I’m sometimes overcome by all that I don’t know. When I was young, I thought becoming an adult would open up the world to me, that I would understand all the things that puzzled me and that I would have the freedom to do whatever I wanted. The internet plays into this idea; with one Google search provides an answer to a question, one video resolves a project. But while that is possible, it provides only superficial results. Understanding takes work.
In the field of historical study, you can lay claim to a tiny slice of things. You can become increasingly familiar with one time period in one area of the world and then extrapolate with increasing unfamiliarity into other time periods, other areas. University gives you tools and confidence if that’s what you want to do.
Do you know what I like? I like getting an assignment, or giving myself an assignment on a subject that is unfamiliar. It’s like parachuting into new territory, running reconnaissance, and trying not to be too awkward about getting to know the area, the features and the people. It’s thrilling, as I imagine domesticating an animal is thrilling, or spending a few months in another country is thrilling. Nonetheless, it takes time and patience. Historical research takes months. It requires sleuth-like pursuit of sources, from books down to private archives. After a period of time, a picture starts to emerge and puzzle pieces connect and you can present a narrative where there wasn’t one before. I am thrilled that this is the work I get to do in my studies.
I don’t know how to sew. I also don’t know how to swim. Sewing is something I might have learned at home, in an earlier era, and swimming I might have learned were Saskatoon not a desert-like place. A friend of mine, optimistic like myself, undaunted by choice and consequence and a realistic evaluation of time, might say, “you can still learn!” because catching up is always possible, and the news regularly runs stories of people who do things like run marathons into their eighties. And sure, I could. I could decide tomorrow to join a swimming class. I could decide next week to get a sewing machine. But I won’t. I won’t because tomorrow, it will be a gift enough to be able to write a new essay. I won’t be getting a sewing machine next week, because it will be, like this week, a good thing just to manage the meals cheerfully, just to provide home-made cookies as a snack.