TIS THE SEASON–HOPEFULLY ALWAYS

     Well, Susan and I have just finished up packing clothes and Chanukah gifts and are flying off early tomorrow morning on a thirteen day mission of spoiling rotten our two west coast grandchildren.  This is a year I have a very special three cheers for cheering this cheerful holiday season.  There was a split second back on that early morning of September 14th that I thought I would never again see Susan, my sons, their wives, my grandchildren, and my dear friends.  The best gift my two sons could have given me was dropping everything and being at my bedside for the entire week I was in ICU and taking care of their distraught mother.  There was nothing greater than those gifts of just being there that were given by close friends who without question unhesitating rushed to the hospital in Valdosta, drove Susan down to the hospital in Gainesville, brought her car down to her, got her housing, looked after the house, made daily concerned “how are things going” calls, dropped in for a quick “we’re here if you need us” hello, and then looked after us when we got home.  What better gifts could my colleagues offer than picking up extra teaching loads to cover the classes, or could administrators give by smoothing the paper process for Susan of getting emergency medical leave time for me?  Could students find nicer gifts than cooking and shopping for Susan, offering to clean house, and just constantly checking up on us?  None.  Many of you do not know much I have appreciated your gifts of prayers, good wishes, and kind thoughts over these past three months of my recovery.   They went beyond expectation and requirement, beyond professional courtesy, beyond social grace, and tapped into that part of the human experience in a way that continually reminds me of our softer side, even to the point of swelling up my eyes with tears, deepening my breaths, and tightening my chest.  They all were gifts that sure beat anything that could have been bought in any store. 

     Talking of gifts, do you want to give one that lasts, that keeps on giving?  Give something that conjures up the good feelings, happy sounds, smiles, kindness, and warmth such as I have.   No more than tests and grades and lectures in a classroom, gift certificates and slippers and ties and toys and all that material stuff that is given and received are not the stuff of lasting memories. Long after I’ve forgotten the particular words of love, support, and encouragement, I will remember the feelings that warmed and still warm my insides.

     That is what this Thanksgiving to New Years season is all truly about; it’s a heralding of gratitude for everything and for seeing in everything something for which to be deeply grateful.  It’s about–if you see and listen closely to all of its songs and decorations and lights and window dressings and Santas and Rudolphs and gifts and feasts and prayers and television specials and Christmasy movies and concerts and the Nutcracker and Christmas Carol and White Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life and religious rituals and ceremonies–as Bing Crosby sang, counting your blessings instead of sheep for every minute of every day in everything.  I assure you, when you learn to be grateful, to live that gratitude each time you draw a breath, that “thank you” is a password to a lifting of onuses, a liberating life, a calmness to life, a meaning for life, an awakening to life, and a subtle happiness and a quiet joy.

     You know, I hear a lot of “bah humbugs” from a lot of toxic cynics and academic Scrooges.  The nicer ones commend me for my good intentions, but they all echo what one professor recently asked me: “Why are you wasting your time?  Do you really think your touchy-feely e-ramblings make any difference?  You’re so impractical.”  Then, I received a nourishing message like the one I got from Gary Schilmoeller who said, “I want to thank you, too, for being a great mentor for so many of us teachers.”  Or, I got an inspiring message from a student that said, “I’m thinking of you at this time of the year.  In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about you since you went down.  I miss you.  Please get better and come back.  We all need you.”

      I replied to Gary, “What a gift you have given me: to realize that my vision, dedication, commitment, faith, hope, belief, love, courage, compassion, and creativity can set into motion a ripple effect of actions and attitudes to make a better world.  Thank you.” 

     I wrote him those lines and share them with you not to congratulate myself for inadvertently helping Gary make a difference in his own life–and ultimately those of his students–but to thank him for making a difference in mine.  I think it was William Arthur Ward who said something to the effect that mediocre teachers tell, good teachers explain, superior teachers demonstrate, great teachers inspire.  I humbly aspire to inspire.  I do it often with stories that I hope help all of us to love, believe, hope, empathize, encourage, have courage, appreciate, and remind us of things we know but don’t think about all that often.       

     Gratitude is one of those things we don’t often dwell on.  It is usually not a spontaneous emotion; it doesn’t always come naturally; often it’s a matter of deliberate choice of word, thought, or deed. Sometimes too many feel a hesitating embarrassment about saying “thank you.”  But, it’s an outlook; it’s a way of life; it’s a rejoicing of everyone and every thing you encounter; it’s a realization that everyone and everything is a teacher; it relishes, sharpens, attunes; it counter-weighs indifference, unawareness, cynicism.  It’s an elixir that keeps you young, spry, and spicy in spirit.  It transforms a blasé “oh hum” or cynical “bah, humbug” or deadening “so what” into an enlivening, excited, and majestic “ah-ha.”

