Lebron and Delly: The Destination and the Journey

            Which is more important—the journey or the destination? If you’re a Cavs fan, we’re watching both in the NBA champions.

LEBRON JAMES—THE DESTINATION

            Lebron is the best player on the planet. He can do it all—score, run the offense, pass, rebound, block shots and make steals. He is the team leader—leading a battered Cavs team in hopes of a NBA championship. He’s consistently scoring around 40 points a night and constantly knocking on the door of a triple double.

            In isolation, he brings up memories of Larry Bird doing the same things for the Celtics. His athleticism to the hoop is reminiscent of Jordan. His passing and team leadership has been compared to Magic Johnson. Lebron might be so good that he’s better than these players. He is the Destination—the point where every NBA player hopes to be: the most dominant player on the court playing for a championship.

            Lebron represents where we all want to be—at that point where we’ve found our talent, developed it to a razor’s edge, and now use that talent to lead and impact those around us. Lebron is the Destination.

MATTHEW DELLAVEDOVA—THE JOURNEY

            Delly is the underdog—the guy people wrote off. He’s not supposed to be on that court guarding that guy. He’s only in his second NBA season, and he finds himself in the starting lineup given the task of guarding MVP Stephen Curry. In the last two games, he’s outplayed Curry seven out of eight quarters. He’s made the big plays—finding the offense board, hitting key free throws and finding the loose ball.

            There have been points where Delly has been great. He is an emerging player—finding his game, figuring out his style and learning how to handle himself on the court. He is the Journey.

            Delly represents where most of us are at in our lives. We’re trying to find ourselves. Sure, we have an idea, but we’re just not sure what we can become. But, he is unlike us in that he fearlessly tackles the task before him. He shows us what hard work and determination can accomplish. He shows us to forget about the naysayers and just play the game. Delly’s play is a metaphor for life—dive for the loose ball, take the big shot and be willing to define the game!

            How good can he become? Honestly, we don’t know. We do know he can bring big game to the big game. He can make the tough play when the game is on the line. As he matures, he’s going to also miss the big shot. It happens to every NBA player. As we watch, we can see he’s developing into a good player. But, we also see greatness piercing through. Whether Delly will develop the greatness to meet the fans’ hopes is yet to be known. But, he is good enough to give us that hope!

THE MAGNIFICENT DUO

            Lebron and Delly make a great pair. They spark each other and they spark their team. They’ve given a city hope—a hope for a championship that has been too long in the making. Lebron is the consummate basketball player—the best on the planet. He is the Destination. Delly is a young player finding his legs and showing us flashes of greatness—the underdog that pulls above his weight. He is the Journey. 

How Teachers are Wired

            As we consider the education system and all its shortcomings, we need to understand how teachers are wired. As we understand these personality traits, we will understand why so many are frustrated with the system.

WE DESIRE INTELLECTUAL STIMULATION

            Teachers are learners. They like to explore the world. They like ideas. They crave deep thought. What happens in the system? As one progresses up the educational caste system, one becomes a specialist—with an increasingly narrow focus. This is how the system is designed—as a funnel that constricts one’s focus into a pinpoint.

            What I’ve found is I’ve become board. I’m been teaching the same basic classes for over a decade. Sure, the students change. I’ve taught at different schools. Sometimes even the textbook or the name of the class will change, but it’s the same basic class at every college and with every group of students.

            There was a point where focusing on one topic was good. It allowed me to gain a mastery of the topic and of teaching that topic. But, after that peak, it became a downward slide. I’ve been type casted and I want to spread my wings, but the system doesn’t allow it.

WE LOVE FLEXING OUR CREATIVE MUSCLES

            One of the great joys of teaching is creating content—organizing materials, creating handouts, figuring out discussions, planning learning objectives and everything else involved in curriculum development. For a teacher, curriculum is our art form. We love our art and creating our art brings us joy.

            Does the system give us the freedom to create our art? No! We must meet department standards, school standards and accrediting standards. Someone else, who has little knowledge of our art and often cannot do it, tells us what to do and how to do it. As things become more standardized, and it has happened in the college system as well as K-12, instructors feel more like glorified secretaries as opposed to teachers. Someone else—someone far less skilled than we—is creating the content. And, what they are creating for us is exactly that. It’s content as opposed to being art.

WE GIVE OUR STRENGTH TO OTHERS

            When a teacher enters the classroom, the atmosphere changes. There is an excitement in the air. True teachers bring their spirits to others and freely gives their spirits. They inspire and impart, and that comes from their own spiritual energy (for lack of any better term).

            Not every person filling the role of teacher has this, but the true teacher does. There is a constant energy drain on the true teacher. They can’t stop that flow of energy. I know, because at times I wish I could. I wish I could give less to my students, because it is draining me.

