OC HIGH / STUDENT NEWS AND VIEWS : Life Experience Is Thorough Teacher

I found the old man sitting on the front porch, enjoying the whispering, cool breeze. Though there was much about him I did not know, I knew his experiences were many, for he often displayed a confident wisdom.

“Grandpa?” I asked. He turned and smiled his old, familiar smile: eyes crinkled in the corners, closed lips turned upward in the satisfaction that I had taken time to visit him.

“Yes, Hon’?”

“I’m having a really tough time right now. You know, making all these college decisions,” I said, seating myself on a chair beside him.

“I know. But I have confidence that you’ll make the right decisions,” he answered gently.

“But what if I don’t?”

“Then,” he said, easing into a more comfortable position, “then, you’ll just have to start over, or pick life up from wherever it fell.” I grew silent and watched the sun begin to slide toward the horizon.

“Grandpa, where did you go? After high school, I mean.” I knew he must have gone somewhere. Men that smart didn’t just get that way on their own. Grandpa closed his eyes for a moment and smiled to himself in memory.

“Hon’, I went to the school of hard knocks.”

“Why did you go there?” I wondered aloud.

“I couldn’t help it. It was a requirement to go in my day.”

“How was the academic program?”

“Well,” he said, cocking an eyebrow in thought, “as I remember it, this school was really into hands-on experience. Yup--that school always did things the most modern way. Let me tell you, their hands-on method really made you learn, though. You know, it was really easy to get accepted to the school, but it was trial-by-fire to stay there.”

“Did everybody make it through this school, though?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said. “Some people took the easy way out and just dropped out of school--and literally out of life. They were the ones who didn’t take the time to study their mistakes and to learn from them. Others just went plain nuts and forgot who they were, or why they were there. But many made it to graduation.”

“What happened to the people who graduated?”

Grandpa shifted again and nodded in speculation.

“I don’t know what happened to everybody , obviously. But those people I kept in touch with went on to be really happy. They were strong and confident. They knew themselves and understood others. Oh, and they helped out others who were still students. A lot of times, the students they helped were their own kids!” Grandpa gave a long, satisfying sigh.

“It was a hard school,” he said. “There was a lot of difficult homework. Sometimes we students could help each other figure it out. But other times, everyone was in the same confused rut and couldn’t get out! The teacher was relentless. The finals! Oh, the finals! But let me tell you, by the time we finished a lesson, we had really learned our stuff.”

The school sounded like quite an obstacle.

“Didn’t anything good ever happen there?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” And his face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. “I met your grandma there. I learned a lot about myself, too. Changed my whole outlook on life. I entered quite early--you can do that, you know, taking classes while you’re still in elementary school or high school. Anyway, since I started early, I got an extra-long education. And believe me--I use the skills I learned every day. I learned how to fend for myself! I also learned to appreciate what is good, and how to respect that goodness.”

“Do you regret going there? It sounds so difficult!”

“Not a bit. Not one bit. I am who I am today because I went. I’ve got a great family that came from a human life studies class. I appreciate music and the arts because of another class. I changed my major many times. From finance, to child rearing, to business, to survival skills.”

“Grandpa, did you get through school?” I asked.

“Sure did. No easy thing. But the alumni board still calls and gets me involved in little activities every so often. I try to avoid them as much as possible.”

I laughed. His familiar smile reappeared, breaking open with a chuckle. The sun was dipping low, and it was now a bright half-circle.

“So tell me,” I pressed. “Did you get your diploma?”

“Hon’,” he addressed me, and smiled lovingly. “You are my diploma.”

The sun disappeared, and Grandpa and I went inside to eat dinner together.