Jaime Escalante had a well-paying job at a computer company until he resigned to become a high school teacher. As fate would have it, he was assigned to Garfield High, located in the slums of East Los Angeles, California, not far from my hometown. There, he would teach basic math.
A movie based on his life shares a scene in which the principal is meeting with teachers and other school administrators. The principal reminds them that the school is on probation because of its academic failures. One of the teachers present mentions that the only way to have higher test scores is to move the school out of the slums, in other words, move the school to a place where rich kids live. Another chimed in that you can’t teach logarithms to illiterates. Finally, after a moment of silence, the newest teacher, Jaime Escalante, spoke up: “The students,” he said, “will rise to our level of our expectation.”
One then sees him teaching in the classroom. It is obvious that he is no ordinary teacher. One sees hope being planted in the eyes of his students for the first time – maybe they can not only pass math but even master it.
At one of the subsequent administration meetings, Jaime Escalante announced that he wanted to teach calculus the next year at Garfield High. The only way the juniors could prepare for it, however, was to have them take trigonometry and advanced algebra in summer school. The other teachers and administrators were shocked at such a suggestion. “That’s ridiculous,” said one, “our kids can’t handle calculus.” Then he added, “There are some teachers in this room who can’t handle calculus.” But Jaime Escalante was not to be discouraged or derailed – he had incredible faith in the potential of these young people and a vision of what they might become. Finally permission was granted. Upon announcing to his students that they should enroll in summer school, he heard remarks such as, “We will be seniors – it will be our year to slack off.” But somehow, these students knew deep down that this was their chance, their opportunity to rise to heights never before achieved in their lives.
After a difficult summer of sweltering classrooms, Jaime’s faithful students returned to their senior year to confront the difficult subject of calculus. At one point, one of the frustrated young men said, “Everybody knows I am the dumbest. I cannot do calculus.” Jaime responded, “Do you have the desire?” The boy said, “Yes.” That was enough. He stayed on.
Finally, the moment of truth came for these students to take the high school advanced placement test. If they scored a 3, it meant they qualified for college credit; if they scored a 4, they were well qualified; and if they scored 5, they basically scored the equivalent of an A for college credit. By way of background, this calculus test is so difficult that only a small percentage of all U.S. high school students ever attempt it.
With great anxiety, eighteen students took the test and then with equally great anxiety waited for the results. To their great delight and amazement, all eighteen students received college credit. It was miraculous. No other school in Southern California had so many students qualify. But then a problem arose; those who had administered the test thought the students must have cheated. The scores were substantially above those of any other school. Surely, they thought, this would be impossible from such a school as Garfield High, located in the slums of East L.A. This stigma hung over the students until finally each agreed to retake the test, this time with as much additional supervision as the school district desired. They did retake the test. Anxiously, they waited for their test scores. Finally the scores were given to the principal over the phone – 4, 5, another 5, 4, 3, 4 – all eighteen students again had qualified for college credit. It was a resounding victory for vision and faith in the human soul. It was a great reminder that the youth in the humblest barrios of East L.A. could rise to the same heights as those in the private and expensive schools of Beverly Hills. Why? Because they all had the same common denominator – they were all children of God with equally divine potential.
The movie concludes by putting on the screen the number from Garfield High who passed the advance placement test in subsequent years:
1983 – 31
1984 – 63
1985 – 77
1986 – 78
1987 – 87
What made the difference? The vision of one teacher and the determination of students who made no excuses along the way.
Some might think that education is only a temporal or secular goal, but that would be a serious misconception. Academic excellence is a religious pursuit. The scriptures tell us that “it is impossible for a man to be saved in ignorance” (D&C 131:6) and further that “if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come” (D&C 130:19). Some never seem to grasp this verity; they envision sharp dividing lines between the religious and secular, when in truth religion circumscribes all truth regardless of its origin or discipline.
