A Classroom of Equality

            What do I really want in the college classroom? As an instructor, it really boils down to equality. The system constrains me to be the source of knowledge, the light of motivation and the shepherd for the sheep. While smart and educated, I’m not that knowledgeable. While motivated, I don’t have that much inner light. While caring, I just don’t have that much love to give.

            I long for students to enter the classroom and give their education direction without being prompted and prodded. There’s a certain pack mentality in the classroom. The teacher must be the Alpha Dog. This social structure may work for dogs, but it is entirely insufficient for learning—particularly if that learning is creative.

            Imagine for a moment the ideal creative team. Such a team would function far differently from a classroom. Roles wouldn’t be hierarchal. They would be fluid and vary from situation to situation. Each person would be talented, have input and be driven to fulfill the team’s mission. Each person would have the self-knowledge and self-control to know when to become the leader and when to become a follower. Each individual would be intrinsically motivated and extrinsically focused on the team.

            Our education system is the exact opposite of this ideal team. Students are extrinsically motivated and internally focused on themselves. The prime motivator is the points one earns. From a student’s perspective, it’s a psychological version of capitalism without any customers. From my perspective, it feels like a one-man hunger for democracy. Certainly, students may want democratic procedures in the classroom, but what few want is the selfless desire for collective good that is a requirement for a fully functioning democracy.

            This desire for democratic equality extends to how I fit in the system as a whole. My voice has little to no say in the real decisions concerning education. My voice is underpaid and underappreciated. Quite simply, those above me do not want democracy. They want the status quo, because it protects their profits, prestige and power. They want all the benefits of capitalism, but want their personal accountability to the system’s successfulness shielded behind hegemonic buttresses. This doesn’t just apply to for-profit education. The corporate selfishness of get-mine-even-if-others-suffer permeates.

            My students view me through a subordinate-to-superior relationship. Such relationships always weaken the subordinate, because the driving force is seldom internal—the true wellspring of creativity and fulfillment. Such relationships have two possible effects on the superior. If the superior cares, it leads to burnout, because the intrinsic motivation of one is insufficient to meet the extrinsic motivation of many. If the superior doesn’t care, it sets up a situation where abuse occurs.

            Those above me view me through a superior-to-subordinate relationship. If someone thinks they are superior to another, it leads to callousness, ignorance or often both.

            These thoughts bring a sadness to my heart. I see within my students an entire universe of talent, drive and creativity that the system has blinded them to see. They are more (much more) than they think they can be. It also brings sadness, because I realize I am more (much more) than the system allows me to be. People are ground to the point of being over-burdened or under-utilized, because the system puts us into over and under relationships. What we need is more equality.

Start of a New Term

Dazed looks. That’s what the Monday after having a week off for Thanksgiving looks like from the front of the classroom. I could tell their minds were still on turkey and mashed taters. To be honest, I’d rather be home in front of the tube eating turkey and mashed taters.

Where I teach, we have a week off for Thanksgiving and one for Christmas. We just started a new term. So, it’s three weeks and then Christmas break. The start of a new term is a foggy experience by itself. Add in those nostalgic for the family times of the previous week and those dreaming of sugar drop fairies, snowmen and Santa Claus and the holiday blur begins.

I honestly don’t blame my students for not being entirely there. I’m not entirely there. It doesn’t help that I spent several hours at the emergency room last night. My dad fell and hit his head. He’s going to be fine. Of course, there was the frantic phone call, the unexpected knock on the door and the drive to the ER. I wasn’t looking for all that excitement. Truth be told, I was enjoying a Sunday nap. It wasn’t just a regular nap. I was under deep. When all the excitement woke me up, I was groggy for a good fifteen minutes.

So, the holiday season begins. I wish it could be slowed down—a real vacation from work, no family emergencies, no crazy drivers (boy, the holiday spirit was evident on route 8 this morning), no need for presents or any of the holiday trimmings. It would be nice for one year to just relax and get away from it all. It wouldn’t matter if I was on a beach or in front of the tube. It would just be nice to have no responsibilities—none at work, none with the family, nothing that needed to get done—simply a time to veg with family and friends. Is that too much to ask for?

