Find Joy and Bring Joy

For the last few days, especially today, Dr. Martin Luther King Day, Elisha has me thinking about something she said, “I want to find joy and bring joy.”

Isn’t that what being a teacher is all about: getting out of ourselves and into others; caring less about our feelings, our happiness, our security, our convenience, our reputation, our renown, our comfort; caring more to serve, to concern ourselves with the feelings and needs of others; finding joy and bringing joy to ourselves and others? Leo Buscaglia once said that to be a lover you needed the subtlety of the very wise, the flexibility of the child, the sensitivity of the artist, the understanding of the philosopher, the acceptance of the saint, the tolerance of the scholar, and the fortitude of the certain. Not a bad definition of a teacher, is it.

In my struggle to be that lover, to be a servant-teacher, I consciously do three things each day: first, I make promises to myself so that I may serve students better and bring more joy; second, I’ll give whatever I have, I’ll take any risk, accept any challenge, rise to any occasion, do whatever it morally and legally and ethically takes to fulfill those promises; and finally, I honestly ask myself how many of the promises did I keep, and how I can be and do more.

So, at the beginning of each day, in one way or another, I am consciously asking myself one question: “Okay, Louis, how do you want your day to be?” The answer comes in the minute-by-minute choices I will make throughout the day. And, the choices that I make are the result of the extent to which I can keep the promises I make to myself at the beginning of and throughout each day: to be mindful and aware, to learn something new about me, to learn something new about someone else, to limber up and relax, to be willing to make mistakes, to be joyful, to hear and listen, to be excited and create excitement, to be ready to be surprised, to be uplifting, to smile and laugh, to look and see, to have only beautiful moments, to be curious, to be aware of the choices I make each moment, to be prepared for whatever might come, to know that I, like everyone around me, am growing and changing in thousands of different ways at different times, not to take my self too seriously, not to expect perfection, not to try to control, be aware of all the beauty in people around me, gently reach out and touch with my feelings and words and eyes and hands.

Now, fulfilling those promises is not a piece of cake. It’s more often than not an effort and a challenge. My friend, Brian Johnson, sent me a quote of Abraham Maslow: “You will either step forward into growth or you will step back into safety.” I think Maslow was saying that I always must keep my eyes on the prize, keep my expectations higher than my present reality, that who I become flows naturally from what I expect of myself and what I expect myself to be. That’s the choice, both Maslow and Yoda, and especially Dr. King, offer us, isn’t it: do or merely try, grow or stagnate, dare or cower, take it easy or labor, risk or play it safe; step forward or step back.

This Martin Luther King day. Dr. King was and remains an example of those same choices. After all, what is it that we are remembering and celebrating this day? His birthday? Not really. His lofty words? Sure. His dream? Of course. But, in truth, we are not just celebrating what he said or dreamt or what might have been had his life not been cut short. We are celebrating the simple fact that because of him we are closer to a cure for the disease of racial disrespect that afflicts us all. We are remembering that he was a “doer,” not merely a “tryer.” We are commemorating that because of him we are a healthier community, a better people, and a more just nation. We are consecrating the trauma and drama of what he did, the personal strength he and others had, the commitment they made, the unswerving dedication and perseverance they displayed, the risks they took, the dangers they faced, the sacrifices they made, the wounds they suffered, and the challenges they overcame to find joy and bring joy to all of us: in the sit-ins, the boycotts, the marches, the voter registration, the imprisonment; through the flames of threats, bricks, killings, bombings, conspiracies, beatings, angry mobs, water hoses, attack dogs, night sticks, hooded klansmen. This day of celebration and remembering is also a day of reflection. On this day, we ponder the promises we made, the risks we have taken, the promises we have fulfilled, the need for us to keep on going on and doing more.

That is the great lesson left us by the accomplishments of Dr. King shortened, but glorious life. Now, dedication, commitment, perseverance, risk, and danger in a classroom at Valdosta State University pale, to say the least, compared to a march in Selma, although the way a lot of academics act you wouldn’t know it. But, the lesson is there nonetheless. A lot of people wrote me off-list saying I was taking too much of a risk by allowing Elisha into class. Too much of a risk? What risk was I taking? What great, life-threatening leap did I make? I’m not going to be hauled off a lynch mob. No one is going to bomb my office. No one is going to torch the classroom. No one is going to beat me to within an inch of my life. No one is going to threaten the life of my wife and children. If there is a risk, it is the risk of doing nothing and telling the Elishas on our campuses that they aren’t worthy and worth our time and effort.

