One of the ways my wife and I express our love for one another is to go to our favorite diner each with our own book or newspaper and, after placing our orders with the waitress, start reading as if the other one doesn't exist. Occasionally, as the waitress refills our coffee or brings our order, we will look up, thank the waitress, briefly look deep into each others eyes, smile and then go back to our reading.
It's been that way for ten years. Through good times and bad. In sickness and in health. Through three children, the last of whom is finally able to dress and toilet herself. They are still young, though, and, needless to say, our deep reading doesn't work when the children come with us. But, sometimes, we try.
This past weekend, the five of us went to breakfast together. As I was playing tic tac toe with my four-year-old, losing for the seventh time and trying to keep my nine-year-old from saying "Dad, you're letting her win" (he thinks he won all of his four-year-old games by skill), my wife opened a magazine.
It was one of those free, local, parenting magazines that are heavy on ads and articles about local businesses that are just longer, more involved ads. As I glanced over in deep envy that she had managed the reading part of the meal, the following, appropriately colored headline leaped at me from the page: Pink Legos and other gender stereotypes!
OK, the exclamation point wasn't there, but it might as well have been, because this was one of those all-call alerts that send latter day feminists everywhere running to the ramparts. But, as is the norm these days, the print alert was but an echo of the online world. The Lego Group Inc., which has made a bundle by crafting their Legos into Star Wars and other sci-fi/fantasy models which mostly appeal to boys, had sinned by creating purple and pink ones that build cute houses they hoped would appeal to girls.
"Immediately, parents of girls began responding via blogs and social media sites...Many moms, especially, saw the new Legos as sexist and argued that girls could play with blue, yellow and red blocks just as easily as they could pink and purple ones," Holly Wall wrote in her "Natural Mom" column.
Something, however, almost stopped her. Something which might stop any busy parent who counts her minutes as precious–she doesn't have daughters. "I didn't initially think, as a mother of boys, that the issue concerned me," she writes. And, all of us who are too busy to raise other people's kids might have heartily affirmed her in that thought. But–
"I quickly changed my mind," she said. "Gender stereotypes, even when they're focused on girls, affect boys just as well...I don't want my sons to think that girls should only play with pink things, or that girls can't do or be any of the things boys can do or be."
As the father of two daughters, I have to say that pink and purple Legos, shown here, don't stand a chance of keeping my daughters from opportunities like a good education, a good job and a positive image of themselves as capable women. In fact, if they like the pink blocks and play with them, they might develop spatial reasoning skills that will help them later in life. And, if they want the regular Legos? Well, they can go get them out of the box in the toy room that they've been ignoring all this time.
Perhaps more importantly for Mrs. Wall and her sisters in arms, though, I can guarantee that my son and other boys don't care one Duplo block about the toys girls play with. Boys and girls play in their own worlds and the best efforts of modern feminists have yet to be able to change that. While those worlds frequently interesect in games and toys both boys and girls like, given a free choice in the toy room, my son goes for Nerf guns and Legos, my daughters go for baby dolls and make-up kits.
As part of her submission to what is correct and unstereotypical, the article shows a picture of her son, aged about two to three falling down after walking around in her high heels. She takes this as a sensitivity lesson. He took it, no doubt, as walking around on stilts. Similarly, when my son was about the same age, he asked for a baby doll. We gave it to him and he ran around the house holding it above his head making airplane noises. I doubt he was pretending to be a mommy. But, perhaps, we should just let Mrs. Wall think she's done her part for the cause.
The problem, as countless liberal-minded parents have found through the years, is that so much of who our children will be is already determined by the time we get them home from the hospital. Biologically, they will be male or female, boys or girls. Boys will grow up to be men and fathers. Girls will grow up to women and mothers.
Spiritually, too, God created us either male or female and nothing we do afterwards will change that. We don't have generic souls plugged into gender-specific bodies. God creates each soul specially for each person and an intrinsic aspect of that soul is its femaleness or maleness.
It's an imperfect world and there's a lot we can do to strenghthen our children or weaken them. And, it's tempting to think that if we can just micromanage their lives down to the color of their Legos that they will turn out according to our designs. But, our affect on our children is often made in broad strokes and what we do with our own lives is frequently more important to what they become than what we do to theirs. Because, to a great extent, their play is an imitation of our adult lives and they are learning to be either men or women, fathers or mothers from us.
(Mrs. Wall's article under a different, less interesting headline than the print version, is online here).
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Pinewood Derby
We are now on the three-week countdown and we haven't even started. I've been waiting until we were past the post-Christmas decoration removal, the back-to-work projects I couldn't procrastinate, and the Star Wars Lego kit which was for eight- to 14-year-olds but which confounded my nine-year-old son in stage two.
Actually, it nearly confounded his 45-year-old father who remembers Legos being a lot less complicated when he was a kid. But, off and on, over a three-week period, we got Lego Darth Maul's stealth ship together. We even took the "extra" pieces and made a service droid to float around fixing things.
The reward of it, for me, was getting to watch my son play exactly the way I did when I was a boy and bond with him while he still needs and wants me around. I teach middle school. I know this time doesn't last. I love watching him lose himself in play the same way I did and wish I still could.
But, the next big project looms. This year I volunteered to be Cub Scout Bear den leader. I volunteered in much the same way I volunteered to coach my son's soccer and basketball teams in previous years despite having no coaching experience whatsoever (I got word nobody else had volunteered and that it was all a no-go without a parent taking charge).
Den leader or not, though, the Pinewood Derby engages every Cub Scout dad. I remember when I was a cub, my dad would clear his schedule on a Saturday afternoon, draw a sketch of the car on a piece of paper, get all of the tools together, and make the car in about three to four hours in the garage. My part in it was typical for that generation of dads--I got to watch. My dad even had his own twist on having me watch. Every time I tried to go play or do something more interesting than watching him make the car, he would stop me and tell me to pay attention because he was doing it for me.
I didn't want to do it that way. I wanted my son to learn something and take pride in completing a project. During his Bobcat Cub year, though, he was seven. Although I let him put his hands on it and do some carving and sanding, I did most of it. I even guided his design which, ultimately, wasn't that great because the car kept stalling before the end of the track. Two years later and he still won't let me hear the end of it.
In his Wolf Cub year, he designed the car and was able to do a lot more on his own. Although I still had to do a lot of the heavy carving, it really was his project. And he placed third in the Wolf division, complete with trophy. Add that to the first-year, dad-designed flop of a car and you have the stuff of childhood memories that I'll be hearing about when I'm a grandfather.
