I am sitting on a cracked leather chair whose pea-green color has long ago faded to dirt-brown. The room is dark. The only light, a circular, copper hurricane lamp hangs suspended from the ceiling, and is positioned directly over a massive, oak desk. The room is more like a library than an office. My hair, now a buzz cut, my heavy new grey wool pants which itch like heck, and my deep blue military jacket, too tight in the chest, all serve as reminders that my life has radically changed. You see, I am a new Reserve Officer Training Corps cadet, living on the campus of Western Military Academy, near St. Louis. I am 15, one day into my junior year, and as a “new man,” I have been summoned to this office to meet with Colonel Chester Persing, the headmaster who will plan my academic future. As I sit nervously in the colonel’s office, I look up to see the overhead lamp emitting light beams, which, like miniature search lights, seek out and capture dust motes as they lazily drift down and fall on his desk.
“Cadet Elghammer, do you see these two books I am holding? Take this red one first,” as he hands it over to me and I scan the title, “Rhetoric for Freshman,” by David Spencer. Then he says, “Now, take this one,” as I scan the green book. “This red copy is the English book used at Yale, my alma mater. The green one is the English book used at the local junior college. As you can see, they are identical — so, what deductions can you make from this observation?”
For starters, I don’t know what deductions mean, but I dive in: “Well, since both texts are identical, except for the color of the jacket, I’d say it must be a good book — like a best seller?” His silence, now intimidating, causes my eyes to slide off his face and fall to the pile of books on the floor. Persing responded, “The quality of your education does not depend upon what school you attend or what textbooks you use. That means that a junior college can be just as good as Yale. You see, what matters is that you learn how to take 100% of the responsibility for your education. At this academy, we will show you how to do this and we will sharpen your skills in thinking, writing, and deductive reasoning.”
There was that deductive word again. Persing could see that I did not understand, so he handed me another book. “Here, read this and come back and see me.” The book, “The Hound of the Baskervilles,” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, was my first meeting with Sherlock Holmes.
So, it was with glee that I saw the movie, “Sherlock Holmes.” It brought back the basic skills I learned at military school, and my life-long attempt to become educated. These characteristics of Holmes are worth noting:
1. The ability to think, really think. Holmes starts out with an observation. Then, using a disciplined and powerful mind, he applies logic, deductive reasoning, and the scientific method, to come to a conclusion. All of this without a computer.
2. The love of knowledge. Holmes has a mind where vast treasures of data are stored. Knowledge in botany, geology, chemistry, anatomy, literature, law, weapons, to name a few. He believes that all knowledge is useful and valuable.
3. Multi-dimensional skills. Holmes possessed these skills -— violin playing, boxing, sword fighting, cryptanalyst (secret writing), martial arts, and the use of disguises.
So, what can we learn from Holmes? At a time in history when students are told that the only purpose of an education is a means to an end -— that is, getting a diploma solely to make money, it is refreshing and important to go back to the year 1887, when Sir Conan Doyle created the character of Holmes, who serves as a model for what learning, knowledge, and education are really about: The ability to think, to speak, to write, to cultivate a brilliant mind which then can be used as a moral force to better oneself, and society. That is, leave this world a little better off than it was, before you arrived ... It’s elementary, my dear Watson.
The content of this article is for educational purposes only, and should not be used as a substitute for treatment by a professional.
Dr. Richard Elghammer contributes his column each week to the Journal Review.
