Sometimes I think that we're all like stained glass. Fragmented and broken, then welded together just enough so that despite the cracks, light can still come through.
It's something that I didn't always get to do at my old job. Which is strange to say, considering that I worked as a teacher. But teaching isn't so much about learning new things as it is about adapting yourself to find the best ways to show those things to others. Your enrichment (and there was always plenty of that) came from seeing your students gain understanding and begin to grow. But in a lot of ways teaching (at least at the level I was working on) holds a high risk of putting you in a place to tread water, which is never good.
And while it would be easy to blame this on the laughable professional culture at the school, the overall lack of direction or support from the county school board, the rose-colored blindness of a large portion of the parents, or even the students themselves, I'm not really sure that's what it was at all.
The topics could be anything -- religion, music, sports, relationships, whatever. The most important thing is having that opportunity for discourse. That chance to test your convictions, to be put in a place where it's not enough to have an opinion about something -- but you've got to back it up as well. Where stories you hear from other people, the ones glazed with a sense of individual passion spark your own curiosity.
For example, I wasn't really interested in surfing until I heard Gristina talk about it. I mean, I loved the ocean and have always loved to swim, but I never really wanted to surf until I met him. And sure, a big part of me trying it for the first time was wanting to do things that my friends were doing, but the reason I stuck with it came from the way that he and Spruill would talk. That glitter that would come into their eyes. It's like the way that someone you know can be talking about their favorite TV show, the one you saw the commercial for and didn't think that much of, and it makes you suddenly curious to watch it for yourself.
I'm almost ashamed to say that this morning was the first time I'd ever really heard her story.
But the weird thing about it was, once I found information about this Celtic queen and her revolt, it opened doors to other stories and ideas that caught my eye. Totally by accident I ended up on a page discussing the history of an Italian mathematician named Leonardo Fibonacci, who was basically responsible for the transition from Roman Numerals to the Arabic numbering system we use today.
But the one thing that I always found lacking was that overall thirst for knowledge. That hunger to know everything you could. I mean who knows, maybe the kids I taught were too young for that sort of epiphany -- but can you remember a time in your own life when you really worked hard to resist the chance to enrich your knowledge about the world you live in? When you didn't want to learn at all?
I think that's why teaching could be so draining at times. A lot of my excitement about the job came from the opportunity to show kids things that they maybe never would have had a chance to read or learn about if I wasn't in that classroom to help them find it. But when I got there what I found were kids who weren't bored with what they were being taught in school -- just bored with the idea of learning itself.
Rick Straub told me something I always tried to carry into the classroom with me:
But I think the real secret is that there is always something new to find, as long as you're willing to look.
For example, one of the other things I found out about Fibonacci this morning was that he studied and worked with the idea of recursive number sequences, the most basic of which ended up bearing his own name, the Fibonacci Sequence. Basically, each number in the sequence is the sum of the two numbers that come before it. Simple enough when you think about it, but what's really cool is the fact that Bela Bartok used it as a basis for rhythmic figures in some of his music, and it even spawned a style of poetry.
Then I got all nerdy and wrote a bunch of them to see how well I could do with it.
It's never perfect, and the colors aren't always rightThe more and more free time I find myself with, the more distractions I find creeping in. I say distractions because when you get right down to it there are other things I need to be focusing on. That being said, I think sometimes we need to have a chance to be ourselves, need to take the time to spread roots out into the soil and soak up the nutrients that feed us in more ways than just what is needed or required.
But it's nothing short of beautiful -- in it's own way.
I've been playing a ton of guitar.And while none of these things have helped me to find a new job, put money into my bank account, or cured me of the spiral of issues and problems that I'm currently dealing with -- by and large they've all in some form or another become inspirations for me to cultivate and grow.
Swimming deep into the ocean.
Reading. Discovering. Learning.
It's something that I didn't always get to do at my old job. Which is strange to say, considering that I worked as a teacher. But teaching isn't so much about learning new things as it is about adapting yourself to find the best ways to show those things to others. Your enrichment (and there was always plenty of that) came from seeing your students gain understanding and begin to grow. But in a lot of ways teaching (at least at the level I was working on) holds a high risk of putting you in a place to tread water, which is never good.