This year, my son is nine and already has decided that he wants to follow the same design as last year with modifications to make it go even faster. Who am I to argue? So far, he's proven better at design than I have. I'll still have to do a lot of the more serious carving but his car will be even more his project this year.
Of course, when you don't follow my father's method of doing it yourself and handing the kid the car at the end, you wind up spending a lot more time on it. That's why the three-week countdown is so pressing. Because our weeks are an overscheduled blur, most of our work will be done on the weekends which means we've got to get started today. So, while Darth Maul still needs two tie fighters to escort his stealth ship, he'll just have to fly solo for the next few weeks.
(For a really funny take on the Pinewood Derby and the dads who try to do it all see the movie Down and Derby)
Actually, it nearly confounded his 45-year-old father who remembers Legos being a lot less complicated when he was a kid. But, off and on, over a three-week period, we got Lego Darth Maul's stealth ship together. We even took the "extra" pieces and made a service droid to float around fixing things.
The reward of it, for me, was getting to watch my son play exactly the way I did when I was a boy and bond with him while he still needs and wants me around. I teach middle school. I know this time doesn't last. I love watching him lose himself in play the same way I did and wish I still could.
But, the next big project looms. This year I volunteered to be Cub Scout Bear den leader. I volunteered in much the same way I volunteered to coach my son's soccer and basketball teams in previous years despite having no coaching experience whatsoever (I got word nobody else had volunteered and that it was all a no-go without a parent taking charge).
Den leader or not, though, the Pinewood Derby engages every Cub Scout dad. I remember when I was a cub, my dad would clear his schedule on a Saturday afternoon, draw a sketch of the car on a piece of paper, get all of the tools together, and make the car in about three to four hours in the garage. My part in it was typical for that generation of dads--I got to watch. My dad even had his own twist on having me watch. Every time I tried to go play or do something more interesting than watching him make the car, he would stop me and tell me to pay attention because he was doing it for me.
I didn't want to do it that way. I wanted my son to learn something and take pride in completing a project. During his Bobcat Cub year, though, he was seven. Although I let him put his hands on it and do some carving and sanding, I did most of it. I even guided his design which, ultimately, wasn't that great because the car kept stalling before the end of the track. Two years later and he still won't let me hear the end of it.
In his Wolf Cub year, he designed the car and was able to do a lot more on his own. Although I still had to do a lot of the heavy carving, it really was his project. And he placed third in the Wolf division, complete with trophy. Add that to the first-year, dad-designed flop of a car and you have the stuff of childhood memories that I'll be hearing about when I'm a grandfather.
This year, my son is nine and already has decided that he wants to follow the same design as last year with modifications to make it go even faster. Who am I to argue? So far, he's proven better at design than I have. I'll still have to do a lot of the more serious carving but his car will be even more his project this year.
Of course, when you don't follow my father's method of doing it yourself and handing the kid the car at the end, you wind up spending a lot more time on it. That's why the three-week countdown is so pressing. Because our weeks are an overscheduled blur, most of our work will be done on the weekends which means we've got to get started today. So, while Darth Maul still needs two tie fighters to escort his stealth ship, he'll just have to fly solo for the next few weeks.
(For a really funny take on the Pinewood Derby and the dads who try to do it all see the movie Down and Derby)
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
(Im)Patience
Years ago when my confessions were becoming kind of same-y (same stuff, different week), my confessor suggested that I was, perhaps, so focused on those seemingly intractable sins that I was missing others. He asked me how I went about examining my conscience and, finding that I used the "whatever I can remember in the few moments before I walk into church" method, suggested I dig deeper with a written examination of conscience.
Now, such examinations are to be found in almost every Catholic church. They are frequently of the laminated, tri-fold variety and go through a fairly intense and exhaustive list of sins that plague the 21st Century man. This particular church kept them in the place that I was least likely to find them: right next to the confessional. But since that day when they were pointed out to me, I have almost always used a formal examination of conscience to prepare for confession.
One of the sins that I discovered by this new method was the sin of impatience. Of course, I was well aware that I was impatient. And, well, I still am. But, that was the first time I had ever seen it referred to as a sin. I knew that showing impatience with someone was bad in the sense that it was rude. However, that it was sinful was something new. Reading further, I found that impatience is closely related to anger and both are a sin against the Commandment "Thou Shalt Not Kill."
OK, I thought. How does that work? I've never killed anybody with whom I was impatient, although I sometimes imagined evil befalling them. That imagining was the link. What I learned was that the Commandments while seeming to enjoin only a few things, actually enjoin all things within certain broader categories.
So, the Commandment "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultry"also enjoins fornication and all the other acts of sexual impurity. And, because Jesus said in his Sermon on the Mount that "whoever looks at a married woman and lusts after her has already committed adultery in his heart" one would also have to include mentally dwelling on impure thoughts as a violation of the Commandment.
It's the same way with "Thou Shalt Not Kill." In the same sermon Jesus said "You have heard that it was said to the people of long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment. But, I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment." So dwelling on angry thoughts although you never plan on physically carrying them out gets you a rap under the Commandment. It doesn't take much to see that impatience is very close to anger as it often becomes anger in our hearts very quickly.
Since that time, I've made it a point to work on my impatience. For years, I worked on simply avoiding those situations where I might have to queue up and wait. I shopped during off hours and planned vacations during off seasons. I worked out routes to and from work that involved the fewest number of traffic lights. I went to confession early because, yes, waiting behind other people so I could confess the sin of impatience made me very impatient.
Still, while that was successful in narrowing my outward expressions of impatience to moments of cursing in my car (as if the windshield were guilty of offending me), I had a lot of work to do to become patient in my heart. Lately, as I've continued to work my way through Father de Caussade's spiritual classic "Abandonment to Divine Providence," I've made some progress. I've started to view lining up and other setbacks inherent in the modern world as the divine will--that God wills these things for my life not because they are good in themselves, but because God uses them to make me a better person more pleasing to him.
"Look upon yourself then...as a statue under the hands of a sculptor, or like a stone which is chipped and cut with the chisel and hammer to make it the right shape to take its place in a beautiful building. If this stone could feel, and if, while it thus suffered it asked you what it should do in so much pain, you would, without doubt, reply 'Keep perfectly quiet in the hands of the workman and let him proceed with his work, otherwise, you will always remain a rough, common piece of stone.'"
