Life in A Paradoxical World

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

A paradox gets our attention because it upsets logic and expectations.   By definition, it states a proposition that seems self-contradictory, yet really expresses a possible truth.

Some examples are deceptively simple.   For instance, I could tell a friend that nobody goes to a particular restaurant because it is always too crowded.  A boy could be warned not to go near the water until he learns how to swim.  Or a parent might complain to a teacher, I know you haven’t taught my child anything because he hasn’t learned anything.  

 Various puzzlers can be found throughout literature, science, and religion.   In his classic Animal Farm, George Orwell tells us that “all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.” Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu makes us hesitate by saying, “If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.”  Historians explain how history repeats itself.  Still we selfishly manipulate the obvious.   In medicine, drugs we develop to reduce pain can cause death.  Ironically, we must invent other drugs to reverse our addictive demise.      

Revealing truths lie behind many of these apparent contradictions.   One tries to convince us that learning is a lost cause.  The more we learn the less we know.  What?  Should it not be the reverse?  Why would we spend billions of dollars and years educating ourselves to know less?

 The answer is that knowledge is endless.  The more we study to acquire and use it, the more we discover how much we don’t know.  Maybe this is why all of us should become lifelong learners.    

To continue with learning, common sense suggests that delving deeper into a topic and becoming a specialist is the best way to become an expert.   In some ways it certainly is.  When the pipes break, I want a plumber who really knows what they are doing.

 On the other hand, generalists excel as innovators and predictors of the future.  Those who build competencies across a wide range of fields as the world grows more complex can deduce their way to creative conclusions.  Too much knowledge may hamper versatility and ingrain fixed habits.

   Another paradox tempts us to think we are making progress toward some important goal because we are learning more and more about the method to get there.  Not so fast.  This conclusion is shaky for two reasons.

 First, we accumulate biases and misconceptions along the way, and as others regularly add new ideas to the mix, it becomes necessary to unlearn before we can learn.  By reorganizing or updating our knowledge base, we can clear our mindset and restart.

  A second problem is the tendency for goals to become our final destination.  Once achieved, we sort of forget about them.  The better approach, say experts, is to focus on habits.  They are self-renewing, and they compound themselves into lasting results.

Entire books are written about the paradoxes of health and medicine.  Unquestionably we are producing miracles by means of gene therapy, lifesaving drugs, and innovative diagnostic equipment.  But are we all victims of medical extortion?   We spend nearly a fifth of our gross domestic product on healthcare, amounting to $3 trillion annually.  On average, other countries spend half of what we spend per person, yet we deliver worse health care outcomes than any other developed country.  There are no easy political answers, but this much we know:  When profits trump compassion, we confront an unhealthy paradox.    

Budgetary reality also impinges on the field of education.   To illustrate, class size has been debated for years.  Reducing class size should verifiably improve student achievement using standardized measures.  It does, particularly when instructional methods are tailored to the change.  However, smaller classes require more teachers which is a comparatively expensive solution.  Besides, improvements in standardized test results are a suspicious measure of real learning.  As a result, debates about cost efficiency and effectiveness heat up during budget season.   

 Looking beyond these particular examples, our paradoxical world plays havoc with emotions.  One of my favorites is about loving because it tests our understanding of who or what we may try to control.  Think about this:  if you love someone, let them go.  If they return, they were always yours, and if they don’t, they never were. 

The Unity of Time

The Unity of Time

by Jeffrey Bowen

May the winds of spring remind you

Of the leaves that blew last fall,

And the summer sun send warmth

When winter gives you none at all. 

Let the seasons send a message

Write like patchwork on a quilt,

When squares are stitched together,

They show something more is built

With foresight to its purpose,

And beauty of design,

A scheme of vivid reasons

For the Unity of time.

The Social Inspiration That Came From Away

The Social Inspiration That Came From Away

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Recently we attended an awe-inspiring musical titled “Come from Away”.  The play interprets the true 9/11 story of 7,000 jet passengers whose flights from abroad were diverted to and delayed for several days in the isolated rural community of Gander, Newfoundland. 

With the help of just a dozen actors and a few props, we felt the shock and uncertainty of the passengers, followed by the compassionate response of a community whose population had instantly doubled.         

The wonder of this play comes from of the way people connected with each other.   In the midst of tragedy, social bonds were forged by heart-warming cultural exchanges, unique celebrations, lifelong friendships, and eventually even a marriage.  Shared inspirations about how to solve practical problems seemed to ignite continuously.  

It does not take a crisis or a play to experience the healing power of the Gander phenomenon.  Our need to connect socially is just as compelling as our need for water and food.

 In the grocery store recently, I stood beside a lady who was looking over a display of apples.  She remarked, “You know, I have always loved the Granny Smith apples because they make the best pies.”  Suddenly this reminded me of the neglected, unpicked tree that stands in our back yard.  I told my fellow shopper, “Wow, thanks!  My mom made the best apple pies ever, without using a recipe, but my wife’s are even better.  I have this tree with big green apples, but for years we have never picked it.  Now I will!”  

My point is that every day, and everywhere we venture, there are connections waiting to be discovered.   Some involve people and relationships, while others are triggered by ideas.  The two types tend to cross paths.  The key is to create or at least respond to inviting circumstances.   By sharing ourselves, asking questions and listening, we open doors to understanding ourselves and others.  Wise decisions and choices usually follow.

