Well, the decision's been made. Sioux City rejected our request to be released for open enrollment because we were past the deadline. So, the girls are going to Sioux City schools this fall: Eastin full-time at Sunnyside Elementary, and Leslie for two morning classes at East Middle School (then homeschooled the rest of the day). Then the next year, Leslie will go to East High full-time. Home of the Black Raiders. School colors are orange and black. My old Creative Memories customers will appreciate the irony of that.
I was disappointed. Actually, when I got the call, I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. But I'm OK, now. None of them are bad schools. They'll be fine.
Next week, we have to do three mornings of standardized testing to satisfy our requirements to the state of Iowa for homeschooling. The girls are nervous, because they've never done anything like this before. I'm not nervous, but I'm anxious to see how they do, just for my own curiosity. Unfortunately, the lady in charge of the testing told me they've changed procedures this year and it may take until June to get the results in. How ridiculous! Whatever.
I remember how moms in our Friday School group would come up to me (because I'm a former teacher) and talk to me about how their kids were doing -- am I covering enough? Should I be worried about their progress? I always reassured them they were doing fine. Barring unusual learning disabilities or such, almost any parent who cares that much about their kids' education and who has knowledge of and access to the plethora of homeschooling resources available is going to do fine -- at least, good enough.
Our problem as homeschooling parents is we insist on perfection, on getting the exact right curriculum, the exact right schedule, the exact right everything. Not that we should settle for less than the best we can do. Cindy, my first homeschooling friend in Springfield, used to remind us that when God calls us to do something, he calls us to excellence and not to mediocrity.
On the other hand, excellence does not require perfection. I had Creative Memories customers who would spend a couple hours at a workshop playing around with their pictures, different papers, different stickers, different arrangements, etc. etc. . . trying to find the perfect layout -- for one page. And then they went home with a still-mostly-empty album and a box still full of photos to be inserted. "Done is better than perfect," I told them. Sometimes good enough is truly good enough.
I'm not worried about how my girls' test results come out next week, because I know I've done my best -- and good enough is good enough. I'm not worried about which schools they go to next year -- because good enough is good enough. So, I'll start looking for orange clothes I can live with (gotta show school spirit). Go Black Raiders. Go orange and black. (Orange. Ugh.)
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Comments to Ona, part 5
Those of you who have been paying any attention to my Ona commentary may have noticed a pattern in all of my musings. If so, you're a better thinker than I. LOL! Personally, I feel like I'm wandering a lot, and I apologize if you feel the same way and find that frustrating . .
In any case, I want to take a left turn and talk about sin. Let's look at a pivotal story in the Bible: the "Fall" in the Garden of Eden. I'm not going to reiterate the story, because I assume that most of my friends who would be reading this already know it. (If I assume incorrectly, it's in Genesis 3. Check it out -- it's good potty reading.)
My friend is always encouraging me to forget for the moment whether a Biblical passage is factual or not -- it can be true without being factual, she says. (Just like the parables Jesus told -- just like other literature we read.) Whether or not it really happened, what is the truth in the passage? So, OK -- I'm going to try really hard to do it her way and not read into it the "fundamentalist" beliefs I was raised with. Just read it like a piece of literature . . . like one of the Greek myths I used to teach in English class . . not evaluating the veracity of the truths yet, just identifying them. So, looking at the story, what truths can we see there? I find a few:
1) Humanity is easily deceived. These two people were the first of God's creation, and they actually walked and talked with God. If anyone had reason to be solid on and certain of what was true -- and if anyone had access to the ultimate source of truth to check it out -- it was Adam and Eve. Humanity didn't get gullible as time went by -- we were so from the beginning.
2) What exactly was it they did that was wrong? They didn't believe God. God told them, "Don't eat from this tree." He didn't tell them why, but did he need to? Obviously, his word wasn't good enough for them. Instead, they listened to this serpent dude, whoever that is.
3) Why, ultimately, did they choose to eat the fruit? Beyond the fact that it was "pleasing to the eye" (was the rest of the garden's fruit ugly? why are the forbidden things always prettier?), they were told, "You will be like God." They saw that it was "desirable for gaining wisdom", that is God's wisdom. They wanted to be their own Gods.
4) Adam and Eve apparently had no issues with being naked until after they ate the fruit. Then they were ashamed of themselves and hid. Two possible takes on this -- their new knowledge of good and evil helped them see their nakedness was evil, or their new knowledge of good and evil helped them see their disobedience was evil and they couldn't bear being so open and vulnerable before God anymore. Seeing how their nakedness was not evil when God created them naked and pronounced everything "very good", I'd say the latter "truth" is a better interpretation.
