Sometimes I think I enjoy teaching as much as I did 20 years ago, or 30, or 40. Sometimes, I think more. Occasionally, I reckon myself a bit more accomplished than I was back then. After all, I'm far less driven by the import of the material; these days I've come to believe that lots of people get by in life without feeling Hamlet's indecision or knowing what's really happening in Hemingway's shattered psyche when he goes fishing in northern Michigan. I used to be an evangelist. No more.
Today, I think I care less about grades and more about students. The first president of this college told me, years ago, that one of his only regrets in life was that it took him too blasted long to learn that the way to people's hearts is by way of laughter. These days I don't take myself so seriously, and my students feel more like grandchildren than they ever have, and that ain't all bad.
Last week a couple of my students had to do an interview for a digital media class, and they chose me for a subject--the mike hidden inside the lapel, flashy set-up lighting, HD camera, the whole nine yards. One of them asked questions, the other did the shooting. "You think of yourself as a hip teacher?" the interviewer said.
That's a no-brainer, of course. There's only one answer. I don't. But for most of the following weekend I walked with a bit of a better bounce in my step. Hip?--get that?
All that having been said, this morning's most compelling vision was a chapel parking lot full of a dozen huge vans, several sporting trailers, and one leviathan Greyhound. Just saw laid out before me, coming back from the gym, like the new Jerusalem. Today, all those students take off for hither and yon--some to play ball, some to build toilets, some to toot horns. Who cares?--they're off. Hallelujah. The campus'll be a cave. How exceedingly joyous.
And this dear morning's morning thanks, most gratefully offered, is very, very simple. This old teacher couldn't be happier that they're gone. Now I can breathe, if I still know how. Honestly, whole-hearted thanksgiving.
Today, I think I care less about grades and more about students. The first president of this college told me, years ago, that one of his only regrets in life was that it took him too blasted long to learn that the way to people's hearts is by way of laughter. These days I don't take myself so seriously, and my students feel more like grandchildren than they ever have, and that ain't all bad.
Last week a couple of my students had to do an interview for a digital media class, and they chose me for a subject--the mike hidden inside the lapel, flashy set-up lighting, HD camera, the whole nine yards. One of them asked questions, the other did the shooting. "You think of yourself as a hip teacher?" the interviewer said.
That's a no-brainer, of course. There's only one answer. I don't. But for most of the following weekend I walked with a bit of a better bounce in my step. Hip?--get that?
All that having been said, this morning's most compelling vision was a chapel parking lot full of a dozen huge vans, several sporting trailers, and one leviathan Greyhound. Just saw laid out before me, coming back from the gym, like the new Jerusalem. Today, all those students take off for hither and yon--some to play ball, some to build toilets, some to toot horns. Who cares?--they're off. Hallelujah. The campus'll be a cave. How exceedingly joyous.
And this dear morning's morning thanks, most gratefully offered, is very, very simple. This old teacher couldn't be happier that they're gone. Now I can breathe, if I still know how. Honestly, whole-hearted thanksgiving.
3 comments:
Great photo of Sioux land after a spring snow. Looks also like a pretty good Res.road with snow. How did an "old man" get out there, through that ditch and fence to get such a wonderful shot? That view would also make a great comparison photo in the summer when the corn is as high as an elephant's eye. Your "Morning Thanks" reminded me of the old song which begins "When peace like a river attendeth my way" and ends "It is well, it is well with my soul." Thanks.
This is the good-stuff. Thanks for the chuckle.
Spring break in Texas, too! Even for us elementary teachers! Double Hallelujah!
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