Opinion: Graduate's lesson: Never stop learning

The mere mention of students graduating brings to mind a memorable event, not about my graduation, but one close to the end of a prolonged educational experience. The lesson learned seems appropriate for people likewise at the end of such an experience.

The setting for the event was what I thought to be the final step in a long and arduous maze: the oral defense of my doctoral program. It was a scary situation – a committee made up of graduate professors, eagerly anticipating one last opportunity to take me to the academic woodshed. After spending most of my life chasing after one college degree or another, this was it: the final step.

Things were going pretty well. I had survived some tough barbs, none any worse than those previously tossed my way by the professors in classroom situations.

Just when I thought I was home free, a faculty member not on the committee stuck her head in the door and asked if she might come in for a while. “Grand” is the way I would describe her. She wasn’t on the committee because I had taken only a couple of courses from her. Early on, however, she had taken me under her wing. I so respected this brilliant, silver-haired lady.

Once seated, she listened to what must have sounded to her like inane questions from the committee and even more inane answers from me. She raised her hand and asked if she might ask a few questions. Of course, she could. This grand lady, in rapid-fire order, asked five questions that I had nary a notion of what the answer might be. In her defense, the subject matter of the questions sort of pertained to the courses I took from her. If she covered them in detail, I had no recollection of them. I felt like a pinball machine and the questions were like all five balls being played simultaneously, bouncing off the bumpers, with no points being rung up. I saw my life passing before my eyes.

I was in shock. The members of the committee were looking at their hands. She stood, and said to me, “Relax, you will get your degree. I just wanted you to realize, doctor, that you don’t know everything!” At the door, she turned and added, “Don’t embarrass my colleagues here by asking them the answers. They don’t know them either.”

I survived the remainder of the oral exam. None of us wanted any further discussion of things we may or may not have known. Not only do I remember the incident, but I shall never forget this dear lady, who has long since passed away. Once the shock had passed, I realized she had thrust herself into my life one last time as a mentor. The essence of the lesson was that I should never stop learning.

Whenever I see or hear of students at any level receiving diplomas, I wish this lovely, powerful lady could step forward and remind them, “You don’t know everything!” Never stop learning is sage advice, indeed.

What I would want graduates to realize is that learning can occur in or out of classrooms. In their lifetimes, much of what they learn may eventually become obsolete. The same may be true of today’s accepted schools of thought. Technology will change much of what today may be the proven methods of doing such things. The ever-revolving change brought about by computer technology and modern communication techniques will necessitate constant learning and relearning.

Even a cursory glance at the history of the last 50 years will reveal the fast-paced changes occurring in the lives of Americans and the rest of the world. A lot remains to be learned about who we are and how we fit into an ever-changing world environment.

Listen up, graduates: You don’t know everything!

Joe McAdoo is former chairman of the communication department at Drury University.