Filtering

When I was a professor, a typical class size would be about 25. And in that class, there would be anywhere between 3 and 8 kids who were just plain wonderful students. They were smart. They cared about learning. They were interesting people to talk to after class as well.

Then there were the 17 to 22 others that weren’t so great. At the low end they were rather dumb and openly anti-intellectual. Typically, the worst were legacies or children of the super-wealthy who bought their way into school. Some had downright ugly personalities.

A big part of my job was to filter. I had to focus my attention on those three to eight great kids. They were there to learn. I was there to teach. Why should I care about the dimwits in the class who bought their way in? They could only bring me and the level of the class down. I worked hard to pretend they weren’t even there.

On good days I succeeded. On bad days I didn’t. Filtering is not one of my strengths.

I’m in NYC right now. It’s a noisy, messy place. At a subway stop, an absolutely adorable baby in a stroller started to wail as a subway train roared on by. His father covered his ears. That was the baby’s filter. Sometimes I wish I had someone to cover my ears and eyes.

There are some absolutely beautiful and wonderful things in NYC. I’m glad I’m here. On good hours, I can filter all of the junk out of my observations. On bad hours, all of the ugliness of the city comes to the fore. For me, filtering is a key aspect of my living well. I suspect that that’s true for just about everyone.