Category Archives: Write6x6

Inclusivity – Who is In, Who is Still Clueless

Faulty Assumptions….

I received an insurance notice the other day from a company with whom I’ve been doing business for decades — many decades. What caught my eye was the fact that it was in my husband’s name, not his and mine, not a version of the two, just his – as if I didn’t even exist. (We do not share the same name. When we married and I was asked what my name would become, I wrote out the name I was born with. Yes, it’s a difficult name, but I’m sticking with it.) But to assume that because I am finally (italics, for my mother) married and that all of my business correspondence should now be in my husband’s name is a bit presumptuous. Is this recent? No, we’ve been married 25 years. One would think after 25 years this would no longer be an issue. Haven’t we made more progress socially? I assumed we had. I guess I was wrong.

And speaking of presumptuous: Not only did I receive a notice for insurance that used to be in my name since the late 1980s, when I recently received a health insurance card from my husband’s employer the issuer ASSUMED and put down my husband’s last name next to my first. Excuse me, not only is that not legal, but it is incompetent. I was not asked, and neither was my husband. Please, let me go on — but I won’t.

Are my husband’s feelings hurt because I didn’t take his name? Not a whit. I would never have married him if his ego was so easily bruised.

A Rose by any Other Name

Now, putting assumptions and names aside for a minute, a rose (or Puffin, in this case) by any other name, and all of that, let’s get back to our primary subject DIVERSITY. Diversity is vested in INCLUSIVITY and ACCEPTANCE. What was all that about a name? If you can’t even get that right, how are you going to get any other elements of diversity correct? We are still assuming or presuming wrongly, on some of the most basic things.

I know all of you will do a great job at including a list of everything and everyone that should be part of diversity. I am proud and confident of that statement and will leave you to it – because I’m going for something different.

As an instructor teaching about American and world cultures I am hyper-aware of inconsistencies when talking about culture and people – especially when it comes to research and portrayals of different kinds and types of people.

Researchers have gone into difficult areas of the world in order to make recordings of people’s music they knew nothing about. Unfortunately, at times, that has also included some general assumptions that the people they were studying lacked civilization. In whose world? Who gets to say? Yes, I’m making a broad-based assumption. That used to be a fact more than it tends to be today. I am forever thankful for researchers doing these difficult things, taking these difficult journeys. I just want to make sure that we don’t make assumptions based on “facts not in evidence.”

Let Them Communicate

If we strive to make sure that all groups are included, which is part of my goal, then we need to make sure that all people are respected, as well. It’s not enough that they are in the room. I’ve watched people be placed or allowed “in the room,” and then thoroughly ignored. Not only do these individuals need to be part of the conversation while they are there; but when they aren’t there, the conversation needs to act as if they are. It’s amazing what kinds of insights these individuals can bring to the conversation if only someone would care enough to listen. The scions of culture (okay, I admit to a little sarcasm here), TV, the classroom, film, books, and multimedia, need to refer to everyone in the same manner – – respectfully. That includes written dialogue, how one speaks to others and about others, and doesn’t always go for the punchline – especially at someone else’s expense.

I still hear “you do such and such like a ____________________ fill in the blank for the disparaging remark aimed at gender, ethnicity, age, ability, et cetera. I was watching a favorite movie not long ago, one I’d always loved with dialogue elements at their finest, but I gasped when I heard the expression “Are you learning impaired” as a joke. I was sick with disappointment that one of my favorite screenwriters stooped to such a cliché. As long as people are encouraged to make fun at others’ expense, whatever difference, we will not truly have a diverse and cohesive cohort – whether they are present or not. In the meantime, I will never be able to watch that film again.

Two Difficult Groups

I’d like to leave you with two thoughts, and they don’t have to do with names, but identities; Two groups who are largely ignored, dismissed, and forgotten. They are:

  • People over 50, yes, 50, – the aging population (I know you don’t believe me, but it’s very true)
  • The Cognitively Disabled (I know you’ll believe me on this and you’ll start with .…but – I want you to hold that ‘but’ in.)

Yup, I’m aiming deep. The aging population, in general, is dismissed, mocked, and ignored. The cognitively disabled is a difficult group because every individual is different – differently abled, and different thinkers.