5) Humanity apparently has an automatic reflex to blame someone else when they've done something wrong. To all parents out there, this is one for the "duh" file.
6) There were serious consequences to their actions. They were banned from the garden -- and no human ever went back. Life was now going to get HARD. God had given them an easy, blessed, fulfilling life, and they now had pain and toil and sweat and frustration. Not to mention death (many possibilities for what kind of death we're talking about here--no time to get into that right now).
7) Living forever in their current state would be a bad thing (which is the reason God gave for banishing them from the Garden and from access to the Tree of Life. Interesting that they were not forbidden to eat of this tree before now--was living forever part of the original plan, perhaps?).
In all, what truths do I get from this story that the reader would be expected to apply to life? I am not God . . . and I am not created to be one or become one. I am meant to be in an open, vulnerable, trusting, submissive relationship to God. That requires paying close attention to what God tells me and obeying even if it doesn't make sense. Failing to do so does irreparable damage to that relationship and sacrifices the life that God had in mind for me, a life He says was GOOD. And as far as this story goes, there is nothing I can do about it once the damage is done.
What "truths" do I find antithetical to this story? That we can trust our reasoning apart from God's revelation (we are easily deceived). That God's greatest desire for us is that we gain wisdom and understanding and are able to handle life on our own (he didn't want them to eat of the tree and gain the knowledge of good and evil-- he wanted them to depend on him). That we can make it all better after we screw up by repenting and promising to do better (there's no word in this story at all of things being made better -- they're banned from the Garden forever and their lives are never the same).
Now, I haven't read every Biblical story in this manner. This is one story out of the plethora in the Bible. And admittedly, the truths here fall short of "The Baptist Doctrine of Faith" from my parent's bookshelf. However, they certainly fall further on the conservative, traditional side of the spectrum than on the more liberal side. And I would expect that were I to examine the rest of the Bible this way, the consensus of "truths" therein would still lean my direction.
My point is, with all due respect, I think there is more behind the liberal take on Christianity than a "serious but non-literal" reading of the Bible. I don't know how you get to a radically liberal Christian belief system strictly from the Bible, without starting from a worldview that is already antagonistic to traditional beliefs.
Yep, there's more coming . . .
In any case, I want to take a left turn and talk about sin. Let's look at a pivotal story in the Bible: the "Fall" in the Garden of Eden. I'm not going to reiterate the story, because I assume that most of my friends who would be reading this already know it. (If I assume incorrectly, it's in Genesis 3. Check it out -- it's good potty reading.)
My friend is always encouraging me to forget for the moment whether a Biblical passage is factual or not -- it can be true without being factual, she says. (Just like the parables Jesus told -- just like other literature we read.) Whether or not it really happened, what is the truth in the passage? So, OK -- I'm going to try really hard to do it her way and not read into it the "fundamentalist" beliefs I was raised with. Just read it like a piece of literature . . . like one of the Greek myths I used to teach in English class . . not evaluating the veracity of the truths yet, just identifying them. So, looking at the story, what truths can we see there? I find a few:
1) Humanity is easily deceived. These two people were the first of God's creation, and they actually walked and talked with God. If anyone had reason to be solid on and certain of what was true -- and if anyone had access to the ultimate source of truth to check it out -- it was Adam and Eve. Humanity didn't get gullible as time went by -- we were so from the beginning.
2) What exactly was it they did that was wrong? They didn't believe God. God told them, "Don't eat from this tree." He didn't tell them why, but did he need to? Obviously, his word wasn't good enough for them. Instead, they listened to this serpent dude, whoever that is.
3) Why, ultimately, did they choose to eat the fruit? Beyond the fact that it was "pleasing to the eye" (was the rest of the garden's fruit ugly? why are the forbidden things always prettier?), they were told, "You will be like God." They saw that it was "desirable for gaining wisdom", that is God's wisdom. They wanted to be their own Gods.
4) Adam and Eve apparently had no issues with being naked until after they ate the fruit. Then they were ashamed of themselves and hid. Two possible takes on this -- their new knowledge of good and evil helped them see their nakedness was evil, or their new knowledge of good and evil helped them see their disobedience was evil and they couldn't bear being so open and vulnerable before God anymore. Seeing how their nakedness was not evil when God created them naked and pronounced everything "very good", I'd say the latter "truth" is a better interpretation.
5) Humanity apparently has an automatic reflex to blame someone else when they've done something wrong. To all parents out there, this is one for the "duh" file.
6) There were serious consequences to their actions. They were banned from the garden -- and no human ever went back. Life was now going to get HARD. God had given them an easy, blessed, fulfilling life, and they now had pain and toil and sweat and frustration. Not to mention death (many possibilities for what kind of death we're talking about here--no time to get into that right now).
