It is the first day of winter, the winter solstice, the shortest day of
the year,
Robert Frost's darkest evening of the year. So, early this morning I went out
"dashing
through the snow," South Georgia's wintry snow, that is. No, not the white
stuff that's
blanketing a lot of the country. I'm talking about the brown stuff. We here
in south
Georgia have been having a month long heavy blizzard of crunchy, sticking in
everything
and everywhere pine needles. With our thermometer hitting the high 70's, the
white stuff
wouldn't last very long. Anyway, during this academic seasonal break and the
break in our
seasonal temperatures, "Tis the season" to get into my flower gardens before
Susan and I
head off for nearly two weeks of spoiling rotten our west coast
grand-munchkins.
While I was raking, mulching, weeding, transplanting, seeding, plants,
and cutting
beds, I found I was Charles Dickens writing my own Christmas Carol of semester
past,
semester present, and semester future. I saw all sorts of metaphorical lessons
in my
garden for my classroom teaching and about each student. I thought I'd share
them with
you:
1. You know, there is nothing "dead" about the dead of winter. As an avid
gardener, I
must be an optimistic futurist, for I know that all the flowers of all the
tomorrows in my
garden rest in the seeds of today.
2. There is beauty, obvious and hidden, in the garden, and as I look for it,
I'll find
it. And, as I find it, I will realize and be grateful for the gracious gift
has been
given to me.
3. Two years ago, I lost over 300 prize amaryllis in a matter of two weeks to
some
disease. I have been slowly replacing them ever since. But, it taught me a
lesson, a big
lesson. The gorgeous blooms one season, mean nothing. Pests, climate, and a
host of
other factors mean that every season is going to be a new challenge. What
worked one
season may not or may need tweaking the next. Past success means nothing; nor
does past
failure. If I want my garden to bloom, I can't rest on either laurels or
failure. I've
got to approach my garden like I've never done anything before and just go out
there and
work at it in it.
4. You know, when I see a seed or bulb I perceive a blooming flower. All
seeds and
bulbs are in the process of becoming.
5. As a gardener, if I enter my garden doubting that a seed I sow or bulb I
plant, that
doubt will make me lose my commitment and dedication to doing whatever needs be
done to
nurture it, and the feeling of accomplishment I might have acquired if I did
not fear the
attempt would not occur.
6. No two places in my garden are the same; no two seasons are the same; no
two plants
are the same. A gardener is always an "attempter," a "pusher," a "let's
see-er."
7. If I want to improve the blooms on my flowers, I don't tend to the
existing blooms.
The blooms you see are created by the roots you don't see. So, I can change
tomorrow's
blooms only if I strengthen the hidden roots. After all, it's not about
watering and
feeding the plants; it's about retaining the water and nourishment after I've
left the
garden.
8. As a gardener I am always uneasy of defining gardening as the quest of the
prized
plant, if we mean a topiary approach of pruning plants in a quest for the
supposed perfect
specimen, if we mean the perfect garden layout. Personally, I have a different
conception
of gardening. I prize the method of cultivating a flower so that it fulfils to
perfection
its own natural conditions of growth. It shouldn't be any different in
education with the
cultivation of a student.
9. Students are like flowers. To grow and bloom, they need warmth,
nourishment, and
caring.
10. If each of us could see the miracle of a single flower, our whole attitude
towards
life would change. It's no different with seeing a student.
11. Those who contemplate the beauty of each flower find reserves of strength
that will
long endure.
12. Working in the garden, big or small, is, in the end, all about the joy of
helping a
seed or bulb bring itself to bloom. And, that joy is the fruit of patience,
persistence,
nurturing, acceptance, caring, and loving.
Susan and I warmly and sincerely wish each of you a glorious holiday
season, merry
Christmas, happy Chanukah, joyous Kwanzaa, and may you know only moments of
heart-filling
joy and reap only rich harvests of smiles in the coming year.
Make it a good day.
--Louis--
Louis Schmier
http://therandomthoughts.edublogs.org/
Department of
History http://www.newforums.com/Auth_L_Schmier.asp
Valdosta State University www. halcyon.com/arborhts/louis.html
Valdosta, Georgia 31698 /\ /\ /\ /\
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