This I Never Do

So I’m sitting on the bus right now, writing this as I head to school after a really fun (for me, anyway) session of doing philosophy with the students at Lake Washington Girls Middle School.

At one time, I had planned that this would be my usual habit: working up 327 Words on the (bus, not bike) ride out to Bothell; I’ve never done it, though, and at the moment, I see (at least in part) why.

There’s something just a bit too nerdy, even for me, in being one of those guys with his laptop out in public. I can’t help feeling like I must feel like someone who’s so full of himself that he has to take care of “important” business all the time. Like I’m on the fast track man; I’ve got no time for down time, even on the road.

I don’t really even like writing in a journal around strangers; I’m sure they think I think I’m some kind of fast-track no-downtime poet.

Bertrand Russell wrote an essay I’m fond of called “In Praise of Idleness.” In it he wondered why people who work hard and save their money are considered morally superior to those who play hard and spend theirs when the latter, after all, do a much better job of spreading joy and stimulating the economy.

And I concur. There’s entirely too much value placed on productive labor and identifiable outcomes and not nearly enough on activities that are relaxing and fun and whose point may not be absolutely clear.

For me, doing philosophy with kids, though, is in many ways the best of both worlds. It arguably is worthwhile productive work, but it’s also lots of fun (again, for me, anway)—and certainly what it intends to accomplish is somewhat murky.

At any rate, it’s a more civically-engaged use of my time than writing this blog; too bad I can’t figure out how to do P4C on the bus.