Here I am sharing my last 2011 China Diary entry first:
Thursday, June 2. It's about five hours into a Delta flight somewhere
over the Pacific, leaving China five days before the Study Abroad Program is
concluded. The classes at Zhengzhou University are completed; I'll just miss
out on the winding down days in Zhengzhou and the "goings on" in Shanghai. I
had no choice. I had to be at my Susan's side. If you had heard her voice on
Monday, you would have understood. My Susan's recovery from her unexpected
back surgery had not been as easy, smooth, and relatively quick as the surgeons
had sworn assuringly up and down it would be. I had delayed my departure for
China by a week and missed the "touristy" stuff with the students in Beijing
so I could care for Susan during the first two weeks of her recovery; I had
arranged for our sister-in-law to come to help Susan during the third week; I
had my two sons on call if anything awry should arise in my absence; and, our
neighbors and friends assured me that they'd look after her as they did. So,
reluctantly, with Susan's assurance that all would be well, I left for China
and met up with the students for classes at Zhengzhou University. For the
next three weeks I was in China, but I wasn't. I wasn't my true self. I
wasn't with the students all the time; Susan was never at any moment far from
me in my heart and mind. I don't want to see what our telephone bill will be.
But, diary, I tell you now, I feel guilty about what Susan went through
"alone." In my defense, if there's one, had I known then what I know now about
what course Susan's recovery would really take, I wouldn't have left her at
all; I would have said the hell with the program, screw the salary, and the
students would have had to learn a lesson in how to hit life's curve balls.
Nothing--NOTHING--comes before my Susan. So, after listening to her voice last
Sunday, without a hesitation or regret, as soon as I hung up I was on the phone
with Delta. With their understanding and help, I changed my flights home,
arranged to fly from Zhengzhou to Shanghai on China Southern, and said my
good-byes to the students. That's what soul mates are supposed to do. I'm
flying so high I don't need this plane to get to Susan's side. I'm so excited
that I'll now be able to care for her and do for her, I have to admit that I
have tears in my eyes and my hands are shaking at this moment. And, if you had
listened to the excited joy in her voice, when I told her I was coming home
early, you'd know what I mean.
So, diary, to settle me down, I've been going over class stuff in order
to come up with final grades. I've been reading student daily journals from
both classes for the last couple of hours. More than a few were very personal
anguished entries about feeling disrespected, of being devalued or being
diminished or having to surrender and submit to demands imposed by someone
else's words or behavior, of fear of the consequences of going or not going
along to get along with the crowd. As the agonizing words of these entries
caught my heart, something was coming through them that triggered memories a
very brief Q/A we had with the general manager, Simon Yip, of the Coca Cola
bottling company in Zhengzhou, one of the largest throughout all China. So, I
stopped reading after one particularly tearful entry, put the journal down,
leaned back, thought, and pulled you out to jot down these words to you.
We were touring the bottling plant. The tour guide's presentation had
to be translated by the leader of our program since she didn't speak any
English. It was tedious not only because of the time it took to translate her
words, but because she had a script designed mainly for Chinese k-12 students
and wouldn't veer from it for American college students. Then, serendipity
stepped in. By chance, Simon Yip, happened to walk by. Seeing who we were,
especially since he had once worked for Coca Cola in Atlanta, he graciously
stopped to give us a very insightful talk about the workings of the plant. In
the course of his talk, he mentioned, as had been emphasized to us by the guide
at the beginning of the tour, that while the machinery of the production line
was the same machinery used by all bottlers, we could not take photographs
through the glass windows from our vantage point. I later asked that if the
production line held no industrial secrets, why couldn't we take photographs
for the folks back home. His answer was interesting, "We want to respect the
feelings of the workers on the floor who might feel uneasy about having their
picture constantly taken by strangers." At first I was skeptical of his
response. But, the more I thought about it, the more I thought how I would
feel about constantly having gawking strangers taking photographs of me as if I
was an animal in a glass cage; the more I saw how respectful Mr. Yip was of his
workers feelings, and the more I respected Mr. Yip. Feelings. Respect. Worth.
Dairy, if I remember my Carl Jung, he once said something to the effect
that what irritates us about others, about others that "makes me....," tells us
everything about ourselves and nothing about others, and with some strength and
courage can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. And, now that I think
about it, I think the spark of that irritation, and the root of something that
is often far more than mere annoyance, is the danger and threat of feeling
worthless, demeaned, devalued, diminished, dehumanized by others.
