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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