Junior and senior year of high school mark a pivotal point for many students — AP exams and college preparation, getting a driver’s license, on the cusp of legally being considered an adult, good ol’ teen drama, and so forth. On the transition to adulthood one of the topics of discussion is about the college-to-career process. It’s the question kids have been asked their whole life, “What are you going to be when you grow up?” that seems to need to be answered. However, the question morphs into “What are you going to major in?”. And this begins a weird pigeonholing process of what one can and can’t do.

What’s Your Major?

“What are you going to be when you grow up?” turns into “What’s your major?” once the high-schooler has become a college student. And with a choice of major, there come degree requirements which mean course requirements. Often, there is enough wiggle room to allow the student to take some elective courses, but for the most part, the degree path determines the bulk of what a student will learn. To some extent this makes sense; this is a focused study, no time for distractions!

English majors likely won’t take Abstract Algebra. Math majors likely won’t have to take a course in, say, early 20th Century British literature, unless if they were going to read Hardy’s Apology.

Over the years and through the woods of course curriculum, the long-awaited moment of graduation arrives. And with great fanfare, hats are thrown in the air, a piece of paper is received, and the next stage of life has begun — get that job or go to graduate school!

Armed with a college degree a focused job search or graduate program begins. For some there is great reward, for others it’s the beginning of the end — four or more years down the drain and $100000+ of debt that can’t be magicked away by a bankruptcy filing means slaving away in whatever 9 foot by 9 foot work environment will pay to make ends meet.

What’s actually curious and interesting are the mental limits people end up putting on themselves probably because of their major. I have a degree in English, I can’t be a programmer. I have a degree in Computer Science, I can’t do interior design. Obviously, not everyone thinks like this and odds are those who do, likely mean to say that it’s inefficient to do something outside of one’s major choice (and degree). Inefficient by what metric, though? My guess is that it’s inefficient by the “sunk cost” metric or the “stay the course” metric.

Where this ramble of mine will now take a turn is about a life-changing counterexample. Since this is 2015, we know there is a DeLorean somewhere. So let’s hop into the way-back machine and let me take you to my high school Calculus class.

Engulus

I will admit that some part of me was beginning to believe the generally global narrative of “I am my profession”. For a longer ramble on this, see I Am A Mathematician. The discipline-based segregation had already begun to take form even in high school, despite the school’s focus on interdisciplinary coursework. There were the Biology kids. There were the Math kids. There were the Drama kids. There were the A/V lab kids. Every now and again there would be some overlap, but people had begun to find their niche.

To learn about Biology we took Biology courses with Dr. B. Our English courses were with Dr. E, math with Dr. M, Chemistry with Dr. C, Physics with Dr. P and so on (obviously, I’m not using their real names). They were experts in their field, that’s what they did. The simple truth was that I just didn’t know who they were outside of their professional persona. All I understood, maybe not consciously, was “you go to the physicist to learn about physics”.

Then a funny thing happened in my Calculus class one day — our English professor was sitting in on it, taking notes. I remember being confused — it was a weird cognitive dissonance: He’s an English professor. What’s he doing in a Math class? Word got out that Dr. E was learning Calculus. But he’s an English professor. Why is he learning Calculus?

It was during those Calculus classes where I saw Dr. E show up, sit down, and begin taking notes that subtly, but irreversibly shaped my view on learning. Just being witness to that stereotype-breaking behavior made me realize that there’s a difference between what I do professionally and what I learn personally. I can learn anything I want and my degree or profession is not a limiting factor.

Dr. E’s pursuit was the most profound for me because it closed what was a huge gap (in my mind) between English and Mathematics. But many other educators in my high school were multidimensional. Dr. M went from Mathematics to Computer Science pretty seamlessly and was / is a brilliant wordsmither to the point that he had crossword duels with one of the other English professors (sorry, stereotypes, but that’s how things were associated in my mind as a kid). One of our Biology professors was in ridiculously good shape — it was rumored he modeled part time. Our History teacher also pressed 320 lbs or something out of control and was our lacrosse coach. Our Physics professor was a good chess player (and it was a triumphant day when I finally won a game). And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. These folks had probably far more depth of character, ability, knowledge, etc. than I (we students) saw. But the few extra dimensional things I did see kept me from pigeonholing myself about what I could and couldn’t do.

I should also mention my mother as well — a teacher by profession, as well, but an unnoticed genius, she’s capable of learning practically anything. Ironically, I came to only understand this about a decade ago.

It’s a funny thing, teaching is — a simple act of demonstrating learning outside of the “norm” made more of an impact on my education, life, and overall happiness than all the attempts at engagement and hands-on-ness through projects and field trips could have. I don’t know where Dr. E’s Calculus journey took him, but it’s taken me to Electrical Engineering, Finance, Mathematics, Computer Science, Drawing, Education, Piano, Singing (though I won’t be doing karaoke any time soon), Crocheting, and Writing, to name a few.

What if more teachers showed how multi-faceted they really are? What if they started the new school year / semester with an announcement of something they don’t know and proceeded to demonstrate the learning process? Could we have more engaged students if we, as educators, demonstrated our engagement with learning? Just some romantic what-ifs …