It’s that stupid fountain wall. Will I never learn. As I I heard an ominous “Hi, Doc” cut through the crisp air. I resignly put my delightfully sticky sweet roll aside. This time it was Kenny.

Remember Kenny from a few years back? He was the first year, secondary ed major, who had asked me for some “different” words that would guide him in his future teaching career. His assignment led to the compilation of “My Dictionary of Good Teaching” which now contains five words: “water,” “read,” “darkness,” “Wilby,” and “play.”

“Haven’t we gotten rid of you yet?” I asked with a smile.

“You did. Last semester. Just visiting. Say, good thing I bumped into you.” I cringed when I heard that. “Must be fate. I was thinking about you.”

“I can’t wait to hear why,” I interrupted with an air of mock fear

“How about some more words.”

“Why did I know you were going to say that.”

“Hey, it’ll be a late graduation present. And, it’s only mid-term. About it, another five? I loved those others. Read them all the time. They really help me. First one next week? Monday? Here’s my e-mail. Gotta run. Make them ‘good’ and ‘different’ like the others. Bye.”

“Monday? Wednesday,” I yelled after him.

He waved his arm in approval without turning back. I think I’m going to give up doughnuts, sweetrolls, and that fountain wall. Anyway, I was mulling things around this morning. What could I come up with that would be what Kenny would think was a good one–and “different?” Then, as I hit the one and a half mile mark on the outgoing leg of my walk, I started having an inner conversation with myself:

“You don’t want to do this,” I moaned to myself.

“You have to,” I admonished myself.

“Why? The world isn’t going to come to a stop if I don’t.”

“You promised that you’ll walk a little farther this morning.”

“Three miles is enough.”

“You’ve been doing that for a few days. Time to push.”

“I’ll ache.”

“It’s the only way you’ll get back to six miles.”

“It’s cold and drizzly. I’ll have a relapse.”

“Four miles today.”

I walked on. On the back two mile leg, feeling good about not having given into the temptation to be lazy and surrendering to the temptation to push myself, it started coming to me. I started thinking of this brief inner conversation and of a video of “Damn Yankees” I had watched the other night, of Joe Hardy, Mr. Applegate, and especially his acolyte temptress, Lola. And heard that alluring, tempting, salacious, seductive song of temptation playing in my head: “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets; and little man, Lola wants you.” And, it hit me. Boy did I come up with a good one for Kenny: TEMPTATION.

Sound Satanic? Maybe more live devilish. Anyway I’m not ready to cast Kenny into Hell’s seething sulphur pits of everlasting damnation even though I slightly felt that way at the fountain. And, don’t call upon Daniel Webster to do battle with Mr Scratch for his soul. Hear me out. Whether we’re looking at a dictionary or a religious scripture, we think of tempation in dark and negative terms as walking on a path in a direction that leads us away from true north, from good to evil, right to wrong, blessing to curse, virtue to sin.

So why am I conjuring up what at first glance seem to be negative and destructive images of a Siren or a Lorelei or a Lola for Kenny? Well, we all assume that to be tempted and to succumb to temptation is something bad. We assume it means to do something unseemly, evil, ungodly, nasty, criminal, sinful. We all assume that temptation has but one goal, and that is to stray off the path.

What if temptation isn’t all that devilish; what if it was just the opposite? What if temptation can have another goal, and this is to lure, entice, and pull us onto and keeps us on the difficult path that heads in the direction of true north? What if temptation were to lure out our hidden strengths instead of catering to our weaknesses. What is if it enticed us away from our negative jealousies, anxieties, fears, resentments and toward secret positive potentials ? What if we are tempted not to let others or ourselves impose limits or silence our voices; what if we were tempted to walk around our fears of failing and of rejection; what if we were tempted to climb over our barriers of worry and burst through those obstructions of weakened self-confidence; what if we were tempted to lift these negative weights so we can be creative and imaginative? We don’t ordinarily call these “what ifs” temptations, but they are.

