I'm starting to put on my game face for the Lily-South Conference on Collegiate 
Teaching later this week.  Getting in the groove for my presentation on 
creating a motivating classroom environment, psyching myself, starting to go 
deep, I can't help but come back to "HI."  And, as I do, another story comes to 
me:

A wise, but poor and unknown rabbi who often travelled on foot to a certain 
city where, looked down upon and shunned by the wealthy community leaders, the 
only person who would offer him food and lodging was a poor Jewish tailor who 
lived in the poor section of town.  As the years passed, the rabbi became 
famous.  He came to the same city riding in a regal horse-drawn carriage.  This 
time the wealthy head of the Jewish community sent a message, inviting him to 
stay in his palatial home.  The rabbi gratefully accepted the invitation, but 
he sent his horses to the house of the wealthy man, while he himself went 
directly to the poor home of his old host.  When the rich man expressed his 
shock, the rabbi explained, "When I came to this town on foot, wearing rags, 
you didn't think of inviting me to your home.  Now, when I am famous, arriving 
in style with a four-horse carriage, you invite me.  I am still the same 
person.  So, you must really be respecting the beautiful four horses instead of 
me, and that's why it is the horses who should go to your home and be welcomed 
as your honored guests."

So, I ask, like the wealthy community leader, how many academics are in a state 
of "thingification?"  How many are mesmerized by, devote their attention to, 
and offer their hospitality selectively to the high GPA or honors or major or 
research.  How many disparage, shun, don't notice, and don't welcome the low 
GPA, the "average," "challenging," "special needs," "poor," the undeclared?  
Yet, to paraphrase Lincoln, God must have liked the "common" student because he 
made so many of them.  Maybe we should think about that, if for no other 
reasons than recruiting students to our campuses, or wanting or needing to 
retain students ,or having to improve graduation rates, or being at 
institutions that are tuition dependent, you better establish a "sticky" 
academic brand loyalty with a continuing and campus-wide "Glad you're here" and 
 "How can I help you on your journey" caring friendliness, supporting and 
encouraging assistance,  and faithful service.

We should learn from Abraham.  Now, picture him, for he offers us shining 
lessons in "Hospitality 101."  When those strangers appeared at his tent, he 
didn't first size them up.  He didn't lay down any conditions.  He had no idea 
who they were.  He didn't know anything about them.  And, it didn't matter to 
him.  He greeted the strangers, as we should greet each and every student every 
day, unconditionally as if each was an angel.  No sense of inconvenience.  No 
annoyed belief of wasting time.  No feeling of being put out.   He wasn't 
passive in his hospitality.  He didn't lounge around, idly smoking a hookah, 
looking up at the arriving strangers with a blasé  "What do you want" look, put 
a perfunctory smile, and wait for them to make the first step.  When he saw 
them, he didn't reluctantly arise, painfully trod over to them with an annoyed, 
"not a again," a sighing "ho-hum, let's get this over with" slouching.  Look at 
what he did.  When he saw the strangers, he took the initiative; he excitedly 
jumped up, rushed out to greet them; he bowed before them, embraced and grabbed 
them, and welcomed them into his tent.

There was nothing passive about his hospitality.  He was an elated "wow" 
incarnate.  He "hastens;" he "runs;" he instructs Sarah to "quickly."  He 
washes their feet, gets the best cut of meat, has Sarah bake fresh bread, and 
he waits on them.  And, in furtively moving about, he revealed about what he 
was deeply passionate and what tapped his heart.  There was no sense of it 
being troublesome inconvenience, demanding sacrifice, heavy burden, or odious 
obligation.    His efforts felt valuable and meaningful.  His passionate 
greeting revealed the most authentic image of his "inner Abraham."  It brought 
out the truth in him.  He revealed his true welcoming spirit, his commitment to 
welcoming; he shows his guest great respect and humility; he shows love. There 
was nothing obligatory, nothing chore-like, nothing burdensome, nothing merely 
compliant, nothing insincere in anything he said or did.   He went out of his 
way, beyond the call of duty, to do everything he could to help them.  Because 
Abraham felt that breaking bread with them was a joyous privilege, the 
strangers lost their "stranger-ness" and felt safely at home.

