受教一时，受益一世

from nytimes.com 译/ 陈一苇

对于教育，英国政治家乔治·萨维尔曾下过这样的定义：“教育就是我们被灌输的知识忘光之后剩下的东西。”(Education is what remains when we have forgotten all that we have been taught.)的确，真正的教育不是死记硬背的书本知识，而是受益一生的智慧启发。寒窗苦读十数载，总有那么几次特殊的教育经历令我们感念一生。它或是教会了我们思考的方法，或是教会了我们做人的道理，又或是在我们脆弱之时为我们点起希望的火苗……

Saturday Morning at the Museum

By Michael Bloomberg, Mayor, New York City

When I was growing up, Saturday mornings meant one thing only to me: a trip to the Boston Museum of Science. I loved science—still do—and there was nowhere else Id rather be. The museums instructors would give these fascinating two-hour lectures and demonstrate the laws of physics using hands-on1) experiments. They would also quiz us on the museums exhibits, and all the kids would try to show off by having every answer. Those visits to the museum stretched my mind in ways that my schoolwork didnt. They taught me to listen, question, test and analyze. Figuring out how things work—and how they can work better—is what led me to become an engineer, a technology entrepreneur, a philanthropist and a mayor. I guess I can count my lucky stars that there were no Saturday morning cartoons when I was kid.

The Price of Fur in Byzantium2)

By Lewis Lapham, editor, Lahphams Quarterly

I dont now remember the name of the don3) assigned to conduct my first tutorial at Cambridge University in the autumn of 1956, but I remember the setting—late-afternoon fog, coals burning in an ancient grate4), the don in academic gown seated behind a silver tea service. Five months earlier I graduated from Yale University with the intention of becoming a licensed historian who could be counted upon to attach the name of a dead poet or an unhorsed5) king to the appropriate zeitgeist6).

My tutor was delighted to learn of my ambition. Great news, he said, but maybe you could spare a few moments for the 12th century? I managed to sustain the illusion of scholarship for about the length of time it takes to see five deals of blackjack7). When I exhausted my supply of talking points, the tutor poured us both a second cup of tea, and for the next quarter of an hour, he asked questions about aspects of the 12th century that I had possibly overlooked. In Byzantium, for instance, the prices bid and asked for Russian fur and Christian slaves?

My failure to hazard8) even so much as a plausible guess moved the don to a murmur of mild regret. Yes, well, he said, you Americans have this wonderful talent for broad statement and grand abstraction that hasnt been granted to their poorer cousins here in England. Before reaching the general theory, you see, we like to have in hand a passing9) acquaintance with at least some of the facts.

The Lifelong Incomplete

By Robert Storr, artist and critic

Back in the 1960s Bruno Bettelheim10) gave a talk to my senior class in high school. He explained that in prewar Vienna he studied several subjects in depth as a graduate student—chiefly art and philosophy—but each time stopped short of completing the final requirements because doing so would have decided his professional fate prematurely, given his many intense interests. (Hitler then prevented his receiving a doctorate in psychology, his ultimate field11).) He told us to beware of committing to anything until we knew for sure what we wanted to be, but recommended that we set out to become dedicated ABD (all-but-degree) students of everything that excited our minds. Biographers say that Bettelheim was a compulsive fabulist12), but I am grateful for his insight even if the story he told wasnt true. His example—fictional or real—was more useful to me than all the “practical” advice I was given.

In Mrs. Crowells Library

By Junot Diaz13), author

I remember her as a small woman. But what do I know? I was small myself. Shes in none of the official photographs I have from my elementary-school days, but in my memory, my first librarian is a gentle white woman who wore glasses and was exceedingly kind to this new immigrant. I do not remember her voice, but I do remember that every time I saw her, she called me to her desk and showed me with an almost conspiratorial14) glee a book she had picked out for me, a book I always read and often loved.

Every now and then you get lucky in your education and you make a teacher-friend; Mrs. Crowell was my first. By second grade she was allowing me to take out more books than the prescribed limit. By third grade I was granted admission to her librarians office. My love of books was born of hers. As a newcomer with almost no knowledge of the country which Id found myself in, I was desperate to understand where the hell I was, who I was. I sought those answers in books. It was in Mrs. Crowells library that I found my first harbor, my first truly safe place in the United States. I still feel a happy pulse15) every time I see a library. Im with Borges16) in imagining Paradise as “a kind of library” where instead of angels there will be a corps of excellent librarians.

Boarding-School Blues

By Pico Iyer, author

Older boys were allowed to beat younger ones at my 15th-century English boarding school, and every boy had to run a five-mile annual steeplechase17) through the sludge and rain of an October day, as horses do. We wrote poems in dead languages18) and recited the Lords Prayer in Latin every Sunday night. At my previous school, we had to race through cold showers every morning at dawn before a breakfast of lukewarm19) kippers20) or porridge. Fourteen of us, aged 9, shared a single damp chamber and, clutching teddy bears, thought of parents in faraway Hong Kong or Nairobi or (in my case) California. Well-meaning friends shudder when I recall my school days for them now; I glow nostalgically21). Forty years on, I see my relentless training in these ancient institutions (partly monastic22) and largely military) as the most benign influence in my life, and one of its happiest memories. The world is tough, the system was saying, and to find happiness in it you have to summon resilience, resolve and self-sufficiency. This is a process developed over centuries to teach you how to govern yourself and how, as the Buddhists say, to live joyfully in a world of sorrows.

Just Ask. Then Keep Asking.

By Lisa Randall, professor of physics, Harvard University

I was shy the way many geeky girls can be. Professors hardly noticed that they rarely answered girls questions before some boy who didnt actually know the answer interrupted. But a professor who later became my adviser gave me the best advice I ever received, which was to not be afraid to speak up and ask questions. Suddenly teachers were speaking directly to me, and my questions were usually good enough that I could detect the relief of other students who actually had the same ones, reassuring me I was doing the right thing. Now, as a professor, I know not to see classes as passive experiences. The occasional interruption keeps people engaged and illuminates subtle points, and in research even leads to new research directions. Just participating and questioning makes your mind work better. Dont you agree?

周六上午的博物馆之行

——纽约市市长迈克尔·彭博

小时候，每周六上午对于我而言仅仅意味着一件事：去波士顿科学博物馆。我喜欢科学——现在也是——我不愿待在别的地方。博物馆讲解员会讲两个小时精彩的课，并通过动手实验来演示物理定律。他们还会问我们与博物馆展品有关的问题，孩子们竞相回答每一个问题，以此向人炫耀。参观博物馆的那些经历以独特的方式拓展了我的思维，而这是学校布置给我的作业所做不到的。它们让我学会了聆听、提问、验证和分析。弄清事物如何运作的，以及如何更好地运作，这种行为方式引领我一路成长，先后成为工程师、科技企业家、慈善家，最后成为一个市长。我猜我之所以如此幸运，就是因为我的孩提时代每个星期六的上午都没有动画片可看。

拜占庭的毛皮价格

——《拉帕姆季刊》主编刘易斯·拉帕姆

1956年秋天，我就读剑桥大学，当时学校指派一名学监对我进行第一次课程辅导，学监姓甚名谁，我现在已经不记得了，但对那时的情景却记忆犹新：傍晚时分的雾，老式壁炉里燃烧的煤块，身穿学院袍端坐在一套银制茶具后的学监。