Several Roses in a Cohort

Temple Grandin has a great way of putting those on the autism spectrum (to name only one segment from the cognitively disabled) into a more robust point of view. She believes that it takes someone on the spectrum in order to change and move society through discovery and innovation.

Discovery and Innovation, two of my favorite power words. If you don’t know Dr. Grandin, yes, she’s on the spectrum, as she believes many who have invented and created throughout history have been, you should look up her work in the cattle industry – or on autism. She could have been shunted aside as being different, or seeing things in a different way. I agree with her. Perception or changing perspective can make all of the difference in the world. That has been her métier.

So, two difficult groups that have so much to offer society – still. Don’t assume these individuals can’t do it – assume they can with the right circumstances. I think what surprises me the most is how these two groups are constantly underestimated. How can we let people who are in their prime with their knowledge and their expertise be dismissed so easily. I can only assume it has something to do with guilt by association. No one wants to be old and ignored. No one wants to be young and cast aside, where people are afraid to let them try. I have connections with both of these groups of people and have been watching this for years – trying to keep my finger in the dike. What a waste of their talent. Don’t leave them off the list.

Don’t Leave Them Off the List*

*Many thanks to the (GOP) Group of Puffins who lent their Images for this Writing. (No Puffins were harmed or even slightly disturbed on behalf of this document.)

 

Embracing Diversity

The New Nursing Student 

Dr. Ingrid Simkins

As we always discuss the first day of nursing school, your first responsibility is to know yourself! Recognize your biases and leave them at the door. If you can’t acknowledge each person for their unique self, other career options are available. You need to treat every person as if they are your most adored member of your family and care for them as you would wish them to be cared for. None of us will be a diversity expert or culturally competent across all cultures, but we all have the capacity to be sensitive to each individual and their needs.

My name is Diversity (a poem)

Dr. Grace Paul

My Name is Diversity

I come in various forms

I come in various shapes

With unique physical attributes

Doesn’t matter, accept me for who I am!

Because I am who I am!

My gender is male, female, either, neither or fluid

I am a gay, lesbian, straight, bi, pan, or asexual

I am a veteran, differently abled, young or old

Doesn’t matter, accept me for who I am!

Because I am who I am!

I come from one race, or a mixture of races

My ethnicity is varied, from any part of the world

Native to the land, or an immigrant

Doesn’t matter, accept me for who I am!

Because I am who I am!

My culture, my food, my customs

My religion, my language, my rituals

Rich, poor, lower, middle, or upper class

Doesn’t matter, accept me for who I am!

Because I am who I am!

Take the time to know me

I am awesome and beautiful

Just the way I am

With uniqueness abound!

Talk to me, listen to me

Look at me, and include me

Respect me for what I am

Because, I am who I am!

I may look and sound different to you

But we can learn from each other

I am not a statistic

To represent diversity

Or inclusion

But an individual no matter

With so much to offer

I matter! Accept me for who I am!

Because I am who I am!

When you accept me for who I am

There is empathy in the world

Prejudices are removed

There is more tolerance

And therefore, less violence

Accept me for who I am!

Because I am who I am!

There is peace, love and understanding

Inspiration, Motivation and Hope

Better decision making all around

A better world for all of us

Do accept me for who I am!

Because I am who I am!

I am understood

I am valued

I am cherished

I am embraced

Because

I am ubiquitous

Because I am who I am!

And my name is Diversity!

 

A culturally relevant campus: my GCC Wellness Community

When I came to GCC full time in 2011, I was a desk rat who had been commuting an hour each way each day, and my body showed the result of years of too many meetings and bad food choices.  One of the best things that Nancy Oreshack recommended to me was our GCC yoga class . . . it was five minutes from my office and we got a tuition waiver!  Although the first semester was painful and consisted of an hour workout followed by a Tylenol on the drive home, it was so worth it!  I began to feel better and actually regained an inch of my height lost from years of hunching over a computer.

