humans can know. There are even children, and I have met some of them, who want to know what a black hole looks like; what is the smallest piece of matter; why we remember the past and not the future; and why there is a Universe.
Every now and then, I'm lucky enough to teach a kindergarten or
first-grade class. Many of these children are natural-born scientists,
although heavy on the wonder side and light on skepticism.
They're curious, intellectually vigorous. Provocative and insightful questions bubble out of them. They exhibit enormous enthusiasm. I'm asked follow-up questions. They've never heard of the notion of a "dumb question."
But when I talk to high school seniors, I find something different.
They memorize "facts." By and large, though, the joy of discovery,
the life behind those facts, has gone out of them. They've lost much of the wonder, and gained very little skepticism. They're worried about asking "dumb" questions; they're willing to accept inadequate answers;they don't pose follow-up questions; the room is awash with sidelong glances to judge, second-by-second, the approval of their peers. They come to class with their questions written out on pieces of paper, which they surreptitiously examine, waiting their turn and oblivious of whatever discussion their peers are at this moment engaged in.
Something has happened between first and twelfth grade, and it's
not just puberty. I'd guess that it's partly peer pressure not to excel
(except in sports); partly that the society teaches short-term gratification;partly the impression that science or mathematics won't buy you a sports car; partly that so little is expected of students; and partly that there are few rewards or role models for intelligent discussion of
science and technology—or even for learning for its own sake. Those few who remain interested are vilified as "nerds" or "geeks" or "grinds."
But there's something else: I find many adults are put off when
young children pose scientific questions. Why is the Moon round? the children ask. Why is grass green? What is a dream? How deep can you dig a hole? When is the world's birthday? Why do we have toes? Too many teachers and parents answer with irritation or ridicule, or quickly move on to something else: "What did you expect the Moon to be, square?" Children soon recognize that somehow this kind of question annoys the grown-ups. A few more experiences like it, and another child has been lost to science. Why adults should pretend to omniscience before 6-year-olds, I can't for the life of me understand. What's wrong with admitting that we don't know something? Is our self-esteem so fragile?
What's more, many of these questions go to deep issues in science,
a few of which are not yet fully resolved. Why the Moon is round has to do with the fact that gravity is a central force pulling towards the middle of any world, and with how strong rocks are. Grass is green because of the pigment chlorophyll, of course—we've all had that drummed into us by high school —but why do plants have chlorophyll?
It seems foolish, since the Sun puts out its peak energy in the
yellow and green part of the spectrum. Why should plants all over the world reject sunlight in its most abundant wavelengths? Maybe it's a frozen accident from the ancient history of life on Earth. But there's something we still don't understand about why grass is green.
There are many better responses than making the child feel that
asking deep questions constitutes a social blunder. If we have an idea of the answer, we can try to explain. Even an incomplete attempt constitutes a reassurance and encouragement. If we have no idea of the
answer, we can go to the encyclopedia. If we don't have an encyclopedia,
we can take the child to the library. Or we might say: "I don't
know the answer. Maybe no one knows. Maybe when you grow up,
you'll be the first person to find out."
There are naive questions, tedious questions, ill-phrased questions,
questions put after inadequate self-criticism. But every question is a cry to understand the world. There is no such thing as a dumb question.
Bright, curious children are a national and world resource. They
need to be cared for, cherished, and encouraged. But mere encouragement isn't enough. We must also give them the essential tools to think with."
I'm not a thinker. I don't propose solutions.
All I'm saying is
Be Curious.
"So we keep asking, over and over,
Until a handful of earth
Stops our mouths —
But is that an answer?"
-HEINRICH HEINE ,
Remember when we were little?
We were pondering over every little thing on earth.
The world seemed mysterious.
And we wanted to make sense out of it.
We were bubbling with curiosity and asked random questions
that we could think of;
"Why is the moon round?
Why do stars twinkle?
Why do we dream?
Why are plants green?"
Sure, we'd ask some naive questions too;
But that didn't stop us from being inquisitive.
Sometimes, when we don't get a straight honest answer to our questions, we assure ourselves that it is not the end.
We think, when we go to higher classes, we'd get our answers.
We think, when we grow old, it would all make sense.
But, did it make sense?
No. What's worse, the system has got to us.
Amidst an ocean of smart people, who are constantly striving to get ahead of us, even a minute wasted to curiosity seems like a blunder.
Teachers no more welcome questions.
They've struck a deal with the syllabus.
"To talk without understanding,
To teach without grasping.
To ridicule questions without listening."
has been their motto.
And we no more ask questions, for they are better left unanswered than wrong-answered.
