School was finished, and it was the start of the summer holidays. After the holidays I was going to move up to the next class. This would be exciting because a whole new batch of kids who had never been to school before would come into the classroom where I had spent the previous year, and I was going to move to a new classroom. This somehow showed that I was progressing. It seemed to represent a milestone - something to mark the passage of my life. As this was the first day of my holidays, I decided to go and tell the rabbit about the good news.
. . .
"Good news that this is the first day of your holiday, or good news that next term you'll be going to a new class?" asked the rabbit.
"Both, I guess."
"So now you are getting yourself an education," said the rabbit with admiration.
"Why do I need an education?" I asked. "Why can't I just go out and learn as I go?"
"If nothing else, an education lets people know that you have been able to find your way to school every day, which, in its self is an accomplishment," said the rabbit. "As a by-product, there is a remote chance that you learned something useful."
"You can't teach an old dog new tricks," I quoted.
"You can't?" mused the rabbit. "I knew that dogs weren't particularly smart, but I didn't know that they were that stupid. You can always teach an old rabbit new tricks."
"Why don't old dogs like new tricks?" I asked.
"I have no idea, but it is an interesting piece of information," said the rabbit. "I'll have to remember that, assuming that it is correct."
"So tell me, why are these the best years of my life?"
"Because you virtually have nothing to distract you from your learning, and learning is one of the most gratifying things a person can do. When you stop learning, you stop growing."
"I saw a man at the circus one day. He was ten times bigger than me. Did he learn a lot?" I asked. "Have you ever been to a circus?"
"I don't mean grow physically. I mean, grow mentally, and no, I haven't been to a circus. There are two sides to everyone - there is their physical side and their mental side. Although you will grow physically, you will eventually stop, just as your parents have stopped growing. There is nothing you can do about that. However, you always have the opportunity to grow mentally - by how much is entirely up to you. While you have the opportunity, you should take full advantage of it because in later years, you may not have the opportunity that you have today. So when people say that these are the best years of your life, it is probably because they wished they had used their school days more wisely when they had the opportunity."
I'd rather be playing with the other kids, I thought. "Some of the older boys say that they are learnin' to read and write, and some of the real older ones say that they have lessons on history and science and stuff. I don't need to learn all that," I stated.
"Why not?" asked the rabbit.
"Who wants to know about some dead king or somebody?"
"I do," said the rabbit. "Tell me about this dead king."
"I don't know. I just heard."
"Oh!" said the rabbit, obviously disappointed.
"Why do I need to know all that stuff?"
"Because it is important," said the rabbit.
"Why?"
"Well, let us examine everything you will learn while you are at school, and you tell me how important it is. Do you remember how we agreed that you need to understand the basics?"
"I think so," I said, trying to remember.
"Good. You are at school to understand the basics of life such as - who you are, what you are, why you are, how you are, where you are, when you are, and which way you are going. We rabbits refer to it as the Seven Ws"
"But I know all that," I offered.
"You do?" said the rabbit, amazed.
"Yep!" I said proudly. "Who am I? - I'm me! What am I? - A man! I mean a boy, but I'm going to be a man one day. Why am I? - 'cause I just am! How am I? - I'm just fine, thank you very much! Where did I come from? - Home! When will I go? Soon! And which way will I go? - across the field and down the lane, the way I always go if I go that way.
"That's utterly and truly amazing," said the rabbit shaking his head in disbelief.
"And by the way, 'how' ain't a W word," I pointed out.
"It ends in a W," smiled the rabbit. "We cheated a little bit on that one."
"You mean like the Three Rs - Reading, Writing and Arithmetic and only one of 'em begins with an R."
"Something like that," confirmed the rabbit.
"Well, nobody had to teach me about the Seven Ws at school. I knew 'em all by myself," I said, returning to the subject at hand.
"That's really too bad," commented the rabbit, obviously disappointed.
"What's wrong with me knowin' stuff?" I asked, equally disappointed.
"No, I don't mean that," explained the rabbit. "I'm disappointed that your teacher just starts teaching you things without explaining the purpose behind it?"
"I might have missed that day. I didn't go to school one day 'cause I got chickenpox - or was it two days? I can't remember. Anyway, she may have told us then."