On one occasion, Brigham Young admonished the Saints, “Learn everything that the children of men know. Every true principle, every true science, every art and the knowledge that men possess, or that they ever did or ever will possess, is from God.”1 Brigham Young was echoing the words of the Lord that we should learn “Of things both in heaven and in the earth, and under the earth; things which have been, things which are, things which must shortly come to pass; things which are at home, things which are abroad; the wars and the perplexities of the nations, and the judgments which are on the land; and a knowledge also of countries and of kingdoms” (D&C 88:79), and then the Lord added “that ye may be prepared in all things” (D&C 88:80).
Without minimizing our educational experience, President Eyring put it in perspective: “It is clear that our first priority should go to spiritual learning. For us, reading the scriptures would come before reading history books. Prayer would come before memorizing those Spanish verbs. A temple recommend would be worth more to us than standing first in our graduating class. But it is also clear that spiritual learning would not replace our drive for secular learning. … On the contrary, it gives our secular learning purpose and motivates us to work harder at it.”2 And what is that purpose? It is to become more like God in our character and in our intellect. That is our vision and our goal.
It was July 4, 1952. Florence Chadwick, who had previously swum the English Channel, now attempted the twenty-one mile swim from the southern California mainland to Catalina Island. The water was a freezing 48 degrees. The fog was thick and visibility almost nil. Finally, only a half mile from her destination, she became discouraged and quit. The next day reporters clamored around her asking why she had quit. Had it been the cold water? The distance? It proved to be neither. She responded, “Yesterday, I was licked by the fog.” She then recalled a similar experience while swimming the English Channel. Evidently, the fog was likewise engulfing. She was exhausted. As she was about to reach out for her father’s hand in the nearby boat, he pointed to the shore. She raised her head out of the water just high enough to faintly see the shoreline ahead. With that new vision, she pressed on and swam the English Channel.3 This story teaches a great truth—with increased vision comes increased motivation.
A correct vision of education motivates us to be better students and more focused learners. As the divine offspring of God, we have the power to become like Him. That is a staggering thought, a glorious thought, a profound thought. As we better understand our potential destiny, our level of self-worth and confidence and motivation is greatly heightened. We will understand that it is shortsighted at best to take easy classes and easy teachers, rather than ones that will stretch us toward Godhood. We will catch the vision that it is Godhood, not grades, for which we are striving.
The story is told of the king who wanted to master geometry. He called before him his finest advisor to teach him the subject. The teacher taught the king some basic principles and left him with some homework. When the advisor returned, he discovered the homework was undone. The king responded that he did not realize such mental effort would be required. “Is there not an easier way?” he inquired. Then came the sobering reply: “My majesty, there is no royal road to geometry.” Likewise, there is no royal road to the mastery of any academic or spiritual subject. It takes hard work and persistence. Does anyone believe that it is possible to become like God, the creator of worlds ad infinitum, without the botany skills to create plants, or the engineering know how to design earths, or the mathematical acumen to set in motion the orbit of planets, or the artistic appreciation to bring beauty and aesthetics to our handiwork? Someday, we will have to pay the price to master these disciplines. There will be no magic wand that will freely bestow that knowledge upon us. At some time, it will dawn upon us that every day, every class is a critical part of our eternal schooling.
No doubt you recall the story of Peter walking on water. As he saw the surging waves, he started to lose faith and began to sink. The Savior extended His hand and said, “O thou of little faith” (Matthew 14:31). I have often thought to myself, “How many other men do you know who had the faith to walk on water, even for a few steps?” But the Savior was not comparing Peter to other men; He never does that. In truth, He was saying, “O ye of little of faith compared to what you can become.” Our Father’s expectation of each of us is that we do become like Him, intellectually as well as spiritually.
Some years ago, while serving as the President of the Toronto Mission, I had a 6’7” missionary from a small town in Arizona assigned to our mission. We encouraged our missionaries to memorize scriptures every day. This missionary, just off the farm, said, “I can’t do it, President. I can’t memorize.” I replied, “Just work on one sentence at a time.” Being obedient, he did his best. In our final interview, I said to him, “I understand you have now memorized over 50 scriptures.” He responded with a smile, “No, President – over 70 scriptures.” In truth, our capabilities have no limitations because God has planted within each of us the seeds of Godhood. His divine DNA is in our spiritual composition.
