THE “TEACHER’S OATH,” V

       I interrupt my reflections on my “Teacher’s Oath,” to bring you an “assignment” from an e-colleague at a mid-western university with whom this is first contact.
        “Dr Schmier, I don’t have time to read all that you write.  So, could you please shorten and boil down the ‘Teacher’s Oath’ to one line.”
I replied in telegram fashion, “Know what to overlook.”
       Actually, I cheated and didn’t abide by her rules.  I gave her a second and then a third follow-up line of what to do with the Oath.  I added.  “And, to paraphrase St. Francis of Assisi, preach the Oath at all times and only when necessary use words.  Remember, the classroom is like a canyon that echoes back what you do.”
      Maybe this wasn’t an interruption after all.  Yeah, let’s make this the fifth segment of my reflections on the Oath.
Louis

The “Teacher’s Oath,” IV

I know.  I reflecting and sharing a bit more than usual, but in my defense I’m off during our stupid two days “Fall Break, and I’m getting myself in the groove for presentations at Georgia Southern and Lilly-Oxford in November.  Anyway, the discussion between me and this professor at Lilly-North continued.
“There’s a sign on my office door under an old Halloween skull and crossbones,” I told her.  “It’s my unofficial slogan.  It says ‘Danger!  There is love in this office.’  Yeah, I know.  It sounds airy, but it is at the core of my ‘Teacher’s Oath’ and it, like the Oath, makes me reflect every day on its meaning with everything I feel, think, and do….”
In the course of our conversation, I told her that the Oath says ten things to me:
First, each student, like each one of us, is a “glorious mess.”  And, the more we sense the value of each student the more we realize our responsibility to her or him, as well as our willingness to deal with that “mess.”  Whatever fills our awareness most intensely is what we will bring into the classroom.  So, it asks us to put our faiths, beliefs, hopes, and love into action.
Second, it subtly asks us to widen our perspective by asking us to put ourselves in a student’s shoes, to look through her or his perspective, to struggle to know and understand what she or he is feeling, to get to her or his inner life, make sense of that, and to appreciate that perspective.
Third, we have to act on that empathy by deciding what we’re teaching for.  The Ivory Tower is a world of constant tensions between classroom teaching on one hand and scholarly research and publication on the other.  That tension shows up constantly in the continual battle for time, attention, and resources.  The problem is that we tend to stick with our strengths and knowledge, and our strengths and knowledge are in our training as researching scholars.  But, if we are to be both teachers and scholars, we have to learn new skills needed for teaching partly by having guides to that new learning.  Change and growth, and all that it entails, is the result of true, deep, and lasting learning.  That is true for us no less than it is for students.
Fourth, you have to deeply reflect and articulate what you do and want.  That means you have to define and explain your terms.  You can’t rely on empty, non-descript “oh, you know what I mean” words, or “flypaper” words to which you can attach any definition and meaning which are so often written into high-sounding, but meaningless and ignored mission statements.
Fifth, you have to have a sense what you future will be, what it will look like, and what it will take to create it.  I mean, imagine each class in which you perceive all students are capable and thereby work to create a “growth mindset” in the spirit of Deci, Amabile, Goleman, Boyatiz, Dweck and a bunch of others.
Sixth, you can’t be blinded, deafened or bound by all those labels we tend to slap on ourselves and students or by the proverbial boxes in which we place ourselves and students.   You have to enthusiastically and purposefully accept students for the unique individuals who they are and have a belief in who they each can become.
Seventh, you have align your actions with your intentions.  You can’t play it safe and use an academic condom to practice fearfully only “safe teaching.”  To do that, you have to get into your own growth mindset that lets go of the things in the past that are whispering obstructions of “I can’t” and “I’m not” and “I’m not comfortable with;”  you got to live in the positive “I wonder if” present by learning and experimenting and practicing; and finally, you have to create “let’s go for it” new stuff, new perspectives, new methods, adapt new technologies for your future.
Eighth, like any good leader, you accomplish your goals through students developing and using “must have” interpersonal skills:  communication and persuasion and inspiration.  Live the Oath and, when necessary, in the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi, use words.
Ninth, you have to acknowledge that while you serve others it’s about you and no one else. You have to invest in yourself.  You have to take the jump, take the risk, and do it because it won’t get done by itself or my mere wishing.  You can’t just wish to be a teacher or better teacher.  You have to put time, energy, and attention into getting it done.  You have to stop wishing upon a star and start doing.  You have to be a myth buster, attacking the key fable that says “if you know it, you can teach it.”
And finally, it so sharpens your eyes and ears, your awareness, your sense of otherness that you realize the classroom as a whole and each individual student are in a state of constant and dynamic change to which you must incessantly adapt, shift, adjust, and adopt anew.  To do that, you have to set priorities:  what you can do first and immediate, every day, and what will take a while to develop.
We kept on talking.  So, there’s more to come.
Louis

THE “TEACHER’S OATH,” III

So, as I was saying, I was talking to this professor after my presentation at Lilly-North about professors assuming responsibility for shaping the way they and students see education in general and the classroom in particular.  Our continued exchange went something like this:

“Keep in mind,” I told her, “believing is seeing; you have to believe in each student in order to see her or him.  That’s what living the ‘Teacher’s Oath’ helps you to do.  You can put yourself in an inspired, encouraged, enthusiastic and effective place.  You become the message.”