Since then I have become entrenched in all of our wellness resources.  I’ve lost 38 pounds thanks to our Naturally Slim program.  I learned to eat better thanks to the expertise of speakers like Shannon Smith, GCC nutrition faculty and registered dietician.  I’m a regular swimmer thanks to Louise So, and before COVID I practiced Pilates with Mary Lea and yoga with Anna Hall.  My doctors were lucky to find breast cancer early thanks to the on-campus mammogram opportunities that Margo Bates coordinates. I started walking regularly thanks to Meghan Kennedy of our CTLE and I continue with regular walks with President Leyba-Ruiz.

The best part of this wellness culture is the people.  This is my community.   These are my walking, swimming, hiking, and laughing buddies who keep me on track.  According to Dr. Chris Drew, our 2022 definition of culture has changed:

“While in the past cultures were built around geographical, social class, ethnic, and family ties, this is changing. The internet allows us to create our own ‘tribes’ of people spread out around the world who share our personal interest and values.”

Are you a member of my culture?  Perhaps you are, and we just haven’t met yet.  If you keep a pair of sneakers under your desk, if you have a locker in the FW building, or if you carry a hydro flask, you may be one of my people!  Let’s talk! Let’s walk!

***Our Fitness and Wellness was recently recognized (again!) as an Exercise is Medicine Gold Campus.

***Our Wellness Committee has curated a range of employee wellness opportunities.

 

Risky Business

[I think I have more fun coming up with the title than writing the actual piece.]

For me, taking a risk means addressing your fears. Having courage.

Last week I let my fear hijack my motivations to write my 6×6 piece. I made the mistake of reading other posts before I finished mine and became overwhelmed by the incredible expertise and detail that was being portrayed by my peers. Self doubt set in, and before I knew it, I had started deleting paragraphs that no longer seemed “good enough.”.

So here I am, a day late, starting from scratch, but with a much lighter load, since I have removed the unnecessary pressure to finish by a deadline and follow the suggested guidelines!

I have decided that my sense of shame and disappointment for not living up to my usual standards is experienced daily in the classroom (and on Canvas, Zoom and Webex…) by our students. Despite what we may think about their apparent lackadaisical behavior, many of our students are stunted by their own negative self talk, made worse by the dreaded sin of procrastination. I have seen this happen so frequently over the past 30 years of teaching that I do not need a research study to back me up.

Negative self talk may include such notions as “I am not as good as my classmates,” or “my instructor knows so much more than me, so I am not going to say anything in class” or “I don’t think I can finish this work by the deadline, so why bother?”

Negative self talk is risky business. It can destroy a perfectly good opportunity for learning and life advancement. What can we say to our students that might boost their self efficacy? How important are the deadlines? How could we rephrase our guidelines? What if you could say one thing that could help a student muster up enough courage to get the job done without any self doubt? Would you be willing to take that risk?

I hope I don’t get scolded for my late submission! jk


 

6x6x4 Chasing Blurry Bigfoot Down the Rabbit Hole

A statue of a large brown creature, it's face blurred, in front of a red, wooden front store

I have a problem.

Last week, instead of investigating an issue with one of my project platforms, I was exploring via Google Streetview a town in British Columbia verifying that photos of certain mysterious creatures inexplicably had their faces blurred by Uncle Google’s algorithms.

In an upcoming “thing” in a few weeks I hope to be making a case for the power of maybe misusing my “productivity time” for the exercise of following a curiosity signal. There’s something important to me, at least, about exercising that tingling when there is a promise of a trip down the rabbit hole– and it’s never about catching the rabbit, but just the chase.

Twitter of course excels in providing these jump off points… and I can hardly spend all my days chasing rabbits, but a good run, say 45 minutes, is something I can make room for. It feels like good brain exercise. This one started from a great source I have followed so long I cannot remember, ResearchBuzz:

I cannot fully identify why this tweet, among so many, was one that called to click. I am not one of the devoted trackers of these hypothetical creatures. Sasquatch is hardly a center of interest though as I unpack below, it/he/they (what are the pronouns?) is a metaphor I have exploited before.

And in Tweetdeck I did not even have the links preview like above which means the entrance to the hole was merely the text of the tweet “Everyone deserves #privacy . Even sasquatches. (Sasquatchii?) #GoogleMaps” and previously built in experience that @ResearchBuzz tweets good stuff.

