Ignorance

At first, reading through Horace Miner's "Body Ritual Among the Nacirema," it's easy to deride the behavior of the "Nacirema" tribe. For instance, the "magical potions" (6), "so numerous that people forget what their purposes were" (7). A ridiculous concept, indeed--and then the punchline: we are laughing at ourselves.

Actually, the issue of ignorance extends far past the drugs in our medicine cabinets. It's just hard for people to admit. How many people can name just the basics of how their iPhones work? What about their cars? Plumbing? Microwaves? Most of us live in a world full of inventions beyond our understanding, and we take them for granted. And yet, ironically, we snicker at the Nacirema's "holy-mouth-men" (9). 

This is the paradox of technological advancement: it's impossible to learn as quickly as technology progresses. Even expert engineers, those leading their field, rarely know everything there is to know about their subject. It takes a collective effort, by many talented people, to continue to improve. Little wonder, then, that the average consumer knows so little about what he's buying. Is there really any way to bridge the knowledge gap between the average person and specialists? At this rate, it won't be long before technology really will become indistinguishable from magic. 

A Reasonable Suggestion

It is truly a pitiable sight to see American students struggling to complete homework assignments, and it is not uncommon for them to fail their courses, eventually ending up becoming delinquents. These students, instead of being able to take advantage of their many opportunities, are forced to endure a lifetime of being uneducated; the fault clearly lies with government-mandated standards.

I think it is widely-agreed that America's educational system is in desperate need of reform, and that anyone who could propose a way to revitalize the passion for learning in our nation's youth would deserve a monument dedicated to them as the savior of the U.S.

As to my own part, I have considered the issue for many long years, and carefully reviewed the ideas of other politicians, but I have always found them lacking. It is true, a student may excel throughout elementary school with little encouragement, and it is precisely after graduation from elementary school that I plan to implement my solution.

I shall now humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.

I have been assured by the finest of scientists that reducing the educational standards across the board will not only improve quality of life, but also delight our students; and I make it no doubt that America will soon overtake the rest of the world on standardized testing.

Lowering America's national curriculum to the level of 2nd grade will allow improvements of up to 213.43% on standardized tests. Indeed, the dropout rate is estimated to decrease by 12,339,400.75% after the students most at risk are accommodated. There are many other benefits; for example, America will skyrocket to the top in average test scores, easily surpassing Finland and South Korea. Moreover, allowing all students to score 100% on everything will further America's goal of equality. No more will intelligent students get more attention; instead, everyone will be able to learn fairly.

Knowledge ≠ Wisdom

Scientific progress has had a long history of ethical dilemmas. It seems that the two are inseparable: from animal cruelty to artificial intelligence, complex moral issues arise from the simplest of scientific inquiries.

At one time we had wisdom, but little knowledge. Now we have a great deal of knowledge, but do we have enough wisdom to deal with that knowledge? 

-Jonas Salk

In "A Measure of Restraint," Chet Raymo voices a similar opinion of genetic engineering. His goal isn't to condemn--Raymo realizes genetic engineering is of "potential benefit to society" (10)--but instead to caution readers of the "peril" (11) that comes with reckless experimentation. He uses two historical examples of cesium and radium to support his claim, and interweaves imagery with jargon as a way to appeal to emotions. Raymo's essay raises tricky questions about "the enterprise of science" (10) which he himself is unable to answer. It's plain to see that research is valuable to society, but is there a line we shouldn't cross? When do the risks outweigh the benefits? 

Raymo's allusion to Frankenstein (10) encapsulates his fears. Frankenstein's monster, the result of Dr. Frankenstein's attempt to create life, is feared by even his creator. Is the demonstration of mastery over nature worth the pain suffered by Frankenstein's grotesque 
creation? 

As technology continues to advance, ethics will inevitably play a larger role in science. At some point or another, the elephant in the room--what is the ultimate goal of science?--must be dealt with.

