Copyright © Louis Schmier and Atwood Publishing.
Date: Tue 5/6/2003 4:58 AM
Random Thought: Last Day
Much of what I have learned about myself I have learned during
my solo morning walks, those reflective mobile moments of meditation
through the pre-dawn darkness. You know, solitude is not solitary
confinement. Aloneness is not lonliness. It is, if nothing else, a way
to get away from the cell phone. It is a step by step movement from tense
to sense, from tuning out to tuning in, from losing yourself to finding
yourself, from disengagement to encounter. My mind sort of settles down,
and I get very focused. It is amazing how often I have the question, or
no question, when I leave the house and find an answer before I walk
inside the house. Each block I walk gets me mysteriously through any
block I might have.
I do not find my reflection useless and frightening. I do not
find my walks dull or boring. To the contrary, my sense of aliveness is
sharpened. Understand, I love people. I love to be around people. I am a
people person. But, I think the silence and solitude of going alone for
six miles and for at least an hour every other day and being alone deserve
a place in every day life. It's in that mind- and soul-clearing place
where I'm free of imposed schedules, from what is expected of me, from
what I am obliged to perform. It is in that cleansing place that I can
pay attention to myself. I can freely engage in "wise" reflection that is
so necessary for "wise" thought and "wise" feelings and "wise" action.
It's in that momentary hermetic place where I submit to solitutde and
silence and learn things about myself that I cannot learn among others.
And, I have discovered that I would never have known who I truly was had I
not been alone with the world on those dark pre-dawn streets for all
those miles and all those hours over the past decade or so.
This morning is the morning nearing the end of the Spring
semester. I am almost finished suffering through that very uneducational
responsibility of coming up with final semester grades, and I am about to
go on an involuntary leave from teaching this summer.
When I exited the house this morning, I wasn't thinking all that
much except what I'll be doing this coming summer. With every step,
however, I started thinking of Molly (not her real name) on that last day
of classes in one particular class last week. She really got to me. The
more I thought about her the more I took a reflective cruise through the
calm and rough personal and professional seas of this past year, and
started thinking about the first days of the coming fall semester.
It was closure, the last day of class, when we express consciously
and publically what the class meant to each of us, what we got out of the
class, and what we're taking with us. One after another each student
stood up, introduced him/herself for the last time, showed us an object he
or she had brought to class, and explained how it symbolized what this
class meant to him or her. Then, it came to Molly.
She was the next to last student. She couldn't do it. She stood
up and lost it. She broke out into convulsive sobbing. She needless
apologized over and over as she valiantly struggled for control. From
various points in the class came soft, compassionate whispers, "It's
okay." "Let it go." "You're among family." "We're your friends."
"Nothing to feel embarrassed about."
She excused herself and left the room. A few students got up and
followed her out. We all quietly and patiently waited. She came back
after a few minutes. Her eyes were red. As she struggled to control
herself, she stammered, "This semester I've had to go through a lot of
stuff that I wouldn't have been able to handle if it weren't for my
community. My father had brain cancer. I loved him so much. I watched
him waste away and had to deal with him dying. My mother learned she had
breast cancer and I have had to miss classes to take her for tests and to
the doctors." She faltered. A tear formed in my eye. She recovered and
looked around. "If it wasn't for the support of these wonderful people in
my community and a lot of you in this class, I wouldn't have made it.
You are the 'salt of the earth.' I'll never forget any of you. Thanks."
She hesitated and then simply said, "That's all."
It was enough. Then, it was my turn and I started to talk about
how the doughnut I had brought symbolized what I was talking with me from
the class. And I have to admit, after Molly I almost didn't make it. I
was stunned by the sudden realization that each of us is the "salt of the
earth."
"Salt of the earth." What does that mean? What did Molly mean? I
don't know if it was an accidental choice of words or whether she was
merely quoting a phrase from Scripture, but she didn't say "you can be..."
or "you might be...." or "you ought to be..." or "you should be...." or
"you might consider being...." Molly pronounced, "you are...." No
choice. Just obligation. Just responsibility.
