They say our sense of smell is the most primitive of our five (six?) senses. Although, I might argue for ‘dollars and sense’. But the sudden cool weather, here in the northeast, and the smokey, damp scent of autumn blustering in, brings me rushing right back to those going back to elementary school days - brand new looseleaf binders, book covers, sharpened pencils, ruler, protractor, compass. Excitement mixed with nervousness about what the new teacher would be like, where our desk would be, who else would be in the class.

Fall has always felt like a time to get busy. No small challenge when the brisk morning temperatures make it that much cozier to stay nestled under the bedcovers. But somewhere deep in our brainstem, at least up here north of the 40th parallel, is the genetic memory nudging us to start gathering acorns for the coming winter.

I recall one chilly September morning - I was around 7 or 8 - walking the half-mile to school with my classmate, Patty Scattaberg. She wore a dark blue knit hat with shiny plastic berries sewn on top, that covered her curly brown hair and ears. As we approached our low, brick schoolhouse, we were startled by a loud squawk and flapping of wings as a huge black crow swooped down on us, grabbed the berries on Patty’s knit hat and flew off into a nearby tree clutching Patty’s knit hat, plastic berries and all. By October, that crow had a fine collection of hats and buttoned gloves and a quite impressive nest. Although, I was never sure whether she was frustrated at having filched all that fake fruit or delighted at having stolen so much shiny stuff. Either way, she’d certainly been busy.

Of course back then, the question of why we were getting busy was irrelevant. We trusted, somehow, that the grownup world knew what they were doing and so assumed there was some plan in place to channel our youthful enthusiasm and energy in order to prepare us for some meaningful pursuit later on. When we were older. When we became grownups ourselves.

We may have been a little too trusting.

It would never have occured to us that we were simply being socialized, channeled to play our parts in a post-agrarian, numbingly industrial society. Our still innocent minds could never have conceived of a fear driven, socio-economic system, which was designed from the ground up - or more acurately, from the top, down - to train each new generation of serfs, middle managers and a handful of bosses merely to replicate and perpetuate the societal and corporate structures and systems already in place.

It was enough that we were assured by loving, if distracted, parents and teachers that what we were doing there, and what we were learning, was for the best.

And in a way it was. Because no nurturing parent or caring teacher wants to send off their children unprepared for survival in the real world of bills and mortages and taxes.

And therein lies the dilemma. Because while making a living (for most) is crucial, making a living doing something you care about - something meaningful - is, to my mind, more crucial. Yeah, I know that’s logically and grammatically incorrect, but true nonetheless. And I say that knowing full well that for so many people in the world, the latter option is an unattainable luxury.

We all face the choice and fail or succeed to varying degrees. Luck and circumstance play a role but so does culture. While the economy makes the ground rules, assigning value to various pursuits, it’s culture that speaks to our inner selves. A culture that values education, scholarship, for its own sake, a culture that values the arts, pure science, individuality, risk taking, meaning… is a culture that will survive and flourish beyond its narrowly conceived, corporation serving, bottom-line.

My two teenage kids are both heading off to school, picking courses, in the early stages of fashioning some kind of direction. Do I encourage them to be practical or to follow their dreams? Is it possible to do both?

Ultimately, they each have to decide for themselves. I trust they’ll find the answer in themselves, and, hopefully, find a way to balance those often conflicting priorities in a way that makes them happiest - regarless of whether they reach for those nourishing morsels or all that cool shiny stuff - or both.