We think of temptation as something in inopportune. What if we turn temptation on its head and make it into something that is opportune? We think of temptation as something that ensnares us. What if it was something that cuts through the entangling net? What if we just said “Yes” to the challenging temptations I am thinking about? What if it was helpful instead of harmful, an antidote instead of a poison, an ally instead of a foe, liberating instead of enslaving, fun instead of foul, constructive instead of destructive, joyful instead of sorrowful, success instead of failure, a “yes” rather than a “no,” light instead of dark, assuredness instead of doubt, uplifting instead of despairing, good instead of bad. What if we are entice to accept the temptation of challenge, effort, commitment, perseverance, dedication, work.

I think we too often pause to consider Lola with her get-rich-and-famous-quick-and-easy seduction because we don’t have faith in ourselves, confidence in ourselves, belief in ourselves. We succumb to our weakness because we don’t have the courage to go into our heart of hearts and put our strength, abilities, and talents to the test. I think, as it says in Psalms 51, we desire inner truth, to hear joy and gladness, to have a clean heart, but we don’t dare go there. What if we were dared to go there? What if, as I said, if we were tempted to believe in ourselves and students, have faith in ourselves and students, trust ourselves and students. What if we succumb to our strengths to overcome our hesitations? What if we surrender to the temptation to resolve our conflicting desires to stay hidden and play it safe and stay in the crowd and remain imprisoned to the demands of what others want on one hand, and take a risk and stand away from the herd and be free and lead on the other?

Temptation doesn’t happen just because we have that desire, for we experience lots of forlornly “if only” and “I wonder” desires that come and go. To be tempted and to succumb to the temptation are two different things. The temptation I see occurs not in the wanting, but in the doing. It’s born as a desire, subtle and subconscious and silent or otherwise; it’s slowly grows into action; and it leads to a fulfilled professional and personal and communal experiences! The temptation occurs, then, not when it’s offer, but when desires captures us. For me, the temptation is a deep desire to be that person who is there to help each student become the person he or she is capable of becoming. Always go back to that first principle of mine, don’t I. Getting interesting? Temptation, then, might be the pearly gateway to good.

So, yeah, I’m going to tell Kenny if he wants to be a good teacher, he has to give into and follow his temptations. He has got to give into that craving to make a difference, get captured by that drive to do something important, succumb to that ravenous desire to be of value, surrender to be the person of his inner dreams and visions, get enticed pass those stop signs, get lured into being unique. I’m going to tell him that he has to surrender to those desires to lead himself into temptation to become someone larger than himself, to live a life of accomplishment rather than one of comfort.

So, maybe I’m not nuts when I lump temptation, strength and courage all in one breath. Depends upon the temptation, doesn’t it. What if you were being tempted to remove doubt, be fulfilled, feel satisfaction, to feel accomplishment, to make a difference? Wouldn’t you give in? Unlike Lola’s temptation, giving into my kind of temptation is an act courage and a sign of strength. And, of course, what I’m telling Kenny is all he has to do is tempt yourself.

Heck, if we’re always giving into some kind of temptation, and we are, why don’t we just give into those that will lead to achievement. So, I’m going to tell Kenny that if he wants to become a good teacher, tempt himself to appreciate the challenges, to look for the positive possibilities, to look for and find the buried treasure in each student, to work, to persist, to commit, to seek out the opportunities, to imagine the best, to experience the sadness that goes along with caring, to embrace the consequences, to reach, to wonder, to believe and to have faith and to have hope and to love, to be uncertain, to let go, to see adventures instead of struggle, to have fun, to find and spread joy, to enrich, to shatter the limitations, to welcome change, not to fear failure, to stretch, to dare, not to be wrapped up in comfort, to be forever “unboxed,” to welcome problems as positive opportunities, to always be “un-rutted,” to give, to smile and laugh and sparkle each day, to lively bring life to each student each day, to be honest and humble, not to get angry, to notice the vast and magnificent and beautiful in each student, to nurture, to be a friend, to be passionate, to have compassion, to grow, to develop, to succeed, not to fear, to make that golden connection with each student, to know each student is important, to fall in love with the mysterious and the unexpected, to surrender control, not to prejudge or judge, to be there for a student, to do whatever it takes, to achieve, not to ask for guarantees, to learn new skills, test out new ideas, to explore, to make each day count, to make no excuses, to take risks, to be selfless, to do something important, never to take the easy way, to roll up your sleeves and never throw up your hands or walk away, to be the person to help each student become the person he or she is capable of becoming. Oh, there are some many more of these kinds of temptations I can think of.

