TEACHING BACKWARDS, TEACHING FORWARDS

      I received a long message from a past student whom I admittedly vaguely remember at best. The subject heading said it all and that’s all I’m going to say about the message. It read: “Thanks for the impact you made on my life.” I have to admit that as I read the message I was stunned and gladdened. It was, and still is, an odd feeling. I feel a fulfillment. Tim Russert died yesterday. I have to admit I was stunned and saddened. It was, and still is, an odd feeling. I feel a void. For years I have said to myself, “If it’s Sunday, “Sunday Morning” and “Meet The Press.” Sunday morning was a time for bagels, lox, cream cheese, humanity, and straight talk. Now, it will be harder to tell time. Fulfilled feeling, odd feeling, but they’re not shallow feelings.

      And, they both got me to thinking. So many of us are masters of the art of our discipline, but have we mastered, really mastered the art of happiness? We are the experts in this or that, but are we experts at life? So many say they are dedicated to their discipline, but are they dedicated to living with purpose and meaning? So many of us have received those professional and academic recognitions, but would we be recipients for an award for getting a fullness out of life? Are we the quintessential happy and purposeful teacher? Do we believe we are having fun at what we surely figure is the best job in the world? Are we the epitome of ebullient contentment, satisfaction, and fulfillment with what we do? Have we made a career of our passion? Are we in love with both our professional and personal life, truly in love with it, enjoying it, and living it with a contagious spirit? Are we loving what we do and doing what we love and loving each student with an unstoppable zest and zeal? Do we enter the classroom each day with a disbelief that we’re really getting paid for doing it? Are we leavened with exuberance for each student? Do we turn what is an all too often sleepy classroom encounter into an adventurous and meaningful encounter? Are we an integral and intimate part of a student’s growing up? Do we stand above our job?

       But, as I learned that fateful early morning on this past September 14th, when I got hit, without any early warning signs, with a massive cerebral hemorrhage, nothing is unstoppable. I have the dream job; I have the fantasy marriage; I have delight with my children and grandchildren; I always have a smile on my face that comes from living with a dynamic immediacy, and having an eagerness to help each student help her/himself become a better informed, better skilled, better talented, and just a plain better person.

      If you want to know how to live your life of teaching, think about what you’d like people to say about you at your retirement party or your funeral—and then “teach backwards” so you can teach forward with that purpose.

      I began thinking about that when I had my epiphany in the fall of 1991, more so when I faced cancer in 2004, and now when I came so close—oh, so close—to dying last fall with a massive cerebral hemorrahage. I remember thinking, as I was almost certain that I was stroking out and would be dead before I hit the floor, “This can’t be happening. It’s too soon. I’ve got too much yet to do. I’m having too good a time loving life and helping others.” During the months of convalescence that followed, I often read the lines of Linda Ellis’ “The Dash” that poetically talked of the true worth of how we spent that seemingly innocuous line between the dates of birth and death carved on everyone’s tombstone. And, I often wondered if I would be seen as I wish to live: an icon of trust, joy, fulfillment, purpose, satisfaction, gusto, empathy, kindness, fun-loving, compassion, belief, faith, and love; as having successfully lived up to my credo of “with malice towards none, with charity for all;” as having been the embodiment of my vision to be that person who is there to help each student help her/himself become the person she or he is capable of becoming. I often thought if my departure would have seemed to others to be too early, an affront, an outrage, an act of cruelty, unfair, premature, unimaginable, absurd, almost obscene, and just not right? Thankfully, no one had the opportunity to speak over me.

      Thinking about what I would want to speak over me, how I would wish to live my dash, helps me to write my credo, paint my vision, sculpt my meaning, forge my purpose, and map them towards my true north. When the end is near, it’s not likely any of us will say, “I wish I’d written one more book” or “why didn’t I get that grant” or “if I only could have gotten that appointment.” Remember, there is no tenure to life. Unfortunately, many of us only begin to realize the value of the time we have after we’ve frittered much of it away in shallow ruts going nowhere important. Knowing how we want to be remembered allows us to forge our personal vision, to write our personal mission statement for being on this planets, and for making a strategic plan for our life. How much wiser would our choices be if we had the wisdom and discipline to regularly ask ourselves whether all the things we do and say are taking us where we want to be at the end?

      Thinking about the plaudits pouring in for Tim Russert, thinking about that encomium from Trish (her real name), I know I write our own story, tell my own tale, and, thus, prepare my own eulogy by the choices I make every day of who I want to be, how I want to feel, and what I want to do.

Louis

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About Louis Schmier

LOUIS SCHMIER “Every student should have a person who wants to help him or her help himself or herself become the person he or she is capable of becoming, and I’ll be damned if I am ever going to let one human being fall through the cracks in my classes without a fight.” How about a snapshot of myself. But, what shall I tell you about me? Something personal? Something philosophical? Something pedagogical? Something scholarly? Nah, I'll dispense with that resume stuff. Since I believe everything we do starts from who we are inside, what we believe, what we perceive, and what we do is an extension of ourselves, how about if I first say some things about myself. Then, maybe, I can ease into other things. My name is Louis Schmier. The first name rhymes with phooey, the last with beer. I am a 76 year old - in body, but not in mind or spirit - born and bred New Yorker who came south in 1963. I met by angelic bride, Susie, on a reluctant blind date at Chapel Hill. We've been married now going on 51 years. We have two marvelous sons. One is a VP at Samsung in San Francisco. The other is an artist with food and is an executive chef at a restaurant in Nashville, Tn. And, they have given us three grandmunchkins upon whom we dote a bit. I power walk 7 miles every other early morning. That’s my essential meditative “Just to …” time. On the other days, I exercise with weights to keep my upper body in shape. I am an avid gardener. I love to cook on my wok. Loving to work with my hands as well as with my heart and mind, I built a three room master complex addition to the house. And, I am a “fixer-upper” who allows very few repairmen to step across the threshold. Oh, by the way, I received my A.B. from then Adelphi College, my M.A. from St. John's University, and my Ph.D. from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I have been teaching at Valdosta State University in Georgia since 1967. Having retired reluctantly in December, 2012, I currently hold the rank of Professor of History, Emeritus. I prefer the title, “Teacher”. Twenty-five years ago, I had what I consider an “epiphany”. It changed my understanding of myself. I stopped professoring and gave up scholarly research and publication to devote all my time and energy to student. My teaching has taken on the character of a mission. It is a journey that has taken me from seeing only myself to a commitment to vision larger than myself and my self-interest. I now believe that being an educator means I am in the “people business”. I now believe that the most essential element in education is caring about people. Education without caring, without a real human connection, is as viable as a person with a brain but without a heart. So, when I am asked what I teach, I answer unhesitatingly, “I teach students”. I am now more concerned with the students’ learning than my teaching, more concerned with the students as human beings than with the subject. I am more concerned with reaching for students than reaching the height of professional reputation. I believe the heart of education is to educate the heart. The purpose of teaching is to instill in all students genuine, loving, lifelong eagerness to learn and foster a life of continual growth and development. It should encourage and assist students in developing the basic values needed for learning and living: self-discipline, self-confidence, self-worth, integrity, honesty, commitment, perseverance, responsibility, pursuit of excellence, emotional courage, creativity, imagination, humility, and compassion for others. In April, 1993, I began to share ME on the internet: my personal and professional rites of passage, my beliefs about the nature and purpose of an education, a commemoration of student learning and achievement, my successful and not so successful experiences, a proclamation of faith in students, and a celebration of teaching. These electronic sharings are called “Random Thoughts”. There are now over 1000 of them floating out there in cyberspace. The first 185, which chronicles the beginnings of my journey, have been published as collections in three volumes, RANDOM THOUGHTS: THE HUMANITY OF TEACHING, RANDOM THOUGHTS, II: TEACHING FROM THE HEART, RANDOM THOUGHTS, III: TEACHING WITH LOVE, and RANDOM THOUGHTS, IV: THE PASSION OF TEACHING. The chronicle of my continued journey is available in an Ebook on Amazon's Kindle in a volume I call FAITH, HOPE, LOVE: THE SPIRIT OF TEACHING. There a few more untitled volumes in the works..

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