How a Chalkboard is Better than ChatGPT
If an Ex-Marine or a bald man holding a clipboard hands you a fortune cookie ... You really should read it.
My 10th-grade math teacher, Mr. Johnstone, stood there, chalk in hand, looking as if he was about to launch into a mind-numbing lesson on geometry or algebra—whatever it was, I wasn’t ready (I NEVER was). But then he did something unexpected.
He paused, turned to us, and said, “So, I know about a car that’s for sale. Are any of you interested?”
Now here I was, 16 years old, and my very respected math teacher just played an uno reverse card on us. This was a classroom full of boys, most of whom had either just gotten their driver's licenses or were about to. The thought of a car for sale? We were hooked. In an instant, we bombarded him with questions.
"How many miles? What kind of car? How fast does it go? What's the price?"
You name it, we asked it. Mr. Johnstone stood there, calmly writing down each question on the chalkboard. When we had run out of questions, he smirked and said something I’ll never forget.
“There’s no car for sale. I just wanted to see how many questions you’d ask.”
Our jaws collectively hit the floor.
“Imagine,” he continued, “if you approached everything in life with the same curiosity and attention. You’re asking all these questions about a car—now imagine what you could accomplish if you did the same about everything else, your next school, your future job and even your future spouse?”
I might not have understood it then, but that was the first time I began to see that wisdom wasn’t just about having answers to questions —it was about intentionally looking for answers.
The Mentor Who Knew Better
Fast forward a few years, and I found myself back at my old high school, but this time as a coach, working alongside my own former coach Mr. Lidderdale. Fresh out of college with a degree in teaching and an advanced understanding of human performance, I thought I knew everything there was to know. I had the books, the science, the knowledge—what else did I need?
My former coach “Lids”, now my mentor, had other plans. One early morning, as we were getting ready for a cross-country race, he pulled me aside, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You’ve got great energy, but take it easy today. You don’t want to overwhelm those junior high kids.”
I smiled, but in my head, I was thinking, Surely he doesn’t know what I know? I had just finished a successful collegiate career, earned an advanced degree, and I was ready to share everything with my athletes. But he wasn’t talking about knowledge—he was talking about wisdom.
It didn’t take long for me to see the gap between what I knew and what my coach understood. Sure, I had all the knowledge, but he had the wisdom. And that’s where I began to see the difference: Knowledge is something you learn, something you can measure in facts, figures, and theories. But wisdom—that’s something you grow into. It’s something you develop through experience, through mistakes, through patience. Those two men had it . . . I obviously did not.
The Difference Between Knowledge and Wisdom
Here’s what I came to realize: Knowledge is great, but it’s limited. It gives you the tools to understand the world, but wisdom is what shows you how to use those tools.
In modern times, we often confuse the two. We think that having access to more information means we’re somehow wiser. But information alone is just that—facts and data. Wisdom is knowing what to do with it.
Take, for example, Carol Dweck’s research on the growth mindset. The idea that intelligence isn’t fixed, that we can always grow and adapt, is powerful. Neuroscience shows us that neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to change—continues throughout life. That’s knowledge. But wisdom tells us that change takes time, that mistakes are inevitable, and that grace is essential in the learning process.
Or consider Martin Seligman’s work on positive psychology. His research reveals that traits like curiosity, open-mindedness, and emotional regulation are key to thriving. Again, that’s knowledge. But it’s wisdom that teaches us how to apply those traits in real life, how to foster them over time, and how to pass them on to others. You can listen to these 20-minute videos or read the numerous articles written about these incredible concepts but that’s just the acquisition of knowledge. Knowing what they say is one thing, but the active pursuit of the aforementioned concepts is an entirely different thing… it’s wisdom.
In coaching, I found myself sharing this knowledge with my athletes. But it wasn’t the facts or research that made the biggest difference—it was the application of these ideas, the wisdom to know when and how to use them, that truly mattered.
The Timeless Pursuit of Wisdom
Looking back, I see how those lessons from Mr. Johnstone and Coach Lidderdale were preparing me for something bigger. They were showing me what the ancient texts already knew—what Proverbs 4:5-7 teaches us:
“Get wisdom, get understanding; do not forget my words or turn away from them... Though it cost all you have, get understanding.”
What I love about this passage is how it emphasizes the value of wisdom, not just as something to acquire, but as something to pursue relentlessly. The ancient writers knew what we sometimes forget today—that wisdom is more precious than any amount of information we can gather.
In today’s world, where information is abundant and easily accessible, it’s wisdom that is scarce. We can Google anything, find answers in seconds, and have AI present an encyclopedia worth of knowledge in seconds, but wisdom requires time, reflection, and life experience. It’s not something you can download or summarize in a quick answer. It’s something you cultivate.
And here’s the truth: though it may cost you everything, as Proverbs says, wisdom is worth the pursuit. It’s the one thing that will guide you through the complexities of life—not just knowing the facts, but understanding how to live them out.
Conclusion: Wisdom Over Knowledge
In the end, my 10th-grade math teacher wasn’t just trying to teach us about curiosity. He was showing us the way to wisdom. And my high school coach wasn’t just managing a group of athletes—he was guiding us through life, knowing that wisdom would take us further than knowledge ever could.
The thing I’ve yet to mention is the delivery of that wisdom. It took two men, perfectly placed in my life, to share these small yet impactful pearls. They had my trust; I listened, and they delivered. Wisdom isn’t something you scan for in books—it’s shared in life, either from those who love us or to those we love.
Today, as I coach and mentor others, I try to pass on the same message. Knowledge is important, but wisdom is essential. And the pursuit of wisdom, as Proverbs teaches us, is the ultimate goal.
In our fast-paced, information-heavy world, may we never lose sight of the importance of seeking wisdom, the giver of wisdom—no matter how much it costs.