7) Living forever in their current state would be a bad thing (which is the reason God gave for banishing them from the Garden and from access to the Tree of Life. Interesting that they were not forbidden to eat of this tree before now--was living forever part of the original plan, perhaps?).
In all, what truths do I get from this story that the reader would be expected to apply to life? I am not God . . . and I am not created to be one or become one. I am meant to be in an open, vulnerable, trusting, submissive relationship to God. That requires paying close attention to what God tells me and obeying even if it doesn't make sense. Failing to do so does irreparable damage to that relationship and sacrifices the life that God had in mind for me, a life He says was GOOD. And as far as this story goes, there is nothing I can do about it once the damage is done.
What "truths" do I find antithetical to this story? That we can trust our reasoning apart from God's revelation (we are easily deceived). That God's greatest desire for us is that we gain wisdom and understanding and are able to handle life on our own (he didn't want them to eat of the tree and gain the knowledge of good and evil-- he wanted them to depend on him). That we can make it all better after we screw up by repenting and promising to do better (there's no word in this story at all of things being made better -- they're banned from the Garden forever and their lives are never the same).
Now, I haven't read every Biblical story in this manner. This is one story out of the plethora in the Bible. And admittedly, the truths here fall short of "The Baptist Doctrine of Faith" from my parent's bookshelf. However, they certainly fall further on the conservative, traditional side of the spectrum than on the more liberal side. And I would expect that were I to examine the rest of the Bible this way, the consensus of "truths" therein would still lean my direction.
My point is, with all due respect, I think there is more behind the liberal take on Christianity than a "serious but non-literal" reading of the Bible. I don't know how you get to a radically liberal Christian belief system strictly from the Bible, without starting from a worldview that is already antagonistic to traditional beliefs.
Yep, there's more coming . . .
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Just Doing It
My dad's brother, Uncle Jim, told me a great story once about my dad. They grew up on a farm in a small town in Western Kansas. One month into his first year of college, Uncle Jim got a visit from his older brother, my dad, who asked him how things were going. Jim told him he hated school and he was going to quit.
My dad told him bluntly, "It doesn't matter if you hate it. It's just like plowing a field. You don't think about if you hate it or like it -- you don't think about how you feel about it at all. It has to be done -- so you just do it." (I wonder if our family could sue Nike . . )
I think about that story and my father's words of wisdom when I'm swimming laps at the Y. Because I hate swimming laps at the Y. Well, the actual swimming of the laps isn't really that bad. But I hate packing up the towels and suits and what-all, driving to the Y, getting changed (and getting the girls changed), adjusting to the shock of the cold water (OH, how I hate that!!), walking around cold in a wet swimsuit afterwards, changing everyone back into street clothes, drying the hair (since it's so cold out still), washing out the suits, showering, hanging up the wet stuff at home . . . it's the hassle I hate. And it's really a hassle.
Nevertheless, I need the exercise. And the membership is paid for. And when we're at the Y, there's something (the play pool) to keep the girls occupied while I exercise. And swimming is at least better than the treadmill or bikes or something awful like that. Right now, (other than my dance class, which only meets once a week) this is my best option for getting some physical activity into my life.
But I've noticed that once I set a trip to the Y in my schedule, I have to kind of go into auto-mode. If I think too much about what I'm doing and what I'm about to do, I'll talk myself out of it.
What I ponder, as I swim my laps, is how exactly I taught myself to do this -- to stop thinking about how much I hate something and just do it anyway. Because it's something my kids really need to learn to do. Yes, I know some of that just comes with maturity. But it is obviously a learned skill, because we all know people who never learned it. I want to be sure my kids don't fall into that number someday.
I also need to figure out how to apply that skill in other times of my life. I hate walking away from dessert after a meal . . but I need to just do it. I hate to make my kids pick up after themselves when I know how they're going to whine about it . . but I need to just do it. I hate to turn off the computer and go to bed when I know Facebook is there calling to me . . but . .
OK. OK. I'm doing it.
My dad told him bluntly, "It doesn't matter if you hate it. It's just like plowing a field. You don't think about if you hate it or like it -- you don't think about how you feel about it at all. It has to be done -- so you just do it." (I wonder if our family could sue Nike . . )
I think about that story and my father's words of wisdom when I'm swimming laps at the Y. Because I hate swimming laps at the Y. Well, the actual swimming of the laps isn't really that bad. But I hate packing up the towels and suits and what-all, driving to the Y, getting changed (and getting the girls changed), adjusting to the shock of the cold water (OH, how I hate that!!), walking around cold in a wet swimsuit afterwards, changing everyone back into street clothes, drying the hair (since it's so cold out still), washing out the suits, showering, hanging up the wet stuff at home . . . it's the hassle I hate. And it's really a hassle.
