Some of you have asked me more than a question or two. Does going over the material for a test enable students not to be responsible for their own learning? Does handing out questions some of which students are told are going to be on the test enable students not to be responsible for their own learning? Does dropping a test from the grade book because too many failed it enable students not to be responsible for their own learning? Does dropping the lowest test score before arriving at a term grade enable students not to be responsible for their own learning? Does giving extra credit for attending programs or deducting points for attendance, tardiness, or incivility enable students not to be responsible for their own learning? Does curving the grades enable students not to be responsible for their own learning? Does teaching to the test enable students not to be responsible for their own learning? Do these things and others like them hurt students to become dependent rather than independent? Can these things really teach them how to fish or merely how to catch a fish like a trained seal? In other words, though you say you’re teaching the students how to fish, in the end are they truly fishermen?

My immediate response is that I don’t know since that all this curving, dropping, adding and deducting points, and so on certainly skews the value of grades as indicators of learning. But that begs the questions. So, my first answer is that most of us academics were not trained for the classroom and are stumbling and groping around without admitting to our unpreparedness and amateurness; that many of us still ape our pontificating professors and how we were taught as students because it’s the easiest and quickest way to prepare for a class, and are satisfied with that; that many of us are on-site, on-going, self-taught students of “teaching” and “learning;” that many of us don’t’ really want any part of being in the classroom, seeing the classroom as the teaching chafe mixed in with the scholarship wheat; that many of us want to be known as scholars and professors, and not as teachers.

A second answer, related to the first answer, is that there is teaching and learning and there is teaching and learning. That is, the answer is as subtle and complicated as is the giving and serving and wisdom that is teaching. Nothing is cut and dry. It’s not easy to know who are “the good guys” and the “bad guys,” if those labels are applicable in the first place. There all kinds of definitions for and understandings about “teacher,” “student,” “teaching,” “learning,” and various ways to map meaningful routes. It’s a Gordian knot of intentions, attitudes, actions, purposes, visions, and practices that need a mountain of explanation and description and elaboration.

A third answer is that the boundaries between teacher and student varies and is constantly on the move because the playing field is never level and the players are never the same. The human heart and mind is vast and varied. Teaching and learning is a people enterprise and therefore no more pure than the imperfect and frail human beings who are engaged in it. We all, academic and student alike, are different people, enter the classroom by different routes, with different means, with different motives, with different measures of strengths and weaknesses, with different potentials, through different doors, carrying different kinds and weights of debilitating and distracting loads.

A fourth possible answer is that there’s a vast chasm between moral purity and practical exigency. Everyone wants concrete outcomes. Everyone wants demonstrable accountability so they can they show themselves and others how much bang they’re getting for their buck. Self interest subtly supersedes a sense of what needs doing and what should be done. Altruism vies with self-security. For-reputation contends with not-for-reputation. Uniqueness vies with conventional opinion.

A fifth answer is the equally vast gap between intention and action. That is, most academics, like most people, are overly optimistic about themselves, thinking they’re more caring, more empathetic, more kindly than others. They don’t have a good sense of themselves in this realm, as in most areas, and over-estimate their virtues.

Nevertheless, in any answer I am nervous about buzz words, code words, jargon, and labels. I don’t want to talk about student-centeredness, pedagogy, technology, methodology, or accountability. Instead, I want to talk about involvement, remembering that you can’t measure the value of time, of effort, of love, of faith, of encouragement, of the simplest gesture that can alter the course of somebody’s life.

From my experiences as a student, a talkoholic professor, a researchoholic professor, and now as a teacher, I’ve come to learn that there is a certain asymmetry in the classroom. We academics, with all of our resumes and degrees and titles and proclaimed independence, like students, listen closely to conventional opinion and ask “what do you want?” We can be stopped in our tracks, if not destroyed, by one word or action from ourselves, colleagues, or administrative superiors, but it takes constantly written reams of support and encouragement to help us find our better selves. Likewise, we can destroy a student with one word or one look or one action, but we constantly need compassionate paragraphs and constant empathetic gazes and dogged generous efforts to build them up, step by step, to encourage them to find their better selves.