And, to salt both ourselves and our classes is a heavy
responsibily. It means we teachers are an essential element in the
improvement of the lives of others. We have the power to sprinkle around
little life-sustaining white grains of a brightening smile, a reassuring
word, a caring ear, an hopeful look, a believing gesture, or an
encouraging touch. By our feelings and thoughts and actions we have the
ability to leave such a wonderful taste in each student's mouth. We have
the opportunity to add an enhancing flavor to each person around us. We
can create a thirst, if we choose to be a salt lick, to question, imagine,
discover and create. And, if we do not believe with all of our heart that
our teaching truly matters and that we can make a difference, if we do not
have an authentic--an authentic--desire to contribute, if we have lost or
never have discovered our "why," if we do not self-administer what is
right, we become a shell of a condescending person, conforming to
ever-tightening and ever-dictating systems; our paycheck becomes merely a
mercenary's fee--an empty exchange of money for a task rendered at the
unquestioned beckoning of a patron.
Molly and other stuff have really gotten me into me. As I look
back on this year, there is so much more I have learned that can help me
maintain my savor, certainly sharpen by flavor, that will help me better
earn my "salarium agentum," that will help me come closer to being worth
my weight in salt. I would like to share what crystalized on my walk this
morning:
that I would much prefer to be in a place where my positive thinking
places me rather than where my negative thinking drags me or bogs me down;
that the definition of teaching is to change the world without taking on
the world;
that teachers are like competitive ice skaters: they have to excel in
both technical merit and artistic performance and earn scores based on a
combination of both high tech and high tingle;
that to be a good teacher you don't reveal to students how much you know
and how smart you are. You reveal to students how much they know and how
smart they are;
that it is better to act as explorers than as curators;
that behind every successful "what" and "how," is a purposeful "why;"
that only by having the courage to be different can I be a role model for
the dignity of individuality and uniqueness;
that kindness is always my best instinct, and sometimes I have to remind
myself kindly and gently to be kind;
that only by being true to myself can I be true to other people;
that forgiving others and letting go of grievances is really important,
but it is so tough;
that my immediate and strong emotional impulses are not always right or
wise and that I'm better off not saying anything or making any decisions
that can have a lasting impact;
that fighting "fire with fire," that backfiring a flame, only leaves
everyone in ashes;
that I can take more than I want to and more than I think I can, and that
I'm still not wild about having to do it;
that "winning at any cost" really isn't winning since there is no real
victory without integrity;
that teaching, like anything else, is grounded in a simple manner of
living--in love, belief, hope, and faith; it's not grounded in strict
adherence to the strict letters of the rules;
that often the approval of others simply costs too much;
that people of good will and intelligence often see things very
differently and that disagreements are inevitable. We just have to be
civil about it and respect each other;
that no matter how old I am, my life and my character are works in process
and that every single day brings opportunities to improve;
that if I can learn to control my attitudes and reactions I have greater
control, but it's easier to control my actions than my attitudes;
that I feel better when I am living an important life than living a life
to be important;
that the most significant thing I can do is help make someone else feel
his or her life is significant;
that it's not what happens to me that matters most, but what happens in
me;
that there is uncommon and extraordinary magic, wonder, joy, fulfillment,
richness, beauty, and richness in even the supposedly most common and
ordinary moments and people;
that the true test is my willingness to do the right thing even when it
costs more than I want to pay;
that when I am surprised at what goes on in the class, it is a reflection
that I really don't know what is going on in each student--or in myself;
that I must have an incurable heart condition;
that I must have a purpose that will energize and inspire me to the very
core, and that will render the daily annoyances and distractions
insignificant;
And, I've learned that if I throw these grains over my left
shoulder to blind the evil spirits, I will be better able to keep myself
righted however any situation or person may want to capsize me.
Pass the salt!
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