It was a sharp low-fifties out there this early or late morning.  I'm 
not sure which.  I hate this time change.  Anyway, as I cut through the crisp 
air, several things started to come together.  I felt myself getting in the 
groove for a day-long workshop on creating a motivating classroom and a major 
presentation I'm making with my good friend Todd Zakrajek on how who we are 
impacts on how we teach, both at the Lilly conference on collegiate teaching at 
Miami University to be held in a couple of weeks.  I was tying that mulling in 
with some thoughts about sections of Gregory Berns' new book on brain research 
dealing with those tiny neurons have more than a tiny impact on why and how we 
perceive, think, feel, and act.  I was also thinking about some student 
journals I recently had read that revealed how one of their professors in 
another department sees things through the eyes of a pathological 
self-proclaimed "weed 'outer'" rather than through the lens of a therapeutic 
nurturer.  And finally, there was a message last night from a professor at a 
northeastern university.  Embedded in her message was a question about 
fundamentals that I have been mulling over the last couple of weeks in 
preparation for Lilly.  She asked me, "Dr. Schmier, could you tell me what is 
your most important pedagogical tool?"  

        "That's it!"  I exclaimed to myself in a eureka moment on the back leg 
of my power walk.   I rushed into the house, grabbed a cup of steaming coffee, 
and answered her question. "You want to know what my most important teaching 
tool is?  Well, it's me.  The truism, founded on research findings, that a 
student doesn't care what you know until she or he first knows you care about 
her or him is true.  My teaching is done by and with conscious intention.  An 
'I intend to' transforms an 'I'll try' or a 'I hope I can' from a hesitancy 
into an unhesitant purposefulness; doubtful becomes an influential doubtless; 
challenges change from impassable obstacles to scalable opportunities. I have 
found that I cannot escape the power of my intentions. After all, it's our 
intentions that set our priorities, marshal our resolve, and lays in our course 
of action.  And, where I am and who I am and where I am heading are the result 
of the clear, positive, and empowering priorities and resolve nourished by my 
vision.  And, then, I put them to work for each student.  My intentions are 
rooted in two fundamental outlooks on life in general and on each student in 
particular.  First, when I beat cancer four years a go, when I survived a 
cerebral hemorrahage last year, I consciously decided that surviving was not 
enough for me.  I decided I was going to thrive as well.  I decided I was going 
to unwrap the present of every minute of the present and make each day a new 
and shining one.  Second, I am a people person.  I believe I am first and 
foremost in the people business.  And, I am enthralled by students.  I go on 
campus determined to improve and honor the lives of ordinary students as 
anything but ordinary.  That is the inseparable linkage between my philosophy 
of life, my celebration of each student, my vision of my mission, and my 
teaching methods.  I teach each student with conscious and intended 
unconditional, unlimited, and unending love, faith, hope, belief, kindness, 
awareness, newness, challenge, commitment, dedication, perseverance, otherness, 
and empathy.  My vision is to be the person who is there to help them help 
themselves become who and what each is capable of becoming."

        I went on to tell this professor that for me there are what I call 
seven key "soulsets" or "heartsets," seven sets set in concrete that set up who 
I am as an educator, seven powerful determinates of my perception of, as well 
as my attitude and behavior toward students, seven elements of my vision, seven 
tightly held presumptions that guide whatever it is I do in and out of class.  
First, and foremost, for me the classroom is like my garden.  There is nothing 
that is ever ugly in it.  If it is capable of blooming, it stays.  Likewise, I 
believe that, without exception, there is good, ability, and potential in every 
student.  And, that is worth believing.  In the extraordinary, often besieged, 
more often confused, still more often overwhelmed, very real, complicated human 
parade that walks the halls and marches into the classroom, playing and 
working, sociable and solitary, trusting and suspicious, loyal and betrayed, 
outgoing and shy, laughing and raging, focused and distracted, disciplined and 
happy-go-lucky, joyous and sad, giggling and gasping, charming and maddening, 
smiling and frowning, healthy and sickly, yearning for love, and asking for 
nurturing, thrown about by the ebb and flow, the swells and eddies and logjams 
of the many currents of life, I've never known a student who wasn't worth the 
trouble and effort required to make her or his life whatever it could possibly 
be.   While I may not love what a student does, I'll not stop loving her or 
him.  I have never found that a student is a headache as long as I keep loving, 
having faith in, believing in, and having hope for that student, and if I am 
helping her or him help herself or himself to become the person she or he is 
capable of becoming.   So, my head never aches when I am supporting, 
encouraging, or comforting a student.  Second, I know I must know and believe 
that I have the therapeutic power to be that inspiring or charismatic or 
nurturing person in a student's life.  Third, I know that a student's sense of 
belonging, security, and self-confidence in a classroom provides the 
scaffolding for deep learning beyond grade getting.  Fourth, I believe every 
student comes on campus with a desire to learn though she or he may not know 
all there is to know about how to do it.  Fifth, I believe that students will 
be more responsive and motivated to learn when I first create a safe, trusting, 
and secure environment in which all students feel comfortable, valued, and 
noticed.  Sixth, the classroom is a shop of "serious novelties" and adventurous 
"let's see what happens" experiments that tap into students' unused strengths.  
To keep myself and students fresh, sharp, on our toes, the classroom, as recent 
brain researched has revealed, has to be washed each day with breezes of crisp, 
fresh air; that is, we must never get into a predictable, old-hat, stagnating, 
repetitive, and mind-numbing "ho-hum" routine. "Newness," new ways of looking 
at, thinking about, and using both the material and ourselves must be the rule 
of each day.  And finally, I accept that most students are not adults; that no 
student is perfect; that good people will occasionally lapse; that things do 
not always go the way I want or expect; that nothing is quick and easy; and, 
that nothing works 100% all the time, everywhere, with everyone. 

        "Yeah," I ended my answer, "there is both an 'I' and 'We' in teaching 
and learning.  I, like you, am my most important and powerful teaching tool."

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                 /\   /\  /\               /\
(229-333-5947)                                /^\\/  \/   \   /\/\__/\ \/\
                                                        /     \/   \_ \/ /   \/ 
/\/    \      /\
                                                       //\/\/ /\    
\__/__/_/\_\    \_/__\
                                                /\"If you want to climb 
mountains,\ /\
                                            _ /  \    don't practice on mole 
hills" -



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