I normally don’t do this, but many of you have asked about sources I can refer them to that were useful in my latest response to Barbara.  Instead of rattling off a series of repetitive answers that would ultimately numb my fingertips and wear out the keys, I thought I’d beg your indulgence and send out one message.  I hadn’t made any references because I was  recounting parts of my conversation with Barbara.  It would have been otherwise had I been sharing directly with you.  If I am intruding, I humbly and sincerely apologize.  So, here goes.  Well, as many of you know, I’ve been sharing my journey about changing my conversation with myself and others, “yes-ing” at the beginning of the day when I jump out of bed, as I enter new words into My Dictionary of Good Teaching, be awe-struck by the humanity of each student since the Spring of 1993, about 18 months after I had experience my epiphany, making reference to the hard science scholarship I had been studying and applying in my class, and there are over 1,000 RTs floating out there in cyberspace that can attest to that.  But, this time, if you want to put your finger on it all at once as a starter place, without hesitation I send you to the latest issue (July/August) of Spirituality and Health.  It just happened that I had been reading and contemplating a bunch of its pertinent short articles on wonderment and changing what one contributor calls “self-talk” that helped me frame some of my response to Barbara in a way a 19 year old, inexperienced at life, rising sophomore could better understand, think about, maybe accept, and possibly play with to keep her darkness and that which is around her at bay.  The magazine may not be academic for some of you, and making reference to it may lower my standing in your eyes, but I am, as one son says, a romantic realist, and, as the other says, a spiritualistic intellectual.  They both say I have my head in the clouds and my feet firmly planted on the ground.  That is as it should be.  The magazine is not “fluffy” or “new age-y,” at least not the particular articles I read and reflect upon.  Some articles deal with morality and ethics; some with spirituality.  For me, all that’s okay, for I firmly believe that our educational system should not just credential and prepare students to make a living; it should also “deepen lives,” offer a moral mindfulness, and provide guidance for a way of living that encourages ethical living, and help students become better people living good lives?  To that end, I will refer to anything that helps me promote an educated life that lives in harmony with an ethical life.    The magazine is one of those many sources   It has a bunch of neat contributors, university professors, some hard science researchers, and some degreed clinical practitioners that make it a good look.  And while some of it contains material that is not my cup of tea, many of the articles deserve a read.  At least, for me they do.

Louis

I went out for a swim on the streets this morning about 4:30 into the inky, humid darkness.  It wasn’t but a couple of blocks that I was wondering about Barbara.  A few days ago, Barbara had called–again.  This is just about how part of our conversation went.  Just don’t hold me to word for word.  “Barbara,’ I chuckled, “I’m starting to feel like  a blueberry bush that you feel you can pick over and over whenever you’re hungry.”

“You bet,” she answered with a counter-chuckle.  “I have a question for you, Schmier.  My teacher up here exploded on me because I answered something wrong and told me in class in front of everyone in no uncertain terms that I’m wrong to think I can be a teacher.  How the f*** would  he know.  He’s such a shit.  He’s not a real teacher even if he gives out the grades!

“So, where’s the question?” I interrupted.

“It was the look on his face and the disrespectful tone in his voice.  He made me think I didn’t think I have what it takes. I left the class in tears and have this sudden ‘what’s wrong with me’ feeling.”

“Did he make you think or ydid you make you think?”  I interrupted again.

“I know, but he’s always so cold and smileless and negative about us.  He picks on lots of others in the class.  Yesterday was my day.  What would you say to him?”

My simple, but challenging, answer was, “Nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing?”

I could hear her surprised and disappointed tone as she screeched in my ear.  “It’s not what I would say to him; it’s what I’m going to say to you.

“What’s that?”

“Just this.  Do what I tell you to do and then get back to me.  Go into your room tonight with some matches and a candle.  Close the drapes or blinds.  Turn off the lights.  No IPod.  Just sit there for a few minutes in the silent darkness.  Then, strike a match, look around, and blow it out.  Then, strike another match, light the candle, hold it, look around, and think.  Get back to me tomorrow and tell me what happened.”

“What?  I don’t get it.”

“Just do it.”

“You’re crazy.  But, I know you’ve got something up your sleeve.  Ok.”

We hung up.  Next day, Barbara called.  “What happened? I asked.

“I did what you told me to do.”

“And?”

“The room wasn’t dark anymore.”

“So what did you learn?”

She paused, and answered in the form of a question as if she was a contestant on Jeopardy,  “That the dark can’t stand up to even one small match or a lit candle?”

“And?”

Another pause. “That I am my own match and candle, and no one can snuff it out and put me into the dark except me?” she slowly and hesitatingly answer as another question.

“So?”

“So, I always have to light and keep my own candle lit to keep the dark away?”

“Lesson learned,” I calmly said.  “Now, I admit that’s not easy, especially day after day.  It’s like fighting a constant war against people who want to make you into someone who they want you to be, maybe even a war against yourself.  But, it’s worse if you admit defeat, stop believing who you are capable of becoming, let the fun and joy go out, let them or you snuff out your candle, and throw you into the dark.  That’s why you’re calling me, isn’t it, to light your candle for you after you let that professor snuffed out your flame?’

Silence.  And then a meek “Yes.”

