Last
summer my husband and daughter attended a science conference at Berkeley
University in California. I went along to enjoy San Francisco with them in the
evenings and wandered about by myself during the day when they were in classes.
The first day I stopped by the university library to see if they had any books
on the colony of New Netherland - my favorite place in history. As I checked
the computer catalog I realized the library had 932 books about it; more than I
had ever had access to. I quickly wrote down several call numbers and eagerly
went to find some new information. To my bitter disappointment, nearly all of
the books I wanted to research were in a place called "The Stacks"
and were only accessible to Berkeley students and non-students who were doing
research. Since I fell into the second category, I went back to the main desk
and found that I needed to be interviewed to have access to these books. After
two interviews I received a guest card and was granted access to the protected
section of the library. I immediately found the first several books on my list
and immersed myself in New Netherland.
I devoted
each morning to the library that week to learn more about New Netherland. I
spent my first hour, each day in the reading room of the main library and then
descended the spiral staircase; to go four stories underground and devour any
information I could find about New Netherland. I soon recognized this building,
the main library, to be a place that reverenced learning. Upon entering the
oversized, ornate doors, the halls were adorned with marble floors, pillars and
display cases. These glass cabinets were filled with old books and journals
that related to various topics; all opened up for examination by anyone who
wanted to stop and examine them. After
passing the display cases, I ascended the wide marble staircase to the reading
room each morning to organize my thoughts and review what I had learned the day
before in “The Stacks.” I absolutely loved the reading room and always spent the
first several minutes just sitting at a table and looking around. This room was
unquestionably a place of learning. The walls were filled with books in heavy
wooden bookcases. The long tables and heavy chairs were also made of solid
wood. The high ceiling was arched and decorated with ornate designs that were
painted and carved into the wood. Each end of the arched room was made of
glass, oversized windows that welcomed the sunlight in each morning and opened
the mind up and learn everything it possibly could.
Not all
places of learning are this obvious. I recently read an article about the
brilliant scientist, Jane Goodall. She is known for her tireless work with
chimpanzees but I found that she has other interest also. When she was a young
girl, Jane had an insatiable interest in plants. She studied what leaves do,
how seeds are transferred and what environments they grow in. Goodall's place
of learning about plants was on a large branch of a favorite beech tree in her
yard. She spent hours reading, drawing and writing about the world of plants
while perched in her tree. Before ascending the tree each day, she filled a
small basket that was attached to a long string, with "a book, a saved
piece of cake, and some homework" (Smithsonian, March 2013, p 75). As a
12-year-old girl, Goodall filled each page of her "nature notebook"
with observations and drawings about plants simply because she loved learning
about plants; not because it was an assignment she was obligated to do. The learning
she acquired while sitting in her beech tree - her place of learning - has
remained an important part of her life. During her years in the jungles
studying chimpanzees, she simultaneously paid attention to the plants around
her. Jane recently wrote a book, Seeds of
Hope. The basis of this book began in the branches of a tree - Goodall's
place of learning.
The
scientist Charles Darwin also had a place of learning where he spent his time
studying. Although he gathered a great deal of information during his voyage on
the HMS Beagle and began to formulate some ideas about the workings of natural
selection, it was at his own home, fifteen miles outside of London, where he
spent time pondering, experimenting and learning. Down House, on its twenty
acres, was a place of learning for Charles, his wife Emma, and their children.
Their home was organized with daily routines that made it run like clockwork.
"Yet it was also a liberal house, always slightly untidy, muddied from the
passing of children and their dogs and cluttered with the saucers and jars of
perpetual natural history experiments" (Smithsonian, February 2013, p 62).
Darwin's home was his place of learning and a remarkable feature was that he
invited his children to help oversee his experiments. As his children fully
participated in Darwin’s experiments, their home
became a place of learning for them as well. At Down House, most surfaces were
covered with books, bottles and microscopes-there was something to be
observed and learned at every corner.
Darwin
was particularly interested in barnacles, carnivorous plants, bees, and worms.
His curiosity of the natural world carried over to his children who were always
willing assistants for his experiments. As soon as they were old enough, they
were recruited to "observe seeds growing on saucers arranged in window
sills, or to play music to worms, or to follow and map the flight path of the
honeybees across the Down House gardens" (Smithsonian, February 2013, p
65). What a delightful place for learning to occur!
These three
places of learning are only the beginning. Our own places of learning are all
unique, and no matter where they are found, we can gain infinite information as
we ponder and study topics we desire to learn more about. Mahatma Gandi
suggested to, "Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were
to live forever.” If we will carry this
attitude with us to our own personal libraries, beech trees, and homes, we will
achieve a love of learning that will last us our entire lifetime; and in the
end, we will have enjoyed the world a bit more because of the understanding we
have gained, and can leave behind the gift of increased knowledge to those who
follow after us.
-------------
Smithsonian
Magazine, "Darwin in the House," February 2013, pages 60-67.
Smithsonian
Magazine, "The Roots of a Naturalist," March 2013, pages 75-79.