Reasons to be Thankful

This past year has been rough. Last year at this time my dad was recovering from surgery from 4^th stage cancer. He’s had a rough battle. He suffered, but he is getting stronger. January 2^nd of this year my Uncle Ted passed away—a victim of cancer. I have a good friend from college whose dad passed away earlier this year. When I was in college we’d spend the weekend over at his house and his parents treated me like I was their own son. I also have memories of my Grandpa. Years ago he was diagnosed with terminal cancer the day after Thanksgiving and passed away on January 2^nd.

As I consider all this, I have many things to be thankful for. My dad is still alive. I see him fighting back. His struggle has given me a new vigor for life. I’m less intimidated by things. On occasion I perform standup comedy. I’m less worried about failure. A bad night on stage doesn’t seem so bad. I sent in a tryout video for America’s Got Talent. Will they call? It doesn’t really matter. If they do, I’ll take the stage. I’ve been writing more and pursuing the dream of one day being self-employed—writing, speaking and being creative.

I have had some sad moments thinking of my Uncle Ted. However, I realized one important thing. I don’t have a single bad memory of Uncle Ted—not one! He was a gentle man that showed love to all and brought joy to those around him. I was blessed to know him. My life is better because of his life.

As I think of my friend’s father, I have similar thoughts. He showed me love—true, Christian love. He was kind and intelligent. Perhaps with those I’ve lost, I can take the best parts of them and carry those things forward.

With my Grandpa, I have some great stories. He liked to drink and I can look back and laugh at his antic. The last few months of his life I had a special relationship with him. He called me, “My pastor”. I was comfort to a dying man. I also saw Grandpa put down the bottle as his best friend and grab hold of Jesus. I saw there was a kindness and compassion that alcohol had hidden. Those last few months there was an intimate bond that few share with another person.

I can look at those around me and see blessings. My mom has been a great strength to dad. I admire her character and steadfastness. I’ll have a chance to spend time with mom and dad over Thanksgiving. The antics of their two cats are also a blessing. Gizmo and Bootsy are true characters. I also have my brother. He’s one of the most hardworking and compassionate people I know. He’s also wired differently than anyone else I know, so he has an offbeat, ornery sense of humor that I love. Truly I have much to be thankful for this holiday season.

The Term's End

I’m in week nine of a ten-week academic term. It’s this part of the term that really begins to drag. Students are tired. Faculty are tired. We’re there, but we’re not really there.

It’s now when pleas from failing students can arise. I’ve seen it happen. Someone doesn’t work the whole semester and all of a sudden they want to make up everything at the end. I’m now a seasoned teacher, so I no longer fall for the gambit. I enforce the late policies I established the first day.

While it may seem the worst students would be the most difficult, at this time of the term it’s often the best students. I’ve seen students with high A’s who are so tense and worried about their grade. They scratch and claw as if they are losing grip, when in reality they have nothing to worry about.

I think one of the things that has brought me success as a teacher is that I feel students. It’s like I have a sixth sense. Whatever mood they’re in—happy, sad, frustrated, exhausted or whatever—I feel it. At times the mood hangs in the air. There’s a palpable exhaustion and infuriation that wanders the halls. Unfortunately, it penetrates me. But, I’m the teacher and I have to be the one to supply energy and positivity. I know if I didn’t care, I’d be far less effective; yet, I also firmly believe if I didn’t care, the job would be far less stressful.

Lately teaching has become both more stressful and easier at the same time. It’s hard to explain, but I know I’m burnt out and I question how much good general education classes (which is what I primarily teach) do for students. Most students just do what is necessary to make it through. Without vibrant emotional engagement, little learning occurs. I also ponder how different academia is from the real world and also how incongruent it is with how we learn. In academia we package information, but that information can only be packaged after it has been slaughtered, dissected and sterilized. If the whole system is a flop, does the efforts of one instructor really make that much difference? And, if I don’t make that much difference, why put in the effort? This makes it more stressful, because it’s harder to keep my motivation up; but, it also makes it less stressful, because I’m not giving the same effort. In truth, I’ve grown burnt out.

