Project Vision 21

One time, while I was teaching an introductory philosophy course at a local university, a student taught me a valuable lesson. Although I no longer remember many details of that interaction, the lesson itself has stayed with me, and, in fact, I apply it every day. Even more, it is a lesson we all should learn and practice.

The class began at 9 a.m. on a Monday, an inconvenient time to teach philosophy. One day, the student in question arrived after the class had already started, looking half-asleep and dressed as though she had just come from a party. My impression was that this young woman had been out all night and had come directly to class from the party.

I suggested she leave the classroom, promising that I would personally provide her with the necessary information and assignments later. But she asked to stay, emphasizing that she wouldn’t disturb her classmates. As soon as the class ended, she came to my desk to talk.

By then, I had already prepared my entire speech in my mind. My strategy was to emphasize that, while attending parties was fine, she had a responsibility to moderate such activities so they wouldn’t interfere with her other commitments. I also planned to remind her of her responsibility to those (presumably her parents) who were paying for her education.

But before I could say anything, the student looked at me and said, “Professor, you don’t understand.” And she was right.

Many years ago, I learned that if someone tells me I don’t understand something, the chances that they are correct are exceedingly high. So, when I heard her words, I asked her to explain what I wasn’t understanding and why. What she shared took me completely by surprise; it was something I could never have imagined.

The student explained that she came from a certain Asian country and was the first in her family—and her entire small town—to travel abroad and attend university. However, her parents had imposed one condition: on the day of her hometown’s annual festival, she had to participate, dressed for the occasion and eating her country’s traditional foods.

To fulfill that promise, and due to the time difference (about 14 hours), she had stayed up all night, even preparing traditional dishes she needed to show her parents and relatives. When the celebration finally ended, she came to class.

Once again, I learned the lesson of not believing I have all the answers or assuming that my frame of reference is always the correct one for understanding a situation. Knowledge and wisdom emerge precisely from the ability to change perspectives.

When Socrates declared that he knew nothing, he was not admitting to mere ignorance but emphasizing the importance of remaining open to multiple perspectives. This profound insight, rooted in humility and intellectual flexibility, is a teaching that has sadly faded from relevance in our era when, as Father Richard Rohr once suggested, we have become addicted to our own ideas.