Nevertheless, I need the exercise. And the membership is paid for. And when we're at the Y, there's something (the play pool) to keep the girls occupied while I exercise. And swimming is at least better than the treadmill or bikes or something awful like that. Right now, (other than my dance class, which only meets once a week) this is my best option for getting some physical activity into my life.
But I've noticed that once I set a trip to the Y in my schedule, I have to kind of go into auto-mode. If I think too much about what I'm doing and what I'm about to do, I'll talk myself out of it.
What I ponder, as I swim my laps, is how exactly I taught myself to do this -- to stop thinking about how much I hate something and just do it anyway. Because it's something my kids really need to learn to do. Yes, I know some of that just comes with maturity. But it is obviously a learned skill, because we all know people who never learned it. I want to be sure my kids don't fall into that number someday.
I also need to figure out how to apply that skill in other times of my life. I hate walking away from dessert after a meal . . but I need to just do it. I hate to make my kids pick up after themselves when I know how they're going to whine about it . . but I need to just do it. I hate to turn off the computer and go to bed when I know Facebook is there calling to me . . but . .
OK. OK. I'm doing it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Out Of My Hands
Terrifying words for a control freak.
I turned in the paperwork yesterday to Sioux City School District requesting they release our girls for open enrollment in the Sergeant Bluff School District. After a week and a half of frantic school visits, discussions, and praying (frantic because we didn't know that the deadline for applying for open enrollment was March 1st), Keith and I decided that the smaller district (particularly the smaller high school) with the more modern facilities and which seems more accustomed to accommodating homeschoolers and dual enrollers was the better choice for our girls.
But, as I said, we're after the deadline. All the schools involved -- both in Sioux City and in Sergeant Bluff -- seemed to think that as long as we got our paperwork in soon, there shouldn't be much of a problem.
But the lady at the main office who actually took the paperwork from my hands yesterday didn't seem as optimistic. Not necessarily pessimistic. Maybe she just had to make sure I was prepared for a denial if it came.
In a way, I suppose this is good. This leaves the whole situation truly in God's hands. If the girls are supposed to be in Sergeant Bluff, He can move the heart of the superintendent to give us grace (we didn't know there was such an early deadline, after all!). If the girls are supposed to be in Sioux City, He won't.
I'm afraid I'll be disappointed, though. And I hate the wait. Some people would say I should be able to relax now, because I've done all I can do. But I'll probably still kick myself about something --should have checked about deadlines sooner . . should have attached a note about our circumstances . . there's always a should-have.
And, really, it wouldn't be a terrible thing for them to be in Sioux City schools. There's nothing wrong with them. They have their advantages, too. The girls would be fine there. They just aren't our preference.
Anyway -- it's out of my hands. We should know by the end of the week or the beginning of next. Then I'm sure I'll find something else to stress out about.
I turned in the paperwork yesterday to Sioux City School District requesting they release our girls for open enrollment in the Sergeant Bluff School District. After a week and a half of frantic school visits, discussions, and praying (frantic because we didn't know that the deadline for applying for open enrollment was March 1st), Keith and I decided that the smaller district (particularly the smaller high school) with the more modern facilities and which seems more accustomed to accommodating homeschoolers and dual enrollers was the better choice for our girls.
But, as I said, we're after the deadline. All the schools involved -- both in Sioux City and in Sergeant Bluff -- seemed to think that as long as we got our paperwork in soon, there shouldn't be much of a problem.
But the lady at the main office who actually took the paperwork from my hands yesterday didn't seem as optimistic. Not necessarily pessimistic. Maybe she just had to make sure I was prepared for a denial if it came.
In a way, I suppose this is good. This leaves the whole situation truly in God's hands. If the girls are supposed to be in Sergeant Bluff, He can move the heart of the superintendent to give us grace (we didn't know there was such an early deadline, after all!). If the girls are supposed to be in Sioux City, He won't.
I'm afraid I'll be disappointed, though. And I hate the wait. Some people would say I should be able to relax now, because I've done all I can do. But I'll probably still kick myself about something --should have checked about deadlines sooner . . should have attached a note about our circumstances . . there's always a should-have.
And, really, it wouldn't be a terrible thing for them to be in Sioux City schools. There's nothing wrong with them. They have their advantages, too. The girls would be fine there. They just aren't our preference.
Anyway -- it's out of my hands. We should know by the end of the week or the beginning of next. Then I'm sure I'll find something else to stress out about.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Comments to Ona, part 4
Is everyone bored with my bizarre musings with friend Ona yet? That's alright. Skim and move on.
