I've just finished reading chapter one of Steven Johnson's latest, The Invention of Air. This follows my recent completion of The Drunkard's Walk: How Randomness Rules Our Lives, where Leonard Mlodinow eloquently explained the mathematical concepts behind random actions. Both books deal with the matter of how events often develop out of thin air (much more so than we could ever imagine). In particular, both writers discuss how great leaps forward in conceptual thinking are typically the result of sheer luck -- being in the right place at the right time.
Which is not to say that people aren't deserving of their fame and legacy. It's just that in addition to having a good dose of smarts, it never hurts to have the good fortune of being in a time and place where someone else recognizes your genius. It's safe to say that there have been many more geniuses in the history of our world who didn't benefit from such luck, and therefore did not grace us with whatever insights they may have developed. But that's just the way it is. Occasionally you hit in a game of roulette; more often, you miss.
On a personal note, in recent days I've run into two situations that seem to be pure cases of randomness. First, a buddy of mine suddenly contracted a bacterial infection in his elbow that, if not for quick action by doctors, would have led to flesh-eating disease. The doctors had very little explanation for the way the bacteria in his arm all decided to congregate and attack his elbow. But that's something that will happen at random. We all have bacteria in our bodies, and usually we handle them just fine; for some reason, the bacteria in my friend's body turned on him. There's probably no point looking for a reason. It may have just been a random (bad) luck of the draw.
The other incident took place at a bookstore in Seoul this past weekend. While browsing for a good book to buy (the one that eventually became The Invention of Air), a young Korean man who had been standing next to me for a few moments suddenly asked if I worked for JLS. Since I do, I said yes. He then asked if my name was Phil. I was clearly surprised, and I went on to learn that he had been in a class of mine some four or five years earlier. He was now a student at New York University who was doing a summer internship in Korea. So, in a city of over ten million people, a guy I met maybe a dozen times in a writing class years earlier now recognized me. Seems almost bizarre on the surface. But I would have to guess that the odds of such a meeting are not that astronomical since I have taught thousands of students in my years in Korea. In spite of aging, at least one of those students was bound to know me, and we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
For the past couple of days, I've wondered what (if any) significance there is to be gleaned from this chance encounter. Perhaps it comes in the comment he made that despite the fact many of the students in that class were being ignorant and inattentive (paraphrasing), he personally liked the class. Over the years, there have been certain classes where I've been so turned off by the general apathy of the students that I've forgotten that one or two of them may actually have been getting something from the course. In other words, this encounter may have been my wake-up call to not throw in the towel when I get frustrated with a class. Not all of the students are wasting their time, and it is my responsibility to reach those who care. Well, okay, it's my responsibility to reach ALL students -- I know, I get that. But I shouldn't lump them all together.
And this leads me to some thoughts about another book I read recently: Teacher Man by Frank McCourt. He gained fame a few years ago for his Pulitzer prize-winning memoir Angela's Ashes. In Teacher Man, McCourt tells of his 30 years as a teacher in New York City high schools, of his struggle to reach students under difficult circumstances. It is a wonderful ongoing story that is easy to relate to for any teacher. Some of his thoughts, gleaned from in-the-moment situations, particularly struck me: "If you bark or snap (at the students), you lose them. That's what they get from parents and the schools in general... If they strike back with the silent treatment, you're finished in the classroom... They have you by the balls and you created the situation." Yikes! And so true.
Teaching... history... randomness... the future -- what does it hold?
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