From my own personal and professional experience, I don’t know of one academic who does not want to do good and to feel righteous, who is not motivated in some way to make something a little different, a little better. In hypothetical situations all academics believe they will follow their intentions and be guided by their hearts. When the chips are down, however, when tenure or promotion or appointment or livelihood is on the line, they realize what it will take to chart a course for their North Star. Some, too few, who are close to my heart, pick up the gauntlet fearlessly, willingly and whole-heartedly; some pick it up begrudgingly and hesitantly and fearfully; some take it up when it’s “safe,” and some take it up sometimes with attached strings. At the same time, some, too many, let it lie on the ground. They feel teaching poses no soul searching requirement or see no choice to be made. They say they are not Mother Teresas. They don’t feel part of being in any community or see the need to do so. They don’t care to establish relationships or become involved with students. Yet, they see the students within themselves, that is, who they once were. Students, they say, have the opportunity to become something from nothing, just as they did. They must assume totally responsibility for their own learning, just as they did. These academics aren’t unfair or even unkind. They’re just irritated by what they consider unintellectual, inappropriate touchy-feelyness, pandering, catering to, giving a hand-out to, and spoon feeding that interferes with the natural order of academic things. They feel such approaches merely encourage students to keep to their errant ways and avoid confronting them with a challenge to engage in a more constructive behavior. If students don’t take advantage of what is before them, if they don’t toe the line, if they don’t possess midnight oil and elbow grease and a grindstone, unlike these academics supposedly had in their student days, they must be incompetent and/or unprepared for the task or lazy, certainly unworthy of consideration. In short, they believe fervently that such irresponsible students don’t belong within the hallowed, ivied, ivory walls of academia and it would be a service to all to cull them out. They will not go out of their way to reach out to students whom they feel are undeserving; they will put up a wall of anonymity between themselves and such students with proclamations of “I don’t’ have the time” or “I don’t see the need to bother,” for while they may have to be in the classroom with all students by necessity, they can narrow the choice of with whom they will interact. If a student, however, who has proven him/herself “deserving,” reaches out to them, approaches them, “begs” for assistance they are there to hand our academic alms, but even then not always willingly, and not always in a way that makes the student feel wanted and uplifted. It is one thing to give a lecture, hold court and grant an audience with a student but be engaged only with yourself and/or your scholarship; it is another thing to be willing to occasionally disengage yourself from your scholarship and be engaged selectively with one of the “proven” students; it is still another thing to be engaged with each and every supposedly “undeserving” students as well as the “deserving.” Why the distinctions? Because engagement follows a passion, and passion has a burning vision and purpose and meaning, and burning vision and purpose and meaning demand the attention, time, and effort.

At the same time, though four centuries apart, both Galileo and Carl Rogers agree that we cannot teach people anything; we can only help them discover that which is within them. No one can force a professor to be sincerely empathetic to all students; no one can mandate anyone not think of teaching as a sacrifice of valuable time and effort that can best be utilized elsewhere; a sense of service cannot be ordered; kindness and goodness cannot be willed upon anyone; generosity cannot be legislated; to faith in, belief in, and hope for each and every students cannot be commanded. Yet, though these virtues are not genetically embedded in any one of us, they can be planted, nurtured, and instilled. They cannot be instilled, however, by force or manipulation or promise or reward or enticement or penalty or inducement or order or threat. There is evidence all around us as proof of that. However, they can be informed, supported, encouraged with deliberation, gentleness, patience, persistence by the instiller and acts of instilling. Sometimes this instilling goes by the name inspiration and motivation and edification. It can be done by pressing ourselves, by slowly opening our eyes, by slowly being aware, by very carefully looking at ourselves and others before we judge and jump to conclusions, by increasingly questioning our mindsets, by more honest self-reflection and examination, by increasingly looking for the possibility of everyday miracles occurring, by seeing the endless possibilities that lie within us, by seeing the choices we have in our response to what life throws at us in the classroom, by seeing that we can improve ourselves to become better persons. It can be instilled by pressing students, by slowly helping students to open their eyes, making them aware, by very carefully helping them look at themselves and others before they judge and jump to conclusions, by assisting them to see the endless possibilities that lie within them, by helping them see the choices they have in response to what life throws at them.

Of course a lot of academics think all this is touchy-feely nonsense not to be taken seriously–unless, of course, they happen to be the ones who are on the receiving end.

Maybe that is what teaching is really all about: refusing to accept complacency, rejecting completeness, denying perfection, ignoring conventional wisdom, carrying our reflections and awarenesses into challenging and uncomfortable and inconvenient realms, shaking ourselves up, seeing the need to change, seeing our world and the world around us changing, struggling to convince ourselves and others that we, academic and student alike, can and must improve ourselves, that we all have it within us to be better at day’s end then we were at day’s dawning, better at the end of the term than we were on the first day of class, better at graduation than when we all first met that first day of the first year, better when our lives come to an end than when we all were born. That’s what teaching “wisely” is all about, and I find it has a better chance of avoiding “compassion fatigue” or “pedagogy weariness,” that is, what is called “burn out.”

None of this should be an after thought, a post script, expressed only in end of term student evaluations, annual faculty evaluations, annual institutional reports, or graduation speeches. It should be who we are, our intimate agenda that’s woven into every fiber of our being, hardwired into our soul, placed close to our hearts, be an intrinsic part of every second of every feeling and thought and action of teaching. It should be what each of us consciously and conscientiously does, models if you will, without reluctance, without arrogance, without self-righteousness, without sacrifice, almost anonymously, each day. Then, we would understand what Thomas Edison meant when he said, “If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves.”