Viewing those times of waiting as opportunities for perfection instead of inconveniences has changed my attitude both inwardly and outwardly. I've still got a lot of roughness left to smooth. But it's nice to be making progress.
Now, such examinations are to be found in almost every Catholic church. They are frequently of the laminated, tri-fold variety and go through a fairly intense and exhaustive list of sins that plague the 21st Century man. This particular church kept them in the place that I was least likely to find them: right next to the confessional. But since that day when they were pointed out to me, I have almost always used a formal examination of conscience to prepare for confession.
One of the sins that I discovered by this new method was the sin of impatience. Of course, I was well aware that I was impatient. And, well, I still am. But, that was the first time I had ever seen it referred to as a sin. I knew that showing impatience with someone was bad in the sense that it was rude. However, that it was sinful was something new. Reading further, I found that impatience is closely related to anger and both are a sin against the Commandment "Thou Shalt Not Kill."
OK, I thought. How does that work? I've never killed anybody with whom I was impatient, although I sometimes imagined evil befalling them. That imagining was the link. What I learned was that the Commandments while seeming to enjoin only a few things, actually enjoin all things within certain broader categories.
So, the Commandment "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultry"also enjoins fornication and all the other acts of sexual impurity. And, because Jesus said in his Sermon on the Mount that "whoever looks at a married woman and lusts after her has already committed adultery in his heart" one would also have to include mentally dwelling on impure thoughts as a violation of the Commandment.
It's the same way with "Thou Shalt Not Kill." In the same sermon Jesus said "You have heard that it was said to the people of long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment. But, I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment." So dwelling on angry thoughts although you never plan on physically carrying them out gets you a rap under the Commandment. It doesn't take much to see that impatience is very close to anger as it often becomes anger in our hearts very quickly.
Since that time, I've made it a point to work on my impatience. For years, I worked on simply avoiding those situations where I might have to queue up and wait. I shopped during off hours and planned vacations during off seasons. I worked out routes to and from work that involved the fewest number of traffic lights. I went to confession early because, yes, waiting behind other people so I could confess the sin of impatience made me very impatient.
Still, while that was successful in narrowing my outward expressions of impatience to moments of cursing in my car (as if the windshield were guilty of offending me), I had a lot of work to do to become patient in my heart. Lately, as I've continued to work my way through Father de Caussade's spiritual classic "Abandonment to Divine Providence," I've made some progress. I've started to view lining up and other setbacks inherent in the modern world as the divine will--that God wills these things for my life not because they are good in themselves, but because God uses them to make me a better person more pleasing to him.
"Look upon yourself then...as a statue under the hands of a sculptor, or like a stone which is chipped and cut with the chisel and hammer to make it the right shape to take its place in a beautiful building. If this stone could feel, and if, while it thus suffered it asked you what it should do in so much pain, you would, without doubt, reply 'Keep perfectly quiet in the hands of the workman and let him proceed with his work, otherwise, you will always remain a rough, common piece of stone.'"
Viewing those times of waiting as opportunities for perfection instead of inconveniences has changed my attitude both inwardly and outwardly. I've still got a lot of roughness left to smooth. But it's nice to be making progress.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sinner (Not me, this time)
One of the best things about having satellite radio is being able to listen to The Catholic Channel on SiriusXM Channel 129. The channel, which is operated by the Archdiocese of New York, replicates the popular talk radio format of AM radio but with a Catholic riff.
While I wouldn't recommend the channel's entire line-up because some of it is both as faithful as EWTN and as boring, there are stand-outs that compare in talent and content with the best of secular radio. Most notable of these is the "The Catholic Guy" which is broadcast in afternoon drive time (3 to 6 p.m. in the central U.S.). Starting at the exact time I leave work each day, "The Catholic Guy" dovetails with my schedule in a way very little else does. Still, like much of talk radio, you can tune in at any point and be up to speed within a few minutes.
Lino Rulli, the host of the show, is an unlikely combination of faithful Catholic and Howard Stern fan. His show is similar in format to Stern's, without the porn. A former TV news reporter in the Minneapolis market, he is a two-time Emmy award winner for his work in secular media and for hosting "Generation Cross," one of his early efforts at making Catholic media entertaining (his catchphrase: Catholic TV people want to watch).
Some of his show segments: "The Eleventh Commandment," "Things That Drive You Crazy at Mass" and "Lino is Sorry," will give you the accurate impression that the show is both personal and willing to push the envelope a bit. Rulli dives into topics we all talk about but don't often include in our evangelization efforts.
Given the talk-show format, it was almost inevitable that Rulli would write a book and use his show to sell it. It's usually at this point that I switch from fan to skeptic. My reading time is made up of precious moments that I guard jealously. Further, I've got great books figuratively stacked to the roof of my two-and-a-half story house that will keep me engaged for the rest of my life.
However, because the convenience of Kindle makes such temptations harder to resist, I downloaded it. And, I'm glad I did. Last month, I recommended "Breakfast with the Pope," a serious yet engaging account of one woman's faith journey. Rulli's book, "Sinner," is its natural complement. Both authors are John Paul II Generation Catholics. Both had brief, personal experiences with the late, great Pope that they recount. But, while "Breakfast" has and admirable honesty and earnestness, "Sinner" has a refreshing honesty and humor.
I expected "Sinner" to be funny given my experience listening to Rulli on "The Catholic Guy." I didn't expect it to be non-stop funny. The book is a collection of twenty-six short, readable reflections on moments of his life. There were only a few I didn't laugh out loud while reading and even those few were entertaining.
Rulli's life in many ways is typical of the lives of members of our generation. He recounts being arrested, twice, for underage drinking and having to face both the courts and his parents. His second offense garners him time in an alcohol awareness class.
"I thought the class name was ironic, though, since it was obvious I was aware of alcohol," he writes. "Within six months I'd been arrested twice...My problem wasn't awareness, my problem was getting caught. I'd have been much better served in a police officer awareness class."
Those moments of generational solidarity in shared moments (I never got arrested but knew people who needed police officer awareness really badly) are mixed with some of Rulli's unique experiences like when his father decided to quit his job as a corrections officer to become an organ grinder--and asked his son to play the role of the monkey and go up and ask people for money.
Rulli also takes us to the Holy Land and to Bangkok, in recent decades noted mostly for it's sex and drug culture. He also takes us to Rome for brief encounters with the Pope and on a road trip to Alaska. Through it all, he manages to seamlessly weave in both catechesis and evangelization. His tutorial on how to go to confession if you never have before is worth the price of the book (yes, it's very funny but it will get you through the Sacrament in good order).
