CHINA DIARY 7, BEING CLOSE

Hey, diary.  it’s May 18th.  I apologize if you feel discombobulated.  I know, I’m not talking to you at a set time collectively in some kind of book. You’re scattered all over the place.  It’s almost a reflection of the state of “organized chaos” or “chaotic organization” that I revel in.  I’ve written to you whenever, wherever, and however the mood hits me, on a scattering of slips of wrinkled paper, backs of crinkled receipts, in my crossword puzzle book, across ripped pieces of tourist pamphlets, in margins of our program booklet, on whatever is in my pockets at whatever time and with whatever is available when something hits me.  Bits of you are book marks, stuffed in pockets of pants and shirts, crumpled in the computer bag, and goodness knows where else.  I’ll probably lose some of you.  Anyway, today, I initially wrote to you on the palm of my hand–before I later transcribed it on the back of a business card–about a brief conversation I had this morning.

“Why do you let us call you “Louis,” I was asked.  “You can lose your authority if you get too familiar with them.”

“I want us to be familiar and comfortable with each other.  I’d rather be a safe ‘loving presence’ than a scary authority.  Whatever ‘influence’ I may have with you,” I quickly replied, “comes from being close with you, not from my imposing ‘Dr. stuff’ or my resume or the threat of having the power of giving a grade.”

You know, diary, I think we academics more often than not judge rather than understand.  That messes up our conclusions about why students do or don’t do stuff.  We so often stand apart from students because we see them–sometimes even looking down–from a hierarchical administrative and academic perspective.  We so often impose assumptions from our limitations; we so often find it so easy to blame without knowing reasons or wanting to know reasons.  We so often lapse into moaning and groaning about students whom we really don’t know, especially in those mega-classrooms.  Here more is less, and less is more.  But, if we got to know each other, if we saw each other on the same plane from an egalitarian point of view, that we’re all sacred, noble, worthy human beings, worthy to be noticed and heard and valued, valuable enough not to be dismissed or discarded, maybe–just maybe–we’d be more apt to be more positive, adapt to circumstances, take heart that in each student are seeds of great potential, rely more on persuasion, and be less inclined to judge, command, and control.  That’s more demanding, but it is so much more powerful, meaningful, and productive.

Louis

CHINA DIARY 6, “BI”

Diary, it’s May 17th and I had another conversation with some students about love and teaching.  They’re really confused about me, a professor, talking about something one of them described as “so romantic.”  You know, people have heard of “EI,” emotional intelligence; some have heard of “SI,” social intelligence.  But, tonight I want to talk about “BI,” beauty intelligence.  I’ll put it simply to you as I did to them:  things and people are beautiful if you love them!  When you see beauty, you don’t want to ignore or destroy it; you are impressed, even “oohed and aahed” by it; it makes you contemplate; it makes you feel at ease, smile, maybe laugh, certainly happy; so, you want to nurture and you want to be kind to.  Pretty powerful stuff, isn’t it.  So, I firmly believe that cultivating an awareness of beauty in all its forms, to extend our concept of beauty, and to deepen our awareness of and sensitivity to beauty, has a heavy impact on everything we feel, think, and do, including the classroom.

Diary, I know a bunch of people would feel nervous about all this or pooh-ha it as meaningless “touchy-feely” stuff, but I’m being very practical.  It’s a powerful teaching tool!  I’ve discovered that nothing contributes so much to my peace of mind, suppresses any frustration and resignation and disinterest and a bunch of negative feelings, as seeing beauty in each student; it tunes in and focuses both my intellectual and heart eyes; it strengthens my commitment and dedication and purpose; it shores up my belief in each student’s unique potential, it deepens my faith in and hope for each student; it intensifies my resolve to make a difference.  I mean, how can you blame, disdain, denigrate, and condemn someone or something you feel is beautiful?  Because you feel good and energized and committed being around beauty, and taking it in, and participating in it, it is at the core of my “Teacher’s Oath.”

Now, the quantifiers and assessment people won’t like this.  When I say each student is beautiful, I don’t mean that Victoria’s Secret “cult of beauty” where we think those 5’8″, 34-24-34 models or GQ’s “washboard abs hulks” are somehow superior to us.  I don’t mean the “cult of sentimentality” that dwells on the outer shell of things.  And, I certainly don’t mean “cult of recognition” that spotlights academic honors and rewards.  I mean going below the surface to an individuals sacredness and nobility and worth where numbers can’t graph, words can’t describe, or pictures can’t capture.  When I say everyone has their own inner beauty, when I say we can write a Keatsian “Ode on a Student” for each student or for anyone else for that matter, we can do no other but care and act caringly.  We just have to be trained to be open to see it, to wake up to it and to savor it.  We just have to do the arduous work of awareness and otherness and reflection.  We have to accept the challenges and difficulties when we step over the line to expand our world and make a conscious decision to live consciously in this expanded beautified world.  And if we will only give it a little attention in our classrooms, or any other place for that matter–China, for example–we will find it; we will enjoy it, and, we will be happily comforted.

