“I don’t know.”

If you’ve ever had the dubious honor of taking a class with me, you would know that when called on by the professor, “I don’t know” is my favorite response. “I don’t know” is one of my favorite things to say.

In class, if I don’t know the answer to the question, I don’t see any reason to fake it. I’m there to learn, not waste the professor’s time with made-up answers. And so, I’m the “I don’t know” guy, the classmate who rarely answers the professor’s question.

Sure, that’s a cool little story, but recently I’ve found myself having to say “I don’t know” to more serious queries. “What’s your plan after graduate school?” “What do you think about gun control?” Who are you going to vote for in the Presidential election?”

Suddenly, people expect an answer. But more so than in class, I really don’t know the answer. My life is at this enormous crossroads and knowing has suddenly become significantly more difficult. Suddenly, not knowing the answers to people’s questions is offensive or confusing.

And so now I have a question, “Why is not knowing a bad thing?”

Isn’t it better to listen than speak? I may not have many answers to life’s questions, but I know that I’m trying to find them. I know that I’m trying to wrap my hands around this wild venture of life. I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time, but I’m trying to learn as fast as I can.

I don’t really have that much to say, and I’m ok with that. In fact, I embrace it. The less I give my opinion now and the more I learn, means that eventually I’ll know some of the answers. And who knows, maybe I’ll start asking some questions of my own.