Rulli turned 40 recently and is still single. In "Sinner" and on his radio show, he talks about his struggles to find a woman to marry and his investigation of religious life and how neither, to date, has worked out. Although he would probably disagree, he comes across to me as one of those people who is genuinely called to the chaste, single life. He does have a lot to share, though, and we can all be grateful that he has found a venue to share it. I highly recommend both his show and his book.
"Sinner" is available at Amazon and other major outlets. For those without satellite radio, a weekly "Best of The Catholic Guy" podcast is available through iTunes.
While I wouldn't recommend the channel's entire line-up because some of it is both as faithful as EWTN and as boring, there are stand-outs that compare in talent and content with the best of secular radio. Most notable of these is the "The Catholic Guy" which is broadcast in afternoon drive time (3 to 6 p.m. in the central U.S.). Starting at the exact time I leave work each day, "The Catholic Guy" dovetails with my schedule in a way very little else does. Still, like much of talk radio, you can tune in at any point and be up to speed within a few minutes.
Lino Rulli, the host of the show, is an unlikely combination of faithful Catholic and Howard Stern fan. His show is similar in format to Stern's, without the porn. A former TV news reporter in the Minneapolis market, he is a two-time Emmy award winner for his work in secular media and for hosting "Generation Cross," one of his early efforts at making Catholic media entertaining (his catchphrase: Catholic TV people want to watch).
Some of his show segments: "The Eleventh Commandment," "Things That Drive You Crazy at Mass" and "Lino is Sorry," will give you the accurate impression that the show is both personal and willing to push the envelope a bit. Rulli dives into topics we all talk about but don't often include in our evangelization efforts.
Given the talk-show format, it was almost inevitable that Rulli would write a book and use his show to sell it. It's usually at this point that I switch from fan to skeptic. My reading time is made up of precious moments that I guard jealously. Further, I've got great books figuratively stacked to the roof of my two-and-a-half story house that will keep me engaged for the rest of my life.
However, because the convenience of Kindle makes such temptations harder to resist, I downloaded it. And, I'm glad I did. Last month, I recommended "Breakfast with the Pope," a serious yet engaging account of one woman's faith journey. Rulli's book, "Sinner," is its natural complement. Both authors are John Paul II Generation Catholics. Both had brief, personal experiences with the late, great Pope that they recount. But, while "Breakfast" has and admirable honesty and earnestness, "Sinner" has a refreshing honesty and humor.
I expected "Sinner" to be funny given my experience listening to Rulli on "The Catholic Guy." I didn't expect it to be non-stop funny. The book is a collection of twenty-six short, readable reflections on moments of his life. There were only a few I didn't laugh out loud while reading and even those few were entertaining.
Rulli's life in many ways is typical of the lives of members of our generation. He recounts being arrested, twice, for underage drinking and having to face both the courts and his parents. His second offense garners him time in an alcohol awareness class.
"I thought the class name was ironic, though, since it was obvious I was aware of alcohol," he writes. "Within six months I'd been arrested twice...My problem wasn't awareness, my problem was getting caught. I'd have been much better served in a police officer awareness class."
Those moments of generational solidarity in shared moments (I never got arrested but knew people who needed police officer awareness really badly) are mixed with some of Rulli's unique experiences like when his father decided to quit his job as a corrections officer to become an organ grinder--and asked his son to play the role of the monkey and go up and ask people for money.
Rulli also takes us to the Holy Land and to Bangkok, in recent decades noted mostly for it's sex and drug culture. He also takes us to Rome for brief encounters with the Pope and on a road trip to Alaska. Through it all, he manages to seamlessly weave in both catechesis and evangelization. His tutorial on how to go to confession if you never have before is worth the price of the book (yes, it's very funny but it will get you through the Sacrament in good order).
Rulli turned 40 recently and is still single. In "Sinner" and on his radio show, he talks about his struggles to find a woman to marry and his investigation of religious life and how neither, to date, has worked out. Although he would probably disagree, he comes across to me as one of those people who is genuinely called to the chaste, single life. He does have a lot to share, though, and we can all be grateful that he has found a venue to share it. I highly recommend both his show and his book.
"Sinner" is available at Amazon and other major outlets. For those without satellite radio, a weekly "Best of The Catholic Guy" podcast is available through iTunes.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Father Magrini
Back in 2006, I wrote several short stories that I published mostly online. However, the one that I thought was my best was published in a small print journal, Hereditas, which has since gone out of publication. I always meant to do more with the main character of this story, but got busy with fatherhood and never did. I'm reprinting it here in the hopes that you will enjoy it and that, perhaps, I will get the inspiration to go further with the character in new stories. "Father Magrini's Sure Thing" is on a separate page here. If you find it worthwhile, you are welcome to print copies to share.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Great (Sales) Commission
Early this morning, before my wife and kids awoke, I sat in the living room drinking some really great Guatemalan coffee. It was bold and dark as all the best coffees are. And, it had come to me by way of a missionary who was planning a trip to Guatemala because she wasn't aware that the Central American country is already Christian.
I didn't tell her. She was only fourteen or so, and she was one of the neighborhood kids. She had come to the house sometime before Christmas asking if I would buy coffee as part of her church youth group fundraiser and she made delivery yesterday.
Now, I live in a great neighborhood that has lots of kids. The neighborhood elementary school is fabulous and the middle and high school are tops, too. As part of the deal when you move into this neighborhood, you pay higher property taxes and agree that you will be subject to every school and organization fundraiser all those kids will be participating in to cover the extras that the taxes don't.
I don't mind. My kids sell to the neighbors. The neighbors' kids sell to me. The few older empty-nesters who haven't moved on are either excellent sports or the people we take our kids to to learn how to handle rejection.
My rules for buying fundraising material are fairly generous:
1) Kids who live in the neighborhood who are selling for school or scouts are an instant sell for one of whatever is being sold. The only exception is Girl Scout cookies which are a multiple buy.
2) Kids who are obviously not from the neighborhood get to make their pitch and a good cause gets a buy--but only if they have the item on hand. I've ordered enough magazines that never come.
3) Kids selling for non-school, non-scout causes like churches I don't go to get generous consideration but not automatic buys.
With number three, a youth group stands a really good shot at a sell--even if they are going on mission to Catholic countries, like the girl who was selling the coffee for her non-denominational Christian youth group. Some of you may already be way ahead of me and wondering how I can reconcile this with previous writings expounding on my commitment to my Catholic faith, and the need for Catholics to be Catholic first and American second.
