O Tempora, O Morons

“Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.”

~ Chili Davis

 

I was spending some time with a good friend in Chapters yesterday, browsing through the Kids’ Fiction section – the kind of stories written for children of nine to twelve years.  I discovered a couple of books from my youth that she had also read, and we stood there with Watership Down and Tuck Everlasting and began to reminisce about how profound these books were, and how they dealt with such powerful issues, introducing us to the ideas of tyranny and freedom, reason and blind emotion, the folly of seeking immortality, and so on.  Then we looked at a random selection of the latest in kids’ fiction and found them wanting, compilations of insubstantial fluff bound together and called a novel, that explored nothing of worth and catered only to the whimsical fancies of a new generation.

 

This led the conversation to a discussion of the maturity of our students (my friend is a children’s pastor).  We came to the conclusion that, far from growing up too fast, they aren’t taking the time to grow up at all; while they are exposed to mature themes in modern society – sex, drugs, violence, and so on – they are not developing the maturity to handle it.  The apparent truth of this conclusion came when we talked of decades past, when children were expected to follow in the trade of their parents, when they were educated with what they needed to know to make a decent living and struck out to make a life of their own by the age of fifteen (if not sooner).

 

Certainly, it was a harder life in those times – but a person of eighteen years in that era was an adult, fully independent and mature; a person of eighteen years now is still a child, barely possessing the wherewithal to make wise decisions, let alone build a life for themselves.  Despite the tongue-in-cheek title of this reflection, I don’t think it’s an issue of intelligence but one of preparedness.  Students today are simply not being prepared to become adults; they are coddled and pampered and given choices that they have not earned, and it is ruining their youth.  This is a time that ought to be spent building wisdom, discipline, honor, charity, and a host of other virtues – and instead it is squandered in the pursuit of frivolities that are, ultimately, meaningless.

 

Yes, I know, there are exceptions.  But they make these observations more poignant for the contrast.

 

So what does all this have to do with teaching science?  It is making me question the point of all that we teach in high school science.  The curriculum is content-driven, and while different methods can be used to make it interesting and engaging and fun, I question why we are teaching it at all.  Only a fraction of those who take science classes will remember what they have learned even a year after graduation; of those, another mere fraction will actually put what they have learned to use in further education and industry.  What is the point of making the science curriculum so content-driven when most of the content will be forgotten?

 

The quandary I have is this:  I love science.  I find it fascinating and I enjoy teaching the subject of my fascination to others.  But I would gladly abandon it in favor of teaching students that life doesn’t revolve around them; that they are a spoiled, selfish generation; that if society is ever to rise out of the murk and mire of our times, they just have to grow up.  That’s what they need to learn.  And I just don’t see how teaching science can get them there – it contains a great deal of information, but very little about life.

 

(I really miss teaching life skills to homeless ex-convicts right now.)

 

My only consolation at this point is that the teaching of science will inevitably lead to strong relationships with certain students as the years go by, built upon a shared love of the subject.  Through these relationships I hope to be able to influence and shape these individuals, to help them grow in maturity and wisdom, and to become the people that the world needs.  I have to hold on to the belief that even if there aren’t many good people in the universe, you only need a few.

 

Until I find a way to integrate science and the larger issues of life, science will always take second place to teaching that which is really important.

No Identity

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912) received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.  Nan-in served tea. H e poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring. 

The professor watched the cup overflow until he could not longer restrain himself.  “It’s too full. No more will go in!” 

“Like this cup,” Nan-in replied, “you are too full.  Empty your cup!”

 

While discussing our identities as teachers in one of my seminars, I found myself answering many of the questions in a passive manner, almost non-answers.  I do not have a role model for a good classroom teacher, so that I can better find my own way to teach; I do not claim to know when I know something so that I am always open to correction; I do not have a picture of a good learner in my mind so that I don’t limit other students who do not fit my picture.  It seems a negative or contradictory way of dealing with these interesting questions and I feel the need to clarify.

 

The Japanese have a concept called Mu, which means “emptiness.”  It is used in Zen Buddhism to express ideas such as “no self,” “no ego,” “no permanence,” and so on.  At any rate, the concept behind Mu is to become empty of self, allowing you to actively take in whatever circumstances might come along without any concept of self-identity or ego to get in the way.

 

The thing about identity is that it inherently creates division; the more unique you try to be, the more differences you create between yourself and those around you.  It is only through division that one gains an individual identity.

 

I guess I’m on a journey to experience Mu, to transcend the dualistic distinctions between good and evil, gain and loss, self and other.  This may be largely a spiritual or mystical journey, but it also has practical value – if I seek to have “no self,” there will be nothing to stop me from accepting everyone without judgment; if I seek to have “no ego,” I will not attempt to impose my ideals on others.

 

As teachers, we are commanded to teach specific content to our students, and I intend to do so.  But first and foremost, my responsibility is not to teach content but to empower minds, showing students not what to think but how to think, to help them realize their own potential, to teach them how to inquire into and clarify themselves.  I do not shape my students; I empower them to take the shape they were meant to take.  And to do this, I cannot judge; I must allow them the freedom to become fully themselves, even if what they are destined to become is different from my concept of ideal.

