The three posts below this explanation were copied from a different personal blog, and all pasted on this one on Aug. 23rd. If they seem to presume too much given information, it would be because other posts on the different blog would have informed their composition. That's also why there would appear to be a sudden burst of prolific thoughts on the 23rd. :)
This blog will continue to be more regularly updated throughout the year, with thoughts and impressions stemming from classroom experience, and grad school curriculum.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Placement!!
Written Aug. 20th, 2008
Yesterday I met the woman who is going to mentor me as her student teacher for this entire school year. I'd been praying about this, because my school/mentor placement will not only hugely affect my grad school education, it will also likely play a major part in where I get hired in the future. Two possible placements had already fallen through, and I was starting to feel seriously concerned. Most teachers, after all, are going back to school this week or next-- who was I going to be tagging along with??
The first teacher I'd been possibly placed with was an impressive teacher-- I watched one of her classes, and she had a great rapport with her students, and they were demonstrating great writing. But the school's theatre program had recently been cut altogether-- a big concern for a grad student hoping to get endorsed in both English and Drama. Although the teacher told me that I could assist one of their guest directors on a production, she said, "Do it at your own risk-- because we'll have our hands full with our English classes." The school would have also entailed a huge commute, and its student population was largely upper-middle class. Not totally the demographic I was hoping for... I want to teach lower-income students in the future, so I wanted to be in a situation that would teach me how to DO that.
I went back to the lady who coordinates placements. "Is there any way we could try to find me a school that has English AND Theatre classes I could observe...?" Ideally, I was hoping to be paired with a teacher that balanced both subjects, so that I could learn how to time-manage between those two very time-consuming subjects. But really, I'd be happy to just be IN a school with a theatre program.
A possible break seemed to present itself: one of my fellow teaching interns is currently the Performing Arts Director at his large, highly-esteemed Seattle district high-school. He was going back to school for his Masters, but had worked professionally for years, and had taught at the college and high-school level. He wouldn't have been able to "officially" mentor me, since we were both in the program, but I could OBSERVE his awesome classes... And in the meantime, I could be mentored by an English teacher down the hall. Additionally, this school has an incredibly diverse student body-- literally, any type of student I would ever expect to teach would be here. Talk about a learning opportunity! My intern friend and I got really excited about this prospect, and he talked to his principal, and I emailed the placement lady at my University. She came back to me with a pessimistic outlook: my cousins go to this high-school, and teaching in a school with 'relatives' is against University policy. This high-school is also apparently really hard to get into, and she guessed that they had already reached their "intern" quota for the year. "Don't get your hopes up," she said. Crap.
Monday arrived, August 18th, and I still had no idea where I'd be teaching for this year.
Then the placement lady emailed me. "I think I have what could be an excellent placement for you," she began...
And did.
She.
EVER.
This lady, Viola, is a high-school English teacher who also teaches the winter Musical Theatre class: a teacher that teaches both subjects! The school is a small alternative public school that focuses on incorporating a great deal of the arts and social justice themes into its curriculum. Did I MENTION that I went to a small alternative public school that focused on combining arts with academics and world-related themes?? This school is basically the Seattle version of MY high-school, which I LOVED. Viola also mentioned that she had just finished taking a workshop at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and would love to work with an intern that was interested in Shakespeare.
Fact: I am a Shakespeare GEEK. Like... major, MAAAAJOR geek. AND, when I was in high-school, our theatre classes went on yearly field trips to that same Shakespeare festival. What. I get to nerd-out with with my mentor teacher about Iambic Pentameter!!
AND, this woman has an extensive dance back-ground (she teaches a Fall elective on the Lindy-Hop, which I get to take too. Seriously??). Fact: I took ballet for ten years, jazz for five, modern for three, and tap for one. I LOVE DANCING.
ANNND, as we were going over the curriculum, she said that we would be working with the Social Studies classes on covering similar time periods and historical movements. This is exactly the type of thing I want to do as a teacher: open up literature to broader relevance and show kids how it connects to other elements of their world. She spoke about how important it was to her to teach in a way that helped students relate to it personally.
THATISTOTALLYWHATIWANTTODO!!!
She mentioned at one point during our coffee date: "Something you should probably know is that we'll have a lot of low income kids. We're about 60% free-and-reduced lunch." She looked at me like, "How will you do with that?" I looked back at her like, "Are you seriously saying this right now?"
I'll be teaching the kids I want to teach.
She said, "I give the students a tough curriculum, because I want them to believe that they can do it. I tell them, 'My daughter went to a private school, but I don't believe you should have to pay all that money to get a good education. You're going to be able to get that right here.' That makes them sit up straighter." That's what she tells them. That's what she teaches them. That's what...I...want...to...GAH! (Spazzing with excitement.)
We'll be covering the Middle-East, Asia, and then Africa in our curriculum. By the time we get to Africa, I'll be doing the majority of the teaching, and guess what we're reading? Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. Viola was thrilled to hear that I'd been to Africa. "You can use that in your teaching!" I'll get to revisit that transforming time in my life: I get to teach about Africa. She said, "Ooo, let's see if we can get someone to come in and teach them African dance!" Cool!!
Oh, and did I mention the school is like, three miles away?
I feel like this spot was created JUST for me. It is exactly, and everything that I want to do, and I loved meeting with Viola: she's going to be so much fun to work with. She's creative, and spunky, and energetic, and open. Praise the Lord-- what a gift, you know??
I "go back to school" on Tuesday!!!
Yesterday I met the woman who is going to mentor me as her student teacher for this entire school year. I'd been praying about this, because my school/mentor placement will not only hugely affect my grad school education, it will also likely play a major part in where I get hired in the future. Two possible placements had already fallen through, and I was starting to feel seriously concerned. Most teachers, after all, are going back to school this week or next-- who was I going to be tagging along with??
The first teacher I'd been possibly placed with was an impressive teacher-- I watched one of her classes, and she had a great rapport with her students, and they were demonstrating great writing. But the school's theatre program had recently been cut altogether-- a big concern for a grad student hoping to get endorsed in both English and Drama. Although the teacher told me that I could assist one of their guest directors on a production, she said, "Do it at your own risk-- because we'll have our hands full with our English classes." The school would have also entailed a huge commute, and its student population was largely upper-middle class. Not totally the demographic I was hoping for... I want to teach lower-income students in the future, so I wanted to be in a situation that would teach me how to DO that.
I went back to the lady who coordinates placements. "Is there any way we could try to find me a school that has English AND Theatre classes I could observe...?" Ideally, I was hoping to be paired with a teacher that balanced both subjects, so that I could learn how to time-manage between those two very time-consuming subjects. But really, I'd be happy to just be IN a school with a theatre program.
A possible break seemed to present itself: one of my fellow teaching interns is currently the Performing Arts Director at his large, highly-esteemed Seattle district high-school. He was going back to school for his Masters, but had worked professionally for years, and had taught at the college and high-school level. He wouldn't have been able to "officially" mentor me, since we were both in the program, but I could OBSERVE his awesome classes... And in the meantime, I could be mentored by an English teacher down the hall. Additionally, this school has an incredibly diverse student body-- literally, any type of student I would ever expect to teach would be here. Talk about a learning opportunity! My intern friend and I got really excited about this prospect, and he talked to his principal, and I emailed the placement lady at my University. She came back to me with a pessimistic outlook: my cousins go to this high-school, and teaching in a school with 'relatives' is against University policy. This high-school is also apparently really hard to get into, and she guessed that they had already reached their "intern" quota for the year. "Don't get your hopes up," she said. Crap.
Monday arrived, August 18th, and I still had no idea where I'd be teaching for this year.
Then the placement lady emailed me. "I think I have what could be an excellent placement for you," she began...
And did.
She.
EVER.
This lady, Viola, is a high-school English teacher who also teaches the winter Musical Theatre class: a teacher that teaches both subjects! The school is a small alternative public school that focuses on incorporating a great deal of the arts and social justice themes into its curriculum. Did I MENTION that I went to a small alternative public school that focused on combining arts with academics and world-related themes?? This school is basically the Seattle version of MY high-school, which I LOVED. Viola also mentioned that she had just finished taking a workshop at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and would love to work with an intern that was interested in Shakespeare.
Fact: I am a Shakespeare GEEK. Like... major, MAAAAJOR geek. AND, when I was in high-school, our theatre classes went on yearly field trips to that same Shakespeare festival. What. I get to nerd-out with with my mentor teacher about Iambic Pentameter!!
AND, this woman has an extensive dance back-ground (she teaches a Fall elective on the Lindy-Hop, which I get to take too. Seriously??). Fact: I took ballet for ten years, jazz for five, modern for three, and tap for one. I LOVE DANCING.
ANNND, as we were going over the curriculum, she said that we would be working with the Social Studies classes on covering similar time periods and historical movements. This is exactly the type of thing I want to do as a teacher: open up literature to broader relevance and show kids how it connects to other elements of their world. She spoke about how important it was to her to teach in a way that helped students relate to it personally.
THATISTOTALLYWHATIWANTTODO!!!
She mentioned at one point during our coffee date: "Something you should probably know is that we'll have a lot of low income kids. We're about 60% free-and-reduced lunch." She looked at me like, "How will you do with that?" I looked back at her like, "Are you seriously saying this right now?"
I'll be teaching the kids I want to teach.
She said, "I give the students a tough curriculum, because I want them to believe that they can do it. I tell them, 'My daughter went to a private school, but I don't believe you should have to pay all that money to get a good education. You're going to be able to get that right here.' That makes them sit up straighter." That's what she tells them. That's what she teaches them. That's what...I...want...to...GAH! (Spazzing with excitement.)
We'll be covering the Middle-East, Asia, and then Africa in our curriculum. By the time we get to Africa, I'll be doing the majority of the teaching, and guess what we're reading? Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. Viola was thrilled to hear that I'd been to Africa. "You can use that in your teaching!" I'll get to revisit that transforming time in my life: I get to teach about Africa. She said, "Ooo, let's see if we can get someone to come in and teach them African dance!" Cool!!
Oh, and did I mention the school is like, three miles away?
I feel like this spot was created JUST for me. It is exactly, and everything that I want to do, and I loved meeting with Viola: she's going to be so much fun to work with. She's creative, and spunky, and energetic, and open. Praise the Lord-- what a gift, you know??
I "go back to school" on Tuesday!!!
Climbing Out of the Skin
Written Aug. 14th, 2008
In the last several days, I have had at least five different conversations with five different people about fearing the beast that is failure. That was topped off by an article I read in the paper this morning about the Chinese's take on winning medals at the Olympics. Look at this snippet:
"China has staked its honor on these Games. It seems as if so much of its self-esteem is tied up in gold. Not silver. Not bronze.
Just gold.
The Chinese government will pay its athletes bonuses for gold medals. It has been reported that gold-medal winners on the table-tennis team will make $25,000 in bonuses.
...It's now a world where silver is considered failure.
Chinese swimmer Zhang Li won a silver earlier this week in an impressive race in the 400-meter freestyle, but reacted without joy. He never smiled during the medal ceremony. And when the winner, Korean Taehwan Park, pulled him into the pictures that the photographers demanded after the medal ceremony, Zhang sadly stared at their lenses with his disappointment.
Silver doesn't spend."
What is going on here? What is this world that we have arrived at, where a Silver Olympic Medal equates, as Iceman would put it, "A plaque in the ladies' room"?
In one of the books we're reading for grad school, there's a chapter about helping your students develop a healthy self-concept. The chapter talked about how, in our society, we have become increasingly award-focused, looking to all kinds of external evidence to prove our merit as students, and beyond that as human beings. We win with trophies, we succeed with A's, we flex with fancy career titles. Would anyone disagree that the standard measure of American success is judged by education level, job title, economic status, the appearance of family cohesiveness, and good looks? I mean... that sums it up, doesn't it? You give someone a quick once-over: yeah. They look good. They look successful.
The problem is, our happiness as a country has been shown to plummet since the 1950's--starting with Eisenhower's push to increase consumerism as a National value. It began as an effort to boost the economy after World War II, but the unstoppable progression of this national materialistic philosophy has damaged us in all kinds of ways.
We equate value with stuff. We define success with trophies. We need approval to be happy.
And Silver doesn't cut it.
This grad school book's implied answer to all that-- well, some of that-- was to develop an individually healthy self-concept-- an understanding of yourself that remains positive outside of what others think of you. The chapter warned against us only rewarding students with tangible trophies and compliments-- if they're never discovering the worth of what they're doing on their OWN-- will they ever? It talked about developing an intrinsic motivation in these students where, even if the possibility of a reward is taken away, the student is still motivated to learn and try.
In this context, mistakes are okay because you can learn from them.
Achieving a personal best is better than getting the best grade in the class.
The process is more important than the end result.
You can be imperfect and still be acceptable.
You can be imperfect and still be acceptable.
This last bit-- the desire to be perfect-- screws us up in all KINDS of ways I'm realizing. Women run into this all the time-- bodily dissatisfaction among females is considered a "normative condition" among psychologists. (I can't link to that one because I read that fact in a psychological study and I can't remember what study it was.) We generally process something along the lines of the following check-list: Is our hair thick enough? Are our eyes big enough? Are our lashes long enough? Are we thin enough? Are our legs long enough? How are our ankles? How are our toes? How toned are our stomachs? Are our boobs the right size? Is our hair the right color? Are our hands the right size? Are our noses shaped right?
If the answer to any one of those questions is a negative one, we have WORK to do. And the cosmetics industry has every product imaginable to help us fix it. Because: we need to be perfect.
The expectation for perfection is HUGE in relationships as well. We want happily ever after, and soul mates. We want to find The One, and we expect that once we do, we'll be complete. We grow up on this, but what honest relationship lives up to it? What kind of human can live up to it? If we try, the expectation eventually crushes us.
Say you have a dude that wants approval; that wants to be loved. Say he tries to be a hero and earn it.
Then say you have a girl who's been hurt and wants safety. Say she wants a rescuer.
Say the dude finds the girl, and she needs him. He rescues her, and she gives him approval. Two incomplete people almost-- almost-- can provide the other with what they need.
Then say the girl grows into herself; she becomes stronger, she becomes confident.
Say the guy isn't feeling that heroism anymore, and has lost out on his daily dose of approval.
Say the guy makes mistakes, like forgetting to pay the bills one month. Say he feels pressure from the girl to not let her down.
Say that they begin hiding things from each other, because they can't be perfect, and so the pretense grows and grows until it crushes them.
We can't be perfect. We can't get everything we need from each other.
And if we can't, then we will always fail at some point. And what's worse, we will inevitably let someone down.
But where does that leave us? Our culture is not a culture that accepts failure gracefully. True, we may still congratulate our athletes for getting Silver medals, but I would say that, overall, our national attitude is geared towards perfection.
So how do we handle that then? Does it start with having a self-concept that is tied to something other than external rewards, than human approval?
This is the picture in my head. I picture myself in these shadows with this skin on, and the skin wants rewards I can show people, that wants approval, that wants another human being to complete me, and that wants to complete another human being. And I picture myself wriggling out of that skin like it's a clingy, damp wet suit. And once I finally get done wriggling, and pulling, and hopping around until I'm out of it,
I step into a lit pool of grace.
I am alone, and bare, and shivering, and I am human. Every single one of my flaws is lit up in that pool. But as soon as they're brought to light, they begin to fade.
I am whole there. I am shown absolute approval for that trembling self. The skin is tossed away, and I am literally washed clean.
I really think this is the only way to get out of it. I think it's the only way to be content, to feel whole, to be okay with being imperfect. I know it has a lot to do with psychology too-- with getting to the place where you can acknowledge the merit of the journey even if it doesn't reap a reward. But even then, understanding your wholeness first is necessary-- if you're whole OUTSIDE that reward, you can see how great the journey was. If you're not whole without the reward, then the journey was worthless.
And being out of that skin means we can be in relationships with one another as people. As just people. I started writing a song once, that tried to get at this idea. The chorus goes:
It's just women and men trying here,
And none of us whole:
We're either dangerous pretense,
Or scared naked souls.
I'm not enough to complete you,
But I'll do what I can
To give you the best of my heart
With a steady hand.
I want to be a teacher that allows mistakes, and encourages the process, and loves students for their hearts and effort, not just their accomplishments. I want to be a girlfriend, and eventually a wife that is open about my weaknesses, and who sees my partner as simply a man, as-- I hope-- an HONEST man. I want to be a human that is whole not because of what I do, or who I am, but because I am loved by a Savior that took care of the perfection part already.
That is the self I want to live in.
In the last several days, I have had at least five different conversations with five different people about fearing the beast that is failure. That was topped off by an article I read in the paper this morning about the Chinese's take on winning medals at the Olympics. Look at this snippet:
"China has staked its honor on these Games. It seems as if so much of its self-esteem is tied up in gold. Not silver. Not bronze.
Just gold.
The Chinese government will pay its athletes bonuses for gold medals. It has been reported that gold-medal winners on the table-tennis team will make $25,000 in bonuses.
...It's now a world where silver is considered failure.
Chinese swimmer Zhang Li won a silver earlier this week in an impressive race in the 400-meter freestyle, but reacted without joy. He never smiled during the medal ceremony. And when the winner, Korean Taehwan Park, pulled him into the pictures that the photographers demanded after the medal ceremony, Zhang sadly stared at their lenses with his disappointment.
Silver doesn't spend."
What is going on here? What is this world that we have arrived at, where a Silver Olympic Medal equates, as Iceman would put it, "A plaque in the ladies' room"?
In one of the books we're reading for grad school, there's a chapter about helping your students develop a healthy self-concept. The chapter talked about how, in our society, we have become increasingly award-focused, looking to all kinds of external evidence to prove our merit as students, and beyond that as human beings. We win with trophies, we succeed with A's, we flex with fancy career titles. Would anyone disagree that the standard measure of American success is judged by education level, job title, economic status, the appearance of family cohesiveness, and good looks? I mean... that sums it up, doesn't it? You give someone a quick once-over: yeah. They look good. They look successful.
The problem is, our happiness as a country has been shown to plummet since the 1950's--starting with Eisenhower's push to increase consumerism as a National value. It began as an effort to boost the economy after World War II, but the unstoppable progression of this national materialistic philosophy has damaged us in all kinds of ways.
We equate value with stuff. We define success with trophies. We need approval to be happy.
And Silver doesn't cut it.
This grad school book's implied answer to all that-- well, some of that-- was to develop an individually healthy self-concept-- an understanding of yourself that remains positive outside of what others think of you. The chapter warned against us only rewarding students with tangible trophies and compliments-- if they're never discovering the worth of what they're doing on their OWN-- will they ever? It talked about developing an intrinsic motivation in these students where, even if the possibility of a reward is taken away, the student is still motivated to learn and try.
In this context, mistakes are okay because you can learn from them.
Achieving a personal best is better than getting the best grade in the class.
The process is more important than the end result.
You can be imperfect and still be acceptable.
You can be imperfect and still be acceptable.
This last bit-- the desire to be perfect-- screws us up in all KINDS of ways I'm realizing. Women run into this all the time-- bodily dissatisfaction among females is considered a "normative condition" among psychologists. (I can't link to that one because I read that fact in a psychological study and I can't remember what study it was.) We generally process something along the lines of the following check-list: Is our hair thick enough? Are our eyes big enough? Are our lashes long enough? Are we thin enough? Are our legs long enough? How are our ankles? How are our toes? How toned are our stomachs? Are our boobs the right size? Is our hair the right color? Are our hands the right size? Are our noses shaped right?
If the answer to any one of those questions is a negative one, we have WORK to do. And the cosmetics industry has every product imaginable to help us fix it. Because: we need to be perfect.
The expectation for perfection is HUGE in relationships as well. We want happily ever after, and soul mates. We want to find The One, and we expect that once we do, we'll be complete. We grow up on this, but what honest relationship lives up to it? What kind of human can live up to it? If we try, the expectation eventually crushes us.
Say you have a dude that wants approval; that wants to be loved. Say he tries to be a hero and earn it.
Then say you have a girl who's been hurt and wants safety. Say she wants a rescuer.
Say the dude finds the girl, and she needs him. He rescues her, and she gives him approval. Two incomplete people almost-- almost-- can provide the other with what they need.
Then say the girl grows into herself; she becomes stronger, she becomes confident.
Say the guy isn't feeling that heroism anymore, and has lost out on his daily dose of approval.
Say the guy makes mistakes, like forgetting to pay the bills one month. Say he feels pressure from the girl to not let her down.
Say that they begin hiding things from each other, because they can't be perfect, and so the pretense grows and grows until it crushes them.
We can't be perfect. We can't get everything we need from each other.
And if we can't, then we will always fail at some point. And what's worse, we will inevitably let someone down.
But where does that leave us? Our culture is not a culture that accepts failure gracefully. True, we may still congratulate our athletes for getting Silver medals, but I would say that, overall, our national attitude is geared towards perfection.
So how do we handle that then? Does it start with having a self-concept that is tied to something other than external rewards, than human approval?
This is the picture in my head. I picture myself in these shadows with this skin on, and the skin wants rewards I can show people, that wants approval, that wants another human being to complete me, and that wants to complete another human being. And I picture myself wriggling out of that skin like it's a clingy, damp wet suit. And once I finally get done wriggling, and pulling, and hopping around until I'm out of it,
I step into a lit pool of grace.
I am alone, and bare, and shivering, and I am human. Every single one of my flaws is lit up in that pool. But as soon as they're brought to light, they begin to fade.
I am whole there. I am shown absolute approval for that trembling self. The skin is tossed away, and I am literally washed clean.
I really think this is the only way to get out of it. I think it's the only way to be content, to feel whole, to be okay with being imperfect. I know it has a lot to do with psychology too-- with getting to the place where you can acknowledge the merit of the journey even if it doesn't reap a reward. But even then, understanding your wholeness first is necessary-- if you're whole OUTSIDE that reward, you can see how great the journey was. If you're not whole without the reward, then the journey was worthless.
And being out of that skin means we can be in relationships with one another as people. As just people. I started writing a song once, that tried to get at this idea. The chorus goes:
It's just women and men trying here,
And none of us whole:
We're either dangerous pretense,
Or scared naked souls.
I'm not enough to complete you,
But I'll do what I can
To give you the best of my heart
With a steady hand.
I want to be a teacher that allows mistakes, and encourages the process, and loves students for their hearts and effort, not just their accomplishments. I want to be a girlfriend, and eventually a wife that is open about my weaknesses, and who sees my partner as simply a man, as-- I hope-- an HONEST man. I want to be a human that is whole not because of what I do, or who I am, but because I am loved by a Savior that took care of the perfection part already.
That is the self I want to live in.
Perceptions
Written July 30th, 2008.
One of the books we’re reading in grad school right now is called, Love and Logic: Teaching in the Classroom. We read a chapter last night that dealt with perceptions— addressing our perceptions as teachers and also examining the perceptions that students may be coming in with. The book made the statement that there are essentially as many “world views” as there are people in it—that we form our perceptions based off our own unique life experiences, and those perceptions influence literally everything we take in, think about, process, and respond to.
So: Being the loser in 5th grade makes me empathize with 5th grade losers.
Reading storybooks with my Grandma in a mountain cabin in front of a fire made me love storybooks.
Having my parents build me up and tell me that I could do anything made me confident as a student, and encouraged me to give school a banner effort.
Climbing trees in my backyard with my siblings as a kid makes climbing trees as a 24-year-old feel safe and reassuring.
Etcetera.
This is why “the first cut is the deepest,” as Cat Stevens first pointed out. When people fall in love for the first time, their frame of reference-- their “field of understanding”-- does not yet include the vocabulary to articulate heartbreak, so they give their hearts over unreservedly. At least, I did. If and when that relationship ends… A person’s field of understanding has suddenly, brutally, expanded. Their perception of relationships and the opposite sex is suddenly influenced by this new wrenching experience. Going forward, you find those with perceptions influenced by one too many heartbreaks… And perceptions get jaded. Maybe cynical.
This is why Israelis and Palestines continue to fight, maybe. They have only grown up on their own side, and have only experienced a life where persecution came from the other side. Their separate perceptions do not harbor objectivity in the same way that a child growing up in Nebraska cannot harbor an idea of what the ocean looks like.
When Heidi and I were in Cork, Ireland, we ate breakfast in our hostel common room one morning, and there was a cartoon playing on the TV. The sound was off, but I was able to follow the story. There was an Evil Dude and, for some reason, he was bent on spreading hatred and discord. Evil Dude brainwashed a middle-aged-dad-looking-Home-Dude and turned him into an Evil Cupid. Dad-Looking-Home-Dude/Evil Cupid then flew around and shot arrows at people. Once hit with an arrow, the victim vehemently hated the next person he or she set eyes on, and the world started erupting in fights and road rage and arguments. When a person was hit with an arrow, the hit person’s eyes turned black. Their hearts turned off. They became cruel.
In one case, a handsome guy that had been previously depicted as very vain got hit with an arrow, and the next thing he saw was his face in a mirror. His eyes turned black, and he was suddenly horrified with his own appearance. He remained just as handsome, but he hated himself—he cringed in humiliation and embarrassment, and wore a paper bag over his head. He tried shaving off his hair, and just descended further into cringing self-loathing.
It was a scary cartoon.
Heidi and I left the hostel common room just as things were starting to turn around, so I know there was some remedy, some happy ending to the story… But the familiarity of those blackened eyes remained with me. We view the world, sometimes, through these blackened eyes. And what’s concerning is that, if our perceptions are being filtered through those eyes, we’re never going to be able to see anything that could change the black to a gentler color. Our world becomes warped through marred perception.
If we indulge in self-loathing, it’s hard to imagine how we could ever find ourselves valuable.
If we are “blinded by love,” we can’t imagine the possibility of fault in the object of our affection.
If we become jaded, it’s hard to imagine hope.
Our perceptions become our world—even if our world is completely different from the objective truth. Like Plato’s cave, if we’ve only ever seen shadows on the wall, we will never understand the concept of dancing bodies behind us.
I don't want to live in a warped universe. I need friends who will call me out, and re-inform my perceptions. I need, as a teacher, to make sure I understand the shape of my students’ worlds before I try to influence it with my own. I need to talk with people that have different opinions than me, and read books that volunteer ideas clashing with my own. I need to travel, and encounter perceptions that have been informed by completely different life experiences and cultures. I need to pray for eyes that see clearly. I need to pray for protection for my heart.
And, I think I could maybe use a good tree climb too. See the world from just a bit higher up.
One of the books we’re reading in grad school right now is called, Love and Logic: Teaching in the Classroom. We read a chapter last night that dealt with perceptions— addressing our perceptions as teachers and also examining the perceptions that students may be coming in with. The book made the statement that there are essentially as many “world views” as there are people in it—that we form our perceptions based off our own unique life experiences, and those perceptions influence literally everything we take in, think about, process, and respond to.
So: Being the loser in 5th grade makes me empathize with 5th grade losers.
Reading storybooks with my Grandma in a mountain cabin in front of a fire made me love storybooks.
Having my parents build me up and tell me that I could do anything made me confident as a student, and encouraged me to give school a banner effort.
Climbing trees in my backyard with my siblings as a kid makes climbing trees as a 24-year-old feel safe and reassuring.
Etcetera.
This is why “the first cut is the deepest,” as Cat Stevens first pointed out. When people fall in love for the first time, their frame of reference-- their “field of understanding”-- does not yet include the vocabulary to articulate heartbreak, so they give their hearts over unreservedly. At least, I did. If and when that relationship ends… A person’s field of understanding has suddenly, brutally, expanded. Their perception of relationships and the opposite sex is suddenly influenced by this new wrenching experience. Going forward, you find those with perceptions influenced by one too many heartbreaks… And perceptions get jaded. Maybe cynical.
This is why Israelis and Palestines continue to fight, maybe. They have only grown up on their own side, and have only experienced a life where persecution came from the other side. Their separate perceptions do not harbor objectivity in the same way that a child growing up in Nebraska cannot harbor an idea of what the ocean looks like.
When Heidi and I were in Cork, Ireland, we ate breakfast in our hostel common room one morning, and there was a cartoon playing on the TV. The sound was off, but I was able to follow the story. There was an Evil Dude and, for some reason, he was bent on spreading hatred and discord. Evil Dude brainwashed a middle-aged-dad-looking-Home-Dude and turned him into an Evil Cupid. Dad-Looking-Home-Dude/Evil Cupid then flew around and shot arrows at people. Once hit with an arrow, the victim vehemently hated the next person he or she set eyes on, and the world started erupting in fights and road rage and arguments. When a person was hit with an arrow, the hit person’s eyes turned black. Their hearts turned off. They became cruel.
In one case, a handsome guy that had been previously depicted as very vain got hit with an arrow, and the next thing he saw was his face in a mirror. His eyes turned black, and he was suddenly horrified with his own appearance. He remained just as handsome, but he hated himself—he cringed in humiliation and embarrassment, and wore a paper bag over his head. He tried shaving off his hair, and just descended further into cringing self-loathing.
It was a scary cartoon.
Heidi and I left the hostel common room just as things were starting to turn around, so I know there was some remedy, some happy ending to the story… But the familiarity of those blackened eyes remained with me. We view the world, sometimes, through these blackened eyes. And what’s concerning is that, if our perceptions are being filtered through those eyes, we’re never going to be able to see anything that could change the black to a gentler color. Our world becomes warped through marred perception.
If we indulge in self-loathing, it’s hard to imagine how we could ever find ourselves valuable.
If we are “blinded by love,” we can’t imagine the possibility of fault in the object of our affection.
If we become jaded, it’s hard to imagine hope.
Our perceptions become our world—even if our world is completely different from the objective truth. Like Plato’s cave, if we’ve only ever seen shadows on the wall, we will never understand the concept of dancing bodies behind us.
I don't want to live in a warped universe. I need friends who will call me out, and re-inform my perceptions. I need, as a teacher, to make sure I understand the shape of my students’ worlds before I try to influence it with my own. I need to talk with people that have different opinions than me, and read books that volunteer ideas clashing with my own. I need to travel, and encounter perceptions that have been informed by completely different life experiences and cultures. I need to pray for eyes that see clearly. I need to pray for protection for my heart.
And, I think I could maybe use a good tree climb too. See the world from just a bit higher up.
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