The answer is in my experience with kids and the nature of those missions.
First, it's been my experience as a teacher that kids who are involved in just about any church do better than kids who aren't. They do better academically and socially, and are more likely to stay away from gangs, drugs and early sexual encounters. So, when my students talk about their youth group activities at school, I'm always very encouraging.
I have also recommended to unchurched kids and their parents the evangelical after-school program that sends a bus around to the school once a week. While I would prefer one of the local Catholic churches to take on that mission, Catholics are small in numbers in these parts. We do more than our share of charitable outreach, but we haven't gotten to this ministry yet and we don't send buses around to those without transportation. Also, the kids I usually recommend this program to live in a low-income apartment complex where adult supervision isn't always what it should be, and I'd rather have them in a church than hanging out with other unchurched kids doing whatever it takes to not be bored.
With both the churched and unchurched, I don't hesitate to share my faith or set the example, but I also don't try to superimpose my beliefs over those of their parents. Parents are the first teachers of their children, and public school teachers shouldn't be in competition with them--especially at the elementary and middle school levels.
Second, I've learned over the years that youth group missions are more about the kids than the people to whom they are missioning. I always wondered when I was a teenager what the value was of missioning to the beaches in Florida or the ski slopes in Colorado. Later, it seemed that youth missions were going and doing charitable work in cities that already had lots of capable churches while missing opportunities just a few miles away.
Of course, in both cases, what was going on were religious-themed vacations. The kids were being ministered to in a setting that was fun and in which they were more likely to pay attention.
The girl who is off to Guatemala while leaving me with a good cup of coffee will be ministered to as well. She'll sing some songs about Jesus with the local inhabitants and help them build a home or school. It's more than likely that the impression the country and its people leave on her will be far more lasting than the impression she leaves on them.
We shouldn't make the perfect the enemy of the good. That she and the others grow up in a safe and caring environment and have positive experiences is something of which Jesus would approve. And there will be time when they are older (specifically, this age) to further evangelize them as to the truth of the Catholic Church.
I didn't tell her. She was only fourteen or so, and she was one of the neighborhood kids. She had come to the house sometime before Christmas asking if I would buy coffee as part of her church youth group fundraiser and she made delivery yesterday.
Now, I live in a great neighborhood that has lots of kids. The neighborhood elementary school is fabulous and the middle and high school are tops, too. As part of the deal when you move into this neighborhood, you pay higher property taxes and agree that you will be subject to every school and organization fundraiser all those kids will be participating in to cover the extras that the taxes don't.
I don't mind. My kids sell to the neighbors. The neighbors' kids sell to me. The few older empty-nesters who haven't moved on are either excellent sports or the people we take our kids to to learn how to handle rejection.
My rules for buying fundraising material are fairly generous:
1) Kids who live in the neighborhood who are selling for school or scouts are an instant sell for one of whatever is being sold. The only exception is Girl Scout cookies which are a multiple buy.
2) Kids who are obviously not from the neighborhood get to make their pitch and a good cause gets a buy--but only if they have the item on hand. I've ordered enough magazines that never come.
3) Kids selling for non-school, non-scout causes like churches I don't go to get generous consideration but not automatic buys.
With number three, a youth group stands a really good shot at a sell--even if they are going on mission to Catholic countries, like the girl who was selling the coffee for her non-denominational Christian youth group. Some of you may already be way ahead of me and wondering how I can reconcile this with previous writings expounding on my commitment to my Catholic faith, and the need for Catholics to be Catholic first and American second.
The answer is in my experience with kids and the nature of those missions.
First, it's been my experience as a teacher that kids who are involved in just about any church do better than kids who aren't. They do better academically and socially, and are more likely to stay away from gangs, drugs and early sexual encounters. So, when my students talk about their youth group activities at school, I'm always very encouraging.
I have also recommended to unchurched kids and their parents the evangelical after-school program that sends a bus around to the school once a week. While I would prefer one of the local Catholic churches to take on that mission, Catholics are small in numbers in these parts. We do more than our share of charitable outreach, but we haven't gotten to this ministry yet and we don't send buses around to those without transportation. Also, the kids I usually recommend this program to live in a low-income apartment complex where adult supervision isn't always what it should be, and I'd rather have them in a church than hanging out with other unchurched kids doing whatever it takes to not be bored.
With both the churched and unchurched, I don't hesitate to share my faith or set the example, but I also don't try to superimpose my beliefs over those of their parents. Parents are the first teachers of their children, and public school teachers shouldn't be in competition with them--especially at the elementary and middle school levels.
Second, I've learned over the years that youth group missions are more about the kids than the people to whom they are missioning. I always wondered when I was a teenager what the value was of missioning to the beaches in Florida or the ski slopes in Colorado. Later, it seemed that youth missions were going and doing charitable work in cities that already had lots of capable churches while missing opportunities just a few miles away.
Of course, in both cases, what was going on were religious-themed vacations. The kids were being ministered to in a setting that was fun and in which they were more likely to pay attention.
The girl who is off to Guatemala while leaving me with a good cup of coffee will be ministered to as well. She'll sing some songs about Jesus with the local inhabitants and help them build a home or school. It's more than likely that the impression the country and its people leave on her will be far more lasting than the impression she leaves on them.
We shouldn't make the perfect the enemy of the good. That she and the others grow up in a safe and caring environment and have positive experiences is something of which Jesus would approve. And there will be time when they are older (specifically, this age) to further evangelize them as to the truth of the Catholic Church.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Give unto Caesar
One of the most frustrating things you can do as a Catholic is to get into an argument over the Bible with an evangelical. It doesn't matter how well you know the Scriptures yourself or what verses you choose to make your argument, the evangelical or fundamentalist is always able to dive into the same book and find verses to argue the opposite case, sometimes without even taking those verses out of context. The problem is a lack of mutually recognized authority or even a shared standard of interpretation.
But despite this disagreement or, more likely, because of it, Bible-verse battles are one of America's most popular pastimes. Years ago, I was a subscriber to World magazine, an evangelical news magazine and a very well written one. Then I made the mistake of going into their blogs and trying to discuss various issues, complete with Bible-verse citations. I might as well have taken a King James Bible, cut it into individual verses, thrown them up in the air and let them rain down on my head.