We are learning in a minds-off environment.
Honestly, how many of us 'like' learning what we are taught?
We care more about grades and marks, but is that all?!
I personally feel, grades don't measure understanding.
So, lets ask ourselves a honest question:
Where is our education headed?
And a few other questions:
Do we know how to learn?
Does being curious pay off?
Of what use is, seeking answers to our questions?
Is questioning authority disrespectful?
This is a paragraph I read in "The Demon Haunted World" by
Carl Sagan. Being a genius astronomer and a science enthusiast,
he answers these questions in a vivid and inspiring manner.
Read through.
"In a world in transition, students and teachers both need to teach themselves one essential skill —learning how to learn.
Except for children (who don't know enough not to ask the important questions), few of us spend much time wondering why Nature is the way it is; where the Cosmos came from,
or whether it was always here;
if time will one day flow backward, and effects precede causes;
or whether there are ultimate limits to what humans can know. There are even children, and I have met some of them, who want to know what a black hole looks like; what is the smallest piece of matter; why we remember the past and not the future; and why there is a Universe.
Every now and then, I'm lucky enough to teach a kindergarten or
first-grade class. Many of these children are natural-born scientists,
although heavy on the wonder side and light on skepticism.
They're curious, intellectually vigorous. Provocative and insightful questions bubble out of them. They exhibit enormous enthusiasm. I'm asked follow-up questions. They've never heard of the notion of a "dumb question."
But when I talk to high school seniors, I find something different.
They memorize "facts." By and large, though, the joy of discovery,
the life behind those facts, has gone out of them. They've lost much of the wonder, and gained very little skepticism. They're worried about asking "dumb" questions; they're willing to accept inadequate answers;they don't pose follow-up questions; the room is awash with sidelong glances to judge, second-by-second, the approval of their peers. They come to class with their questions written out on pieces of paper, which they surreptitiously examine, waiting their turn and oblivious of whatever discussion their peers are at this moment engaged in.
Something has happened between first and twelfth grade, and it's
not just puberty. I'd guess that it's partly peer pressure not to excel
(except in sports); partly that the society teaches short-term gratification;partly the impression that science or mathematics won't buy you a sports car; partly that so little is expected of students; and partly that there are few rewards or role models for intelligent discussion of
science and technology—or even for learning for its own sake. Those few who remain interested are vilified as "nerds" or "geeks" or "grinds."
But there's something else: I find many adults are put off when
young children pose scientific questions. Why is the Moon round? the children ask. Why is grass green? What is a dream? How deep can you dig a hole? When is the world's birthday? Why do we have toes? Too many teachers and parents answer with irritation or ridicule, or quickly move on to something else: "What did you expect the Moon to be, square?" Children soon recognize that somehow this kind of question annoys the grown-ups. A few more experiences like it, and another child has been lost to science. Why adults should pretend to omniscience before 6-year-olds, I can't for the life of me understand. What's wrong with admitting that we don't know something? Is our self-esteem so fragile?
What's more, many of these questions go to deep issues in science,
a few of which are not yet fully resolved. Why the Moon is round has to do with the fact that gravity is a central force pulling towards the middle of any world, and with how strong rocks are. Grass is green because of the pigment chlorophyll, of course—we've all had that drummed into us by high school —but why do plants have chlorophyll?
It seems foolish, since the Sun puts out its peak energy in the
yellow and green part of the spectrum. Why should plants all over the world reject sunlight in its most abundant wavelengths? Maybe it's a frozen accident from the ancient history of life on Earth. But there's something we still don't understand about why grass is green.
There are many better responses than making the child feel that
asking deep questions constitutes a social blunder. If we have an idea of the answer, we can try to explain. Even an incomplete attempt constitutes a reassurance and encouragement. If we have no idea of the
answer, we can go to the encyclopedia. If we don't have an encyclopedia,
we can take the child to the library. Or we might say: "I don't
know the answer. Maybe no one knows. Maybe when you grow up,
you'll be the first person to find out."
There are naive questions, tedious questions, ill-phrased questions,
questions put after inadequate self-criticism. But every question is a cry to understand the world. There is no such thing as a dumb question.
Bright, curious children are a national and world resource. They
need to be cared for, cherished, and encouraged. But mere encouragement isn't enough. We must also give them the essential tools to think with."
I'm not a thinker. I don't propose solutions.
All I'm saying is
Be Curious.
"So we keep asking, over and over,
Until a handful of earth
Stops our mouths —
But is that an answer?"
-HEINRICH HEINE ,
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Your are gifted buddy !! This is awesome !!!
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