Let me start by asking you if you are interested enough in micropaleontology to pursue a college degree in the subject. What about animal cognition? Both studies have practical uses. Petroleum geologists use micropaleontology to find fossil fuels, and neuroscientists use animal cognition studies to reveal brain mechanisms related to behavior. So, would you enroll today to study either subject?
Are you more articulate when you explain why you like what you like than why you don’t like what you don’t like? Do you have “likes” that you can’t fully explain? Interests, also? Before you answer at length, consider briefly how you came to like or dislike or became interested, disinterested, or indifferent. What roles did your environment, family, friends, teachers, and experiences play? And what role did your talents play in shaping your interests and pursuits?
Too much to consider all at once, right? Everyone’s been influenced, and everyone settles into some set of likes and dislikes. I’m reminded here of a commercial I saw for Southern New Hampshire University in which the university’s president, appearing before a graduating class says, “Stand up if you are a first generation college student. Stand up if you are a mother; if you are actively deployed, a veteram, or in a military family....” I think his list is longer, covering just about every possible category of human. The pitch makes sense; he’s making a recruiting video. But then he says, “The world in which we live equally distributes talents, but it doesn’t always distribute opportunity.” What? Equal distribution of talent?
Am I missing something in recognizing that teams have first string players and second string players? That Usain Bolt ran faster than his competitors or that Pele outscored his? Is everyone in the Hall of Fame? Am I missing something in recognizing that audiences aren’t the people onstage performing? Or that the president is the only one standing behind the podium on graduation day?
Look, the guy is himself talented. According to the blurbs, he turned a sleepy little university of under 3,000 enrollees into one with over 100,000 online students. I know I probably could not accomplish that. But I still have to ask, “In what world did this Southern New Hampshire University guy grow up?” Does he really believe that “equal distribution of talent” stuff?
Our finite lives limit all we can develop and achieve. Even polymaths have their limitations.
Extraordinarily talented and accomplished people, polymaths like Leonardo da Vinci reveal that the world is one of unevenness in ability and interest. Da Vinci was painter, inventor, amateur geologist, anatomist, and engineer. Da Vinci was THE Renaissance Man. He’s the one type of person that the president of SNHU doesn’t mention. “Stand if you are a polymath, an extraordinary person with extraordinarily wide interests and accomplishments.” Leonardo would be the only one standing in that large group of graduating seniors.
In thinking about polymaths like Leonardo, I wonder where I went wrong. Could it be a matter of interests? I’ve tried, Lord, I’ve tried to be interested in everything. I just spent time reading through some papers published in Animal Cognition, hoping to pique my interest beyond a layman’s perspective. It was barely productive time. Not my cup of tea. I came away unenthused though I will still occasionally read through the journal. I’m not going to enroll in animal cognition studies at Southern New Hampshire University.* No, this isn’t some denigration of animal cognition scientists and their work. They’re adding to our picture of the world by telling us what animals are capable of doing, like using tools, and that gives us a broader picture of brains and behavior. So, though I am not interested in animal cognition, I see the benefit of its study. It reminds me that from Homo habilis on, we humans have deemed ourselves a bit better than the other Earth inhabitants, that in comparison with a pigeon, all of us are polymathic. “Look, Ugg, if you take stone and bang stone, you get sharp stone. Good for fileting. Pigeon can’t do that.”
What was I saying? Oh! Yes, animal cognition. In not being able to get interested in such a discipline, I realize my limitations are both attitudinal and intellectual and that there are literally hundreds of academic and scientific journals with information too complex, too specialized, or too, dare I reveal my ignorance by saying, boring for my tastes and talents. If I was bored when I read some of the articles on animal cognition, the ennui lay not with the articles’ authors as much as with me. Even if I could convince myself that animal cognition is important to my life, I probably lack the talent to pursue the field. I’m definitely not some Jane Goodall capable of patiently sitting and observing. I don’t even own a pet though Fluffy the Turtle, Fluffy the Snake, and Fluffy the Groundhog freely roam on my property. I have obsersed animals, of course, such as the cardinals who spend much of their spring attacking their own images reflected by the large windows in my house. But as for specializing in animal cognition, I just can’t continue to read about pigeons making choices or crows constructing tools. They make for a nice YouTube video, but if I’ve seen one such video, I’ve seen my fill.