“Well, I can’t.  You’ve got to do it.  I can offer you a match, supply the candle, and maybe even show you how to strike the match and put the flame to the wick, but in the end you’ve got to strike the match, light the candle, and keep it from getting blown out.  You’ve got to stop taking crap from yourself.  When you do, you won’t take it from anyone else.  Like I just read, you’ve got to change the conversation you have with yourself.  You’ve got to watch your words.  You’ve got to go from using negative, unflattering and unsupportive words to using positive, affirming, and encouraging ones.  You’ve got to strengthen yourself, and you do it one word at a time, one step at a time, one talk with yourself at a time, one day at a time, day after day after day.  And, while you’re doing that, remember what we said in class over and over and over again:  never forget that you are a human being; that means you’re a “human becoming;” and that a ‘human becoming’ is a ‘becoming being,’ not an ‘am being.’  I’m not sure you’ve lit an eternal inner flame to chase away the darknesses of your ‘I can’t’ or ‘I don’t know how’ or ‘It’s not me’ or ‘I don’t think’ or ‘He thinks.’  But, you can.  You can if you get yourself into a daily spiritual and emotional workout program, if you reach out and stretch again and again and again, if you venture out again and again and again, if you discover again and again and again.  You have to learn, improve, grow, and transform again and again and again.”

“How do I do that?”

“I was just reading about that.  Wonder.  That’s what I’ve done for years.  You wonder.  You wonder about yourself first and then or as you wonder about others.   You fill your ‘wonder-low’ or ‘wonder-empty’ gas tank until its ‘wonder-full.’  Then, watch what will happen to you.”

I went on to tell her what I’ve learned about wonder, that part of my epiphany twenty years ago was when I siphoned off my low octane “fear-full” tank and filled it up with energizing, high octane “fear-less” wonder, things took off.  In fact, “wonder” is a neat word to add to My Dictionary Of Good Teaching.   Wonder is a “what if,” a “why not,” a “let’s see” way to be guided by a fear less positive, confident, encouraging, and expanding ‘yes’ rather than go by a fear more, knee jerk, negative, constricting, cowering ‘no.’  Wonder, I told her, is a way of ‘yesing.’  Wonder is a remover of barriers and builder of bridges.  Wonder is a seed planter.  Wonder is an energy giver.  Wonder is a life giver to dreams.  Wonder is a penetrator.  Wonder is an enhancer.  Wonder hones in on the often overlooked.  Wonder transforms the ordinary into the meaningful.  Wonder cleanses, refreshens, and rearranges.  Wonder is a happy giver.  As someone said, it’s second only to loving, but it has all the elements of loving:  connection, passion, belief, kindness, faith, empathy, compassion, hope, joy, freedom.  It’s the art of deep observation and experience; it’s, as someone said, learning with passion and living with purpose, and enjoying every moment of it.  Wondering has the power of attentiveness, that is, of paying attention, of broadening your emotional and physical vision, of seeing rather than just looking, of listening rather than merely hearing, of engaging all your senses to take in all the details.  It places you in the here and now place.  It heightens being silent, being curious, being accepting, being embracing, being open, being aware.  It slows you down.  It “deblurs” and sharpens, allowing you to take all this in.   Wondering lights you up and banishes the darknesses of prejudice, judgment, and certainty.

So, as I told her, “Wonder makes you the original writer instead of merely a recording stenographer.  It makes you the playwright instead of the actor reading someone else’s lines.  Every morning I joyfully get up, as I’ve always said, with a “yes,” and wonder, ‘What am I going to experience today?’  ‘What will I give today?’  I ask myself, ‘What makes my heart sing and my spirit dance?’  ‘What makes me shine?’  Today, the answer to all those questions is your phone call, and the best gift I can give you at this moment is my time, my noticing, my attention, my caring.”

I told that she had to use wondering to do the same with herself, to grow into an understanding that will give her her own matches and candles: grow into confident light; grow into a vision; grow out of a rut; grow into changes; grow into improvements; grow into her imagination and creativity, grow into growing.

“This is where you were always coming from every day in class with everything you and we did,” she said. “It’s in your Teacher’s Oath and all that other stuff you sent me.”

“You got it.  Read them, think about them, feel them, live them.  And as you do, remember this and only this:  where your attention goes, so goes you; and, as someone said, wherever you go, there you are.  Your potential for being a great teacher is not where you are, but where you will go, where you will be, and who you will be.  Make ‘I wonder and’ ‘becoming’ and ‘can,’ not ‘am’ and ‘can’t,’ an uncompromising daily state of your heart.  Your mind and body will follow.  Do it with complete self-respect and respect of others; do it constantly so nothing and no one are neglected and excluded from your awareness of your surroundings, and is beyond your earshot, eyesight, and, above all, your heartsight.  Do it with passion and purpose, not merely with a ‘going through the motions.’ Get curious, get involved, get interested.  Be amazed, be enthusiastic, be loving, be happy, be serious.  When you raise yourself up, you raise up the whole world around you, just like the flame of a candle.  Do it and you’ll not only start going to the place of a great teacher, but you’ll also find the way to becoming a good person.  You know what?  To help you, I’m sending you a present.”

“What is it?” she giggled.

“Not telling.  Its something I want you to read–slowly–every day over and over and over again.  Each time read it as if it’s the first time you’re reading it.  Take every word to heart.  Take every word into your heart and soul.  Let every word seep into every fiber of your being.  And, screw whatever negative vibes your teacher up there or anyone else may send out.  Stop tuning into his negative frequency and that of others!  This reading will help you tune into your own positive frequency, help you find your own matches, help you light your own candle, help you become a ‘she-ro’ to yourself–and later to others.   Do that and no one–no one–not even you, can ever snuff out your candle and keep you in the dark.

