It happened at horse camp last week. I was idly leaning on the white
corral fence watching my three out-of-town grandmunchkins riding. A young lady
came over to me. She introduced himself. Let's call her Rogette. She
extended her hand. With a tear in her eye, she held mine tightly with both
hands, in a way obviously that was more than a polite greeting. "This
should've been done years ago," she said. It was fifteen years ago that she
was a freshman in the American history survey class. We talked. I honestly
don't remember her. Nevertheless, slowly her words threw me into a stunned
daze, and I got a tear in my eye.
As I drove home, while the grandmunchkins chattered, I was
uncharacteristically silent, in my own world, struggling to keep Rogette's
words vividly in my heart and mind, finally dictating bits and pieces into my
iPhone. As soon as we got home, I went to computer to read a message from a
mid-west professor that I read as soon as we got home. They were in stark
contrast to Rogette's: "Louis, how do you do it. Why do you do it. How can
you be so upbeat about them? Yes, I care, but I just don't have time for these
impossible students who don't belong here. I've got better things to do with
my time."
"I've got better things to do with my time." I wish I could bring
more eyes and ears on that last sentence. Better things to do? What can you
do with your time that's better than caringly help and serve those who need
caring help the most? Earlier, I tried to start up a conversation with her,
but she wouldn't have it. If she had, my current response would have been one
word: "Rogette." Actually, more than that.
Now, if this professor really wanted an answer, I would have merely
transmitted some of Rogette's recorded words: "....I was told by a professor
that maybe I didn't belong at VSU. She said I 'd be better off at Wire Grass
(a local technical school) becoming a technician in something. You never said
that or more importantly you never once showed that you felt that way....It was
terrified of challenge. I shied away from change....I wanted to stay in the
shadows....I felt ugly while you saw beauty...You drew me out and in....The
faith, hope, and love I felt you had for me that I didn't then, wow!....You
went beyond the shallows of only knowing my name; you went deep to get to know
me--and each of us--as a person....I felt so special in your class that I
couldn't wait to get there....Your words and actions said I could trust
you....Those journals, you learned my story through the journals. They opened
a lot up....You helped me see myself as I could be... You were to me more than
a professor to earn a grade; I felt that you were someone I could talk to,
almost a friend....From all that, I learned that I could be imaginative and
creative; I learned how to learn; I learned to take risks; I learned not to be
afraid to make mistakes and to learn from those mistakes...I use those lessons
in everything and am passing them on to my children...."
Rogette taught me something. That professor would have missed Rogette.
Her repellent "inattention span" would have made her deaf and blind to
Rogette's potential. A focused, what I call an "absorption span," however,
would have done the exact opposite. Only by having a good "absorption span"
can you promise yourself that you will make the most of every priceless
classroom moment, that you will see the value and beauty in each person in that
classroom, that you will be filled with joy and enthusiasm, that you will be
attentive and alert, that you will be kind and respectful, that you will
practice a serving otherness, that you will be mindful, that you will be
meaningful and purposeful in the classroom, that you will be truly faithful,
hopeful, and loving in an honest and effective way, that you will believe you
can make a real positive difference, and that you will refuse to waste your
time on useless "ah, me" self-pity, anger, frustration, worry, and resentment.
It is during a deep and prolonged "absorption span," that we learn
about and take in each student's complex, distinctive narrative. I may be
wrong, but I didn't feel a happiness in that professor's words. Yet, I think
all of us know we are happiest when we have a good "absorption span," when we
soak something in, when we forget ourselves, when we forget the time, when we
lose ourselves in whatever it is we're doing, when we have an encounter with
something we love. That "absorption span" helps us practice the art of knowing
what to overlook, of ignoring restricting expectations, perceptions,
stereotypes, and generalities. It allows us to just focus in on the real and
unique person in front of us. Rogette reinforced my belief and when you are
absorbed in each student, when you teach with unconditional, involved,
energetic, faithful, hopeful, and loving determination so many impossible
things, like her, seem and are possible.
One more thing. "Inattention span" or "absorption span" is a choice.
Neither is found in a set of circumstances; each is a choice of how to deal
with existing circumstances. I mean, how can this professor be happy when she
sounds like academia is crashing around her. I mean, she may not be happy that
her students aren't avid "mini-professors," but, hard or easy, she can be
gratefully happy that she has a chance to make a difference with the Rogettes
in her class. It's really that simply a matter of attitude. Some might say
that is being naive, but Rogette shows what when you don't have "if only"
conditions, when you don't have any holding back perceptions, you discover
you're being pushed forward by a powerful, joyful, meaningful, purposeful, and
contagious state of heart and mind.
A peaceful wave came over me during that thirty minute drive back to
the house. I still feel it. It feels gratifying to be on the side of the
possible; it is a whole lot more refreshing; it is a whole lot more fulfilling;
it is a whole lot more peaceful; it is a whole lot happier. It just feels
doggone good knowing you've done a good, and it continues lives on beyond me.
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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