I didn't do that, though. In the end, I went out into my yard and moved sharp rocks around the landscaping with my forehead as a way to more quickly achieve the same headache that several hours conversation with the committed fundamentalist would achieve. Well, close to the same headache. The rocks were softer and more forgiving.
But, I do have to give them that, in the world of professional Bible interpretation, they have the drive and stamina the sport demands.
Second only to freelance Bible interpretation, Americans love a good round of interpreting our country's Constitution. And the rules are much the same. You have to go into it with the strong conviction that you know what the authors of the document would say about the issue at hand if they were around today. It also helps if you have preconceived ideas about what the Constitution should say, even if it doesn't.
Unlike having different interpretations of the Bible, though, having different interpretations of the Constitution can have immediate consequences and so we've all agreed to submit our differing interpretations to the binding arbitration of the Supreme Court. Not that we'll agree with the usually five of nine justices who decide against our constitutional exegesis, just that we'll put up with it until we can get others more learned and reasonable like us on the court to replace the ideologues who ruled against our interpretation.
But, no matter how tolerant we are in allowing the government's high court to interpret the government's constitution, we expect that government will stay out of our Bible interpretation and other religious affairs. And this week their was a harmonious convergence between the two spheres.
In one of those rare 9-0 Supreme Court decisions, the justices unanimously ruled that federal anti-discrimination laws do not apply to churches and their ministers. The case in question was Hosanna-Tabor Evangelical Lutheran Church and School vs. the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. The original case revolved around a woman who was fired by the church after she had been on a leave of absence for narcolepsy. When she wanted to return, the church thought she wasn't ready. She threatened to sue and the church fired her for going outside of church channels to resolve the dispute.
The Obama administration through the EEOC argued that discrimination laws should apply to churches the same as other organizations. But the court agreed with the church and several other religious groups, including the U.S. Catholic Bishops, that such application of the law would give the government control over who a church could hire and fire as its ministers and thus, ultimately, control a church's message to the world. If discrimination laws applied to a church for those suffering a disability, they could also apply to a church for any of the groups Congress or the courts wanted to designate a minority. So, Catholic churches could be required to hire women as ordained ministers, Southern Baptists would have to hire homosexuals, Unitarians would have to hire Christians and so forth.
Because the court embodies an ideological left/right split, unanimous Supreme Court decisions are worth paying attention to, if for no other reason beyond why we all run out to see a full solar eclipse: it just doesn't happen that often and we all want to say that we saw it. But, more importantly, because having all nine justices in agreement gives us a secular Mount Tabor experience in which we can all stand in the light of a common clarity of purpose before going back to our disagreements.
This week, the Supreme Court got it right so that, win or lose, right or wrong, our scriptural interpretations and religious affairs are between ourselves and God and beyond the control of over-reaching government agencies and politicians.
But despite this disagreement or, more likely, because of it, Bible-verse battles are one of America's most popular pastimes. Years ago, I was a subscriber to World magazine, an evangelical news magazine and a very well written one. Then I made the mistake of going into their blogs and trying to discuss various issues, complete with Bible-verse citations. I might as well have taken a King James Bible, cut it into individual verses, thrown them up in the air and let them rain down on my head.
I didn't do that, though. In the end, I went out into my yard and moved sharp rocks around the landscaping with my forehead as a way to more quickly achieve the same headache that several hours conversation with the committed fundamentalist would achieve. Well, close to the same headache. The rocks were softer and more forgiving.
But, I do have to give them that, in the world of professional Bible interpretation, they have the drive and stamina the sport demands.
Second only to freelance Bible interpretation, Americans love a good round of interpreting our country's Constitution. And the rules are much the same. You have to go into it with the strong conviction that you know what the authors of the document would say about the issue at hand if they were around today. It also helps if you have preconceived ideas about what the Constitution should say, even if it doesn't.
Unlike having different interpretations of the Bible, though, having different interpretations of the Constitution can have immediate consequences and so we've all agreed to submit our differing interpretations to the binding arbitration of the Supreme Court. Not that we'll agree with the usually five of nine justices who decide against our constitutional exegesis, just that we'll put up with it until we can get others more learned and reasonable like us on the court to replace the ideologues who ruled against our interpretation.
But, no matter how tolerant we are in allowing the government's high court to interpret the government's constitution, we expect that government will stay out of our Bible interpretation and other religious affairs. And this week their was a harmonious convergence between the two spheres.
In one of those rare 9-0 Supreme Court decisions, the justices unanimously ruled that federal anti-discrimination laws do not apply to churches and their ministers. The case in question was Hosanna-Tabor Evangelical Lutheran Church and School vs. the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. The original case revolved around a woman who was fired by the church after she had been on a leave of absence for narcolepsy. When she wanted to return, the church thought she wasn't ready. She threatened to sue and the church fired her for going outside of church channels to resolve the dispute.
The Obama administration through the EEOC argued that discrimination laws should apply to churches the same as other organizations. But the court agreed with the church and several other religious groups, including the U.S. Catholic Bishops, that such application of the law would give the government control over who a church could hire and fire as its ministers and thus, ultimately, control a church's message to the world. If discrimination laws applied to a church for those suffering a disability, they could also apply to a church for any of the groups Congress or the courts wanted to designate a minority. So, Catholic churches could be required to hire women as ordained ministers, Southern Baptists would have to hire homosexuals, Unitarians would have to hire Christians and so forth.
Because the court embodies an ideological left/right split, unanimous Supreme Court decisions are worth paying attention to, if for no other reason beyond why we all run out to see a full solar eclipse: it just doesn't happen that often and we all want to say that we saw it. But, more importantly, because having all nine justices in agreement gives us a secular Mount Tabor experience in which we can all stand in the light of a common clarity of purpose before going back to our disagreements.
This week, the Supreme Court got it right so that, win or lose, right or wrong, our scriptural interpretations and religious affairs are between ourselves and God and beyond the control of over-reaching government agencies and politicians.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Religion and politics
My blogging has slowed over the past few days because I've been putting the final touches on a speech I was writing to be delivered at my parish men's group the Men of the Upper Room.
I want to thank those who attended for giving me such a warm reception, and I look forward to returning to their ranks next week to listen to our next speaker.
The speech ran thirty-five minutes and is too long to place on this page. So, I've placed it on a separate page here. I welcome your comments, which you can place here or at the end of the text on the linked page.
I want to thank those who attended for giving me such a warm reception, and I look forward to returning to their ranks next week to listen to our next speaker.
