Pulling it Together

I am coming home from five days away at NCTE Convention in Chicago. As with all conventions like this, I come away wishing I had gone to more sessions and feeling like I shortchanged my experience. I know that I can only take in so many new ideas and, with presenting and other new duties, five sessions is more than enough for me to mull over and to glean wisdom from. Maybe it's the teacher in me - always wanting to do more and to do better.

One of the goals I decided upon after this conference is to write 10 lines a day. This came about when I ran into my former colleague from Jakarta - Betsy Hall - and she encouraged me to do what she has been doing, thanks to the advice from a writer friend of hers. It must have worked because she now has the manuscript of a Young Adult novel that she has been working on for 8 years. I'm not sure yet what I will write. It could be my memoir or the film and literacy book I am itching to complete. It could also be a stab at fiction. One thing's for sure, I need to apply what I have instructed my own writing students to do - write every day. After all, that's the only way anyone can improve their craft - PRACTICE!

Finding serenity

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

Serenity. What a calm and stable word. It conjures up strength during turbulent times. When life is crazy, it is the eye of the hurricane. "Be still and know that I am God." Peace. Calm.

When I think about it, I am perplexed by a myriad of pressures and conflicts, dramas and oddities. There are times when it is difficult to see the order or purpose in the swirl of it all but somehow I find peace in extraordinary places.

A slice of my life:

* A student contemplates suicide and turns to me as her only hope.
* My three young children clamor for my attention and all are in tears over some "issue" at hand.
* My colleagues are at odds with each other and ask me for advice in conflict resolution.
* My wife is ill and we don't know what is wrong.
* My preservice teachers are stressed and I need wisdom to give them what they need.
* In the span of 3 years, I lost both parents and two brothers

WHEW!

Am I glad that ultimately I don't need to have all the answers?
What I do need to do is remain hopeful and at peace and live this reality in tangible ways...

Balance

Life is ALL about balance. We are told the importance of a balanced diet. I have long ago given up balancing my checkbook but, most importantly, I am learning how to balance the range of roles I assume in any given day. As soon as my three year old son decides it's time to jump out of bed singing, my role as a weary father begins! Within minutes, as I juggle at least two children and get them their milk and breakfast while their mother sleeps, my role as a husband takes over. About an hour later, I am rushing out the door, ready to begin my role as a college professor which involves the multiple roles of teacher, researcher, writer, counselor, team builder, and friend. Alternately, I assume the role of brother, leader, lover, and mentor. To say it's a daunting job puts it mildly.
My roles often bleed into each other and at times, it is difficult to manage so many ways of living. I think of my pre-professional students who are currently struggling with this juxtaposition. I see them teeter between being a student and being a teacher and trying to figure out where the balance lies. That we need balance is not the issue. The question is how. After 45 years of trying to figure this out, I am learning to be patient with the process as I keep striving for this all elusive goal. Sigh.

Peace

How does one attain it and how can it be sustained? Whether a nation or a person, peace is often an illusive prize that seems just out of our grasp most of the time but when one is in its presence, all fear and mistrust melt and life takes on significant awe. I marvel at the ways people who are surrounded by turmoil can exhibit this trait. I remember being in Jakarta during the September 11, 2001 and my colleagues at my school commenting on my peace. (If they only knew) Just last year a student told me that they wanted to teach just like me - with grace and peace. Once again, I thought, "If only they knew"! In any case, it seems that one cannot force it; one can only long for it and wait and observe the conditions that bring it about.
My thoughts on peace are prompted by witnessing a good friend suffer incredible loss with resilience and joy - no small feat. His life was in danger and he lost his most expensive possessions and yet he exhibits peace in authentic and disarming ways. I think of Paul's admonition to the church at Philippi, "The peace of God that passes all understanding may keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Yes, that's what it is, peace that passes understanding, peace like a river, peace that keeps one centered, balanced, and which disarms even the most antagonistic intruders. May our days be filled with unabashed and unexplainable peace!

Books that inspired me this summer

My friend, Bret, encouraged me to blog about what I have been reading and so here's my initial stab at my evolving list:

I just read two books by English professor, Mark Edmundson. The first, Teacher: The One Who Made the Difference interested me because I am a sucker for a good teacher memoir. I had read reviews of it and thought it would satisfy my curiosity. Edmundson recounts his high school philosophy teacher who expected so much of his students and how that greatly impacted his own future teaching, not to mention his life. He goes back in time to when he was a football player who was headed to community college and how this teacher showed him how to think and the difference that made to him. The book is humorous, though a bit rambling and I was hoping there would be more substance on what it was exactly that this teacher did to engage his students. This is an important topic to me and I wanted more.