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

“It” happened almost eight months ago. I don’t know why I suddenly remembered it on my walk this morning, but I did. Maybe thoughts of Maimonides’ Ladder of Tsedaka are still lingering in my mind. Maybe it was my President’s sincerely humble “thank you” to those attending his session in which he discussed the art of art displayed in his one-man, making me, as well as others present, know our attendance was meaningful to him. Maybe it was the non-traditional student who stomped into my office earlier in the week like a snarling grizzly bear whose cubs had been threatened after a being treated “by that *&#*@($% professor like I was a piece of low-life nothing to him.”

Anyway, it was the end of January, only a couple days after the surgery that removed my cancerous prostate. There I was, lying uncomfortable in a hospital bed, making a dear friend of the comforting morphine pump, not wild about the less-than-friendly catheter in me, looking like an animated zipper, and certainly not looking forward to my first full hospital meal.

In comes the quiet, sour-faced hospital attendant delivering my meal. She reminded me more of a care taker than a care giver. I saw hanged-necked vultures on her shoulders instead of loving doves. And, I would just not have it.

“Smile,” I smiled in the near-whispered tone of a near-plea.

“I don’t feel like smiling. I’m having a bad morning,” she sharply replied as she less than gently plopped the tray down.

“You’re having a bad morning? What do you think my morning is like after they cut me from my belly button to my penis, took out my cancerous prostate, and stuck this catheter in me? I’m not pushing this button on the morphine pump to build up my thumb muscles.” I softly said and then broadened my smile, “I’m facing incontinence and impotence when I get out here. And you’re having a bad morning? This morning I need a smile from you and a soft ‘hello’ and a ‘how are you feeling today.’ You’re a care giver. Care. Give me some caring. You’ll be doing something important for me. It’ll help.”

She hesitated and looked at me as if I had broken her out from some dark trance of unworthiness. A quizzical look appeared on her face. “Me? A care giver? I’m just servin’ meals.” she asked incredulously but obviously wanting to believe. “I ain’t nothin’.”

Boy, did my antennae shoot up! “No you’re not. You’re something. Anyone who comes into this room to do anything to take care of this room and me is a care taker who is important for my recovery. So, how about a smile and something nice to say.”

She looked at me. Smiled. And then said with a warmth and sincerity, “I’m sorry. You’re right. Hope you’re feeling better today.” She came over to my bed, softly touch my hand that was punctured by a IV, “I guess I needed to hear that I could help you today. It makes me feel good. You just kinda healed me. Thank you.”

“That makes two of us,” I said with a return smile. “We each did a little act of kindness for each other. I made you smile and feel better, and you smiled and made me feel better. You know, every time we show we care about someone we feel we’re worth something. And, I don’t care what anyone says or thinks. Don’t feel there’s something wrong with you. There’s nothing ‘nothing’ about what you’re doing. What you’re doing is important. Every caring smile is important.”

“That’s true, sure enough,” she replied as a tear swelled in her eye. “I’d like to tell someone that.”

“Healed? You? Me? Tell someone?” I asked as I caught on. It was obvious that she was struggling with feelings of not being good enough, smart enough, and deserving enough. We talked for a few minutes. It seemed her supervisor had just treated her in a way that had reduced her from a sacred person to a deficient staff member and had minimized her task to a menial level of insignificance.

As she left to serve others, I said, “Be your own friend. Be your own fan club. You deserve it.” She turned and said, “I’ll sneak up some tasty Jell-O for you later.” At that moment, she walked out of my room joyful and contented.

After I left the hospital, I called the hospital administrator and spoke with whom I assumed was his secretary. I was not surprised at her response when I told her how important a job Yolanda (not her real name) had done during my stay in the hospital and I much I really appreciated her. “But all she does is serve meals,” the secretary responded with surprise.

“No, that’s not all she does and if you think she doesn’t reach out and serve more than meals, you’ve identified a big problem the hospital has,” I said, “Trust me. She does more.” Repeating what I told Yolanda, “When she comes into the hospital and into my room, she’s a care giver. Treat her that way. I didn’t know there was such a person as insignificant menial workers in a hospital or that there was such a thing as an unimportant menial work. She is especially important because she comes into contact with the patients. Your Yolandas are not insignificant!” I went on to tell the secretary from my view as a patient that the right words at the right time with the right gesture in the right tone from anyone have a powerful healing effect on patients. A quiet smile comforts them and helps them deal with the pain. A soft ‘good morning’ helps them keep on going. A compassionate touch helps them feel alive. “One more thing, it doesn’t cost anything to applaud the Yolandas. It certainly won’t hurt either the mission or the image of the hospital. Think how happy they’d be, how worthy and dignified they’d feel. They’ll will do a better job because they feel noticed and will know what they are doing is important…..Some of your doctors and nurses should understand that.”

