Going Over My Head

“That’s over my head!”

It comes up often when casual conversation turns to anything of substance. Not politics necessarily, but topics for which surface answers don’t come readily to mind. We’ve all said it — “That’s too deep for me,” or “It hurts my head.” Sometimes these remarks occur before anyone has even gone below the surface.

Last year, I led a small workshop on critical thinking for a handful of girls ages 10–13. At the end of our third and final meeting, I opened the floor for an “Ask Me Anything” Q&A session. I was expecting questions regarding any one of the mystery stories we had listened to, or perhaps, questions about knowing when your question is a good one. Not quite.

The first question came from an 11-year-old who asked:

“Do you have a dog?”

This was the one question whose answer, apparently, would resolve something for her about me. Or maybe she hoped I owned a dog (I didn’t) in order to start talking about hers. I was prepared to answer most other questions, but this one threw me into such a defensive posture that I felt the need to talk about how my daughters now had dogs. My response had that “Some of my best friends have dogs” ring to it.

We moved on. Another hand went up.

“Do you think that dogs can think?”

This may have been from a 10-year-old. A year or two difference in child development around those ages can be huge. The kids knew nothing of my personal background and interest in questions like this.

I lit up! I’m sure I included something like “I don’t know, but…” as an answer. I wanted to model the real point of the workshop — recognizing (and then acting upon) one’s own curiosity.

Hands began shooting up with more questions and ideas. Not a single child said,

“That’s too deep for me.”

This past year, I began participating in online discussions for the Thousand Brains Project. It’s folks with advanced degrees in neuroscience, computer science, and various blends of the two. They’re all raising their hands to ask,

“What is thinking and how does it work?”

Looking back on that workshop, that 10-year-old’s question about whether dogs can think may have nudged me to write — to ask my questions.

So, when did I become hesitant to raise my hand to ask a question, to publicly share my curiosity? It feels like it was a long time ago. But now I’m no longer afraid to peer into the deeper end of the pool, with others watching, knowing the water may be too deep for me.