Women who write

In my high school and college years, I spent a great deal of time arguing the similarities between men and women, going so far as to attribute the vast majority of gender differences to nurture.  The nature versus nurture discussion continues and what we know for sure is that we don't really know.  The most sweeping conclusion that can be drawn is "humans are not hard-wired."

I've learned some things, experienced a bit more of the world, and taken on more roles since my teens and early twenties.  I have a deeper appreciation of the rich and varied interplay between gender and milieu, as well as the role of, well, roles.  And regardless of all the science, the known, the unknown, the questioned, and the hypothesized, I am quite certain that, as a group, women who write do not write in the same way as men who write.  Perhaps it has less to do with nature than with life experiences and those pesky roles than tend, more often than not, to define by way of limiting.

As I think about the courses I will be teaching next semester and the changes I will be making in both content and approach, I am thinking about why I read what I read.  And, during September, I've decided to read only women authors, not for any particular subject matter expertise, but to experience the difference in voice.  Today, it's Molly Ivins.  Waiting in the wings are Annie Dillard, Maya Angelou, Merlin Stone, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and a host of others.  Though I'll miss my favorite men who write, I'm looking forward to some time with the girls.

A lot to learn

This fall, my friend Julie is teaching high school English for the first time as a 'real' teacher and she is unabashedly excited.  Her students will have what every student deserves--a teacher doing what she/he loves.  Julie returned to school after becoming a mom; several semesters of coursework and student teaching later, she received her Master of Arts in Teaching.   

When I saw Julie the week of new teacher orientation, she made a passing comment about seeing the Benchmark results for classes taught by her colleagues (the other English teachers) as part of the formal presentation...and wondering how her own results will look next year.

Yesterday, the Mayor posted on Facebook (the fact that our mayor posts--and 'likes'--frequently is one of many charming things about our city) a quote by educational philosopher Robert Maynard Hutchins:

The object of education is to prepare the young to educate themselves throughout their lives.

One of the responses to the Mayor's post came from a friend of mine, the single father of a son starting sixth grade:

Now the object is to prepare them for the Benchmark Exams, not to educate.

This morning, a shared link about Molly Ivins caught my eye and connected the dots. Julie, the Mayor, and Molly Ivins, three highly educated people, committed to their own education and the education of others.  Maynard Hutchins and a single father wondering about the object of education.  And they can't all be right.

Except that they are.  

We need Julie's enthusiasm, the Mayor's willingness to engage in the dialog, Hutchins' legacy (which, by the way, is a continuation of a far older Socratic legacy), parents who challenge our educational priorities, and Ivins' example of refusing to abandon the belief that speaking out (over and over again) will make a difference.  

I have so much to learn...

Can those who do also teach?

It's another semester where I am not teaching and I find myself wondering why it is that I miss the classroom so much during these semesters 'off.'  Classes start a week from today and I already miss updating the syllabus, making revisions to course plans, and wondering (as I do each semester) how many of the names I'll actually be able to attach to the faces.  The specifics don't matter as much, I suppose, as the yearning.

What is it about the learning that I miss?  I've pondered this question a fair amount over the last few years.  And, in the final analysis (which, of course, we never reach) it seems to be the creativity, the lack of rote, the newness in the sameness.   Nothing seems to satisfy as much as the opportunity to re-invent--or to believe that we can.

When my daughter was younger and we had a near-steady diet of child-friendly fare, I realized how many stories deal with beginnings, with cycles, with birth-death-life.  Each day, each season, each year allows us to re-new, re-create, re-discover.  The resonance of beginnings, of the freshly sharpened pencil, the empty grade book, the chance to get it better, righter, different this time.

Whatever the reason, I miss being part of the preparations.  And I am counting the weeks until January.

Do it yourself

I'm reasonably sure that shower heads are not supposed to fall off when adjusted.  In fact, I'm absolutely positive that this is a malfunction suggesting the (somewhat urgent, perhaps) need for replacement of the shower head.  And can I make a link to education and teaching?  You bet I can.

