I had just come to the decision that I was bored to tears with my old journals and was just going to skip ahead to the part I've been working up to, when I realized that the next couple of days are actually fairly interesting. Long, but interesting. In fact, if you are willing to scroll down, or wade through more of the usual, you will get to a major statement. I am currently working on getting my summer course ready, and making revisions to my fall courses, so I have course design and teaching issues still in mind, even though I am supposed to be switching gears to writing research articles. And of course there is always politics. I may even be able to write a spiritual post about the campaign if I have some time this weekend. My journals are full of comment on my teaching; I usually don't present that here as it is not the subject of the blog. But this time it does seem relevant.
March 23, 2007
Yesterday my first class was still kind of dead. They just give me these looks, as if everything I'm saying is perfectly obvious and doesn't deserve to be answered. But then of course when you ask them, they don't know how to answer and they'll miss exam – EASY – exam questions. But that look, like it is all so obvious, is deadly. Jim recognized what I meant as soon as I said it. When you see it, even when you are seasoned, if when you've seen what a class will do with an exam, you still get thrown. I start questioning myself. Is this obvious? Too much to discuss? Is it old news? Stuff they've done a hundred times and know forwards, backwards and sideways? Do they all think I'm a droning old bag, going over it again?
And as self doubt creeps in, I begin skipping examples, requiring fewer people to throw in an answer, my voice becomes more shrill and the lesson I had planned to be so engaging and lead them down the path to enlightenment becomes just an exercise in stamina – can we all survive until saved by the bell? Horrible. I'd completely doubt my lesson plans except that I have that second section. They come in and while not a dream team in terms of engaged participation, they are heads and shoulders over the first section. They answer questions; act like they are actually thinking things through instead of going through the motions. They laugh at my jokes, and some ask questions and some nod, and I can sometimes see lights go on in heads and I know connections are being made, and then I know that my lesson plan wasn't terrible, and it wasn't all terrifically obvious, and then I have to wonder if instead, it wasn't entirely over the heads of the first class.
Teaching is a hard job! No matter how well you plan, you can never predict what any group of students will be like. However, I am getting better at thinking about where the average student will be in their knowledge and skills, and what kinds of gaps will be necessary for me to fill to get them where I want them to go, and then plan for that. Just build into the design of the course a way for them to get and practice the skills they need. As you know, since it is all I ever talk about. But it has been really helpful to apply the Tao te Ching to my teaching. My students are such a huge – a disproportinate – part of my life. Something I'm pretty sure they have no idea of. They'd probably freak out if they knew how much time I think about them as individuals, and of course as a class.
Well, it's 4 am. Should I go back to bed? Sleep for 2 hours? Or make coffee and just go on? Think with what my side is saying, I'll go for the coffee and Vicodin.
59
For governing a country well
There is nothing better than moderation.
The mark of a moderate man
Is freedom from his own ideas.
What an incredible line! Instead of thinking "it is better to not be a drunk" and being so tied to that idea that you become a rigid tee- totaler, you can be moderate in drinking. Instead of rigidly clinging to your own notions about what should happen next, or what the best theory or model is, one can listen to others, modify, expand, etc. Being free from one's own ideas ought also to be the mark of a scientist and a scholar.
Tolerant like the sky,
All-pervading like sunlight,
Firm like a mountain,
Supple like a tree in the wind,
He has no destination in view
And makes use of anything
Life happens to bring his way.
Nothing is impossible for him,
Because he has let go,
He can care for the people's welfare
As a mother cares for her child.
For governing a classroom well, there is nothing like moderation. It fits. I think this is a timely reminder, as I sit here, halfway through the first semester of my course design, and orders for fall text books will be requested next week. It is a good time to thoughtfully review how things have worked so far. And moderation can be a useful idea in this. Have I asked too much of the students in terms of work? I actually think not. Their grumbling has been really minimal. It is unfortunate that it is too much for me. But that's important. Isn't this verse telling me that being slavish to my ideas that the students need all of this practice is unhealthy? It is if I insist on doing it even though it so wipes me out that I can't give even the (XXX) students other things they need, let alone the (XXX) students, my research and service, my husband! So I'll need to give some thought to how to give students all those good things in moderation.
