I worked briefly as a stevedore at Port Newark when I was 19 years old. I got a nice offer to stay (25K per year plus wheels, not bad for 1978).

For a variety of reasons, I did not take it, but I stayed long enough to inhale a bit of asbestos, develop great biceps and pecs (now long gone), and receive a nugget of wisdom that has carried me far.

I was busy messing with some kind of doo-dad, getting frustrated, hammering uselessly on it, trying to make it work. It was hot, I was covered in hydraulic oil, and my ineptitude amused the more experienced workers.

One of the crane operators took pity on me and offered this advice:

If it don't fit, turn it over and try again.

Last night I had to re-seat a toilet, last week fix the hood latch on our '94 Caravan. In the past few months I've replaced drain pipes, fixed switches, cut down a tree, changed a couple of tires, built two platform beds, repaired a leaky gas line, replaced a mailbox post, and the few dozen or so other little things that don't require a whole lot of theory, but do require a little bit of thought.

Nothing in a fairly fancy educational background prepared me for any of that, except perhaps the shop class I took in 7th grade, back when schools still had them.

I spent a bucketload of time in schools, just a couple of months on the docks. And I got paid to be on the docks.

Excepting the asbestos still hanging in my alveoli, which serves me better at day to day tasks?

Not saying education isn't important, not saying that at all. Just reminding myself that my kids have several decades of life beyond school.