A CONVERSATION ABOUT A GRADE CHANGE

      He had called my home: several times. I checked the class final grade roll. He had flunked the course. He had e-mailed me: several times. I went to his transcript. He had been placed on second academic suspension. I understood his constant attempt to contact me. He desperately needed more than just a passing grade. But, he hadn’t done much, if any, work in class. Though I am not on campus during the summer months, I finally returned his call. We talked. From conversations we had last semester, I could have written the script of this conversation. Unfortunately, I was right.

      I told him that he had known what he had to do. All the course requirements were detailed in the syllabus. I reminded him that everyone had received an “A” that first day of class and had been told exactly what they had to do to keep it. I asked him if he remembered both the many times he and others in the class heard me reiterate those responsibilities and our eyeball-to-eyeball talks. Parts of our conversation went something like this:

I finally asked him the seminal question, “If you knew what it would take not to get suspended for a second time, why didn’t you do it?”

      Out poured the excuses, explanations, and rationales: he had to work a lot of weird hours; his boss didn’t understand; his roommates wouldn’t pay for a computer hookup; it was inconvenient to work on projects; his community members weren’t understanding and cooperative; “you taught in a way I wasn’t used to;” his parents financially cut him off when he was first suspended; he had to focus on another subject to make up work; his residence was flooded out; his computer was ‘messed up;’ his roommates never studied; he couldn’t say “no” when his friends wanted to party; and on and on and on it went.

      I parried the thrust of each excuse. We talked some more. Finally, I quietly, patiently, but firmly, explained, “You’re a ‘blame addict.’ You’re using everyone and everything in the book as an excuse for failure. Pull that blame stuff for not doing your job on the job and you’re out of a job. Nothing is going to change until you kick that habit. Until you start taking responsibility for your own choices, you’ll ask everyone else to change; but, you won’t see the need to change your ways…If I changed your grade just to help stay in college, I’d be feeding your habit. So, what good would I be to you?”

      “….and I thought you were such a great teacher,” he ended a plea with an attempt to massage my ego.

      Thinking of Monica, I replied. “What you need is not a great teacher–or even a poor one–who does something to you.”

 

      “And what do I need?” he asked with an obviously mixed tone of curiosity, defiance, innocence, unawareness, and sarcasm.

      “….You need you! You need to believe what you’re capable of doing, trust yourself that you can, have pride in yourself and everything you have to do, be unconditionally dedicated to going after nothing less than excellence, have faith in yourself, be invested in what’s going on and what you’re after, be committed to that investment with unexcused persistence, be focused and to do what you know you ought to do to get things done, and then just do it.”

      After I listed all of his errant ways in class, he said, “I guess I made some mistakes. Life sure slapped me in the face.”

     “There’s that blame again. First it was community members, roommates, bosses, me, floods, computers, friends, and parents. And now, it’s life. Where are you in all of this? Face it and face up to it! You were slapping yourself in your own face, and that was your choice. You chose to let these supposed slaps stop you dead in your tracks. You won’t understand this now, but you may later on: a mistake is just a disguised chance to learn, grow, and change. Sometimes it takes a hard lesson to see that. Trust me, I know. I’ve been there when I was your age…You always have a chance to make new choices. Here’s your chance to look at yourself in the mirror and ask some hard questions of yourself. But, remember it’s not just the questions you ask. Those are words. And, it’s not even the answers you come up with, however honest and uncomfortable they may be. Those, too, are only words. To break that habit of blaming, you’ve got to live the words. You’ve got to make the answers become a value system that guides everything you feel, think, and do every day. But, it’s got to be sincere rather than a mere gimmick. Otherwise, it will be so easy to fall off the wagon at the slightest bump in the road….”

     “….Well, what’s the trick to doing that?”

     “Getting help. I’m willing to help you help yourself. That’s what my teaching is all about. But, again, you’ve got to be willing. Understand that doing it isn’t a card trick; you don’t pull anything out of a hat; it isn’t a wand you merely wave; it isn’t an ‘on’ switch you just throw. ‘Easy’ is not part of the rules of the game. It’s an attitude you slowly acquire by slogging through your ‘stuff.’ It’s finding the strength to live the ‘Words For The Day’ I once wrote on the whiteboard: ‘If you want to do it, it can be done; and, if it can be done, do whatever it takes for however long it takes to do it.’ Call it a self-respect that won’t let you do to yourself what you’ve been doing. There is no quick and easy way to do that….Like coming off any habit, you just have to go through the agonizing pains of withdrawal. But, and it’s a big ‘but,’ you’ve got to want to become ‘clean’….”

     “….You said that you didn’t believe in grades. So, changing my grade shouldn’t mean all that much to you.”

     “….I don’t believe in the value of grades. However, I do believe in values. But, you didn’t make the grade when it came to such values of self-respect, responsibility, dedication, commitment, team work, integrity, honesty, and the pursuit of excellence that you need to apply if you want to achieve anything. It’s easy to do something that’s easy, something that you like to do, and something you want to do; the real test of your mettle is doing something when you don’t want to do it or like doing it, but do it anyway and give it all you’ve got. That’s why ‘hard’ is one of the rules and ‘easy’ is not. You once told me you like to work out. Well, so do I. But, staying in shape is called a ‘work out.'” Why? Because neither you nor I can just say, ‘Poof, we’re in shape.’ We’ve got to work at working out and be dedicated to a regimen of working at working out. It takes time, energy, effort, sweat, inconvenience, discomfort, and an ache or two. It’s no different with anything else in life: sports, job, relationships, academics, everything. There….is….no….gain….without….pain!”