Now, you all are going to have to give me some grace here. :) I'm going to shift gears and move from my own experiences into the realm of the hypothetical. I'm a simple woman. When I think about how it is that I know what I know, I come up with "four ways of knowing":
1) Through observation (I saw it myself, or it's a phenomenon I see on a regular basis -- this is essentially "scientific", or "empirical", because science can only deal with what is observable and repeatable).
2) Through reasoning (that is, it logically makes sense when I reason it out with my God-given ability to reason. My dog had babies -- only female dogs have babies -- so my old buddy Duke is actually a Duchess.)
3) Through feelings or intuition (not a reliable source to be sure, but not one to be discounted altogether. One to be used mainly when the others don't seem to give a conclusive answer.).
4) Through revelation (that is, someone told it to me. This is how most of us know most of the things we know in life. This is how I know that Australia exists, that my old boyfriend Shawn married Cherice from high school, that fish eat worms and that Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown.)
Four ways of knowing. OK? Good. Now, let me apply them to a scenario here. I come home from the grocery store and see that there is an elephant standing on the roof of my house. Now, there would be a lot of aspects of this situation that would concern me, but the first would probably be . . HOW did an elephant get on the roof of my house????
My personal observations can't help me figure it out. I wasn't around to see how it got there. And I've never seen anything like this before, so past observations don't help me either.
My reasoning? I suppose I could dream up some possible scenarios to explain how that elephant got there, but none of them would seem very likely or reasonable.
My gut instincts don't help me here either. Other than to warn me to stay out of the building until the elephant is removed.
My best hope here is revelation -- that there is someone else who saw what happened and can tell me. So I see our neighbor Mike standing in his yard looking at my new pet and ask him if he knows how it got there. Oh, yes, he says -- a huge crane came slowly into the cul de sac carrying Dumbo here and hoisted him onto my house before it left. Agreed, that's a bizarre story. But since observation, reasoning and intuition aren't getting me anywhere, I'll buy it.
Let's suppose, however, that neighbor Mike tells me that the elephant wandered up the cul de sac on his own, grew a set of wings, and flew onto my roof. Wings with purple and yellow feathers. I will probably not accept this revelation from neighbor Mike. His story conflicts with my prior knowledge of and experience with elephants; it rankles with my sense of logic; and my gut tells me neighbor Mike belongs in a psych ward.
But if neighbor Pam told me the same story, I might only wonder if she'd been working too hard. If my husband told that story to me, I'd think he was just pulling my leg. If my husband and neighbor Pam and neighbor Mike and a couple hundred other innocent bystanders told me the same story about the elephant sprouting wings . . . well, frankly, I'd start looking for the hidden camera and Ashton Kutcher (or Peter Funt, for you older fogies).
But if they seemed to be really serious about this . . if their stories were relatively consistent . . if I looked seriously into any other possible explanations and found them improbable . . well, I'd probably have to start believing in the flight of the elephant. Lacking any reason for that many people to lie to me about such an event -- especially people who I know to be generally reasonable, sober and trustworthy -- I would reluctantly have to admit that the miraculous seems to be the best explanation for the situation.
As I said, most of what we know, we know by revelation -- somebody else told us it was true. Usually, they are just confirming or adding to knowledge we already have. But when what we hear from someone else provides a major challenge to our prior assumptions (existing knowledge, logic or gut feelings), we have two choices: question the messenger, or question the prior assumptions.
I propose that perhaps, in some situations, we are too reluctant to question the prior assumptions. Sometimes, we have an unhealthy attachment to those assumptions -- they are, in a sense, a part of us. And I'm not pointing fingers at anyone -- I'm as likely to do this as anyone. But it's a necessary step to grow in maturity and faith. To be continued . . .
Now, you all are going to have to give me some grace here. :) I'm going to shift gears and move from my own experiences into the realm of the hypothetical. I'm a simple woman. When I think about how it is that I know what I know, I come up with "four ways of knowing":
1) Through observation (I saw it myself, or it's a phenomenon I see on a regular basis -- this is essentially "scientific", or "empirical", because science can only deal with what is observable and repeatable).
2) Through reasoning (that is, it logically makes sense when I reason it out with my God-given ability to reason. My dog had babies -- only female dogs have babies -- so my old buddy Duke is actually a Duchess.)
3) Through feelings or intuition (not a reliable source to be sure, but not one to be discounted altogether. One to be used mainly when the others don't seem to give a conclusive answer.).
4) Through revelation (that is, someone told it to me. This is how most of us know most of the things we know in life. This is how I know that Australia exists, that my old boyfriend Shawn married Cherice from high school, that fish eat worms and that Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown.)
