Hey, Now I’m Perfect!
I just finished reading Michael Schur’s book on philosophy called How to be Perfect: the Correct Answer to Every Moral Question. If you haven’t heard of Michael Schur, you’ve likely seen one of his famed television shows. He is a writer/producer/creator/director of such shows as The Office, Parks and Recreation, and The Good Place. The latter television show dealt with moral philosophy and its many dilemmas, none of which were easy to solve, and which drove the central problem of the show: can someone, should they really want to, become a good person?
Through his experiences making The Good Place, Michael Schur wrote a book that finally explains fully and clearly how to be a perfect person.
And ever since I concluded the final page, I feel MORE perfect (if such a thing were possible).
Before I started reading the book, I was pretty sure I was the most perfect human being imaginable (perhaps a minor league Jesus Christ, the second perfect person in existence), but now I treat people nicely, which, as Michael Schur stated over and over (almost a little annoyingly) in his book made for being a better person.
I don’t know; jury’s still out if being kind makes life better for anyone, but if it makes me a little more perfect, I suppose I can give it a try…
*And so ends the sarcastic commentary*
In all seriousness, Michael Schur’s book was a triumph not only because of the erudite and relatable explanations of the basic concepts of philosophy, but also because this was the first book I’ve ever read in which I ACTUALLY REMEMBERED specific things about philosophical argumement.
Deontology? Introduced by Immanual Kant, it means there are universal moral laws that must be followed (don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t steal) because, in this school of thought, there is a RIGHT and WRONG to every problem.
Utilitarianism? Simply put, it’s the benefit of most that determines the right action (for example: if more people benefit from YOUR death, then, by all means, you must be killed to make other’s lives better).
Contractualism? Easy: to agree on a set of reasonable rules that society must follow, and that these rules cannot be reasonably revoked by anyone (ie: you should throw away your trash; opening the door for others is a nice thing to do; running someone off the road is bad; etc).
Michael Schur made every philosophical problem entertaining and interesting while only throwing in a few schools of western philosophical thought to balance each scenario. There are famous thought experiments – most famously the Trolley Problem – and how it isn’t such a guaranteed solution to think about. Should a runaway trolley be forced to either crash into one person or five on a split in the tracks, which would you choose? The lone person seems like a clear contender to die—but there are consequences in assuming this answer. What if a doctor needs an organ transplant and the only one around with a healthy liver is you? Does that mean you are obligated to donate it on the spot?
This, along with tons of other examples made for a funny and enlightening way to read philosophy.
As an aside, one section I appreciated the most was just why Ayn Rand’s idea of “Everyone for themselves leads to world happiness!” is such a stupid, childish idea. Michael Schur does a splendid job tearing this bad idea a new one and the book is worth the purchase alone just to read all about it.
Seriously, what a dumb idea that was, Ayn.
It was a joy to read How to be Perfect and I cannot recommend it enough.
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NAIL CLIPPERS
I don’t have a take on this true story from this week other than to say, “Ew!”
At a staff meeting, I sat at a round table with six teachers. We were asked to discuss the most recent batch of data pertaining to children performance in our classrooms. The task was to come up with reasons the data worked, what was missing, and if there was any way to make recording the data a better experience.
Across the table from myself was another teacher who happened to take out a neon pink silicon coin purse. The floor was hers to begin.
“I think the data is pretty easy to fill in during the day,” she said, unclasping the pink coin purse. “Does anyone else have any problems?”
“I wish we had more time to take notes and fill in tables like we’re supposed to. It feels like there isn’t enough time,” offered another teacher.
UNCLASP. From the pink purse came a pair of nail clippers. The clippers readied on the left-handed pointer finger of the teacher leading the discussion.
“Robert, any thoughts?”
I didn’t hear the question. I was focused on the nail clippers and just what, in a conference room with forty teachers, they were doing there and about to do.
“On the data?” I asked, not sure if I even said this aloud.
“Well, duh,” said the teacher, shaking her head. She looked to her nails.
CLIP. CLIP. CLIP.
Like purple, glossed shrapnel, bits of fingernail flung away like some World War I dogfight shooting the hulls of their airplanes out of the sky.“Fire!” I heard a captain shout, and a pepper-spray of debris flew everywhere, entrenching the table with debris.
“Robert?” asked the teacher, taking a break from clipping. “Did you hear me?”
“Right,” I said, staring at the nail clippers. “Well, it would be nice if we had more time to enter in data,”
“I think we said that already.” CLIP, CLIP, CLIPPITY.
A nail flew upward, the apex of its arc certain to land in the open lid of my coffee. Quickly, I sealed the opening with my bare palm, the steam burning my skin to curdles. The shard of nail glanced off my protecting hand, which, induced a welling in my throat of near-vomit projectile.
CLIP. CLIP. “Anyone else have any thoughts?” CLIP.
I peered around the table, the other teachers either peering down at their data spreadsheets or sipping a frozen coffee from a straw from the plastic container—they were the lucky ones; the nails had no way to penetrate the Bigby Frozen Coffee lid defenses. And yet, seemingly no one paid any mind to the egregious thing happening before us. No one seemed to notice bits of fingernail littering the table like a surgeon had finished sawing through bone on the operating table, but hadn’t quite broomed away the calcified bone bits into the trash can (or wherever such things end up).
“Maybe they should TRIM down our spreadsheets,” I offered, stunned by the nail trimmings.
There was unanimous agreement around the table. No one had caught the pun, that I was mocking the woman with the nail clippers.
“Ok,” said the teacher, inspecting all ten finished fingernails.
I sighed in relief, unclasping the lid of my coffee. I turned my hand over and looked over the soaked third-degree burns I must have suffered by protecting the hot liquid inside.
But the teacher was not done. She started pawing at the clippings, rounding them up into a frenzied pile. And then, with one quick swish of the hand (like a magician might) she flung the pile of nail trimmings off the table and onto the conference room carpet.
I was agape with shock.
“Ok, listen up everyone!” said our director. “I think we’ve had enough time to discuss the data. I think we could use a break and do something fun. Let’s get on the floor and share a bit about our classrooms, something positive.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I declared, perhaps too loudly.
And it was there I stayed, looking in the mirror, for several minutes, certain that the activity on the floor with the nail trimmings lodged in the fine carpet would be over. In the reflection, I saw the state of my nails and said, “Huh. Could use a trim.”
I washed my hands and rejoined the meeting.
***
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Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,
