CHINA DIARY: ON HIGHER EDUCATION

Zhengzhou, May 19:  Diary, a discussion with students about their teachers has gotten me to thinking of my ex-governor of Georgia, Zell Miller, who said, “It’s easier to change the course of history than a history course.”  It’s so contrary to Mark Twain’s description of an education as a dynamic process of unlearning.  It is.  An education is transformation.  It is loss and acquisition.   It is demolition and construction.  It’s letting go of the familiar and venturing out into the unknown.  It’s self-confrontation.  It’s “creative destruction.”  It’s an invitation to a new life.  It’s the appearance of new possibility.  It is a hint of a new self.  It is growth.  It is change.  It is personal development.  It is newness.  It is nurturing new attitudes, information, performance, and achievement.  It is all these for those on both sides of the podium, for teaching as well as for learning; for the teacher as well as for the student.  Yet, it has become so “stuck-in-a-rut-like.”

Somehow so many of us academics in institutions of higher learning have a not-so-high view.  So many of us have convinced ourselves that we are “complete,” that the know-how of teaching is proportional to longevity in the classroom, that there are no “new tricks to teach this old horse,” that we can remain exempt from the ever-changing mixture of creation and destruction that is called “life.”  After all, wouldn’t it be interesting to see just how many of us change our classroom attitudes and way in response to those student evaluations of us, how many of us change our classroom in response to neuroscience’s latest findings about learning, how many of us actually change what we do in class after attending teaching conferences.  Anyway, unfortunately, too many of us reach for safety and security and hold on to them for dear life.  There are so few of us who believe that teaching is viable and vital only if it embraces the liveliness of change in accordance with all that we are unlearning and learning about the biological, emotional, social, and cultural processes that go into both learning and teaching.   To the contrary, there’s an overwhelming stale odor of fearful “self-protection,” “sameness,” “entrenchment,” “in my sleep” and “oldness” about a process that should have a fresh vitality of some abandon, courage, “adventureness,” “creativity,” “imagination,” “inventiveness,” “discovery,” and “newness” about it.  The consuming drive for professorial job security through tenure, the embracing of the myth of detached and unemotional “objectivity,” the confusion of deep and lasting learning with tests and grades, the acceptance of a classroom “amateurism” that rests on copying and perpetuating the old ways, the creation of a sterile and risk-free atmosphere, the demand for submissive and conforming institutional accreditation, the desire to reduce the teaching and learning process to a factory-like production line, the placement of classroom teaching low on the totem pole in spite of high sounding mission and evaluation statements, and the quest for renown through research and publication are not conducive to stimulating classroom creativity and imagination by either teacher or student.  All they do is breed larger herds of sacred cows.  Maybe that’s why Einstein is purported to have said that it’s a miracle when curiosity survives formal education.

I don’t know, diary.  How do we expect students to change if we resist change?  How do we expect them to experience personal development, if we can’t face similar emotional challenges?  How do we expect them to pay the emotional price and take the risk to grow, when so many of us won’t?  How do we expect students to have new experiences if we cling desperately to the old ways which may be tried, but research is increasingly proving they’re not true?   Diary, am I naive?  Maybe, but just think about this before anyone bring me up before an academic inquisition to accuse me of heresy and ask for me to be burned at the stake.  What if physics professors in 2011 teach and do research using only Newtonian mechanics, ignoring the 20th century breakthroughs beginning from the discovery of quantum theory in 1905?  What if biology professors in 2011 teach and do research ignoring the breakthroughs from the discovery of DNA?   What if medical schools trained doctors relying only the idea of spontaneous generation, ignoring the germ theory of disease developed in the 19th century and the use of antibiotics developed in the 1940s?  What if chemistry professors relied on alchemy rather than the discoveries beginning with Dalton’s atomic theory?   Sound like ridiculous questions?  I don’t think so.  After all, that’s exactly what the overwhelming majority of professors do when it comes to the classroom teaching and learning.  Let’s be honest, if we have the courage.  Most academics operate in the classroom with distorted, inadequate, outdated, information about teaching and learning.  Most are neither studying nor applying the emerging knowledge we’ve gained about learning in just the last twenty or more years.  In a way, with all our moves for assessment, accountability, and answerability based on outworn criteria of what is considered valid data about learning, we’ve become more ignorant about the real students than ever before, more out of touch with the real individual student, and the gaps between what we do and what we should be doing grows ever wider.   Enough for today.

