Information: Quality vs. Quantity

I started thinking about this after something happened again, maybe for the hundredth time. I teach in a public school, and it's starting to be a trend. "Mr. Parsons," someone asks, "what is..?" The question can be anything. I prepare an answer, not as a peer across a lunch table, but as an educator. I want her to know not only "what?" but "why?" Mid-answer, she has turned away, is ignoring me, and maybe is even speaking to someone else now.

The first time it happened, I wrote it off as mere rudeness. Her upbringing lacked something, I supposed. It was too bad; she was really a nice person. This year, I've seen it happen over and over, and now I think I know why. They have been conditioned to be this way.

I don't mean "rude." They have been conditioned to gather information in this manner. I was from another generation. We wanted to learn, and there was always the understanding that those who were furnishing the learning not only knew the answers, but also knew how to supply the answers. In effect, our teachers had at least a partial control of our learning process.

The current generation has been brought up on sound bites. Whether it was the highly entertaining Bill Nye, the "Science Guy," or the quick, MTV-style changes in subject, their attention spans have been trained to make hairpin turns and stop on a dime. Now, they have phones -- smart phones -- and they don't like waiting for information. There is a sense of entitlement to that information: "I want it now. I want exactly what I have asked for; nothing more, nothing less."

When I was in the fifth grade we had a classroom set of World Books at the back of the room. Though they were missing the two most recent presidents, they were full of information. We were expected to use them as we wrote our "reports." Often, I would get distracted and stop at, say, "whales" on my way to "Whitman." I wanted to learn, and I liked the way that World Book not only supplied the information, but supplied more than I had realized I wanted to know.

One day, I had finished my classroom work, and decided to pass the time as other fifth graders finished theirs. I went to the encyclopedias and picked out the nice, juicy "M," which was one of the biggest of the encyclopedias. I began to leaf through it, reading enthusiastically as I went. When my teacher discovered what I was doing, she asked why I had an encyclopedia, since we were not currently writing reports. I told her I was just reading it. I still remember her words: "Encyclopedias are for research; they are not for reading! Put that back now!"

Years later I would enjoy the set we had as our children were growing up. I would watch my children do just what I had done: pick out a nice volume, and start reading through it. They were sponges wanting to absorb learning; why would I want to stop that?

A week or so ago I learned that Encyclopedia Britannica has ceased production of its hard copies, opting for internet only. While I understand their reasoning, I lament the decision. They are a fine encyclopedia, one of the best. They offered their online site free for a short while. I had access to the abundant knowledge, constantly updated, but there is no