I have found that the longer I let these temptations stew and brew in my soul the more secure , stronger, and serene I become. I don’t want to resist them. I want to be lured and enticed by them. I want to be on the lookout for them. I don’t want to flee and avoid them. I don’t want to over come them. I want them to overcome me. I want them to drag me away. I want to embrace them. I want to be a helpless victim of them. I don’t want to battle them. I want to make them my ally and fight along side them. I don’t want to keep these temptations in check. I want to recognize them for what they are and let them thrive.

Unlike Lola’s temptations, they aren’t easy ones and they won’t take Kenny on the easy road. They will take him over bumpy potholes, into dangerous hairpins curves, on rattling rough pavement. To give into them, I can attest, will give him strength and security–and serenity– make him proud and honest, find that teaching with loving kindness is amazing, and will change his heart and his actions. And, he will have a wonderful life of making a meaningful difference for the better.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

The pre-dawn morning today was damp, foggy, and muggy as the remnants of yesterday’s rain hung around in the air. It was peacefully and meditatively still. Still thinking a lot because lots of stuff that has been converging the last few weeks. First, were my reflections on learning and motivation. Second, my always successful resistance this week to the University’s requirement to post mid-term “progress grades.” Mixed in with them were, the rock-’em-sock-’em student initiated “Tidbit” discussions on racism and feminism and flag-burning. And, to top it all off, the students worked on and presented their Salvador Dali and Dr. Seuss projects.

For both projects, the classroom was hoping! Chairs strewn about; students hunched over easel paper or poster board, spread out on the floor; student lying about in the hallway, a serious pose on some faces; laughter on others; color markers, sparkles, string, cotton balls, and god knows what else scattered on the floor; communities outside in the hall. Textbook pages are being flipped, sentences being read, paragraphs being discussed, fingers being pointed to words. The scene was a collage of excitement, enthusiasm, creativity and imagination, movement, and noise. All this poured over into the Library, on the quad, into the Union, into dorm rooms and apartments. To the munching of doughnuts and cookies and popcorn, they presented the projects. Gosh I wish you could have seen all that. If these were the Olympics, each and every community in all four classes–all forty-nine of them–would get gold! They got me so excited, I even wrote them an open evaluation in the form of a Dr. Seuss rhyme.

As one student said in his evaluation of the “Dr Seuss Project,” “It was just like the Dali Project. From what our community did and what I saw other communities do, most of us have been in and out of the textbook and over and under the material like earthworms turning bland stuff into a rich nourishing compost heap. Boy, it looks like most of us have surprised ourselves. I really can’t wait to see us sing for the Bruce Springstein Project and make a sculpture for the Rodin Project.”

And, in this delightful confluence, I am asking myself “why is what is going on going on?” I have gut feelings; I’m struggling to translate them into words. The students, in their evaluations of each other and the project offered me clue words and phrases among which were: “trusted us,” “had freedom,” “respected us,” “had to decide on our own,” “exciting,” “interesting,” “safe to try something different.”

You know, so many of us are so quick to ask two questions about a teaching method or technique: “Does it work?” and “How do you grade it?” In asking those questions, we spread the pernicious rumor that if something, the lecture or discussion or project or experiment goes the way we want, and the students’ grades are good, however we twist and curl and and turn and curve and weigh them, the students have learned. I once thought there was such a tight, direct connection of the elements in that progression. Then, about a decade ago I started wondering if that was true. Now, I don’t anymore, for I don’t see the connection.