Louis

CHINA DIARY, HAPPINESS

Zhengzhou, Wednesday morning, June 1. Diary, after celebrating National Children’s Day with a bunch of Chinese K-8 students I’m leaving for the States to be with my Susan.  I’m biting at the bit to be with her.  I felt a heavy weight  lift from my shoulders and soul as soon as I changed my flights to head home early.  I have to admit it has been a yin and yang experience in China this year.  On one hand, I am glad, maybe ecstatic, I am helping students expand their world by entering another culture’s world and realizing we different peoples at our essence aren’t really different and are all members of the same world.  On the other hand, I was not a happy camper that I was not at Susan’s side tending to her unexpectedly extended post-operative needs.  But, you know, diary, during my three day travel from Valdosta to Zhengzhou I realized something:  yearn as I might for better times, I was building a wall around me insuring that nothing good was going to come in or go out.  Yearning leads to nothing more than more yearning, unhappiness leads only to additonal unhappiness, regret begets only more regret.  I ask you, diary, what time is ever idyllic?  When I look for things to complain or to be sad about, I’ll find plenty; when I look for things to be joyful about, I’ll also find plenty.  It’s just a matter of what kind of world do I want to live in: a weighty, self-centered, and self-pitying world fraught with annoyance and frustration and resignation and regret and sadness, or an uplifting caring and serving world filled with opportunities for joy, fulfillment, and significance.  My attitude in every moment defines what I am seeking. And what I seek, is what I find.

I can choose to find happiness now in any way and anywhere with whomever I choose.  Any reality in my life begins with on what I focus, and if I use the power of my focus to focus on reasons to be happy, I will see those reasons and be happy.  I can see empty or fulfillment, poverty or richness, where and when I am.  It’s always my choice.  Instead of focusing solely on not being with Susan, I can focus on having been here to help John, Dominique, James, Rachel, Liz, Dylan, Casey, Ngoc, Leigh Anne, and Erin.  What I’m trying to say, diary, is that while life can be tough on me, I don’t have to be so tough on myself;  that while I can’t hold back the winds, I can be a windmill to harness the power of the wind and be electrifying; that while I can’t stop the sun from rising or setting, I can fill each day with a rich and significant meaning.  There’s a lot I can’t control, but there’s a lot I can.  I can control whether I’ll be anywhere other than in this “here and now;” whether I’ll live with care, with faith, with love, and with a positive purpose no matter where I am and no matter what may come; whether I’ll see and bring a uniqueness and beauty to today; and, whether I’ll do significant things and make a difference.

But, diary, keep this in mind, as Helen Keller said, no pessimist or sad sack ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit.  Diary, to those who want to be happy with life in general and with whatever they’re doing with that life in particular, I say there’s nothing magical to it, and there’s nothing saintly about it:  just work, live to serve others, and have an upbeat heart.  Live as if the entire world depends on you, act knowing that all that you think, all that you do, and all that you are, truly matters, for it goes far beyond you and makes the world what it is.   It’s called “caring,” “relationship,” or “community.”

You know, diary, it is said that when human beings are caring for each other, angels are born.  The clerics have always told us that.  The philosophers have always told us to connect with others.  They both have always told us that we are social beings, that service to others is the payment we make to live in this world.  It is the very purpose of life and everything we do in life, not something we do in our charitable spare time.  It’s about your life mattering to the world as well as to you.  They quiet your mental chatter, settle your emotional turbulence, and weaken your fears; they brighten your mood; they instill joy; they open you up to new experiences; they expand each of your moments; and, they give life extra-special meaning.

Is this “feel good” stuff?  You’re doggone right!  And, we shouldn’t demean it, for now the latest neuroscience is telling us the same thing:  we’re hardwired to connect, and to connect in a caring way.  It’s the philosophy, religion, and hard neuroscience of a caring, connected, and serving relationship.  Caring and connection and service.  In a primal way, they offer comfort and safety and peace of mind–and happiness.  They keep strong the cycle of life.  They keep your soul alive.  They’re about a transcendent purpose that roots your life in something greater than yourself.  They’re about cultivating generosity and gratitude.  They are about waking up each morning asking yourself what you can do significant today and looking for ways you can help those in the world with you.  They do magic to your face and wonder to your eyes and amazement to your actions; they anchor your faith, stir your love, and endow significance upon you.  They make you beautiful.  Where caring and connection and service are, there are miracles.

