Teaching @ MindSay

When I teach middle schoolers the Bible, it can be a real challenge.  A challenge I relish, understand, but a challenge.  Not because they're "that age" or "act like that," or anything. It's because many of these kids have heard the Word of God so often, all their lives, that they do not ask themselves what it means beyond overall "do what is right" or "don't do what you know is wrong."  (Yes, they get a bit more specific than that, but this is a broad generalization.)

Which is why it is, to me, enlightening to discuss what some words and phrases mean with them when I teach them.  They haven't thought about what these words MEAN, only what they should make them do.  And really, knowing the meaning of words is important.  Yes, those results are necessary, but when one has a better grasp of the "what" the "how" is often made more plain.  At least, in my experience.


I helped teach the "children's part" of a family seminar at church this past weekend.  Any time you have one of these, the above verse will be part of what you teach the kids.  Now, I was supposed to have fifth graders.  No fifth graders came. Instead, I got middle schoolers that parents felt were too young to go to the "regular" seminar and too young to stay home alone for hours and hours.  Why no other provision was made for this age at church, I don't know. But they came to me.

Which, of course, was extremely cool.  They're my best group. :)  I was allowed to modify some of the stuff we were doing (on the fly, which is always fun, but I got my first Varsity letter for Impromptu Speaking in competitive forensics...) and we spent Friday evening and Saturday morning hanging out together while their parents were in the main seminar.

So. We had that verse.  Honor your father and mother.  "What's that mean?" I asked the kids.

"Um. Obey."

First thing out of their mouths. Obey.

Nothing wrong with obedience, you understand. And yes, the Lord God Almighty does appreciate it when we do obey...but...that's not the end-all, be-all meaning of "honor your father and mother."

"What does it mean to show honor?"  I asked my group.  Honor is a word that comes up and I consider it to be a personally important concept, after all.  Has no one taught these young people what it means?

They hemmed and hawed and looked at one another uncomfortably. And then, one of the lads sat up straight and offered me a salute.  "Honor!" he said, a goofy look on his freckled face.

Thing was...he was right.  And it was my great pleasure to show him.

What did he do? He presented his best self in that salute. (Even though he was messing around, the kids understood "salute.")  He was tall, straight, and focused.  He presented me, his teacher, with the best self he had, and gave me his undivided attention.  Even if only for the time it took for me to grin at him.

See, he'd given the others something to take away with them.  Not that they should salute their parents, as I told them, but that when we show someone -- anyone -- honor, we should present them with the best we have, give them our focused attention and...then...sure, we should obey if they request it. But that other stuff should be there with or without the need for immediate obedience.

So, a middle-schooler's goofing off moment turned into one of the coolest moments of my Friday night.  I love it when kids toss stuff like that out.

The boy, when I had used his example as "the" example of this word, and incorporated all of the above into a lesson on how to interact with our parents, could only say, "Wow."

Gee, I wonder if he's had any experience with this... (it actually broke my heart when I found this poem today.  Everyone wrote things similar to this, but this one, especially knowing that he is ALWAYS being picked on...)

BULLIES - by Chris

Bullies
Unreasonable
Lawless
Languish
Ignorant
Enemies
Sad

And now, I feel completely justified that I went on for SIX PAGES this weekend about 'Chris would do better, have confidence, and finally learn to read if he was in a classroom where kids didn't beat him up and make him feel terrible all the time'.

I hate that I'm NOT Superwoman; that I am acutally pretty powerless to save my kids from these terrible situations.  That I will compliment them to no end, and then they go home and have a mother who calls them stupid.  That William can write a poem with the line '4 sisters and a brother who is up in heaven' and that the brother's suicide anniversary is right about now, or that one of my boys hasn't been seen in 2 weeks because he has to be on medication to rid him of the skin disease he contracted from not bathing...
I wish people would stop reading People Magazine and wasting money on designer clothes and instead help fix the school systems.  To stop and think about what is REALLY important in life.

