Well, I’m home from the Lilly conference on college teaching. I had left Valdosta for Lilly on warm Wednesday, chilled by a gnawing feeling I was being enveloped by an dulling sense of staleness. After all, I haven’t been in the classroom for almost a year. But, I returned to Valdosta from Lilly cold and snowy yesterday warmed by a refreshing reinvigoration. And, that transformation had nothing to do with the conference program itself. It was the people–Jim, Alicia, Gregg, Alan, Scott, Ron, Milt, Craig, Todd, Neil, Mike, Deb, Steve, Judy, Al, and a host of others who make this conference into a soulful retreat that forges a loving, caring, believing, supporting, uplifting, and encouraging community.
For four days, I was constantly confronted with “carefrontation” by a loving “otherness” with friends and colleagues who circled around me like defending Musk oxen.
“Carefrontation!” I like that word. That’s what teaching and learning should be all about. It’s the embodiment of encounter. It banishes aloneness, strangerness, and loneliness. It’s at the core of support and encouragement. It’s a wrecking ball that demolishes isolating barriers. It’s the steel that builds connecting bridges. It energizes empathy and compassion. It’s the hearth that forges community. It nourishes togetherness.
“Carefrontation!” It’s at the heart of my “Teacher’s Oath.” It is the heart of my “Teacher’s Oath.”
“Carefrontation!” It has an enormous power to cut through the separating wall of impersonal and dehumanizing stereotype and generality. It demands we look at each student–unconditionally–with constantly refreshed eyes and see not a human being, but a “human becoming.”
“Carefrontation!” It is a soothing compound made from the ingredients of what I call “four little big words”: faith, belief, hope, and, above all, love. If nothing else, it doesn’t let you leave everything as it is. A warm carefrontational spirit doesn’t let you leave any student out in the cold. Without fear of sounding trite, in the game of life–which is not a game–nothing like a carefronting heart sends a person’s ego to the sidelines and brings service to others into the play. Good teachers get emotional. They love! They give a damn!! They’re people persons. They’re addicted to people, not to technology, methodology, or information. They know that if they truly want to encounter each student, if they want to connect with each student, if they want to let people in, they have to let their emotions be out.
The problem is that in academia, so many–most–academics walk around in disguised in costumes, wearing masks, putting on airs. So much of what comes out of professors’ mouths in academia these days is sugar-coated, couched, and polished. The messages are manufactured, looks are feigned, the words are insincere, and they all come across as the phonies they are. But, genuine emotion? It’s a real person sharing a real feeling for another real person. When we hear it, when we see it, we know it; we’re riveted. And, that magnetic impact doesn’t only occur because it’s rare; it happens also because it’s real.
“Carefrontation!” A daily dose of it is like a spiritual baby aspirin. It’s critical to strengthening the heart. It keeps the blood flowing.
So, keep on unconditionally ‘carefronting’ each and every student and helping each of them to ‘carefront’ her/himself.
“Carefrontation.” Now, that’s a word for my “Dictionary of Teaching” that I’m beginning to put together.
And finally, let me and Susie take this opportunity to wish all my American friends a joyous Turkey Day. May you recover from your caloric coma induced by your inevitable ODing on tryptophan. And, be careful if you’re traveling.
Louis