And, so should some of us academics. Now let’s bring this issue onto our campuses.

Think about how we, in our academics positions of authority, can be of service to ourselves, each student, our colleagues, and to each staff member in our day-to-day lives inside the classroom and out if in ourselves and in others we cultivated a radiant heart and empathetic understanding of others and wrote our own book of love, faith, and hope. What would happen if we thought that each student was okay and stopped looking around the corner for something that’s wrong with them. Think about how much more the students will strive if they feel respected, cared about, noticed, and worthy. What does it cost to notice them, to offer them a greeting, to smile, even to shake a hand or pat a shoulder?

The after glow of my experience seven months ago reminds me once again how much right can be done by someone by showing “there’s nothing wrong with you,” how much little effort it takes to do a lot for someone else, how long lasting a single, thoughtful act can last, how a low energy gesture can carry high voltage current; how a soft word can loudly resound, how much more you acquire than you can give, and how much you can give without giving yourself away while, in an other sense, giving yourself away.

To be genuinely kind, giving, open, accepting, patient, empathetic, loving, supportive, encouraging, and compassionate with abandon and with no strings attached can renew someone’s faith in him/herself; it can restore someone’s self-worth; it can instill a dignity. It can even save a life. And, trust me, I know, it is a salutary way of teaching. It can fill us with such vast amounts of ever growing inner wealth, fire, and energy, we’d never be depleted, burnt out, or exhausted.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

I was sitting in synagogue last Saturday. I really didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be working on the renovation of my master bedroom. But, we have Saturday services only once a month, and for the sake of supporting our small congregation and making sure the rabbi had a minyan (quorum), and at the nudging of my Susan, she and I went. As I was lazing around in the pew, not really being into it, thinking about how I could be using my time more productively stuccoing the bedroom walls, the rabbi asked us to go to a page prayer book. We had never read that particular prayer before. I matter-of-factly turned the pages in the prayer book. The prayer was about Maimonides’ “Ladder of Tzedaka.” “Tzsdaka” is often translated as “charity,” but in the Jewish tradition, the word “tzedaka” doesn’t mean charity in the normal sense of the word. It really means “justice,” that is, it is an obligation to do rightly with your fellow persons. The lowest of the eight rungs on Maimonides’ ladder is what we call giving when you don’t really want to–something like me being in synagogue this day and what too many of us academics do in the classroom. But, it was the eighth and highest rung on the ladder that hit me square between the eyes and penetrated deep into by soul. The greatest tzedaka, said Maimonides, is to give in such a way that you strengthen a needy person until he or she no longer needs and can stand independent and self-sufficient. It is a requirement based on Leviticus 25:35 which reads, “You shall strengthen the stranger and the dweller in your midst and live with him.” Its cornerstone is to fulfill this obligation while respecting the individual and preserving his or her dignity. Suddenly, I saw the word “teaching” replacing “tsedaka.” I straightened up and I thought to myself, “That’s what makes teaching a sacred striving. It’s on the highest rung of tzedaka. What makes it itself a state of grace is when, without self-righteousness, arrogance or a haughtiness, without derision, scorn, or denigration, without reluctance, begrudging, or moaning, but with kindness and love and compassion, you engage with each student, and help the student help him/herself become empowered, free, and self-reliant. It’s that “teach a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime” thing. I’ve not been able to think about much else since. Sometimes you don’t ask.

Teaching and learning is tricky because it doesn’t merely involve the matter-of-fact transmission of information. It involves people both as teachers and learners. And, people are complicated. There’s nothing simple about people however we academics try to convince ourselves otherwise. There’s something about teaching that makes so many academics nervous, and I don’t think it’s all about being trained as future scholars and not being trained as future classroom teachers, although that’s part of it. I don’t think it is all about the need to become a learner of the learning processes of human learning and the reluctance to see the need and to find the time to become one, although that, too, is part of it. I don’t think it’s all about the need to change who they are and what they do, although that is also a part of it. I don’t think it’s all about the second class status teaching actually holds on our campuses, although that also is part of it. I don’t think it’s all about being in the classroom while your heart is in an archive or laboratory researching, or in your office writing, and that is part of it as well. Maybe it has something more to do with the struggle of finding ways of doing good, being a good person, and having the good life. Maybe the solution to that struggle is not to be a better lecturer or tester or discussion leader or grader; maybe the solution is not found in some method, technique, or technology. Maybe the solution is to be a more aware person, a more empathetic person, and a more caring person of yourself and others.