 

I must have no identity so that my students can find theirs.

One Thing

“The one thing that matters is the effort.  It continues, whereas the end to be attained is but an illusion of the climber, as he fares on and on from crest to crest; and once the goal is reached it has no meaning.”

~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

High school curriculum, as dictated by the various programs of study – the government documents that define what must be taught and learned – is not as intimidating as I originally thought it would be.  With planning and imagination, it appears possible to achieve all of the requirements of the curriculum and still provide students with enough time for the process of true learning to take place, learning that will continue to serve the student long after they have graduated and are well into their adult lives.

 

Despite this, however, there seems to be a persistent idea among teachers that the Alberta Education vision statement is an unattainable ideal.  At seven pages, it is a lengthy document as far as vision statements go.  It talks of meeting students’ needs for physical, social, cultural, and psychological security; of engaging parents as well as students in purposeful and meaningful approaches to studies; of contributing to the quality of the school and the community; of preparing students to be productive members of society through careful attention to each individual student.  All this, of course, while teaching the substantial content necessary for students to pass their Grade 12 Diploma Exams. 

 

It is such a grand vision that many view it to be something that looks good on paper but is impossible in practice, a goal that cannot be achieved.  This idea could very well be true.  Meeting the lofty ideals of this vision might be impossible – and that, in my opinion, is a very good thing.  I believe that the best kind of goal is an unattainable one, precisely because it is impossible to attain what is being sought.

 

The problem with goals is that, once they are achieved, people tend to get complacent about them; what was sought has been attained and can now be comfortably forgotten. To have an unattainable goal changes this completely.  It eliminates those who do not have the fortitude to strive for the impossible, leaving only those with a passion for the work in and of itself.  It lessens division and promotes unity, as each individual realizes that there is no longer any need to compete with others on the same path; the self can be forgotten for the sake of harmony among peers.  It abolishes any limitations on expression, since there is no guaranteed way of reaching the goal and thus no guaranteed methods to achieve it, leaving each person free to walk the path in their own way.

 

Perhaps the best part is that any effort that a person puts into striving for the impossible goal is no longer the means to an end.  The end doesn’t really exist.  So the means – the effort itself – becomes everything.  And when the effort is everything, I can pour all of myself into it, purely for the sake of doing a good job.  With an unattainable goal, there is no sense of frustration if it doesn’t work and no sense of personal achievement or entitlement if it does.  There is only the effort itself – and in the end, that’s the one thing that really matters.

A New Direction

“The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year.  It is that we should have a new soul.

~ G. K. Chesterton

 

It’s been a long time since my last entry, and a great deal has changed since then.  I returned to University at the start of this year to get my Bachelor’s in Education with the goal of eventually becoming a high school science teacher, leaving my old job behind – a transition from teacher to student only to become a teacher again.  It’s a very exciting time.

 

My experiences involve both a practicum in a nearby high school and classroom work.  The latter includes the writing of weekly reflective journals that, having submitted four of them, I’ve realized are extensions of my entries here.  They are simply given a different focus – the application of my past understandings in the latest chapter of my life.

 

As I seek to apply what I believe to be true in this new field of experience, it will undoubtedly solidify some ideas while requiring the adaptation of others – an essential part of the search for purpose, perfection, and Truth.  To that end, my journals will provide the content for the entries that follow.

Matters of Faith

“Not everyone believes what you do, Morpheus!” 

“My beliefs do not require them to.”

~ Commander Lock and Morpheus, The Matrix Reloaded

 

It wasn’t until I found myself drawn into a series of discussions about the deeper issues of life and the universe that I realized this about myself.  I don’t know when the seed was first planted or when it began to grow, and I don’t know how much more growth it has before it’s fully mature and whole.  Perhaps it never will be, and perhaps that’s the point. 

 

What I’m talking about is the understanding that I do not need others – nor necessarily even want others – to believe as I do.  Regardless of my beliefs, no matter how strong my conviction or deep my faith, I see it as a good and healthy thing that others do not hold to the same beliefs as I.

 

In the search for Truth, who can say that they ever find it?  Truth, or the Way Things Are, is as eternal as we are mortal, as infinite as we are finite, as magical as we are mundane.  I don’t think we can ever fully grasp it.  So how can I, a mere mortal, say whose beliefs – including my own – are right?  If we all believe the same thing, who can say with certainty that simply because it is popular means that it must be true?  Is it not just as likely that we may all be wrong?

 

It is our differences in belief that matter, because it is through our differences and the discussions that arise from them that we may all come to see life differently, that our worldviews might shift and be changed in subtle ways.  It is through openness and humility that we can open ourselves to the possibility of learning from those around us.  I do not want you to believe as I do, because it is the differences in our beliefs that encourage the kind of discourse that precedes spiritual growth.

 

Simply put, my journey on the path to enlightenment is made swifter by your disbelief.  As I embrace our differences and we continue to speak of those deep, dark ways of the cosmos, I grow closer to understanding the whole.

