This post is not about God.  This post is about learning.   Part of learning is learning there are different perspectives on most topics. Maybe most importantly, this post is about not fearing learning about those different perspectives.  

Old dogs learn new tricks.   Perspectives can change.  I’m an old dog and recently I learned a new perspective on the idea of God. Not life changing. Not really even controversial. Just interesting to consider. 

Several years ago, Linda  convinced me to take lifelong learning classes through OLLI at the UMN. Pay the annual fee ($325) and take as many of the courses as you want for the next year.   There is a fall and spring session each with about a hundred different courses to choose from.  There is also a smaller summer session which has some tours and the like. 

Per the OLLI web page:  “The Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at the University of Minnesota (OLLI at the UMN) is a vibrant learning community for people aged 50+. Part of the College of Continuing and Professional Studies….”

I’ve taken twenty to thirty OLLI courses over the last five or so years on a wide variety of topics. Some very good, most pretty good and a couple were marginal.  All aimed for people over fifty. No tests, some reading for some courses, mostly a pleasant time learning new stuff with people my own age. 

So registration for classes in the Fall 2024 semester had come and gone. I missed the regular registration period. I was still recovering from my colon cancer surgery.  It’s more complicated than this; however, in summary, my bowel movements were frequent and unpredictable.  Not conducive to attending 1.5 hour long classes.  

Early September, about a week after the normal registration process ended, I had an appointment for a check-in with my surgeon. I whined about having to stay relatively close to a toilet.  He had a fix:  idmonium and psyllium.  Three days later I’m more or less regular. 

Call the OLLI office.  Yes I can still register but the selection is limited. One of the open classes was called “An Introduction to the Philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche”. I took the course. I’ve taken other philosophy classes over the years, so why not. On the negative side,  I knew nothing about Nietzsche, a German philosopher who lived during the second half of the eighteen hundreds. 

Understand, I am intellectually reasonably confident.  Not extremely confident but enough to give taking this philosophy class a try.  Here I am a couple months later.  Fall semester is over.  We met every Monday for seven weeks, each an 1.5 hours long.  Let’s just say I kept my mouth shut and just listened. I was humbled. 

The professor was Interesting, intelligent and a good communicator with relevant life experiences. This class was, in fact, over my head.  My fellow students were my age, friendly and reasonably funny.  However, here is the truth.  When my fellow students asked a question, most often they would refer to the writings of other philosophers and question the difference between the nuance of one philosopher to the nuance of Nietzsche.  Again, I was humbled. 

The instructor and my fellow students seemed to take this deep level of expertise on philosophers and their thoughts as normal and expected.  I’ve read and heard lectures on philosophy over the years but never at the depth and nuance that I experienced in this class. 

So we are in our third or fourth class, the instructor and my classmates are discussing Nietzlsche’s views on religion.   I’m summarizing here: Nietzsche writes that God is not alive or dead, because God never existed in the first place.  

The professor pointed out that if someone believes God was dead that implies that God was alive at some point.  It is like two sides of the same coin.  However, believing God never actually existed is a whole different thing.  

So my point here is not about God at all.  The point is taking a class on topics I might not normally engage with, exposed me to a different way to look at an issue.  Nietzsche believed in people behaving morally.  He just didn’t think someone had to believe in God in order to act in a moral manner.   

Whether some philosopher from 125 years ago believes God ever existed is kind of not the point.  The point, to me, was about  whether morality is directly tied to religious beliefs. Nietzsche said morality was not directly tied to belief in God. 

The cool thing about learning is quite often the topic being discussed is actually eye opening.  Most often, learning is about understanding there is more than one perspective on most any topic.  Learning is about not fearing to learn a different perspective.  

I also took a class called “The music of the Beatles”.  Learning more about the Beatles was fun.  Did you know the Beatles first Album, “Please, Please Me” was recorded in one eight hour session.  They were a very popular club band and for the first album they recorded the most popular songs from their playlist from the gigs at the clubs they were playing.   

There are OLLI classes on all sorts of topics, art, history, science, pop culture, and many more. About a third of the classes are online.  It is a very friendly and welcoming atmosphere.  Pretty much everyone, even in the online classes,  are there because they want to interact with others and in the process learn some new things.  