For the past decade I have been asking with increasing frequency some questions of myself and colleagues. Recently, they have been slamming me between the eyes:

Do we really believe students can be trusted to learn?
Do we really engage in a control system whose motto
is, “If we didn’t, the student wouldn’t.”
Do we really allow students to decide, become involved, and get
excited?
Do we really give students responsibility to decide, to be
involved, to question, to think?
Is grading really what education is about and is education really
about grading?
Do we really believe that lecture is teaching?
Do we really believe that note-taking, test cramming, paper
writing, and test taking are what learning is all about?
Do we really believe that the student really learns what is
lectured.
Is what we cover really learned.
Are we only intellectual and information masons building a wall,
of knowledge, content brick by content brick by content
brick by content brick?
How do creative and imaginative people come from passive learners?
How do problem perceivers emerge from solvers of our problems?
How do manipulated classroom objects come out of the academic
cocoon as respected and respectful individuals?
How do students trained to converge emerge with the courage to
diverge?
How does imposed PC encourage diversity of thought, action,
and expression?
How do controlled passers of tests and getters of grades
metamorphose into independent discovers?
Do we really think that standardization encourages the
development of individual traits?

Think about it. Much of what so, so many of us do is composed of taken-for-granted routines. Whether we have one technique or a variety of techniques, we still have a routine upon which we focus. We focus on what we do, we ask about whether something works or not, not so much to challenge the validity of our routine as to reinforce it and make it work better. And when a challenge arises, so many of us, like accomplished gunfighters, in a blur movement of the hand, pull out and rapidly fire our “That’s not me.” “It’s not my personality.” “It’s not my style.” “I could never do that.” and “I believe.” When we ask whether a technique works or not, we’re asking the wrong questions. So many of us seldom ask the whys of student attitudes: why are or aren’t the students turned on; why is or isn’t what you’re doing seemingly important to then; why do they see or don’t see the tasks demanded of them as they do; why do or don’t they come to class; why do or don’t they get turned on.

So many of us are into syllabi that have emerged in these days as “binding contracts,” not mutually negotiated and arrived at by student and professor. These syllabi are seen more as a protection of the professor than the education of the students. More often than not, these syllabi are laced in word and tone with flurries of warnings of penalty which ooze suspicion and distrust rather than support and encouragement and respect. More often than not, everything is done by us for them. Everything is organized for the students, everything is planned out for the students, everything is scheduled for them, everything is defined for them. We impose a particular pattern and dirge-like cadence of study over which we hold the threatening cat-o-nine-tails of “to make sure they read it” pop quizzes and unannounced tests. Gobs of material are thrown out with the expectation they will be consumed and then regurgitated. Education so often equivalent to sitting still, being quiet, eyes straight, hearing and writing down, “mastering” of a set mass of information, given ways of thinking and doing. We engage in perpetual academic hazing. It so often is a student vs. faculty gladitorial contest rather than a student with faculty association in supporting and encouraging community. Students have to tune into the professors’ wave length. Taking an exam is not learning; it’s psyching out and/or second guessing. Students don’t learn how to learn, they learn about the teacher. What else do you think all those bombardments of nervous questions–“What do you want?” “Can we” “What do you think about….” “Is it all right to…” “Are we going to get graded on….” “Are we allowed to….”Is this okay,” “Should we”–mean? The students give the prof what does he or she wants because all too often the prof wants back what he has given the student–sometimes almost verbatim–what he or she has lectured or handed out.

We assess them. We give them quizzes, pop or otherwise, test, exams, finals, and then the grade. The academic record, the course grade, the Grade Point Average, the entrance and professional exam scores, all become the primary criteria for evaluation on the unproven hope and silly assertion they will predict not only academic success, but professional achievement as well.

