Month: August 2008

  • Pretending

    Pretending is another name for dividedness, a state that keeps us from cultivating the capacity for connectedness on which good teaching depends.  When we pretend, we fall out of community with ourselves, our students, and the world around us, our of communion with the common center that is both the root and the fruit of teaching at its best. 

    Community cannot take root in a divided life. 

    To teach is to create a space in which the community of truth is practiced.

    College motto - "The pursuit of truth in the company of friends."

    ~ Parker J. Palmer

  • What Makes A Good Teacher?

    I hope reading the title of this post immediately puts a picture in your mind of that special teacher who opened your eyes, who connected with you, who drew out of you something you didn't know was there, who made you do/think more than you believed possible.  I've been reading The Courage to Teach to motivate me as I transition to my role as teacher.  Here are some quotes to ponder.

    This book builds on a simple premise: good teaching cannot be reduced to technique; good teaching comes from the identity and integrity of the teacher. [my emphasis]

    Good teachers join
        »  self and
        »  subject and
        »  students
    in the fabric of life. 

    Good teachers possess a capacity for connectedness.  They are able to weave a complex web of connections among themselves, their subjects, and their students so that students can learn to weave a world for themselves.  [Yes, yes!  I want to grow life long learners.]

    As good teachers weave the fabric that joins them with students and subjects, the heart is the loom on which the threads are tied, the tension is held, the shuttle flies, and the fabric is stretched tight.  Small wonder, then, that teaching tugs at the heart, opens the heart, even breaks the heart--and the more one loves teaching, the more heartbreaking it can be.

    The courage to teach is the courage to keep one's heart open in those very moments when the heart is asked to hold more than it is able so that teacher and students and subject can be woven into the fabric of community that learning and living require.

  • 7 Short Book Reviews

    Read by request:


     I have to credit Eugene Peterson for his persuasive endorsement. It propelled this book into a national bestseller.  I don't, however, share his evaluation.
     
    The Shack tells an emotional tale of a family hit by tragedy and the road to healing afterwards.  Many readers connect with the emotion at a deep level. That makes it dicey to criticize the book.  The problem with the book is its theology.  It is outside orthodoxy.  Here is a review worth reading.


                                                                                                                                                                            
    If I wasn't a Christian I would love Three Cups of Tea.  What Greg Mortenson accomplished in establishing dozens of schools in Pakistan is truly remarkable.  As a Christian, however, I cannot swallow the pluralism and pragmatism (and I realize that I'm not representing all Christians in this statement). 

    Mortenson sings "What A Friend We Have in Jesus" one night while he fights to stay alive; later he kneels and prays to Allah.  I think he would do anything to help the poor including praying to any god(s). He is a secular savior.  A friend remarked, "It's just a great story - it's not a spiritual journey."  But isn't all of life a spiritual journey? 

    World War I reading:

    Each title in this series is a phrase from a WWI poem. The storyline follows an English family of four grown siblings: a mum/housewife, a chaplain, a spy, and a young woman who drives an ambulance in France.  Perry, a convicted murderer at age 15 who later became LDS, doesn't shy from hard questions.  Where is God in all of this?  What am I capable of doing?  How do we go on?  I don't think Perry is up to P.D. James as a mystery writer, but the books engaged my interest.

    Not an easy book to process, All Quiet on the Western Front is valuable as a first person account of a German soldier.   It is hard not to become numbed by the horror in the trenches, in the hospitals, and back at home.  I'm glad I didn't read it in high school.  I don't think I had the maturity to handle it then.


    As I was reading about WWI, I often wondered what the trenches look like today.  Stephen O'Shea, author of Back to the Front: An Accidental Historian Walks the Trenches of WWI made a walking tour of the 500 mile Western Front.  I found this opinionated travelogue and macro history an absorbing read.  O'Shea used a term new to me -- war p*rn -- to describe displays of  photographs of atrocities.  Quote: "Munitions are this region's marble, a mineral resource that is available in limitless quantities."  Word Bird find: Artesian = from Artois    


    Easily the best book in today's post, The Zimmerman Telegram displays Barbara Tuchman's great skill as a historian and writer.  This book answers the question, Why did Woodrow Wilson lead the United States into WWI?  I never knew Pancho Villa was bankrolled by the German government.  This intrigue of diplomacy, spying, code-breaking, and politics reads better than any spy novel or thriller I've ever read.  Highly recommended.

