Questions are the New Answers

Today marks the return of Lucas. This is his fourth visit, third credited. Please enjoy.

questions not answersHi again, it’s Lucas. I’m just sitting here in class,
considering a conclusion that I didn’t want to pass.

I was diddling some doodles, on my paper with my pen
when I had a little insight that was altogether zen.

The thought was kind of large, at least larger than me,
but it shined a bit of light on the way that things should be.

You may think it silly, but I have some concern
about the way we get our answers and the way that we all learn.

The way our teachers teach us, well it’s based on an old system.
Now that times are changing, I think we should be changing with them.

The methods they use now reward all those who memorize the most.
Learn by rote, take the test and then they’re fit to boast.

But facts and figures fall to fruitless when you’re looking at your feet,
and find that they’re now bopping to a wholly different beat.

It blew in like a cyclone, this redefining shift.
We didn’t catch it quickly. Now we’ve found ourselves adrift.

You see, a system built on answers simply can not grow.
We need creative queries to bring us brand new things to know.

With the Internet inside our palm, answers lose their worth.
The techniques we use to learn deserve to have a brand new birth.

Questions have more value because they teach us how to think;
our thoughts and are behavior share an undisputed link.

Should we absorb the moment of that first shot in a war
or could there be some bigger issues that we could explore?

If we believe that answers shouldn’t come first anymore,
then we’ll develop questions that have not been thought before.

Let’s ponder this example: let’s bow our heads and think.
Take your time, take a breath. Okay, now go ahead and blink.

Let’s flip back in time a while to when Human Beings were new.
Before we had societies, in the dawn of our debut.

We were not committing answers then, with just one thing to solve.
The question we were asking was, “now, how can we evolve?”

First we worked with fire. Then we worked the land.
We had so many questions, and so much to understand.

We created language, art, religion and set Governments in place,
as the entire population spread across our planet’s face.

Now we have computers and answers oozing cheap.
It’s time for the entire race to take another giant leap.

Let’s ask ourselves about our future and discover what is next.
If we start out asking simply, we can soon grow more complex.

The next time that your teacher asks the answer to a question,
raise your hand and say “Excuse me, but I’ve got a suggestion.”

Say, “Answers were for yesterday. I’m looking toward our fate;
a future filled with such potential, I can hardly wait.

Perhaps tomorrow we’ll have a world where there isn’t any war;
no disease, hungry people, or violence any more.

If we start knowing what to ask, our future has no ceiling.
I know that I am just a kid, but listen to my feeling.”

You can be just like my teacher when I told her the word.
She said, “Lucas Bright, that is the smartest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Sean Platt is a dad, ghostwriter, and occassional potty training expert.

But Daddy

“Don’t wait to make your son a great man – make him a great boy.”  

~Author Unknown

So the other day, Mia and I were…  

Dad.”

“Hold on buddy, I’m telling a story.”

But I have to tell you something.”

“Okay, but hurry.  This post isn’t gonna write itself.”

“It’s my turn.

“What do you mean?  Your turn for what?”

“You talked about Mia last day.  It’s my turn.”

“No, Max.  Yesterday I wrote about language, and how we learn…”

“No Daddy, you talked about Mia’s school.  You always talk about her.  You never talk about me.”

“That’s not true, Max.”

Yes, Daddy.  It is.”

I see what you’re saying, Buddy, but I did a whole post about you right when I first started.  Remember?”

“I know how to count, Daddy.  This is just like all the pictures of Mia in iphoto.

“… Um… Well, do you want to watch a movie?”

“Daddy…

“It’s just that you’re such a good boy, Max.  And people like conflict.  Mia gives me more to talk about.  You know how Daddy keeps working on his book?  It’s because there’s not enough conflict.”

“Maybe you could work on the book instead of talking about Mia.

“You’re right, Max.  Come here and give me a hug.”

I know exactly what to say. 

My son Max is the nicest person I’ve ever met.  

Yes, I know.  Being his father should reduce my opinion to little more than an infomercial intruding from another room, but really, if you met him, I’m sure you’d agree. 

He says thank you for everything, from a donut before school (a rarity, I promise) to a shot in the arm from the doctor (I’ll tell you that story some other time). 

He admits when he’s tired, and tells me at least ten times a day that he loves me, that I’m his best friend, or both. 

He will share any toy with anyone, without so much as a thought to slow him. 

He is not yet familiar with the worst of humanity, and still believes in everything from Santa Clause to the Easter Bunny without the thinnest wrinkle of suspicion. 

He is a teacher’s dream and would make any parent proud. 

What about the conflict?

Well, thankfully, he isn’t perfect. 

If our rascal was perfect now, Daisy and I would be living in dread of the moment the rug would be yanked from under our feet; terrified that the days were numbered until our little boy was swallowed by the monster of adolescence, causing us to rescind every kind word we’d ever gushed on his behalf. 

No, Max may be impossibly nice, but he can also be quite the little rascal, with just enough pesky conduct to assure us that none of his boy parts are broken. 

His three most reassuring behaviors:

  • Max has the innate ability to lead (manipulate) just about any child (no more than two years his senior) into doing exactly what he wants at any given time.  This is a jedi like gift, but he has not always chosen to use it for good. 
  • He has the ability to migrate from riotous laughter to sullen pout in the thinnest slice of a second (a performance that works exponentially better on Daisy than it does on me, though the opposite I’m sure is true with Mia). 
  • Max has the occasional, yet unwavering conviction that he is in charge of drafting the house rules, and that everyone else must have simply missed the memo. 

But even in their totality, or packed inside a single day, Max really is the most delightful boy I could ever imagine – generous, and funny, and nice.  

Seriously, Max, if you were any less of a rascal, I’d be searching for my receipt. 

Writer Dad