“That’s not my job,” one sociology professor howled at me as if I had pounded a festering wound. “I am here only to teach them some thinking skills and transmit the information of subject. AND THAT’S ALL (her emphasis). I’m here to give them mastery of the subject and cover all the material. Let them go to a priest, friend, lover, parent, or counselor for their emotional growth. My job is strictly to promote intellectual development and academic accomplishment! What do you have to say to that?” She was by no means a lone voice.

She deserve a reply, but I think I’ll let John Madden and to a lesser extent Mike Ditka be the point men and let them reply for me. For those who don’t know who these two people are, John Madden is a renown and highly respected television commentator of American football who was once a highly successful player and coach, and Mike Ditka, also a past player, is currently a coach of a football team. Anyway, I was watching the New England Patriot game a couple of weeks ago and was listening to John Madden’s always colorful, “been there” commentary as the Patriots were getting trounced. It’s interesting how he inseparably joined what the athletes were or weren’t doing on the field with what was or was not going on inside themselves, how he emphasized the impact that emotion and attitude had on effort and performance. It wasn’t too far into the first quarter when he observed, “They don’t have heart,” He continued, “There’s no fire. They are just not in it, and it’s effecting their play.” His first words struck me. I ran to get a pencil and scribbled his comments down in the margins of the newspaper lying next to me.

Throughout the rest of the game his commentary was punctuated by a running staccato of similar sharp observations: “They just don’t have their mind on the game, and the score shows it.” “There’s no motivation and they’re moving in slow motion.” “They didn’t come out big and are playing little.” “They’re not rookies, but are tackling like they are.” These guys have lots of talent and get paid lots of money, and they have no juice in their battery.” “There’s just no fire.” “They have no heart, and you just can’t play only with your head.” “They’re flat and it’s not letting them play up to their talent or their paycheck.”

“That’s the coach’s job,” Madden concluded towards the end of the game without holding anything back. “He has to get the most out of them by preparing them emotionally and not just draw circles and squares and arrows on a chalk board. The coaches haven’t kept the players focused. They didn’t take charge. They’re supposed to prepare them for the game, and I don’t mean just the game plan. I mean the WHOLE (Madden’s emphasis) game.” It was only two days ago that Mike Ditka said in a fit of frustration that it was his job as coach to instill “passion in these guys.”

So, I ask, what do Madden and Ditka, as well as a host of other athletic coaches, professional and non-professional alike, whom too many of us academics so easily dismiss and condemn as “dumb jocks,” know that the overwhelming majority of us professors don’t know, …. or don’t want to know, ….or refuse to know, ….or perhaps are afraid to know?

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

A new-found colleague, Philip Riley of Deakin University in Australia, asked me some profound questions about learning. I jotted off some quick sentences promising a reflective reply at a later date. But, thinking about it, I have found those spontaneous replies are often far more honest then the ones we play with to make sure every “i” is dotted, every “t” is crossed, and every word is in its proper place. Those unpolished relfections come far more from us than they go to impress someone else.

With that in mind, I’d like to share with you my comments to him. I think my desire to share is heightened as I prepared to particpate this weekend in an always revitalizing conference on teaching at Miami of Ohio. But, I also feel compelled by a comment I read–after I wrote Philip–on a student evaluation, written anonymously, about another triads presentation of what we call the “Broadway Project.” She wrote, “I started this project as just another assignment, but after listening to Nakesia’s, Chris’ and Lindsay’s triad presentation, ‘Are We There Yet?’ it was not. It took my breathe away. I stayed up all night sometimes in tears. I can’t stop asking myself questions, questions, questions. It got to me. I thought I was a good Christian. It was painful to admit I am a quiet, passive racist. I don’t like that and I will work to cast it out. I can honestly say that that single five minute presentation has made this course worthwhile. It has changed me and I have grown for the better. I hope it stays with me. I will fight to keep it with me and help me grow some more. Please share this with the class. I didn’t sign it. I haven’t the courage yet to be that open. Maybe someday I’ll be there.” I share with the understanding that I am not asking to accept what I say, but that I merely offer it up for reflection; that my comments are a bit disjointed, but I just went with the flow; that I’m no philosopher or psychologist or pundit or education specialist; and that I’m not sure that I’m not going into areas where angels fear to tread. To be honest, I am very nervous about what I am about to say. Anyway, here goes.

