MY LEAP INTO EDUCATIONAL OUTER SPACE.

 I was less than a stellar student throughout Junior High School. I had read only two books on my own, both sports books. One was Joe DiMaggio’s autobiography, “Lucky To Be A Yankee,” and the other was a novel titled “City High” for my Ninth-Grade book report. My teacher had to point out to me, in front of the class, that it was a work of fiction. I really did not know the difference between the two types of books.

I wanted to attend Lakeside School, a first-rate prep school in Seattle, because I had read about its State Championship track team. To my own and my mother’s surprise, I passed the entrance exams and spent my sophomore year of high school there. As much as I loved the school, my classmates, and especially the athletic programs, I earned “C” grades in every class throughout the year, even though I had worked hard to do my best. I took English, Spanish, Algebra, and Medieval History, and I learned to study hard. I worked hard but started behind. This was the school that Bill Gates graduated from a few years later.

Part of the academic program at Lakeside required reading four additional books of one’s choice each year. In the Fall semester, I chose, rather indiscriminately, a life of Napoleon by Emil Ludwig and a novel by Sinclair Lewis entitled “Babbit.” In the Spring semester, I chose “Les Misérables” by Victor Hugo because its 1,222 pages counted as two books. Without knowing it, I had plunged into the rich but extremely unfamiliar world of serious literature. I admit that, as much as I enjoyed whatever I understood of these classics, by and large they were well over my head. I did read “Les Misérables” again years later. The first time through, it was all I could do to work my way through the broad outline of the complex storyline.

In addition to our regular class assignments, we had a two-hour study hall every evening except Saturday and Sunday. We wore ties and dress coats, but we played serious sports every day year-round. I made the Junior varsity teams in football, basketball, and track, and I learned a great deal from the outstanding athletes who attended Lakeside. I made some really good friends with whom I kept in touch for a couple of years until we went to college; they went to Ivy League schools and Stanford, and I went to the local Washington State College.     

I chose to return to my hometown public school for the remainder of high school. Because I had transitioned to the more rigorous environment of a preparatory school, I did quite well in high school, to the surprise of my Junior High teachers. College went even better, and although graduate school presented many difficulties, I did about average. My love for the subject matter in graduate school provided sufficient motivation to do the required work. I barely passed the exam with three professors, two to one. But in theological school, I finally “awoke” and plowed through with all A’s. I continued to grow as a budding scholar and finished my Ph.D. program at Duke University with ease. I must admit that passing the Foreign Language exams was a real challenge for me. Somehow I passed.  

Over the years since those early, very difficult school days, I have managed to publish a good many scholarly articles and books in my fields. Thinking and writing about complex and abstract ideas have become something of a second nature. But I have not forgotten those years and struggles as a naive youngster. Indeed, I like to think, not without some basis, that my own struggles with the world of ideas have enabled me to sympathize with beginning students and to try to offer concrete help in navigating it. I myself have found the adventure rewarding.

“NOW FOR  SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT”

Many of you may remember this line from the opening of “Monty Python’s Flying Circus” from way back when. That’s also a good introduction to this piece today. Many years ago, I acquired a book titled “Dictionary of Word Origins” by John Ayto. It’s almost 600 pages of information about how more than 8,000 English words originated. It’s fascinating, though often a bit boring, reading. It occasionally reveals some fascinating facts about both languages and the people who speak them. From time to time, like now, I’ll try to share some of these insights on these pages.

“Acre” is an ancient word that appears to be the source of words such as “agent” and “act,” whose base meaning concerns “do” and “drive.” In addition to their connections to other ancient languages, such words pertain to agriculture, once farming had moved from herding animals to cultivating fields or enclosed areas. Eventually, the word came to refer to an area of land that a pair of oxen could plow in one day. This was the first measurement, and thus the meaning, of the term “acre,” rough though it be. Later on, such measurements came to be determined by pacing off the areas. Thus, so many “paces” came to define and determine the area and term “acre.”

Here’s another example. “Advertise” originally derives from the Latin “turn towards” or “adverse,” meaning “to turn away.” Eventually, the word came to mean“warning” or “giving notice.” This led to the modern meaning of “being against” or “ignored.” The modern sense of the term, “to describe publicly so as to increase sales,” did not appear until the mid-18^th century, as in “advertisement.” Funny how meanings often seem to reverse themselves.

I’ll try to include such linguistic “bon mot” examples in future editions. Obviously not as much fun as Monty Python’s, but perhaps enjoyable and educational in some sense. : O)