She thought for a few seconds and then said with a somewhat unenthusiastic tone, “You’re asking me to change everything?”

“No,” I quickly answered.  “If you’re thinking in those terms, nothing will happen.  It’s too much.  You’d have wide-eyed REM with your mind, heart, and eyes darting back and forth so rapidly everything would be a blur; you’d never be able to fix on anything or anyone.  You’d be quickly overwhelmed.  Yes, you do have start changing the code of your actions, but, no, “everything” would be too hard to do and too easy not to do.  No, I’m talking about starting with just ‘one important thing;’ I’m saying to start changing only that which you can change:  yourself.  But I’m also saying start to rebalance by being patient with yourself and taking just one small step, remembering, as I always say, a small step on a great journey is not small.  That being the case, what would that that ‘one important thing’ be for you?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve got so many ‘important’ things on my plate.  I feel so rushed so much of the time, running around from one thing to the next.  I have to do so many things at once.  You have no idea.  I’m so tensed up and worry all the time that I’m not doing everything I have to do.  Remember, I don’t have tenure yet.  I don’t know what that ‘one important thing’ is.”

“I think you do.”

“What’s that?”

“You just said it.  ‘So much;’ ‘so rushed;’ ‘running around;’ ‘so many things.’  Concentrate on that, on stop–slowly–being frenetic and frantic and panicky, on relaxing, just on that one thing.  If nothing else, calm down, take a deep breath, slow down, listen to the silence, look around and inside,  and smile at everything you have and are.  I bet everything else would slowly improve.   You know what I do?  I take a deep, coma-like, twenty minute, refreshing, and recharging power nap every day.  And, when I begin to feel that energy starting to pent up and the angst building up, I clear my mind by “wandering aimlessly” about the campus or through my garden talking to my flower or sitting silently by the koi pond or doing whatever it takes to get away…..I know.  Some people would find that hard to do as if they were wasting valuable time.  But, it is an appreciating ‘be present in the present’ rewarding, refocusing, revitalizing experience.  And, that was my ‘one big thing’ a few decades ago immediately after I had my epiphany, and has been ever since.  But, I didn’t stop or turn on a dime.  Slowly, I did become audacious and my god what surfaced. I established a new value system for myself even if it ran counter to that of the Ivory Tower.  I shed the skin of the scholar-professor; I became a loving teacher.  But, you know, I discovered what my life would be like as I made the breakthrough change.  And, as I worked that change, I felt more honest with myself; I relaxed; the pressure eased; the risk taking experimentation increased; I listened more; talked more; reflected more, sat by the fish pond more, gardened more, cared more deeply, judged less, bemoaned less, enjoyed each student more fully, took more risks, thought less about what others thought, had less fear, worked in my flower garden more, felt less a failure, got more confident, acquired more balance, got more thoughtful, got stronger self-esteem, got less frustrated and disappointed, became more aware, sharpened my sense of otherness, saw more keenly, choose better on what to focus and what to ignore, took more small steps, and tried less to make leaps and bounds.  In fact, all that has culminated in my slow shift from ‘professor to ‘teacher’ and in developing the ‘Teacher’s Oath.’  I know, it’s so counter-intuitive.  The more relaxed I got and the more I slowed down, the more effective I got and the more I loved each student; I gave each day in class and each student my full attention. Over the years, that quickly became second nature and reinforced my commitment to it.  It’s a balanced way of being that gives you a new way of doing.  You go at life from the inside out.  That’s where the ‘Teacher’s Oath’ comes in.  It translates caring into behavior, acting as a signpost to compassion.  It offers–adds–a set of moral norms as a counter weight, not as a replacement, to the often immoral imbalance of research and publication in academia that demands sacrificing students at the altar of resume and tenure; it introduces and adds the values of a ‘people business’ that should be academia’s undergird to a world that focuses on the business of information transmission, skill development, and credentialing; it demands the possession of emotional and social skills in a world that concentrates on intellectual skills.

“Even that small step is still asking a lot.”

“You wouldn’t accept that from a student; why accept it from yourself.  Think of it this way.  Achievement is built–slowly built–only built–on the long haul yin and yang of challenge, opportunity, obstacles, advances, setbacks, intentions, failures, commitment, falters, perseverances, uncertainties, dedications and devotions, difficulties, desires, frustrations, distractions, focus, plain ole slogging through it hard work, and above all, wanting to do something significant and to make a positive difference.  The ‘Teacher’s Oath’ can be used to offer all this and more because as you build achievement, as you improve the lives of students, I assure you, it builds you and enriches yours life as well….”

We talked still more.  So, still more later.