For the first 25 years of my academic career I was one of those professors. When anyone asked what I did, my answer was a quick throw my title at them: “I’m a Professor of history.” End of question and answer period. Translated that meant I did as I had been taught. I was subject-oriented; I focused on what I did; I transmitted information; I talked, they listened; I crammed them and jammed them, tested them, and graded them.

In beginning in early 1992, soon after I had my personal epiphany, I started on an evolutionary course and began answering the question of what I did became a more extended conversation of a staccato question and answer period.

“What do you do at the University?”

“I teach students.”

“Yes, I know. But, what do you teach them?”

“I teach them that they can be their own learners.”

“What department are you in?”

“History?”

“Why didn’t you say you teach history in the first place?”

“I don’t. I teach students.”

A translation of that conversation is that I was becoming learning-oriented and student-focused. It meant that I wanted to be there to help each person become the person he or she is capable of becoming. Lately, I feel that, too, is not really what I want to do. Whether I said, “I teach history” or “I teach students” I am beginning to see it still says I guide, I instruct, I impart, I show, I direct, I lead. I make known. I teach. Whether I have moved from being the proverbial sage on stage or guide on the side, I still do. I am slowly thinking I still have a ways to move, that where I presently am is still not where I should be.

Later.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Why do things seem to happen when I’m munching on my doughnut? This time, the other day, I was sitting out by the fountain in front of the library in the crisp sunlit air, sipping a cup of coffee and nibbling at a sinfully sticky glazed doughnut to get a sugar kick. After my second literally sleepless night tending my deathly sick Susan who was stricken with a bad case of the “crud,” I was gathering my strength and meditating for my upcoming class to get a spirit kick. As I sat there, this this shadow came over me. I slowly looked up and there was Cathy (not her real name).

As this smiling human eclipse hovered over me, she said, “Hey, Dr. Schmier, just the guy I was looking for. I’m trying to find the secret to being a great teacher. I want to write my English essay on it. How about it? Got a few minutes?”

“Sure,” knowing it never takes a few minutes. “Sit down,” I invited her by patting the cold concrete of the foundtain wall.

“Good,” she exclaimed as she sat down next to me. “So, what do think is the secret to being a great teacher?”

I hesitated. “First, tell me, you’re an ed major. Do you want to be a great teacher.”

“I knew it! You always do that!” she screamed at me with feigned frustration. “I’m the one who is supposed to ask the questions.”

“Well,” I smiled impishly, “if you answer me, I’ll answer you. Do you want to be a great teacher?”

“Boy, do I! I want to so bad.”

“How bad?”

“I can taste it.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well, I want everyone to be proud of me. You know from my journal that I’m the first in my family to go to college and I would be the first to be a professional like a teacher. You know, I can be someone they can be proud of and can brag on and have other people look up to. It was always expected of me by my family.”

“What do you want?”

“I just told you.”

“You probably won’t make it” I calmly stated.

She looked at me with a wounded and surprised look. “Why?”

“Wrong ‘why.'”

“Why?”

“It’s not your ‘why.'”

“Whose ‘why’ is it, then?”

“Someone else’s.”

“It’s my ‘why,’ too.”

“That’s not what you just said. Be careful that you’re sure of that. It’s got to be your true ‘I want to be.’ You can’t be something someone else wants for you. You can’t be someone else expects you to be. You can’t be someone you borrow from someone else. You can’t live a life following someone else’s map or walk someone else’s road. You can’t live someone else’s life, do what others expect, and be what they think is important. You just can’t. You sincerely have got to walk your own road according to your own true map wherever it takes you. I know all about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not you. You’re enslaving yourself.”

“To who?”

