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Copyright © Louis Schmier and Atwood Publishing.
Date: Tue, 19 Jun 2001 08:25:48 -0400 (EDT)
Random Thought: Journey
Sunday. 5:something or other pm EST. Why aren't I asleep? We, I
and Susan, got up at 2:30 am EST to head home. Now, here we are, four
planes, three very long lay overs in very unaccommodating airports, a few
restless naps in seats designed for misshapened aliens, two
life-threatening airports meals, three challenging airline culinary
delights, and sixteen hours later bumping somewhere over North or South
Carolina, an hour from landing and a two hour drive from the house. What
a journey! Even though even my adrenalin is tired, I am still on a high
from the annual STLHE conference in St. John's, Newfoundland. It must be
a new-found land; the airlines still haven't figured out a civilized way
of getting there and back. Nevertheless, the conference was well-worth the
convoluted journey. It itself was a rewarding, exciting, enlightening,
exhilarating, and very profound journey. I only regret that I didn't get
to kiss the cod. Don't ask.
Speaking of journey, there in Newfoundland I made two new-found
friends from total strangers. It was totally unexpected. When isn't it.
We connected, each in the strangest place and in the strangest way.
Strange, and maybe not. Sometimes I don't ask questions. Anyway, they
sent me deeper on the journey into my self and sent themselves deeper into
their own selfs. No, I didn't just meet them; I was graced by them.
I once told someone about Joseph Campbell who wrote that he most
demanding journey of the hero, the greatest abyss the hero has to cross,
the biggest challenge the hero faces is to going face to face with his
self. How right he was. How easy it is to talk of that which is easy and
successful; how hard it is to talk of that which is hard and unsuccessful.
How easy it is to focus our attention outside of us; how hard it can be to
turn our attention within.
I had once been a card carrying member of that academic pundit
class, like a zealous policeman hellbent on making an early arrest or a
prosecutor determined to quickly try and convict in a high profile case,
that is often obsessed with quickly finding the immediate cause. But,
what if we search our own souls for culpability? Doing that may not make
for a tidy sound bite or a convenient target or a simple antidote, but the
simple--and unimaginably complicated--truth is that if anyone says they
don't have a subjective bone in their body, please don't laugh or snarl.
Cry. We all have one little bitty subjective bone, one little biased bone,
maybe one tiny hateful bone in our bodies that bends our posture. It's not
the bone that's the problem so much as it is our denial of its very
existence. It is the utmost of absurdities to ignore the fact that "the
system" is each of us, to ignore that "them" or "it" is each of us, to
ignore how each and every one of us, each and every day, have had and
still have an impact at least by acquiesence on the cultures of our
classroom and campus as a whole.
It seems to be a vicious circle. When problems seem
overwhelming, we either back away and acquiesence thereby buying into the
system, or we grasp for sound-bite solutions as a way of convincing
ourselves that the problems are not insoluble and the alienation is not
that deep, or we point our minds and fingers in order to convince
ourselves that the problems are not of our making. Of course, the
hollowness of these three approaches just increases the feelings of
futility and alienation, but for a moment we feel better. We pull out a
plum and get elevated; the villan, the student, gets vanquished; a sinner
gets stoned; the victims, us, are avenged.
Campbell is also right when he infers that only by accepting
personal responsibility, by replacing the blame game with the
responsibility game, can each of us possibly break this deadlock. The
bottom line is that we each have control over what we do, and say and
feel, and act.
We all want inward peace, but so many of us won't look inside.
The idea that we might be at fault isn't easy to accept. We each find it
difficult to think what we do and what we think isn't all that it should
be. We so often find it easy to define ourselves by the letters before
and after our name or the number of lines on our resume, and let them say
who we are. So often it is easy to think that the value is tied to the
price ticket.
If I have learned anything about teaching, it is that the
extrinsic "stuff" is so often a fashion accessory. I have learned that so
much of what there is to learn about teaching has to do with discovering
myself. To think that teaching is all about technique, technology,
theory, assessment, evaluation, tenure, salary, and so on and on and on is
akin to chugging snakeoil expecting a miracle cure.
Ten years ago, I started taking the lid off my life. Until then, I
really couldn't take the lids off students' lives though I deluded myself
into thinking I was. I mean, how could I set anyone on a journey that I
had not mapped out, explored, traveled and am traveling. I have discovered
that looking inside myself will uncover many potentials. From experience,
I can tell you that it was and still is tough. It's tough because I was
afraid I wouldn't like what I would find. It's tough because I am afraid
of what I would find. It's tough because I was afraid I wouldn't find what
I wanted to find. It's tough because I had convinced myself that I
couldn't and didn't have to change.