I think “learning” in today’s language has lost a lot of its true meaning if not it’s essence. It is not taking in packaged information; it’s not spewing back on what the academic jargon calls an “instrument of assessment;” it’s not a course grade, a GPA, or even a degree. It goes beyond time spent in the confinement of class although time spent is important; it goes beyond competence and skill although it is grounded on them; it even goes beyond attitude although it demands emotional and spiritual growth. No, I think taking in information is only distantly related to real learning because learning is about people, not facts. It’s about a comittment to the full human development of each of us. And THAT is the fundamental issue in education: we do not pursue emotional development with the same intensity with which we pursue intellectual development. Yet, it is both emotional and intellectual development that offers each of us the greatest opportunity for striving towards our full potential.

So, if real learning is about a comittment to full human development, it is about personal growth, about personal change, about rooting out self-deceptions and self-imposed limitations, about broadening horizons, widening perhipheral vision, seeing more clearly, listening more sharply, feeling more sensitively and lovingly, being more open and honest. It’s about seeking and tapping potential; it’s about enhancing the capacity to create something new that has value and meaning to yourself and others. It’s not so much about looking outside and dreaming during a sleep. It’s about looking inside and awakening from a sleep. Learning is a process of unlearning, of self re-creation. It’s about breaking out of moulds and ruts and becoming a better person. It’s about being alive. Through learning we extend our capacity to perceive and reperceive the world, other people, ourselves, and to weave all three threads into a fabric of connectedness. Through learning we become able to do something we never were able to do.

I don’t think there is a simple formula or technique to learning how to learn that you might see on these T.V. pop-whatever infomercials or read in a book or hear in a classroom lecture. It is not something you occasionally process. It is a process that is woven into our day to day life. I’m sure there are more competent and experienced than I who can help in this regard. But, from my own personal experience I do know learning requires an acknowledgement and acute awareness of ignorance, incompetence, shortcoming, fraility, need to grow. And, I do know that learning helps to develop a self-confidence; it helps to develop a sense of freedom from others; and it bestows a power over yourself.

No, real learning is not just about change. It’s something more uncomfortable, more frightening, more exhilarating, more courageous, more essential. Real learning is about changing ourselves. And, its essence is not what it is, but what it does for each of us as this student learned.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

It’s soggy and muggy outside. No walking in this morning sponge. I haven’t walked in a week. A bad leg cramp and threatening pronouncements from my angelic Susan will do that. But, I have been thinking about an unexpectedly profound discussion I had with a student whom I’ll call Elmer yesterday morning. Haven’t stopped thinking about it.

It was miserably rainy and muggy yesterday morning. I was walking from the University Center to my office on Main Campus right after my 8:00 a.m. class ended to prepared for my 10:00 a.m. class. I don’t have back-to-back courses. I need time to meditate in preparation for each class. Anyway, I was splashing along, twisting my unbrella as I started to feel a Gene Kelly urge, when a voice from the past rang out behind me.

“Hey, doc, you got a Tootsie Pop and room under that umbrella?”

I remember thinking that voice was both strange and familiar. I stopped and turned around. It was Elmer. He had been in a first year class with me about a year ago. I almost didn’t recognized him. A strength in his voice had replaced what was last year at best a hidden, muted whisper. Like the waters of a life-giving river, a confident smile nourished the scenery of his once arid face. His eyes no longer receded into reclusiveness. As I beckoned him with my head to share my protection from the sky’s watery confetti, I saw that a strong, erect “here I am” pace had replaced his once “please don’t see me” hunched, slither. With the quick smoothness and uncanny accuracy of a western gunslinger, I pulled an ever-present Tootsie Pop out from behind my ear and tossed it to him. When he came up to me, I grabbed both his shoulders. “Elmer! Is this you? Man have you changed,” I said in a tone of joyful pride.”

“Yeah, I guess I have,” he answered as he stood a little straighter. “I’m surprised you noticed. No, I shouldn’t be. You’re still getting to me. I guess I’m finding that handsomeness of my spirit.”

“What a beautiful way to put it,” I quietly added. “Thank you. You’ve just got the sun to cut through the clouds and shine on my day. I’m proud for you. But,” I added with deliberate hesitation, “…..do you know who really is getting to you?”

He hesitated for a few seconds and smiled, “Me.”

“And don’t ever forget that! Let’s walk.”

As we headed for the main campus, sucking on our morning Tootsie Pops, Elmer started talking. “You know, doc, I’ve been here for almost two years. I think I’ve figured out the difference between bad, good, and the great teachers.”

“You’ve got one on me. Tell me. What do you think is a bad teacher?”

He described a bad teacher as, in his words, “one who isn’t really a teacher at all.” He went on to say that a bad teacher is one who isn’t liked by the students.”

“Why wouldn’t the students like a teacher?” I interrupted.