Some of us, unacceptably too many of us, are so busy hesitating because we’re standing around; we don’t feel in control or feel up to the task or don’t have guarantees or are afraid or are into ourselves or just don’t give a damn. We delicately tip-toe through minefields that we ourselves have laid for ourselves. We worry about looking bad; we second guess and rationalize; we rationalize; we have false expectations that teaching is easy, unconsuming, and challenge-free; we fall into the moaning “why me” trap; we want and wait for the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect student; we wait for that flashbulb moment of inspiration. Well, that flash won’t go off unless we pick up the camera, aim it, focus it, and press the button. Were I to play it safe and easy and cozy, any more than had Dr. King and the others in the Movement done so, none of those promises I make at the beginning of the day would be fulfilled at the end of the day. I’d put nothing on the line, do nothing, have nothing, be nothing, accomplish nothing, and become nothing. I’d not have the opportunity to uplift, to help heal, to help stimulate, to surprise, to help open new doors, to help bring in fresh air, to help instill a true loving of learning, to help bring light and create excitement in an otherwise darkened and deadening life such as Elisha’s.

So, at the end of each day, I make time to reflect on if I have fulfilled my promises to myself, have I made the choices that make the day the way I wanted it to be: is anyone a little happier because I came along, did I leave any imprint of my kindness and caring, did I help someone discover his or her own magic, did I help someone grow, did I help someone throw open his or her doors and windows of experience to his or her own uniqueness, did I make someone feel more secure, did I help someone smile or laugh, did I help ignite an inner glow, did I help someone have a beautiful moment, did I help someone ever so slightly develop a capacity into an ability, did I go through the day without a fret, did I learn something new about teaching, others, myself, and what do I have to promise myself for tomorrow?

I do these three things because I don’t want my credo or my avowed purpose to be like most shelved, dust gathering, seldom read campus mission statements: a lot of high-sounding, but empty and meaningless cliches, “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” I want that credo to be off the shelf, in my face, into my soul, as my on-going and never-ending guiding value light. I’d like to be able to say, to have others say each and every day, as they are saying of one of my heroes this day, that I am an adventurer, a discoverer, a doer, a maker of magic, a good, kind, uplifting, loving, joyful, gentle person who not only cared a lot, but cared to do a lot.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Patience: An Eleventh Word In My Dictionary of Good Teaching

3:00 a.m. Can’t sleep. The house is quiet. My angelic Susan is still in Charlotte tending her mother. I came back early because Robby had to chef on New Year’s Eve. Can’t walk. This stuffy cold is a drag. While waiting for the warm milk to kick in, I was going through a couple of weeks of backlog messages. I came upon one entitled “Another Word?” I knew it was from Kenny. He’s such a glorious pain.

“Hey, doc,” he wrote after the required inquiries about the holidays, “classes are about to begin again. What’s the “word for the term?”

The very next message gave me his answer. It was from another student who had graduated last May. She wrote in an air of frustration, “I want so much to help these rural kids. There’s so much to do and so much in the way, and I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to do it all. I’m so impatient! Help me!”

“Impatient.” That word struck home, especially now. I want to take you back to events that occurred at a dazzling, uncontrollable speed at one o’clock in the morning on December 24th near Macon, Georgia. I, Robby, and Nicole were driving to Charlotte to meet Susan for a family gathering: a dark, drizzly morning in Georgia, traveling at the 65 MPH speed limit, everyone asleep and buckled in, suddenly cut off, veered to avoid collision, lost orientation, windows awashed, couldn’t see, hit a low embuttment at nearly full speed, car took off, no time to have my life pass before my eyes, air bags burst opened, smoky haze inside the car, couldn’t see, front windshield exploded, couldn’t see, car hard front-landed half on slippery grass and half on asphalt shoulder, finally came to a halt, blessed ABS brakes, car is not in good shape, everyone came out of it without a scratch, finally made it to Charlotte just before Christmas Eve, hugged Susan a bit tighter, buried my head in her neck a bit deeper, a bit longer, a bit more lovingly with grateful tears in my eyes.

You have to understand that each moment after you survive being driven into a highway embuttment at nearly 65 MPH and come out of it without a scratch to yourself or your kids is one hell of a Chanukah present. I think I would recommend almost dying to everyone. It sure is a character builder. You come out of it with a much clearer understanding that the preciousness and beauty of life is important and little else truly matters. You feel a great release from what I’ll call “the body of wants.” All your senses are so honed that you get an intense and almost insatiable savoring of the glorious newness of each moment. As you capture each “this is it” moment, as you experience what in Zen is called, “the best season of your life,” as you make each moment vital and worth living, as you don’t let it slip away unnoticed and unused, you feel freer, lighter, happier, easier, and much more peaceful and more patient. If I had a deep appreciation and intense love of life, it was nothing compared to how I now feel. It’s amazing how five seconds can have such a profound impact on your life.