Anyway, my chance meeting with these two neat people jolted me as
much as those tiny air molecules are doing to this less than massive
regional jet contraption by atomic size molecules of air. They startled
me enough for me to again start asking myself, "What kind of a job are you
doing?" Suddenly, throughout the conference, a bunch of eye-opening,
mind-opening, and soul opening questions kept hitting me, and they won't
go away. I don't want them to go away: what am I doing with what I've
got? Aren't I full of potential improvement that I am not using?
Couldn't I change my attitude for being grateful for the small things we
take for granted and let go unnoticed? Am I so sure I'm doing everything
possible to make my teaching a success. Am I using my capabilities well?
Are there capabilities yet undiscovered, untapped, and unused. Do I use
"that's not me" or "it's not my style" or a host of other disguised
"can'ts" and "won'ts." Do I recognize and appreciate all I have to be
grateful for? Do I let my fears dominate in the battle with my faith? Am
I in control or have I assigned control over to the actions and opinions
of others?
Those are important questions for me. They are the foremost
shatterers of mythology in the world, they define the too often blurred
line between myth and reality. That's important because if I have any
chance of changing the attitude and actions of people around me, however
slightly and imperceptively, "all" I have to do is to change myself.
So many of us want students to be perfect so we can practice
e-teaching: "easy teaching." Yet, we haven't attained perfection
ourselves or striven to improve ourselves. We criticize students, but
cannot recognize the faults in ourselves. We don't attend to our own
faults. Yet, we so bemoan the imperfections of students. So many of us
find it so easy to have a good whine and so hard to have a good
celebration. We have such a capacity to remember difficulty and failure
and forget success and achievement. So many of us are so much more
negative than positive. So many of us cry over what we don't have and
wish our teaching was different. We pollute ourselves and poison our
souls. We so punish ourselves with dregs of bitterness in our mouths and
spirits, that we're on the verge of practicing negative, impossibility
thinking. We strip teaching of its excitement and romance, and throw
ourselves into the winter of our dreams. We become fire fighters instead
of fire lighters. The deepening chill saps our energy; we lose our
potency; and we slowly lose consciousness as we get frozen. We don't even
think about making changes. We defend and excuse what we already do. It
tends to make us lid-closers when we should be lid-lifters; it influences
us to subtract value from ourselves when we should be value-adders. We put
lids on students, devalue students: students who are trying to grow and
stretch and don't know how, because we don't think they're the "right
material" with the right stuff and because we aren't growing and
stretching and don't know how.
Storing up grievances is such a waste. But we do love our
negatives, don't we? If we didn't, why do we clutch those "it's not me"
and "that's not my style" and the "they say" so tightly that our knuckles
whiten?
It's a waste of time when we could be teaching with greater
satisfaction. What's the point of keeping a record of disappointments?
When I keep such an accounting, all I am doing is restoring them to a
painful present and reality. We so love to make memos of the horror of
those moments. I think when we do we are inflicting damage on ourselves
and on others. So many of us are trapped in what we feel is an irksome way
of life. So what do we do? We put lids on ourselves, let others puts
lids on us, hold down our potential, and try to manipulate people around
us into being more acceptable to us and more like us rather motivating to
strive for the best for them and us.
How easy it is to allow our old habits and set patterns to
dominate us! They bring us suffering, we accept them with almost
fatalistic resignation, for we are so used to giving in to them. We may
idealize freedom, but when it comes to our habits, we are completely
enslaved. Still, reflection can slowly bring us wisdom. Wisdom is not
just a way of knowing; it is a way of living. We can come to see that we
are falling again and again into fixed repetitive patterns, and begin to
long to get out of them. We may, of course, fall back into them, again
and again, but slowly we can emerge from them and change.
I think some people have the wrong take on change. I did. As I
look back on nearly a decade of change, it wasn't the letting go that
hurt. It was the holding on that hurt. All of the important battles are
waged within ourselves, all of our emotional and physical ammunition is
spent in that conflagration. We are our own largest obstacles, fighting
our own flaws, fears, and weaknesses. And, we are our own greatest
solutions, our greatest victories. Success and failure, victory and
defeat, lost opportunities and found opportunities are inside jobs. Pogo
figured that out.
Would you look if you you could foresee what a fabulous experience
it is to search out the real "me?" I assure you it is. And, if you tough
it out and look inside I guarantee--guarantee--you will find vast unused
qualities and abilities and strengths tucked away in the attics of your
spirit. We each are possessors of unlimited resources. The more we search
them out, discover them, and use them, the more we will push back against
and cancel out the difficulties that get so much of our attention. And
the freer and more authentic we will be.
Enough. I'm going to close my eyes and wish Scotty could beam me
and Susan home. And, you know what, when we do get home, for me it won't
be the same place and I won't be the same person because of at least those
two wonderful people. That is how it should be.
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