Assignment 3: Theodore Ehrenborg

On my vacation in early August, I encountered a problem with news like this: “Saudiskt gåvoregn över Trump – antisaudisk retorik kom av sig.” I had not anticipated that all newspapers in Sweden write in Swedish (although in hindsight it’s obvious). No longer could I skim through several newspaper articles in minutes; each story now demanded deciphering. Accustomed to comprehensive coverage of American politics, I now only saw the mere tidbits that diffused over the Atlantic. But this linguistic barrier allowed me to pause the 24/7 news cycle and understand the difference between urgent news and important news. So, for the first time since eighth grade, I took an extended break from the media.

My daily newspaper habit originated in Princeton, New Jersey, where my parents, bringing my brother and me, were taking a year-long sabbatical — a respite from teaching that enabled my parents to meet other math professors. As always, we visited a public library every week, but the one in Princeton separated the children’s and teenagers’ sections. Was this a problem for my nine-year-old brother? Of course not; he continued reading voraciously. But a problem for me? Yes: I had outgrown most of the children’s books, but I did not want to label myself as a teen, and the General Fiction section also failed to hold my interest. By process of elimination, I turned to the nonfiction section, which I soon supplemented with the newspaper. Therefore, my personal knowledge of current events began around the 2014 midterm elections.

Princeton’s influence on me does not end with my reading choices. Compared to Lexington, teachers there took a hands-off approach, so unengaged and disorganized students struggled. On the contrary, teachers at Henry Clay favor short-term assignments with plenty of oversight. But when my classes do require long-term planning (e.g. Visual Literacy), I silently thank my eighth-grade teachers for preparing me all year long.

Briefer vacations often mix long waiting periods with urgent scrambling (e.g. waiting in a long line for TSA before running to a gate). This contrast often wears me down, but it sometimes teaches the best type of problem-solving skills, those that come from life, not school. Just after the 2016 election, the Model United Nations Club returned from a competition in Williamsburg, Virginia. Our plane left for home at about two, so we only had 20 minutes for lunch before boarding a bus. Fortunately, a nearby store contained a sandwich shop. Unfortunately, the rest of the club reached it before me. By the time I arrived, new orders had a 30-minute waiting time. The preceding committee meeting having mentally exhausted me, I had no clue where to find another restaurant.

    What could I do when faced with this seemingly intractable problem? Give up — and go hungry while traveling? Stick with conventional options — and miss the bus while waiting in line? No. By changing how I viewed the problem, it ceased to exist. I didn’t need lunch; I just needed food (e.g. a baguette and salami) to make lunch (e.g. a salami sandwich). At that moment, I realized that the sandwich shop was in a grocery store; lunch took 15 minutes to make and eat. Today, I always consider the unusual option early on.