So what is teaching all about if not solely about information transmission and reception? Well, if you use Leviticus and Maimonides as a guide to find your way through the pedagogical maze of lectures, group work, tests, scores, accountability, assessment, curriculum, degrees and so on, it’s pure and simple; it’s about the intention to have a purpose higher than merely offering the alms, begrudgingly or otherwise, of what the jargon calls “covering the material” or “mastery of a subject.” Intention, what we plan on living for and what we plan on doing to live, where we’ll put our time and energy, what we decide is sacred, will determine what and how we will be and do today, tomorrow, next week, the coming months and years. And, according to Maimonides, what should we strive for, what should our intentions be? That, too, is simple, but challenging: be generous; be giving; and be empowering. Sums up what teaching should be, doesn’t it. Generosity is about crying each day for each student rather than crying only about that grant, conference paper, book, appointment, promotion, etc. Giving is about placing our importance second to the needs of a student; it’s about caring about people rather than about position or promotion or reputation; it’s about opening ourselves to others/ worlds. Empowerment is relinquishing “this is what I want” or “be quiet and just do as I say” or “or else” fearful and often manipulative control.

There is a power in these three virtues. You’re never saddened by being generous; you’re never poorer by giving; and, you’re never weakened by empowering. They’re a daily reaching out to benefit both each student and each of us. These three virtues should color every relationship every day both in the classroom and campus; they should touch every moral and ethical virtue; they should grease our daily living. How do we become better teachers? How do we become better people? The answer is really simple but challenging: by helping others help themselves, by respecting them, by serving them, by affording them their dignity, by stripping them of a dependency on others, by helping them tap their own imagination and creativity, by having them take their own risks, by allowing them to make their own mistakes without penalty, by relinquishing control, by instilling in them confidence in their own ability, by helping them rewrite their own negative script by being positive, by replacing their praise deficit with a praise surplus, by helping them see in themselves what you see, by helping them find their own solutions to their dilemmas, by helping them stop walking the way fear makes them move, by helping them start walking the way courage makes them move, by helping them to care about themselves and others, and by being a source of strength to them.

The more generous, giving, and empowering we are, the better the students live, and the better we live. It’s the secret of living a wonderful life and having a fabulous career. These virtues will place bright spots before your heart and eyes, and you’ll nurture them until they explode into wondrous novae; you’ll have endless, fatigue-defying energy from which to draw; you’ll respond to the less than perfect students with positive, life-affirming love. And, you’ll feel that “helper’s high.”

There’s a special joy in helping a student you don’t find in publishing a book or giving a conference paper or receiving a grant. I once told a friend of mine that our sense of self-worth is nourished when we engage in acts of caring, in those little daily acts of kindness. As we are compassionate for others, we tend to add value and meaning to our lives. We all feel that “feel good feeling” helper’s high when we help a student help him/herself. Once having soared, I assure you, you won’t succumb to landing in the grips of a bog of self-doubt and pessimism. We’re not different from students. The less self-doubt we have, the less prone we are to fear, self-depreciation, and discouragement. And the less we allow these eclipses to blot out our light, the more we feel exhilaration, the more our convictions are strengthened, the more courageous we are, the more we are emotional secure; it builds our inner strength, and floods us with a sense of being a “good and faithful servant.”

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Couldn’t sleep. Went out for a walk about 3:45 a.m. The silent air had a soothing coolness about it. I have always found walking therapeutic. And though I can’t as yet power walk, my five mile, one hour of brisk walking frees my inner voice. As I was walking this morning, I was particularly conscious of each step. Each step is so critical in my walk. Each step is always a prayer that makes my body healthier and my life richer. Each step is an important part of my eyes-wide-open meditation-on-the-move. Each step heightens my senses, renews my spirit, awakens my self-awareness, and sharpens my awareness of things and people around me. The regular rhythm of movement helps me reflect, clears my head, and puts me in touch with my deeper feelings and values. That step gathering hour on the pre-dawn road gives me time to listen to my life and gather perspective on it. I always seem to come back from these walks in a relaxed and peaceful frame of mind with a fresh perspective on whatever it is that’s going on in my life. Equally important, I come back with a renewed commitment and resolve to stay the course no matter how difficult things get.

“Each step….” You know so often so many of us look at the great journey and forget the importance of each small step of which that journey is composed. I guess I was concentrating on those two words because of a telephone conversation I had the other day. A past student, and aspiring teacher, and I were talking about the critical role “each step,” both figuratively and metaphorically, plays in making a difference. Here are bits and pieces of our exchange. Please don’t hold me to each word.

“I just read a bunch of your Random Thoughts….I had to call you….I want to make a big difference, too,” she said in a tone that was almost a plea. “Do you think it’s important to want to do that?”

“Yes,” I quickly answered. “I think it sets you on fire. And, as long as you’re on fire, you won’t burnout. The more you have meaning in your teaching, the more hits you’re able to take, the less disillusioned you’ll be, the less stressed you’ll become.”

“How can I do it? How can I make that great difference in someone’s life?”

