Labor Day weekend is upon us.  Susie and I are about to hop a plane for some family–and professional–time in D.C.  But, you know, generally Labor Day has lost its meaning.  People no longer take it seriously.  They’ve forgotten it origins.  The parades of my youth celebrating workers rights, protections, contributions have mostly disappeared.  They been replaced by an attitude that it’s little more than a paid day off, a Monday federal holiday, a relaxing and vegging out three day family weekend, the last barbecued hamburgers on the patio grill, the last outdoor concerts, the official launchings of political campaigns, back-to-school savings, the last day of summer, the last day to wear white.   But is it an anachronism?  Maybe.  It can be time to think about your “labors.”  And, in my case it is a the segue into some thoughts I have this morning as a result of a brief conversation I had with a colleague a couple of days ago.  I told you, maybe warned you, that as my reluctant retirement in three months approaches, I’ll probably be reflecting more.

Anyway, this colleague stopped me as I was on my way to class, my boombox blasting out Neil Diamond, and asked me, “Louis, what do you do to students to get them to do what you expect of them?”

I stopped.  Turned towards him.  Lower the volume.  “Nothing!,” I replied.  He looked at me with a question-pocked face.  I went on.  “I don’t do anything ‘to’ them.  I do ‘with’ them.  If I do ‘to’ anyone, it is ‘to’ the only person I can do anything ‘to’:  me.  I’ve found that the psychologists, Carl Rogers and Ed Deci, were right.  I don’t do a thing to students as if they are trained performing seals.  I don’t control them because I’ve learned I can’t.  Threats and rewards don’t usually work.  I don’t even teach them because I can’t.  To think that we can control students sets us up for frustration, resignation, and even anger.  What I can do and strive to do, however, are six active and involved things: first, I live my ‘Teacher’s Oath’ to the word; second, I am their for them. I serve them.  I am their servant-teacher.  My ego is not in it.  I am their partner, their fellow-traveler; third, I have unconditional faith in each of them, valuing of each of them, being in-your-face persistent, refusing to give up on anyone, refusing to surrender when they want to give up on themselves; fourth, I create a safe, supportive, and encouraging, but demanding and challenging “it’s hard” environment.  I serve more their needs, not just their wants;  and, finally, I offer them constant opportunities to see how capable and special each of them is by taking them out of their boxed in ‘box’ in order to expand their box.”   And, we talked a few minutes more before I excuse myself and ran to class so I wouldn’t be late and have to ante up a dollar late fee for my cancer fund.

Thinking about what I said, on this upcoming Labor Day weekend, none of us can make a difference by being indifferent.  I’ll repeat that:  none of us can make a difference by being indifferent.  You can’t be wide awake if you teach in your sleep.  We academics need to exercise ‘extraordinary persistence’ with the firm and unswerving belief that no one is ordinary.  After all, every professional was once a rank amateur.  Even if we think we know who students are, we don’t know who they may become anymore than than they do.  I mean remember my vision:  to be that guy who is there to help each student help her- or himself to become the person she or he is capable of becoming.   It’s an adventure.  It’s an inconvenience or discomfort or distraction, only if you see it that way.  For me, the adventure is an invigorating challenge; it’s possibility; it’s opportunity; it’s the spinal column of inseparable vertebrae of excitement, faith, belief, hope, love, joy, and significance.

Sure, I’m an optimistic believer and lover; what’s the use of being anyone else?  Do you really think you can build something positive with a bunch of negative attitudes?  I don’t.  So, I struggle to help them see that achievement so often does not require extraordinary ability or intelligence as much as extraordinary effort. I model my belief that they are each special and “all” they have to do is to apply their ordinary abilities with extraordinary persistence.  I help them to see that effort is possibility and opportunity, and that without constant self-renewal and adaptation they are not alive and well.  By valuing caring as much as knowing, kindness more than authority, I have found that whatever comes from an unconditionally caring and kindly heart has a far better chance of wining over their hearts, and ultimately their minds.

I don’t let any student go alone or feel alone on this journey; I educate with a reverence for each student, and I know there is no telling what a heart can hold.   When we are aware of what others are doing, when we applaud their efforts, when we acknowledge their successes, when we encourage them, when we help each of them, we all win.  So, I approach and treat each student with grace, dignity, gentleness, kindness in the hope they will acquire a sense of sacredness about themselves.  I help students help themselves, by giving them control, ownership, and responsibility for themselves.  I help students learn that they can sing rather than to sigh, dance rather than plod, stand tall rather than sit passively; I help students fan their own inner embers of possibility into flames of accomplishment rather than merely sift through the cold ashes of impossibility;  I help them see that there are really no mistakes or failures, only lessons to be learned; I help them learn to have belief and faith in themselves rather than constantly distrusting themselves; I help them create the kind of selves in whom they can trust and with whom they will be joyful to live.  And, I just keep the faith and keep up the effort with the firm belief that persistence will get me and each of them there; and, if not there, closer.

Louis