 

So you see, regardless of who you are and what you believe, I want to hear from you.  If you believe as I do, I find a companion for the journey; if you do not, I find new insights that will enrich my journey in a different way.  Either way, I will honor and respect your beliefs; either way, you are a part of the road that leads to my enlightenment.

 

You do not need to believe as I do.  My beliefs do not require you to.

One Rule

It’s been a while since I last sat down to write…  I can’t say it’s for any good reason, save that I just got preoccupied with living life – and it’s a beautiful one, no matter what circumstances might bring.

 

I’ve been thinking for some time about the way I choose to live, the code of honor I choose to follow.  I’ve long held that what is lawful and what is right are often two entirely different things; virtuous behavior must come from the heart, without coercion, or else it isn’t genuine virtue.  Or, to paraphrase the Tao Te Ching, the moment we need rules to make us act kindly and justly, it is merely an act, and the surest sign that there is no true kindness or justice.  So I’ve lived by my own personal code for quite some time now, but I’ve never tried to write it down or formalize it.

 

It wasn’t until I started trying, about the time of my last entry, that I realized that it all came down to one, single, simple rule.  Saint Augustine said it best:  “Love, and do as you please.”  My one rule.

 

If I genuinely love someone – and I’m not talking about mere eros, here, although it may certainly be relevant…  I’m talking about love in its totality, including the aspects of charity, of affection, of friendship – I can do no wrong.  Love places the needs and desires of another above those of the self.  I would never lie to those I truly love, nor seek to harm them in any way; I would seek to bring about what is good for them without regard for myself.

 

If I genuinely love my community, I can weigh the merit of my actions by how they benefit all of the people whose lives I touch.  I would seek to give of my time and effort to build up the community, through acts of service or hospitality, lending my best qualities to the edification of all.

 

If I genuinely love myself, I can know my limits and respect them.  I would know when I have given enough of myself to need time for solitude and meditation, knowing also that burning out does not benefit anyone.  I would know when to rest so that I could return to the community feeling refreshed and rejuvenated and able to love them fully and without reservation or condition.

 

The trick is, of course, to live by this one rule.  It’s much easier to talk about than to actually live…  but then, even if never get it perfectly right, at least I’ve got something to strive for.

 

Here’s to love.

The Balance

“One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it.”

~ Master Oogway, Kung Fu Panda

 

I had an epiphany today.

 

I was deep in discussion with a friend at work about the subject of decision and destiny – the same paradox that I wrote of in my last entry – when an answer came to me in a flash of clarity and insight.  It was so sudden that I think I might even have stopped in mid-sentence.  I realized at that moment where the balance lies between the opposing forces of fate and free will.

 

I’m just not sure if I can express it in words.  But I’m certainly going to try.

 

I see the universe as a cosmic tapestry, a work of art, each thread woven into just the right place and pattern to create a beautiful and harmonious whole.  I see everything, great and small, forming part of a grand cosmic design – some parts in order, some in chaos, but all in their right places, all against a backdrop of perfect harmony.  The destiny of all things is to take their appointed place in this tapestry to maintain the harmony of the whole.

 

Now let us bring humanity into the picture.  I see the life of each and every person as a single thread…  not just any kind of thread, though; a thread with conscience, which can choose where it will be woven into the tapestry of the cosmos.  (I can also see the possibility that other entities have the same choices to make, from pebbles to trees to oceans to stars, and that they have simply chosen not to choose any differently.  But that is another matter entirely.)

 

This brings about a different vision.  I see the tapestry obscured by the movement of thousands of millions of individual threads, each seeking their place, trying to decide where they wish to be woven in to the fabric of the cosmos.  Like everything else, the destiny of each of us is to find a place that will maintain the harmony of the cosmic pattern – looking at both the tapestry that was here before us, and the movement of the other threads around us.

 

Destiny becomes dynamic, then, a fluid entity that is as alive as you and I.  My destiny is to find a place of harmony with the universe and everyone around me, and that will change with every choice that any of us makes.  Your choices become my circumstances; to be in harmony with my circumstances is my destiny; to follow the path of my destiny is my choice; and my choice is your circumstance.

 

At any given point in time, my destiny is to find the place of greatest harmony.  In the Book of Ecclesiastes, Solomon – lauded in the Bible as one of the wisest men of his time, or perhaps of all times – said it best:

 

There is an appointed time for everything.  And there is a time for every event under heaven:  A time to give birth and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.  A time to kill and a time to heal; a time to tear down and a time to build up.  A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.  A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.  A time to search and a time to give up as lost; a time to keep and a time to throw away.  A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; a time to be silent and a time to speak.  A time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace.

 

With each passing moment, my destiny changes; the path that I am meant to walk depends on my circumstances, and the actions that I should take are those that bring me into perfect harmony with the universe and with others.  There is no good or evil.  There is simply that which brings one into harmony with my circumstances, and that which does not.

 

So I choose the path of harmony.  I choose to accept my destiny.  And therein I find the balance that I seek.