My Visits To Worthington High Schools

Hey Folks,

As mentioned in an earlier post, I am fortunate enough to speak four times a year at Worthington High Schools to their "political radicalism" classes where a series of radical speakers - the entire spectrum from Left to Right - step onto the soap box. This week I'm off to Thomas Worthington, a venerable old school near where I went to high school (yep, it's that old).

I always suggest that the students listen carefully to the speakers but not believe anything they say – including me. I tell them nobody knows any more about the important aspects of life than they do.

Experts claim to know everything, but can never agree on anything; they aren't really seeking reality or trying to solve a problem; they're proselytizing. Hear what they say, but think for yourself.

This confuses some students because of the seeming paradox:

I tell them not to believe any of us, but if they take that advice, then they are believing me.

Aha!! It must be a trick the crafty Uke Man is pulling on them! He really means: "Listen to me and not the others!"

Well, I guess it could look like that, and of course I hope they will find some sense in what I present, but actually I do mean for them to listen and decide for themselves.

Sure, like all the other speakers I think I am extremely wise and have a muscular half-nelson on the infinite - don't we all? But at the same time, I am convinced that each of us must find wisdom for ourselves.

We can help one another find the path and set out in promising directions, but we cannot hand wisdom to anyone. This truth is supported by even the most cursory consideration of advertising and politics, both of which concentrate on manipulating us rather than relying upon our wisdom. Manipulation is much easier and more succesful in "selling" the "product" (see H.L. Mencken).

There is no paradox. I don't want the students to "believe" me. My advice might be wise (I think it is), but it is worthless unless one sees the wisdom for oneself. Otherwise, it's like believing, after reading a few copies of "The Las Vegas Adviser," that you can beat the casinos.

Steven Crane spoke to this matter in a poem:

I met a seer.
He held in his hands
The book of wisdom.
"Sir," I addressed him,
"Let me read."
"Child-" he began.
"Sir," I said,
"Think not that I am a child,
For already I know much
Of that which you hold.
Aye, much."

He smiled,
Then he opened the book
And held it before me. -
Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind.


- Uke Man