There's a nip in the air this morning. My budding roses are are
rosy-petaled. I guess March hasn't really decided whether to go out a
proverbial baa or roar. That chill, however, isn't just coming from the
weather. Over the past week, I've received a barrage of icy scoffs from I
guess what would be called sceptics because of what one professor at an
eastern community college called my "extravagant ambition" and another
called my "relentless but unreachable idealism." A third accused me of
being commited to students instead of my discipline. On that charge, I
admit that I am a people person. I am a student junkie. I am not edgy
about being involved with students because students for me are not "edgy"
people who are sitting on the edge of my academic profession. I do not
believe that teaching is an "unfamous" endeavor dealing the the
"unfamous."
If there is one principle I have come to honor in the past decade,
it is that education is not a world of impersonal forces, theories,
principles, statistics, test scores, and subject matter. Drawing on my
Emerson, I'll take a stand and say that is no learning, no teaching, no
subject, no education. There is only biography. If that makes me a
target, so be it. If there is any--any--relevant insight I have gained in
the past decade since my epiphany, it is that the individual, that magical
and mysterious human being--student or teacher--in the classroom
profoundly matters. I am slowly seeing that the more we are preoccupied
with the mechanics, with the technology, with the pedagogy, with
assessment, the less we will see the person of the student as well as the
person of ourselves. The more we will be trapped by blind spots.
God, all that was brought home this week. What a week it has
been. It was one of those "what else can happend" weeks. And, it seemed
that all those "elses" happened. I can't tell you how many hats I had to
wear. It started at the end of last week, ran into the weekend, and
continued unabated. And, maybe I'm more sensitive, more aware, because of
the week it has so far been. It has been a seismic week. It has been a
week of tears and sneers. I've experienced the proverbial agonizing
depths of "no" and the exhuberant heights of "yes." It has been emotioning
draining. It has been a risk-taking time. It has been a time I drooped
my head and soul in sorrow for a student or two and a time I raised my
hands and spirits in their triumph. There was a moment a day or two ago I
faltered. I didn't want to take anymore. I e-mailed a disraught student
with a sighful and tired two word: "Why me." She immediately replied with
a humbling and splash-in-the-face three word: "No one else." It has been
an awesome time. It has been a sad time. It has been a mysterious time.
It has been a magical time. What a time.
It has been a time to remember. I just have to say without
revealing confidences that I have been reminded this week just how much
every class is fraught with an eclectic mix of individuals who come in a
variety of sizes, ages, colors, sounds, shapes, experiences, backgrounds,
cultures, trials and tribulations, other lives, memories, fears,
interests, expectations, tastes, talents, abilities, potentials, and
personalities. There is a serendipitousness that assures me that I never
know what I am going to find on any given day. I have to be constantly on
the alert. No, I have to be constantly aware. I have to listen, see,
feel, smell. I can't stand around flat-footed; I have to be on my toes.
I have to be a master at impromptu. Each place, each day, each person is a
place of challenge, discovery, surprise where the promise of the unknown
beckons from every seat every day. Teaching makes me very aware of the
potential of each person, where that person currently is, and where that
person can be. The power of care, faith, hope, belief, and love can be
challenging. It can be draining. It can, I assure you, more so can be
awesome. They are signposts in my heart and mind which I pass time and
time again for direction each day as I set forth afresh on new adventures.
I'm not sure most people understand the power of a credo, of
constructing a vision, dream, goal, and then believing that it can be
accomplished because it ought to be. I have to teach boldly. I believe
that whatever ought to be done, can be done; and if it can be done, "all"
I have to do is do whatever it takes to get it done. For others that may
be extravagant ambition or unreachable idealism or irrational
touchy-feely. And, that's okay. I just don't believe we can recruit
students, work to retain them, give them dreams, and then walk away. I
believe if we recruit students it is because we believe in them, and if we
believe in them we have a responsibility for their success. For me that
credo generates power, generates energy, generates actions, generates
stamina, generates the capacity to reach.
You don't get those same feelings where the subject is the focus
and every student is treated as the same. You don't have a shot at
unleashing the full potential of each individual, harnessing the energy
and spirit of each student, unlocking the power of each individual.
To paraphrase Goethe, teaching boldly has genius, power, and magic
in it.
Make it a good day.
--Louis--
Louis Schmier [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Department of History www.therandomthoughts.com
Valdosta State University www.halcyon.com/arborhts/louis.html
Valdosta, GA 31698 /~\ /\ /\
229-333-5947 /^\ / \ / /~\ \ /~\__/\
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-_~ / "If you want to climb mountains, \ /^\
_ _ / don't practice on mole hills" - \____