Four ways of knowing. OK? Good. Now, let me apply them to a scenario here. I come home from the grocery store and see that there is an elephant standing on the roof of my house. Now, there would be a lot of aspects of this situation that would concern me, but the first would probably be . . HOW did an elephant get on the roof of my house????
My personal observations can't help me figure it out. I wasn't around to see how it got there. And I've never seen anything like this before, so past observations don't help me either.
My reasoning? I suppose I could dream up some possible scenarios to explain how that elephant got there, but none of them would seem very likely or reasonable.
My gut instincts don't help me here either. Other than to warn me to stay out of the building until the elephant is removed.
My best hope here is revelation -- that there is someone else who saw what happened and can tell me. So I see our neighbor Mike standing in his yard looking at my new pet and ask him if he knows how it got there. Oh, yes, he says -- a huge crane came slowly into the cul de sac carrying Dumbo here and hoisted him onto my house before it left. Agreed, that's a bizarre story. But since observation, reasoning and intuition aren't getting me anywhere, I'll buy it.
Let's suppose, however, that neighbor Mike tells me that the elephant wandered up the cul de sac on his own, grew a set of wings, and flew onto my roof. Wings with purple and yellow feathers. I will probably not accept this revelation from neighbor Mike. His story conflicts with my prior knowledge of and experience with elephants; it rankles with my sense of logic; and my gut tells me neighbor Mike belongs in a psych ward.
But if neighbor Pam told me the same story, I might only wonder if she'd been working too hard. If my husband told that story to me, I'd think he was just pulling my leg. If my husband and neighbor Pam and neighbor Mike and a couple hundred other innocent bystanders told me the same story about the elephant sprouting wings . . . well, frankly, I'd start looking for the hidden camera and Ashton Kutcher (or Peter Funt, for you older fogies).
But if they seemed to be really serious about this . . if their stories were relatively consistent . . if I looked seriously into any other possible explanations and found them improbable . . well, I'd probably have to start believing in the flight of the elephant. Lacking any reason for that many people to lie to me about such an event -- especially people who I know to be generally reasonable, sober and trustworthy -- I would reluctantly have to admit that the miraculous seems to be the best explanation for the situation.
As I said, most of what we know, we know by revelation -- somebody else told us it was true. Usually, they are just confirming or adding to knowledge we already have. But when what we hear from someone else provides a major challenge to our prior assumptions (existing knowledge, logic or gut feelings), we have two choices: question the messenger, or question the prior assumptions.
I propose that perhaps, in some situations, we are too reluctant to question the prior assumptions. Sometimes, we have an unhealthy attachment to those assumptions -- they are, in a sense, a part of us. And I'm not pointing fingers at anyone -- I'm as likely to do this as anyone. But it's a necessary step to grow in maturity and faith. To be continued . . .
My Radical Side
In my never-ending quest to sort through the junk in our basement, I've come upon the many boxes of stuff I kept from my teaching years. I honestly didn't realize how much I'd saved thinking I'd want it again someday--or just for sentiment's sake (like my "Pot Pass", an ugly, heavy orange pot that students had to carry with them if they needed to use the restroom during class--it discouraged unnecessary trips and made good use of a kitchen utensil that would have ended up in the trash otherwise).
Some interesting observations based on my reveries through these boxes:
- I was a good teacher. Really. Not to sound immodest, but I was. I had good ideas (found a whole legal pad full of notes to myself about units I did or wanted to do), I was well-organized. I got excellent evaluations from my principal and usually good ones from my students, too. I found several binders full of teacher inservice information that I realized at a glance I never needed. Things like breaking down a skill you want to teach into its component parts, having clear objectives and assessing what you teach, circulating the room . . all these things were instinctive to me.
- Although I was a good teacher, I was a bad salesperson. My career as a Creative Memories consultant confirmed this to me. I LOVED teaching the classes and workshops; I HATED selling the products, or even selling people on the idea. The same with teaching high school English. I have several copies of my beginning of the year handout, and I basically had two rules each year: 1) you take responsibility for your own learning, and 2) don't do anything that keeps others from learning or me from teaching. If you want to learn, I will get you there. If you don't, I'd just as soon send you to the library for the hour so you're out of the way for the rest of us. I don't suppose that's a good quality in a public school teacher where a primary part of the job is to motivate the students to want to learn.
- I worked really, really hard at teaching. I would spend hours preparing my lessons (actually the preparation was my favorite part of the job). I would often wear myself out with the energy of the presentation. Keith saw a quote the other day that teaching is 10% preparation and 90% theater. I'd adjust the percentages there, but otherwise, that's pretty accurate in my case.