     “…..Well, I’ve learned my lesson. Really. If you let me into your class again, I’ll bust my ass.”

     “How are you going to get into my class again?”

     “You have to change my grade….”

     “….I haven’t heard one ‘amen’ coming from you. Every one of your ‘I know’ has a tone of ‘stop lecturing me and just do as I ask.’ I won’t. I’ll say it one last time. Just because you’re hooked on blame doesn’t mean you have to stay hooked. You can change direction any time and any way you choose to. You should have figured out by now that your choices have consequences. If and when you want to find and find a way to change your choices, the consequences will be different.”

     “I heard you, but it’ll be easier for me if you do me a favor of changing my grade. What you’re asking is hard.”

 

     “But, not impossible! ….I’m not here to make it ‘easier’ or to do ‘a favor.’ You won’t have a chance of breaking your blame habit and becoming a responsible believer if I was to change your grade. No, I won’t change your grade. I can’t. ‘I’ won’t let me.”

     I’m sure he didn’t or didn’t want to understand because for almost another hour we kept going over and over and over the same ground as he vainly tried to get me to give in. Finally, with a sigh and a shake of my head, I ended the conversation. I clicked off my cell phone, opened the backdoor, and strolled out into my garden for a life rejuvenating conversation with my flowers.

Louis 

 

A WISH

     I went out the other pre-dawn morning on a three mile meditative walk, once again walking between the drops. This time it was drops of sweat. I tell you that this South Georgia heat and humidity is even driving the gnats nuts. Anyway, I was still thinking about Monica. That’s her real name. I was thinking of her time of incessant struggling in class with little confidence and lower self-esteem and constantly fending off an unsupporting family. I was thinking of our innumerable conversations during the semester we were in class together, of our occasional contact over the years when she needed someone to just listen and believe in her. And now, she is graduating at the top of her class and has been given the high honor of being the School of Education flag bearer at graduation. I was thinking how she found within herself kind of self in whom she can trust and with whom she will be joyful to live. I was thinking how she discovered what she can achieve by using what she once denigratingly called her “ordinariness” by applying extraordinary persistence. To the kinesthetic rhythm of my feet, I was saying to myself over and over again, “Whatever it takes. However long it takes. Whatever it takes. However long it takes. Whatever…..”

     Answering her message, I wrote:

 

     “I wish I was a fairy godfather who could wave his wand give as a gift to each student–and faculty member–what you have acquired over these seven years: a sense of wonder about themselves and each other that would be so indestructible that it would last throughout a career and all their lives; that would offer them the power of purpose; that would untie the “nots” in their cannots and kick them in their “can;” that would tap and allow to gush forth their pool of beautiful imagination and creativity; that would let them joyful see beautiful possibilities; that would push them beyond the familiar, beyond the comfortable, into a higher level of ability, and bring within reach the supposed unattainable; and that would allow them to feel the unique joy of breaking through their supposed limitations again and again and again. Like the lion in the Wizard of Oz, you now have the proverbial strong and courageous heart of a lion. You are about to graduate and become a teacher. Become a fairy godmother to each student. Don’t let any student go alone or feel alone on her or his journey. Educate with a reverence for each student. Approach and treat each student with grace, dignity, gentleness, kindness. Do whatever it takes for however long it takes to help them acquire a sense of sacredness about themselves. Help other ‘loveable cowardly lions’ find their strength and heart.”

Louis

HANDS

      For whatever reason, this morning, as I meditatively walked between the rain drops, I took myself back to Shand’s Hospital at the University of Florida. It was November 1, 2007. I remember that date because it was my birthday. Susan and I were in the neuro-surgeon’s office. It was my final check-up after my cerebral hemorrahage six weeks earlier. By all odds I should not have been there. But, there I was. Now, I tightly held Susan’s hand wondering what the odds were that it would happen again. I caressed her hand as I asked the surgeon if I was a walking time bomb. I wanted the companionship of her gentle hand; I needed the soft touch of her compassionate hand. I focused more on her calming touch then the surgeon’s reassuring words.

      Maybe all these thoughts were set off by an e-mail from a non-traditional student who this summer, after seven years of struggling against the odds, is graduating highest in her class. Thinking of her, I thought who among us craves, truly wants, the loneness, aloneness, disconnection, and isolation during any important transition or crisis? Think of the comforting hands that held ours firmly throughout our lives as we started out on new adventures or faced frightening situations. Think of the inner thoughts and feelings that our embracing palms and fingers transport into being. The answer seems so obvious. And yet, especially in supposedly objective academia, and especially so when it comes to first year students, it is so often forgotten or ignored or discounted and dismissed. The holding of hands– the embrace of welcome, the clasp of support, and the grip of encouragement that awaken tender feelings of belonging and believing–comes in many forms. And, kindly, empathetic, loving, and faithful care-giving teaching might provide one clear, unmistakable, flesh-and-blood sense of it.

Louis