It's unusually warm and sunny today for late October, and it's hard to think anything bad about the day, so I won't. In response to the last blog, the early Monday went well. I ended up working 15 hours that day, but gave a lecture on 18th century art: Rococo and Neoclassical, and then wrote a lecture on 18th century lit for the next day.
The weeks fly by. We're halfway through the semester. I did the math this morning and realized I moved to Illinois four months ago. I've been to Idaho, Oregon, Kentucky, started a new teaching job, had friends divorce and had one of them end a 13 year friendship with me. At the same time ended a friendship with a girl I'd dated and talked about marriage with. She moved to Chicago. We haven't spoken since. Have stepped back from other relationships, stepped into others, and some days feel like I don't know how I got here, wonder when I'll feel like I've found home, and other days feel like there's no place in the world I'd rather be than at this place, this time, in this way. Pretty crazy, huh?
Last night I saw a football game with my good friend J.Rob. Actually, we go to the game to watch the halftime show, and mostly just use the game as an excuse to catch up and chat. It's cool to watch the ball move up and down the field, but that's just a side benefit. High school football tickets: $4. Conversation: priceless.
There's a smalltown diner called the Arcade where I sometimes go on Saturday mornings. I'm a person of habit, so I usually order a cup of coffee, and a ham, egg, and cheese sandwich on a bagel. It's a busy place on Saturday mornings, but it reconnects me to the realization that I'm living in a small town, with farmers and bankers and old state senators and college professors, most of whom today are wearing flannel.
The other day, in the midst of talking about Plato's philosophy, I told a group of my students that I'd gone rock climbing last Saturday. They thought it was great and wanted to go too, so now we're trying to get a group together to go rock climbing. I also found out they like to play Settlers, a game I was introduced to in Michigan, and we'll probably get together to play that too. I've come to think that some of the most valuable interactions that take place between teacher and students don't happen in the classroom, but outside it. It was this way when I was in college and grad school, sitting with a cup of coffee or tea with one of the profs, sometimes a beer, talking about writing and school and Ph.D. programs and life and health, world events and relationships.
Now I'm one of them. Some days it scares the crap out of me.
I think there are two major ideas when it comes to teaching. One is an Industrial Age idea, where students are the product and teachers are disseminating information (the "Sage on a stage" idea). Read the book. Absorb the information. Take the test. Write the paper. Rinse. Repeat. I always wondered why I'd lose passion for reading when I was in class, but pick it up again over summer break when I could read what I wanted to read. There's something to be said for discipline. There's also something to be said for something different too.
So the second model, the one that seems more organic, is a discipleship, mentoring idea. When the students and I have lunch together, it's still a classroom, but in these cases they're often teaching me as much or more as I'm teaching them. They're also asking the questions they want to ask. What about relationships? What about loneliness? What about this job I'm looking into? Jesus, Aristotle, Socrates and some of the Eastern teachers followed these models. It was definitely more organic, fused together the realization that learning and knowledge isn't just what happens in a classroom in a lab under sterile conditions, but has to connect to life, has to be lived out, has to actually on some level work and affect the ways we think, act, and live, and the ways we relate to each other, live in families and live in community. This is a different kind of knowledge; it's intimate; it gets down deep into our bones and changes the fabric of who we are. Experiences change us for this reason, practical application, hard knocks, reflection. For some reason this model excites me, makes me feel more alive and enjoy teaching more than the other.
3 comments:
I loved reading this blog. It was as much an inspiration as is was a good read. You write very well. A little over my head at times (and that's a good thng.. it pushes me) about authors or books.
All aside, home is where our heart is. At crossroads, it is someimes difficult to know where or hearts lie or what is the best direction for us.
There are benefits to not settling down yet. You can focus more time and attention to discovering yourself, being adventureous, doing those things you want to do and when you want to do them.
The Lord knows our hearts cry...
You and I have a lot in common intellectually. Our relational life has been different--so far recent friendships haven't ended, but I see one on possible life support and I'm about to write the DNR. I have more to say on what you wrote, but I'm having a terrible time with fatigue. As for where you are, I go through that with Philly, because I'm starting my fourth year here and it still doesn't feel like home, but you knew people when you got there, I really didn't. Soon I'll be going through the porfolio process again, and that will render my final decision. I'll try to comment more when I feel like I actually have thoughts.
As you know, I'm not that deep of a person. My first thought after reading this post was "Yippy! You get to play Settlers!". Glad you're having fun with your students.
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