And, we talked some more.  And, then I went back to my flowers.  Oh, by the way, my present to Barbara is a copy of Dr. Seuss’  Oh, The Places You’ll Go.  

So, on this Father’s Day afternoon, as I was laying in some Chocolate Chip Ajuga in the backyard rose bed both for beautification and to combat the weeds, my cell phone rings.  I thought it was one of my sons finally wishing me a happy Father’s Day.  It wasn’t.  It was a weedy call from an upset professor who was obviously not a father.  On a Sunday!  On Father’s Day!  A telephone call!  “….I don’t appreciate what you said about how we should care…You are a romantic dreamer,” she said, among other things, in a firm and less than quiet, collegial tone.  “As I read your message, I just wanted to scream at you.  I’ve tried everything.  I care, but they don’t.  And, if they don’t, I’ve decided why should I.  Nothing works with these lesser students.  I’ve wanted to scream at them.  Instead, I’ve just thrown up my hands.  It’s so frustrating and it’s just not worth my time and effort.   I don’t have tenure, so I just don’t have the time to spend on them.  I’ve got more important things to do than waste my time on students who are not appreciative of what I’m trying to do.  No matter what you say, from now on I’ll just focus on the good students who want to be here and with who I can accomplish something so I have time to do the research and publishing I need to get tenure.  And don’t tell me….”

I politely listened and politely told her that I am not telling anyone what to do.  After, we hung up, I went back to my Ajuga, shaking my head.  This morning, too achy for a walk, I wrote a response to that intrusive call.  But, always following the dictum, “when you’re upset write the first letter and then tear it up,” So, I got it out of my system, erased it from the computer and put it out of my head–kinda.  This is now my response:  “I think we have to raise our words, not our volume.  Someone said, I don’t remember who, that flowers grow because of the gentle rain, and not because of the thunder and lightning.  And, it is only because we love and care about each student unconditionally–unconditionally–that we see the classroom is so full of many wondrous people.  Now, it’s okay not to care for what a student does or does not do, but that has little to do with sincerely caring about her or him.  And, it is because of that sincere caring that we dig in for the long haul and continue the fight however much a student her/himself may have surrendered her or his self-respect, self-confidence, and enthusiasm, remembering that a deeply rooted habit isn’t easily or quickly pulled up,.  When I used to blame, I found it so easy to backdown and walk away without thinking of the denigrating “I don’t believe it,” “I can’t do this” or “I don’t want to do this” or “It’s not worth it” messages such disengagings and retreatings sent to myself and others.  When I started taking responsibility, I saw how my uplifting ” I believe,” “I am able,” “I really want to,” and “It’s worth more than most anything else” fired me up, strengthened my self-confidence, engaged and connected me, deepened my commitment, buttressed my resolve, and took me to whole new level of effectiveness and achievement.  I’ve learned from my experience, both personal and professional, to paraphrase the Sufi teacher, Rumi:   don’t look for how to care sincerely, but seek, find, confront, and tear down all barriers we build within ourselves against truly caring.  Because of that, as was the case of my epiphany in 1991, I had to take emotional shower after shower after shower to wash myself off myself.  So, I have three stories for you to think about.  I use them as my cleansing, take responsibility, “excuse-busters” whenever I feel an dirtying, blaming “ugh” coming on.

The first is a Sufi story.  It goes like this:  The a Sufi teacher once tested the patience and sincerity of his students.  He deliberately had entered a wildly whirling mystical state and was locked up as a madman.  His shocked disciples came to visit him.  The teacher asked in apparent bewilderment, ‘Who are you?’

‘We are some of those who love and follow you,’ they answered in surprise.

The teacher suddenly began throwing small stones at his students. This is not the ingratitude they expected.  Shocked, they quickly began to run away.  Crying with discouragement, frustration, and even anger, they exclaimed,  ‘It’s true. Our teacher really has gone crazy.  He has lost his way.  We can no longer learn from him.  He is no longer worth following.’

Then the teacher called out to them, ‘Didn’t I hear you say that you loved me?  You could not even bear a stone or two before running away.  What became of that sincere love you claimed you had for me?  Did your love fly away on a couple of hurled stones?  If you had really loved me, you would have patiently endured the little bit of discomfort I caused you.’

The second story is a Zen story, and it goes like this:  A man, farming on what appeared to be arid land, wanted to dig a water well to irrigate and nourish his crops.  A dowser came to him, told showed him the the proper tools and equipment he would need to dig the well and, using a diving rod, pointed him to a place he guaranteed the farmer would quickly and easily hit water, After laboriously digging down fifteen feet, the farmer found no water, got disheartened, and gave up.   As he was sitting by the dry hole in a less than happy mode, feeling he had wasted his time and energy, along came another man who laughed at him for being duped by the magical hocus-pocus of a “water witch,” and pointed to another place that he guaranteed would quickly and easily yield water. The man went over to that spot and dug, and dug, for about twenty feet.  Still no water.  Very tired and frustrated, in desperation, he finally took the advice of an old neighbor, who knew “these parts” and who assured him there was water at yet another place.  He dug and dug for about thirty feet.  Another dry hole.  Tired, sweaty, achy, scratched-up, dirty, and disgusted, he threw down his tools, exclaiming. ‘Why do I bother.  I’m wasting my time.  These tools are useless.  There is no water in this dry land my crops need to grow.’