Although polymaths have great intelligence, they also have great attitude. They don’t need to convince themselves that multiple topics are worth pursuing. They pursue as they come across something to pursue. Da Vinci, for example, realized that the fossil sea shells he saw high in the mountains meant that the mountains had been raised from the sea and not that Noah’s flood had emplaced them. Darwin drew a similar conclusion in the Andes. Polymaths are not only capable, they are also curious. How many people before Da Vinci and later Darwin, saw shells in the rocks and stopped to ponder and conclude? How many visitors to the Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida, stop to look at the tiny shells in the blocks of coquina that make up its walls and then surmise the stones’ origin? Polymaths look. Polymaths wonder and ponder. Polymaths pursue relentlessly to find an answer.
So, the lesson I learned from my perusal of articles in Animal Cognition is that I have, in spite of being interested in sundry topics, a rather limiting attitude that accompanies my limited talent. Sure, I picked up a few facts from the journal, but not much more than that which would make people flee from me during a party. “Geez. He just goes on and on about some Australian rat figuring out how to get food or about some social learning in gerbils.” See. Would you stick around for those tidbits of info? You would? Then you have more polymathic tendencies than I. You might be the next Da Vinci.
Southern New Hampshire University probably has multiple programs for you. Wave from the audience of graduating seniors as you stand during the next commercial shoot so I know who you are among the mothers, first generation college students, army personnel, veterans, first responders, seamstresses, poets, construction workers, and other sundry members of our species.
Now go back to answer those questions I posed at the beginning of this little essay.
*Let me say by way of footnote: You can picture me standing in the audience of Southern New Hampshire University’s graduation class as the president says, “Stand up if you are a retired professor who still hasn’t decided what to be when he grows up, but who is currently pursuing studies in animal cognition.”
Are you more articulate when you explain why you like what you like than why you don’t like what you don’t like? Do you have “likes” that you can’t fully explain? Interests, also? Before you answer at length, consider briefly how you came to like or dislike or became interested, disinterested, or indifferent. What roles did your environment, family, friends, teachers, and experiences play? And what role did your talents play in shaping your interests and pursuits?
Too much to consider all at once, right? Everyone’s been influenced, and everyone settles into some set of likes and dislikes. I’m reminded here of a commercial I saw for Southern New Hampshire University in which the university’s president, appearing before a graduating class says, “Stand up if you are a first generation college student. Stand up if you are a mother; if you are actively deployed, a veteram, or in a military family....” I think his list is longer, covering just about every possible category of human. The pitch makes sense; he’s making a recruiting video. But then he says, “The world in which we live equally distributes talents, but it doesn’t always distribute opportunity.” What? Equal distribution of talent?
Am I missing something in recognizing that teams have first string players and second string players? That Usain Bolt ran faster than his competitors or that Pele outscored his? Is everyone in the Hall of Fame? Am I missing something in recognizing that audiences aren’t the people onstage performing? Or that the president is the only one standing behind the podium on graduation day?
Look, the guy is himself talented. According to the blurbs, he turned a sleepy little university of under 3,000 enrollees into one with over 100,000 online students. I know I probably could not accomplish that. But I still have to ask, “In what world did this Southern New Hampshire University guy grow up?” Does he really believe that “equal distribution of talent” stuff?
Our finite lives limit all we can develop and achieve. Even polymaths have their limitations.
Extraordinarily talented and accomplished people, polymaths like Leonardo da Vinci reveal that the world is one of unevenness in ability and interest. Da Vinci was painter, inventor, amateur geologist, anatomist, and engineer. Da Vinci was THE Renaissance Man. He’s the one type of person that the president of SNHU doesn’t mention. “Stand if you are a polymath, an extraordinary person with extraordinarily wide interests and accomplishments.” Leonardo would be the only one standing in that large group of graduating seniors.