    Albert Marrin is an author I hold in high respect.  The Yanks Are Coming makes a great text book for studying the role of the United States in World War I.  The many pictures, maps and other illustrations are excellent complements to the prose.  The limited scope of the book doesn't tell the whole story of WWI so I wouldn't recommend it as the only source of info on The Great War.  My son and I both enjoyed reading it. Highly recommended.

       

     

  • Bored? Lethargic?

    Today's best quote (and it is only 7:17 a.m.) comes from a book review of Kathleen Norris' newest book Acedia & Me.   Acedia comes from the Greek and means, literally, absence of caring.  It is also defined as spiritual torpor, ennui, apathy.  Carmen Acevedo Butcher ended her review with these words.

    In the end her remedies for acedia are simple: 
    Go for a walk. 
    Memorize Scripture. 
    Sing Psalms. 
    Seek community. 
    Worship. 
    Shovel manure. 
    Dust a bookshelf. 
    Wash dishes. 
    Study. 
    Read. 
    Write. 
    And be kind to one another.

  • Eyes Wide Open

    Happy Birthday, Carson!

    How can I describe you, my zany, exuberant, full of zest, Sonny Boy?  In looking through some pictures I'm struck with how big your eyes are, as if they can't open wide enough to take it all in.  You came into this world ready to party: bring it on, Mama. 

    You also came into your world eager to know it, to discover it, to dominate it.  Your powers of observation rival Grandpa's; your curiosity about the way things worked nearly always got you into trouble. 

    You wouldn't remember the fateful trip to Yakima when you first discovered how to unlock the seatbelt that kept you in your booster seat. I'll never forget it.  No warnings, no reproaches, no spankings, no blisterings could keep your itchy fingers from pushing that button once more to see what happened.  Your young mind comprehended the consequences, but you were completely willing to pay the price to press the button, hear the click and watch the seatbelt unbuckle.  Your Aunt Margo and I stuttered our way down the highway in two mile increments. Never have I pulled the car over on the shoulder more in one trip. Your tolerance of pain has always been high, but your love of delight has always been higher.  

    I admire the risk taker in you.  You did well playing soccer as a goalie because you were willing to take risks and go after the ball.  When the opportunity came to work on a salmon boat you jumped in! You ride motorcycles, climb mountains, ride boards with names I can't keep up with, and you navigate Seattle traffic like a New York cab driver. 

    You have become an excellent older brother, both to Collin and your brothers by marriage.  You are a  sounding board, a willing listener; you take a genuine interest.  When the phone rings and "It's Carson!" you know your brother and I are both competing for the opportunity to talk to you.

    I can't wait, Sonny, to see you as a Daddy.  I'll probably have to close my eyes when you start your little guy riding bikes at 3 months, but I know that you will  follow in the footsteps of your Dad and Grandpa as an earthly model of our Heavenly Father.

    I love this picture and I only know two of the subjects: you and your Grandpa.  It shows the you I love.  The willing joiner, the connector, the young man who takes an interest in other folk.  When I drove you around town back then, you would identify people all along the way. "Oh, there's Stan...  Wait!  I know that girl... Is that Joey across the street?  (quick roll the window down)  Hi Joey!  That was Rhonda who drove by us.  Hey, I think that's Josh's friend." 

    When I told Bob about your friends coming backpacking his response was, "Carson, the Pied Piper."  I hope you continue to grow as a leader.  And, by the way, I really like your friends.  I expect they will be life-long companions to you and Taryn like Jack and Lisa have been to us. A steady friend through life is a priceless gift.

    Happy Birthday, Sonny.  May you continue to grow in grace and wisdom and knowledge of the Lord.

    Love,

    Mom
         


  • A Confession

    I love to play with matches.

    I love to:
        1.    light one match (preferably wooden "light anywhere"), and with that flame light a second match;    
        2.    blow the first one out (watch the smoke curlicue), light it with the second's flame;
        3.   blow the second one out (fascinated by the smoke curlicue), light it with the first's flame;
        4.   repeat 2. and 3. until the only place left to hold the match is the previously burned part.

    The whole point about creating a lot a curlicue smoke is to cover, ahem, unpleasant odors. 

    One day, years ago, our middle son casually announced at the dinner table that he discovered that Lysol is flammable.  On a visit to my sister's house he was playing with matches, experimenting by extinguishing a match with Lysol.  To his surprise and delight, the flame flared.  He dropped the match in the toilet, filed the new fact about flammability in his head, and forgot it for a few months until it surfaced while we ate dinner.  My sister's house never burned down. The mercy of the Lord never ceases...