The Rabbit Hole Entrance

The story Sasquatch censored? Harrison’s landmark carving is camera shy in Google StreetView’s eyes is from the Vernon (B.C.) Morning Star, noting a quirk identified by others about its town’s welcome sign statue gets the personal privacy treatment in Google Streetview.

Local Facebook groups were amused by a quirk of the interactive map-making technology that normally blurs the faces of people pictured in StreetView pictures. According to an observation originally posted on Twitter from CBC Vancouver municipal affairs reporter Justin McElroy, it seems the face-hiding feature also works on large wooden statues; the grinning face of the iconic Sasquatch statue that sits outside the welcome sign at the entrance of Harrison Hot Springs has also been blurred.

https://www.vernonmorningstar.com/trending-now/sasquatch-censored-harrisons-landmark-carving-is-camera-shy-in-google-streetviews-eyes/

My curiosity could have ended there. The typical response might be to retweet, send a link to a friend, and move on to the more important work of the day. But something kicked off the switch here. And this goes back to the information literacy stuff I followed long ago from Mike Caulfield when he was calling it the Four Moves strategy and now is SIFT– the act of following sources upstream. I often do this as much of what is reported on web sites is a reframing of something published elsewhere, often itself a recasting of… It’s the act of reading of a summary of a research study, and going to the bother of finding the source.

But still, this blurring of Sasquatch statues hardly beckons for further research. I do not doubt the story in the Vernon Morning Star. And it’s questionably of importance. It’s something else…

Maybe it is an associative trail? There was some trigger of connection- I have never been to Harrison Springs but saw the signs for it many times in 2014-2015 when I was in Kamloops for a few months of a fellowship at Thompson Rivers University. And I actually recognized the statue!

Earlier that year I did a talk playfully comparing the myth of OER reuse being as challenging to track as finding clear photos of Bigfoot, Nessie, et al. I collected examples shared by colleagues as a collection of Amazing Stories of OpennessTannis Morgan took on the full spirit in her sharing and even tweeted about it– posed with the said Sasquatch blurred by Google!

But the real call is that this is eminently repeatable. Google Streetview is wide open for you to go anywhere in the world their car mounted cameras have gone, and explore yourself. It’s got so many, close to infinitely interesting elements for creative or explorative learning activities. Heck one time on a highway I spotted the Streetview car coming at me, and I waved– it took a year but I did find myself there.

Into the Hole

It’s easy enough to find Harrison Hot Springs in Google Maps and then drop the streetview icon, I am able to “drive” up the road into town.

Heading north on Hot Springs Road https://goo.gl/maps/Mz6eF29eWUwtHRow9

This probably is not the efficient way to search for blurry Sasquatch… but I did get luck, I spotted a statue outside the the RV resort, a different statue than what was in the news story. But OMG, yes, the statue’s face is blurred:

Who is that blurred face creature outside the Springs RV resort?

Just wandering around the streets was interesting if not efficient. So if I use a search on “Sasquatch Statue” while in this area, it gets much easier:

Searching for Sasquatch Statues near Harrison Hot Springs, BC

Very quickly I found one (face blurred) near the waterfront:

Looks like Sasquatch. Maybe. As usually, the figure is blurry, and even more so in the face.

And then the main one featured in the news story, identified in Google Maps as Sasquatch Statue 3

Confirmed the news story!

Now here is a fun thing you may not know, Google Streetview keeps a timeline of photos from different time periods, so if you click the date in the top left, you can see the same location taken on different dates. So I am able to document that Sasquatch, blurry or not, was there greeting visitors in September 2015, but not in August 2011!

While poking around, I noticed some interesting things with Streetview. It does blur the face of humans walking around, but not dogs.

The privacy of humans is protected by a blur, but not for pooches.

And the blurring on statues is not even consistent- I found this one at a housing development, and the woord statue seems to have blurred the figure with an eagle head, but not the bears.

Which statues get the blur treatment? Only Google’s algorithm knows

So there is some kind of hierarchy for facial shapes that get the blur treatment? Again, the relative importance of this is highly questionable (especially if anyone is left reading this). But that is maybe not my point

Do I have one?.

What’s the Point Alan?