The second Edmundson book I read is aptly titled Why Read. This time Edmundson takes us to his own teaching of humanities and looks at why students need an integrated humanities course that is centered on great texts. He examines the kinds of thinking that these texts engender and the ways they can give our society hope and meaning. I really like his ideas and his compelling arguments. However, I am not a fan of his rambling style. His ideas run from one to the next but do not seem to be organized coherently. I may draw from this as I teach reading but only in segments as its argument is not always clear.

I would recommend both of these books but only for entertainment and interest, not instruction for how to read or teach. They helped me think about my own teaching and reading but didn't extend my thinking too much. Oh well.

Teacher: http://www.amazon.com/Teacher-One-Who-Made-Difference/dp/0375708545/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1314803329&sr=8-3

Why Read: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=why+Read&x=0&y=0

Getting Started

For some reason, I have had difficulty emerging from the haze of the end of summer and digging into the preparations of a new semester. Sure, my syllabi are in order and I have a good idea where I am headed - BUT I don't have the desire to attend to so much minutia that clutters these beginning. So many meetings and proposals and emails... I know they're a necessary part of this job but they make me weary and lacking imagination. My big question this semester will be: How can I maintain balance in my life. I feel my students' anxiety as they question how THEY can manage all that's expected of them. I ask the same question of myself. Perhaps I need to say "No" more frequently or find creative outlets for my stress. I am fortunate to be surrounded by interesting and challenging friends and colleagues and that I enjoy my "work". I just don't think I should be THIS weary at this early stage of the semester. Should I?

Week of the Surreal

It's a week before school starts and I am having trouble focusing. My syllabi are still works in progress, I am helping three friends move, and time with my family is energy-sapping albeit fun. More importantly, I am remembering my mother and father who passed away this week, my mom a year ago and my father four years ago.
I visited their grave with flowers today and said a prayer for our family who has gone through hell this year without them. I can only imagine how their presence would have made a difference as they learned about my brother's indiscretions which led to his arrest or my other brother's pride which kept him from talking to me or the arrival of my third child, another daughter. I can only imagine and I pray. I pray for peace and wisdom. I pray for comfort and strength.
I know in this fabric of life the stains are reminders of our broken world and give hope for healing and wholeness.
Until then, I wait and pray.

Dad Duty

In just a few short hours I will accompany five other dads and their toddlers on a train to Philly for a day at the Please Touch Museum. I know it's madness but it's just one of the many things we do for our kids. In one sense, it's nice to be able to do these crazy things with a community of guys who, though they are at least a decade younger than me, because of our shared state in life, we forge a unique bond.
No one said parenting would be easy but these moments when I get the chance to step back in time and enter into the world of my children are priceless. I am more aware than ever of my son's developing language and personality and I want to do what I can to fill his life with moments of wonder and inquiry. I want him to discover how big and wonderful his world is and encourage him to learn as much as he can about it.
Last year when we went with Janet's family, I was amazed at all that he could do even then in this museum and was looking forward to the time when we could take trips like this both as a way to bond and as a way to learn about the world around us.
Life is fleeting and, as so many of my friends have reminded me, these moments spent in quality time with our children will be gone before we know it. I want to be a parent who capitalizes on the opportunities to have fun with with my child and to give Janet a much needed break! Who needs to sleep anyway?

Morning Chaos!

