Education learned while I ate

by Jessica Moskwa

"Revelation is but a beginning, our deeds must continue - our lives must complete it."

Abraham Joshua Heschel - Author, Teacher

My dad insists on cramming my inbox full of 139k items. These hefty e-mails are articles on every topic: Japanese literature, a creative fund manager, the diamond wars, Nobel laureates, eyebrow artists and advertising deals.

This overload of material only replaces the mornings in my kitchen when he would leave fat, stapled copies of endless information on our kitchen table, expecting me to read 2,400 words before breakfast. But his efforts at the start of the day were only fodder for the real showdown at my house. Amid broccoli and milk and please and thank-yous was, "What is your revelation for the day?"

Every night we ate together, my brother and I had to come up with an answer. By definition, a revelation is 'something revealed' and it was my father's mantra. At our table, a revelation could be anything: thoughts on friendship, the discovery of a new book, the fact that salt on a cocktail napkin will stop the glass from sticking or the realization that most songs on the radio aren't original material.

It had to be some stratum of new knowledge, something that changed how the world looked, something shocking, unexpected and new. Whatever our revelations were, and unbeknownst to us, they made our world grow and created a sense of wonder.

Since I've left that warm kitchen, the biggest revelation is how real and pertinent that method of examining the world is. I realized the value of revelations doesn't lie in new facts about indigenous peoples or how longitude was discovered, but in learning how to be aware of what happens around us. And isn't that what higher education is all about?

Learning how to be conscious of our observations and applying them to our lives is why we are here. The key is that most of these revelations happen outside the classroom. Sometimes it is the understanding we gain from failing at a foray into cooking a dinner, selling phones or Latin dancing.

We leave the experience with a greater understanding of people who do these things well. We understand their terminology, their style and their patience. Sometimes our friends' habits supply revelations; my roommates insist that ranch dressing goes with everything and that vacuuming daily is something we all should do. Sometimes a revelation is just observing the environment around us - awareness is a revelation in itself.

At my dinner table sat a tradition of give and take and a nightly ritual that expanded my world. The reams of articles on my breakfast table were an exchange of knowledge and a gift of experience and wisdom. They both were valuable practices.

Sprung from our revelation discussions is my belief in seeking out knowledge and looking at every situation for a fresh perspective. My dad believes "every person you talk to or listen to has the potential to reveal something about the world that you didn't know. When you begin to see these things, the world is truly a wonderful place."

Revelations open windows and studying them cultivates passion. Sharing our revelations with friends and family is what keeps the cycle of wonder going.

My final revelation? I have too many to count.

Jessica is a sophomore journalism major. Feel free to send her your revelations at jessmoskwa@hotmail.com.