Well, Michael called me another question that led to still another question. He asked, “Shouldn’t the teacher be the boss in the classroom?”

I answered, “She or he should be a leader.”

“What’s the difference?” he replied.

“All the world,” I said.

I explained that many academics talk about classroom leadership and practice classroom a bossism. I was just reading something Russell Ewing wrote in which he differentiated between a boss and a leader. He said, ‘A boss creates fear, a leader confidence. A boss fixes blame, a leader corrects mistakes. A boss knows all, a leader asks questions. A boss makes work drudgery, a leader makes it interesting. A boss is interested in himself or herself, a leader is interested in the group’ What Ewing is saying is that the leader coaches while the boss drives, that true leaders are those who lead by example rather than by intimidation. The primary task of a leader is to keep hope alive, not instill fear Great leaders identify fears, erase them with love, and therefore inspire. The whole point of leadership, then, is having power with people, of giving power to people–not lording power over them. Leadership is not about authority and power. I don’t think authority and power are leadership. When you lead people you are actually helping people accomplish more; you’re helping people, in the words of the Marines, be all that they can be.

This is something a lot of us academics should remember in the classroom.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

      Michael had to write a short first year English paper on a career he had chosen. He wanted to become a teacher. He asked me if I would be interviewed. I agreed to be cornered on a bench.

      “How would you briefly describe a good teacher,” he asked.

      “Briefly?” I thought to myself as I went into a thinking mode, put my left index finger to my puckered lips, and looked toward the sky. “I’ve written over 650 essays over the past eleven years or more on the subject over the past and he wants ‘briefly.'” But, briefly is sometimes very good to get you to think, and he needed a brief, to-the-point answer. I thought about it for a minute or two.

      Looking at him, I slowly said, “A good teacher is like a good leader. A good leader gets into the world of those she or he leads. So, too, a good classroom leader, a teacher, gets into the world of her or his students.” Then, we went on to talk a lot more.

 Louis

        It was Friday afternoon.  It was the end of my first week in nearly four months since I had been on campus and in the classroom.  I was in the office.  I was getting ready to head over to the General Faculty meeting.  My cell phone rang.  It was Sally.  She is a first year student.  I had met her less than a few times in class.  She was sobbing.  She could barely talk between her heaving snivels.

         I sat back down in my chair.  “What’s wrong?” I urgently asked. 

        “I can’t stop crying.” 

        This being the day after the first Thursday party night of the semester, I thought the worse. I said again, but slower and quieter, “What’s wrong.” 

        “It’s the story you told of Kim and your painted pinky.  It really hit home.  It’s gotten to me and I can’t stop thinking about it…..My half brother was shot and killed six years ago today.  He inspired me to change and go on just like you did with Kim…..Then, I thought of how we went around in class on those treasure hunts, introducing ourselves and telling each other why we each are a treasure….I lied to them.  I don’t feel like any treasure.  I feel like a shit–ugly and cursed.  I fucked up fucking around and didn’t do that great last semester.  I’m afraid I’m going to do the same this semester and have to leave…..I don’t belong here….Why am I here and my brother is not anyway?  Can you tell me?  I need you to tell me.”

          I didn’t answer.  I let her talk.  It was like she was having the emotional vomit she needed to have to get out all that acid on her soul that was giving her spiritual indigestion. She talked of being sickly as a child and teenager, of being in and out of hospitals, of getting in with a bad crowd, of drive-by shootings, and never telling her mother of being constantly molested by family members.  “I don’t know why I’m telling you, a stranger and all, all this personal stuff about me.  I never talk about it and tell anyone, but I can’t seem to help it…..It was like someone else was dialing the phone…It was my brother who saw me as a special treasure.  He inspired me to change and go on just like you did with Kim.  Because of him I graduated high school and came to college.  Why isn’t he here?  He should be here, not me.  I don’t deserve to be here.  Why wasn’t he a miracle.  Why didn’t he survive the bullet like you did with cancer and your brain hemorrahage?  Please tell me why!”