 

Louis

THE “TEACHER’S OATH,” I

Rainy.  Sipping coffee on the porch.  Thinking of something David Brooks wrote a few days ago that lives are structured by sacred oaths.   That column took me back to  Lilly-North a couple of weeks ago.  The theme of the conference was “Brain Based Learning and Teaching.”  My presentation took it one step further from brain-based to heart-felt learning and teaching.  The formal title of my presentation was “You Attitude Towards Students Really Counts.”  It centered around my “Teacher’s Oath.”  Afterwards, I had a lengthy discussion with an attendee about the Oath.  Since that conversation, I’ve been reflecting some more on what the Oath means to me.  This is what I’ve come up with so far.

I have already shared the Oath, admittedly with some hope it would be adopted by others.  It is a personal vision of the meaning and purpose of an education as well as of classroom methods that I have painstakingly developed through nearly two decades of scholarly study and exploration in life.  The Oath, however, isn’t just a bunch of statements; it isn’t just a set of attitudes;  it isn’t just a set of  feelings towards others; it isn’t just a guiding set of rules of behavior; it isn’t just a visionary roadmap; it isn’t merely a set of life’s goals.  The Oath is all of this–and more.  It really is how education should work.  It’s a way to see the potential in each and every student.  It’s a way to question why we do things the same old way.  It’s a way for me to design my own life and teaching.  You see, I don’t just live by the Oath; I live in the Oath.  It’s my identity as a teacher.  My experience and personality are ingrained in that Oath; my visions, dreams, ventures, hopes, failings, faiths, daring, stumblings, beliefs, commitments, passions, demons, journeys, loves, dedications are intimately connected to my life’s vision, view of education, and approach in the classroom.   I make no bones about that.  But, it’s not an anomaly.  When anyone of us walks into a classroom we are making a statement about who we are and what or who we value.  After all, we are all we can imagine, all we hope, all we love, all we can serve, all you we create, all we can dare, and all we can become.  So, sure, the Teacher’s Oath is a personal vision.  But, there’s nothing wrong with that.

To embrace the Oath is challenging call to action.  First,  it’s a habit breaker and maker.  Our habits are our habits only because we keep choosing to accept, support, and defend them.  The way we are is the way we believe we are. Change what we believe about ourselves, and we are forced to change habits.  Second, the Oath puts people with all of their individual complexity at the educational center.  It says students are people before they’re students. Third, it says that in the age of educational blah technology should be in an excited age of humanity.  It demands we be defiantly and inspirationally humanistic, that we teach by meaning, recognizing that we and students are human, that we and they have personal, rational, cultural, and emotional dimensions.  Fourth, the Oath asserts that the educator is not at the core of the academic thing; the transmitted information is not the critical academic thing; the tinkering with technology is not the magical academic thing; all this brain research is not the panacean educational thing.  While they are all critical, it is the person you value, the person you serve with all this knowledge and ability and insight that is the buzz of the academic thing:  the individual–INDIVIDUAL–student.  Fifth, it asks that our expertise be in people as much as, if not more than, in scholarly research, knowledge, and technology.  Sixth, it asks for a push back of “herdish,” impersonal, faddish, “junk pedagogy” that is obsessed with technology and assessment, that touts instant achievement over the more arduous gradual process of learning, that allows the untrained and uninformed–those who have little if any learning in the ways of teaching and learning–to train and inform the untrained and uninformed, that allows efficiency to trump effectiveness, that promotes earning a living to blot out living the good life, and that misses the bigger educational story.   Seventh, it addresses a disease in academia that is rampant in epidemic proportions:  anyone with a higher degree, a lengthy scholarly resume, a professional renown, or some outside expertise is convinced she or he can be an effective teacher.   Eighth, it asks you to have a grasp of the “big picture” and a mastery of the classroom details.  Ninth, in a world that prides itself on being inhumanly cold, unemotional, distant, detached, disengaged, weeding-out, objective, and at times feared, the Oath blocks the signals those attitudes send by requiring an engagement, friendliness, nurturing, emotionalism, and subjective humanity. Tenth, it asks you to get yourself out of your own way on the way from impossible through improbable, to difficult, to possible, to inevitable, and then to actual–for both you and them.  It demands we open windows to breakthroughs within each student rather than merely holding up mirrors to our professional self-regard, for nothing distracts and restricts academics more than the quest for tenure, promotion, length of resume, and assessment.  And, finally, it doesn’t take me to the place where I or students are; it and it’s deep challenge is for us take ourselves to the places where we can be.

One last word on the Oath for now.  The Oath doesn’t ask me or anyone to invent or reinvent; it just asks us to reimagine, to thrive at the junction of the individual human being, knowledge, and technology.  There’s more, but enough for now.  Later.
Louis

A QUICKIE ON THE ESSENCE OF GOOD TEACHING

Someone at the Lilly Conference on College Teaching in Traverse City came up to me towards the end of the conference.  She asked me, “My brain is bursting with everything I’ve heard.  I’m trying to make sense from a bunch of different voices on different thing.  Simply it for me.  Can you tell me that one thing I should know about good teaching that makes sense of all this?’

I looked her with a feeling I was just blind-sided with an unannounced pop-quiz, “One thing?  That ties together all the sessions?  Am I cooking up a reduction sauce for teaching?”
She smiled, “I’m serious.  Help me.  One thing!  One thing I can take away with me from this conference.”
 I thought for a bit, then answered, “‘Good enough’ is not good enough.”
Louis