There’s something to be said for just reading and interpreting information versus interacting with the sources behind it. There’s not enough time in any day to do this (or perhaps not enough justification), but these small acts can plant seeds for other ideas that may emerge later. Knowing/reinforcing a few things here:

  • Google Streetview is a fully navigable immersive world
  • Every single view can be referenced, shared with a URL.
  • You can search for things within the geographical context of a map location
  • And the Streetview has a timeline, to see the same view across different years
  • The application of the face blurring, to protect privacy, has some interesting loopholes in it.

I would never have gotten this by reading a story and retweeting it.

This also reminds me of some interesting digital art I came when I learned of the work of visual artist Emilio Vavarella… in his Google Trilogy, he exploited Google’s Streetview to examine unintended effects such as glitches, or the accidental appearance of the camera’s operator, as part of questioning of the people, technology, and errors in the large data sets we use regularly.

So maps are useful for finding locations, getting from one place to another, but there is so much more potential when you look with a curious eye.

That’s what I find, emerging from the rabbit hole.

PS This is an installment of my participating in the 2022 Write 6×6 Challenge, they may never anticipate what the heck gets syndicated into their site!


Featured Image: Not in the original, but I added my own blur to a statue of Bigfoot I saw in a small California town in 2014. I leave it to someone else to find in Google Streetview.

A statue of a large brown creature, it's face blurred, in front of a red, wooden front store
Based on Bigfoot Wants Beer flickr photo by cogdogblog shared under a Creative Commons (BY) license

Just a Girl in Senior English

I dreaded my College Composition course in the fall of 1981. Not because I hated writing, but rather because of the teacher I was assigned – Mr. Luther Stewart. Mr. Stewart had a reputation at Scottsdale High School which included failing my brother in Freshman English. He was not to be trifled with. (And yes, he would hate that dangling preposition.)

Rumor was that Mr. Stewart had, at one point, been a lawyer but left it all to become a teacher. He looked more teacherly than lawyerly, with a largish bald head and over-sized glasses that magnified his glaring eyes. He didn’t smile much.

My own knowledge of Mr. Stewart stretched back to the first day of sophomore Advanced English, and he was my assigned teacher then. During the previous year, I had been on a Rumspringa of sorts from my regular academic persona. I discovered boys and drinking. I almost failed Algebra. I got kicked out of a class once, and I made my family very nervous. “What happened to Mary?” they all asked.

On that first day of sophomore year, Mr. Stewart passed out a chunky list of required reading, which consisted of no less than 25 classic texts. My then-14-year-old self balked and quickly retreated to a “regular” English class for the rest of the year.

Fast-forward to senior year, and Mr. Stewart was again on my slate of classes. This time, there was nowhere to run, and I resigned myself to being in his class. I entered Mr. Stewart’s room with a great deal of shame and a definite lack of belief in myself.

The regular assignment in his class was a weekly essay, and he allowed us to choose topics that were personally meaningful. I remember one such essay I wrote: “A Girl Should Make Her Prom Dress Instead of Buying One.” Let’s unpack this title for a moment. I am a “girl” in the 80’s. My pressing topic is prom dresses, and above that I am hell-bent on sewing my own.

I was a pom-pom girl. My path set out by my parents was to become a wife and mother (in that exact order). Nobody took me seriously, and I didn’t either. Enter Mr. Stewart. Our College Composition class was full of lively discussion, although the boys in the class were most vocal. On more than one occasion, Mr. Stewart would stomp his foot, raise his hand in the air, and exclaim, “Form follows the function of a reasoning mind!” We had debates in class such as “What is truth?” He taught us the art and science of argumentation.

As each week progressed, Mr. Stewart would provide detailed feedback on my essays, and his red pen was all over my papers. But deep down, I knew that level of feedback meant he cared and that I had something to offer. I felt like more than just a girl to be cast aside. My voice mattered.

With each essay, his ice melted, his encouragement ramped up, and I started to look forward to the weekly challenge of impressing him. Towards the end of the school year, he wrote the following feedback on one of my essays: “Sounds like you – a high compliment!” Today, I have these words on a sticky note on my desk, and I believe that praise is why I love writing today. And, it’s why, as a teacher, I want to hear and honor the voices of all my students.