     Gratitude is a conscious and expressed appreciation that doesn’t necessarily make life easier, but it sure does make it better, more meaningful, and certainly more purposeful.  After all, a “thank you” turns what we have done into a need to do more.  And so, I should have told Gary, that student, and many of you out there as well that his gift is the kind of gift that keeps on giving by going deep within and constantly stirring things up while they settle things down.  It says and will continue to say, “Keep it up.  Stay the course.  You are not wasting your time.  You are making a difference.”  It says, “Remember, if you touch one person, you’ve changed the world and altered the future.”               . 

     Through the soft lens of good feelings, Gary’s words, as well as those of countless others, will continue to be heart warming and to conjure up good feelings of fulfillment and accomplishment.  In a world preoccupied with the giving and receiving of material gifts, it’s easy to overlook that the most lasting and most valuable gift anyone can give is the feelings she or he creates in others.  Never underestimate the impact you can have when you take the time to make someone feel noticed, valued, and valuable, especially by cheering them up. It’s is a powerful force.  Constant unconditional love can melt the hardest of rocks.  It certainly can  make people feel better.  If you want to make a difference in the lives of others, if you want to give the most meaningful gift, sincerely express gratitude whenever you can.  No act of appreciation is ever wasted.  You never get poorer by giving away sincere compliments; you only get richer.  The way we behave toward others is an expression of our values and character.  And, if you don’t express your gratitude, all you’ve done is to wrap a gift for a person and uselessly store it away on a closet shelf.        

     So, here is my gift of gratitude to so many of you:  a cheerful, and heartfelt “thank you” for making it all worthwhile.  I am alive; I am happier than I’ve ever been; and, I can share it all with all of you.     

     Susan and I want to wish you and all those you love a very happy and merry holiday season.  And, may 2008 be a year long “ho, ho, ho” jolly and sweet season of joy, delight, cheer, and good fortune. May you live in gratitude for each moment you have.  May each day be a “Tis the season” holiday, a “holy” and sacred time. And, may this coming year bring only lasting good and uplifting memories for yourself and those you care about. 

     Til next year.  Meanwhile…….

Louis

PERSPECTIVE

If you want to define scholarship, do it from a professor’s perspective.

If you want to define education, do it from a student’s perrspective.

If you want to define a learning community, do it beyond an academic perspective.

Don’t confuse the three.

Louis

CANCER, CEREBRAL HEMORRAHAGE, AND TEACHING

            It was a balmy, foggy, South Georgia wintery 54 degrees this morning. I’ve always said that walking the silence of the dark, pre-dawn streets is good.  As the dawn painted the stark shapes in the dark with living colors, I could hear all of its exhortations to look forward to this new day more clearly than I have ever before.  Nearly dying from a cerebral hemorrahage will have that effect.  Moving along the streets of Valdosta on my three mile fast stroll–I’m not yet up to power walking–I was acutely possessed by the feeling that I had to get ready to live this newly arriving day.  I walk not only to keep in physical shape, which may have saved my life when I had the cerebral hemorrahage, but I believe that the day that starts healthy and emotionally well has the healthiest chance for me to look well to this day and of having this day go well.  If I can live this day well, well then, I’ve shaped today into a vision of fresh faith and hope.  So, for me, the reason why the sunrise is so beautiful and magnificent is that it sets the stage for a positive, joyful, fulfilling, blissful, valuable day.   . 

            This morning, however, I was looking at dark and light things a bit differently.  I was thinking of two similar but contrasting messages I had received during this past week.  One was a puzzled “why did you survive such a tragedy” from a friend at a mid-western university who then went on to answer her own question with a “you must have more to do.”  I wrote back, “My hemorrahage would have been a tragedy if I died at what for me is an untimely time.  It would have been a greater tragedy if I didn’t open my eyes wider to the richness and possibilities of the  world about me rather than shut my lids tighter in self-pity.  But, the truth is that it was a lot harder on Susan being in the ER and at my ICU bedside than it was for me lying in on ambulance stretcher or in that ICU bed.”  The other message had an undertone of “why me” from a professor who was bemoaning that ” Why do I have to have so many students whose performance disappoints me?”  And, she, too, went on to answer her own question with a “they aren’t prepared to be here.”  I told her, “I don’t know of your situation, but having had such attitudes for the first twenty-five years of my career I’m not devoid of an understanding of the problems you and others face and how easy it is to emotionally cash it in.” 