A traveling Zen master heard him.  ‘You dig a well.  You find only rocks and dirt to move out of the way.  Stay in one place and go deeper and deeper there, move more and more rocks and dirt!  There is no sign of water until you reach it.  When you have removed enough rocks and dirt, the pure water will flow.’

The third story is from Native American lore, and it goes like this:   An old Cherokee is telling his granddaughter about a fight that is always going on inside himself. He said it is between two wolves. One is pessimistic, filled with dark negatives, condemnation, anger, envy, suspicion, sorrow, regret, greed, sadness, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, selfishness, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.  The other is optimistic, filled with bright joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, belief, happiness, humility, kindness, selflessness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The granddaughter thought about it for a minute and then asked her grandfather, ‘Which wolf wins?’

The old Cherokee simply replied, ‘The one I feed.’

I think I’ll leave my response at that”

Louis

Went out for a walk this morning.  When I go out on the streets, I go out into my quiet “zone.”   My walks are my form of silent mobile meditation, a rendezvous with my inner self, a stillness that is vital for reflection and appreciation, that quickly becomes a surreal and inspiring state of being.  I become totally silent, totally focused; time slows down; things go into slow motion; my mind stops churning; my heart and soul start stirring; I listen.   Did I say quiet and silent and still?  Silly me.  It’s a cardio-spiritual workout.   When I get into that state, my senses are sharpened.  I am alert, I am attentive, I am aware, I am attuned, I notice how the simplest sound can resound astoundingly: the distant chirping of a bird, the rustling of a leaf, the gurgling of a brook, a leftover raindrop slipping off a pine needle and hitting the asphalt, the slight movement of a squirrel, the sweet scent of a flower, the pounding cadence of my steps, the pulsating lubdub of my heart, the steady rush of air through my nostrils, the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest.  This morning, as always on my walks, I was reminded that the world is so full of happy, living sounds, sights, smells, touches, and tastes, but how many people hear, see, feel, and savor them, especially in the classroom?  I wonder how many people walk through a day out of shape, in an out-of-focus blur, dulled daze, and bland gaze?  If made me realize once again just what a miracle is.  It’s seeing, listening, feeling, and tasting for the first time that which is already inside, around you, and in others.  And, the catalyst for the hidden usual, appearing as an unusual, is caring.

Caring:  to talk or to walk. That is the choice:  defining what is at stake while shaping our conceptions of ourselves and each student.  We have infinite choices at our fingertips, every moment of our existence is the result of choice.  And, whatever choice we choose to make, we change, the world changes, and we alter the future.  You know, it’s very easy to carelessly say, “I care.”  Maybe it is just as easy to feign looking like you care.   Caring doesn’t need explanation or defense, for it speaks both from the non-rational wisdom of the heart and biological functioning of our brains.  Caring is unconditionally individualizing and humanizing, not “thingifying” or “objectifying,” each student.  Caring is unconditionally connecting, not separating and distancing.  Caring is not just what you say to a student’s face, but what you say about that student behind her or his back.  Caring is not condemning a student’s screw-ups just because they’re not like ours.  No, you’re not going to heal anything if you just apply a balm of empty words, glazed looks, and insincere going-through-the-motions motions.  Caring is having the physical strength, emotional stamina, spiritual endurance to help a student lift up her/himself, and help her or him carry her or his dream.  Caring is finding that place inside you where nothing is impossible.  Caring is giving a meaningful measure of your life unconditionally to help a student have a meaningful and rewarding life.  Caring is getting into your “zone” full of alertness, faith, attentiveness, hope, awareness, belief, otherness, love, and attune-ness as you walk on campus, enter the classroom, and stride through life.  Caring is intensely listening to, seeing, and reading the body language, facial expressions, vocal tones of each student.  It is a welding of vision and word and deed, a unconditional celebration of each student and her or his possibilities.  That’s crucial, for only when you believe the work you’re doing is a wondrous and meaningful and significant thing, when you feel the work wondrous and meaningful and significant, the work will be transformed into energized into joyful and meaningful purpose; it will no longer be laborious, but rather a proverbial labor of love.  The healthiest response in the classroom, or anywhere for that matter, is jubilation.

Sure, it is so much harder to actually walk care with sincerity and authenticity than to talk care, but you can always live the life you choose; you can choose each and every moment how to be; you can chose how to think, feel, and what to do with all the random, disturbing, uplifting occurrences that come your way.  If you sincerely care, you’ve got to be deeply and unconditionally committed to each student; you’ve got to be involved and engaged; you’ve got to be ready to be inconvenienced and uncomfortable; you’ve got to be emotional, maybe even a bit quirky or “nuts.”  To be caring, you’ve got to elevate a promise laced with belief and hope and love while you map out just whom it is you care about and how to care about her or him in order than they each care about themselves.  To be caring, you’ve got to stop trying to be perfect and looking for the perfect, but accept your fallibility and frailty as well as that of others.  To be caring, you’ve got to tear through the veils of perception and stereotype, challenge academic convention, break from the standard operating procedure of distant lecturing, clinical testing, and cold grading.  To be caring, you can’t conform and be like everyone else or worry about and let yourself be held back by what they will or will not think and do.  To be caring, you can’t sit around in a rocking chair, but rather you’ve got to be on-the-move.  To be caring, is to uncreate the boundaries academia has created according to degree, resume, title, position, and authority; you’ve got to think of yourself not as the academic scholar you were trained to be and them as students, but as a unique human being just like each student is.   And, yes, to be caring, you have got to be intensely focused on uncompromising service to others and uncompromisingly live by the answers to the questions,”How can I help? How can I help all those that I come into contact with?” In the answers to those questions, caring organizes and uses the mechanics of its own accomplishment and fulfillment.  And, to the measure you can do this, you then have a shot of experiencing that “aha” moment.