“Because deep down he really doesn’t like them no matter what he says. He isn’t in the classroom with them. He’s there but he’s not there and doesn’t believe most of us belong here. The one I’m going to now said that. He doesn’t think being there is the most important thing he does . His mind is on some other stuff he’s doing. He’s told us that, too” Elmer went on to say that the students don’t care for a teacher because he or she really doesn’t care about the students or believe in them, “though he’ll say differently, but the students know otherwise whether they know it or not….You know a teacher is bad,” he ended his description, “even though he may know a lot when you hear the students say, ‘I hate this subject,’ ‘I’m not good at this subject,’ ‘I don’t like going to that class.’ ‘Boy, I’m glad that’s over.'”

“And a good teacher?” I asked.

Elmer described the good teacher as one whom the students like and who likes the students. But, he’s not sure the teacher really believes in or trusts the students. He still tells them what is important and what he wants them to do.

“And, what do students say about the good teacher,” I prodded.

“You’ll hear most students say about him things like ‘I loved that course,’ ‘He gave us great lectures,’ ‘He or she taught me a lot.’

Then, Elmer hit me with the bombshell that still has me in shock when I asked him how he described the great teacher

“You know doc, I learned that a great teacher is not just liked by the students.” “No? How do the students feel about him?”

“He’s loved by them.”

I turned my head towards him so fast I thought for a moment that my arthritic neck would snapped off. And, I almost walked into a tree. But, Elmer didn’t notice, “That’s because the great teacher doesn’t just like the students. He loves them.” Elmer went on to reveal an insight and wisdom far beyond his years. He sounded like a combined Lao-Tzu. Parker Palmer, and Kahlil Gibran. Elmer explained that he decided a great teacher believes in the students. “He listens a lot to them and not much to himself. He really sort of tricks them into seeing that they can learn by themselves and about themselves and gets them to listen to themselves.

“And what do the students say of a great teacher?”

Elmer replied without missing a beat, “They talk more about themselves then about him. Maybe not in words. They say, ‘Wow, I didn’t know I had it in me’ or ‘I didn’t think I could do that.’ ‘Gee, I did it myself.’ And you know something? They are surprised and even scared by that–I was. But the great teacher isn’t.”

As we approached the main campus, Elmer finished our conversation by saying something like–I scribbled down his words on some scrap paper after he left–“That’s important because, like you used to tell us over and over, when we get out of here that there won’t be a teacher around to tell us what is important and to ask what we should do. We have to learn to figure that out by ourselves. Kinda be our own teacher. I guess that is what an education really is.”

The only words I could muster was an amazed, “You should learned a hell of a lot in your short stay here.”

“Had a hell of a teacher,” he smiled back.

Before I could say another word, he shook my hand, and ran off towards the science building with a departing, “See ya. Gotta get to class. Be by for another Tootsie Pop.”

I stood there momentarily in the rain awe-struck. Elmer had already prepared me for my next class.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Good morning. A real early good morning. It’s 3:15 and I can’t sleep. Even the glass of warm milk didn’t work. Having a massive house rennovation those horrors tales rival that of “Mister Blanding Builds His Dream House” and “The Money Pit” combined will do that. I put my book down after a while and started flipping through the 402 infomercials on TV. I discovered to my amazement how I could so easily earn a million dollars a month in real estate without investing any money, how I could become an astropysicist using two video tapes, how I could clean my white carpets wearing an Amani suit with a space age vacuum that gets out every conceiveable stain, how I can become the world’s greatest chef by just purchasing a set of knives or a shredder, how I can preserve for the next millenium that food I prepared with the knives and shredder, how I can get perfectly clean teeth to match my carpets, how I can paint my house in pressed workclothes without a drip or getting a speck of paint on me or anything else, and how I can get a body that would rival Arnold Schwatzenegger with only 15 second daily workouts.

As I giggled and smirked and laughed, I started thinking how we who promote our campuses are noe appreciable different from the modern electronic pushcart salespeople. My smirks slowly faded. We offer the same type of guarantees, sell the same kind of miraculous product, and we’re just as smooth about it. Slowly images of college recruiters started dancing in my head like the upcoming season’s sugar plum fairies. I saw them scurrying around high school halls, setting up booths in high school gyms during “College night,” giving families VIP tours of our campus fountains and buildings and sports fields, rousting out prospective first year students. I saw them handing out Madison Avenue brochures with pictures of Morris Agency models strolling across immaculate campuses, sitting on the edge of their cushioned easy chairs listening attentively to a smiling, made-up professor orating, leisurely dining in a four-star campus cafeteria, joyfully assisted by librarians with not one hair out of place in the campus Library of Congress, dressed in designer labcoats intently studying a test tube or peering at a computer screen. Each booth has a eye-catching neon sign worthy of Broadway flashing in vivid colors that would be the envy of any Las Vegas casino: DEGREE….JOB….SALARY….SUCCESS; DEGREE….JOB….SALARY….STATUS. Each booth had a computer that was showing on a website all sorts of images of their collegiate spa.

