This just popped into my head as I finished my walk. I was cooling off in the hot, humid, mosquito riddled air by the fishpond, joyfully thinking about the nearly three hundred caladiums I’m going to put into the garden today. I slowly stared at the pond and pergola, turned my head to gaze at the three room addition to the house, all of which I built over years by myself.

We’ve just finished a week-long presentation of the “Scavenger Hunt Project.” Now, all the communities are gearing up for the semester-ending “NY Times Project.”

You know when I think I am at my best as a teacher? It is when I am least visible. It is when I fill the class with the perfumes of potential, believing, possibility, aspiring. It is when I side step the controlling answers to the students’ dependent “what do you wants” and submissive “what should I dos” and fearful “what do you think abouts” and reluctant “is this okays.” It is when a community in the class says jubliantly and triumphantly with words and gestures , “We did it by ourselves.”

It when they begin to understand why I am not surprised.

To my Christian friends around the world, a Blessed Easter, and….

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Just came in from my walk. Good morning. It is gorgeous outside down here: a nice, balmy 65f (I think that’s about 17c). I sat down non-chalantly with a delicious cup of freshly brewed coffee. Nothing particular in mind. Thinking more about doing the on-line newspaper cross-word puzzles to brush and comb my brain. Called up my e-mail and started reading.

A message from a Canadian e-mail colleague–no, a friend–knocked me off my socks. She talked of a hard working foreign student struggling with learning English. She talked of how one of these students proudly showed her English tutor a letter one of her instructors had written her, applauding her dedication and her work ethic. “I have known this woman for 5 years,” my friend wrote me, “so know very well the sense of inferiority she has overcome as well as her struggle to learn and communicate in English. Every year she improves a little bit more so the letter from her instructor was an affirmation of all the work she does as well as an encouragement of who she is as a person. The fact that this busy man took the time to applaud this student really made her day.”

Then, Margo, let me have it. A passage from Isaiah she heard in church last Sunday that hit her like a bolt of lightning: “The Lord has given me the heart of a teacher that I may sustain the weary with a word.”

“And isn’t that a great motto for our profession,” she proclaimed. I could feel her celebration and excitement in every word.

Wow!

I bolted up when I read that passage just as she did. That….is….a….keeper. It’s going up on my door. Margo is right. That is one heck of a motto for our profession. At least, it should be.

Isaiah nailed it!

She got me feeling. You know, the art of teaching is really knowing what to focus on. And, our teaching is what our attitudes make it out to be. So many of us hauntingly moan about bothersome students, “if only….then.” I don’t think they bother to see that those “if onlys” are what real teaching is really all about, if we dreamt instead of condemned, then, oh my, how we can lighten up instead of darkening those “thens.”

So, excited me is thinking: what would happen if we thought less about teaching the length of a course and more about teaching the breadth and depth of each person in that course.

What would happen if we asked ourselves five questions:

When I look at students, do I listen to the heartbeat of each?
When I look at students, do I feel the inner spirit of each?
When I look at students, do I see the dreams of each?
When I look at students, do I dream that their future is the future?

Do I struggle to sustain the weary?

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Went out more than a bit late this morning. The sun on the horizon was already nestling among the budding branches. I am always amazed at the amazing things, the new things, the astonishing things, the touching things, the little things I see and hear walking the streets day after day, month after month, year after year when I am aware. Today it was a fallen pine cone forlonely lying in the middle of the street, a lone echineaca scouting the way for the others in the bed, an array of amaryllis trumpeting the spring, roses polka-dotting the landscape, a pile of grass clippings heaped on a curb, the rivulets of collected dew on the car window in my driveway, a clumsy bumblebee humming as it worked to borrow into the wood siding of my house, the metallic cadence of a woodpecker high above me rapidly drumming on a power generator, a squirrel jumping from branch to branch. At first, superficial glance, each seemed so unimportant, so trivial, so ordinary. And yet, with an awareness, there is nothing nothing small or insignificant or common about any of them. They all had a way of adding up to a magnificent experience. The ordinary become extraordinary. It is magic; it is mysterious; it is majestic. It wasn’t always so. Until a decade ago, in another life, I was not completely open to these things. I was not totally listening. I was not completely seeing, I was not be aware. And, I sadly missed many grand things. I cut off from all this around me–and in me–and the magic, mystery and grandeur had yet to be born.

And so it is in the world of academia.