The post Just a Girl in Senior English appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Just a Girl in Senior English

I dreaded my College Composition course in the fall of 1981. Not because I hated writing, but rather because of the teacher I was assigned – Mr. Luther Stewart. Mr. Stewart had a reputation at Scottsdale High School which included failing my brother in Freshman English. He was not to be trifled with. (And yes, he would hate that dangling preposition.)

Rumor was that Mr. Stewart had, at one point, been a lawyer but left it all to become a teacher. He looked more teacherly than lawyerly, with a largish bald head and over-sized glasses that magnified his glaring eyes. He didn’t smile much.

My own knowledge of Mr. Stewart stretched back to the first day of sophomore Advanced English, and he was my assigned teacher then. During the previous year, I had been on a Rumspringa of sorts from my regular academic persona. I discovered boys and drinking. I almost failed Algebra. I got kicked out of a class once, and I made my family very nervous. “What happened to Mary?” they all asked.

On that first day of sophomore year, Mr. Stewart passed out a chunky list of required reading, which consisted of no less than 25 classic texts. My then-14-year-old self balked and quickly retreated to a “regular” English class for the rest of the year.

Fast-forward to senior year, and Mr. Stewart was again on my slate of classes. This time, there was nowhere to run, and I resigned myself to being in his class. I entered Mr. Stewart’s room with a great deal of shame and a definite lack of belief in myself.

The regular assignment in his class was a weekly essay, and he allowed us to choose topics that were personally meaningful. I remember one such essay I wrote: “A Girl Should Make Her Prom Dress Instead of Buying One.” Let’s unpack this title for a moment. I am a “girl” in the 80’s. My pressing topic is prom dresses, and above that I am hell-bent on sewing my own.

I was a pom-pom girl. My path set out by my parents was to become a wife and mother (in that exact order). Nobody took me seriously, and I didn’t either. Enter Mr. Stewart. Our College Composition class was full of lively discussion, although the boys in the class were most vocal. On more than one occasion, Mr. Stewart would stomp his foot, raise his hand in the air, and exclaim, “Form follows the function of a reasoning mind!” We had debates in class such as “What is truth?” He taught us the art and science of argumentation.

As each week progressed, Mr. Stewart would provide detailed feedback on my essays, and his red pen was all over my papers. But deep down, I knew that level of feedback meant he cared and that I had something to offer. I felt like more than just a girl to be cast aside. My voice mattered.

With each essay, his ice melted, his encouragement ramped up, and I started to look forward to the weekly challenge of impressing him. Towards the end of the school year, he wrote the following feedback on one of my essays: “Sounds like you – a high compliment!” Today, I have these words on a sticky note on my desk, and I believe that praise is why I love writing today. And, it’s why, as a teacher, I want to hear and honor the voices of all my students.

The post Just a Girl in Senior English appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Just a Girl in Senior English

I dreaded my College Composition course in the fall of 1981. Not because I hated writing, but rather because of the teacher I was assigned – Mr. Luther Stewart. Mr. Stewart had a reputation at Scottsdale High School which included failing my brother in Freshman English. He was not to be trifled with. (And yes, he would hate that dangling preposition.)

Rumor was that Mr. Stewart had, at one point, been a lawyer but left it all to become a teacher. He looked more teacherly than lawyerly, with a largish bald head and over-sized glasses that magnified his glaring eyes. He didn’t smile much.

My own knowledge of Mr. Stewart stretched back to the first day of sophomore Advanced English, and he was my assigned teacher then. During the previous year, I had been on a Rumspringa of sorts from my regular academic persona. I discovered boys and drinking. I almost failed Algebra. I got kicked out of a class once, and I made my family very nervous. “What happened to Mary?” they all asked.

On that first day of sophomore year, Mr. Stewart passed out a chunky list of required reading, which consisted of no less than 25 classic texts. My then-14-year-old self balked and quickly retreated to a “regular” English class for the rest of the year.

Fast-forward to senior year, and Mr. Stewart was again on my slate of classes. This time, there was nowhere to run, and I resigned myself to being in his class. I entered Mr. Stewart’s room with a great deal of shame and a definite lack of belief in myself.