That’s why, diary, in some of my workshops,  I ask people to write a “beauty diary.”  I tell them that they have to search out beauty, and when they experience the gamut of beauty anywhere, with anyone or anything at anytime:  a beauty in something–a tree, a meal, a building, a scene, or whatever–or in how someone appeared, what he said, how he acted, and/or what she thought, they should write down how it affected them.  That is, what happened to their attitude towards that something or someone; did they think in different ways about that something or someone; what happened to their feelings; did they act differently; did they change their attitude and behavior?

I’ve learned that as we learn how to deliberately word paint our experiences of beauty as they happen in our life, we learn how to see and listen.  We, then, automatically become aware of them and reflect on them.  The trick is that once you are aware of it, see it, recognized it, acknowledge it, and think about it, it pretty much sticks and becomes our guide.   The awareness of beauty will deepen, the sense of otherness will heighten, the aura of enchantment will brighten, the sense of worthiness will grow, and it will help you strive to make a difference in each student’s life.  And, you will feel meaningful, significant, and purposeful.  That’s as practical as it gets.

You know, diary, if I had to give a benediction to a teacher, I’d say, “May you walk in love and beauty. May you live in love and beauty. May you teach in love and beauty.  And, may you contribute to global warming by loving and bringing beauty into the lives of those you touch.”  Not bad words to bestow on anyone.

Louis

THIS TRIP IS A TRIP

Diary, it’s May 16th.  Do you know many times I have already heard students say about the trip, “This isn’t what I thought it would be,” or “It’s not what I expected” as their certainty of what China and the Chinese would be like came under attack.  You know, we hear so much about where to travel, but hear little about why and how to travel; we hear so much about what to see, but so little about why and how to see.

A trip is rewarding because it is surprising; it is surprising because it is not what we imagined; and, not being what we imagined leads to enhancing discoveries.  This trip, like any journey, can be midwife for reflection and realization; it should bring us into new worlds and expand our own world; it should augment and invigorate rather than merely inform and instruct.  It has the power to suggest certain values and act as inspiration. The key to exercising that power is a receptivity that softens rigidity and opens close-minded, mind-setting judgment.  That is, we all have to approach China, or any place for that matter–including the classroom–without hardened, inflexible ideas about what it is, what is beautiful, what is important, what is interesting, and what is worthwhile.

So, I see this month long experience in China as a way to transform everyone’s lives and to make them richer by having the opportunity to understand another culture, a non-werstern culture, in ways that can make their bowl of life fuller.  I’m talking about absorbing fascinating, often unplanned, encounters with people and their fresh approaches to all aspects of life:  the split pants of the tots, the peddling “hello” people, the “McHomeless” (urban homeless people who sleep in all-night McDonald’s), the impressive Great Wall, a blind massage, the obstructive bureaucracy, visiting a chinese family in their home, the “cockroaches” (urban working poor), tossing and turning on plywood-like beds, tasting a fried scorpion, buddying up with chinese students, Chinese bathrooms, a front door decoration, sipping snake wine, bargaining, the mesmerizing terra cotta soldiers of Xi’an, natural formations of Yuntai, struggling with chop sticks, eating street food, talking with a street artist about his “grass art” or “ceramic flowers” (both which I bought), playing games with children at a private school, having your photograph taken by and with the curious Chinese, riding and praying for your life in a Chinese taxi, and on it goes.  And, then, bringing the lessons home to share with others so their lives can become richer, too.

Diary, I think we should travel not just to look, but to  be changed in huge and minute ways.  To do that, we have to get up close and personal, and open proverbial doors to new understanding.  We should approach travel as we do a feast, as a mouth-watering experience.  We shouldn’t merely move from place to place, but should be moved by each place.  Every day, everywhere, we should both touch and be touched.   Our eye and ear should be honed as the sharpest knife edge to notice the smallest of things.  We should “trip out” on the trip.  We should let the magic do its work.  If we do, this trip should be a journey that benefits the heart and soul as well as the mind.