            All I could answer was, “I can’t tell you why…Do me a big favor.  Read Ecclesiastes 3:11.  I think it says something like ‘He has made everything beautiful in its time’   Your brother is beautiful.  You’re beautiful.  You’ve got to see that to see in yourself what he saw.  You’ll see it in your time if you look.” 

        “Me beautiful? A treasure?”

         “Your brother thought so.  Your mother thinks so.  Didn’t you just tell me that you were special to him and to her?  Didn’t you just tell me that your mother had you after five miscarriages, after the doctors told her she couldn’t have any children, and that two months after she gave birth to you she went into menopause?”

         “She always calls me her ‘miracle child.'”

          “You are.  You’re here.  Your brother is still here whispering “you can do it” in your ear.  As you see your brother as a treasure, you’ll see how he saw you and how you should see yourself.  Be thankful for your brother, that he was there for you when you needed him.  Make your life a monument to him.  Be that special sister he knew you were and be that miracle child your mother knows you are.  You’ll free yourself to accomplish so very much.”

         “She and my brother always said that I was put on this earth for a special reason. It’s not easy to find that reason.”

         “The important things never are.  Keep listening to them every day.  Keep reading Ecclesiastes 3:11 as a reminder every day. Everything around you will be as you see it.  Everyone around you will see you and you see yourself.  If you, me, she take the time, no matter how crazy or troubled we feel, to have faith in ourselves and hope for ourselves and love ourselves, we’ll find something to be thankful for, something beautiful, something special..  And, then, you’ll find that reason…..”

          After about 45 minutes or so, she said, “I gotta stop talking about this ’cause (sic) I’m crying my guts out.  Thanks for caring and being like my brother and mother.”

         “You couldn’t have given me a greater compliment.  Have great weekend.  See you next week.”

        I never got to the faculty meeting.  It was raining when I stepped outside Ashley Hall.  I knew why I missed so much being on campus.  As I slowly strolled home for that glass of wine and piece of cheese with my Susan, thinking of Sally, I understood that one of the most calming and powerful actions a teacher can do in this stormy world is to stand up, show her or his soul, and light up the place. As a teacher, my life belongs to something greater than myself and as long as I breathe it is my privilege, my honor, to do for each person whatever I can do, to do whatever it takes to help others help themselves become the persons they each are capable of becoming.  In that way, and that is the only way, I can help myself become whatever I am capable of becoming.   I have found that the harder I work at serving others, the more I live. The more I live, the brighter my flame burns and the more I rejoice in life for its own sake. Unlike Macbeth, a life, and the teaching that is a part of it, is no ‘brief candle’ to me; it is not a walking shadow for me; it is not a poor fretting and strutting player for me; it is not a tale told by an idiot.  No, for me, life signifies everything.  It is sort of a splendid, blazing torch on which I have a tight hold, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible, to light other candles.   

        Struggling souls such as Sally want and will catch light from other souls who are lit and willing to cast light on the beauty around them.  And, if I can help Sally and others like her feel that she or he can accomplish any goal or task she or he decides upon, she and others will.  Then, I will have succeeded as a teacher; I will have given her or him the greatest gift I can bestow as a teacher; and, I will have offered her or him the true blessing of an education.  Shaw was right.  The truest joy in life is having a mighty purpose, of being a force of nature in the service of others.  That’s the truest joy in teaching as well.  Damn, it’s good to be back on campus.

Louis

     Yesterday was the first day of class and the first day I’ve been in class since that fateful day of my cerebral hemorrahage way back on September 14th. At the end of the first class, a student came up to me after class. “I want to be a teacher,” he said. “But, I came to college to get a good paying job. If I can get kind of personal and ask, what do you make?”

     “A difference,” I replied without thinking. “What do you want to make?”

 Louis