The speech ran thirty-five minutes and is too long to place on this page. So, I've placed it on a separate page here. I welcome your comments, which you can place here or at the end of the text on the linked page.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Don't judge me
Coming back to work following the Christmas break is always a busy time for me. The semester is either ending or a new one beginning. This year, the district calendar gives us a week and a half after the break to wrap up the first semester with our students.
Mostly that means finals and other testing. But in my class, it is a time for students to take that last breather before the new semester begins. I teach remedial education and for much of the last 17 school weeks, we've been engaged in keeping up with our other classes and doing some fun challenges to work on our thinking and organizational skills.
My group of students is a spectrum of kids that runs from those who are just having trouble with one class and need that little extra bit of help to succeed, to those who are generally failing because they come from homes where parents don't or can't help them be successful in school.
With the intentionally or unintentionally neglected kids, one can see that they are being raised by the TV and internet, and usually not to their moral betterment. These are the kids who don't understand why we are so in earnest about them learning and becoming honest, hard-working, productive adults. They are the kids who don't do homework and bubble pictures of cars or cats when given standardized tests rather than seriously answering the questions. That the test is "high stakes" and could mean a loss of funding for the district means nothing to them, except maybe, in a flash of misdirected genius, to observe that it's high stakes for us, the faculty, but not for them, the students.
One thing TV does give them, though, is excuses and I've heard them all through the years. But lately, they've gone beyond excuses to all-encompassing catch-phrase force fields that even prevent the serious discussion of a problem.
Just as you're beginning to discuss the numerous missed assignments that are dragging down a grade and keeping a student from learning, she'll launch with "Don't Judge Me!" loudly and with a gusto that expects everyone in the room to sympathize and come to her moral support. It's meant to imply that you, the teacher who is about to address her problem, actually has a bigger problem: being judgmental. And, yes, if it's in the schools, it was in the wider culture first.
This phrase grew out of a deliberate misreading of Christ's injunction to "Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged." "Don't Judge Me" is just a shorter, more forceful way of saying it that lends itself easier to loud exclamation. Of course, what Christ was saying was that we should not focus on the sin's of others when we have our own to battle and not to assume that others have sins that are greater than ours. It wasn't meant to prevent us from making everyday judgments about a person's strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures. And, it certainly, wasn't meant to give cover for deliberate poor performance or wrong-doing.
Like most catchy new excuses through the years, I at first stumbled through a rational explanation for why I wasn't judging her (or him). But catchy phrases require either catchy retorts or succinct, non-rebuttable counter-arguments.
Mine came to me one day just as one of the more dramatic of my students launched a "Don't Judge Me!" complete with sideways neck movement and a hand outstretched in "stop." I looked at her and calmy said:
"You know, when you've done something wrong, by the time you've said that, we've already judged you."
"No, stop!" she cried.
"I'm sorry, it's too late. Next time you don't want to be judged you'll have to refrain from doing things you might be judged on."
I've heard a lot less of "Don't Judge Me." Now, if only I could get past the offense-absolving "I'm Just Sayin'."
Mostly that means finals and other testing. But in my class, it is a time for students to take that last breather before the new semester begins. I teach remedial education and for much of the last 17 school weeks, we've been engaged in keeping up with our other classes and doing some fun challenges to work on our thinking and organizational skills.
My group of students is a spectrum of kids that runs from those who are just having trouble with one class and need that little extra bit of help to succeed, to those who are generally failing because they come from homes where parents don't or can't help them be successful in school.
With the intentionally or unintentionally neglected kids, one can see that they are being raised by the TV and internet, and usually not to their moral betterment. These are the kids who don't understand why we are so in earnest about them learning and becoming honest, hard-working, productive adults. They are the kids who don't do homework and bubble pictures of cars or cats when given standardized tests rather than seriously answering the questions. That the test is "high stakes" and could mean a loss of funding for the district means nothing to them, except maybe, in a flash of misdirected genius, to observe that it's high stakes for us, the faculty, but not for them, the students.
One thing TV does give them, though, is excuses and I've heard them all through the years. But lately, they've gone beyond excuses to all-encompassing catch-phrase force fields that even prevent the serious discussion of a problem.
Just as you're beginning to discuss the numerous missed assignments that are dragging down a grade and keeping a student from learning, she'll launch with "Don't Judge Me!" loudly and with a gusto that expects everyone in the room to sympathize and come to her moral support. It's meant to imply that you, the teacher who is about to address her problem, actually has a bigger problem: being judgmental. And, yes, if it's in the schools, it was in the wider culture first.
This phrase grew out of a deliberate misreading of Christ's injunction to "Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged." "Don't Judge Me" is just a shorter, more forceful way of saying it that lends itself easier to loud exclamation. Of course, what Christ was saying was that we should not focus on the sin's of others when we have our own to battle and not to assume that others have sins that are greater than ours. It wasn't meant to prevent us from making everyday judgments about a person's strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures. And, it certainly, wasn't meant to give cover for deliberate poor performance or wrong-doing.
Like most catchy new excuses through the years, I at first stumbled through a rational explanation for why I wasn't judging her (or him). But catchy phrases require either catchy retorts or succinct, non-rebuttable counter-arguments.
Mine came to me one day just as one of the more dramatic of my students launched a "Don't Judge Me!" complete with sideways neck movement and a hand outstretched in "stop." I looked at her and calmy said:
"You know, when you've done something wrong, by the time you've said that, we've already judged you."
"No, stop!" she cried.
"I'm sorry, it's too late. Next time you don't want to be judged you'll have to refrain from doing things you might be judged on."
I've heard a lot less of "Don't Judge Me." Now, if only I could get past the offense-absolving "I'm Just Sayin'."
Monday, January 2, 2012
A new year or, Back to work
Woke up. Fell out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head. Found my way
downstairs and had a cup. And, looking up, I noticed I was late...
I wasn't quite sure what morning song would match my mood on my first day back to work following the Christmas break. The above is from the Beatles "A Day in the Life." It wasn't my first thought, but seems to work the best.
Having come of age in the '80s, my first thought ran: Woke up in my clothes again this morning. I don't know exactly where I am... from Sting's "Shadows in the Rain" off of "The Dream of the Blue Turtles" album, but I realized that that would have been more accurate 20 years ago and, even then, a bit pretentiously too cool.
Then there was "Good Morning" from the 1940s movie "Singing in the Rain": Good morning, good morning, we've talked the whole night through...it's great to stay up late... which is more reflective of the insomnia I endured last night, but was way too cheerful about it.
