Where I Stand -- Brian Greenspun: Life's learning curve

Brian Greenspun is editor of the Las Vegas Sun

Editor's note: The files are full of Hank Greenspun's gems. My father wrote "Where I Stand" for almost 40 years, the first 20 of them devoted from time to time with the art of child raising. In today's world, where the emphasis on parental involvement in a child's schooling is ever more critical, the excuses for the lack of it abound. On the occasion of my sister Susan's foray into the brave new world of Las Vegas High School, my father wrote the following column on Sept. 11, 1960, about the challenges of fatherhood in the face of sophomoric reasoning.

The differences between the algebra of the 1960s and the computer wizardry of the 1990s may seem vast, but the message to both parents and students is the same. Hard work pays off and laziness pays little. One is the road to happiness and the other could be the road to nowhere. With the Las Vegas Sun Youth Forum coming up next week -- in which 850 of Clark County's best and brightest students participate -- I thought Hank's column devoted to parental involvement in a student's educational success would be appropriate. I hope every parent finds recognition in his words and each student finds direction in them, as well. It follows:

By Hank Greenspun

MY OLDEST DAUGHTER started Las Vegas High School a few days ago, which is a wondrous threshold for her and one more faltering step toward the exit for me.

It's not exactly the first year of high school -- a fact she continually drums into my rapidly aging brain -- for she has already completed the ninth grade of junior high school, which is the equivalent of the freshman year. She is now a sophomore, an estate that in the minds of sophomores few parents ever achieved.

It is true her questions are becoming exceedingly troublesome to answer, but I never was too smart in algebra and it's difficult to convince her that it is easy to forget in 30 years that which was hard to learn in six months.

There are other signs of a gulf developing -- a sort of unmeeting of the minds between the firstborn and her ancient dad. And only two days in high school have occasioned the rift.

I can still hold my own with her brothers and sister. First grade Danny is no problem. Compared to his drawing of a cow, I'm a Da Vinci. Janie's sixth grade spelling is still within my ability to correct. Brian's ninth grade math is recognizable but sophomore algebra relegates me to the ranks of ignorant, old fogeys adrift in a modern world.

There must be some method of bridging this chasm between my daughter and myself. I can understand her reason for brusquely informing me that any usefulness I might have been to her in the past is at an end. Surely a man of my years should have tried to keep up with a changing world and have some knowledge of problems that perplex a 14-year-old.

But though I understand her, she closes her mind to me. And at her age, the point is well taken for I, too, was a sophomore in the distant past and my father's ignorance also suddenly became apparent, increasing with each term in high school and continuing through college and law school.

It wasn't till my first try at the practical world that my father's wisdom returned and in proportions that practically astounded me.

While I was battling books, he fought realities, and while I was learning about the past, he had to keep abreast of the present.

The difference between 14 and 50 is easily computed with simple arithmetic, but try to measure the years in terms of innocence and experience -- the simplicity of youth and wisdom of age, the confidence of the young and the fears of the old.

It is a gulf and a deep one, which can only be bridged when the wonderland of youth is left and the long road for survival begins.

To impetuous youth, the old man is soon given up as a relic, but though he is deserted he in turn will never desert. He'll stick around and attempt to counsel and advise that algebra though the most important single factor in the life of a sophomore loses all significance in the junior year. And after graduation it may never again be heard of until the youth becomes a parent, who in turn is asked a question by an impulsive and self-confident sophomore.

But though algebra may be the most useless subject to a young lady with visions of great authorship, there is no greater mistake than skimping or neglecting it in the sophomore year. For it must be learned and the first lesson in school no matter how early the grade is that whatever you do must be done well.

Not only my daughter but whatever any high school student does in the way of honest concentrated study is done for themselves.

There is only one thing in the world that can improve young people and better their chances for the future, and that one thing is their own effort.

We all begin life with certain mental faculties, and with certain physical faculties. Their development or decay depends entirely on ourselves. And just as the school gymnasium develops the muscles, so does classroom algebra develop the mind.

The schoolroom is the brain's gymnasium.

The nation's greatest athletes are winning gold medals and fame at the Rome Olympic Games. It took much effort and harder work for these men and women to achieve their goal of representing the United States at the world's foremost athletic meet.

Merely working "fairly well" is not enough. A "C" average doesn't make an Olympic champion.

If you want to run a fast mile, you do not merely jog. You try every day to run the mile faster than you did the day before. And perhaps with honest concentrated effort, you too may represent the United States at an Olympic meet in years ahead.

Every subject taught in the freshman class at high school is preparation for the sophomore year. And each passing year of effort is training for college or higher education.

And though hard work and concentrated study may not make of every student the valedictorian of the graduating class -- for there can only be one -- it will certainly make it impossible for that student to be a failure.

That's all any of us should strive for. That is the wish of any parent for a darling daughter.

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