The regular assignment in his class was a weekly essay, and he allowed us to choose topics that were personally meaningful. I remember one such essay I wrote: “A Girl Should Make Her Prom Dress Instead of Buying One.” Let’s unpack this title for a moment. I am a “girl” in the 80’s. My pressing topic is prom dresses, and above that I am hell-bent on sewing my own.

I was a pom-pom girl. My path set out by my parents was to become a wife and mother (in that exact order). Nobody took me seriously, and I didn’t either. Enter Mr. Stewart. Our College Composition class was full of lively discussion, although the boys in the class were most vocal. On more than one occasion, Mr. Stewart would stomp his foot, raise his hand in the air, and exclaim, “Form follows the function of a reasoning mind!” We had debates in class such as “What is truth?” He taught us the art and science of argumentation.

As each week progressed, Mr. Stewart would provide detailed feedback on my essays, and his red pen was all over my papers. But deep down, I knew that level of feedback meant he cared and that I had something to offer. I felt like more than just a girl to be cast aside. My voice mattered.

With each essay, his ice melted, his encouragement ramped up, and I started to look forward to the weekly challenge of impressing him. Towards the end of the school year, he wrote the following feedback on one of my essays: “Sounds like you – a high compliment!” Today, I have these words on a sticky note on my desk, and I believe that praise is why I love writing today. And, it’s why, as a teacher, I want to hear and honor the voices of all my students.

The post Just a Girl in Senior English appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Pandemic Lessons: Sit, Stay

Inside my brain, there are two entities locked in battle for control of my life.

The first, surprising exactly none of my friends, is a Golden Retriever. Spry, eager to please, always in pursuit of snacks. This is the side of me that is in love with life, who signs up for everything, who nods eagerly in meetings. Yes! That’s a great idea. YES! Let’s totally do that! Oh, there will be cookies? Even better! Ever the optimist, this side of me lives by the mantra, JUST SAY YES, and it’ll all work out.

The other entity dwelling within me is the bedraggled and tired old sap holding the leash. This is the side of me who has to make sense of each calendar day filled with wildly conflicting commitments. (I have to be in two places at once AGAIN?) This side of me drags her feet when it’s time to leave the house for that thing we said we’d attend and feels paralyzed when that deadline approaches. This side of me is tired of being dragged down the street by that damned Golden Retriever and would love to sit down for a spell.

In March of 2020, when the Golden Retriever was strapped into a cone of shame for its own safety and forced into a kennel, the holder of the leash set the leash down, stopped moving, took a deep breath, and listened to the birds.

When the world stopped and we all stayed home, I was prepared to feel itchy and twitchy. Those feelings never arrived. I was shocked to discover that I liked slowing down. I craved balance. It was then that I realized for the first time that there are these two sides to me. (I guess the dog never looked over its shoulder at who was trailing behind?) It was at this time that I also realized that the side that holds the leash to my life is also the side that writes, that reflects, that notices.

Through this pandemic, I learned that there is value in doing, and my life is rich for saying yes, yes, absolutely yes to the opportunities that come my way, but there is also great value in allowing space in my life for peace and rest and thought.

This balance that I want in my life won’t happen accidentally. I understand now that I have to seek it out. I must, occasionally, say no. The happy pup must learn to heel.

Postscript:

The side of me that charged full steam ahead to bring back Write 6x6 was absolutely the Golden Retriever. The side of me finally sitting down to write this belated post is the keeper of the leash.

The Golden retriever also humbly requests that you still ask her to participate in things. (Especially if there are snacks.)

Can We Live Without Risks?

A statement someone made recently jumped out at me. They said they rarely take risks. I was amazed. I consider myself a very careful person, but I often feel like my risks are the challenges I take on. Of course, I’m not talking about doing anything like this!

Perhaps it’s the definition of the word risk [enter student’s clichéd discovery of dictionary definition to make written assignment longer]. Wink

I see risk as a transition and an opportunity. Now, if the risk doesn’t have that element, I won’t do it. In some ways, we all take risks every day. There are certain risks I simply won’t consider, the consequences are just too costly.

