Hidden Wholeness: Paradoxes

I found this chapter to be the most grounded in practical, immediate application so far. I certainly related to Palmer's own "good" class - "bad" class paradox.  As mentioned before, I once taught two sections of the same class with completely different results (same materials, syllabus . . . .). Reading the evaluations by the students of the two sections revealed two glaringly different perspectives: 1) I was the greatest teacher ever or 2) I stunk. A true paradox in teaching. Unlike Palmer, I didn't reflect at all on what I learned from the evaluations from the "bad" class. Sad to say, I simply ignored those and glowed in the positive reviews.

For me, beyond that, one of the greatest paradoxes which I have found in teaching is the one in which we as teachers must teach the class as a whole -- cover "X" amount of materials in a certain time versus reaching, somehow touching, the inner knowledge and anima of each inidividual student.  This is a continual quandry.

I also found the last section of the chapter most salient. I recall teaching (in a situation as Palmer observed), when I asked a question, waited for a response, got none and jumped in trying to "remedy" the silence, only to
sink further in pedagogical muck. From this example Palmer concludes with the need for higher self to cope.
I think herein lies the most relevant comments for teaching in Catholic schools.  His reflections on endurance vis-a-vis suffering stemming from the "tension of opposites" -- actively embracing of it -- is most profound. To make sense of suffering is one of central tennents of Catholicism. As Paul writes on suffering in Romans, 5: 3-5: "[W]e also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perserverance; perserverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not dissappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us."

I have this week's assignment of the teaching experience for this Chapter. The reflections I would ask of you in preparation for this are: share in the next class 1) one passage or example from Scriptures, etc., on suffering/one that you might use or emphasize in class and 2) an example, not mentioned before, of a significant paradox you have found in your own teaching. Thanks!

Culture of Fear

Just when I thought the readings couldn't get better . . . . This whole chapter, Culture of Fear, is remarkable ~ from the sequences on fear to the student from hell ~ to be not afraid. Palmer just hits it.

I would like to focus on his discussion of Barbara McClintock vis-a-vis ojectivisim versus subjectivity. The fact that McClintock did not objectify her subject ~ the genious of her knowing being love ~ is quite revelational, considering the fact-based nature of science. Her approach opened avenues of understanding of genes never before considered. This reminds me of a marine-biologist whom I once heard speaking about coral polyps. He loving referred to them as individuals, placing a whole new spin on my appreciation and respect of coral as separate and special creatures.

Applying these thoughts to my own experience in teaching family public policy for the second time, once I overcame the fear of venturing into the unknown realm of set curriculum and incorporated such specific topics such as the impact on U.S. Japanese-American families of internment in camps during World Wat II,  I began to teach more relevantly. I happened to be extremely interested in the internment, and my concern/outrage over it lead to some of my best teaching.  With this inclusion, public policy was no longer just pages with statistics; it captured the students' imagination and deepened their understanding of its meaning and value of public policy when it protects human rights. In sum, fear definitely constricts us; but, as Palmer advocates "we do not need to be our fear."

Courage: Heart, Identity & Integrity

First, on teaching and the true self, with focus on integrity and the story of Eric and Alan and the divided self: In ancient Norse traditional beliefs, the symbol of Mannaz, stood for Self. Here it was said that a correct relationship to the Self is the fount from which all else flows, all possible relationships with others and the Divine. Similarly, traditional Hawaiians maintained the belief of Pohaku (stones, relations), as reflected in the saying  that there is life and death in the stone. This means that healthy relationships can nurture, heal, inspire, and give purpose, belonging, and identity. Unhealthy ones can drain, depress, alienate, confuse and reduce self-esteem. (Believe I have mentioned this before.)

These concepts continually arose as I read about identity, integrity and the brothers. I was struck by the universality and timelessness of the fundamental truth of self-knowledge. Eric ~ a house divided ~ could not thrive in an environment to which his soul was mismatched. What I especially liked in the readings on this point was Palmer's casting Eric's situation not in a negative sense focused on Eric's failing as a teacher, but, rather, in one of a natural outcome of not truly being kindred with his work.