“To someone else’s dream. If you try to follow someone else’s dream, you’re not likely to reach for it or reach it. It’s not your goal. It’s not in your soul. Deep down you’re going to be frustrated and discouraged and maybe even come to dislike what you’re doing and you’ll get distracted and you’ll complain and you’ll start feeling sorry for yourself and find reasons to feel sorry for yourself and feel sorrier and trudge around and you’ll dam yourself up with “do I really want to” doubts and you’ll go into a rut. Working for someone’s expectations instead of your own means you won’t put yourself on the line, you won’t really be happy, you won’t really have fun, you won’t really stick to it, you’ll be easily distracted and won’t focus, you won’t teach with ‘wit’.”

“Wit? You mean with smarts?”

“WIT. W….I….T. You want to be a great teacher? I mean you have to do ‘whatever–it–takes,’ W….I….T, WIT, not just to try, not just to “do my best.” I mean you have to teach with a no excuse ‘whatever–it–takes.’ And for you to do that, it has to come from deep inside you.”

“What has to come from inside me?”

“You do. That powerful voice you listen to, that empowering burning desire, that intense focus, that pushing hunger, that insatiable taste, that driving need to be a great teacher. It has to be your voice, not someone else’s.”

“Did you have all that stuff of yours inside you when you started teaching? Did you have your own voice?”

“Not at first, or second, or third, not for thirty some odd years, not until a decade ago. If I did, all I heard and listened to was the echo of others’ voices. I was always trying to get their attention and approval. I screwed up in college trying to be what others expected of me, becoming a doctor, an M.D. type of doctor. I always had a sense of failure that I didn’t, and I had a sense of having disappointed them because I fell back and became ‘only’ a Ph.D. doctor. But, I convinced myself otherwise. I used to put a lot of effort into making believe I liked what I was doing and spent a lot of energy keeping up appearances at looking happy and looking like I was a success. It was the most loveless thing I could do to myself. But deep down….”

“No! For real?”

“For real. Teaching wasn’t something I really got the taste for, something that started burning in my gut, something I started needing, something that was important, something that was a top priority, something I was willing to pay the price for until a little over a decade ago.”

“Bet that was what made the difference between what you thought was possible and what you thought wasn’t.”

“Well, holding back doesn’t get you ahead.

“Where did this desire come fron?”

“I didn’t find it in some secret book, or a special class, or in some fix-it-all-up weekend workshop, some cure-all conference session, some magical technology, some special formula. Some people like to think that things like that exists. They don’t.”

“Well, where did you find it?”

“In me. Hidden deep inside me. Just it has to be for you.”

“Well, what was it that started burning and tasting that everyone knows you have today for us students?”

“Don’t know. I know when, but I don’t know why. Maybe it was a need to do something important instead of wanting to be important. Maybe it was a need to make a real difference. Maybe I had hit the combustion point when I just couldn’t do it anymore and didn’t realize it until I just found myself letting it all hang out. That’s that mysterious and lucky part that I don’t try to explain except that I found I already had the skills to become a great teacher. Just like you do.”

“You did? I do?”

“Sure. All of us do. You can dream; you can learn; you can be teachable; you can think; you can question; you can reflect; you can dare; you can adapt; you can adopt; you can imagine; you can create; you can discover; you can choose; you can decide; you can change; you can do. You just really have to believe you have them and have the courage to continually learn to use them.”

“Can’t be that easy. I bet it’s that ‘just’ stuff, that ‘now what am I doing to do about it,’ stuff that isn’t easy. If it was, everyone around here would be great teachers, and they sure ain’t.”

“You got it. It’s not easy. “Teaching” and “easy” aren’t ham’n eggs platefellows. You know I really admire the K-12 teachers and all they have to go through to train to teach and to keep on teaching. I think too many of us college profs think that there’s nothing to teaching, that there is really nothing you have to learn about it to do, that it’s a piece of cake, that all you have to do is to know your subject and talk about it, that anyone can do it, that you can do it in your sleep.”

“Some surely do that, sleeptalk I mean.”