Professionally, I was always taught to say ‘yes,’ if you want to work. People want to know that you will say ‘yes,’ when they ask. It saves time for those hiring. That’s a musician’s point of view. It’s the way you keep getting more opportunities – or, for those who prefer less formal constructs – How you get more gigs. Regrets, yes, certainly. I said ‘no’ to a really good opportunity, which was a risk, because I was just getting married (hence, already in the midst of a transition) and didn’t want to spend my honeymoon thinking about the project and risking the beginnings of our marriage… I’ll always think about where that job might have led. But see, once again, I keep going back to the positive-negative balance of risks.

And I’ll admit to some positive/negative possibilities. I’ve walked into a classroom and spoken completely ‘off the cuff,’ which is definitely a risk. It’s not that I hadn’t thought about it. I had. I know my subject deeply. Some of those have been my most inspired lectures, but occasionally, they have not. It’s a risk.

How about classroom management? I had a student who sat in the front row of class and never took a note. (This is a room that is set up as a lecture/recital hall, so down in front is noticeable.) In fact, he came in without anything – no books, no notebook, no pen/pencil or computer. Nothing. An instructor would assume he didn’t come prepared for class. And we’ve all had those students who obviously weren’t. Did I mention this was a long lecture format? The class was two hours and twenty minutes long. Should I say anything to him? He wasn’t disruptive, and he did well in the subject. One day he came in with a Rubik’s cube. I saw it, but chose not to say anything. As the lecture was finishing I just happened to look over at him. He subtly showed me his work by merely opening his hand. It was finished, and it was perfect. He hadn’t been disruptive to anyone, he didn’t show anyone else, I hadn’t been interrupted by what he was doing, but it allowed him to concentrate on what we were talking about. A risk, and a reward.

Deeper Risks

I could stop there, because it would be a great place to end – but I’m going to “risk” it and go heavy. As I mentioned earlier, we take risks every day. Driving, flying, walking down a set of stairs, saying something that you wish you hadn’t. I never discuss politics. I’ve gotten to where I rarely offer comments – especially to the entire world on any of those fronts.

But I’m going to include the world community and the risks people are facing today because we need to be talking about this in our classrooms. These are the ultimate risks because they are about basic human needs. This is not something that is happening somewhere else. It will ultimately affect us here. I was just reading an article about the fact that many Russians are also leaving their homeland, just as many Ukrainians are – except those who choose to fight. There is a general surge of people trying to survive with some semblance of their lives intact. In the article, the author referred to a family’s current residence, a shared room with three mattresses on the floor. The people had a roof, they had mattresses, a floor, running water, and they still had some money. They had been well-to-do so such living conditions would not have been acceptable in their previous life, but under the circumstances they knew they were lucky. They calculated the risk and felt they’d come out ahead considering the cost.

I first saw evidence of the collapse of the Soviet Union in the 1990s in Sweden. I ended up working with two Russian musicians as part of a Swedish quartet. There were interesting cultural flare-ups that surprised me. But like other recent mass emigrations, everyone was, and had been, fleeing for their lives. It’s amazing what we are willing to risk when we feel that we have little left to lose or too much to lose – our lives or our children’s lives.

In Estonia, ten years after the last Russian troops slowly left, I moved there, and in my research I learned more of Stalin’s ’round up’ of people. Sometimes there were lists, sometimes just numbers. ‘Take this number of people. I don’t care who.’ They disappeared or went to gulags. Often, no one ever knew whether they were killed outright or just never seen again. How can you live with that threat? I was part of an interview team to determine whether a young Estonian man would study in the U.S. when he talked about the importance of the NATO alliance to his country. I knew about NATO. It also meant, in couched terms, the U.S., from where funding came for this prestigious scholarship. I occasionally thought about NATO – but not to the extent that this young man understood it because the Estonians had few defenses against the Russians on their shared border. We, as Americans, have the luxury of a different point of view.

Before I sign off, I want to mention that moving people, their craft, their professions, their influences, and their cultures affects everything. It affects the arts, music, the humanities, science, technology, engineering, people, and even education. Would you stay or would you go? Ultimately, when we talk about risks, these are the most critical risks to discuss. I truly believe as educators everything we do counts, but we are also lucky that we can talk about risks that are so relatively ordinary when others face risks that are so tremendously devastating.