I told Selena all that was swirling in my head and heart and soul, and added, “It’s not a matter of keeping score. You have to first have to cultivate an inner attitude and ethical behavior of patience. Patience is far more powerful and wholesome than is anxiety. Patience is a theme that repreated over and over again in all of the world’s great philosophical and religious texts. The Greeks and Romans call it the greatest of all virtues. The early Christian fathers called it a “contrary virtue” to protect you against frustration and anger. In Zen it is a display of peace and compassion. In Islam, it is more important than prayer. It is seen as the companion, if not the root, of perseverance, trust, conviction, faith, stength, determination, hope, belief, wisdom, humility, courage, confidence, commitment, endurance, attention, awareness, mindfulness, understanding. Cultivate patience, then, you almost can’t help cultivating all these other ethical attitudes and behaviors. Be patient, especially with yourself. You want everything to change overnight? You know that saying about rebuilding Rome in a day? Maybe there is even a touch of arrogance and self-righteousness in such a hurried desire. There is a story in the Talmud that goes something like this: An aged man, whom Abraham hospitably invited to his tent, refused to join him in prayer to the one spiritual God. Learning that the old man was a non-believer, Abraham drove him from his door. Later that night, God appeared to Abraham in a vision. ‘I have borne with that ignorant man for 70 years,’ he said. ‘Could you not have patiently suffered him one night?'”

Feeling like Paul writing to the Galatians, I went on and said, “Tell me, what wound heals in a hurry? Ask any athlete what happens when you try to rush Nature’s healing process. Being in a hurry, wanting to do it all all at once, usually doesn’t help. You usually will just give yourself an Excedrin headache. It just muddies up the waters. The more patient you are, the clearer and sharper you will see and listen, the less things will be in a blur, the more you will understand, and the more you’ll be in touch. Sure, there is a lot to do. Sure, there is a lot that stands in your way. It’s okay to have a restlessness. Just have a patient restlessness. It’s okay to be in a hurry. Just hurry patiently. Just don’t push it and don’t let yourself be pushed. Sometimes you do an awful lot by not doing. Don’t flit about. Don’t let your anxieties and your desires and your needs dominate the quality of the moment. If you let yourself be blown about by the “I have to” winds, you’ll lose touch with those around you, who you are, and who you can be. It is the path to anger and frustration and burn out. Just don’t let yourself get down or tired. Don’t lose courage. Don’t lose heart. You have to acquire a strength to be weak. Nothing comes all at once. Things unfold in their own time one little step at a time. Renew yourself completely each day; do it again, and again, and again, and again and always again. Everything will come if you wait until the right moment comes for you to do the right thing with the right understanding in the right way. Learn to know how and when to push and how and when to pull and when not to push and when not to pull. None of this is easy.”

Nothing of what I told Selina is easy. Yet, patience is the essence of teaching. Patience affects the quality of your day and affecting the quality of your day is one of the greatest of talents. When we say, ‘I have no more patience,’ or ‘I’ve run out of patience,’ it is finished. Patience holds more freedom and compassion, it offers more discovery, it has a greater staying the course power, than we could imagine. I told Selena that when she is feeling impatient, she should look deeply to see if she has given up hope or is afraid of giving up hope. I quoted a Sufi saying: patience is fed on hope, it stands on the feet of hope. As long as there is hope, there is patience; and, when hope is gone, then there is no more patience.

“I think understanding the critical role of patience in teaching,” I went on to tell her, “is simple if we take a lesson from nature. Nature never starts big. In nature, change, growth, development always starts slow and small. There is no true suddenness in nature, no true spontaneous creation. Nothing ‘just pops up and happens’ spontaneously. Even in an earthquake or volcanic explosion, there is a slow build up. In my garden, if I want a flower I must have time, make the time, and give it time. There first must be the seed, then the seedling, then the plant, then the flower. Different flowers bloom at different times in different ways at different paces. They don’t bloom according to our time anymore than we bloom according to anyone else’s stopwatch. It’s no different with you, me, students, colleagues, or institutions. .”

So, thinking about what I said to Selina, “patience” is my next word, my eleventh I think, in my Dictionary For Good Teaching, that “word of the term” I will give Kenney.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–
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