Does this sound dangerous and threatening?  Does it sound demanding?  It is!  Don’t like the perch out on the limb?  Want that middle-of-the-road?  As you answer, remember nine things.  First, down here by me in South Georgia, they say that the only thing in the middle-of-the-road is a yellow stripe and roadkill. We in academia are addicted–addicted–to a form of failure free welfare-ism that offers a protective life-long insurance policy agains mishap and misstep.  We are addicted–addicted–to safety over threat, security over discomfort, guarantee over risk, permission and approval over purpose and vision, compromise over dedication, comfort over inconvenience, familiarity over adventure, instant over trial-and-errot effort, stability over challenge, maintenance over innovation.  Second, you and I are can attempt the climb to our peak when we know we can trust others.  Students are no different.  When they know you are trustworthy, when they know you sincerely care, when they know you are their safety net, they will more likely come out from the hidden corners.  But, if they feel you don’t care, that you’re not there for them, that you’re one of “them,” they will spend their energy hiding, and that energy will exude in negative ways that sabotage both your efforts and theirs.  Helping students to start discovering their real self happens when they feel safe, noticed, valued, and cared about.  Third, for them and us, unconditional love, acceptance, belief, faith, empathy, validation, hope, support, and encouragement have everything to do with the level of performance and achievement.  Fourth, self-perceptions have everything to do with performance and achievement, and unconditional caring challenges students to ask “Why do you care?”  “What do you see in me that I don’t?”  There are so many students longing to be cared about.  They’re like fish desperately looking for water.   Fifth, instead of negatively seeing a “problem student,” why don’t we positively see an “opportunity student,” for we each are beings of potential.  Each of our negative thoughts wounds ourselves, the other person, our institution, and society.  And, you have to realize how important it is to wake each day with a song in your heart and soul rather than with a mournful dirge.  Learn that you don’t need happy things to happen in order to be happy  Sixth, the more you conditionally care, more you “could care less,” the less you do, the more your heart and soul suffer, and the less joy you experience.  Seventh, the class and each student reflect your moods, and your moods spotlight your perceptions, conceptions, and assumptions; and, they, in turn, influence your feelings, thoughts, and actions.  Eighth, education has a social purpose to help a student become a viable and contributing citizens and a better person, not just a drone-like credentialed worker.  And finally, you will be transformed by those whom you care about

Louis

Barbara just won’t leave me alone–thank goodness.  So, I was in my garden talking with the flowers when my cell rang.  It was Barbara asking, “You busy?”  I said goodbye to the flowers, sat down by the koi pond, and start chatting with her. We weren’t far into our conversation when she asked me,  “Dr. Schmier, don’t you get bored?  You say no one should think for a second that they can teach in their sleep.  And, if they think that way, they probably are asleep.  But, how can you not get at least drowsy.  You’ve taught that same class we were in over and over and over again, three or four times a semester, two semesters a year, for I don’t know how many years.”

“No, I haven’t,” I answered.

“What do you mean ‘No, I haven’t?'” she shot back.

I asked her, “How many times in class did I say ‘I haven’t done this before,’ or ‘Let’s see if this works,’ or ‘I’m using you as my guinea pigs?”

“But, they’re all the same course.  They’re all numbered the same!”

“So?”

“So?  They’re all identical. ”

“No, they’re not.”

“Don’t you do the same thing in all the classes, whether you’re experimenting or not?” she asked with a puzzled voice.

“No.  Just because they have the same course number doesn’t mean they’re the same,” I replied.

“How do you figure?”

“Simple.  What captures and holds my attention, what I focus on, to what and whom I give my undivided attention, what I model, all reflect who I am and what guides me.  My guide for every class is living that quote of the famous psychiatrist, Carl Jung, at the end of my piece, TO BE A TEACHER, that I sent you:  ‘You have to put aside your formal theories and intellectual constructs and axioms and statistics and charts when you reach out to touch that miracle called the individual human being.’  ‘The individual human being!!’  Let me put it this way.  You said during closure on the last day of class that you aren’t the same person who you were on the first day.  So, Barbara, you were changing from day to day as you were experiencing and learning in and out of class.  The same Barbara never came into the class on any two days even though she had the same name.  Now, multiply that by 140 to 180 other ‘Barbaras’ each semester.  I’ve got to keep on top of that development, growth, transformation, or whatever you want to call such change so I don’t fall into the trap of treating impressions and perceptions and assumptions about a student as knowledge of them.  The only thing identical about all these classes that have the same course number is their course number.  But, they are all different, if for no other reason the people in the class with me are different and constantly changing.  Each of those people have different dreams, goals, and stories.  They each have traveled different roads, carrying different amounts and types of baggage, dealing or not dealing with different issues, coming through different doors.   I can’t measures all students against the same criteria because that ignores the truth that each student is different with varied training, different self-perceptions, individual strengths and weaknesses, unique talents and potential, distinct likes and dislikes, and particular expectations and aspirations.”

“Then, who do you see,” Barbara asked.