I am currently working on several paper presentations and a possible book regarding the pedagogy of humanity.  This work has not been completely thought out and articulated, but I hope through discussions and presentations that I will be able to refine ideas and culminate them into a succinct discourse.  My goal is to start developing teacher materials through rethinking schools or another publisher that shares the same vision for what I am trying to work on.  As I have said in discussions, what can we say that hasn't been said?  What we strive for is the right prescritpion (combination of philosophy and thoughts) for the right time that will address issues appropriately.  Life is a process, a path, and an experiment.

Antonio Garcia

Indiana University 

I feel it necessary to write about the semi-breakdown I just had about an hour and a half ago, mainly because I want to write about why I'm bounced-back from it.

I had a CIP meeting tonight.  CIP is the Critical Inquiry Project, a group designed to help teach social-justice education.  This group is comprised of a favorite professor of mine, Bree, and 5 other people who I graduated NYU with:  Dan, Emily M (As I am Emily E in all conversations since we're both there), Val, Veronica, and Symone.  The first 4 I mentioned are first year teachers:  Dan and Em have 5th graders, Veronica is a K teacher in a Catholic school, and Val is sort of teaching a mix of pre-k and k at another Catholic school.  Symone had a semester at NYU to finish up but is now a pretty full-time sub at the pre-k center SHE went to all those years ago.  I am the only one who is not teaching; I am in a classroom (well, THREE classrooms/FOUR classrooms at THREE schools technically if I count my fun week with Seth's class) 5 days a week, but I am there as an observer, a student teacher, and a tutor.

CIP has been everything.  We hear how the classroom teachers (5) implement these amazing complex units (Val teaching her kids about poverty, Dan and his fair-trade chocolate, Veronica teaching her kids about gender) that aren't part of a typical curriculum, we plan how we can go next, we share resources, we learn from Bree who is infinitely wise and helpful and straightforward, and we support each other through tough times.  First year teaching is notorious for breaking people down, and I hate knowing that my friends are going through things like this, but they all agree going to CIP is helpful not just because it helps plan the SJE (social justice education) stuff or make them stick to it, but it's a gathering of 6 other people we respect and trust and know care about our well being.  Many times 'check-in' becomes a bitch-fest, a spot to talk about what's wrong, a chance for all of us to offer a hug, a tissue, or a suggestion.  Sometimes it's just the only place we feel safe admitting certain things, and don't need anything more than the chance to say whatever it is we're thinking.

Tonight, Bree gave us an article about the stages first year teachers go through, and she asked us to read it, see if it was true, and how the group affected (effected? will I EVER learn when to use which?) these figures.   Well, everything about this article rang true for me, even though I am not a first  year teacher (see above).  The anxiety, both good and bad, the fears, the doubts in my ability, the impending pressure, the hard moments, the changes in or deviations from the plan...these are all things that make my heart freeze up.  I am a worrier.  I do fret about things that aren't a big deal (like the time I let it slip to David that GPI had left?  I didn't sleep that weekend, and it was never addressed ONCE), but they are real fears of mine.  This has been a dream of mine for so long, but you can dream all you want, it doesn't mean it will come TRUE.  I don'yt want to just be in a classroom.  I'm idealistic; I want to make a difference.  I want my kids to actually get things...more than just math or how to write an essay.  That's what CIP is.  But then I get so frazzled because I know I'm a pushover and if an administrator questions me and my planning, I AM going to take it to heart, I am going to redo everything, I am going to comply, and I'm not going to embody what the group is...and if I don't teach SJE my first year, will I the second?  Will I ever?

All of this pressure, the whole being sick thing, the fact that Relay is SATURDAY, the fact that I don't have a job lined up, the fact that I have huge final projects looming (one is due MONDAY AFTER RELAY) that I have no idea where I'm going with, the fact that CIP's trip to Chicago I won't be at 2 meetings leading up to it and also as a non-teacher contribute so little to it as it is... I just started crying.

This is not new.  I am a cryer.  I have been a cryer my whole life; NEVER for attention like 'oh if I cry, someone will look at me', or to get out of trouble.  It's just what happens.  There is something in my body where things, happy, sad, depressing, stressful, hilarious, sentimental.... I feel them stronger than other people, or different, or whatever it is, but I start welling up.  And I was trying to not make it obvious (this was just eye-leakage and a little need to wipe my  nose, no noise) because I didn't want to focus on that, but Bree kept asking if I was okay and I nodded.  But we finally shifted the attention to it, and I cried more, and let the group know my fear; that I'm going to cave to the administration and do my kids a huge disservice in the process, as well as let my groupmates down.