And, for me, it is all a metaphor for when, why, and how we should go into a classroom each day.
Louis

CHINA DIARY 4, TOGETHERNESS

Hey diary, it’s May 15 and  I’m still talking to you. How about that1  What’s equally amazing is that we’re all getting to know each other very quickly.  We’re eating together, sleeping together, relaxing with each other, talking with each other, shopping together, touring together, doing everything together–students and teachers.  Once mostly strangers to each other, and now we’re mingling and developing into a community.  Strangers into acquaintances into friends.  Neat.  Why is this important?  There’s less standoffish here, people are more at ease and feel safer, and they can deal with newness easier, that’s why.  But, the answer, the real answer, is the real reason there is a growing focus–or should be–on creating on-campus learning communities.  Everything, our instinct and experience and science, is telling us that it’s really simple: community cures the pernicious inhibiting, debilitating, isolating, and even paralyzing diseases of strangeness, aloneness, and loneliness.  It treats isolation with doses of belonging.  It pulls out from the shadowy corner and notices the ignored.  It discovers the hiding.  It offers  the disconnected the support and encouragement of connection.  It creates a motivating environment because students, like each of us, gain so much hope, more confidence, more self-esteem, and take more risks when they know they’re not alone and someone has their back.  That’s why I work so hard to create and sustain community in my classes.
Louis

CHINA DIARY 3, ON LOVE

Diary, it’s May 14.  I was talking with some students today.  One of them, who was not from Valdosta, asked me what the core of my teaching was.  I don’t how we got on that subject.  Anyway, without missing as beat, as I have often said, “Love, unconditional love of each student.”  He looked at me and the others with a puzzled stare, and then asked me why and what I meant by that.  I told him poetically that when I love, I carry with me my own sunshine no matter the weather.”  Then, he threw a bunch of negative challenging “what ifs” at a me.  I parried,  “‘unconditional’, no qualifications, no exceptions, no ‘buts.'”  Now he looked at me nervously, and confused, as if I was some kind of nut.  “I’ve never heard any of my professors talk like that. Why is that important?”  he asked as if I was an embarrassment for having uttered as something intellectually insulting as the “L” word.  Then, I answered him in less poetic terms that nothing steadies my mind, heart, and soul as steady, unconditional love.  There’s no multi-tasking with it because it demands that I give each student my fullest attention; it focuses me; it makes me listen and see intently; That attention makes visible what I might never have seen.  No one is perfect, I told him.  I’m not fooled by imperfection.  I don’t allow myself to be fooled by mistakes the students have made into believing they are lesser than they are; I am not fooled by the dark images they have of themselves.  I see their beauty when they feel ugly; I know they can be whole when they are broken; I know they are innocent when they feel guilty; I see their purpose when they are confused; I see their potential when they feel all is lost.  When I love each student, where’s the limit to my faith, hope, perseverance, and endurance? It’s like I’ve discovered the way to defeat cynicism, frustration, and resignation. What situation or person, then, can I not face and face down, when I replace laboriousness and pointless with labor of love and purpose?

You know, diary–feels weird talking to a sheet of paper or whatever I’m writing on–I think we, student and professor alike, we can see much farther from the mountain summit than we can from the valley.  We can transform our world in general and our world in the classroom specifically in an instant by the way we choose to see it. We can change problems into opportunities, anxiety into enthusiasm, and despair into determination if we raise our perspective.  The quality of what we see depends on the perspective from which we see it. And that perspective is entirely up to us.  We can choose to live from a constant and unassailable perspective of love which makes each day a very special occasion.

Louis

CHINA DIARY, DISTINCT

Diary, May 12, “distinct” is today’s guiding word.  When you’re living literally 24/7 in close quarters with people, as we 50 are doing on this trip, “distinct”  hits you square between the eyes almost instantly.  You know, diary, it doesn’t take long to figure out that each person, faculty and student alike, is fighting her or his own particular  hard battle, walking her or his own road, entering her or his own door, carrying her or his own baggage of different amounts and weights.  So, when it comes to people, “distinct” and “diverse” are really my backbeat words of every day. People are so complicated, there’s so much going on inside each of them, much of what we think we know about each of them we don’t.  That’s where perception, presumption, and attribution, not to mention stereotype, fail us.  There is no one set path.  Idiosyncratic is the best way to really describe people.  Everyone is outside the box. Everyone is an exception to the rule.  No one is “the average.” It is ultimately the only true diversity. That makes each student, each class, each day, each term a one of kind.  Nothing routine about any of them.  In the traditional classroom, where you see students sporadically throughout a week, when you’re not in constant contact, eating, drinking, shopping, and schmoozing with them, it’s so easy to fall into the trap of blurring stereotyping, of building thick, separating walls of assumption, presumption, preconception, generalization, and attribution between you and the real each of them.  It takes battering rams of caring, constant awareness, intense otherness, a strong sense of service, focused seeing, and sincere listening–and some techniques I use–to break through those barriers.  That’s why at the beginning of my Teacher’s Oath I say live your “I care” and know that a class is a gathering of noble, sacred “ones.”

Louis