When I was young, among the countless words of wisdom he used to dispense, my father could frequently be heard saying, “If you’re not careful, you might just learn something.” He was a high school English Literature and Communications teacher and was fond of cheerfully encouraging others to, in his words, “apply” themselves in whatever they found interesting. He also taught drama, which may account for the certain flair found within a great number of the nuggets of knowledge he circulated, both at school and home. Circumstances being what they were ? a small town with only one public high school - my sister and I both had our father as a teacher before our graduations. I got a kick out of calling him “Mr. Rylander.”
My father’s retired now, having bought a tattered, broke-down house several years back on a piece of quiet property in the country. He’s good with his hands and is rebuilding the place essentially from scratch. Though the carpentry, plumbing, electrical and stonework are quite time-consuming and labor-intensive, he’s done nearly all of it by himself, learning what he needs to accomplish each task. People ask him when he’s ever going to finish, passing references to the Winchester Mansion (a sprawling, gargantuan California estate built over the course of thirty-odd years by the weapons heiress whom many assumed was utterly out of her mind). However, I recognize his work for what it is: it’s become his hobby.
My hobby this past year has been metal fabrication. It seems I too enjoy working with my hands, and I’ve always wanted to learn how to build motorcycles. They say that you can only do five things to metal in the fabrication process: cut it, bend it, stretch it, shrink it, and join (weld) it. Hiro-san, the man whose shop I’m learning at, taught himself how to fabricate in his younger years, and though he would deny it is an entirely capable teacher. His method of instruction is simple: with the assistance of simple directions and encouragement, anyone with enough time, patience and determination will learn. And though I am still very much the novice fabricator (especially when it comes to welding), this last year I have to admit that I’ve improved. After fifty-some hours, I was even able to make this seat, sliced from a common piece of sheet metal.
If asked twenty years ago whether I predicted I would turn out like my father, I probably would have baulked at the idea. But I do have to admit that he and I are much the same in many ways. Our occupations are the same, as well as our joy of handcrafted work. We have a good relationship and I look forward to spending my summers helping him build his house. This past vacation, it came to me that he had put in approximately 40 years teaching at the high school before deciding to retire. I asked him why he waited so long. He said that what it boiled down to was really quite simple: every year he learned just as much if not more from his students than they did from him. And it was that reciprocal relationship which made heading back to new classes each academic year motivating.
Thinking back to my short time here at KGU, it actually surprises me just how much I’ve had the pleasure of learning from my students. From discussions in literature classes to commentary on Japanese history to present-day world news, the topics that pop up each day offer ample opportunities for me to understand something more from my students. The way I see it, if I can keep up this attitude of not being careful, who knows what I might learn this coming year.