All day I have been having inklings of what I would write today. All day my mind has been pre-occupied with various desires to express. In the end it is the friends and teachers who have come to mind. This evening after work I spent a couple of hours in dialogue with a kindred spirit from work. He grew up in the old Soviet Union, I in Canada. Our differences, other than accent, are miniscule. We share a love for exploring new ideas. Igor has an infectious desire to know things and to talk about what he has learned, where he has been, what he has seen and what he has felt. While we were talking, the conversation moved around to a point where I remembered for him my pathway to discovery.
While in High School I was a particularly unremarkable student. I didn’t really want to be there. I failed grade 12 three times. My final results in the last go around were 51%. It was just enough for academia to be rid of me. I spent the next years at odd jobs, discovering chemicals and smoking the plant-life and generally being a non-productive member of society. I traveled, met new friends, and took life a day at a time or even a moment at a time. This was first of the “No Worries Mate” parts of my life. I went through a rather abrupt transition from that to meeting my first wife, getting married and settling down into a responsible life-style. At 25 I wanted more and, so, at the urging of my wife, headed off to the Vancouver School of Art.
There I discovered I really enjoyed the process of creation but I didn’t like to have my creations criticized (it was tantamount to my own self being criticized). I did discover, however, that I enjoyed dialogue, even monologue. I enjoyed discussing things, anything. Start me talking on a subject and it was like giving a dog a bone. While I was having fun conversing (usually one way – which means the conversation was a monologue) with my fellow artists who, for the most part, didn’t want to dissect their motivations or the meaning in their works, I began to feel that I should probably be an art teacher so that I would have an outlet for all this inner monologue.
So, after two years of study in Art School, I headed off to become a teacher. The University of British Columbia (UBC), even though I explained I was now a mature student ready to buckle down and learn, felt that I would not do well given my High School record, and told me, in what felt like a mocking way, that they wouldn’t take me but Vancouver Community College (VCC) probably would – “They Take Anybody” was the dismissive. I was shocked, I was perturbed, I was miffed, I was mortified, and I was pissed! “How dare they tell me something like that. Yeah, well,…., I’ll show them SOBs”.
I bundled up and headed off, with my somewhat bruised EGO, to VCC, Lanagara campus to see if they would take me. No problem, they said. UBC had given me a list of Credit Courses they wanted me to take so they would know if I had the right stuff -- English, French, Math, Geography and History. I ended up with Canadian Literature and Canadian History (can’t go wrong with your own country), Statistics, Creative Writing (might as well be artistic in the mix) and since I really hated Geography in High School, I chose a non-geographical Geography course called “The Philosophy of Geography”. As it turned out the person who was to have the most significant impact on me at that stage in my life was teaching the Geography course. The geography course, as it turned out, was my first class. When I entered the classroom, I remember choosing the desk furthest away from the instructor’s desk.
Mr. Sutherland arrived just at the bell and began instructing. He let us know what the course was all about and then he went off on a monologue I can’t remember listening to, but I must have, at one level anyway. The only words I can remember hearing were: “Who disagrees with that?”. Only one hand in the room went up and I was dismayed to find it was my own. He beckoned me to stand. Now, this was very strange because at that instant I felt like two people, an observer and the observed. I was observing myself responding to the question although I cannot, for the life of me, remember what I said, I was too taken aback by this shift of consciousness. Mr. Sutherland walked back to his desk, sat down and began writing. I, the observed, continued babbling on. At some point the talking stopped, the observed disappeared, and the observer became self conscious and sat down.
After an apparently lengthy time of quiet during which Mr. S. continued writing, he put down his pen, stood up, and began walking toward me. On the way he asked “Do you know what you just said?”. This was the worst question he could ask me. I didn’t want to tell him that someone else did the talking and I didn’t have a clue. He got to my desk and, while looking down at me, uttered the following stunning words. “That was the most profound answer to that question I have ever heard.” It stunned me. It did something else, as well. As he turned his attention back to the class and began talking to them about what had just happened, something inside me did a 180 degree shift. The observed was awakened, and the observed wanted to know everything. The desire for knowledge had been unlocked. Mr. S. had found the key and he employed it.
After lunch I had my second class, Modern Canadian Literature. The instructor did roll-call. When he called my name I answered. He stopped, got up from his desk to have a look and said “So, you’re the one”. What could have been embarrassing was an acknowledgement. It became obvious as I went from one class to the other that Mr. Sutherland had pre-announced me. The rest of university life was a breeze. Nothing was too difficult. How could it be when it was so exciting!.. So much to learn.
My hat is always off to the Mr. Sutherlands of the world. They do great service waking up the sleepers. Thank-you from the bottom of my heart to my Mr. Gordon Sutherland and to all the Mr. Sutherlands everywhere who somehow are part of the awakening.
posted by Michael @ 12:14 AM
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