Mr. Yip hit upon something in his plant that is the most insidious and
least acknowledged issues on our campuses. We talk about the mechanics of an
academic production line: scholarship, research, tenure, promotion, student
load, class size, lectures, tests, grades, GPAs, evaluations, syllabi, awards,
scholarships, and a host of other trappings. We don't talk about the "people
things," about both our and the students' struggle to feel appreciated, worthy
of notice, valued, believed in, hoped about, loved. Most students are
expected to check their feelings at the door when they come to class. We
academics are expected, as one professor once told me, to keep our dirty
laundry out of the classroom. It's that unreasonable and non-human "being
objective" thing. And, too many, far too many believe they and we can be that
dehumanizingly robotic. But, try as they might, students can't. Just make a
trusting and caring relationship with them, have them journal, and you'll see
as do I. Heck, try as we might, we can't. How we're feeling — and most
especially whether or not we feel acknowledged and appreciated — influences our
behavior, consumes our energy, and affects our decisions all day long, whether
we're aware of it or not. The students' core emotional needs, our core
emotional need, is to feel valued. Without that stabling sense of worth, they
and we don't know who they and we are, and both they and we don't feel safe.
The latest neuroscience tells us that the need to be valued, to feel
secure, is primal and a matter of survival. It's about relationships, trusting
and loving and supportive and encouraging connections. Students all crave
being valued to such a degree they will risk everything to attain and maintain
it: test scores, course grades, GPAs, self-respect, self-esteem,
self-confidence. Why do we think that students give priority to joining
sororities and fraternities, to belonging to sports teams or theater troupes or
bands and symphonies; and, yes, even to partying, to hooking up, to having
boyfriends or girlfriends, to fearing breaking up and being "single." I will
go out on a limb and say, to feel valued, to feel valuable, to be seen, to be
heard, to be needed, to be loved, to be believed in, to have hope for, is all
that matters. It is almost as necessary as our need for food. We all, degrees
and titles and resumes not withstanding, have this need of food for our souls
as well as food for our tummies. The more anyone's value is threatened, the
more preoccupied that person becomes with seeking it, defending it, regaining
it. The problem is that in doing so that person too often goes along to get
along, sacrifices self-respect, surrenders independence to that "what will they
think" thing, and lessens the value of him/herself and her/his capability of
doing something significant in this world.
How many students, how many of us, connect the dots between being
valued and performance, be it in the form tests, grades, GPAs, tenure,
promotion, title, or length of resumes? It's the rare student or faculty
member or administrator who does. I submit that it's not an either/or
situation. It's an "and." We can be demanding or tough with academic
requirements and performance while being tender with people. It's what I and
others call "tough love." And, the more tender we are, the more empathetic we
are, the greater the possibility of achievement. Great teachers, great
leaders, top-notch executives are empathic; they're sensitive to the deep need
to feel valued in others for one reason and one reason only: they first
recognize and accept the same need in themselves. They don't hold on to or
elevate their own value by stepping over the bodies of others, by attacking the
value of others; they don't depend on others for their own sense of value,
even when they're are ignored or attacked or deeply criticized. No, they have
amassed an arsenal gathered by the answers to three questions. First, why do I
feel my personhood or professional-hood is at stake; second, is it really at
stake; and finally, how do I forge an armor to protect my value without
demeaning or attacking the very person or persons I feel are trying to drag me
down.
Our challenge is not to be a helpless victim, but to take matters into
your own hands, to always to have core sense of value in spite of what anyone
else says, to empathize with ourselves, to have a compassion for ourselves.
After all, we trigger ourselves; we interpret the words and behavior of others;
we choose how to feel about all that. As we can assume the responsibility for
our own worth rather than blame others for feeling worthless, we'll value
others, have an empathy for others, and have compassion for others. And, they
will have a shot at accomplishing more. Enough for now. More later, diary.
Now, it's back to the journals.
Make it a good day.
-Louis-
Louis Schmier
http://www.therandomthoughts.edublogs.org
Department of History http://www.therandomthoughts.com
Valdosta State University
Valdosta, Georgia 31698 /\ /\ /\ /\
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(O) 229-333-5947 /^\\/ \/ \ /\/\__ / \ /
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(C) 229-630-0821 / \/ \_ \/ / \/ /\/ / \
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mountains,\ /\
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hills" - / \_
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