We had another missionary assigned to us from the United States who struggled in school and had been assigned to speak Spanish. At the beginning of his mission, he approached me several times and asked me to transfer him to an English-speaking area. I reminded him that he had been called to speak Spanish, but the repeated requests still came. One day, he was in the mission office and started eating one of the cookies that was in a jar on the table. He was there with several other missionaries. I asked him if he knew how to say cookie in Spanish. He replied “No.” I said “Elder, there is a new rule for you. From this day forward you cannot eat it or wear it until you can say it in Spanish.” One of the nearby elders remarked, “You are going to have a hungry, naked elder on your hands.” I replied, “No, I am going to have an elder who learns Spanish.” I can’t say that he ever became the preeminent Spanish speaker in our mission, but he did learn the language sufficiently to teach many investigators in Spanish, to baptize in Spanish, and to become a district leader of a Spanish district. He went home a new man, learning that his capabilities had far exceeded his initial expectations.
As I was about to leave for college, my older brother gave me this wise counsel: “Tad,” he said, “Always take one more unit than you think you can handle.” That advice stretched me and helped elevate my college experience.
Education has been and always will be the great equalizer for men and nations. It helps eliminate poverty. It prepares youth to be better-qualified missionaries. It produces parents more able to bring culture and refinement into the home; it provides someone with the skills and knowledge to pursue a vocation that can be both rewarding and economically viable, and it can nurture and enlarge the leadership and teaching skills of church members. But most importantly, education will help us in our pursuit of Godhood. It will help us become like Him who is all-knowing, and thus, in the ultimate sense, our quest for academic excellence is a religious pursuit.
What then can we do to enhance our educational experience and to improve as students? First, we can listen carefully and take notes in class and elsewhere. It takes some energy and effort, but that is part of the price tag of learning. If you have not developed that habit, you should do so now. As a young man, S. Dilworth Young was attending a conference at which a number of church leaders were present. During the course of this meeting, he noticed an older brother on one of the last pews. He was sound asleep, with his head back, his mouth wide open. Brother Young then noticed a skylight immediately above this gentleman’s head. The thought went through his mind that if he could climb to that skylight, he could drop wads of paper into the man’s mouth and give him the shock of his life. As terrible as the thought was, he said that it nonetheless preoccupied his mind for the rest of the meeting. Finally the meeting ended, the benediction was offered, and all arose to leave. Brother Young found himself behind a man who was obviously touched. This brother turned to the man by his side and said, “Wasn’t that a spiritual feast we had today.” Brother Young then said to himself, “Dilworth, where were you when the feast was being served?”4 Feasts are regularly served in classes, in Sacrament meeting, and in many other locations, but in many cases, we leave fasting rather than feasting. Fortunately, you can correct this. You can listen more carefully; you can take meaningful notes; you can ponder and share what you have learned; you can be a more attentive student.
Second, you can study in a place of quiet solitude, an hour of quiet time is worth several hours in front of the TV. Some subjects demand meditation and pondering to become their master. Third, you can take challenging teachers and courses. An easy teacher may be nice and a good friend, but if he or she does not stretch your mental capacity and strengthen your spirituality, then he or she is not yet a great teacher. I had a friend at school who only took easy teachers because he wanted good grades. He completely missed the point of his education. He was living only for today, completely failing to grasp the eternal implications.
Fourth, you can ask questions in class and to your roommates. Questions are often the precursor to knowledge and revelation. It was a question that triggered the first vision, a question that triggered the word of wisdom, a question that triggered the glorious revelation on celestial marriage. Reach outside your comfort zone, ask questions, and be a full participant in classroom discussions.
And fifth, you can be observant. Ammaron informed Mormon when he was but 10 years of age that he would one day be entrusted with the gold plates. Then he gave one of the reasons for this selection: “I perceive … thou … art quick to observe” (Mormon 1:2). You too can be a nonstop student—quick to observe—not just learning in class but at mealtime or in conversations with friends. President Hinckley was a prime example of this.