One last thing.  There are regular college students on campus doing things that college students do, like walking to class, talking to each other and studying.  It is kind of cool to say,  “Last week, when I was on campus….”

The closer you look the more you see.

In fifth grade, every student in my class got to be class president for a week.  Class presidents took attendance, made any announcements and I don’t remember what else.  It was a great honor. 

At the end of each week, the teacher would pick the student to be the class president for the next week.  The “goodie-two-shoes” kids got picked first, and then, progressively the less “goodie-two-shoes” kids got their turn.  

I was the least “goodie-two-shoes” kid and as such I was picked last.  The last week of the school year was three days long. My class presidency was revoked about five minutes after it started. You’ll have to wait towards the end of the story to learn why.  

Suspense is a good story writing tool, or so I’ve heard.

In hindsight, my teacher did not hate me, frustrated is probably a better word for how he felt.  Probably, he saw potential but he thought I was also a wise ass runt who wasn’t even trying.  

Failing fifth grade was often threatened, however, in my mind, I never felt I was actually going to be held back.  Two years later a teacher figured out I was functioning illiterate, not able to read very well.  My behavior in fifth grade was a symptom of an as yet, undiagnosed issue.  

However, back in fifth grade, I got along well with my fellow students.  I was a wise ass punk, whose wise ass remarks were, mostly, both insightful and a bit funny, not mean. I never intentionally disrupted the class.  It just never occurred to me that others didn’t want my opinion whenever I wanted to give it.   

Also know I was not picking on a defenseless teacher. Except for me, he had control of the class.  He was, I think, generally a good, well liked teacher.  He taught and kids learned. Most kids liked him. 

Also know that he hit me hard on the shoulder a couple times during the year.  Back then teachers were allowed to hit wise ass kids.   Yes he hit hard, however, I knew he was just trying to emphasize the point, he was leading the class, not me.  

Besides raising his voice at me several times a week, he only sent me to the principal’s office a half dozen times during the school year.  The first couple of times he was “red faced angry”, after that he sent me before he got that angry. 

Please note the first time I was sent to the principal’s office for disciplinary reasons was four years earlier, in second grade.  My third and fourth year teachers had both sent me to the principal’s office also.   By fifth grade, the principal was not shocked I had been sent to him. 

For me, being sent to the principal’s office was not scary.  The  principal would ask what I did.  I’d tell him.  He would say, it would be better if I was not such a smart ass.  The threat of being sent to the principal’s office is worse than the reality of being there. 

Early in the year my teacher would ask me to defend my comments.  Those reading this probably know I can, in most cases, defend my comments. Sometimes what I say might be a bunch of B.S. but I rarely am at a loss for words. Didn’t take long for the teacher to learn to not engage in a battle of wits with me.  

I was reasonably good at getting answers in math, the problem was they wanted me to show my work.  I don’t do math like that, it’s too slow. Yes, I can add even big numbers in my head, can’t you?  

In fifth grade, I would come in last in the weekly spelling contests.  Every week I was told I didn’t try hard enough. It never occurred to the teacher that poor spelling was a symptom of illiteracy, not necessarily of laziness. 

Every week, he meanly, loudly, announced to class that I had, once again, come in last in the spelling contest.  Shame can make you shy or as in my case, it made me even more of a smart ass.  

At the parent/teacher conference he told my mom I was misbehaving.  She told me I should not be disruptive.  Mom never expected me to excel. 

So here is the story of my short lived class presidency. First you’ve got to understand that while I was a jerk to my teacher, most of my fellow students liked me. Not because I was a wise ass but rather because I tried hard to not be a jerk. 

So on the Monday morning of the start of my presidency, before class began, I convinced about ten of my fellow students to follow my lead.  

It was a Monday but also the third to last day of the year.  I stood up like a class president does,  walked to the front of the class and said something really close to the following:

“Good morning, it is a beautiful day today, it would be a shame to waste it in a classroom. So, as my first official action as class president, I’m announcing that class is dismissed to the playground for a game of kickball. “

With that about a dozen kids stood up and headed for the door.  Our teacher was not amused.  He shouted for everyone to go back to their seats except me, because I was to report to the principal.  

For the record, even the principal thought it was funny. 

The closer you look the more you see.