- When I taught high school English, I was basically preparing for one (or two) hours of teaching time every day, which got repeated over and over. And it still took hours of my time (although some of those hours were also spent in grading . . but the grading always pointed out skills that I then needed to teach--it was actually a form of assessing or diagnosing). Now, in homeschooling, I am preparing four or more hours worth of teaching time every day, covering 6-8 subject matters at a time, at two different grade levels. No wonder I'm burnt out!!!!!
- School districts back then (and I'm pessimistic enough to assume this hasn't changed) spent a ridiculous amount of time in meaningless and unproductive meetings . . . spent an obscene amount of money on paper and printing for memos, messages, handouts, mission statements, objectives, rules, standards, oh good heavens -- I had binders FULL of paperwork and articles that someone thought was pertinent to the topic at hand that I'm sure I NEVER read. Wow.
- My writing style hasn't changed a whole lot over the last twenty years. I found old handouts I had used in classes and they sounded like something I could have written yesterday. In an assignment I did for, I believe, one of my last classes in college before I graduated, I had commented that many people told me that they liked my writing because I had a distinctive voice -- my writing sounded like me. That's a comment I still hear. And that's one of my favorite comments to hear.
- Since I kind of expect I will eventually end up back in public education at some point, it will be really interesting to see what that looks like. I am such a different person than I was then. I have learned so much more about teaching and learning from homeschooling. And I'm afraid I'll be a bit less of an accommodating employee than I was before. I'll probably go into an interview saying, "This is who I am, this is how I teach, this is what I'm good at and what I'm not . . take me or leave me." I may be lucky to get a job at all.
As it stands now, I don't see myself being interested in playing the typical school game to keep a job. If I go back into public education, my goal will be to ensure that my students -- and any other students I can have an influence on -- get the best education they can, even if that's despite the school system. I'll probably be a radical. And we all know how popular they are.
Some interesting observations based on my reveries through these boxes:
- I was a good teacher. Really. Not to sound immodest, but I was. I had good ideas (found a whole legal pad full of notes to myself about units I did or wanted to do), I was well-organized. I got excellent evaluations from my principal and usually good ones from my students, too. I found several binders full of teacher inservice information that I realized at a glance I never needed. Things like breaking down a skill you want to teach into its component parts, having clear objectives and assessing what you teach, circulating the room . . all these things were instinctive to me.
- Although I was a good teacher, I was a bad salesperson. My career as a Creative Memories consultant confirmed this to me. I LOVED teaching the classes and workshops; I HATED selling the products, or even selling people on the idea. The same with teaching high school English. I have several copies of my beginning of the year handout, and I basically had two rules each year: 1) you take responsibility for your own learning, and 2) don't do anything that keeps others from learning or me from teaching. If you want to learn, I will get you there. If you don't, I'd just as soon send you to the library for the hour so you're out of the way for the rest of us. I don't suppose that's a good quality in a public school teacher where a primary part of the job is to motivate the students to want to learn.
- I worked really, really hard at teaching. I would spend hours preparing my lessons (actually the preparation was my favorite part of the job). I would often wear myself out with the energy of the presentation. Keith saw a quote the other day that teaching is 10% preparation and 90% theater. I'd adjust the percentages there, but otherwise, that's pretty accurate in my case.
- When I taught high school English, I was basically preparing for one (or two) hours of teaching time every day, which got repeated over and over. And it still took hours of my time (although some of those hours were also spent in grading . . but the grading always pointed out skills that I then needed to teach--it was actually a form of assessing or diagnosing). Now, in homeschooling, I am preparing four or more hours worth of teaching time every day, covering 6-8 subject matters at a time, at two different grade levels. No wonder I'm burnt out!!!!!
- School districts back then (and I'm pessimistic enough to assume this hasn't changed) spent a ridiculous amount of time in meaningless and unproductive meetings . . . spent an obscene amount of money on paper and printing for memos, messages, handouts, mission statements, objectives, rules, standards, oh good heavens -- I had binders FULL of paperwork and articles that someone thought was pertinent to the topic at hand that I'm sure I NEVER read. Wow.
- My writing style hasn't changed a whole lot over the last twenty years. I found old handouts I had used in classes and they sounded like something I could have written yesterday. In an assignment I did for, I believe, one of my last classes in college before I graduated, I had commented that many people told me that they liked my writing because I had a distinctive voice -- my writing sounded like me. That's a comment I still hear. And that's one of my favorite comments to hear.