It’s about this time in the semester that I’m really figuring out how to teach my students. Each student has a unique set of needs, wants, personality traits and learning styles. Each classroom is a unique mixture of individuals and develops it’s own personality and needs. It takes a while to figure out how to adapt what I know to their needs. But, these ten-week terms are too short. I’m just figuring them out when we’re entering the downward spiral of the final weeks. I somewhat envy those that teach elementary students. At least they have time to really develop the needed relationship with students. They actually have the chance to know their students. Of course, I also think this could be a real stressor. There are certain students I only want for ten weeks.

So, this is where I find myself this Monday morning. It’s probably the same place many teachers find themselves—questioning not just themselves, but also the system they exist within.

The Neophyte

            The Neophyte sat in the chair looking across the desk at the Bishop. The chair was well padded, but had one spring poking the Neophyte in the left buttock. The Neophyte didn’t give it a second thought, but the chair was trying his best to give him a warning. “Beware of the Bishop. He’ll bite you in the ass.”

            The Neophyte scanned the large, cedar desk. On one corner were a mouse, keyboard and monitor. On the other corner was a large Bible. It was nearly 6 inches thick and was covered in red leather. It sat upon a small pile of handwritten notes. The heft seemed the sole justification for the imposing pulpit sitting a few hundred yards away in the sanctuary.

            Behind the desk was shelving containing several thousand books. The books knew it was just a sham. The Bishop wasn’t a man of letters. When he did occasionally consume a book, it wasn’t for knowledge. He was merely analyzing its form for techniques to use to communicate his messages, which were more showmanship than substance.

            Behind the imposing desk sat the Bishop, rocking back and forth in his black leather chair. The Neophyte casually glanced at the Bishop’s stern face and gold glasses, but then his eyes were fixed for several seconds on the Bishop’s suit. The sheen of the fine silk glimmered in the light beaming through the office window. The light hit the Bishop’s ring—solid gold with diamonds surrounding a ruby.

            The ring emanated a rainbow. The Neophyte was beguiled by its gaze. He peered at the ring and the ring appeared to stare back.

            The Neophyte’s concentration was broken by the booming voice of the Bishop. “So, you’re the one.”

            “Um, . . . ah, I-I-I don’t know.” The Neophyte felt sure the tremors in his stomach were a moving of the Holy Spirit. After watching the Bishop for years from a distance, the Neophyte was sure every aspect of the Bishop’s ministry emanated from the Holy Spirit.

            The Bishop sat up in his chair and proclaimed in a slightly louder voice, “So, you’re the one.”

            “I’m, . . . n-not sure what you mean by that.”

            “The Elders have told me about you. You’re quite a charismatic young men.”

            “Well, thanks.”

            “Yes, yes. You have the look. You have the voice. You have the strut. You have what it takes to increase my ministry.”

            The Neophyte wasn’t sure what to say. He sat frozen.

            “Do you know what I’m offering you?”

            “I’m not sure.”

            “You’ll be my anointed. You’ll help to shepherd the flock. With you in my stable, we will build the fold—bigger and grander. You’ll be my right hand man.”

            The Neophyte wasn’t sure what to say. He stared at the Bishop.

            The Bishop stared back. “Are you in?”

            “Huh? I’m, . . . um, . . .”

            “Take a breath young man and listen.” The Bishop stared him in the eyes. “I’m offering you the role of being my right hand man. Are you in?”

            “I, I, I guess so.”

            “No guessing. I need a firm commitment. Are you in?”

            The Neophyte sat up in his chair. The chair tried its best to give one last warning, digging deep into his backside. By this time the Neophyte was too beguiled to even notice. He stiffened his spine, looked the Bishop straight in the eyes and forcefully said, “Yes!”

            “Good, good. Now, before we go any further, I have to tell you a secret.”

