A500.2.3.RB_CavaliereMike
Comparing the lists of critical- and
non-critical thinking standards (Nosich, 2012, p. 153), I realize that I not only fall firmly on
the critical-thinking side, in terms of what values guide my life in certain
respects, but I actually have a gut-level aversion to the non-critical thinking
standards. Standards like "chic," "popular,"
"attention-getting" and "feels good" serve as a sort of
Bizarro World refection of how I see the world and what I value in myself and
other people. It couldn't be further from my truth.
As I reflect on those non-critical
thinking values, though --"fun, exciting, spontaneous" -- it isn't
lost on me how those qualities are often the ones most people value in their
friends and families. Who wants a friend who's hyper-organized and logical?
People don't put "I'm looking for a guy who's 'testable'" on their
online dating profiles.
But, obviously, these lists are not mutually
exclusive, and having a natural inclination toward one set of values doesn't
mean that a person possesses no qualities of the other. There's always bound to
be overlap, and that's a good thing. "Without critical thinking,
even loving can become caretaking and
co-dependence" (Nosich,
2012, p. 154).
So on that note -- although I'd like
to think that I prioritize fun, and it's hard to imagine I'd willingly take
grad classes on top of a full-time job if I didn't believe that it would
eventually benefit me, I recognize that the critical-thinking standards more
accurately define my personal set of priorities. Namely, my core standards
include "reliable," "reasonable," "well-organized,"
and "rational."
The acquisition of those standards
tracks back to my parents and the way I was raised. I remember them stressing,
even at an early age, the importance of following through, and putting forth
your best effort. I brought home a C on a test once, and I remember being
worried to tell them about it when I got home. When I finally gathered the
courage, though, and squeaked out the words, their answer surprised me.
"Did you do your
best?"
And I said, "Yes."
"Well, that's all we
ask."
It seems like a small moment, but
that line has always stuck with me, carrying with it the simple standard that
working hard, in itself, is its own reward. Try for a better grade next time. Get
organized. Make an effort. That's all we ask.
As I've gotten older, priorities
change and standards evolve. In high school, for instance, I remember it was
ultra-important to me to have strong principles and communicate them loudly,
and often. Today, I recognize that stage as a necessary part of my intellectual
and emotional growth. I was questioning the way the world works, as well as my
reactions to it, attempting to carve out an identity by firmly establishing the
boundaries of my belief system. As I grew, though, I realized that identity
isn't so cut and dry, and that it's important to question things and have
strong opinions, sure, but it's not so important to constantly verbalize
them.
Realizing that, and growing from a
high school/college kid into a 31-year-old man, has turned my arguably judgmental
instincts into much more benign self-reflection. I had always been a questioner,
but I learned over time to value rationality over hard-and-fast rules about how
people “should” conduct themselves. Now I look for motivations. I try to figure
people, and myself, out. That kind of openness to how complicated the world is has
made me more thoughtful, empathetic, productive, and — hopefully — a lot less
annoying.
References:
Nosich, G. M. (2012). Learning to
think things through: Critical thinking across the curriculum. (4th ed.).
Columbus, OH: Prentice Hall.
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