I will be making a trip to the nearest DIY ('do it yourself' store) to purchase a replacement shower head and, well, do it myself.  Despite knowing friends who could, perhaps, do it more quickly and having plumbers in my community who could just do it for me, it would be inconsistent with most everything I write and say to simply turn this over to someone else.  Far too many of us in the 'developed' world have lost the ability to do much more than drive to work and use computers to help us analyze and communicate data.  Though I hear less of it now than I did in previous circumstances, I cringe when I hear 'outsource' used in conjunction with household maintenance, activities of daily living (cooking, for example), and the raising of our children.

The single act of replacing the shower head (which has, in case you're wondering, cracked at the juncture where the threaded section attaches) won't change the world or make much of a difference.  But embracing the mindset that capable people make better citizens--which includes better parents, better teachers, better employees, and just better people--and practicing that mindset to the fullest extent possible may make me a better parent, teacher, and friend.

Thoreau would have approved, I think.

You just can't plan these things...

Today, in a completely unexpected encounter, I found myself talking about the Capstone course to an executive at a large retail company.  In the midst of a discussion about sustainability, I went off (or on and on, depending upon perspective) about the shift I had observed in students who took the Capstone course this summer.

I found myself explaining that I'd taken a risk (which is not a surprise, by now, is it?) by substituting 'the lens of sustainability' for the traditional business simulation associated with Capstone.  As I rhapsodized (you had to be there) about the shift I'd observed in some of the students over the course of the semester, I heard myself explaining how some students moved from a negative or skeptical perspective (about the relevance of sustainability for business) to a recognition of the business value in thinking about the world--and the people in it--as a resource worth safeguarding.

And then?  She asked to see how I'd designed my course.  It seems that her job is, in part, helping consumers make the same shift from skepticism--which, in a retail context, may be more accurately described as cynicism--to understanding, if not embracing, the value of protecting and renewing resources.

Who knew?

Endings are beginnings

I just walked out of the classroom, down the stairs, and across the courtyard to the building where I office.  It was the final session of the summer for the Managerial M.B.A. program for full-time professionals.  It's the end of their two-year program.

I don't know how they do it, these students with jobs and families, many of whom commute from other cities for the Saturday classes.  It's not just the effort required to attend class, it's also the level of effort they put into their work, which translates to high-quality finished products.  These highly-motivated students want to be in school and want it enough to work hard.  They are a joy to teach.  And, as with the bright, motivated teams with whom I've worked, these students challenge me to work hard.  In some ways, it doesn't feel as though I'm teaching at all.

And the last sentence is the shadow side, perhaps, of this experience.  The students who need teaching the least are the ones who are the easiest to teach.  Instructors love the self-motivated high performers.  Part of why we love them is because they make us look good.

The structure of this capstone course means that I lectured very little and spent the majority of class time with small groups of students engaged in work; as a result, I was fortunate enough to be able to know them far better.  And I will miss them.

I'm all thumbs

A recent CNN article has been on my mind lately, as it's likely that sitting at my computer to work, sitting in my car to commute or travel, and sitting for more than 3-4  hours a day is deleterious to my health.  The simple truth is that I sit too much and it's bad for me. Or, as The Cat in the Hat might say, I sit, sit, sit and don't like it one bit (with apology to Dr. Seuss).

It's been on my mind because I am teaching a summer class that meets for four hours on Saturdays and I'm talking to my daughter about college, jobs, and life.  I've come to the conclusion that, with the exception of professional athletes, we've pretty much kicked all non-office work to the curb, at least in the U.S.  The 'smart' kids go to college to get white-collar jobs.  The 'important' jobs have titles, offices, and dress codes.  We have entire groups (classes, perhaps) of people who drive from home to somewhere else to do work--work that requires a great deal of sitting--with little tangible benefit.  And, in that process, we've become completely reliant on others to grow our food, build our homes, and provide maintenance for many of the things we own.

I'm not a proponent of total self-reliance or a return to Thoreau's Walden Pond.  But I'm troubled about our whole-sale adoption of the wonders and benefits of technology without a healthy counting of the cost.  And I wonder about the message--whether intended or not--that the 'best' jobs require a college education, a computer, an office, and a whole lot of sitting.

I can tell you for a fact that I am happier and healthier when my own life is much more balanced...when I use my head, my hands, and my heart in pretty equal measure.  I'm not sure we realize how much damage is being done by the slow transition from being whole people to being little more than brains with thumbs.