“Start with your life. By making small differences every day in your everyday life,” I quickly answered. “You’ll slowly change you and then those around you. You can’t change what you do unless you change who you are.”

“That will take a long time.”

“Sure will. I’ve been working on changing for the last fifteen years and will keep on doing it until the day they bury me. You don’t want to hurry it.”

“I am in a hurry.”

“Doggone, you’re only twenty-six. It’s like you have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. Don’t be in a hurry. Please. You remind me of the Zen story of a martial arts student who went to his teacher and said earnestly, ‘I am devoted to studying your martial system. How long will it take me to master it?’ The teacher’s replied casually, ‘Ten years.’ Impatiently, the student answered, ‘But I want to master it faster than that. I will work very hard. I will practice everyday, ten or more hours a day if I have to. How long will it take then?’ The teacher thought for a moment, ’20 years.'”

“I don’t get it.”

“Don’t go for the home run on the first swing. Trying too hard can often be as unproductive as not trying at all. When you get too caught up in your efforts, you get caught up in yourself. You can lose track of why you’re making the efforts. Take the time, again and again in the midst of it all, to remember why you do what you do…..The more you want to hurry it, the more you don’t really care about it or care to do it carefully, and the more you really want to get on to other things…. Swing easy. A single will do….Real progress will come at the pace at which you can give yourself fully and sincerely to the effort. You’ve got to focus; you’ve got to be aware; you’ve got to see the details. If you attempt to rush the process, you may accumulate some meager tokens of success, but you will fall short of achieving real success itself….It took you a while to get into your present habits. It’s not going to take a magical finger snap to break the old habits. Be patient with yourself. To learn to make a difference you have a lot of unlearning to do. Move deliberately. Don’t blur things by rushing. Take care of the unexciting, tedious, mundane and you’ll find them exciting. You’ll find it easier to be open-minded, to feel engaged, to be ready to see and listen and learn and change. If you take your time, if you move slowly in small steps, if you don’t set limits on yourself, if you keep your eyes and ears open, if you’re curious, you’ll feel a funny buzz of possibility: that you can do almost anything; go off in any direction you choose; that everyone is worthy of your time and effort. Making a difference is almost always the result of small efforts repeated over and over again, multiplied again and again and again. It’s just a matter of putting enough of those small, simple actions together in the same direction for the same cause. That’s the composition of the ‘great difference.’ There are no short cuts!”

“But, when are small steps big?” she asked.

“Ask each drop of rain that question as it slowly erodes the hardest rock even though you can’t see it chiseling away. Its answer would be the same as mine: ‘always.’ You have to learn to constantly and incessantly smell the delicious bouquet of everydayness in the classroom, marvel at each student’s complexity, and have a boundless fascination each day with each student as if you were an adventurer with an insatiable curiosity.”

“But, what’s makes them going to make the difference?”

“You. Your cause. Your purpose. Your vision. Your meaning. You caring. Without any of these you’ll have no chance of having an effect. The purpose, a meaning, a passion that you are driven to express and fulfill; staying guided by that purpose, staying connected to that passion, keeping on listening to that purpose.”

“How do I get there?”

“By being totally where you are now. By stop thinking about it. Look, it’s great to want to make a difference, but you’ve got to develop it from where you are now. If you’re constantly wishing that you were somewhere else, or that other things were happening, you’ll miss a lot the opportunities where you are now. When you’re in another zone, you’re zoned out and whatever you do loses much of its impact. It’s great to dream, to plan, to aspire, to reach for new and improved circumstances. And yet the way to successfully do whatever it is you want to do is by giving it everything you’ve got in the place where you now find yourself. Those small opportunities are everywhere, and you don’t have to beg or plead with anyone to give you access to them. You simply have to see the potential they represent, and then go for it.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Let’s do it this way. Do you think you’re a fully difference-making teacher the second you first stepped into the classroom?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I had a lot to learn.”

“Do you think you’re a difference-making teacher now?”

“No. That’s why I called you.”

“Do you think what you’ve got to learn is going to be quick and easy?”

“No.”

“Bingo! Now, start doing what you tell students. Stop being in a hurry. No short cuts. No easy way. No magic wand. Creating something of value takes time and effort. The thing to do get in a rhythm to make that effort, make that effort, make that effort, make that effort. Getting beyond the difficult challenges will require persistence and diligence. The thing to do is to keep going. You’ve heard me say that every great journey begins with a step. Well, then, when you seek that big destination, start with and continue with the small changes, the small steps. They are the ones that will most reliably get you there. Be patient with yourself. In every moment, in every situation, there is some small detail you can attend to, some small challenge that you can embrace. Make a habit of always giving whatever you can, and you’ll reach the point where you can achieve whatever you wish. Baby steps aren’t babyish. Small steps aren’t small….There’s no such thing as a small and insignificant step in any of that great journey. The smallest steps, like supposed insignificant snow flakes that gather into a massive blizzard, gather into that great journey. No, the smallest change, the smallest step, can make the biggest difference and make the journey great. Keep in mind, most big deals are little more than the result of a bunch of those supposedly inconsequential ‘no big deals.'”

