The concept of “teachable moments” was popularized in the early 1950s in a book on education theory. (I’m sure DeVos has read it.) Fundamentally, it posits that when the timing is right, learning will be possible – or at least easier. It seems the opposite is also important; unless the timing is opportune, learning will not occur – or will be difficult. (That must be why I hated those Saturday morning classes in college.) It inherently carries the connotation of righting a wrong; that is, using a negative experience or outcome as the catalyst to teach an alternative approach.

I’ve unknowingly been applying that concept for most of my adult life; I often consider timing as a critical factor in how I respond to people or incidents. Discipline is a simple (and almost universal) example; the popular belief is it should be immediate so as to connect the consequence with the undesirable action. That may be fine for toddlers and pre-teens; I’d argue it can backfire for older kids. More complex examples include peer relationships or work situations; calling someone out for their mistakes can often be deferred to a more private moment. My personal struggle is one of recognizing intent; am I really looking for that perfect moment? Or am I simply avoiding confrontation because I generally don’t enjoy it? Since deferring until some unknowable opportune moment often means never addressing the issue, I’ll have to admit to occasional use of the concept as an excuse.

It’s difficult these days to avoid confrontation; the rapid-fire multi-channel news cycles that will come to mark this era in our history make that virtually impossible. I should be confronting something! Resist! March! Sign petitions! Call your Congressman! Volunteer! Donate! Post stuff on Facebook that nobody reads! These are all (except maybe the last) noble calls to action, and I believe in their importance on a number of levels – even if they sometimes provide only temporary and personal satisfaction. It’s easy to experience frustration, anger and outrage these days – we’re being served a veritable feast, a buffet of insults served with way too much gusto. Should we confront? Or defer? Or even take a middle ground? Hoping to avoid the indigestion of overconsumption, I’m hung up on the advice to “choose your battles;” after all, if I’m outraged at everything, then maybe it’s just me that is outrageous. So I pretend to ignore the lesser Trumpian evils, looking to latch on to one of many bigger ones.

That didn’t work so well, either.

In January, I wrote – and then archived (that’s the new term for “ripped up”) a blog post on my attempts to separate conservative policy from Trumpian incompetence. I had an idea there that conservative thought – if it still exists – likely continues to have a solid foundation in principle – even if I find that principle distasteful. In a way, it was an attempt at a positive response to the request to “work together” with the so-called president and his supporters to MAGA. But, as I said, I archived it permanently. It quickly became a litany of insults, and writers more creative than I have invented exhilarating new ways to dis a president.

So I defer.

Instead, I’m focusing on teachable moments, fortuitous godsends for parents and mentors who have the patience and desire to work towards something better. Patience, however, shouldn’t be confused with reticence; regrettable hindsights are cluttered with missed opportunities. So teachable moments are the closest I could come to a positive spin on Trumplandia. We are gifted, often multiple times a day, with the repulsive words and actions from an office that used to command global respect. Watching the dumpster fire won’t offer long-term satisfaction – but the trash that fuels the fire is filled with powerful teachable moments. Imagine the historical relevance today’s conversations will have someday in the near future!

Here are just a few of the more compelling flare-ups from the Trump dumpster fire, contemporary yet epic teachable moments:

How should we treat immigrants to the U.S.?

• Border walls
• Muslim bans
• Islamophobia
• Mass deportations

What moral responsibility do we have for the plight of refugees - especially from countries where asserting our “national interests” has been a catalyst for asylum-seekers?

What does the American dream hold for this and future generations?

• How should we deal with the problem of accelerating income inequality?
• How can we improve public education for those who can’t afford private schools?
• Should a basic college education be free?
• Why does income dictate the quality of health care coverage?

Why is racism still so prevalent in the U.S.?

• What is the proper role of government in remedying an ongoing history of systemic racism?
• What are our individual responsibilities and opportunities?

How should we treat those who are not straight white males?

• Marriage equality
• LGBTQ rights
• Women’s rights
• Minority rights

Why do we ignore problems that can inflict so much damage?

• Environmental deregulation
• Repealing gun control laws
• Nuclear weapon proliferation

How should we respond to “just bad” people?

• White supremacists
• Bullies
• Misogynists
• Liars

How can people who call themselves Christians speak and act - and vote - with so much hatred?

I won’t (of course) tell you what to teach. Some of these topics seem simple, but most are at least subtly complex. (Watch this TED Talk: Be suspicious of simple stories. Every time you tell yourself a good vs. evil story, you’re basically lowering your IQ.) But as teachable moments, you should be prepared to apply your personal teaching method to each of these. Maybe you treat them as exercises in humanist morality; maybe you're more comfortable using parables from the Bible or the Quran. Health care is a great topic; there are parables galore, and plenty of anecdotes from the few short years of the ACA. Expect many hours’ worth of teachable moments on that topic. Is this a right of all people within a modern affluent society? Or a privilege to be earned or inherited? Should there be equal access to care? Or are those with the gold entitled to the best? How does your moral compass, your Bible, your Quran, your family and circle of friends inform your discussion?

My kids are young adults now; in a way, I'm hoping they won't read this so I can spring my teachable moments on them as they visit.

(1)   A shout out to Salman Rushdie, who’s most recent book “Two Years Eight Months and Twenty Eight Nights” inspired this blog’s title. I’ll also mention – since I’m on the topic – that I’m awed by Rushdie’s uncanny ability to write prose so beautiful that it could – if he wanted it to – make a mockery of most poetry. At the same time, he effortlessly creates stories within stories, giving new meaning to the rush that comes from getting totally lost in a book. Hence my bias towards reading over writing.