So, there I was, in the waiting area of the Atlanta airport, waiting--and
waiting--and waiting. I was futilely struggling to concentrate on my Chinese
language
lessons. I felt like a Jekyll and Hyde, exhilarated and, though I kept my
promise to
Susan not to over do it, emotionally drained and physically dog-tired. I had
just spent
what for me were three intense days in Greensboro, NC, at the Lily-South
Conference on
College and University Teaching. Susan had every right to be nervous and ask
that I check
in with her every day. It was the first time since my cerebral hemorrhage that
I've gone
off on my own. I was biting at the bit to get there. You see, for me
Lily-South was both
a coming out and a coming home party. There were hardy hand-shakes, tight
hugs, toasts,
and some kisses. A couple of people, hearing I would be there, brought "glad
you're still
with us" presents. It was a humbling time that brought tears to my eyes and
chokes in my
throat on more than one occasion. Aside from my Susan's arms and the
classroom, the Lily
gatherings are one of the most comfortable places for me. It's when and where
I'm doing
what I'm supposed to do. It's very natural to me, and I am extraordinarily
grateful.
At Lily, I did not see one person, not one, who was there to impress
anyone with
any credentials however so impressive so many were. We all were there as
learners. No
one was there regretting that she or he should be somewhere else doing
something else. We
each were there to help others learn with all the fullness and richness we
could imagine,
with all the creativity and imagination we could muster. It was a time of a
lot of
listening. It was a time of making new friends. Maybe the most important
thing was in a
session on getting students to dream I was once again reminded that through
thick and
thin, ups and downs, sickness and health, I know one thing for sure. Just to
be alive is
a magnificent thing that is not to be wasted for one moment; that whatever we
focus on
grows more influential in our lives; that far too many of us define themselves
by the
difficulties that come our way and how others define us rather than by the
possibilities
and our own true selves, that this conference and other Lily conferences, and
the
supporting and encouraging networks we consequently weave, help us to focus on
possibilities and our potential rather than on those problems and limits.
There are lots
of reasons to surrender; there are lots of reasons not to surrender. The
question is
which we each choose to focus on is our choice and our choice alone. But, I
also left
Greensboro with all sorts of new ideas bouncing around in my head on how to
improve in the
classroom. I'm now figuring out how to incorporate You Tube into my classes.
I learned
about things to tweak and improve my "getting to know you" classroom community
building
exercises. And, I learned to improve my syllabus. You see, you can always
teach this
young dog new tricks.
Anyway, sitting next to me in the airport was a mother reading a book.
Her little
boy was playing with a batch of differently shaped and colored Play-Doh.
Getting nowhere
with Chinese, I put down my textbook and watched, and watched, and watched. He
pressed
his finger into a small square of a blue piece and left a hole. He rolled a
cigar shaped
yellow piece on the less-than-clean carpeted floor. Bits and pieces of all
kinds of what
was once invisible yucky stuff became embedded that was impossible to remove.
I asked the
mother for permission to play with the boy. When she agreed, the child in me
came out. I
told the boy to take a green piece, flatten it, and press it against a comic
strip of a
newspaper that was lying on a near-by seat. To his amazement, when he pulled
the piece
back, it mirrored the pictures. Then, we took a red piece and rolled it
against my skin.
I showed him that every hair left its mark. Finally, just before my boarding
call, he
pulled away another piece and pressed it hard against my sweater. When he
pulled it away,
he showed me every impression of the fibers as well as the embedded fibers
themselves. As
a present, he gave me a few pieces.
On the plane to Valdosta, thinking about that upcoming glass of wine with
Susan, I
started to unthinkingly play with the Play-Doh. I impishly squished it on the
tray,
rolled it, flattened it, twisted it, and made it into a bagel and pretzel
shape. I almost
asked what the person sitting next to me was thinking as I noticed his furtive
glances.
Yet, the longer I played with the Play-Doh, the more serious I became, the more
I began to
study it, and something began stirring within me. As in the airport, I pressed
it against
a magazine, against my sweater, against my skin. I stared at the images, the
impressions,
the marks, the stuff sticking to it.
It suddenly hit me. Play-Doh, like those people in the classroom with
me, comes in
a variety of different shapes and colors; no two pieces are identical; each has
limitless
potential to become the infinite number of unique shapes, colors, and sizes.
That's what
makes teaching is so important, so complicated, so demanding, so humbling, so
exciting,
and so fulfilling. Everything about a teacher, her or his attitude, perception,
assumption, emotion, demeanor, and action touches a student and makes an
impression.
LouisMake 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 /\ /\ /\ /\
(229-333-5947) /^\\/ \/ \ /\/\__/\ \/\
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