Community

Desperation begets community. That realization of "I cannot do this" followed by "but someone has; I wonder who?" The answer often saves my bacon. Newton made famous Bernard of Chartres idea that we are like dwarfs on the shoulders on giants, so that we can see more than they, and things at a greater distance, not by virtue of any sharpness of sight on our part, or any physical distinction, but because we are carried high and raised up by their giant size. Whenever I pass by the classroom poster with that quote on it, I picture what I must look like crawling to the top of my mentors' shoulders while handing my students a ladder to stand on mine. And, yes, some days my life as a teacher feels a bit like a bad circus act.

Last night, I had the opportunity to return to my alma mater for a homecoming roundtable discussion designed to allow students and alumni to dialogue about the best vocation ever. I had the honor to chair the panel comprised of four other colleagues who have taught in private or public education institutions across the country. It was a tremendous time of community building between the current students of the college and those of us who called it home for so many years. Each of us in the room had shared in the same traditions, a common core curriculum, and conversed with the same professors. It was such an encouragement to look back and see how in a few short years I went from being that anxious college student to a professional. As students asked questions about topics ranging from classroom management to the pros and cons of teaching in a public school, I kept thinking of how none of this is possible without community. Those who have come before modeling teacherhood and now here I am doing the same to a lesser extent for those just a few years my junior.

I remember sitting at my desk as an overwhelmed, first year teacher trying to write a syllabus, curriculum map, classroom procedures, and unit plans. And it was is in those moments I remembered a singularly important piece of advice I received from a professor, "when it comes to [lesson] planning, be a pirate: unapologetically beg, borrow, and steal." What I did not realize at the time was that this process is what builds community within the world of pedagogues. I used to be terrified to admit to anyone, much less my coworkers, that there are just some things I cannot do, do not know, or execute very badly; and I need help! After teaching for five years, I am proud to say that this tendency has been smashed to smithereens; and I am a much better person for it.

During the roundtable discussions, a student asked how teachers network. Within the business world, networking is primarily utilized to find new jobs, locate potential employees or promote a product in a new market. The process feels a bit like an elaborate hunt. You know the shape and size of your prized target and you do everything in your power to maneuver yourself to the perfect position for that introduction which will change your life. Bam! Target acquired, check that one off the list. Next! Juxtaposed to the hunter is the gatherer. The person more interested in the choice berries, many in variety, which can be found in common places; perhaps, less thrilling than the hunt, but the results are just as satisfying.  In the educational community, networking is your sanity. It enables you to find those people who have been doing your job a year or a score of years longer, who have a treasure trove of stories and wisdom to share. Wendell Berry writes in The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays that, "a proper community, we should remember also, is a commonwealth: a place, a resource, an economy. It answers the needs, practical as well as social and spiritual, of its members―among them the need to need one another." Being committed to lifelong learning comes with it a commitment to learning from those we encounter and realizing that we cannot do life, much less education, well without them.

During the roundtable discussion, another student asked how teachers in a Christian school counteract the rampant spiritual apathy of  those students who have been raised in a Christian home, go to church on Sunday and attend a Christian school five days a week. I got to thinking what this looks like in my classroom. It seems that one of the most powerful ways to counteract apathetic Christianity is to model for students what it means to be a godly woman, passionate about living life. The things I share with my students often surprise them. It is not unusual for me to begin class with a story from the previous evening's dinner.  

My husband and I enjoy hosting interesting people at our home for dinner or if they live far away, we will meet halfway at a restaurant. We get so excited to just talk about big ideas and feel incredibly refreshed after stimulating conversation in a way that is different from almost any other time spent pursuing hobbies or activities. I am naturally an introvert and spent many years thinking that life was just a lot less messy when fewer people were involved. After living with my extremely extroverted husband, I have been converted to the opinion that quality time with quality people enriches life. In fact, I find myself learning so much more from people than books these days. I'm beginning to realize that intentional community is worth the effort. When I tell my students of fun dinner conversations, they ask me how I know so many cool people. It's fun to tell them that interesting people are all around, you just have to take the time to look for them and the effort to cultivate relationship. The same goes for teaching. Looking for those people who have "been there and done that" is worth the effort and enriches the process. It's part of standing on the shoulders of giants.

Meaningful community fills life with zest, sweetens our time here on earth, and points us towards those things which are most important. And as educators, community is certainly what keeps us sane. I hope that this blog becomes a place for us to network as teachers, share resources, ideas and encouragement; and that it helps us to see just a bit farther than those who came before us.

Blessings,

Mrs. Ting