“The individual, “the one,” the ever-changing one,” I answered.  “I see a class as a gathering of sacred, noble, unique, mysterious, wondrous, separate, distinct, changing ‘ones.’   I tell everyone that is the true diversity in the classroom and on our campus, for no two ‘ones’ are the same.  Each ‘one’ is at best a ‘variation on a theme.’  So, I never walk into the same class twice.  And, on top of that, each ‘one’ is changing at different paces each day.  Every class is an imperfect class.  Every class is an adjustment and an adaptation class.  Every class is an unlearning and learning class.  Every class is a breaking old habits and learning new ones class.  Every class is a risk-taking class.  Every class is a ‘let’s practice’ class.   Every class is a ‘I wonder what if’ class.  Every class is a ‘let’s see what happens’ class.  Every class is a complicated class.  Every class is a venture into the unknown.  Every class is a creative class.  Every class is an adventure class.  Every class is a journey class.  Every class is a mystery class.  Every class is a transformation class.  Every class is a ‘you never know’ class.  Every class is a wondrous class.  Every class is an unconditional faith in, belief in, hope for, and love of class.  You want to be a teacher, then remember all that and remember this:  you’re a pioneer of the future.  I’ll repeat that:  you’re a pioneer of the future.  Let me drive this home:  every class is humanity, a gathering of individual human beings like you, before it is a ‘students are’ generality or perception or stereotype; every class is humanity, a gathering of individual human beings like you, before it is theory; every class is humanity, a gathering of individuals human beings like you, before it is rules and regulations; every class is humanity, a gathering of individual human beings like you, before it is method and technique; every class is humanity, a gathering of individual human beings like you, before it is technology.  Never forget that you’re in the people business first.  Let me ask you this question:  Do you want to be respected as a special ‘Barbara’ or treated as an unnoticed, run-of-the-mill, faceless member of a crowd?”

“As Barbara. As who I am, someone special.”

“So does everyone else.  You’re must tenaciously teach to each and every student with unshakeable faith, unconditional love, bold courage, uncompromising expectation, unswerving faith, unending hope, excited ‘wow,’ and an eternal smile.  And, that’s why you have to be wide awake, totally aware, on your toes, on full alert with a keen seeing and listening and feeling of an intense ‘otherness;’ that’s why you have to become literate and be able–and willing–to read between the lines of their daily journals and behind their projects, their body language and facial expressions and vocal tones, and not just their issue papers and written responses to YouTube clips.  And, that’s why teaching is a deliciously challenging adventure on which you never sleep.”

“Oh, obeying the ‘TEN COMMANDMENTS OF TEACHING’ and the ‘TEACHER’S OATH’ you sent me,” she said.

“You’ve got it.”  And, we talked a lot more.

Louis

I am still feeling my mortality.  Actually, I always feel it, deeply feel it, consciously feel it, want to feel it, each day, since that fateful September 14, 2007 day when for no apparent reason I got hit with a massive cerebral hemorrhage that for unknown reasons didn’t take me out of life’s game and left me, as the neurosurgeon said with glassy eyes, as an unscathed “5% walking miracle.”  Sometimes the emotion of that memory is rawer than at other times, but it is always a vivid emotion.  I have to admit that Phil Gunter’s sudden death gave me shuddering flashbacks even though for me it was more of a professional loss than a personal one.  He was a damn good, caring, compassionate respectful Provost.  I wasn’t on the College of Education’s faculty when he was Dean; I didn’t work directly or closely with him on any University matters when he was Provost and VP of Academic Affairs; we never had any philosophical conversations; and we never socialized off campus.  But, we were not anonymous to each other.  He always read my stuff, commented on occasion in response to something I shared on the Web, and we always greeted each other on a first name basis when our paths crossed.  We knew each other somewhere between high level administrator and boots-on-the-ground classroom grunt, somewhere between acquaintance and colleague, somewhere between acquaintance and friend.  But, far more important, most important, I never felt he was anyone other than a damn good, caring, compassionate, respectful, decent human being.  I never saw him plod along; he always had a bounce in his quick step; I never saw him without a smile on his face; he always had a twinkle in his eye.  Sometimes they were slight when he was carrying weighty matters, but they were there.  I remember one passing, quick conversation we had towards the end of last semester that may be meaningless to most, but it isn’t to me.  Passing though the conversation may have been, it will last with me.  I was walking along to class, Phil was approaching me.  He saw me.  We waved a “hi” to each other.  Out of the blue, as he got near, he said in an admiringly tone, “Louis, I never see you without a smile.”

“Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe” I chuckled.

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s a play on Decartes.  It’s Latin, probably lousy Latin, it’s supposed to mean, ‘I think, therefore I will always be grateful.'” I replied in a serious fun way, “I’ve got everything to smile about.  By all rights I shouldn’t be here.  But, here I am: vertical, moving, and I’m on the right side of the dirt doing what I love and love what I am doing.  What else matters?  Those lip muscles are the most powerful in my body.  They keep me high on living a life of possibilites.  So, they  don’t let anything, especially the unimportant stuff, which is most stuff, get me down.”

“That’s very good,” he replied with an affirming smile, “That’s how it should be.  Puts everything in a proper perspective.  What did you call it?”     “Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe,” I laughed and referring to our professor of Classic Languages, “but don’t ask Vicki to check my usage and grammar.  I barely passed Latin in high school  And, I mean barely! I mean they literally threw a party when I passed the Regents Exam!”   And, we waved a goodbye to each other.