“Well, you will find, like I did, that the road to becoming a great teacher is long and rocky and steep. Easy answers and getting solutions without work won’t get you where you want to be. All you have to do is immerse yourself, put in the time, always have the constant energy, constantly make the commitment, and always have the enthusiasm. They come as you constantly dig deep into the ore of your desire, mine it, smelt it, refine it, shape it, and use it.”

“That’s a lot of “all you have to do.”

“Well, you’re not going to do it all at once. You have to give yourself time. You have to be patient with yourself. And, you have to work at it. You just have to take a small step every day. It’s not how fast you go, it’s the direction in which you’re going. Besides, I just think even if you take a small step, you’re moving ahead and you’re doing great things.”

“That’s hard.”

“Patience is a strength. If you want it to be easy, you don’t have much confidence in yourself, you don’t have much faith in yourself, you’re disrespecting yourself, you’re slapping yourself in the face, and you’re giving yourself the greatest insult you can. If becoming a great teacher is really what you want to do, the hard work becomes as exciting and fulfilling as you can imagine. You know, what’s really, really great about the challenges that so many others avoid and miss when they treat teaching as ‘a piece of cake’ or something ‘anyone can do?”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll bump into all the magnificent opportunities. You’ll wondering at all those neat people around you. You’ll feel the surprise as all the possibilities that begin to appear. You’ll find all that priceless magic of your own that you see you can make. You’ll see how much is really inside you. You’ll gain such confidence in yourself. You’ll release all that enormous potential inside you for your own special greatness.”

“That sounds nice, but what are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that if you patiently take that hard journey and don’t avoid the challenges and persevere, you’ll will bring out stuff you never dreamed was inside you. Believe me; I know.”

“Look, I didn’t think it would take this long although with you I should’ve know better. I’ve got to go to class.”

“Okay.”

As she got up, she grabbed my arm. “Hey, I answered your questions. You didn’t answer mine. You didn’t tell me the secret to being a great teacher.”

“Sure I did,” I smiled.

“When? All we did was talk about me.”

I didn’t say a word. I cracked a slight grin. She looked at me, puzzled and slightly annoyed wrinkles appeared, crunching her face, slowly making her look like a Pug. And, then a twinkle appeared, the wrinkles straightened out, a smile came on her face…

“It’s me! The secret is me, isn’t it! I’m my own secret to being a great teacher! That’s no big secret!”

I broke into a big smile. “Who said there was a secret.”

She walked off. And, I, with a spirit kick, pulled a piece paper out from my pocket and started scribbling.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

I know. I’ve shared a lot lately. More than usual. I thought I was “worded out” last week. So, apologize for this one. I’ll go silent for a while. What stirred me was a brief conversation I had at a superbowl party yesterday. A middle-aged, colleague, who wasn’t all that much into football, same up to me and with a tone of surprise saying, “Louis, I heard you aren’t retired yet.”

“No.” I really didn’t want to talk “business” since I was enjoying the impending upset.

“How come?” she went on. “You’ve put in enough years to.”

“Why should I. I’m having too much fun.”

“Fun? Not me,” she answered with a hint of envy. “I can’t wait for it. I’m counting the years to go. I’m tired. I’m out as soon as I can be. You can take home right now as much if not more as if stayed on over there.”

“It’s only money. Too much is put on this retirement stuff. It not a purpose or a reason to get up. Besides, you must have a bunch of years to go.”

“Too many,” was her forlorn reply. And with a subtle sigh, she went to another table and went back to the game.

I didn’t pay much attention to that brief and chilling exchange until it reappeared as I struggled to get back in walking form this chilly, pre-dawn morning. It repeated almost word for word another conversation I had last Friday and a few days before that. Do you know how many times I’ve had that conversation lately? Think someone is giving me a hint that they want to put me out to pasture? You know the grass over there ain’t necessarily green. From her words and tone, my colleague and others like her seem to be asking for justification for being kind of negative and resigned, and asking approval for chasing what seems what they don’t have instead of using their own energies to relish what they do. So many of us teachers feel chained in. So many of us see a place filled with limitations, obstacles, problems, staleness, and complain about them as we focus on them. So many of us get up and don’t really want to go in. I choose to get up with an invigorating “yes!” I choose to feel free. I choose to see a place filled with freshness, possibilities, opportunities, a richness if you will, and am grateful for it. Can that be why so many people are surprised at my answer?