            The Neophyte felt God’s hand must be moving. “A secret from the Bishop”, he thought. “It must be a message from God.”

            “I want you to listen closely. Everything you see, I mean everything, is an illusion. My preaching, my ministry, the miracles are all an illusion.”

            The Neophyte was stunned. He sat listening in silence.

            “It’s all about control and power. It’s made me a wealthy man.”

            “I, I-I’m, . . . not sure.”

            The Bishop reached his burly paw across the desk and grabbed the Neophyte by the collar. “You tell this secret and you’ll be ostracized. If I disown you, your family and friends will disown you. You will be all alone—no connection, no help and no guidance in this world.”

            The Neophyte grimaced as the Bishop’s paw tightened his collar. The Bishop let go and sat back in his chair. The two stared at each other for several minutes, like two prizefighters measuring up their opponent.

            The Bishop broke the silence. “I know what you’re thinking. How could this all be a lie? Well, it’s not a lie. It’s a reality that I’ve created. There’s nothing like power, son. Nothing!”

            The Neophyte was again beguiled by the Bishop’s ring.

            “That’s twenty-four karat. And, the ruby is real. Feel it.” The Bishop took off the ring and handed it to the Neophyte.

            The Neophyte was shocked by the heft of the ring. The ring glimmered—a prize to be had, an object to be coveted.

            The Bishop chuckled. “Oh, there’s more. There’s so much more to power than just things. Power is erotic.”

            The Neophyte sat in silent contemplation.

            The Bishop leaned back in his chair. He cocked his head and peered quizzically at the Neophyte for several minutes. He was measuring him up.

            The Neophyte was bewildered. “Could this all be a lie?” he thought to himself. “I couldn’t be that easily deceived.”

            The Bishop broke the silence. “I know what you’re thinking. I couldn’t possibly be that deceived!”

            The Neophyte was shocked and a little scared. Could the Bishop read his mind? He continued to sit there, motionless and in utter silence.

            The Bishop again broke the silence. “That’s the secret of control. Yes, yes. The secret is people won’t admit they’re deceived.”

            That last statement was so shocking, it broke the Neophyte’s silent contemplation. He had to engage the Bishop at this point. Curiosity was pushing him to find his voice. “No? How can that be?”

            The Bishop chuckled. “Son, you need to understand human nature if you want to control them. It’s really quite simple. People are prideful. And, people are self-serving slackers. But, people don’t want to admit to those things. So, it allows one to control others. You just have to learn a few techniques.”

            The Neophyte forcefully responded. “So, you’re just, . . . a performer!”

            “Well, that’s one way to look at it. Let me just begin with the statement that people won’t admit they’re wrong. What’s at the root of that?”

            “Um, . . Pride? Pride is the root of that.”

            “Right. And, what does the Bible say about pride?”

            “Pride comes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.”

            “Exactly. And, what do they fall for?”

            “Well, I don’t know.”

            “I’ll give you a hint. You’re holding it.”

            The Neophyte had completely forgotten the ring in his hand. He held up the ring and looked at it. The ring, in the most beguiling way, looked back at him chuckling.

            “It’s all about the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life.”

            The Neophyte was confused. “But, all those things are in the Bible.”

            The Bishop peered at him for a few seconds. “Yes, it’s all in the Bible. Why does that surprise you?”

            “Aren’t we supposed to use the Bible for good? To help people? It’s not a manual about how to manipulate others!”

            “Well, it depends on your perspective, now doesn’t it? There are all kinds of commands for people to do good. And, you can use that to control people as well.”

            “That’s not my point. The Bible isn’t about controlling others. It’s about loving our neighbors.”

            The Bishop stared the Neophyte in the eyes for a few moments. It was the beguiling gaze of a serpent before it delivers its deathblow. “You don’t understand young man. The Bible is both. It can be used either way. It can be used to serve others. There are many that do that. Just look at all the small churches in the area. Lesser men with lesser ministries may use it that way. But, the Bible teaches us about human nature. And, when you understand the nature of man, you can control him. You can harness him, just like a farmer harnesses a mule. Or, a jockey harnesses a horse. Or, a butcher leads cattle to slaughter. You can turn him left or right. And, you can do it all for your own glory.”