Anyway, now we’ve eulogized.  We’ve memorialized.  But, have we sacred-tized.  Have we realized, truly realized the gift given to us?   Or, did we rationalize away the gift of his life suddenly and unexpectedly taken away without apparent rhyme or reason, the gift of those words he spoke to me?  It….is….a….gift, you know.  Have we learned to unwrap and use, truly unwrap and use, that present?  Will we live, truly live, the lesson?  Will we open the gift of life and sacred-tize it?  Sadly, my experience is that almost all of us won’t.  We will talk of Phil’s untimely death at the young age of 60 as “a tragic waste” without understanding that the real waste, the true tragedy, the ultimate sin, is a squandering and devaluing of our precious “now.”   With good intentions, feeling a need of saying something sympathetic, we will lapse into the cliche, pithy, and even the trite.  We will talk of Phil’s love of life without understanding that “to love” and “to live” is more than the difference of one letter.  We will talk, shed a tear, lay a flower, light a candle, and then go about our business-as-usual in a Little Jack Horner manner thinking that to pay our respects is enough.  It’s not.   No, if we really want to eulogize and memorialize and sacred-tize Phil’s life, as Rumi said, we will let us be pulled by love, and we will live and love as one.

“Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe!” For me, having been taken to the brink and having peered over the edge into the dark abyss of death, living each day as if it’s my last is not a cute adage.  Life is my work.  Here and now is my favorite time, for everything is here and now.  A day doesn’t pass that I don’t hear an inner voice asking, “Have you loved today?”  “Have you lived today?” “Have you made a difference today?”  “Have you made a place for the best things in life to live within you?” “Did you live today as if it was your last?”  Thank goodness I don’t hear “Why haven’t you retired?”  If I ever hear that question, I’d answer, “I’ve overcome my weaknesses and built upon my strengths; I am happy, present, being significant, and at peace.”  I’m not living on the “slowing down” downside of life’s arc heading into dodderingtude and senilitude.  At 71 and after 45 years in the classroom, I’m still on top of my game; I still hop out of bed with an “I’m just getting started,” get going, and live attitude each day; each day I still want to rock the classroom.

Some of my colleagues think I’m “fluffy.”  Some tell me to get over that “near death” experience.  I don’t want to get over it; I want it to stay under my skin.  I don’t want to be a footnote to circumstances.  I want to be fully alert, intensely aware, acutely sensitive to myself as well as to things and people around me.  I want to have it before my eyes every day to hammer home the realization of how fortunate I am, how grateful I must be, how I must welcome each day with a genuine enthusiasm, how I am not to be defined or limited by circumstances, and how I must use each day in a meaningful way.

“Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe!”  I don’t need any encouragement to realize that life isn’t in some “if only” far off, dreamy, imagined land where all the pressure would be off, where everything would be perfect.  From surviving that cerebral hemorrhage, as well from surviving cancer a few years earlier,  I learned that “today,” “now,” is my only reality, that my achievement and happiness is in me, today, now; and that a vision quest is a trek of one “now” at a time.  Now, “now” is not really perfect;  yet, “later” will not be the ideal city on the hill.  But, “now” is the perfect time to begin; and, it is the perfect time to continue.

All this has gotten me to think of Kenny and how he always used to ask me for a word about teaching.  I haven’t heard from him in a long while.  But, he comes and goes in my mind.  So, I’ve thought of another word for MY DICTIONARY OF GOOD TEACHING that I will send him:  “WHEN.”  It’s so often a declaration.  It so often means “later,” tomorrow,” “someday,” certainly not “now.”  Then, as in most cases, that “when” usually gets a new meaning:  “never.”  It’s a procrastinating “I’ll face it later” that lies in either a weakened self-perception ruled by  pessimistic “can’t,” and/or fearful “won’t,” and/or uncomitted and undedicated “don’t.”  So, why would I come up with a seemingly deferring and deterring word like “when” for inclusion in my dictionary?  I want to make it question, whose query must not be just answered in a passing and self-serving way, but reflected upon and answered with authenticity and honestly, maybe even with discomfort and pain.  I include it because I want to change it’s meaning to a “you never know” word, from “later” to “now,” from “tomorrow” to “today.”  It’s because I’m put off by putting off as if so many of us are a Scarlet O’Hara proclaiming, “Tomorrow is another day.”

If I get a hold of Kenny again, I’ll tell him, as I just told Barbara, “someday” must always “this day,” here and now.  “When” is a word to be used with questioning temerity, not with answering timidity.  We so often passively wait and wait and wait for proverbial opportunity to knock on our door.  We so often put things off  and push them into our way off tomorrows.  Those tomorrows for so many people are escapes from today, denials of today, resentments of today, maybe even fears of today.  For me, having learned the lesson offered by my cerebral hemorrahage and now by the sudden death of VSU’s Provost, here and now is all any of us have.  When is today!   “Now,” “today,” is when everything is happening.  When is in the here and now dreams and desires and visions that are real.  When is in the here and now that all possibilities exist.  When is in here and now that I am focused, purposeful, and inspired.  There’s nothing theoretical and intellectual about it.  There’s everything real about it.  When is here and now I choose, not yesterday and not tomorrow, but here and now.  When is in here and now that I act.   When is in the here and now that all opportunities open up.  I’ve learned that whatever I’m seeking is not out there somewhere, it’s here; it’s now.  So, I always stop, step back, quiet down, look around and allow myself my “when is here and now.”