That is why I some years ago I enacted for myself and struggle to obey a set of awareness “rules of the road” to enforce my teaching credo: “constantly be aware that the classroom is a gathering of ‘ones,’ of diverse and individual and unique and sacred human beings.” It is from which all the other rules flowed:

“Care. Don’t just mouth it, live it.”
“Focus on the student and his or her learning.”
“Notice the unnoticed.”
“No one’s face gets erased.”
“No one goes nameless.”
“No one is left in the background.”
“No one is hidden in the shadows.”
“Every student is valuable.”
“Never treat every student in every class as the same.”
“Every student starts with a clean slate. Don’t judge a student
by the ring in her belly button or the tattoo on his arm or the whispers
of other people or a GPA or the accent of her speech or the color of
his….”
“Love every student. It’s OK to be disappointed or even
frustrated, but don’t stop loving them as persons.”
Some have asked how I do that. With difficulty, I assure you. And, not always successfully. My usual answer is that I meditate before each class and focus myself. I do. Lately I have found that to be an inadequate answer even for myself, especially when I have back-to-back classes and have to shift gears without a second of hesitation and respite. How do I do that? I do that by struggling–and, once again, not always successfully–to teach hard with a light touch, soft eyes, gentle mouth, and a kind heart. I teach like that because I practice, practice, practice. What do I constantly practice? No, not technique or method or technology however important they are. And, I am not a magician with a mind-boggling trick or a card sharp with an ace up my sleeve.

I constantly practice constant awareness: constant awareness of where I am, constant awareness of who I am, constant awareness of the surrounding circumstances, constant awareness of who each of the students are, constant awareness of the hazards and traps. Like some prey walking in a dark jungle, my eyes are constantly moving and my sense are constantly on full alert. To do that, I practice slowing, stopping, focusing, and being still. I practice listening, seeing, feeling, and being still. I started with struggling to be aware of something as ordinary as water. Slowly I was sensitive to the currents of saliva in my mouth. I was conscious of the and puddling on my eyes. I began to feel, what I came to swear was down to the molecular level, the emerging formation and flow of each globule of sweat. My seeing, hearing, sensing, and feeling swam the unimaginable sites and sounds and sights and forms of water everywhere and all around me: the shower, a cup of coffee, a glass of soda, a fountain, the fish pond, a puddle in the street, a water fountain, a water sprinkler, the drowning humidity. You will be amazed how slowly something as ever-present and common and ordinary as water becomes magnificently wondrous. Individual notes merge into a stirring symphony. Individual strokes appear on a spell-binding canvas.

I assure that if you can master looking and being still, you will see. Sense and be still, and you will feel. Listen and be still, and you will hear. It took time and effort. I had to patiently give it time and effort. I took all the time it took. I put in all the effort it took. I practice when I was alone and slowly used it when I was among others. Still do. I paid attention to what surfaced from below the waterline of my consciousness. I cultivated my sensitivity above the waterline. I paid attention to my thoughts and feelings, to paraphrase Deuteronomy, when I rose up, when I walked along the way, and when I laid down. Still do.

What I call “a sixth sense” is really a capacity that is exercised by the constant opening and scanning questions seeped in awareness: “What is going on here?” “Who is here?” “What am I hearing?’ “What am I seeing.” “What may happen?” “What would I do if such and such happened?”

A constant word, a constant intimate partner of awareness, is “constant.” Constant keeps your awareness honed. Constant keeps your awareness strong. Constant keep your awareness open. Constant keeps you always reaching out and always responding to the sights, sounds, movements, and smells. Constant is the enemy of dull and routine. Constant keeps you awake so you never do anything in your sleep. It is being able to withdraw into silence and motionlessness without pulling in your antennae, and being able to come back in a flash when the signal is picked up. Constant is one of those conditions that makes sure awareness is awareness.

You see, awareness isn’t something that is turned on and off. The effort is to be constantly aware, to always know something is ever-present, to always know that something is going on at all times all around you. It takes effort, like my walking. It is not tiring or boring, like my walking. To the contrary, it is invigorating; it is being alive. There are times I can feel each hair on my body. With the awareness mysteriously comes a gift that has a newness and freshness about it. The more I became aware the more I have an appreciation of and affection for each person, especially myself. It is doggone exciting and uplifting.

It took me a while to realize that constant awareness isn’t just a bunch of mental calistenics, some daily exercises reserved for a cubbyholed moment, a “couple of sets” that you do for ten minutes each morning, a period of yoga here or a session of Tai Chi there. Awareness isn’t like muscle, to be developed by exercising and flexing. It is not the end product of a series of logical steps. It does not emerge miraculously as a result of embracing some beliefs.

Awareness, as advocates of yoga and Tai Chi will tell you, is lived every moment. It is an attitude. It is an attitude towards yourself, towards other people, what they are attempting to express. Awareness creates appreciation. Awareness is respect, value, worth. It is interest, understanding, sensitivity, sympathy, support, encouragement.

I was once asked what was my worst day in class. It was a time when I was unaware. It was a time when that gift of affection was lost. It was lost for a reason. It was when I fell into the trap of letting routine replace awareness. I closed my openness. I turned off the current to my antennae. It was when I stopped listening and seeing for that moment, when I pulled the communication plug out from my soul.

Be aware, the search for good teaching and teaching to do good is to be aware, constantly aware. And since what it is and who it is to be aware of is forever unique, each search is a unique and constant effort. Learn to be aware of what is really being said. Learn to look at what is really there. Learn to let the totality of the situation dive below the waterline into your gut. Set the response button to “delay.” You’ll be amazed how much you can see, how sharpened what is between the lines and behind the scenes becomes.