Yeah, it's "HI 101" and his attitude is worth learning about and emulating even 
if it is both hard to learn and harder to practice: caring, welcoming, 
respecting, dignifying, valuing, encouraging, supporting, nourishing, 
strengthening, sharing, serving.  His hospitality had all the qualities of 
unconditional sincerity, displayed without any hint of reservation, hesitation, 
or equivocation.  I have found that hospitality is like a psychological and 
social gravitational force that draws people together.  When I greeted each 
students at the classroom door during those first minutes of the semester, they 
lit up as the strangers must have felt when Abraham greeted them.  And, as we 
did a series of "getting to know ya" exercises, and as I continued to both 
literally and figuratively shake their hands throughout the semester, it was 
easy to see how barriers were slowly broken, bridges were slowly built, and 
supporting and encouraging community was slowly created.  As students lost 
their "alone-ness" and "lonliness," as they became "friends," the class felt 
more and more like a comforting, supporting, encouraging, and nourishing place. 
  And, as that happened, it becomes a more relaxed, safer, accommodating, and 
more productive place.

How do you think the strangers would have felt if Abraham had turned them away 
to face the unforgiving desert in their weakened state, if he had demonstrated 
that they were not welcomed, not wanted, not valued, not respected?   How 
important and worthy do you think students would feel if they experienced the 
same sorts of disconnecting rejections in our classes?  How do you think 
Abraham would have felt had he turned the strangers away with a snarling face 
rather than a warm smile?  So, how do you feel when you must accept into your 
academic midst all those "they're letting everyone in," "students nowadays 
don't," "students today can't," "I don't have the time for them" in the name of 
recruitment, retention, graduation rates, and tuition dependency when you 
really would like to cut them out from the herd?

Who are you, then, to the students?  Does your perception prejudice  that 
"they're letting anyone in" attitude turn you off so that you turn students 
away?  Does your conception bias that "students don't" mean you don't?  Does 
your "students can't" prevent a welcoming embrace?  Does your "busy-ness" get 
in way of lending a hand?   Does your "student's won't" translate into your 
"won't?"  What do you think as you think of students as an encroachment on your 
push for tenure or promotion?  Do you crack a forced smile, but leave the 
students as strangers?  Does your one day of band-wagon ice breaker followed by 
business-as-usual make leave students cold and distant?  Whom do you see when 
you walk the campus, stroll down the halls, enter the classroom?  Do you hear 
those angels proclaiming, "Make way, make way, make way for someone created in 
the image of God?"  Those are important questions, for way you view the 
students no less than the way Abraham viewed the strangers, is the way you will 
interact with them.  See obstacles instead opportunities, problems instead of 
possibilities, limits instead of potential, that's what you'll get.

  On the other hand, if you see opportunities instead of obstacles, 
possibilities instead of problems, potential instead of limits, that's what 
you'll get.  Who are you, then, to the students?  Are you warm and welcoming?   
To be hospitable, you don't just learn their names or do a one day of 
ice-breakers and then back off; you have to have the servant's attitude--every 
day.  Do you stand ready, waiting, and willing to serve each student?  Do you 
see being hospitable to each student as a personal moral responsibility?  Do 
you treat each student as a guest of honor?  Are you aware of and sensitive to 
their stories?  Do you really know where each is on the road in life?  Do you, 
like Abraham, prepare and energize the students for what is to come outside the 
tent?

Forget about recruiting, retention, and graduation rates.  Think about you.  
When you see the worst in students, it brings out the worst in you.  But, when 
you see the best in students, it brings out the best in you.    If you look at 
each of them with love, if you see the uniqueness in each of them; if you see 
beauty, richness, potential, and possibility, if you act kindly towards each of 
them, I guarantee you'll be joyful and fulfilled.  Teaching will unfold as you 
expect it.  Treasure each student, value each student, love each student, 
whatever the circumstances, and teaching will be a valuable, loving treasure.  
Sounds sermon-ish, I know.  But, it's true.

And think of your choices.  To moan and groan, to be angry and cynical, to be 
resigned and annoyed, to feel put upon, to grouse and growl?  Why?  That's a 
miserable existence.  Why would you want to imagine the worst of any situation 
when you can imagine the best?  Personally, I'd rather soar than crash.  I 
prefer to lift myself up rather than tear myself down.  I'd rather race than 
idle.  I'd rather devote my energy to making that enlightening light brighter 
rather than darkening the dark even darker.

Make it a good day

-Louis-


Louis Schmier                          http://www.therandomthoughts.edublogs.org
203 E. Brookwood Pl                         http://www.therandomthoughts.com
Valdosta, Ga 31602
(C)  229-630-0821                             /\   /\  /\                 /\    
 /\
                                                       /^\\/  \/   \   /\/\__   
/   \  /   \
                                                      /     \/   \_ \/ /   \/ 
/\/  /  \    /\  \
                                                    //\/\/ /\    \__/__/_/\_\/  
  \_/__\  \
                                              /\"If you want to climb 
mountains,\ /\
                                          _ /  \    don't practice on mole 
hills" - /   \_










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