Yeah, I know. I’m sixty-one, although I feel like I’m a sprite eighteen. And yeah, I’ve been at Valdosta State for about 35 years. And still yeah, goodness knows how much more equivalency time I have in accrued sick leave since I’ve not taken a day I can remember. And a final yeah, the pay isn’t so great. Nevertheless, why would I retire? To what? You know I have discovered since the journey started by my epiphany in 1991 that, as Popeye, The Sailor Man says, “youse gets whats youse puts in.” What you see in yourself and teaching is what you get. Your view of yourself and teaching is what you will live. They will unfold as you expect. It’s that self-fulfilling prophecy stuff. Why should I fill my days with resentment, despair, anger, resignation, fear, cynicism? I don’t like being down or choose to feel miserable. I don’t want dark, cloudy days. I much prefer to see the sun shining even if it unseen above the clouds. I much prefer to fill my world with love, smiles, gratitude, appreciation, benevolence towards others, and treasure what I do in the splendor of each moment. I like and choose to feel happy and fulfilled. Hey, the recent unexpected death of two colleagues, one from a suicide, is a heavy reminder that today is my only day, that I’m fortunate to be living it in the way I do with what I have. I haven’t time to focus on the negative, to look back with regret or wait around thumbing for a ride to happiness and fulfillment that might come my way. It’s all around me right now, this day, with neat people. I enjoy being me, where I am, with whom I am, doing what I do.

Sure there are difficulties and disappointments, problems and concerns, obstacles. Hey, it would be the same wherever and whenever I would be and whatever I would be doing, retired or not. Fortunately, I feel fortunate. I’m still giving myself and others special gifts. I still look forward to interacting with those neat people. I still have great expectations. Each day is still fresh. Each day is a bunch of precious, irreplaceable experiences I still believe the best things are yet to happen. I am still convinced that the star has not yet to shine brightest in the good night. I know the flame has yet to burn its highest. I know the record harvest hasn’t yet been reaped. I still am willing to try new thing. I still relish trying new things. The challenge is still there; the adventure is still there; the discovery is still there; the meaning is still there; the excitement is still there; the feeling of being alive is still there. I still have a sense of what service is. I still have a sense to act with urgency, be patient to continue making the effort, and be patient for results. I still am determined to make each day count. I still believe each student is beautiful and wonderful and capable of doing great things, knowing each is a treasure yet to be discovered. I still admire each of them. I still appreciate the experience. The desire to make a difference in the lives of others is still there. I still have that bounce in each step. I still dance onto campus and into the classroom believing I will make that difference in as big a way I can today. Doggone I know the joy and excitement. Do these people know that I live in an incredible world, a world beyond conceivable richness? I live in that richness I look around and see all those people with whom I have the chance to experience all the opportunities of life. You know, I have found that if I live teaching, love teaching, make it even more magnificent and richer by being positive and present, the richness that is teaching will grow richer. Each moment with those people is a blessing a minute of which is too precious to waste with moping around.

Yeah, I know. People think that I’m idealistic, unrealistic, got my head in the clouds, am “touchy feely,” and all that. Well, I’m too busy to think what other people think, say, and do. I’m too busy lifing myself up to a high. I’m too busy living happiness and fulfillment. I’m too busy releasing that beautiful, worthy person inside me and being the catalyst for others to do the same to look back with regret. I’m too busy focusing on being the most authentic, loving, caring, faithful, believing, hopeful person I can be. Like the Duc de Saint-Simon said to himself each day, I’ve got too many great things to do today.

Why in heavens name would I choose to walk away from all that? That’s not rational. It’s insane!

Make it a good day.

–Louis–