“But, that’s all you write about in your Random Thoughts that I get, those great changes that occur in a flash, those great differences you’ve made in the lives of others,” he retorted

“That’s all? Do I? Really? You’re only remembering a few occasional ones out of the hundreds I’ve shared over the years and screening out all the others that record my ever-evolving journey of small steps,” I reminded her. “Maybe it’s just that I’ve taken more small steps longer than you have.”

I described to her my grand-daughter’s attempts to begin walking. Jacqueline is not suddenly jumping up and sprinting a world record-breaking hundred yard dash. She’s not in one deciding moment leaping over a tall building in a single bound. She’s not smoothly gliding down a model’s runway. No, she’s gathering up steam. She’s practicing, taking risks, practicing, taking risks, practicing, taking risks, practicing. She is teeter-tottering, slowly learning to balance standing up, more slowly learning to balance on the move, being awkward, developing the necessary coordination of all parts of her body, gathering courage, gaining confidence, building up her muscles, even taking a bruise here and there. She falls; she gets up, falls, grabs a hold, and gets up. She’s not letting anything stop her. Each day, each hour, each minute it has become a routine: getting up; holding on; reaching out; letting go; bravely taking a tottering, awkward step here; falling back on her heavily padded, diaper protected butt, getting up; holding on; reaching out; letting go; taking a tottering step there. Not one step is ordinary. Every one is filled with the endless possibilities of taking a meandering walk down a path in awe of nature, of taking up the challenge of hiking up a mountain, of jumping on a trampoline, of dancing with a partner, of racing into a burning building to save someone’s life, of winning an Olympic god medal, of taking her own children to the park. Each step is one small step for a little girl and one giant leap for humankind. Each small, hesitant step is a small, positive change that will profoundly influence her world, as well as that of her parents, me and my Susan, and all around her. When she made that small change, she influenced how she and all around her will live each coming day. And, that is no small change!

“Want to make it big?” I asked her.

“I told you I do….

“Then, let me repeat myself. Learn to walk! I can’t tell you empathically enough, give yourself time; go for the small stuff. You, I, all of us far more capable of what I’ll call the ‘triumph of the little step’ than we are of the giant leap. It could be something as simple as choosing to start each day with a confident smile and an arousing ‘wow’ and a determined ‘yes’ instead rather than a dampening ‘ho-hum’ or a paralyzing ‘yuk.’ Or, you could greet a member of the cleaning crew with a bright “hello” instead to seeing through him or her as if she were made of cellophane. Or, you could decide that something which had always irked you about a student you just won’t let get to you anymore. Or, you can notice something different about a student and compliment him or her rather than placing him or her in the shadows among the unnoticed. Even one small change can have a large positive impact on your life because the benefits of that small change are repeated day after day. Keep adding smaller, positive changes from time to time, and the results can be truly incredible and the big difference can happen….Then, see small is big and make what is supposedly small into something big!” Think small. Find the small. Do the possible small. If you think making a difference only in terms of the monumental efforts, giant leaps, hole-in-ones, ‘hail Mary’ touchdown passes, and ‘Hollywood moments,’ you’ll miss most of the best possibilities to make a difference. In the quiet, ordinary days, while doing routine, ordinary things, the real and lasting stuff grows and grows. It’s in the smallest moments that comes the biggest opportunities. In the most ordinary events and efforts and acts come the most extraordinary possibilities for joy, fulfillment, accomplishment, and difference. That’s when you realize how truly extraordinary it is to be a teacher. It’s the ‘everyday’ when you can most fully express the perseverance, dedication, faith, hope, support, encouragement, seeing, listening, all that is the substance and goodness of who you are. The more fully you put yourself into the ordinary moments, the more to take the ordinary moments less for granted, the more you are aware of them, the more value they will bring. And, when you find the value of the small acts and simple moments, you’ll find the value will richly fill you and you’ll treasure them. They’re easily accomplished, but they will steadily take you to where you can make the big difference. There’s something else I want us to discuss, but for now ‘small’ with do.”

“Small!” Now that I’ve thought of our conversation, that’s a good word for my Dictionary of Good Teaching. I’ll send it to Kenny.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

I haven’t been in the mood to write lately. I don’t know why. I just knew the spirit wasn’t there and I wasn’t about to force it just to write for the sake of writing. Then, a few mornings ago, as I felt deeply sorry for myself that the hurricane Katrina had caused such a scarcity of gas on I-75 here in Georgia that Susan and I couldn’t drive to Nashville for a few “grandbaby spoiling” days, I was blasted by a “serves you right” Category 4 message from a professor at a northwestern university. She was responding to a Random Thought entitled, “Ah, Me” that I had written last April. For you who don’t remember, it was about a student who had taken advantage of an offer I had made to her and who had decided, upon the advice of her parents, that getting the better grade was more important than doing the right thing.