And while it would be easy to blame this on the laughable professional culture at the school, the overall lack of direction or support from the county school board, the rose-colored blindness of a large portion of the parents, or even the students themselves, I'm not really sure that's what it was at all.
I think in the end the problem was the lack of wonder.Have you ever had a friend that you could just really sit and talk with -- you know, just take a subject that was at hand and really find ways to dig into it? You can tell them your opinions, react to what they say. You can disagree. You find ways to see the other side. That kind of person in your life who's friendship, personality, and intellect you respect enough so that even when you don't see eye to eye on an particular issue, you're willing to at least consider the validity of what they are saying, and perhaps even let it evolve your own ideas into something better. Someone who lets you disagree with them, but never without a fight.
The topics could be anything -- religion, music, sports, relationships, whatever. The most important thing is having that opportunity for discourse. That chance to test your convictions, to be put in a place where it's not enough to have an opinion about something -- but you've got to back it up as well. Where stories you hear from other people, the ones glazed with a sense of individual passion spark your own curiosity.
For example, I wasn't really interested in surfing until I heard Gristina talk about it. I mean, I loved the ocean and have always loved to swim, but I never really wanted to surf until I met him. And sure, a big part of me trying it for the first time was wanting to do things that my friends were doing, but the reason I stuck with it came from the way that he and Spruill would talk. That glitter that would come into their eyes. It's like the way that someone you know can be talking about their favorite TV show, the one you saw the commercial for and didn't think that much of, and it makes you suddenly curious to watch it for yourself.
I'm drawn to intensity.This morning over breakfast I found myself pulled into this documentary about an uprising against the Roman occupation of Britain that was led by the Iceni Queen Boudica in AD 61. From just that snippet of information I found myself curious enough to start seeking out more information on the web, just because the story was fascinating and inspiring enough that I really wanted to know more about this amazing woman who was sort of pressed into leadership but then came within a stones throw of pushing the Roman Empire out of England. Villagers, farmers, regular people just swept up into her anger and passion -- willing to risk everything take on the worlds greatest army at the time, and nearly taking them down.
It's a seductive force.
I'm almost ashamed to say that this morning was the first time I'd ever really heard her story.
But the weird thing about it was, once I found information about this Celtic queen and her revolt, it opened doors to other stories and ideas that caught my eye. Totally by accident I ended up on a page discussing the history of an Italian mathematician named Leonardo Fibonacci, who was basically responsible for the transition from Roman Numerals to the Arabic numbering system we use today.
When you teach reading comprehension strategies for theAnd as cold as it might sound to say, very few of the kids I taught the past few years ever showed that sort of spark for wanting to build their own base of knowledge. Not that I didn't have smart, or capable kids in my classes -- not at all. I had all sorts of incredible students over the years, some starved for inspiration and direction (which I did my best to provide).
billionth time in a row, these kinds things don't happen.
But the one thing that I always found lacking was that overall thirst for knowledge. That hunger to know everything you could. I mean who knows, maybe the kids I taught were too young for that sort of epiphany -- but can you remember a time in your own life when you really worked hard to resist the chance to enrich your knowledge about the world you live in? When you didn't want to learn at all?
I think that's why teaching could be so draining at times. A lot of my excitement about the job came from the opportunity to show kids things that they maybe never would have had a chance to read or learn about if I wasn't in that classroom to help them find it. But when I got there what I found were kids who weren't bored with what they were being taught in school -- just bored with the idea of learning itself.
Rick Straub told me something I always tried to carry into the classroom with me:
"You can't give them everything. Otherwise there's nothing left to discover."
But I think the real secret is that there is always something new to find, as long as you're willing to look.
For example, one of the other things I found out about Fibonacci this morning was that he studied and worked with the idea of recursive number sequences, the most basic of which ended up bearing his own name, the Fibonacci Sequence. Basically, each number in the sequence is the sum of the two numbers that come before it. Simple enough when you think about it, but what's really cool is the fact that Bela Bartok used it as a basis for rhythmic figures in some of his music, and it even spawned a style of poetry.
Then I got all nerdy and wrote a bunch of them to see how well I could do with it.
Which in my book makes for a very cool morning indeed.Dream
Free
Without
Fear or Pause
So That What You See
Becomes the Very Thing You Seek.
[Listening to: Tiger Force, "Kill The Wonderboy"]
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