Profiling is Puzzling

In "Black Men and Public Space," Brent Staples uses personal anecdotes to illustrate profiling from a different perspective. While others might say that racial profiling isn't as prevalent today, Staples makes it clear that it is very much thriving. To this end, he casually states "black men trade tales like this all the time" (10) to show how commonplace his experiences are. The fates of innocent black men paint a grim portrait of society; however, there seems to be few alternatives, because "the danger [society] perceive[s] is not a hallucination" (5). Indeed, Staples himself can offer no permanent solution, resorting to whistling classical music (12) as a temporary fix. There is hope, though. If Jimi Hendrix, another black man, can earn the respect and adoration of millions--not to mention other highly successful African Americans--perhaps one day, the stigma associated with being black will wear off. If we are to progress as a society, we must be willing to toss our prejudice into the fire. This applies not only to black men, but also to the other minorities in society: the homeless, like Jeannette Walls's parents, come to mind. When you think about it, placed in context of the vastness of outer space, discrimination is really a petty affair. 

To the Fullest

In her story "The Death of the Moth," Virginia Woolf views the eponymous moth with "a kind of pity" (3) as it tries in vain to escape his prison. His struggle captivates Woolf, who admires the moth's vitality. Indeed, its defiance of a "power of such magnitude" (5) bears a resemblance to our own lives. Although the moth, to us, seems "frail and diminutive" (2), capable of little but "dancing and zigzagging" (3), we are not much better off in the grand scheme of things.

Woolf describes the morning as full of "possibilities of pleasure" (2), in contrast to the moth's "meager opportunities" (2), but what use are possibilities if not realized? The moth is constrained by the windowpane, but we are often constrained as well, either by our own limitations or those set by society. At least the moth takes every chance it can get, even if those chances seem "pathetic" (2) to us. We may have infinitely more opportunity than the moth, but few people take advantage of those opportunities.

So, although the moth's attempts are "futile" (4), and its "zest...pathetic" (2), Woolf recognizes it has a certain value. It is life in purest form, unburdened by philosophy. The moth refuses to give in to death, and that is the "true nature of life" (3). In the face of "oncoming doom" (5), we are just about as helpless as the moth--but that doesn't keep us from, as they say, fighting the good fight.

Math Homework with My Father

I didn't find the parent-child relationships in Sarah Vowell's "Shooting Dad" and Brad Manning's "Arm Wrestling with My Father" very relatable. Growing up, my father and I rarely shared our opinions on matters of politics or hobbies, and certainly never arm wrestled. In fact, we still don't communicate much to this day, due to a combination of cultural, lingual, and generational divides.

Despite our lack of conversation, my dad and I have reached a mutual understanding. I suppose it's similar to Brad Manning's relationship with his father, although it manifests itself in different ways.

Throughout elementary school, my dad loved to help me with my math homework. He would always attempt to teach me something new, and I would usually become frustrated because I just wanted to finish my homework. Looking back, math was one of the few ways he could spend time with me, and so he took every chance he could get.

As I grew older, I also grew more independent--"a rebel in the household" (Manning 5), you might say. I refused to ask my dad for advice, believing I had everything under control, and becoming annoyed when he asked me questions. Only recently have I come to realize that his intrusions meant he wanted to help, that his frequent lectures about medical school are his way of showing affection. And so we've been reconciled: I still don't particularly enjoy his lectures, but I understand he just wants me to succeed in life. He doesn't ask for much in return; I suspect he'd just get embarrassed if I tried to tell him this. 

It's a peculiar kind of love, but as Manning illustrates, love isn't restricted to verbal communication.

The Gulf Stream

Winslow Homer, The Gulf Stream (1899)

The man on the boat is wearing nothing but
pants, stranded in the middle of the ocean,
staring to the left to avoid seeing the sharks'
gaping maws; he refuses to give them the
satisfaction of tasting his fear. He's beginning
to lose hope as he hears the howling whirlwind
slowly approaching--in fact, it seems the closer
it gets, the slower it moves, until everything 
comes to a 
stop.
The burning sun sears his skin, but the light
gives him strength; he stoically accepts his
fate as his mind begins to wander: what did
he do to deserve this, and 
what will happen to his family when he's gone and 
what will happen when he dies, and 
by God, if he makes it out of
this alive he'll never drink again, never
neglect his kid, never
argue with his wife, never...
It's funny, he thinks, how suddenly
there's so much time, enough to do anything
in the world, if only it weren't for the
crashing waves, the ravenous sharks,
the wailing whirlwind. He's seen
the distant ship--is it a ship, or a cloud, or
a figment of his imagination?--but
he refuses to stare at it, he
doesn't believe it will bear the weight
of his faith, he knows there's nothing more
torturous in the world than
a false hope.