What really happened, while thinking through three generations of morning songs, was that I rolled out of bed after a rotten night's sleep, went to the gym for my morning workout, went through the drive-thru at McDonald's and arrived late for the conference I was attending today. But, for once, I was glad I was at a big, full-auditorium conference because nobody noticed I was late.
Normally, I would make some comment about how the conference topic wasn't worth the effort of making it on time. I teach in a large suburban school district, and most of our professional development seminars fall into two categories: "dull as rocks" and "interesting but irrelevant to anything I happen to be doing." Occasionally you run into a hybrid "dull as rocks and irrelevant" conference or seminar, but that's usually because a lower level district administrator is trying to impress the superintendent.
Today, though, we had an educational researcher and consultant who was a very good speaker, anyway. And his topic was what keeps schools from implementing reform.
I've been teaching for fourteen years now, which is long enough to know that reform efforts come in about three-year cycles. Somebody at the district--any district--is charged with finding the newest, trendiest, reading or math program and imposing it on every class in every school, whether it fits or not, so that when the superintendent moves on to a bigger district in three years he'll have something to put on his resume.
But sometimes, while the ulterior motive is the same, the program that we adopt is actually worthwhile. We get excited about it, go to lots of meetings, do a lot of extra work to get things into place and then watch it be dropped at the first budget cut.
There are times, however, when it is the teachers who get in the way of a good initiative and that was the topic of our speaker's talk today. Probably, the guy was hired by the district because we are in the midst of "The Next Great Reading Program" and the superintendent wants us all on board.
Well, I'm on board. Mostly because I don't teach reading but despite the fact that I've got to go through the training anyway. I can see it has merit. I'm what our speaker today would call a "Believer." I'm willing to make the changes that are necessary to enhance student learning. And, while my faith in the bureaucracy is flagging, I still am open to the idea that we need to teach kids differently in the 21st Century than we did in the mid-20th.
However, as a Believer, I am up against those people our speaker described as "Fundamentalists," the teachers who don't want to change either because it doesn't suit their personal interest or because they've seen enough three-year cycles to just not want to fool with them any more. There are various levels of Fundamentalists, from the well-intentioned but mistaken, to the teacher who is going to be a roadblock to any new initiative just because she is happy with the status quo and doesn't want any of us changing it until she retires in the not-near-enough future.
There are two other groups, the new teachers and the burn-outs who need our care and concern and can have an adverse impact on change depending on how they're handled. But, the deck-of-the Death-Star light saber duel is between the Believers and the Fundamentalists.
I'm fortunate to work at a school where there are only a few of the latter and a lot more of the former. And, I know for a fact that none of the Fundamentalists are my father. So, that won't throw me when it comes time for a fight. Of course, I'd have to want to come out of my classroom and storm the teacher's lounge first--which I don't. Because, you see, my classroom is where the kids are and that's where I want to be. I guess I'm a sorry excuse for a Believer.
I wasn't quite sure what morning song would match my mood on my first day back to work following the Christmas break. The above is from the Beatles "A Day in the Life." It wasn't my first thought, but seems to work the best.
Having come of age in the '80s, my first thought ran: Woke up in my clothes again this morning. I don't know exactly where I am... from Sting's "Shadows in the Rain" off of "The Dream of the Blue Turtles" album, but I realized that that would have been more accurate 20 years ago and, even then, a bit pretentiously too cool.
Then there was "Good Morning" from the 1940s movie "Singing in the Rain": Good morning, good morning, we've talked the whole night through...it's great to stay up late... which is more reflective of the insomnia I endured last night, but was way too cheerful about it.
What really happened, while thinking through three generations of morning songs, was that I rolled out of bed after a rotten night's sleep, went to the gym for my morning workout, went through the drive-thru at McDonald's and arrived late for the conference I was attending today. But, for once, I was glad I was at a big, full-auditorium conference because nobody noticed I was late.
Normally, I would make some comment about how the conference topic wasn't worth the effort of making it on time. I teach in a large suburban school district, and most of our professional development seminars fall into two categories: "dull as rocks" and "interesting but irrelevant to anything I happen to be doing." Occasionally you run into a hybrid "dull as rocks and irrelevant" conference or seminar, but that's usually because a lower level district administrator is trying to impress the superintendent.
Today, though, we had an educational researcher and consultant who was a very good speaker, anyway. And his topic was what keeps schools from implementing reform.
I've been teaching for fourteen years now, which is long enough to know that reform efforts come in about three-year cycles. Somebody at the district--any district--is charged with finding the newest, trendiest, reading or math program and imposing it on every class in every school, whether it fits or not, so that when the superintendent moves on to a bigger district in three years he'll have something to put on his resume.
But sometimes, while the ulterior motive is the same, the program that we adopt is actually worthwhile. We get excited about it, go to lots of meetings, do a lot of extra work to get things into place and then watch it be dropped at the first budget cut.
There are times, however, when it is the teachers who get in the way of a good initiative and that was the topic of our speaker's talk today. Probably, the guy was hired by the district because we are in the midst of "The Next Great Reading Program" and the superintendent wants us all on board.
Well, I'm on board. Mostly because I don't teach reading but despite the fact that I've got to go through the training anyway. I can see it has merit. I'm what our speaker today would call a "Believer." I'm willing to make the changes that are necessary to enhance student learning. And, while my faith in the bureaucracy is flagging, I still am open to the idea that we need to teach kids differently in the 21st Century than we did in the mid-20th.
However, as a Believer, I am up against those people our speaker described as "Fundamentalists," the teachers who don't want to change either because it doesn't suit their personal interest or because they've seen enough three-year cycles to just not want to fool with them any more. There are various levels of Fundamentalists, from the well-intentioned but mistaken, to the teacher who is going to be a roadblock to any new initiative just because she is happy with the status quo and doesn't want any of us changing it until she retires in the not-near-enough future.
There are two other groups, the new teachers and the burn-outs who need our care and concern and can have an adverse impact on change depending on how they're handled. But, the deck-of-the Death-Star light saber duel is between the Believers and the Fundamentalists.
I'm fortunate to work at a school where there are only a few of the latter and a lot more of the former. And, I know for a fact that none of the Fundamentalists are my father. So, that won't throw me when it comes time for a fight. Of course, I'd have to want to come out of my classroom and storm the teacher's lounge first--which I don't. Because, you see, my classroom is where the kids are and that's where I want to be. I guess I'm a sorry excuse for a Believer.
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