I need to try to plan each class with the whole picture of my life and duties in mind. Make sure there is balance and moderation. Then, in the class, group work is a good thing, but not every day. Ditto lecture, discussion, video, in-class writing, etc. I need to be free of my own ideas about what works in the classroom, and how much time it should take. I need to trim enough material to be sure to leave some extra days – at least 3 – for video and just taking longer to do what we need to do.
What about other areas of my life? Where else am I immoderate in my ideas? I am not moderate in the coffee I drink, or the sweets I eat, but what else? My face – due to an idea I have of what a woman's face should be like – no hair or clogged pore is allowed on my face! And of course, in going after them I sometimes make a bigger mess than I started with. Okay, but where am I not free in my ideas?
I have worked so much on this, and started out fairly open-minded, that it is hard for me to see where I am closed. I am certain that there are things I am inflexible about, but I do try to address them when I become aware of them, so the ones I have are the one's I am not aware of.
I'm very flexible in my theortecial approaches, which doesn't mean there aren't some theories I would never use; I don't agree with them. Ditto with religion and religiousity. Maybe it's in my ideas about Bush, and the religious right, and the neo, or theo-cons. But I don't at all think the book is saying one must be open to all ideas, even the ones we have considered and rejected as wrong, ill-conceived, immoral, unjust or evil. So I don't know. I'll have to keep thinking on it, and keeping my eyes open for ideas I ought to free myself of.
Looking at the description of the example – wasn't it brilliant of the writer(s?) to make statemenst about the Tao and how one should live one's life, and then follow up with a template? A model? I find it so helpful.
Tolerant as the sky, which sees all and everything and doesn't turn away. The differences students bring to class – I'm tolerant of most except those that interfere with learning. And I am less tolerant of those who don't fit my idea of what a student should be, by which I mean – people who are not there to learn, who are exceedingly lazy (I tolerate some laziness) or who are openly hostile to ideas and thinking. I could work more on freeing myself of ideas of "good" students. If some have decided to hang out in college without really applying themselves, who am I to judge them? I must evaluate their performance as part of my job, but as long as they aren't hurting the class, I can do better at accepting them – as students and people – in my heart. They may still learn something they need, whether or not they ever apply themselves. Or I might learn something from them.
I definitely need to be more tolerant of Jim. I think that living with another human being – for life – makes this a life-long project. Does it really matter how a person chews their food? Probably not. Another idea I've been trapped by.
At this moment, I do not get at all how a person can be "all pervasive as sunlight." One's tolerance, acceptance, love might make an attempt at it, but I'm gonna let this one go for now.
Firm like a mountain; that's pretty firm. Not unchanging, though. What am I firm in? Those same things I've been saying I'm not tolerant of or can't free (or don't want to free) my mind from. Like loving Jim and others. Believing in good, in helping one's fellows and receiving help from them. Of leaving the world better than you found it. So go ahead and be firm in these things, yet "supple as a tree in wind" at the same time. Firm, not rigid. Solid, but not impenetrable.
I really like the next part but I don't know how much I can apply it. How can I have "no destination in view"? I want to arrive at tenure, at having published articles, at building a study-abroad program, at being a loving and helpful wife, daughter, sister, aunt and friend. I want to arrive at my own center, able to control my responses to pain and disappointment. I want to arrive at wisdom. And it wouldn't hurt to arrive at solvency. Surely it isn't wrong or unhealthy to have such goals, so Lao-tzu must be saying something else.
Maybe these general goals are okay, it's having specific paths or plans for what they would look like fulfilled that is not helpful. Such as having one's heart set on a particular job for Jim, or a certin house. Even tenure here. A specific view of what a "good" wife or friend is, an image of what wisdom would look like (tall and bearded with a funny hat?).