            “But, that’s not right!”

            “Put on the ring!”

            The Neophyte stared back at the Bishop incredulously.

            The Bishop rose, slamming both hands forcefully on his desk and uttered in a shattering voice, “PUT ON THE RING!”

            The Neophyte put on the ring and stared at it. The ring gleamed back, smiling like a beguiling serpent. The cool metal caressed his skin. The heft spoke of power. The Neophyte was intoxicated.

            “You may keep the ring.”

            The Neophyte was taken by surprise. “Oh, no, . . . I-I-I couldn’t possibly . . .”

            “Keep the ring!” The Bishop sat back down and watched the Neophyte stare at the ring. “Can you see why I call power erotic?”

            “This is a nice ring!”

            “Now, see that picture on my wall?” The Bishop pointed at a picture of the Politician.

            “Yeah, I see it. What about it?”

            “Do you know who that is?”

            “Well, sure, that’s the Politician.”

            “What do you think of his policies?”

            “Well, I don’t know. Good and bad I guess?”

            “Good and bad.” The Bishop chuckled. “Okay, are you happy about the war the Politician started.”

            “Well, no, not really. It all seems to be about oil and power.”

            “Are you happy the Politician gave all that money to the banks.”

            “Well, no. I mean, we really needed that money and he gave it to the rich.”

            “Are you happy about the scandal?”

            The Neophyte was a little confused. “Which one?”

            “How about the one where he gave arms to the Terrorist.”

            “Well, no. Those people want to kill us.”

            “How about the one where the Corporate Head poured toxins in the river?”

            “Well, no. People drink that water.”

            “What about the one where they lost all those files on the government computers?”

            “Well, no. That was a huge security breach.”

            “So, what has he done that you’ve liked?”

            The Neophyte sat silent for several seconds. He then boldly proclaimed, “Yeah, but he’s still better than the other guy!”

            The Bishop laughed maniacally.

            “What’s so funny?”

            “You voted for the Politicians, didn’t you?”

            “Of course I did. We all voted for the Politician.”

            “So, why did you vote for him?”

            “I told you. He was better than the other guy?”

            “Why?”

            “Why? I don’t know. The other guy was an idiot.”

            “See, see, here’s my point. The Politician has done nothing but evil. Yet, you still defend him. Why don’t you just admit you were duped?”

            “I wasn’t duped!”

            “You weren’t?”

            “No!”

            “And that, my young friend, is a huge part of controlling people. You won’t admit you were duped. You were, but you won’t admit it. You’re too prideful.” The Bishop rocked back and forth in his chair for several seconds and smiled at the Neophyte. “So, how did he dupe you?”

            “I wasn’t duped!”

            “Okay, okay. You weren’t duped. So, how did he dupe all those other people?”

            “Well, he told lies.”

            “Okay, he told lies. But, what kind of lies?”

            “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. What do you mean what kind of lies?”

            “What exact lies did the Politicians tell?”

            “Well, he promised us jobs.”

            “Okay.”

            “And, he promised us wealth.”

            “Good, good. What else did he promise?”

            “Healthcare. And, um, . . . a return to national pride?”

            “Anything else?”

            “Safety from our enemies.”

            “Anything else?”

            “I’m sure there’s more, but that’s all I can remember right now.”

            “Okay, think about that list: jobs, wealth, health, national pride and safety. Does that sound a lot like the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life?”

            “I guess so. What are you getting at?”

            “He told lies, but not just any lies. He told the lies everyone wanted to hear. That’s where the self-serving part comes in. Promise people what they want and you’ll hook them. You don’t have to hook them for long. So many people out there are just like you. They won’t admit they were duped, but they were. And, the only real commitment they made to the Politician was one or two votes. Just a few seconds in a voter’s both and that commitment is enough to make them defend the man.”

            “That can’t be true!”

