I wouldn't wish any specific thing for any specific person - it's

Hear the words of Mike Rowe, the modern herald of labor and dignity, who declared: “I wouldn't wish any specific thing for any specific person—it's none of my business. But the idea that a four-year degree is the only path to worthwhile knowledge is insane. It's insane.” These words ring like a hammer upon the anvil, striking against the chains of narrow thinking. They remind us that true knowledge is not confined to ivory towers, nor bound by parchment seals, but is alive in the hands, in the soil, in the sweat of those who build, repair, and sustain the world.

For too long, many have believed that only through a university’s gates can wisdom be found. Yet Rowe unmasks this illusion, declaring it folly—“insane.” The farmer tilling his land, the carpenter shaping wood, the welder bending steel—these are seekers and masters of knowledge, no less than the scholar with books. Theirs is a different path, yet no less honorable, no less vital. To dismiss their wisdom is to forget the foundation upon which all societies stand.

The ancients themselves knew this truth. In Athens, the philosophers debated in the Agora, but the stonemasons built the Parthenon, the blacksmiths forged weapons, the farmers brought food to the market. Without them, the city would have collapsed. Yet were they less wise? No, their knowledge was of a different kind, but just as essential. Socrates himself declared that wisdom is to “know what you do not know”—and surely, the scholar ignorant of the craftsman’s skill is as limited as the craftsman ignorant of letters.

History too gives us powerful testimony. Consider Thomas Edison, who had only a few months of formal schooling. By the standards of some, he was uneducated. Yet through restless curiosity and relentless labor, he gave the world the phonograph, the light bulb, and countless other inventions. His knowledge was not born of degrees, but of experience, of failure, of trial and error. He stands as living proof of Rowe’s claim: that worthwhile knowledge takes many forms, and that to exalt only one path is madness.

Rowe’s words also strike at a deeper truth about individual freedom. He says he would not wish “any specific thing for any specific person,” for it is not for one man to dictate the destiny of another. Each soul has its own calling, its own gifts. To force all along one path—the path of the four-year degree—is to deny the richness of human diversity. Some are born to study law, others to heal as physicians, others to shape steel or guide engines. All are worthy, if pursued with integrity and skill.

The lesson for us, O listeners, is this: do not confuse titles with wisdom, nor diplomas with destiny. Honor every form of honest work, and recognize knowledge wherever it is found—in the classroom, in the workshop, in the field, or in the forge. Teach your children that their worth is not determined by a piece of paper, but by their effort, their passion, and their willingness to learn from life itself.

And what must you do in your own life? Cast aside contempt for the so-called “lesser trades.” If you are called to study, study deeply. If you are called to labor, labor proudly. Never belittle those who chose a different path, for in their hands may lie the very skill that saves you. Support apprenticeships, value vocational training, and share Rowe’s wisdom with others—that society cannot thrive if it forgets the dignity of work outside the halls of universities.

Thus let these words be carried forth: a four-year degree is but one road among many, not the sole gateway to knowledge. True wisdom lies in honoring every path of learning, and in lifting up those who build, repair, and sustain the world. Insane, indeed, is the belief that only one way is worthy; sane and noble is the recognition that all honest paths, walked with devotion, lead to greatness.