Those miracles, however, come in incremental reflective, faithful, hopeful, and loving steps on a demanding journey from who we are now to who we want to become; they don’t just fall into your lap unless you move your lap to where they’re falling.  I say demanding because we evolve and look at ourselves as we help others evolve, and the process of facing such scary unknowns needs all the love and empathy, all the tenderness and watchfulness, all the strength and courage, all the sympathy and support and encouragement we can muster.   And, if we think it’s not in the doing it, if we think we don’t have to roll up our sleeves, we’ll remain little more than wasteful dreamy Jiminy Cricket wishers upon a star.  I say reflective and faithful because we have to ask ourselves four questions.  First, what do we want from whatever we do, which in my case is teaching; second, what is the purpose of it all; third, are we happy at what we’re doing; and finally, how can we be either happy or happier.  I say hopeful because now is not all there is, that there is always more to come, that there are always steps to be taken, and that when we take that step, there will be something better beyond  And, I say loving because, as Confucius said, “Always and in everything let there be reverence.”  That is, diary, you have to abide by the Golden Rule, respect and care for yourself in order to have the energy and strength to respect and care for others, and understand that berating yourself or anyone is like defacing a sacred page of scripture with graffiti .  Gotta finish packing and getting ready to see my angel.

Louis

CHINA DIARY, RESPECT

Here I am sharing my last 2011 China Diary entry first:

Thursday, June 2.  It’s about five hours into a Delta flight somewhere over the Pacific, leaving China five days before the Study Abroad Program is concluded.  The classes at Zhengzhou University are completed; I’ll just miss out on the winding down days in Zhengzhou and the “goings on” in Shanghai.  I had no choice.  I had to be at my Susan’s side.  If you had heard her voice on Monday, you would have understood.  My Susan’s recovery from her unexpected back surgery had not been as easy, smooth, and relatively quick as the surgeons had sworn assuringly up and down it would be.  I had delayed my departure for China by a week  and missed the “touristy” stuff with the students in Beijing so I could care for Susan during the first two weeks of her recovery; I had arranged for our sister-in-law to come to help Susan during the  third week; I had my two sons on call if anything awry should arise in my absence; and, our neighbors and friends assured me that they’d look after her as they did.  So, reluctantly, with Susan’s assurance that all would be well, I left for China and met up with the students for classes at Zhengzhou University.   For the next three weeks I was in China, but I wasn’t.  I wasn’t my true self.  I wasn’t with the students all the time; Susan was never at any moment far from me in my heart and mind.  I don’t want to see what our telephone bill will be.  But, diary, I tell you now, I feel guilty about what Susan went through “alone.”  In my defense, if there’s one, had I known then what I know now about what course Susan’s recovery would really take, I wouldn’t have left her at all; I would have said the hell with the program, screw the salary, and the students would have had to learn a lesson in how to hit life’s curve balls.  Nothing–NOTHING–comes before my Susan.  So, after listening to her voice last Sunday, without a hesitation or regret, as soon as I hung up I was on the phone with Delta.  With their understanding and help, I changed my flights home, arranged to fly from Zhengzhou to Shanghai on China Southern, and said my good-byes to the students.  That’s what soul mates are supposed to do.  I’m flying so high I don’t need this plane to get to Susan’s side.  I’m so excited that I’ll now be able to care for her and do for her, I have to admit that I have tears in my eyes and my hands are shaking at this moment. And, if you had listened to the excited joy in her voice, when I told her I was coming home early, you’d know what I mean.

So, diary, to settle me down, I’ve been going over class stuff in order to come up with final grades.  I’ve been reading student daily journals from both classes for the last couple of hours.  More than a few were very personal anguished entries about feeling disrespected, of being devalued or being diminished or having to surrender and submit to demands imposed by someone else’s words or behavior, of fear of the consequences of going or not going along to get along with the crowd.  As the agonizing words of these entries caught my heart, something was coming through them that triggered memories a very brief Q/A we had with the general manager, Simon Yip, of the Coca Cola bottling company in Zhengzhou, one of the largest throughout all China.  So, I stopped reading after one particularly tearful entry, put the journal down, leaned back, thought, and pulled you out to jot down these words to you.

We were touring the bottling plant.  The tour guide’s presentation had to be translated by the leader of our program since she didn’t speak any English. It was tedious not only because of the time it took to translate her words, but because she had a script designed mainly for Chinese k-12 students and wouldn’t veer from it for American college students.  Then, serendipity stepped in.  By chance, Simon Yip, happened to walk by.  Seeing who we were, especially since he had once worked for Coca Cola in Atlanta, he graciously stopped to give us a very insightful talk about the workings of the plant.  In the course of his talk, he mentioned, as had been emphasized to us by the guide at the beginning of the tour, that while the machinery of the production line was the same machinery used by all bottlers, we could not take photographs through the glass windows from our vantage point.   I later asked that if the production line held no industrial secrets, why couldn’t we take photographs for the folks back home.  His answer was interesting,  “We want to respect the feelings of the workers on the floor who might feel uneasy about having their picture constantly taken by strangers.”  At first I was skeptical of his response.  But, the more I thought about it, the more I thought how I would feel about constantly having gawking strangers taking photographs of me as if I was an animal in a glass cage; the more I saw how respectful Mr. Yip was of his workers feelings, and the more I respected Mr. Yip.  Feelings.  Respect.  Worth.