"Well, never mind," said the rabbit. "Even before we start the Seven Ws, we teach the baby rabbits the art of communication. For example, there is no point teaching a baby rabbit about foxes without teaching it how to recognise when a fox is on the prowl or teaching it how to warn other rabbits that a fox is nearby."
"They didn't teach us stuff like that," I stated. "They gave us brushes, paint and paper and told us to paint a house or a tree or something."
"They asked you paint a house or a tree, or they asked you to paint a picture of a house or of a tree?"
"It's the same difference," I pointed out.
"Don't contradict yourself. Now, which was it - paint a house or a tree, or paint a picture of a house or a picture of a tree?"
"If you're going to be picky - paint a picture."
"Then say so. Explaining what you are doing without being ambiguous is an important part of communication. Communication isn't a matter of spitting out some words and expecting people to put them in the right order and to make sense of what you are trying say."
"Nobody ain't complained so far," I defended.
"That's probably because people just gave up, but getting back to the subject - painting pictures is also a form of communication." said the rabbit. "By expressing your thoughts on paper, you are starting to communicate just like the cavemen used to do many years ago, but you'll learn all about them in your history lessons."
"Cavemen?"
"Yes, people who once lived in large man-sized warrens."
"People lived in warrens like this?"
"Yep! We aren't that much different, are we?"
"Wow!"
"What else do they teach you?" asked the rabbit.
"We do singing."
"Ah! Another basic form of communication," stated the rabbit. "Soon, the painting will transform into writing, and the singing will become talking."
"I already talk," I pointed out.
"You need practice and singing helps you to make what you say, interesting. Now that they have you expressing yourself literarily and verbally, what else do they teach you?"
"They used to teach us dumb nursery rhymes..." I answered.
"Excellent! The beginnings of poetry," interjected the rabbit.
"...and now they teach us dumb poems."
"Poems aren't dumb, They are the creative side of your language. They let you explore the many words and their meanings. This is exciting. I didn't know how much they taught you at school. They're probably teaching you to listen as well?"
"Nope," I answered.
"You don't listen?"
"I listen, but they don't teach us to listen."
"Do they ask you questions while they teach you?" asked the rabbit.
"Sometimes."
"Every time you are asked a question, you are learning to listen."
"I am?"
"Yes. Each time you answer a question correctly, you demonstrate that you had listened when you were being taught as well as listened to the question about what you were taught."
"I guess I must," I admitted, unaware of how much I was learning.
"So it seems that these early lessons at school are focused on teaching you basic communication skills. This is good because there is no point in you learning the fundamentals of calculus, for example, if you are so inept that you can't explain its significance."
"What's a...what you said?"
"Calculus? It's a mathematical discipline..."
"I don't like it when we do discipline..."
"You don't do discipline, and even so, this is not that type of discipline. You'll learn more about calculus as you get older. What is important is that you understand the basics of your education. You must be able to communicate the information that you learn."
"I don't think that they spend enough time teaching me to communicate," I said thoughtfully.
"That's too bad," said the rabbit. "No wonder you don't like school."
"It ain't so bad I suppose, especially when we play games. I like games."
"Games are all part of communication. We teach the baby rabbits to play games. That way, they feel comfortable around other rabbits and don't feel inhibited or afraid to share their ideas. What's the point in having a rabbit that devises that ultimate defence against farmers, foxes, and ferrets but hasn't the basic skills to inform or even explain it to anyone? If people ignore you because you fail to communicate, it really doesn't matter how brilliant you are - no one will ever get to know you, and this leads into that basic rule of life which I will tell you one day."
"Will you tell me that soon?" I asked.
"When you are ready," said the rabbit. "In the meantime, you need to understand the purpose of education."
"So what was all that other stuff you said I had to know. You know - who I was, what I was...""Oh yes - who you are, what you are, why you are, how you are, where you are, when you are here and which way you are going."
"Yes. Those!"
"The arts teach you who you are, science teaches you what you are, religion attempts to enlighten you as to why you are, games and physical activities teach you how you are, geography teaches you where you are, history teaches you when you are, and tests decide which way you are destined. And finally, mathematics helps you understand the meaning of it all."
"What's mathematics?"
"Arithmetic to you," said the rabbit.
"I don't like arithmetic."
"Why? Have you done any arithmetic at school?"