                                                                  

 Also, Palmer's observations about the mutuality of mentors and students and wrong lessons from mentors are very-well taken.  The phrase "wrong lessons" from mentors truly sticks in my mind. I once took several classes from a teacher whom I greatly admired as a prof. and mentor. The problem was, as outstanding as he was, the teacher was highly emotional and would frequently bring his moods into the classroom. This would throw students off ~ was he mad at or disapproving of them when he arrived in a bad mood? ~ the students would wonder.  He was a wonderful teacher, but confusing, very at times: mixed messages, not a good idea.

                           

                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                         

Further, Palmer's discussion of sociological imagination and perception was fascinating. What amazes me about Palmer in this discussion, as throughout Chapter 1, is his ability to identify the "backstage reality," and the "invisible structures," "secret signals," and "invisible puppeteers," and contradictions in perceptions ~ those "hidden" elements ~ that so  impact a teacher within and without.  In addition, the concept that a vocation not "mine" actually violates the Self and those with whom the Self works is revelational. Such a strong statement seems neccessary as it concerns the deepest stratum of our being, upon which our destiny is founded. The very premise of our spirit, our mission,  is at stake here.

In the beginning ~~ foreward & intro.

The metaphor which comes to mind of the inner journey of which Palmer speaks and his thoughts expressed in these first few pages is one of a building ~ its foundations and materials. While by no means a discourse in stream of consciousness, Palmer's insights explore, just as Durka did, many fundamental, if not elusive concepts, in just a few pages.
These will be the building blocks of our more sensitive, perceptive, and successful teaching.

Also, Palmer's inner landscape seems like the foundation and interior of the home that is our Self; each component, each material ~ the intellect, emotion & spirit ~ holding, binding us together and creating the whole, our integrity, and making possible a beautiful edifice. Our students readily see and perceive this edifice, which, if faulty within, has obvious cracks.

Metaphor aside, I feel that the issue of the role of trust looms very largely in Palmer's discussion and has also surfaced, repeatedly, in our class. I hope that Palmer continues to examine this in depth and provide specific pointers on how to create, nurture and sustain trusting relationships in our teaching.

Vulnerabilities & Possibility

As I read these final chapters in Durka, I couldn't help but think of the image of a canoe and a voyage, especially after Durka's comments about teaching as a journey. The images to the left here are ancient Hawaiian petroglyphs, for me symbolic of such a journey, or the voyage. Teachers surf the waters of vulnerability, both inwardly and outwardly; paddle through the uncharted waters of new semesters, students, parents and administrators; and seek or fish for answers and guidance. A teacher's life is about exploring, and discovering, and changing course while traveling through uncharted waters and changing conditions. It is all about constant transition, and at times, detours. Sometimes all a teacher can do is choose a direction, chart the path and let the winds blow him or her where they may. In all of these circumstances faith & spirituality sustain; prayer abides and is actually the sea upon which a teacher must sail.

Another thought surfaces. I reflect back to the ancient Hawaiians, not about their polytheistic religion, but about their complete integration of prayer in every daily activity, from eating to working to song and dance. They had a practice for conflict resolution called Ho'oponopono, which began with and ended in prayer. They knew then that spirituality had to inform all activity, just as we Roman Catholics do in a constant, open and reaffirming way in our schools. Prayer is the gravamen of teaching "how to live well" and the way we satisfy our "basic hunger for goodness" which is the heart and soul of Catholicism.

On a different plane, Durka's quote of Elliot (p. 74) about paradoxes, truly presents the teacher's plight. I feel that the author's meaning here is that we teachers must work with a clear mind, unencumbered by weighty preconceptions and always open to the new, the blank, the land of uncertainty.

Further, the way that the verse is written reminds me of the Prayer of Saint Francis, in which the focus is not egocentric, but solely the understanding and benefit of others. This to me is the key for Catholic teaching and living.

Finally I just want to say how much I have enjoyed and gleaned from reading Durka. I think a teacher's role in imparting spirituality is profound, mysterious, enduring, and, something not easily defined. Durka does a wonderful job in clarifying and promoting what that role entails.

Wisely and morally

Teaching Wisely: There we find the comment on loading information into the student and the mechanical, impersonal process involved. This lead me to think about, again, how I learned when I was younger.

