(photographers: Shawn on the far left, Bonnie on the far right)
oh snap! Ingersolls strike again…
July 11, 2009
censorship, story, and Van Gogh
July 3, 2009
(medium format, Prague CZ)
Two weeks ago I took Lewis and Clark’s course, “Writing and Writing Process” which was provided by the Northwest Writing Institute.
9 a.m.- 4 p.m. Write. Write. Write. Lunch. Write.
I took this course with my cohort, which consists of 24 graduate students, different subject areas but all future high school/middle school teachers. We will all have class together for the next 13 months. We will get to know each other very well. Very, very well.
So I came to realize this week that when you write, and then read your work out loud to an audience, it can drive nerves through the ceiling. Really. Then when you write about something you really care about, it’s even more paralyzing.
Being vulnerable is…well…you know. Being vulnerable.
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On the first day I mentioned in my writing that I actually did censor what I wrote, knowing that it would be eventually read to my class. I was uncensored when admitting this, and following that, my instructor told me,
“Don’t censor your writing. Don’t do it. Don’t censor…”
The censorship wasn’t there to prevent offensive language (because I don’t even like offensive language and don’t really use it…except for maybe when I stub my toe or something)…or to keep myself from stating things that would be significantly rude…it was just…
I just didn’t know how vulnerable I wanted to get.
When my instructor urged me to just write in a way that was natural, I heard myself asking:
”How the heck am I suppose to encourage students to be vulnerable in the classroom, if I’m not vulnerable in the classroom?”
And so I wrote. Didn’t censor. At. All.
So here’s the essay I had to read out loud to my cohort and another smaller class. Man was I nervous. Really. In this essay we had to respond to a few articles we read and dialogued about during the week…but we could take it any direction we wanted. (booya?)
(note: “Tom” was a person mentioned in one of these articles, and he was the brother of “Baxter”. That’s all I’ll tell you. zing!)
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The other day I was majorly late. I should probably type that in caps and bold print I was THAT late. It was my second day of class and with a map in hand, I could not, and I repeat, COULD NOT find my classroom. I know I always pin jokes on my horrible sense of direction and my space-cadet mentalities, but really, this was ridiculous. I spent an estimate of 30 minutes wandering around campus, WITH a map in my hands, still at loss.
I really could barely handle it.
What this moment brings to me, is the young man who states, “Art, I just don’t get it”. As he said this, he displayed a poem that was in fact art. He just created something he doesn’t get. Or someone who dreads writing and then reads their work in front of people, stating the most profound illustration of perseverance. I’m watching moments when we say “I can’t.”…but then we in fact do that very thing and prove ourselves wrong.
I’ve also heard, “Changing your mind is learning.”
What motivates us to learn, and what defines intelligence?
There has to be something ahead of us, waiting for our discovery. Something must change, and if it isn’t a “something” then it is “us”. A story doesn’t stand still when someone reads it, and a story isn’t invisible when someone lives it. Someone could say that they don’t have a story, but as a peer said, “even the absence forms something of value.”
Some say that intellect and information may be the route to all success. Baxter talks about character, experience, and from what I gathered personally, the need for hope. He also talks about the rivers of information that flow into our overcrowded minds, creating this over-stimulus of content.
But, what I noticed is that he mentioned character.
He talks about his brother, who “didn’t have a mean bone in his body”. He was also “horribly, shockingly, punitively generous to everyone. He was always giving something away. It was in his nature to do so…” And so I wonder, how do we define intelligence? I remember hearing stories about Van Gogh, a man who came from a family of Dutch ministers. He in fact wanted to follow suit, but couldn’t quite deal with it due to being such an intense man, maybe not academically rising up to the call. Instead he would stand in fields at night, in the middle of thunderstorms, in awe of what he called “God’s creation”. He too gave everything away to the point of being what some people would call insane. His family would send him money, and then he would go out and purchase Bibles and insist on handing them out. He in fact loved people so much, that he slept on piles of hay at one point, giving his mattress away, leaving even the villagers concerned for that “crazy evangelistic artist”.
As a painter, and can assure you that this is why I paint, because of people’s stories. There is a reason why there’s this longing to connect and be a part of something bigger than ourselves.
And yet, walk into an art museum, and Van Gogh is there on some touristy coffee mug or baby bib that states “Baby Van Gogh”.
This story dwells in my mind, mainly because I find that people are what matter and people drive us to do what we do. This week I felt as if I had a mini epiphany, and knowing about all this information-glut I of course flipped open my computer. I then typed my information glut facebook status. I typed,
“Something grad school has taught me so far: always, always make room for people.”
Always make room for people. Why?
Because that is how you learn. You can have as many books as possible, or debate about politics till your blue in the face, but make sure you actually have someone to debate WITH. Make sure you’re not just looking in the mirror, because as it’s said, “Changing your mind is learning”- and I wonder if it’s impossible to change your mind alone.
I’m wondering if Baxter didn’t have his brother, he wouldn’t realize how important story was. Even though Tom was marked as the “dumb brother” by even Tom himself, he brought Baxter value.
He taught Baxter.
Tom taught, and how he taught was through action and story.
Even here in our classrooms, we’ve debated, read, and shared…and I’m thinking that it could be possible that this man who was good at stories but not so good at information, rose to be the protagonist in our past 48 hours.