I heard these recruiters screaming out from booths in high schools’ college night like two-bit barkers at a carnival, I saw them quietly and seductively enticing parents touring our campus: “Do you want to advance in life? Do want to gain respect? Well, my friend, for the small price of a ticket you can see the secret. Get a peek inside and you’lll see the wonder of getting a better job.”

Like a salesman on a TV infomercial, they dragged out the testimonials: “I was a slave to someone all my life? But, I am here as an alum to tell you that you don’t have to scrimp and save every minute of the day. I used to worry about bills all the time and live on a tight budget from month to month. But, after getting my degree from Touting University, I’m here to tell you that you can be somebody. The people at Touting gave me the solution for all my financial problems, the cure for all my economic headaches. They gave me a college degree.” And then, the salesperson turns to the camera, forcefuly saying, “Put the broom down. Walk way from the production line. Get out of the ditch. Stop standing on your feet all day. Be your own boss. It’s a way to make all your hard work easy. Today only, on special, I have in my hand this piece of sheepkin that I guarantee will get you A BETTER JOB; you’ll MAKE MORE MONEY”; you’ll BE SUCCESSFUL; you’ll have “EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED; you’ll START AT A HIGHER SALARY, have higher STATUS in your community. I GUARANTEE that no one will look down on you; everyone will respect you; you’ll become a PROFESSIONAL.”

Stretching it a bit? Maybe. But think about it. We bark like those hawkers at a carnival booth or promoters on the informercials, we hire recruiting consultant, we tout that our only job is to insure the students gets a job. Our brochures, web pages, magazine and newspaper advertisements link education and success and achievement to a job and salary scale. We’ve got the answer to the question; we’ve unlocked the secret; we’ve got the magic elixir; we’ve solve the problem; we’ve answered the question. COME TO COLLEGE AND EARN A DEGREE and GET A JOB, and all your worries will be allayed.

And some on our college and university campus will rise up in outrage, arguing that votech schools offer jobs, colleges and universities offer professions. We claim to be the botique in the educational mall. Listen to the salesperson’s snooty pitch:

“We’re not K-Mart votechnical institute. Go there if you want to be just a mechanic. We offer only a degree in mechanical engineering.”

“Go to Walmart Community College if you want to be a mere x-ray technician,” he snobishly sneers. “Here, we offer only the highest quality. In your graduating class, you will be high class, a radiologist.”

“We don’t have stores in strip malls,” We cater only to high educational society. “Target Technical College will teach you to be a merely dental assistant. We only train future dentists.” “We teach people how to clean the air, not merely install air conditioners like Family Dollar Junior College.”

Oh, we dress up our displays; we decorate our windows; we merchandise our product with smooth advertising; and we package everything in fancy gift wrap. We call ourselves “Universities!” We call our product a profession or productive careet–never a job. But, the truth is, as the bard might say, a job by another name is still a job. Well, somehow it seems that he only difference between us colleges and universities and those supposedly lowly votech schools and common community colleges is that we claim we can offer a better product, offer the prospects of a better job, higher salary, more prestige, more success, more achivement, a better place in the workplace. Yet, when you come down it we’re touting ourselves as glorified vocational/technical schools, white-collar and professionalism not withstanding; we do more training and schooling than we do educating; we are more concerned with incomes than the outcomes.

So, why should be be outraged when students come to us with a greater interest in interest than in interesting knowledge. Why should we shake our heads in disappointment when students are only concerned with earning rather than with the sheer joy of learning? Why should we moan and groan when an athlete is attracted by the big cents and does not sense the need to get a degree? Why should we mournfully tear our clothes when a business major becomes a drop out swayed more by the dollar sign than the president’s signing of the diploma? Why should we throw up our hands in righteous indignation when a theater or music major leaves school for a role or a gig feeling it is more significant to walk down a theater aisle or play on a stage than walk down a graduating aisle and across the stage? We should be disappointed or confused or angry. To the contrary, we should feel good and celebrate. After all, we kept our promise to them. We told them that our business is business, and they got a job.

Oh, well back to seeing how I can perfectly restore my 1963 Mustang with a can of polish.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–