There isn’t anyone who cannot become aware. Just practice looking, listening, smelling, feeling, and being still while keeping the pedagogical stuff quiet. You will find a way of working with your opportunities in the course of which you will build strength: strength to believe, strength to hope, strength to dream, strength to venture, strength to create, strength to make the right choice, strength to sustain, strength to touch, strength to make a difference.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

This is sort of out of step with the theme of my last few sharings. I’ll get back to it. I’d like to step to a important sidebar. What broke my cadence was an Op-Ed piece in the NY Times last week by Michele Tolela Myers, President of Sara Lawrence College titled “Student Is Not An Input.” I’ve been thinking alot about it. In it Dr. Myers talks, bemoans is a better word, of the invasion into the academy of business practices and business-speak that talk of markets, competition, students as consumers, professors as salespersons, outsourcing ventures for profit (I guess that means research grants and not just sports programs), brand value (that means so many Merit Scholars per student body or level of SAT entrance scores or number of Nobel Prize winners on the faculty) and brand recognition (winning sport national championships).

Ah, me. From Dr. Myer’s comments you would think the immaculate, pristine, intellectual, contemplative, ethical, moral Ivory Tower had finally been breeched by the assault of invasing forces from the outside, sordid, egotistical, greedy, immoral, oafish, unethical, materialistic world.

I think there is a bit of irony in Dr. Myers grief, maybe even a touch of disingeniuitys. It sort of reminds me of Milton Berle when in response to applause he would hold up one hand in a stop gesture trying to quiet the crowd while using the other hand, held down, with a beckoning gesture to keep the applause going. So, I ask if this business-speak really is a distressing new language or are the words lamenting because they are more honest, more descriptive, more graphic, and less euphemistic. Maybe we don’t want to be reminded that that supposed breech had been made long ago and we have been feeling, thinking, and acting as Jabez Stones for a long, long time. Maybe what we are really sad about is that we can’t find a defending Daniel Webster now that the devil is calling in his note. Maybe we are beating ourselves because we just don’t like to be reminded of that fact and shaken from our haughtiness and delusional self-denial that we aren’t as high above and far removed from commercialization of academia as we tout ourselves to be.

What is it, then, that supposedly makes Higher Education higher? Is it the training of more skills? Is it the transmission of more information? Is it the granting of more degrees? Is it the generation of more thinking? More is not necessarily better much less higher.

The answer lies in a set of simple questions that have extraordinarily difficult answers: what are we trying to accomplish? What is our mission? What is our purpose? What is our vision?

It would seem to me that the focus on the development of skill and the transmission of information creates experts and maybe professionals. In almost all aspects of the academy, from tracking in high school, to college recruitment, to the divisive system of majors curriculae, to the packing of major programs myopically with “courses appropriate to the major,” to demeaning students as input and faculty as units, to fighting to eliminate those pernicious non-occupational, supposedly impractical “what good are they” courses and curricula like history and philosophy and literature and the arts, to cost-consideration of course and program offerings, to grading and testing, to placement offices, to internships, to business recruitment, to the diploma, to the GRE and LSAT and GMAT, we tout a college degree as little more than an entrance ticket into the job–oops, sorry, professional–market. Oh, some of those snappy looking recruitment brochures may talk a good talk about living and down play job skills, but our entire academic operation, from recruitment to graduation, is geared towards the practicality of making a living. Is that what makes Higher Education higher? Higher salaries? Higher social position? Higher prestige? I think not. In the race to become wealthier, maybe we become poorer; and in climb to be higher, we descend lower. To restrict the “higher” to only more of the “lower” is merely to create a hive of expert and professionl drones, those 50’s obedient people in the gray, flannel suits. We delude ourselves with self-denial to think otherwise. We blame that “society made us do it.” And don’t like being reminded of that fact of our collusion.

I don’t think that an educated person is merely a skilled person, that an educated person is merely an informed person, that an educated person is merely a thinking person, and that an educated person is merely an expert or professional. An educated person is, above all, a moral and ethical person with all those skills and knowledge. An educated person is an free, independent thinking person. An educated person is a socially and communally responsible person who is acutely aware of how his or her thoughts, utterances, and acts affects others. An educated person is a person of character. That definition answers the question of what we should be trying to accomplish, and raises the sights of academics and students to the high heights of creating a more moral and ethical as well as skilled and knowledgeable, world and not merely a more informed or a more technologically advanced society.

I just say quickly that learning is not merely the gathering of information and the honing of skills; learning is not merely the utilization of those skills and information. Learning is how and to what ends those skills and that information are applied. I’ll say it again. The Keatings and Milikins of this world were not college drop-outs, but they were moral drop-outs. It is not an either/choice of intelletual or entrepeneurial. It never has been. Maybe we can produce an moral, ethical, free-thinking, intellectual entrepeneur.

Obsolete or naive thinking? Impractical and costly attitude? I don’t think so, not in a democracy such as ours, not if we want to remain a free and vibrant society. What is truly naive and costly and impractical is to think and act otherwise.

So, I ask. Is higher education really aiming high?

Make it a good day.

–Louis–