Is there anything as energizing as discovering your own ignorance?

I know I tend to be an intellectual snob.  I'm well-read, stay on top of the news, and could win a fortune on "Cash Cab", but gods, there's nothing like going back to school to help you realize how much you don't know.  For some folks, that might be depressing, but for me it's like crack.  My mind wont shut down, I'm reading six hours a day, and resenting the gainful employment that's paying for the honor I have of discovering how ridiculously limited my knowledge is...

My current class is called California Ethnic Literature - a junior level class I need to supplement my 2, count them 2, degrees in literature in order to get my high school english credential.  Oh how I squirm to remember that I characterized this as some "politically correct class" to toss off... I'm getting repaid for my presumption in spades...

I suppose you're all already aware of such wonders as Robert Hass' poem Palo Alto Marshes, the sickening but strangely wonderful set of stories called Grand Avenue, and the delightful novel Bone?  All new to me, and astonishing... and all so bizarrely local.  I mean this stuff takes place within 30 minutes of my home...

Like most Americans, I'm uncomfortable discussing race.  But shit, there's just no getting away from the profound issues in these works.  I'm feeling some significant racial guilt.  Good stuff here, really good stuff, if I can stomach the pain of so many lost souls...