And they were amazing.  I knew they would be.  To start, if they weren't in my top 5 people when we graduated (the way I hung out with Val all the time, or had my strange but perfect relationship with Dan), I have grown closer to the people in this group than other people a  year ago who I don't get to see now.  They pointed out that things I was feeling, thinking...they're universal.  And Dan had things to say about me carrying him through undergrad, and my scheduling, and Val mentioned my classroom plans which Em said was a good thing to have planned already, and Bree mentioned that when she went to Dan's class the day after I was there, the kids were like 'oh, you're not Emily'...and while I don't think that's all going to prove I'm going to be good at this (what it proves is I focus on details too much and that kids LIKE me, a fact I've known since I was 5), but hearing that these very capable, very honest people believe in me...it means a lot.  It really does.  Even if they were just being nice and trying to calm me down (they've all dealt with crying Emily of various stages/reasons), they did it.  They were the best support group anyone could ever ask for.  And that's probably why CIP is so critical for us; not just instruction (which I will need a LOT of next year), but people like Val to tease me, Bree to somehow make what I was warbling an intelligent, justifiable thing, Dan to give me a hug and threaten that if I cry again he'll kill me, and someone to squeeze my hand and let me know I'll be okay.

So I'll be okay.

Rebel against it, respect it, heed it, ignore it...  People have all sorts of responses to authority.

It's an unusual quality. An intangible that carries with it some very tangible results.  Forced authority is harsh, uncaring, brittle.  True authority is deep, strong, quiet.  It doesn't have to make an issue out of itself. It just has to speak.

Too often, I think, people assume a mantle of authority to which they have no right.  You'll hear them in front of classrooms and boardrooms, on the field and in front of cameras. People who have to try -- and they do! -- to convince you they do indeed have authority.

Yet these people do not truly possess that intangible quality.  If they have to proclaim they possess it, they don't have it at all.  No, it is the quiet look, the firm hand, the decisive acceptance of a task or position and following through on all implied ramifications that make for authority.

Authority.  How did Jesus teach that was so very different from how the usual scribes taught from Scripture?  He did not, likely, shout or sweat a lot or use violent body language in order to get his point across.  He taught as one having authority. As having the right and responsibility to share what was in the Scripture with those who were listening. And they did listen. They were amazed. 

I imagine he spoke in love. Compassion. And when his eyes met the eyes of the congregants, they could tell he was sincere.  Did they see the profound wisdom in his  eyes? I don't know. But I do know they sensed it. 

They weren't the only ones.

Mark relates here, in this ever-active gospel, that Jesus was confronted by a possessed man. The "unclean spirit" within the man knew Jesus.  Knew him well.  Proclaimed his identity, in fact, before the entire congregation.  Instead of bowing, smiling and saying, "Yep, that's me, you just tell the people, here,  who I am so they'll listen and support me and my friends," Jesus told the unclean spirit to be quiet and to leave the man alone.

Of course, his authority was absolute and the spirit left. Loudly.

Again, the people were amazed.  First, Jesus had taught as if he were utterly familiar with the material, without making an issue of it, and then he told an unclean spirit to leave.  No hokus-pokus.  No fancy ritual. Just the sheer  authority of who he was -- whom he was recognized to be! -- was enough.

Jesus got to be really popular. But this wasn't always a good thing, as we'll read later.

Authority.  Those who saw Jesus in the flesh knew he had it.  Those who heard him speak.  Those who did not wish to obey him were still compelled to do so, simply by that intangible quality.  Thing is, we are given free will, as human beings.  Freedom to choose to follow the definite authority of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.  We can still read what he said.  We can pray and seek to feel his authoritative presence in our own lives.

But do we submit to that authority? 

Jesus will not scream and shout and wave his hands around and sweat and promise happiness and health and peace and safety in your life as a bribe to get you to heed him.  His authority is the quiet authority of a gentleman on his own property -- unquestioned by him and his servants. 

Are you a servant of the Lord?  Have you encountered that authority before? Have you accepted his authority with your will free to choose?