            “Oh, it is. Get people to believe a lie they already want to believe in. Once they make the smallest of commitments, their pride stops them from admitting they were duped. Pride and self-centeredness work in tandem. You work one side, you’ll fail. But, when you work them both you can lead people around by the nose. That’s what the Politician did.”

            “This all seems so unreal.”

            “Yes, but there’s another part to it.”

            “So, it is more complex.”

            “Well, yes and no. This next part really isn’t all that complex. Remember what I told you about people?”

            “Um, . . . which part?”

            “Well, they aren’t just self-serving, but they are self-serving . . . ?”

            “They’re self-serving slackers.”

            “Right. People are slackers. They’re lazy. They don’t want to be responsible for their own actions. They want the easy way out.”

            “What’s that got to do with power?”

            “People hand over the reins?”

            “I’m not sure I get you. Hand over the reins?”

            “Okay, let’s say we were to drive across the entire country—from New York to Los Angeles.”

            “That’s a long drive.”

            The Bishop chuckled. “Sure is. So, if you had the choice between doing the driving or kicking back as a passenger, which would you choose?”

            “I suppose I’d be a passenger. That driving is a lotta work.”

            “Right. There you have it.”

            “Have what?”

            “Driving is a lotta work.”

            “What? I’m not following. How does this apply to controlling people?”

            “People don’t want to be behind the wheel. They want someone else to do the driving.”

            “You mean, they hand over control of their lives, because being in charge is too much work?”

            The Bishop glimmered at the Neophyte. “Now, you got it.”

            “So, wait, it’s all about manipulating pride, self-centeredness and laziness.”

            “Those three are the trinity of control. And, here’s another dirty little secret.”

            The Neophyte leaned in close to hear.

            The Bishop whispered. “Deep down, people know they are being prideful. They know they are being self-serving. They know they are lazy. And, all those things make them feel guilt. And, guilty people are far easier to neuter.”

            The Neophyte sat in silent contemplation.

            The Bishop gave him several minutes to let the truth sink in. “Okay, here’s the biggest lie.” The Bishop took a long pause.

            The Neophyte held his breathe, waiting to here this.

            “I’m the biggest lie.”

            “What?”

            “I’m the biggest lie.”

            “Huh?”

            “You like that ring, don’t you.”

            The Neophyte stared at the beguiling serpent caressing his finger. “Yes!”

            “People look at me and they see the ring. They see the suit. They see the Mercedes. They see my lovely wife. Hell, that damn woman doesn’t even love me, but she’s a great piece of eye candy. And, they want what I got. It’s as simple as that. I can take what they have, because they want what I got. I control them through this lie I’ve created.”

            The Neophyte continued to stare at the beguiling serpent.

            “Do you know what that ring is worth?”

            “Um, . . . ah, . . . I have no idea.”

            “Easily fifty or sixty grand.”

            “Whoa!”

            “Now, young man, you have a choice to make. We’ll meet again in a week—same time, same office. If you take my offer, the ring is your. You can sell it, pawn it, wear it, it’s yours to do with whatever you want. That ring is a new car. That ring is a beautiful woman. That ring is fine clothes. That ring can be yours. Or, in a week you can reject my offer and return the ring.”

            “Wait, so if I keep the ring then I’ll be your assistant.”

            “Not just assistant. You’ll be my anointed. You’ll share in all my wealth, all my power, all my influence. Everything the world has to offer will be yours.”

            “And, if I give back the ring I reject your offer.”

            “That’s right. If you reject the ring, you may be that do-gooder you see in the Bible. You can serve your fellow man. You can make the world a better place. You can feed the hungry and clothe the homeless. That’s the choice the Bible leaves you with. You can either serve God and your fellow man; or, you can use it as a tool to control others. You have a week to decide.”

            The Neophyte continued to stare at the beguiling serpent. He felt the Bishop’s large paw grasping his elbow and lifting him from his seat. He is escorted towards the door.

            As the door closed, the Bishop’s booming voice is heard. “One week. You decide.”