I attended Catholic schools from K-12 (and then undergrad.!). This was during an earlier era when passive teaching was the norm. Those lessons were drilled into me. Still, just like the poems I mentioned last week, their impact lasted a lifetime and served me beyond measure throughout all the changes in career and life since. A example was my first year history teacher in high school, Sister Marietta, a Dominican. She taught us how to outline and required that all notes be taken in outlining format. Tests required some answering in outline. What incredible practice and discipline were involved!

Learning outlining was one of the greatest intellectual gifts I have ever received. It taught me both critical and analytic thinking, deductive reasoning in pure form. So, for me, the mechanical, passive learning process was a winner in this class, and just about all the rest of them. Just my penny's worth on the benefits of the "old" style teaching. Still, I am glad to be in the modern era of teaching; there is so much more we can do now.

This dovetails to Durka's comments on authority and making demands on students. (Ch. 5) These follow the preceding paragraphs in which the wonderful words "caring," "accuracy," "fidelity," and "good faith" are found. I am reminded here of an early scene in Robert Redford's film, "A River Runs Through It." In it, a Protestant minister teaches his son to write, and insists that the boy rewrite his English lessons, over and over, until the page on which the boy is writing has about 5 words left. In a voice-over, the boy, an eventual Pulitizer Prize winner, simply says: "And that is how I learned to write the English language."

Concerning teaching values and morals, I reflect on the challenge that that presents in a secular school environment, where I have done my teaching. Unlike Catholic schools predicated on the fostering of faith in every endeavor, secular schools somehow must get across the concepts of values, without emphasis on faith in the specific context. Still, I found ways to incorporate the role of Catholicism and the values it embodies.

In one case, for a political science class I taught (comparative systems), I included readings on the Church's role in European history, from the fall of the Roman Empire to the founding of the great European universities during the Middle Ages. We delved into the philosophy of the great Saint Thomas Aquinas. Actually, this review of Church history in Europe wasn't that hard to incorporate because the text I chose, one by a very well-known author, spent several chapters on this, even though it was not a book written for a Catholic audience.

In the same class, I also showed the film "The Mission," starring Jeremy Irons and Robert Di Nero. The students seemed to love analyzing this film, and identifying the values and moral choices depicted it. I believe that through this class coverage values were taught, fidelity maintained.

Teaching Courageously and Creatively

"She is a friend of my mind."

This quote was my favorite (one of many) in the readings. Reading it made me reflect on my 7th and 8th grade teacher, Sister Loretto. Sister incorporated teaching poetry in our class and made it a substantial part of it. This had to be courageous. No other teachers covered poetry, and, those were the days of strict, hierarchical, truly "by the book" instruction.

Sister Loretto taught poetry very creatively as well. Not only did we read it, but also we recited it in poetry competitions or acted the verses if we could. This was one of the great learning experiences of my life. It instilled in me a great, lasting love of poetry and allowed me to appreciate English (and language in general) in a more profound way. Further, it opened my mind and spirit to a keener perception of the world, whether it was "stopping by the woods on a snowy evening," viewing "the daffodils," or "crossing the bar." (The above picture depicts shelves with poetry books!)

Another gift Sister Loretto imparted was the poetry of the psalms. For a young lady, seeing the Bible as beautiful, spiritual writing rather than a heavy, ponderous, unapproachable book was a tremendous awakening. Sister's teaching truly followed the path of humanization on many levels.

Another thought arose as I was reading. This was triggered by the stories of Howie and the graduate student's dad. For me, these demonstrate how fundamental it is for teachers and students to look beyond the surface of people and not to judge, not to judge ever, those who we truly don't know. This is even more of an imperative for teachers in a Catholic environment, where it is a spiritual mandate to view students with the deep spirituality emanating from compassion. The nun didn't know the full story of Howie; the son angrily and judgmentally wrote of his dad. In the first case, the nun's understanding of Howie increased expotentially when she learned of his circumstances. In the second case, I believe the son's perception of his dad would improve if he truly knew of the father's early background (not specifically mentioned) which may have been filled with abuse or neglect.

The overall readings and in particular these stories illustrate that valid, full information leads to true understanding. True understanding then leads to the spiritual view of the individual, the totality of the soul and being.