So this one is a bit more abstract. I had a professor who I have talked quite a bit about on this blog. He has been very influential in how I view the world and relate to people. (You can thank him for my post about dreams a couple of months ago.) Anyway he once pointed out that your two eyes each send slightly different images to your brain. In other words, they disagree, and it is through the disagreement that you get a more accurate picture of the world. He likened that to scientific theories, which become stronger the more they are synthesized together with conflicting theories, and hinted that something similar takes place in other fields of knowledge and epistemology.
Wait! Stay with me here! Here's a picture:
Anyway, if having a couple of eyes spaced by three inches improves our mental representation of the world so much, imagine if they were spaced by three feet. Or three miles. Or 3,000 miles. We could have eyes all over the world, all feeding directly into our brains. Ears too! And maybe even a finger or a taste bud here or there. Imagine it! History would not be written just by the victors. The president couldn't lie nearly as easily. Someone would say "remember when..." and then some part of us would probably have been there to experience that event.
Stop. Wait. Idea #2 is getting cancerous due to premature application to too many phases of life, and we all know what happens when we do that. We get CFCs or worse: T-rexes tearing through our beautiful Jurassic Park.
So here is the new, refined Idea #2 (or what we'll start with, anyway): You each get one extra eye. You can place it anywhere in the world and, for simplicity's sake, assume that it is about as durable as a nalgene bottle. I mean, you can drop it and stuff, but don't back your car over it. The eyeball CANNOT locomote; it just stares, and gives you wireless information directly into your lateral geniculate nucleus (the thingy that interprets visual information) without having to watch it like a surveilance camera.
Because there you are at boarding school, learning all of this stuff that makes sense in boarding school, and then you go home and it all goes out the window. If you learned it while part of you was still at home, it would slip into your life seamlessly while you dust off Mr. Bear and call all of your old friends.
But maybe if you leave part of yourself at home, you would have never really learned that thing in boarding school after all. We'll have to do some pilot testing. Any volunteers?