





I don’t think I know, not really. But I don’t feel bad because I don’t think a lot of people who consider themselves experts do either. For example, one of the biggest cons in academia is that professors in business schools often get paid much more than their science and humanities counterparts on the presumption that they would go run businesses if they weren’t paid a higher salary than the others. Most of them would not. The idea that a thorough theoretical knowledge of the world of commerce and the operations of a corporation would translate into all the X-factors needed to head a company (e.g. charisma, risk-acceptance profile, creativity, and an internal emotional landscape that borders on [or is outright] psychopathic) seems laughable. If that’s the way the world worked a quartet of music professors would be outselling the Beatles and the ranks of Olympic gold medalists would be swollen with Kinesiology PhDs.
NOTE: I should explain the “psychopathy” crack. Many of us have quite enough angst from making decisions that seem to have the potential to ruin our own lives. Some can take a little more angst and are ok making decisions that might mess up not only their own lives, but also those of their children. It takes a special kind of reptilian-like nature (beneath the appearance of charm and polished interpersonal skills) to regularly make decisions that can screw up the lives of complete strangers by the hundreds or thousands.
Rangikura: Poems by Tayi TibbleA noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.