Research on our brains strongly suggests that social pain caused by alienation or loneliness produces actual physical pain that can damage every aspect of our health.  By the same token, positive social contacts are intrinsically motivating and gain strength from exercise.  Uniquely, humans are able to focus on the thoughts and feelings of others.  Doing so produces a potent advantage when we collaborate on a common goal.

As a retired school executive, I have often reflected on the kinds of social connections that produce the best results for our school community.  Often they thrive in extracurricular activities where relationships can be less formal and teamwork is essential.  What is more, I have concluded the following:  newer teachers benefit immensely from a mentor or induction program; students learn best when they teach each other; and when we lock curriculum into separate disciplines, we discourage curiosity and creativity.  Interdisciplinary learning sparks connections.

 in a journal I maintained for several years, I combined these thoughts into a philosophy: “Academic learning is surely important, but no more so than the social and emotional learning needed to develop positive interpersonal relationships and to collaborate to solve problems and get things done.  School is a society.  We have to make it become a community for ourselves and our students.”     

In Gander, a sense of community prevailed.  The stranded passengers gratefully funded a scholarship for the children.   Their future education sets the stage, but ultimately our children’s success in life, and our own as well, takes root from the social lessons we witnessed in Newfoundland.  

How We Discovered the Real Treasures of France

How We Discovered the Real Treasures of France

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

  On a recent trip to France, my wife and I realized that its impressive places and works of art came alive when we took a closer look at the stories of their creators.   Here are three of those stories about people whose historical dimensions gave purpose to our travels.  

In May of 1770 a 14-year-old winsome teenager named Antoine was escorted to France by an entourage of 57 carriages and 376 horses.  Awaiting was her future husband, a 15-year-old named Louis, the king’s grandson and heir apparent to the throne.   Soon known formally as Marie Antoinette, the young Austrian beauty had ash-blond hair, grayish blue eyes, and a radiant complexion.  She was lighthearted, frivolous and extravagant.  The public immediately embraced her like a latter-day rock star.   

Before long Marie learned how to celebrate wealth.  She thrived on the social whirl while her subjects increasingly suffered from high taxes and poor harvests.  Nor did she understand her public’s growing demand for democracy.  Although she never did say “Let them eat cake”, Marie was rather unfairly vilified and blamed for her country’s bankrupt treasury.  Just 23 years after her coronation, France’s last queen was publicly humiliated, beheaded and thrown into a commoner’s grave.   By 1793 her fairy tale became a tragedy beset by revolution.

  Nearly a century later, as the centennial celebration of that revolution neared, a unique wrought iron framework was taking shape on the city’s military parade ground of Paris.  Nowadays known as the Eiffel Tower, the so-called Iron Lady was roundly denounced as ugly, oversized, and likely to collapse.   Few believed it would be permanent.  But its talented designer, Gustav Eiffel, insisted the 984-foot tower would stand strong against the winds of time and serve as an enduring tribute to his country’s economic and technological rejuvenation.  Tragically, in the next century the limits of that renewal would be sorely tested twice in world wars.

     

 Gaston Huet was one of thousands of French and British soldiers trapped between Hitler’s Wehrmacht and the sea at the northwestern corner of France in May of 1940.   His home was the Loire Valley, and his lifelong commitment was to his vineyard in Vouvray.  Both would become an impossible dream over the next five years as Huet and his mates tried to survive in a POW camp for 4,000 officers in Silesia, Germany. 

After returning starved and near death from the war, Huet’s first words were, “The vines, what about the vines?” This legendary vintner went on to become one of France’s greatest winemakers as well as the mayor of Vouvray for 46 years.

The story of Gaston Huet reflects the extraordinary survival of French wines and vineyards despite the stubborn efforts of the Nazis to steal, secretly store, or transport back to Germany millions of bottles of the yields of France.   However, by sealing their precious wines behind brick walls in cellars, burying them underground in family gardens, and storing them in caves, or as a last recourse diluting them and giving Nazis the dregs, the French winemakers preserved their best wines for posterity.     

  France’s love for wine grapes is unquenchable.  Today the country produces

seven billion bottles annually across seven different wine-producing regions.  Rules for growing are strictly enforced by the state so that top quality is preserved.  Anyone who travels the rural roads of France, just as we did on our trip, must come away believing that vineyards and wine are the heart and soul of France.

Our trip included dining in Paris on the lower platform restaurant of the Eiffel Tower.  Coincidentally, the restaurants and elevators above us were closed due to 50 mile-per-hour gales.  Even though we felt a slight sway, we silently thanked Gustav Eiffel for building a monument that welcomes the winds.    

Finally, our visit to the City of Light would have been incomplete without a visit to Versailles, which is really comprised of the palace, gardens, and on the same grounds just outside the city, a magical chateau called the Petit Trianon.  This Disney-like fantasy land was really Marie Antoinette’s private domain, given by her husband as a hideaway.  There she and her companions could isolate themselves from the prying eyes of the hoi polloi and enjoy magnificent décor, musical plays, and a unique hamlet with quaint cottages, ponds, and endless flower gardens.  Marie and her friends loved the idea of pretending to farm.  

Our trip reached beyond the stunningly elaborate décor of Versailles, the dominating Iron Lady of Paris, and miles of vineyards.  No question, the sheer natural beauty of the landscape and cultural sites were a delight.   But our experience was more deeply enriched by characters who told us their stories.   The individuals I have introduced -- Marie Antoinette, Gustav Eiffel, and Gaston Huet – embody the destinies, accomplishments, and fates that reflect the real treasures of France.