Diary, if I remember my Carl Jung, he once said something to the effect that what irritates us about others, about others that “makes me….,” tells us everything about ourselves and nothing about others, and with some strength and courage can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.  And, now that I think about it, I think the spark of that irritation, and the root of something that is often far more than mere annoyance, is the danger and threat of feeling worthless, demeaned, devalued, diminished, dehumanized by others.

Mr. Yip hit upon something in his plant that is the most insidious and least acknowledged issues on our campuses.  We talk about the mechanics of an academic production line:  scholarship, research, tenure, promotion, student load, class size, lectures, tests, grades, GPAs, evaluations, syllabi, awards, scholarships, and a host of other trappings.  We don’t talk about the “people things,” about both our and the students’ struggle to feel appreciated, worthy of notice, valued, believed in, hoped about, loved.   Most students are expected to check their feelings at the door when they come to class.  We academics are expected, as one professor once told me, to keep our dirty laundry out of the classroom.  It’s that unreasonable and non-human “being objective” thing.  And, too many, far too many believe they and we can be that dehumanizingly robotic.  But, try as they might, students can’t.  Just make a trusting and caring relationship with them, have them journal, and you’ll see as do I.  Heck, try as we might, we can’t.  How we’re feeling — and most especially whether or not we feel acknowledged and appreciated — influences our behavior, consumes our energy, and affects our decisions all day long, whether we’re aware of it or not.  The students’ core emotional needs, our core emotional need, is to feel valued. Without that stabling sense of worth, they and we don’t know who they and we are, and both they and we don’t feel safe.

The latest neuroscience tells us that the need to be valued, to feel secure, is primal and a matter of survival.  It’s about relationships, trusting and loving and supportive and encouraging connections.  Students all crave being valued to such a degree they will risk everything to attain and maintain it:  test scores, course grades, GPAs, self-respect, self-esteem, self-confidence.  Why do we think that students give priority to joining sororities and fraternities, to belonging to sports teams or theater troupes or bands and symphonies; and, yes, even to partying, to hooking up, to having boyfriends or girlfriends, to fearing breaking up and being “single.”  I will go out on a limb and say, to feel valued, to feel valuable, to be seen, to be heard, to be needed, to be loved, to be believed in, to have hope for, is all that matters.  It is almost as necessary as our need for food.  We all, degrees and titles and resumes not withstanding, have this need of food for our souls as well as food for our tummies.  The more anyone’s value is threatened, the more preoccupied  that person becomes with seeking it, defending it, regaining it.  The problem is that in doing so that person too often goes along to get along, sacrifices self-respect, surrenders independence to that “what will they think” thing, and lessens the value of him/herself and her/his capability of doing something significant in this world.

How many students, how many of us, connect the dots between being valued and performance, be it in the form tests, grades, GPAs, tenure, promotion, title, or length of resumes?  It’s the rare student or faculty member or administrator who does.  I submit that it’s not an either/or situation.  It’s an “and.”  We can be demanding or tough with academic requirements and performance while being tender with people.  It’s what I and others call “tough love.”  And, the more tender we are, the more empathetic we are, the greater the possibility of achievement.  Great teachers, great leaders, top-notch executives are empathic; they’re sensitive to the deep need to feel valued in others for one reason and one reason only:  they first recognize and accept the same need in themselves. They don’t hold on to or elevate their own value by stepping over the bodies of others, by attacking the value of others;  they don’t depend on others for their own sense of value, even when they’re are ignored or attacked or deeply criticized.  No, they have amassed an arsenal gathered by the answers to three questions.  First, why do I feel my personhood or professional-hood is at stake; second, is it really at stake; and finally, how do I forge an armor to protect my value without demeaning or attacking the very person or persons I feel are trying to drag me down.

Our challenge is not to be a helpless victim, but to take matters into your own hands, to always to have core sense of value in spite of what anyone else says, to empathize with ourselves, to have a compassion for ourselves.  After all, we trigger ourselves; we interpret the words and behavior of others; we choose how to feel about all that.  As we can assume the responsibility for our own worth rather than blame others for feeling worthless, we’ll value others, have an empathy for others, and have compassion for others.  And, they will have a shot at accomplishing more.  Enough for now.  More later, diary.  Now, it’s back to the journals.

Louis