"No. We do sums instead and I don't like that, and I heard one of the older kids say he didn't like arithmetic."
"Arithmetic is fun, especially multiplication, and rabbits are good at multiplication. Boy, can we multiply!" The rabbit had a stupid look on his face.
"What's multiplication?" I asked.
"Multiplication? Oh yes!" The rabbit seemed to come out of his trance. "Can you count?"
"One, two, three, four..." I said
"How far can you count?" interrupted the rabbit.
"Ten, 'cause I got ten fingers."
"So, what is three times two?" asked the rabbit.
"I don't know."
"You haven't even tried."
"Try what? I don't even know what you're talking about."
"Count off two fingers."
I held up two fingers.
"Now count of two more."
I held up four fingers.
"Now, two more."
I held up another two, but I had to use my other hand.
"There you go - three times two. How many fingers have you got?"
"Ten!" I said, holding out all ten fingers.
"Perhaps multiplication is beyond you at this stage," said the rabbit. "Every time your teacher tells you something, think about what it is that he or she is telling you."
"She! My teacher is a lady. Is all this educating stuff making me intelligent do you think?"
"Never confuse education with intelligence."
"No?"
"No. Who is more intelligent - someone who doesn't know what a spanner is, but puts it to use by using it as a hammer, or someone who knows what it is, but doesn't know how to use it?"
I remembered my mum telling my dad to get a man to fix the kitchen tap because it was leaking. This man had a toolbox full of spanners. "Somebody who gets somebody else to use it," I answered. "That's what my dad does."
"Was that because your dad knew how to use a spanner but was too lazy to use it, or was it because he had better things to do with his life at that time?"
"I don't know. Lazy, I think. Because he then watched the man fix the tap for him," I answered.
"I see! And he didn't go and do anything else! It could be that your dad may have known how to use the spanner but didn't know how to apply that knowledge to fix the tap. Hopefully, he gained that knowledge by watching the man so that next time the tap leaks, he'll be able to do it himself."
"Um. Then in that case I think my dad might have been learnin'," I commented.
"Can you see that there are various levels of intelligence? Some intelligent people never have the opportunity to get an education. If they've never had the opportunity to see a nut and bolt, it's hard to imagine what a spanner could possibly be used for. Others, unfortunately, have too much of an opportunity and get educated beyond their intelligence."
"How do you manage to do that?" I asked.
"The farmer, or so we were told, had a dog that had been taught more ways to catch a rabbit than there are fleas on the back of a hedgehog."
"Sounds like a smart dog to me," I said. "Weren't you rabbits scared?"
"No. 'Stupid dog couldn't find a rabbit if you sat him right in the middle of a rabbit warren," explained the rabbit smiling. "That dog was definitely educated beyond its intelligence."
"It might have been an old dog that couldn't learn a new trick," I suggested.
"It could have been. I hadn't thought of that," mused the rabbit. "Or, he could have been a young dog that had been taught too many old tricks."
"How can that happen?" I asked.
"We all learn what we are taught. If this dog had been taught by someone who had antiquated ideas about how dogs should catch rabbits, then the dog may be well educated, but he's not going to catch too many rabbits, is he," stated the rabbit. "It's the same with you. If your teacher teaches you old ideas or methodologies, then you will practice these ideas."
"That ain't good," I stated. "How can the dog tell if he's being taught new stuff or not?"
"The true mark of intelligence is to seek out new ideas. You, as well as the dog, have to have the intelligence to keep an open mind. It's all too easy to assume that what you are being taught is correct or that it will be correct for all times. Make it a practice to listen, learn and investigate. Seek out new ideas. Remember – the main reason you are at school is to learn how to learn."
"That sounds complicated," I offered.
"Not really. Whenever you see something you don't understand, just ask yourself - why?"
"I do that all the time," I boasted.
"That's the first step," smiled the rabbit.
"You smiled! - So, what's the next step?"
"There is no one answer to life. The text step is is ask - why else?"
"What?" I asked, somewhat confused.
"Most people don't care - smart people ask why - but the true intellect always searches for alternative answer by asking - why else?"
"I think it's time for me to go home. I have some learning to do."
The rabbit called after me, "You can't teach experience. Often, the best teacher is yourself."
. . .