No matter how much I may pray before I slip out of bed that I will be calm and happy and will show my kids love and a sense of humor, it never ceases to amaze me how quickly those early resolutions disintegrate with the reality of a world with selfish little people running around. It could be the infant crying from colic, my three year old son wanting to jump on me when I'm barely awake, or my 15 month daughter whining for an object that is out of her reach. Then they all want my attention and love and I'm just not in the mood to deal with the tears and the immaturity. Then I feel ashamed because, after all, they are only small children who have limited ways of communicating, much less exhibiting self control.
I then think about my own selfish cries for doing things my way. I want to be able to read in peace or go to a movie on my time or travel more but I can't - not at this stage of life. I know I am blessed but it still has its difficult moments, no matter how strong my resolve is. I imagine I will continue to fight these tensions until I die. As my inner spirit clashes with my desires which in turn clashes with the desires of my family, I hope I learn the meaning of consistent compromise that comes from love. I know I need to be willing to give up some of my pleasure - at least for the time being - in the interest of harmony and showing love and grace to my kids who are learning to grow up by watching me and the ways I sacrifice daily.
There were moments today when I sensed I had figured out a rhythm to my chaotic life and those moments felt really good. It was almost a surreal quality. I felt alive! These moments help me muddle my way through my own hypocrisy and force me to cling to moments of grace as assurance of hope that all will one day be right and my fears and insecurities that come from the daunting task of parenthood will subside.
Until then, I need to grit my teeth and smile and wait.

Summer Daze

Today as I wandered around Dutch Wonderland Park with my young kids, I couldn't help but wonder what happened to my summer and how do other parents of young children do it. How do they manage to parent in a respectable way and still have some semblance of sanity and "a life".
I wondered this as I watched parents of all shapes and sizes banter and play with their kids in the spurting water. Most seemed calm and relaxed and many looked proud of their kids as they steadied them on plastic whales for photo shoots and lots of failed attempts at a dignified pose.
If I looked really close, I might see the traces of weariness mingled with the fun of the moment. I think I saw this because, in my reflection, I saw it in myself.
One of the reasons why I am willing to drive to the other side of town in 90 degree heat even though I am exhausted is because I want my children to first of all, have many important experiences in their youth - experiences that will shape them and help them understand themselves and their world more clearly. I thought about this as I watched my three-year-old son become more bold in his play in the water and as I had to keep a watchful eye on my energetic 15 month old daughter who is fearless and who plunges into life with exuberance. I want them both to understand the dangers of life without risk.
This brings me to my second desire for my kids. I want to model for them the important ways we interact with our world and,especially with our families. I want to help them become bold and thoughtful, caring and responsible. As I see a wide range of humanity trying to answer the same questions that I pose to myself, I realize I am not alone in this quest for purpose and responsibility and that gives me hope. So, even when I am weary, I know this is important and it has been done countless times by millions of people for generations. Sometimes we fail miserably but we pick ourselves up and keep on going. Sometimes when our children do or say something truly remarkable, we can take a step backwards and remember those moments and the ways they help us know that what we are doing is important and meaningful.

My Cancer Year

Yesterday I learned I have cancer - more specifically, basal carcinoma - a common skin cancer with fairly straightforward treatment. It came about when I was walking with my son on my shoulders about 18 months ago. He grabbed my forehead in a playful way and drew blood and since then it hasn't fully healed. My doctors have started asking questions and their worries turned out to be true.

Janet has not responded well. She tears up every time I mention it and I understand why. We have had a dreadful year full of pain in our family and then add to the fact that my birth mother died of skin cancer when I was young and those fears are well founded.

When life hits you hard in the groin, you may get up but you hobble, nonetheless. I guess that's the nature of life - unpredictable and messy.

In the midst of this craziness, God has blessed us with three beautiful children - one who is just 7 weeks old. Taking care of these gifts is what keeps me going in times like these. Knowing I have kids who depend on me for their livelihood and who unequivocally love me - at least for now helps me cope.

Like many people who have gone before me, I will go on and find beauty and strength in uncommon things: a child's giggles, a flourishing garden, a belly laugh with good friends at a pub or cafe, fresh produce, and relaxing music. I can look back on my life and remember the many wonderful occasions that shaped me. I can have courage that even in the midst of chaos and confusion, every day beauty can emerge and refresh my soul.

The Flow

Go with the flow! As a father of three young children who is also teaching two new graduate courses and trying to have some semblance of sanity, that adage is more true than ever. There are days when it is just enough to have survived it with my wits intact for it be a success. I am learning that being a parent means that I need to give up so much of my personal time and space so that there are times when I wonder who I really am.

When I am in the midst of chasing after my three year old son who has hit his sister yet one more time or am changing another rank nappy, I sometime feel I am really in a rhythm, a flow if you will where I just hunker down and do what I need to do in order get me and my family out the other end of sanity.