- Since I kind of expect I will eventually end up back in public education at some point, it will be really interesting to see what that looks like. I am such a different person than I was then. I have learned so much more about teaching and learning from homeschooling. And I'm afraid I'll be a bit less of an accommodating employee than I was before. I'll probably go into an interview saying, "This is who I am, this is how I teach, this is what I'm good at and what I'm not . . take me or leave me." I may be lucky to get a job at all.
As it stands now, I don't see myself being interested in playing the typical school game to keep a job. If I go back into public education, my goal will be to ensure that my students -- and any other students I can have an influence on -- get the best education they can, even if that's despite the school system. I'll probably be a radical. And we all know how popular they are.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Comments to Ona, part 3
I apologize for the scatter-brainedness of this discussion. As I said, I think I just need to talk (write) and find the threads between all these thoughts as I go. You all are kind of seeing my writing process in progress here. Scary, eh?
Another incident from my life . . . many years ago, a good friend was griping to me about her husband. He needed to find a different job, she thought. He needs to do this . . why won't he do that . . I don't understand why he doesn't . . yada yada. (Sorry if the "yada yadas" are getting old. Keeping my NJ ties -- and it's a fitting phrase for many a situation.)
As I listened to her, I had this radical revelation. I say, "revelation" rather than "thought", because it wasn't something I would have thought up myself; weird and mystical as it may sound to some of you, I felt very strongly that this was revealed to me.
I realized that what my friend needed to do was submit to her husband.
Now, you can only appreciate how radical this was if you knew how I'd struggled with the whole submission thing over the years. I had always hung my hat on the fact that God tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church -- and nobody assumes that husbands do all the loving in a relationship -- so why do they assume that wives do all the submitting? (I still do believe that, by the way.)
Yet I couldn't deny the fact that God gave specific submission instructions to wives . . and I hadn't figured out yet what to do with that.
But at that moment, with my friend, it all became abundantly clear. Her lack of trust and faith in him was keeping him from acting--was castrating him, so to speak, keeping him from leading the family. I told her, "You know what? I think it's time to do the submission thing. I think you need to tell him that you trust him to do the right thing for the family and that you will stand behind him no matter what he decides."
"I can't do that," she said. "I don't trust him. I think he'll mess up our family."
"Well, then that's when you need to trust God. He's the one who told you to submit."
Again, I have to classify all of these remarks of mine as revelations, or inspiration, because I had no idea really where they were coming from even while I said them -- but the truth of them was clear to me the moment they left my mouth.
My point here has to do with how I came to understand and believe the "wives submit to your husbands" principle. It's not that I read that principle in the Bible, recognized the truth in it, and then chose to put my faith in the God who said it. I first put my faith in God and his word -- and only after that did the truth of the principle become clear to me.
Faith involves our emotions, our thoughts, and our will. But perhaps not necessarily in any particular order. More later . . .
Another incident from my life . . . many years ago, a good friend was griping to me about her husband. He needed to find a different job, she thought. He needs to do this . . why won't he do that . . I don't understand why he doesn't . . yada yada. (Sorry if the "yada yadas" are getting old. Keeping my NJ ties -- and it's a fitting phrase for many a situation.)
As I listened to her, I had this radical revelation. I say, "revelation" rather than "thought", because it wasn't something I would have thought up myself; weird and mystical as it may sound to some of you, I felt very strongly that this was revealed to me.
I realized that what my friend needed to do was submit to her husband.
Now, you can only appreciate how radical this was if you knew how I'd struggled with the whole submission thing over the years. I had always hung my hat on the fact that God tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church -- and nobody assumes that husbands do all the loving in a relationship -- so why do they assume that wives do all the submitting? (I still do believe that, by the way.)
Yet I couldn't deny the fact that God gave specific submission instructions to wives . . and I hadn't figured out yet what to do with that.
But at that moment, with my friend, it all became abundantly clear. Her lack of trust and faith in him was keeping him from acting--was castrating him, so to speak, keeping him from leading the family. I told her, "You know what? I think it's time to do the submission thing. I think you need to tell him that you trust him to do the right thing for the family and that you will stand behind him no matter what he decides."
"I can't do that," she said. "I don't trust him. I think he'll mess up our family."
"Well, then that's when you need to trust God. He's the one who told you to submit."
Again, I have to classify all of these remarks of mine as revelations, or inspiration, because I had no idea really where they were coming from even while I said them -- but the truth of them was clear to me the moment they left my mouth.
My point here has to do with how I came to understand and believe the "wives submit to your husbands" principle. It's not that I read that principle in the Bible, recognized the truth in it, and then chose to put my faith in the God who said it. I first put my faith in God and his word -- and only after that did the truth of the principle become clear to me.
Faith involves our emotions, our thoughts, and our will. But perhaps not necessarily in any particular order. More later . . .
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