Achievement is not a matter of putting off today’s moments.  Happiness is not a matter of being in tomorrow.  To the contrary, achievement and happiness, significance and fulfillment are a matter of living in today’s moments and using them to their fullest and making things happen.    That’s when fulfillment and meaningfulness are claimed.  The way today goes begins, continues, and ends with me, with my “now!”  My “when” makes or breaks my here and now.  My attitude towards my “now” determines whether it’s merely a rehearsal for what usually will never be or it’s a “this is it.”  I don’t discount my when; I make it count.  By welcoming and utilizing my when, my here and now, here and now is  when I move.  If I feared my here and now, I’d be paralyzed to the point I would be with no real tomorrows.  This very moment, this special moment, this magical moment, this great moment, this unique moment, this powerful moment, this beautiful moment, this meaningful moment, this real moment is my “when,” my only time to be real, my only time to be alive, my only time to live, to dream, to make magic, to take that step, and to step up.

Cogito ergo semper gratiam habebe!

Louis

I know, I shared a Random Thought only a few days ago.  In my defense, I’ve got a lot on my heart and mind.  I’m still feeling my mortality because of my colleagues sudden death, and I still have a lot to say to Barbara, the student who wanted to know about the “road to successful teaching.  This is what I told Barbara in an extended telephone conversation a day or two ago as the second of three parts to my answer.  Please don’t hold me to a word for word memory, but it’s darn sight close, close enough to put into quotations, and I’m not including her part of the conversation:

“….Barbara, have you ever heard the Chinese proverb, ‘Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime?’  Applying this proverb, you’ll hear your professors use that proverb in word and deed as a metaphor of what they are doing.  Sounds good, doesn’t it.  And I agree in principle with that proverb, as far as it goes.  I just don’t think it goes far enough.  I say this because I have a few ‘what if’ metaphorical questions.  What if ‘teaching how to fish,’ lip service otherwise, is restricted only to the whys and ways, as well as the equipment, we teachers fish?  What if ‘teaching how to fish’ only is done to get you a fishing license?  What if ‘teaching how to fish involves only the old and traditional, ‘it’s always been done this way,’ whys and ways and equipment of fishing?  What if ‘teaching how to fish’ involves new equipment but still the old whys and ways of fishing?  What if ‘teaching how to fish’ involves using new equipment in new ways but with old whys.  What if ‘teaching them how to fish’ alters the ‘why’ of it all but not the ways or equipment?  What if ‘teaching how to fish’ doesn’t go beyond fishing into larger issues of pollution, food supply, population explosion, greed, nutrition, genetic engineering, overuse of antibiotics, over fishing, fish farming, corruptive and criminal practices?  What if ‘teaching them how to fish,’ then, only with ‘tried and true’ equipment and whys and ways is a barrel vision blurring and restricting the view of the the global and ecological picture. What if ‘teaching them how to fish,’ then, only with ‘tried and true’ equipment and/or whys and/or ways is a restrictive barrier to better and more effective ways, to more purposeful whys, to broader whys, to creativity, imagination, invention, and innovation?  What if ‘teaching them how to fish’ ignores ethical and moral matters, masters of character, matters of conscience, matters of principle, matters of humanity?  No, I think just teaching them how to fish is not enough.  We have to take a further step if we want to go farther down the road.  As someone said, we should revolutionize the entire fishing industry.  I would add: from hook to fork.”

“….So, Barbara, to find your own path to good teaching, I think the first question you should ask yourself is:   ‘Do you understand the power of one?’  The next question is:  ‘Whom do you care about?’    The third question you should ask is:  ‘Do you want to make a difference?’  The fourth question should be:  ‘Why do you want to make a difference?’ The fifth question should be:  ‘What is your vision?’  Then, comes the flood of revolutionizing questions that apply your answer to your seminal five questions, questions that have no final answer, questions you have to ask and answer every changing day, questions that you have to ask and answer in order to deal with the enormous ever-changing diversity in the class, questions that you have to ask and answer in order to deal with the ever-changing circumstances facing you:

What does it mean to make a difference?

In whose life do you make a difference?

How do you make a difference?

Do you know who is in your class?

How do you get to know each person who is there?

Do you know what is going on in the class, as well as on and off the campus?

How do you get to know what is going on in the class and on and off the campus?

What do you need now to begin to make a difference?

What do you need to continue making a difference?

Will you know if you’ve made a difference?

Must you know if you’ve made a difference?”

“….And, finally, as you constantly ask and answer these questions, as you hopefully ponder remember your Ghandi:  ‘If you want to change the world, start with yourself;’ ‘We must become the change we want to see in the world;’ ‘The best way to find yourself is to loose yourself in the service of others;’ ‘Whenever you have truth, it must be given with love, or the message and the messenger will be rejected.'”

“….Oh, one more thing, you told me not to be wordy.  So, I’ve got to be creative to stretch the boundaries of your rules.  So, I’m breaking up my answer in several segments.  And, second, I’m attaching four things to help fill in some more blanks and connect a few more dots:  my ‘Teacher’s Oath,’ my ‘Ten Commandments of Teaching,’ my ‘Ten Stickies,’ and my essay, ‘To Be A Teacher.‘  Read them, mull over them, and learn to live them.  Get back to me if you wish.  I’m ‘to home’ all summer taking care of my Susan and flower garden.  Am I getting an ‘A’ for this assignment?”

Louis