All year long I’ve been training hard for Friday, Sept. 28, 2012, like a marathoner prepping for a long-distance run.
I poured minutes of research into trying to track down the genius who came up with the phrase “civil war.” I wondered out loud if chickens ever ask why humans are still on the same side of the road. And one fateful evening I asked my wife what was for dinner -- mid-bite, halfway through the meal she’d cooked.
OK, I made up that last one. It would have been perfect for my purpose, but I admit I lacked the nerve.
The point is I’d been training for Friday with single-minded intent -- and not just because it was a holiday. What? You missed it? No problem. Just celebrate it a couple of days late.
Friday was National Ask a Stupid Question Day, and as secular holidays go, this one is among my favorites. It’s about the myth of the stupid question -- and ultimately about the mixed messages questions engender in a question-phobic society.As human beings, we’re addicted to asking questions. It’s hardwired in our brains. When small children acquire the power of language, virtually the first thing they do is to start test firing questions. They haven’t learned to worry yet about the quality of the questions they ask.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t take long. We humans also harbor a deep suspicion for questions. We worry that they might serve as evidence of our ignorance.
You encounter this as a journalist, which is a little like being an attorney. Questions are the common tools of our trades. And sometimes the question you already know the answers to is the best one to ask. That’s not always understood.
I remember doing an interview with a veteran of the civil rights movement, someone for whom I privately harbored a deep respect. I asked a question about the violence he’d encountered and was surprised when he flashed a look of contempt.
“You ought to know the answer to that," he said.
Answering questions is a noble pursuit, but asking them can be nobler. Some of our greatest historical figures are noted for answering questions with questions. The martyr philosopher Socrates did it so often that the practice took on his name.
Nor was the Socratic method just a Greek thing. There is a long, rich tradition for it in scholarly Jewish thought. Jesus’ story of the Good Samaritan was one famous example. More than just a parable, it was the beginning of a question -- which was the reply to a question replying to a question replying to a question.
Maybe we’ve lost patience for such intricate exchange, particularly where women and children are concerned. A friend of mine once told me that as a child, her teacher informed her that she asked too many questions. He established a daily quota, limiting the number she could ask.
Too many questions? How could there be such a thing?
I’ve often acknowledged that when my sons were children, they were responsible for half the columns I wrote. I didn’t hire them as ghost writers. I simply listened to the questions they asked.
Now my grandchildren, still in pre-school and elementary, are following the tradition. They want to know what black holes look like. They want to know why wars happen. They want to know why leaves die a colorful death while trees buck up and go on.
Their questions do more than challenge me. They leave me wondering about the cost of banishing them to silence.
A group of teachers wanted to know why as well. They had watched too many of their students sit in the back of the room, brains on fire with questions they couldn’t bring themselves to trust. What if the questions were stupid? What if someone laughed?
So the teachers played Hallmark, inventing a holiday for the purpose.
Interestingly, placing Ask a Stupid Question Day near the beginning of the school year. also put it near the height of campaign season. Who knows? Maybe it can reinvigorate the quality of political discourse.