I’ve heard that the moment a protagonist thinks he’s better than everyone else, he automatically becomes a villain. Tom stayed a protagonist, and so the question is,
Who is your protagonist in your story?
while reading my homework
July 2, 2009
“Of all the developed countries, only two systematically have spent less money on educating poor children than wealthy children. One is South Africa (under apartheid); the other is the United States.”
-Stan Karp
risk
June 22, 2009
“We do things we are not accustomed to. We change. The experience of change, of unaccustomed activity, of being on unfamiliar ground, of doing things differently is frightening. It always was and always will be. People handle their fear of change in different ways, but the fear is inescapable if they are in fact to change.
Courage is not the absence of fear; it is the making of action in spite of fear, the moving out against the resistance engendered by fear into the unknown and into the future.
On some level spiritual growth, and therefore love, always requires courage and involves risk.”
M. Scott Peck- The Road Less Traveled
ack!
June 17, 2009
Yesterday I had to measure myself for another wedding come November.
I’m actually really excited for the AZ wedding of my good friends Kyle DiRoberts and Lolly Mullen. I’m also ready to brave the 20-person bridal party (huzzah! numbers unite!).
However, “taking my measurements” (bridesmaid dress) kinda felt like a 2×4 to the face. For a few hours (yes, hours) I pondered the trials of womanhood via measuring tape/scale/pants-that-sometimes-do-not-fit after taking down my numbers. I wasn’t thrilled about how I was feeling.
I then thought, “I’m pretty sure that Jesus doesn’t care about my exact measurements.”
So, I got over it.
(slowly)
As I continue to question/live/ponder I’m gaining more of an understanding as to what “healthy” means. Sometimes I’m caught between this tension of caring a lot and just not caring at all. What I do know is that God tends to look and love inward,
as man/woman tends to look outward.
God values the movement of internal growth,
while man/woman sometimes values with his/her eyes.
I know there’s a balance/value of beauty and health, and in the past I’ve had a few thoughts on the topic of beauty,
yet, what has kept my frustrations at bay is when I look at how Christ valued people.
He never mentioned a darn thing about a woman’s measurements.
I think He’s telling me, “Take care of your body because it’s a temple, but really, get over the measurement stuff. I love you always.”
(Ok, You win. You win.)
st-st-studio!
June 13, 2009Two years ago I moved into this room.
I loved what I saw out the window, viewing a thick forest with a running creek that I could hear with the window open. Next step, move my stuff in.
And so I did. I also figured every girl should have fun with wall paint, and while the opportunity struck I should just rock the unimaginable (salmon pink!).
Oh man, that’s a whole lot of salmon. Loved it. Today I’m moving out, and in prep for what’s to come (?) I’m thinking more along the lines of my typical blues and greens. For a month I’ll be living in a studio (er, basement that was disguised as a studio). Here goes!
Rm. 25
June 11, 2009
Tonight I baked cookies since tomorrow is our last full day of school. I’ve always been known to be that quirky teacher who is always sneaking in baked goods. (really, can’t help it…) I’m hoping that big-chewy-coconut-white/milk/dark chocolate chip cookies will suffice.
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Today I was helping {insert censored student’s name here which has to remain anonymous}, one of our 4th graders, with some index cards for a speech. In the middle of his focus he noticed two reading specialist teachers walk in the room. With full conviction (I mean full conviction) he slowly leans over his desk closer to my chair. He bends down his face so that he can look over his glasses like a little old man, and in a whisper he slowly states,
“They’re suspicious!”
Man this student kills me. So hilarious.
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A month ago in a fit of hysterics he threw himself to the ground in the middle of P.E…eventually attempting to violently bang his head on a large medal volleyball pole. Realizing that this may not be the best thing for his health, I rush over with another teacher to stop him. Placing my hand on the front of his head, I keep the banging from continuing yet he goes into a protest, screaming to leave him alone, that he wants to hurt himself, etc.
(No you cannot hurt yourself, you’re worth too much.)
So then he starts pinching. kicking. hitting.
What was I trained in response? Keep the kid safe. So, I kneel down, wrap my arms around him, secure a wrangling/struggling/full-of-anger little big body, and don’t let go.
“I said let go!!!! I want to hurt myself!!”
Nope. not an option.
He continues to try to bang his head, but realizes that I won’t let it reach the pole. Solution? Try to slam his head backwards against my chest. Solution for me? Get closer so that I’m too close, so close that he has no room to bang his head anywhere.
Sometimes you have to get close to keep a kid safe.
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There have been so many difficult moments in my work within this past year. But, when I see growth, I know it is worth it. This particular didn’t like any contact with anyone when he was younger, and now he’ll have moments of asking teachers for hugs, or just wandering over and walking hand in hand with you down the hall. Social cues are a bit hard for him, but,
he is Autistic.
He is quite brilliant.
Funny.
A fantastic speller.
A creative thinker.
I told him in order to remember North, East, South and West…to think of Never Eat Soggy Waffles. He responded, “how about this!…Never, Ever, Suck, Walnuts!”
(how did I not come up with that?? brilliant!)
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So tomorrow is my last full day. There have been so many difficult moments in my work within this past year…but also moments of redemption, reconciliation, growth, and in fact, joy.