“I could have told you what she would have decided. No mystery. How can you have such faith in students?” she asked. With an interesting intensity, we she on, “They haven’t earned it. They don’t deserve it. They’ll cheat and take short cuts every chance they get. They want everything to be so easy. They don’t want to exert themselves….they want a lot for so little….This student is proof to me why I am right to never trust a student….Your way is starry-eyed and fool hardy….You’re a dreamer. What you’re asking is impossible….Your faith in students is a poor strategy of teaching. Our time is too valuable to get involved with such things that waste our time and efforts. So, I don’t bother with any of them. I’m sure you won’t anymore. In your case, I would have been too embarrassed to have shared with the world how easily I had been suckered.”

As we e-mailed back and forth, she was surprised when I told her that not only would I do it again without any hesitation, but instead of indulging in self pity, I am at this very moment giving another student a second chance. “He’s coming through and keeping his word,” I explained. “How do you account for that?”

“He’s the exception,” she replied. “You’re just lucky–so far. Just wait. You’re taking some risk….You’ll be victimized again.”

Her haunting phrases–“never trust a student,” “haven’t earned it,” “they don’t deserve it,” “poor strategy,” “our time is too valuable,” “don’t bother with any of them,” “suckered,” “victimized,” “they,” “us”–smacked not so much of haughtiness and arrogance as they did anger, cynicism, frustration, hurt, defensiveness, dismissiveness, hopelessness, disbelief, meaninglessness, and/or maybe fear and powerlessness. With such an apparent lack of faith and belief, such limiting and discouraging thoughts I can’t imagine how her classroom life can be truly bearable for her. “Carpes Diem” doesn’t seem to ring in her soul. Though I asked, I don’t know why this professor to choose the attitude she currently has. From years of conversation, I do know she is not alone.

As I read and reread her words, as well as those of our subsequent conversations, I thought of all those moments during the eight weeks between the moment I heard that I had a cancerous prostate and the moment the prostate was surgically removed. I thought of all those moments between the time I heard “you’ve got cancer” and the time I heard “we’ve got it all.” I thought of all those moments in the months between the operation and my recovery, a recovery which, after eight months, is still not complete. I thought of all those moments of six months between the time of the urologist unhesitatingly declared success and my PSA tests that proved him right. And, I thought of all the choices I had to make about living my personal and professional lives. Life in general, and so life in the classroom, comes at us without warning. What each of us chooses to think of ourselves and our world has an enormous impact on what direction we point ourselves, how we each relate to and deal with life and life in the classroom, and how we influence those around us. There is a choice each of us has to make in everything we do and about everything we experience. And, as we choose, we should never forget that the choices we make, both reveal us and make us.

Heck, we all will feel betrayed, we all feel advantage of, we all feel disappointed, we all feel frustrated, we will all feel threatened. It is our choice whether we let these feelings naturally fade to pale images or let them hold us hostage, intensely hold on to them tightly, and give them permission to increasingly weigh us down, eat at us more and more, diminished us more and more, atrophy us more and more. Of course, they don’t do all this to us; we do it to ourselves, for they can do nothing without our permission. We can live in the shadow of our anxieties, suspicions, and fears. We can fret. We can choose to use our disappointment or hurt as an excuse or explanation to waste what we still have and can do. We can shun. We can embrace. We can accept defeat within. We can achieve victory within. We can be clinical. We can be involved. We can see more of. We can see less of. We can find common bonds. We can sever all bonds. We can widen chasms. We can build bridges. We can choose to be teachers who are not teachers in spirit. We can choose to be spirited teachers. We can turn the warm, bright, and joyous simple and deep moments of opportunity to make a difference into cold, dark, joyless squanderings. We can see and listen or we can ignore and overlook. We can notice or turn a proverbial blind eye. We can surrender each day or we can fight for each day. We can go into the classroom as if it’s a laboring chore and merely mark our days as passing and regretful “ah, me’s.” We can get up out of bed each morning excitedly thankful for one more day given to us. We can choose to live this one more day, the only day we have, to the fullest, to decide to laugh and smile one more day, to choose to embrace and love one more day, to make a difference one more day. The extent to which we become emotionally wounded and weakened or healed and strengthened often determines how we live not only that day, but the rest of our lives and careers.

Somewhere I read these words: “Yesterday is a dream. Tomorrow is a vision. But today, well lived, makes every yesterday a dream of happiness and every tomorrow a vision of hope.” I would add that there are no impossibilities in a dream. Am I a dreamer? You bet!

This message has gotten my wheels spinning. But, enough for now. More later.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–