    After that revelation, we replaced all the matches in our bathrooms with air freshener.

    Now that the same pyromaniac son has been gone from our home for five years, and we are looking for economy in every corner, the matches have re-appeared.  And I have re-discovered the simple (no longer) secret joy of playing with matches.   

  • Sanction: Two Meanings

    I was writing a policies and procedures manual yesterday; I was required to include a section on sanctions.  Hmmm, I thought, I need to review this word.  What I discovered made my day!

    Sanction comes from the root word sanctus (to make holy) and has two opposite meanings.  Two completely different meanings which come from one source.  There is fodder here, my friends. 

    Sanction is one of three words in English which have two contradictory meanings. 

        Sanction:  1.  to allow, encourage   -   Do you sanction sloppiness?
                        2.  to punish so as to deter  -    Do you sanction sloppiness?

        Dust:         1.  to remove dust from   - I need to dust my wood floors.
                         2.  to put dust on  - I will dust the cake with powdered sugar.

        Trim:         1.  to cut something away  -  I need to trim my slideshow.
                         2.  to add something as an ornament  - Would you trim the tree?

    I am reminded of the homonyms raise and raze which have opposite meanings: to build up and to tear down.  So if you hear someone say he is going to [raise/raze] a house, you wouldn't really know what was going to happen, would you? 

    Words.  Intoxicatingly wonderful.

    ***Addendum*** Ruthie mentioned cleave:   1.  To join together
                                                                          2.  To separate.

  • One Act of Thanksgiving

    “One act of thanksgiving made when things go wrong is worth a thousand when things go well.” 
    ~ John of the Cross

    This week I have heard reports of thanksgiving when things have gone wrong. 

        ~  A wife and a daughter who lost their husband/father to a heart attack giving comfort and living at peace with this hard providence… 
        ~  A marriage splitting apart and one member growing closer to the Lord through this tearing… 
        ~  A newborn baby discovered to be deaf – the mother thankful for sign language…
        ~  A woman in Zimbabwe who sees hope, and is thankful for the unexplainable provision of necessities…

    But isn’t the key to being thankful when things go wrong building the habit of being thankful for the thousand things that go well? 

    Here is another quote from the best book I’ve read in 2008:  Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry.

    “You mustn’t wish for another life. 
    You mustn’t want to be somebody else. 
    What you must do is this:
    “Rejoice evermore. 
    Pray without ceasing. 
    In everything give thanks.” 
    I am not all the way capable of so much,
    but those are the right instructions.”

  • Healed, Whole, Holy

    "It is no coincidence that the root word of whole, health, heal, holy, is hale (as in hale and hearty).  If we are healed, we become whole, we are hale and hearty, we are holy.

    The marvelous thing is that this holiness is nothing we can earn.  We don't become holy by acquiring merit badges and Brownie points.  It has nothing to do with virtue or job descriptions or morality.  It is nothing we can do, in this do-it-yourself world.  It is gift, sheer gift, waiting there to be recognized and received.  We do not have to be qualified to be holy.  We do not have to be qualified to be whole, or healed."

                                        ~  Madeleine L'Engle

    ~     ~     ~

    "Wounds.  By his wounds we are healed.  But they are our wounds, too, and until we have been healed we do not know what wholeness is.  The discipline of creation, be it to paint, compose, write, is an effort toward wholeness."
                                         ~ Madeleine L'Engle

  • Oh, How I Love Onions

    First night backpacking is always a winner: chunks of sautéd elk filet, marinated in garlic, wine, soy sauce, and lemon juice.  Pasta Alfredo, made the night before and heated up, a glass of wine and call it delicious. 

    After that the menu gets very processed: cup of noodles, instant soup, instant hot chocolate, grilled hotdogs...sigh.  It is the kind of food which messes up the gastric system, which is all we will say about that delicate topic. 

    On a night when each man made his own meal, Jesse and Rachel wrapped potatoes in foil, tucked it into the coals and started cutting an onion.  Kalamata olives, sundried tomatoes, and green onion tops were added, wafting up intoxicating aromas. 

    Look at that! 
    Would you rather have that or Ramen noodles? 
    I made myself a promise.
    Never again will I go backpacking without bringing an onion along.


    clean up the next day