If one doesn't have any distraction like this in mind, any preconceived notions, then one becomes free to "make use of anything life puts/brings into one's way". Flexibility. I love this idea, and I've tried to follow it. I know I've wanted to spend my life learning and writing and teaching, I just didn't know how for years. And even now, in this job, I won't be destroyed if I don't get to keep it. I just need to keep being this way; be wary of coming to want a particular thing too much.
The worst danger is Jim's job. When he applies for certain ones it is super hard not to want them with all of my heart. . . The Universe has a plan for us. I do believe, despite our free will, that if we are in balance with the Tao, have a good relationship with God, or identify with our Atman Brahman, or achieve Buddha-nature – however you want to put it – if we do that, then there is a place for us in the great Tapestry of life. Dr. K. called me an optimist. I'm not sure that's quite true, but I do have faith in the Universe. So I need to not hope for one particular job, but just greet Life openly, see what it brings me/us, and use that.
If I can do that – not only will our future take care of itself but we will both be better leaders. I had kind of forgotten we began with leadership. The promise here is that, "having let go of our ideas about what's right, we'll eventually be able to truly act in the best interests of others," to truly care about and protect the welfare of all. Quite a promise.
To change the subject somewhat, I am reading Orson Scott Card's Rachel and Leah, the third in his Women of Genesis series. And I think it is pretty good. Maybe not quite as good as Sarah and Rebecca, because in those he didn't have to split his attention.
What I wanted to say, though, is that my reaction is somewhat different. And it made me realize something that I am a little bit afraid to say, because of its profundity, how much it might mean. I think that I really do not believe in Yahweh anymore. At least not as He has come to be understood. And maybe it might seem to a reader that this is not news; I've written a lot that questions and doubts and rails at God.
But when I was younger that was something of a game. The equivalent of a child stamping her foot and saying, "I hate you!" to a parent. Other times I was expressing anger and betrayal and hurt. Sometimes it was real doubt, but the kind of doubt Paul spoke of, that can still be contained by belief.
For much of the time I've spent doubting and questioning, I believed in my heart that I would one day make peace and be able to find myself in Christianity. Or Judaism, at least. Perhaps even Islam. I've believed Jesus when he said "Seek and you shall find."
And I still believe that, have faith in it. But what I think I may have realized is that the path is never going to lead back to Judeo-Christianity for me. Yahweh is not, ultimately, what I was seeking. Since I have been steeped from early infancy on, in belief in this One God's presence, and have felt Him and praised and wrestled with Him, it is scary and sad and painful to give Him up.
Scary, because what if I'm wrong? He's a fearsome God. Jealous, demanding, and vengeful. But so sad, too, because He is gentle and loves unconditionally; because He knows the hairs on my head and rejoices for the lost lamb. He's been the recipient of so many thousands of my prayers. I've directed enormous amounts of energy into pleasing, serving, loving and trying to understand Him. Will I really be able to give Him up?
What makes it at least potentially possible is that I think I believe that I am not going to have to give up what is There, at the end of my seeking path. There is something there. It isn't "god" itself I no longer believe in, but Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah, the god of the Jews, Christians and Muslims.
And so in a way it is not that I don't believe in Him, it is that I DO belive in Him/It/Her. There is a God who might even have spoken to Hebrews. But they and everyone after has gotten it so mixed up that I don't think it is even close enough that I can squeeze in under the multi-definitional umbrella of "Person of the Book."
My mother will be dismayed. It's strange. There will be a bit of a hole that has to do with history and ritual more than anything else. But the point is, it isn't any longer – or at least it isn't right now – a matter of my wanting desperately to believe, wanting to be converted, aching for a touch from on high. It is that all of that yearning is gone. It has been replaced with a quieter, more peaceful certainty that there is pattern and meaning in the Universe, and that I am part of it.
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