MEASURE THAT

Well, the semester is over; those uneducational final grades that have little if anything to do with learning are in; my angelic Susan thankfully is recovering slowly but nicely from her successful spinal operation; we’ve got relatives coming in from out-of-town to be with Susan next week; we have my sons on call in the wings thereafter if they’re needed; and, reluctantly–very reluctantly–Friday night I’m off to China for a tad over three weeks to teach in the remainder of the Study Abroad program.

A few days ago, as if I was a guest on “Actor’s Studio,’  a student asked me how would I like my life to be measured as I stood before the pearly gates.  Her question took me back to an incident that occurred the previous Sunday.  Well, it didn’t really take me back since it never has left me.  Anyway, that Sunday was the first day of my congregation’s fund-raising corn-beef sandwich sale that has become a tradition in Valdosta.  I was running around like a proverbial chicken without its head.  I was especially working hard since I couldn’t help significantly with all the preparations leading up to the sale because I was tending to Susan; and, on Monday, when the rush really would hit and we’d push over 3,000 sandwich luncheons out the door, Susan would be in surgery.  As I was filling orders from the endless line of cars coming through our makeshift pass-through, a friend came up to me and grabbed my arm, telling me that someone inside the synagogue wanted to see me.  I replied that I didn’t have the time and to tell him I’m busy.

“Make the time,” Carl answered firmly.  “He said he came to eat his sandwich in the synagogue especially to see if he could talk with you.”

Reluctantly, I got off the line for what I thought was going to be a mere hello and handshake.   Carl brought a gray haired man up to me.  He tightly grabbed my hand, looked intensely into my eyes, and with a shaky voice introduced himself and said, “Dr. Schmier, I know you don’t remember me, but I had you for class the first quarter you were here at the college ….”

“August, 1967?  I don’t want to know about that.  Hey, I’m too young to have had you in class way back then,” I interrupted with a laugh, making a joke about my longevity at the University.

But, I did not expect what he was about to say.  It certainly was neither “mere” nor “joke.”  Not hearing me, keeping my hand firmly in his grasp and his eyes focused on me, he went on, “I know you’re busy, but for a long time I’ve wanted you to know that you changed my life in that class.  You kept on me and forced me to see abilities and potentials in me that you saw and I didn’t.  You never let me settle for ‘getting by’ because you saw how ‘amazing’ I could be.  Because of you, I am the person and businessman I am.  You taught me what I needed to be a successful businessman and live a good life.”

After all these decades!  Twenty-five years before my epiphany! In the years that I later judged myself to be an aloof, demanding s.o.b of a pontificating, judgmental professor intent on making a scholarly name for himself.  You want to talk about being stunned?  I felt like all the air had been sucked out from my lungs.  I froze.  Stopped breathing.  Went limp.  It was suddenly hot.  No, there was nothing “mere” or “joking”  in the sincerity of his words.   He said more, but I don’t really remember.  Now, it was my turn for glassy eyes and shaky voice.   All I could muster was a soft, humble, stuttering, “Thank you, that means a great deal to me, more than you can know.” I promised to have lunch with him immediately after I returned from China in June.  With a deep breath, a very deep breath, I wiped my eyes and I went back on the line.

So, my answer to this student was quick and simple:  “I want to be measured by a man named Jim Hathaway.  I’ve concluded that by any measure, I will not be assessed by dollars or reputation, by degrees, titles, or publications, but by the individual people whose lives I’ve touched knowingly or otherwise.  I think that’s the way it works, and anyone who thinks otherwise is in for a big surprise.  For a long time, a few months short of the last twenty years in fact, I have not been concerned with the level of individual prominence I may have achieved, about my degrees, title, resume, bank account, cars, clothes, houses, or any material stuff like that; I’ve not been concerned with the length of my resume; I’ve not been concerned with awards and recognitions.  I’ve learned that it’s all about what some call ‘connection;’ I call it ‘compassionate listening’ with my ears and eyes.  I’ve learned that it’s crucial to listen with the willingness to serve and help others, not to judge or to argue or sometimes even to answer and to react.  I’ve learned to just to listen intensely with all my attention, and deeply care with all my heart, and profoundly understand with all my soul.  So, I want to be measured by individuals I’ve seen, listened to, understood, cared about, loved, had faith in, had hope for, and have helped become better people; I want to be measured by those people who I have helped graduate not just as good students, but as good persons as well.  I admit that is a very challenging commitment to keep every day, to compassionately listen to each and every student rather than conditionally and selectively as I did in the days Jim Hathaway was a student.  Every day that commitment is tested, and I don’t always pass it.  Every day I think, as I think we all should, about the measure by which my life will be judged, learn from my inevitable mistakes, and live better every day so I can measure up to that measure.  In the end, my life will be judged by the extent to which I have been significant in someone’s life, not by having been prominent and important in my life.  You see, I have concluded that to have lived a rich life is not to have lived a Metamucil life because it has nothing to do with being regular.  It’s about being extraordinary; it’s about getting the most from each moment of each day; it’s about transforming ‘good enough,’ ‘getting by,’ or even ‘not good enough,’ into ‘amazing;’ it’s about making a difference in someone’s life; it’s about doing significant things.  That’s the real substance of life.  Like I have said many times, I would merely like it to be said at my eulogy and written on my tombstone, ‘He touched one student and changed the world.’  That’s how I want my life to be measured.”

Louis

This entry was posted in Random Thoughts by Louis Schmier. Bookmark the permalink.

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..

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *