publicstand's Revelife

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 22:12:31 GMT

As a teacher I appreciate “authentic” assignments; learning that actually relates to something in the real world is the most meaningful kind we can ask our students to do. Of course, finding ways to make academia “real” can sometimes be difficult. Ironic huh? When’s the last time you wrote a 5-paragraph essay for your boss? Still, there’s the idea of “learning the rules, so you know how break them with style” (three cheers for Faulkner)!

Another thing I’m coming to love as a teacher are “management-like” questions, those that could be sarcastic, but the tone allows them to be sincere if the student isn’t taking advantage of you. For example, “Is something funny going on? I like to hear jokes too,” “(for late students) Glad you could make it today,” “I’ll wait until everyone’s quiet,” or “Did I do something to offend you today?” All of these statements depend on TONE/ teacher affect and rapport with students. The more time I have in the classroom, the more phrases I tend to discover in the moment --“Education is 20% planning and 80% improvisation” (maybe that’s why I love it so, the whole practice is AUTHENTIC in the sense of adapting, learning, researching, and practicing a mix of intuition and modeling after other experts.

I want to influence. I want to listen. I want to be there. I want to be engaged. I want to do my best. I want to be a cheerleader. I want to be approachable. I want to be a teacher… and while I follow these wants, I find that I already am…

YOU ARE WHAT YOU DO. Teaching then might be the most sincere label I have going on right now. Other labels, well, they might just be labels (if I’m not doing them actively, can I really claim them)?

Friday, November 06, 2009

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 23:44:55 GMT

There are days when I’m positively sure I’m going to fail. Even if that feeling doesn’t last the whole day, the moments come with such intensity that I believe I’m unable to hold everything together and keep my fears from unraveling into gross reality around me. Yesterday was one of those said days.

I was at my internship school, frustrated at self for making ‘stupid’ mistakes in my presentation, sitting back observing a mentor teacher and growing more an more angry about my lack of control over the situation.
Urban education certainly has a way of flipping personal philosophy on its head. I find myself questioning methods and ‘rules’ of management all the time, asking, “Is this really what these kids need? And if not, how the heck am I supposed to know what students need? And if a kid still fails after a teacher has tried his or her darnest, is it the educator’s fault? Can those on the wrong side of the achievement gap be held responsible? And why should they if society isn’t held responsible? Does government really expect teachers to be these kids ‘saviors’?”…
My head starts spinning inside and I sink into the floor inches at a time, wondering when I’ll be able to come up for air.

Fortunately it comes when my mentor teacher hands me the pen and I stand up to lead the next part of the lesson. Suddenly, I’m in a role… not because ANY of my questions have been answered but because I’ve been given a distraction, a method of influence. I teach, interact, laugh with the kids, and start feeling better. The day ends with me feeling some sort of redemption through ‘doing.’ My body and mind went through the motions of success, whereby my tumultuous heart calmed.

I always knew acting skills were important, but in the ‘professional’ world they seem all the more vital for survival. Which brings me to another thought… if urban neighborhoods are all about respect and posturing of identity in order hold one’s own, how much should we teach ‘acting’ as a way of building esteem?

For example, I met ‘Compassion,’ a high school student today. She doesn’t have any friends and reads about seven grade levels below where she’s slated to be. I wonder how and who she communicates to… I wonder about her thoughts as I pull timid answers out with each question I ask. I try to leave my questions open-ended but she seems to search for words. Pointed questions appear easier to answer. I try to be direct without being political or rude. I want to see her express her self through some way… I’m thinking about bring in some one-acts next time, because ‘acting’ can be such a release from present limitations… “Quick, go don on your masks my friends! Be what you can’t, so that you can later stand what you are…” or something like that…

In somewhat unrelated thoughts, I like Talmudic way of asking things… even 'ridiculous' questions to God.
I like how Jews are not scared to question earnestly because that really means a person wants an answer from God, not merely complaining or avoiding the situation. I say this because I certainly have some questions about ‘why’ things are the way they are in the world… I understand why they think the Messiah hasn’t come yet if the Messiah is supposed to ‘Transform’ the world. Indeed Jesus DID transform the world at his coming, changing our very calendar from B.C. to A.D., giving us new philosophy such as “Love your enemies,” “Turn the other cheek,” “Give to the poor,” don’t forget the widows and so on… Christianity at its core is all about ‘Transformation;’ making fools wise and the wise, fools. Still, I can see their argument about injustices present in our world… It makes me wonder, “Does God allow injustice to occur as part of His judgment? And if so, why are ‘good’ people affected, what do Jews think about judgment in this life (is there any?) and how does the God of wrath (as seen in the Old Testament) make Himself known in the present?” Yes, indeed. How can questions not be loved?

an evolving poem

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 18:38:38 GMT

The heart is all-together stupid because no matter what the mind says
The organ has a will of its own where you can say it doesn’t matter
But then are unable explain the grossness of emotions pulsing out

Why does lifeblood not listen to complacency? Or refuse to be led?
Why the emotional freak out at the most inopportune times?

Despise the water flow from your face, the nauseous intestinal flip within
The inability to will it any way you wish like other external things
Even the unintelligent know that both the stomach and mind have their appetites

Foolish girl to think that you could shut it out, leading it any way you wish
Better learn how to not care or want. Quick, fling away the hand and hug
Curl up as a turtle inside the shell letting only eyes peer out with darts to kill

Insecurity held at bay by the mind becomes illuminated in the heart’s view
The mind knows who I am; why must the heart argue ignorance proving false
Emotions appearing real, do they need someone to own; can they own self?

Because when you like somebody everything about that person pleases you.
He can do wrong. His interests become your interests. His skills, your wishful talents.

The more time spent studying his personage, learning his hair, eyes, and mouth
The more inseparable they seem, the greater your fondness grows for them

You come to know that person’s ways so inexplicably that you can predict
Preferences and needs, know each sound the other makes with its meaning’

Together you form an alternate identity of self, one that exists only when united
It isn’t just him you want, but the idea of who you are and could be when with him
You read each others thoughts, feeling similar to each other, but still are surprised
When learning something new of him with each day mixing all his subtle nuances
Into colored canvassed scene more brilliant with each given glance – Give care,

As you cross over into Expectation of Companionship, joy linked to his arrival
Defenses up, close without connection, touching but guarded against heartsickness
Bound to occur upon separation or seeing the presence of another face in your place

Jealousy, an ugly word, where the worst is imagined as an internal precaution
Plaguing self with horrendous possibilities and not because you want to believe
But to bracing against deeper feeling, giving self shock therapy out of the infatuation

Truisms for the week...

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 16:13:40 GMT

It’s the things I think about that I appreciate the most. In other words, I had no idea I was such a ‘quality time’ person until reflecting upon it lately. Yet from a pedagogical standpoint it makes sense; students learn more when they invest their own thoughts, and the more time spent on self-invested ideas (free of compulsion), the more real and personal those beliefs become.

Why are some ideas more appealing to others? Why do some topics resonate and require further inquiry when other topics do not stir me up so? Probably for the same reasons that some people are easier to talk to than others… because ideas/ beliefs are like people in the sense I get something from them... some sort of condolence and security. Often I value the thoughts I do because they justify my already values… And yet thinking about things that are not my values slowly change me. It’s subtle really. I almost don’t notice the change except that I hear myself think, say, and act askance to conversations previously held… as in my memories.

How strong are memories? How important are values and convictions previously held? Are they just mile-markers on the journey of life or should they be ‘protected’? Yes we are to continue growing, ‘evolving’ our development into maturity… but when does GROWTH diverge from CHANGE? Are the two the same or in opposition to self-development?

“Wait for the Lord” is a phrase that’s stuck out in my mind this week… probably because I’m so bad at following such a directive. I can understand the messenger in 2 Kings 6:33 who sees the famine around him and says, “This disaster is from the LORD. Why should I wait for the LORD any longer?” Elisha’s responds that the messenger will see God open the floodgates of provision, but that he won’t eat any of it.
SO waiting, is really about faith… Patience in the unseen/ unknown… especially when a person wants to do God’s job and ‘fix’ personal points of contention. Hrm.

Psalm 27:14 Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.
Psalm 37:34 Wait for the LORD and keep his way. He will exalt you to inherit the land; when the wicked are cut off, you will see it.
Psalm 130:5 I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.
Proverbs 20:22 Do not say, "I'll pay you back for this wrong!" Wait for the LORD, and he will deliver you.
Isaiah 8:17 I will wait for the LORD, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob. I will put my trust in him.

All this to say, I’m thinking about faith… wanting to value it, even if I currently spend more ‘quality time’ thinking about my fears and comfort. The inner voice is there and I don’t mean to deny it, but ultimately the hearts starts to look like economics and sides with where I invest the most.

Defensively I say, “Does God have arms to hold? Can He lead me by the hand through a dark place? Can He speak reassurances in my ear? Does His voice speak out against the crowd for me? Does His ‘touch’ quiet my soul, resting, yet wanting more? Can God make me laugh? Can I have ‘fun’ with Him?” Some statements are of ‘can’ and others of ‘do’ because God’s abilities/ qualities change in my mind depending on emotion… I read what the psalmist writes on some of those questions and KNOW yet my experiences/ heart cries out with disbelief.

But where can I go? “He is jealous for me; loves like a hurricane and I am tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.” Therefore, I do take some small comfort in knowing that the messenger will SEE God’s wonders even if he won’t taste of them…

Friday, October 16, 2009

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 04:50:51 GMT

Probably should be sleeping right now…

There are so many things left to do, so many things on my mind to which I’ve already negatively reacted, and too many things to try and process through them all. But because I haven’t journaled in about a month, I haven’t even really thought about my thinking… which sounds crazy, but it’s necessary to take time to inventory what I believe, who I am, and where I’m going… or else everything starts to get a little screwy… Fine. A lot screwy.

Such as today… I had some ‘free’ time at my internship site this morning and decided to spend 15 minutes writing my thoughts down. Before I knew it, I found myself in the resource closet crying while trying to write down my FRUSTRATIONS. Awesome. It was then, my mentor teacher found me to ask for help with quarter grades. A little embarrassed, I was able to pull myself together and continue going through the motions of living, but only until lunch. I had to get out; go somewhere…

The first bookstore didn’t have what I was looking for, and the second store had too much - A whole row on psychology and I stood there with this other dude in the aisle also looking overwhelmed. There were many books on how to parent a bi-polar child but none on how to parent a manic depressant parent. I flipped through some of the more scientific looking ones… Unfortunately, there aren’t any “friendly comprehensive guides.” There’s nothing friendly about trying to understand all the complexities of personality and the mind… the meds, the uppers, downers, the in-between stages, or mania… It all kind of runs together and makes me want to wet myself out of frustration, fear, and anger. Prozac Nation looked like the most interesting, but I wasn’t about to buy a memoir of another depressed person. I think I find those voices on my own easily enough… because face it; non-happy people tend to find each other… as if pain were a magnet or something.

I left the stores without buying a single book because the sheer knowledge of what I might learn freaked me out. I don’t want to know about genetics, phases, or triggers… I have my own questions:

How much of depression is mental?
How much of it is spiritual?
Is any of it? And if not, is it just a matter of handling the physiological?
How can one know the truth of God if the mind is jacked up (not making the logical connections it needs to come to application/ conclusion)?
Are my behaviors out of spiritual rebellion or some mental disorder?
How much of a ‘crutch’ are mental disorders for those not able to deal with past trauma or resolve life experiences to move forward?
Does the ‘church’ have answers to psychology?
Does God make people crazy/ sick in the head?
Can God heal mental illness? What about the kinds that are in one’s genes?
Didn’t God give us our genes after all?
Am I responsible to understand much of God, or just the stuff I’m able to comprehend?
What do I do with the emotions that swing so low? Isn’t it natural then to not trust the highs… to not want the ‘happiness’s’ because they just jack with my mind?

I thank God for my sane and happy friends who are great conversants. I thank God for hugs, beautiful weather, and fruit. I thank God for dogs and soft things that I can run my hands through. Oh, and for music and colors. And finally, sleep too... because it allows us to start every day anew refreshed and ready to tackle more questions... allowing laughter in between

Monday, October 12, 2009

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 05:21:05 GMT

Do you ever do stupid stuff that you know is going to mess things up, but you do it anyway? Why do I do that? I mean, I kind of have an idea as to some of the reasons 'why,' but it takes longer to sort through the reasons and come with alternative methods than to just do the stupid... And to think I'm going into teaching. Ha.

I think it's because I rationalize, "I'll get to that when I have time," but time never really comes and I end up detouring farther and longer than ever intended... not that stupid stuff is ever intended, but allowed... and allowance can become a form of intention... by mere ignorance... (((((wow, I just realized the word ignorance comes from "to ignore"... DANG! ignore-ance... possibly a gerund form of to ignore... a form different than ignoring... end of side tangent)))))

All that to say, I don't mean to be that way... I don't mean to be stupid or unintentional with life. I realize each day is a beautiful gift, and yet it seems so easy to get it wrong.

Are some of us meant to detour? Of course God is greater than our stupidity... Uh. Grace is so much harder to abide by than rules. Not only am I convicted by the law, but the spirit of it which is WAY bigger than only 613 rules. And Jewish people think they have a lot to live up to...

Can you read this like a poem?

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 20:25:11 GMT

What is it about asking questions?

Why do they make a difference?

How are they different from statements?

Can a person ignore a question like a statement?

Is it what happens, when they’re asked?

What is it that happens, when they’re asked?

Is it that questions require something from us?

What do questions require from us?

Do questions stir something within you?

Is it the punctuation or tone used?

Does the ‘upward lilt’ affect the heart’s openness?

Is it mystery or truth that appeals more?

From where do you and I find the answers?

Are they within the questions themselves?

Or do questions force us to find answers without?

'Without what' can we discern?

Does the absence of an answer provide one?

Are questions, in response to questions, answers?

Do questions lead us to more questions or to answers?

Have you decided yet?

Now, do you have any questions?

More Poems...

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 10:39:26 GMT

POOL SIDE CONVERSATIONS
We talked of Genesis and Revelations
Of origins and endings
Skipping mostly the in between
Yet the present, seemed dependent
On the interpretation of those two
More than any other thing.
“Is that true?” and
“What can be made from it?”
Were asked unaware
Until the bubbles died down
Water turning back to ground,
Leaving no ripples about.

DEFINE-MENT
Love without Like is obligation
A control elicited from memories
Like without Love is infatuation
Both unreliable and anticipatory
Love with Like, a rare mystery
Where truth finally meets esteem

I am a Vocal Part -

Fri, 02 Oct 2009 15:45:16 GMT

A shimmery descant ebbing notes around
Unacknowledged rhythms.
I know that there are rules there,
That they influence me unaware,
But I say they have no part in my art.
Guitar Hero, a white girl’s rap,
Though it some know beat enough to dance,
I place head against the floor and try hearing
Only the down steps of salsa shoes.
I’m not interested in the trills voices make,
That part is already ingrained to my head.
I don’t have to force my soul to make sounds
The lines come from within, and flow out.
No, it’s the rhythm that alludes,
It’s measurement in the way of sound.
I’ve fooled myself for so long,
Saying I don’t need it, that my mind can create
Apart from the counting and compulsion of order.
I say words are my syncopation, lyrics, my love,
That they truly comprise music,
With time, just as an author afterthought.
Yet in my deepest parts, drums a force
That longs to know the why of steps, and sways
Of heels clamoring over hardwood in symphony.
I can’t escape their call to order, to unison
Of something greater than my solo streamed sound
Theirs shakes the depths of the earth
Resonating floorboards for hours beyond
My melody depends on it; I can see that now
And so I close my eyes, trying to forget what I know
About vocals and feel solely their movement
Pulsing through the floor, time creating a new world
In which lines of notes will be born, shimmering above
Yet always rooted in the environment of origin.
I will come to understand,
Even if it requires lying on the floor all night,
Even it means forgetting words to gain time
I will - so I can, marry the notions and experience
Both IN UNISON magically twining into more
Than either could be alone

AND PAUSE

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 16:47:10 GMT

Man of mutual mind, at least in many things
Holds my respect as well as my hand
We walk stride in stride, leaning on another
As one unit ready to take on, whatever the path

He’s so easy to follow, the walk - almost mine
I forget my worries surrounded by sunlit sublime
The ideal seems fleeting when given reality
How then can I leave to follow a bizarre dream?

It’s strange to be so close and yet removed
There in action, but incongruent in thought
Appearing one way, but underlying, seem ‘other’
All in a befuddle of uncertainty as where to go

To be present, and to not, seems my current lot
Contentment and tension dance together
Inside my head, then felt in my fingers’ grasp
As I reach towards the man of mutual mind
(AND PAUSE)