In thinking about polymaths like Leonardo, I wonder where I went wrong. Could it be a matter of interests? I’ve tried, Lord, I’ve tried to be interested in everything. I just spent time reading through some papers published in Animal Cognition, hoping to pique my interest beyond a layman’s perspective. It was barely productive time. Not my cup of tea. I came away unenthused though I will still occasionally read through the journal. I’m not going to enroll in animal cognition studies at Southern New Hampshire University.* No, this isn’t some denigration of animal cognition scientists and their work. They’re adding to our picture of the world by telling us what animals are capable of doing, like using tools, and that gives us a broader picture of brains and behavior. So, though I am not interested in animal cognition, I see the benefit of its study. It reminds me that from Homo habilis on, we humans have deemed ourselves a bit better than the other Earth inhabitants, that in comparison with a pigeon, all of us are polymathic. “Look, Ugg, if you take stone and bang stone, you get sharp stone. Good for fileting. Pigeon can’t do that.”
What was I saying? Oh! Yes, animal cognition. In not being able to get interested in such a discipline, I realize my limitations are both attitudinal and intellectual and that there are literally hundreds of academic and scientific journals with information too complex, too specialized, or too, dare I reveal my ignorance by saying, boring for my tastes and talents. If I was bored when I read some of the articles on animal cognition, the ennui lay not with the articles’ authors as much as with me. Even if I could convince myself that animal cognition is important to my life, I probably lack the talent to pursue the field. I’m definitely not some Jane Goodall capable of patiently sitting and observing. I don’t even own a pet though Fluffy the Turtle, Fluffy the Snake, and Fluffy the Groundhog freely roam on my property. I have obsersed animals, of course, such as the cardinals who spend much of their spring attacking their own images reflected by the large windows in my house. But as for specializing in animal cognition, I just can’t continue to read about pigeons making choices or crows constructing tools. They make for a nice YouTube video, but if I’ve seen one such video, I’ve seen my fill.
Although polymaths have great intelligence, they also have great attitude. They don’t need to convince themselves that multiple topics are worth pursuing. They pursue as they come across something to pursue. Da Vinci, for example, realized that the fossil sea shells he saw high in the mountains meant that the mountains had been raised from the sea and not that Noah’s flood had emplaced them. Darwin drew a similar conclusion in the Andes. Polymaths are not only capable, they are also curious. How many people before Da Vinci and later Darwin, saw shells in the rocks and stopped to ponder and conclude? How many visitors to the Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida, stop to look at the tiny shells in the blocks of coquina that make up its walls and then surmise the stones’ origin? Polymaths look. Polymaths wonder and ponder. Polymaths pursue relentlessly to find an answer.
So, the lesson I learned from my perusal of articles in Animal Cognition is that I have, in spite of being interested in sundry topics, a rather limiting attitude that accompanies my limited talent. Sure, I picked up a few facts from the journal, but not much more than that which would make people flee from me during a party. “Geez. He just goes on and on about some Australian rat figuring out how to get food or about some social learning in gerbils.” See. Would you stick around for those tidbits of info? You would? Then you have more polymathic tendencies than I. You might be the next Da Vinci.
Southern New Hampshire University probably has multiple programs for you. Wave from the audience of graduating seniors as you stand during the next commercial shoot so I know who you are among the mothers, first generation college students, army personnel, veterans, first responders, seamstresses, poets, construction workers, and other sundry members of our species.
Now go back to answer those questions I posed at the beginning of this little essay.
*Let me say by way of footnote: You can picture me standing in the audience of Southern New Hampshire University’s graduation class as the president says, “Stand up if you are a retired professor who still hasn’t decided what to be when he grows up, but who is currently pursuing studies in animal cognition.”
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