In the midst of it all, I do love it. I know this is where I am and where I need to be. I love that I straddle two worlds that involve nurture. In my one world I am nurturing young children as they develop language and social skills. In my other world I am nurturing new teachers who are learning about their own learning which in turn helps them develop the learning of the adolescents who will be under their care. Both are daunting tasks which require patience and a sense of humor.

When I find the time to reflect on my current lot in life, I realize that not only am I in the flow but I also have found life's meaning: giving to those who are vulnerable and not yet independent in the hope that they will one day sprout wings and fly!

My roots

This week I spent time with two of my relatives from my birth mother's family: My Aunt Joyce in Honeyoye Falls, NY and my Uncle Jim in Wrightsville, PA. Getting to know them better has given me a glimpse into who I am and makes me wonder about the role my family will play in shaping my own children.

Without a doubt I resemble this side of the family. I remember when my wife met my aunt right after we got married and how instantaneously she recognized the family resemblance. Since I was but five when my mother died of melanoma, these precious relatives are my only link to the woman who not only bore me and raised me in my early years but who taught me to read. Given my current profession of English professor, this is a significant contribution.

Besides having similar physical features to these relatives, I realize after spending time with them that I also share an emotional bond to them. After listening to their stories, some told in anger while others were told through tears, I saw in them a shared connection in the ways we care deeply for people. All of us long to make connections both with our families and with the outside world. Jim does so in an extraverted way while Joyce is bubbly and wears her heart on her sleeve. I was moved by how much love they have for me, in spite of it being years since they saw me. I was touched by the ways life has taken its toll on all of us but was moved by the ways they have risen above these trials and now see the deeper meaning behind the pain in their lives.

I know that my identity is mirrored in their eyes and, while I know our lives have their own unique twists and turns, we are connected and will always be family. In a year where I have become truly an orphan, this is good to know.

Reflecting Truth

This weekend I attended a unique art event in Rochester, NY: Culture Crawl: http://www.rochestercitynewspaper.com/events/choice/2011/03/SPECIAL-EVENT-City-Newspapers-Cultural-Crawl-4-16/

All throughout this artsy city (who knew?) were FREE venues where one could dance, sing, watch, listen, hum, draw, write, gape, and laugh. You could venture into a converted service station that is now a theater and watch the cast of Tommy practice for an upcoming performance or learn a range of dance movements and their significance, or sit in on a musical theater competition at the Eastman School of Music OR laugh at a ridiculous improv show OR create a poem from newspaper strips in a converted old house. It was fun and a fitting way to spend a windy-rainy-nasty day.

It also made me wonder more than once why we create and how we decide to use the media that we do. More importantly, I wonder how we use art to communicate the truth in our lives. Do we need to tell our stories because as humans we thrive on this truth telling practice and then do we choose our form of doing this because we are complex and creative and beings that reflect truth, beauty, and goodness in the most mundane of life? Are there art forms that are truer expressions of this experience? Can we classify art as "bad" if it reflects truth in some way?

I am sure these questions will continue to reverberate in my head as I look closer at the world around me...

I Bleed

" It seems only yesterday I used to believe

there was nothing under my skin but light.

If you cut me I would shine.

But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,

I skin my knees. I bleed."

Billy Collins "On Turning Ten"

Life has a way of getting more ragged and "real". Somehow we attempt to navigate its crags with determination and creativity. We pick ourselves up and reinvent ourselves and try to find a better way of "doing it". Even when we make a stramache everything, we revel in the exhilaration that comes from at least trying.

For me, this is evident in my teaching and my parenting. I continue to reassess and try something new in order to make it better and to help my children/students grow and learn while I also learn and grow. It means that sometimes I do all that I can to keep them innocent while at other times I reveal the harshness of this world, knowing that this revelation is important, too.

Spring again!

The weather has taken a pleasantly warm turn today and it feels good! The daffodils and crocuses are blooming around lampposts and bushes. Undergrads are strolling around campus in shorts and flip flops, and the week is drawing to a close. Now that Spring Break has passed, the semester is downhill now.

I continue to be amazed at the ways my students are making connections between our coursework and their own lives. They are meeting together to discuss ways their writing can improve and in what venues they can publish. They have even helped to organize our first annual poetry reading called Poetry Aloud which will be held on First Friday at Millersville's downtown campus. We even have Lancaster's first poet laureate attending! Best of all, my students are telling their stories in powerful ways and are finding healing in the process. This is one of the best parts of my job.