Personal Studies

History is called social studies in K-12 education to focus people over facts. Social studies teaches kids how the world works so that, one day, they can make it better. Regardless of titles, content is king.

Imagine if we spent less time learning about how the world works and more time learning about how we work:

What we like

What we’re good at

Why we do the things we do

Where fear comes from

Why I can’t get over my grandfather’s death 15 years ago

If class was designed to help students learn about themselves first and how photosynthesis works second, maybe they would be set up for future success instead of a future test. Educators have the chance to change this. Now is the time.

Now is your time.

2 Kinds of Social Justice

One focusses on helping, ministering to, and advocating for the dispossessed, the outcast, the marginalized. By doing this, the downtrodden feel more worthy and more whole. More human.

The other tries to speak for the oppressed. To do this, self-proclaimed allies silence people who don’t agree with their viewpoint, creating echo-chambers of like-minded people. They want the world to look a certain way, a certain color. They use the indoctrinated public to leverage politicians to create more “equity” for all.

One works for justice by building others up. The other prefers chaos by burning the system down.

There are two kinds of social justice. It’s important we start distinguishing them, because they are not the same.

Libraries

I find myself attracted to large collections of books.

When I heard Fr. McNally’s library was going to be donated, I offered to help. Sorting, photographing, listing, and selling his personal collection of art books has been one of my summer projects.

The moment I saw the library at the school I’ll be working at, I knew I had to do something about it. Remember the Dewey Decimal System? Me neither. But I’m piecing the collection back together, book by book. Fiction. Reference. Biography. Pop Culture.

Maybe, one day, a student will break into the now welcoming library and feel invited to borrow a book. Perhaps the proper arrangement will help them find the book they need.

Also, maybe not. Most of the books I’ve handled this summer will never be read again. Most likely, I’m wasting my time. Books are ancient history anyways, right?

But there’s always a chance, and I’d spend countless hours creating the right set, setting, and place for that chance to happen.

Ping Pong

I’ve become obsessed. I just moved into a new community for the teaching program. There’s a table in the community room, so I folded it up and have been practicing. Every day. For about 2 hours a day. Just like Forrest Gump.

I play and listen to keynotes. I’ve listened to most Seth Godin talks on YouTube, and just today I listened to Charle’s Mann’s 1491 presentation. I haven’t found a better way to absorb information. It’s right up there with showering and driving. The ping pong table is my new classroom.

Where’s your classroom? Is it a place you can move, somewhere you can be stimulated so your brain and body both remember what you’re consuming? Or are you stuck at your desk, physically and metaphorically? What have you been learning?

The table is my new therapy, my new work station, my new brainstorming space, my new content absorption place in the universe. Where’s yours?

Classroom Rules

There’s going to be four rules in my classroom this year. They are:

  1. Do your best
  2. Tell the Truth
  3. Move Up! and Listen
  4. Don’t compare yourself to other people

These rules are straightforward, except for number 3. Move Up! and Listen means being generous enough to allow others to speak, and then give them the praise they deserve. Moving Up means not always being the one to talk but recognizing others have something to say, too. It doesn’t mean never speaking up, but only when it’s appropriate.

Could these rules be better? Absolutely. Should there be more rules? Probably. But as I see it today, these four guidelines are enough to make a classroom good.

It’s about creating spaces where people feel encouraged to learn. I’ve been doing this my whole life. Now I get to do it from behind a different desk.

Levels of Consciousness

If you look at the world it seems like human beings have won. They seem to be far more effective at surviving and thriving than any other complex life form. Humanity has spread across the globe and figured out how to live. They have conquered Earth; they are the champions of creation.

Humans are a unique kind of animal. That’s a given. But generally they also consider themselves on top (or at least close to the top, if spiritual beings are factored in) of the consciousness hierarchy in the living world. If you look at the premise of Reincarnation, souls climb up this hierarchy if they live good lives. From rocks to plants to animals to the most intelligent animal, humans.

But humans also have a lot of problems. They’re greedy, lustful, and vengeful. They deplete and destroy resources until only pollution is left. Not to mention the mental anguish of being a person: stress, anxiety, depression, trauma, heartbreak, and so on. Humans have existed for a while. They’e all but conquered the world. But most of them are deeply unhappy. They search for happiness in all the wrong places and are never satisfied.

A lot of other beings on Earth seems to be more satisfied than people. Trees are content growing and then being repurposed for tables and chairs. Herbs are content blossoming and being eaten. Indeed, the classic human definition for an “enlightened” person (stoic, unfazed, peaceful) sounds a lot like how plants live. They aren’t trying to change the world around them. They grow and do their best to provide shade.

Maybe humans have the hierarchy of consciousness backwards.

Keep Walking

There’s a plastic bag taped to
a streetlight in my town protecting
a piece of computer paper
with a message of hope on it.

I read it once and learned
that caterpillars grow alone
and maybe I do, too.
But I knew that already.

I kept walking but the
caterpillar’s eyes made me
uncomfortable. They followed me
to see if I would listen this time.

A mosquito bit my arm
and I killed it.
It’s hard being hideous in
a world full of miracles.

Every time I pass the taped bag
there’s another piece of paper
with another message of hope.
Tomorrow I’ll walk a different way.