Not long ago, I spoke with Sister Sheri Dew who wrote the biography on President Hinckley’s life. She mentioned that he was a voracious reader of newspapers, the Harvard Classics, anything that was good and ennobling. He could converse with the chairman of the Federal Reserve at one moment and the guy installing your plumbing the next. Whether at dinner or elsewhere, he had a string of unending questions. After doing this for so many years, and by the time she met him, she felt he was conversant on most any topic.
Elder Russell Nelson spoke of observing President Hinckley at a regional conference: “One of the security officers assigned to us worked for the local police department. We had time between sessions, and President Hinckley grilled that officer for an hour about their procedures, techniques, and even the equipment they used. I marveled that he knew which questions to ask, each of which was law-enforcement specific.” Elder Robert D. Hales adds, “I have never met an individual who can become so well informed through reading and through contact with people. When he spends an evening at dinner with someone, he leaves knowing something about that person’s expertise.”5
President Hinckley embodied the invitation found in the Thirteenth Article of Faith: “If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” There is much to be learned, not only in the classroom but also outside its boundaries. How many times in the scriptures have we been enjoined to seek out of the best books words of wisdom? I will never forget reading Hawthorne’s “The Great Stone Face” and being reminded of the eternal truth that we become like those things which we habitually love and admire.
Recently, I finished the biography of a man who served as director of central intelligence, ambassador to the United Nations, vice president, and eventually president of the United States. In reflection upon his life, he said that the three greatest titles he ever held were husband, father, and grandfather—those words cemented in my mind and heart the transcending role of family.
I have always loved poetry and tried some on my own but, unfortunately, without much success. Who is not uplifted by the words of Milton or Shakespeare or these words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight.
I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”
We ought to become familiar with the great poets and even memorize some of their soul-stirring lines.
The world of music can be a celestial realm in and of itself. Who is not touched by Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony or Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus? With angelic choirs the Lord chose to announce the birth of the Savior to the shepherds. Heavenly music has the power to lift us, to soften our hearts, and to facilitate our receptivity to spiritual things. We ought to become familiar with and develop a taste for inspiring music that is so readily available to us all.
The world of art can appeal to the depths of our emotions. In my den, I can see Washington kneeling by his horse in times of great tribulation praying for the birth and survival of our country; I can see the portrait of Lincoln whose very countenance radiates faith in God and integrity of soul. In my office, I see the picture of the Savior agonizing in Gethsemane and the angel strengthening him before he takes it all upon himself – alone – totally alone. How could that visual not inspire love for Him who gave His all for us? How many young people have pictures of the temple in their bedrooms, as President Kimball and President Monson have suggested, reminding them to be pure in heart, so they might enjoy the sacred and sublime blessings of the temple.
As we immerse ourselves in the scriptures, good books, poetry, music, art, and the like, we refine our spirits, so they are more keenly sensitive to the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. This too is part of our education. May we all broaden our horizons beyond the classroom. May our education be more than a school pursuit, may it become a life-long quest. What a golden opportunity to avail ourselves of the cultural programs on campus, the lectures, the musicals, and dramas. Do not let them pass you by. May we seek after everything that is virtuous, lovely, or of good report, or praiseworthy. May we come to know that academic excellence, including cultural refinement, is a religious pursuit. It accelerates our path to Godhood—the ultimate aim of the ultimate education.
I bear witness of a loving Heavenly Father and our capacity, as His children, to become like Him as we pursue our expanded education with diligence, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
1. JD, 14:210
2. "Education for Real Life," General Conference, Oct. 2002.
3. Conference Report, April 1955, 117.
4. This story was told by Elder S. Dilworth Young at a stake conference session in the Glendale California Stake, which the speaker attended.
5. Sheri L. Dew.
Go Forward with Faith: The Biography of Gordon B. Hinckley. Deseret Book Co. Nov. 1996. p 449-50.