            In the morning’s darkness, the words of both these professors seemed to lead me toward to see that when I talk of the dark pre-dawn, I’m only referring to the sky and ignoring the host street lamps that line my route .  At this time of the day’s first light, then, the streets aren’t ever really all that dark.  They’re dark only when they’re dark.  Sound silly?  Well, unless the moon is not out, or it and the stars are blocked out by clouds, or there is no street lamp, there’s always some light in the night’s dark.  In fact, even in the darkest of dark moonless nights and absent street lamps, as night vision goggles reveal, there is always some sort of light.   The streets, life in general, and the classroom specifically are dark only when you don’t notice any of the light around you.  But, everything on the streets and in life, as well as in the classroom is a mixture of dark and light.  In fact, the more my pupils opened as I got accustomed to the dark along my walk, the more faint light came in and the less dark it was.  The second flash of light for me, then, is that the more I notice the light, the more I invite the light in, the more I show the door to the dark, the more I light up my mood, and the more I can see what truly is.  So, I saw this morning that if I want less dark in where I am and what I do, I should look for some light.   No, I’ll take that back.  If I want less dark, I have to make my own light.  And, when I make my own light, I see the light in myself and in others. 

            I guess I was thinking about all this because these two messages made me realize that everyone who hears what just happened to me volunteers answers to that unspoken hard and unanswerable question:  “why were you a 5%-er who survived your massive cerebral hemorrahage unscathed?” They offer what is to them emotionally satisfying answers, answers that make sense of things to them: “there is more in store for you” or “it wasn’t yet your time” or “you’ve got more to do” or “someone is looking over you” or “praise God” or “knock on wood,” or “you’re a lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky man.”   So many academics do the same thing when students don’t rise up to their expectations.  They offer emotionally satisfying “it’s them,” finger pointing “in my humble opinion” or “it’s my belief” answers, answers that make sense to and exonerate them from any responsibility to “why aren’t they doing what I want them to do?”  For answers they offer:  “they’re not capable” or “they’re letting anyone it” or “they don’t really belong” or “they want something for nothing” or “they’re not dedicated” or “they don’t know how” or “when I was a student….”  None of these are really satisfactory answers for me because they’re framed in such dark and light terms.  But, there are answers.  People’s character is strengthened if they meet the things in life honestly and courageously, whether among those “things” is cancer, cerebral hemorrahage, and/or recalcitrant students..

            You know, when I had the cancer or when I had the cerebral hemorrahage, after I got back my memory, I don’t remember ever asking that bemoaning or angry “Why me?”  In fact, I haven’t raised that sighful question about the classroom–or lived it–in the over fifteen years since my epiphany.  I have found that the forlorn “Why me,” in whatever context, is a thief that saps, robs, paralyzes, atrophys, and defeats.  People ask it as if they are surprised or scared that life does not accommodate them as they would want or that the students don’t please them as they demand or that the world in all of its aspects is fraught with imperfection.  For me, then, “answer” doesn’t mean reason or explanation.  For me, “answer” means I am the answer.    That is, “what am I going to do now that it has happened?”  I could not control having cancer or a cerebral hemorrahage or that student in class.  But, I do have the power to decide how I am going to respond; how am I going to use the fact that I had cancer three years ago and nearly died from a cerebral hemorrahage three months ago–or, have disappointing students in class–to strengthen my personal and professional life and the lives of those around me?  My answer is that it’s not enough to have survived; I’ve got to live; I’ve got to fill my life with all the feelings and thoughts and words and actions of the most magnificent possibilities of life.  My perception of life, personal and professional, outside and inside the home and classroom, is to open my eyes wider rather than to shut them tighter, to create light in the dark, to have an energizing “wow,” to drive away the resigned and debilitating “darn,” to do more than merely getting through this day, to put myself on a enthusiastic high far above any dismal low, to see the light of how much I have to gain by focusing on the goodness and beauty that surrounds me while accepting the thorns.  It’s about being in control over that which I can control and influence:  me.    It’s all about learning the rules so that I can break them properly.  It’s about being totally and completely unique all the time everywhere.  It’s about being my own person, not someone who someone else wants me to be.  It’s about being the individual I am rather than just another cog in “the system.”  It’s about being an original, not a copy.  It’s about originating rather than duplicating.  It’s about not being afraid to feel and to think.  It’s about staring down all those demons who would have me say that I am less than I am or can become.  It’s about not letting my dreams and visions and aspirations and hopes slip through my fingers and disappear because I think “I couldn’t do that” or “what would ‘they’ think.”   It’s about trusting over and over again that still, small voice that says, “This might work and I’ll try it.”  It’s about not accepting disappointment as normal.  It’s about having a deep, meaningful, and sincere trust in myself.  It’s about stepping out of fear and hesitation into self-esteem, self-confidence, and courage.  It’s about a smile, a welcoming “hello,” a kindness, a consideration, a laugh.  It’s about truly giving it everything I have.  It’s about doing rather than merely trying.  It’s about the belief and understanding that I can make a difference.

            Well, this is getting too long.  Though I have thought a lot more about this, it’s enough for now.  Since Susan and I are heading out to the West Coast soon for some grand-daughter spoiling, if I don’t another chance, let me and Susan wish each of you a merry burning of the yule log, a belated happy lighting of the candles, and a glorious turn of the calendar.

Louis