            This is the double-edged sword of teaching. Yes, we want teachers with that personality. But, do we want to support those teachers? We give them students with behavioral problems and learning disabilities, but do we give them the training to deal with those difficult students? Do we give them the professional recognition and development they need? Do we help give them the means to recharge their batteries? In many cases, we don’t. The great teachers are often in a situation where they are constantly on drain and they are not given recharge. Ever wonder why the best teachers often leave and the worst teachers often stay? The ones that care become burnt out. The ones that don’t aren’t giving energy to their students. They don’t need a recharge, because they aren’t giving of themselves.

            In our system, great teachers are becoming burnt out. They aren’t given an environment where they can learn and spread their wings. They aren’t given the freedom to create their art. They are constantly drained without proper recharge. This is because of the way teachers are wired and because the system isn’t designed to work with this wiring.

Creating an Environment That Fosters Creativity

            I believe everyone is creative. However, most don’t believe it. So, how do you create an environment that fosters creativity? Let me share some pointers.

REMOVE FEAR

            The worst car I ever bought was a ’77 Malibu. The car had been mistreated before I bought it—a fact I didn’t learn until I owned the beast. The previous owners had not changed the oil as they should. The passages that allowed the oil to flow through the engine had become blocked. Oil was sitting on top of the valves. This caused serious oil burning.

            After the passages were cleared, the car ran better and used less oil. It only took a little sludge to cause massive engine problems. The brain has a sludge that blocks the flow of lubrication through its engine. That sludge is fear. Ever have to give a speech and your brain freezes? Ever see people freeze in an emergency situation? Ever had to write a paper and you can’t think of a word? In all these cases, it’s fear—fear of public humiliation, fear of injury, or fear of the instructor’s red pen. When afraid, the brain goes into survival mode and creativity suffers.

            To foster a creative environment, fear must be eliminated. This is so contrary to the education system, where the fear of the red pen is often the prime motivator. It’s also contrary to the work environment, where fear of unemployment is often the prime motivator. As a society, we teach students and motivate employees based on fear. But, why do we do this?

ELIMINATE THE EGO

            So, why do people use fear to motivate? They’re insecure. They don’t believe they have the ability to persuade others. So, instead they use intimidation. Some simply don’t care as long as they get what they want. Much of our education system and industry is based on intimidation. The underlying principles of most of these systems of intimidation are based on reward and punishment. Do what I say and you’ll be rewarded. Don’t do it, you’ll be punished.

            Such external systems of rewards and punishments are only good at one thing—producing compliance. Everyone conforms and creativity grinds to a halt. But, then the buts start:

            “But, if I don’t punish N then X, Y and Z will happen.”

            “But, if I don’t reward N then X, Y and Z won’t happen.”

            And, you’re right. I know what you’re thinking. “So, if I remove rewards and punishment, then people won’t do what they’re supposed to do. But, this is what you’re recommending to foster creativity?” Yes, it’s what I’m recommending. So, how do you break this doomed-if-you-do, doomed-if-you-don’t paradox?

RESOCIALIZE THE MASSES

            We need to understand why removing rewards and punishments doesn’t work—at least initially. People have been conditioned through rewards and punishments. It’s the cornerstone of much of our education systems, our employment systems, and even many of our religious systems. People know the rules of those games. And, they follow those rules.

            What happens when you throw people into a new game? They don’t know the rules and they freeze. Initially they look either like slackers or vagabonds. You need to give them time to adapt to new rules. And, what are those rules:

· Worth is based on humanity, not production. Seems weird, but it’s really just the principal of love. Love people and they’ll produce more. But, it can’t be the fake love that some employers mimic. It must be genuine.

· Rewards are given for challenging the system. New ideas, even if they are wrong, must be rewarded. People need to be free to fail. Once people feel free to fail, they often come up with the best ideas—the ones that lead to success.

· Everyone is creative. This must be preached. People don’t become creative until they believe they are creative. Once that belief is set, creativity explodes.

· People must be secure. This rule is going to bite Corporate America in the butt. People can’t be creative when they’re not paid enough to meet basic needs. People can’t be creative when they don’t have a balance of work and home—one that allows them to take care of themselves and their families. People can’t be creative when they are constantly confronted with inequality and injustice. Corporate America views workers as pieces in a machine. Because of that, it will receive mechanical thinking.

            If you want more creativity, you must change the rules—from rules based on external systems of rewards and punishments to rules based on internal motivation. It’s not easy. You’ll need to drop your insecurities. You’ll need to open up to others and care. You’ll need to give them time to adapt to new ways of working and thinking. But, in the end it will be worth the effort.

Delly Gate

            I don’t normally write about sports, but this is my blog. There has been a controversy brewing over Matthew Dellavedova being a dirty player. This had been based primarily on three plays this post season. So, let’s analyze those three plays.

TAJ GIBSON

            This controversy wouldn’t exist if the announcers and television producers were being fair, but I think what happened is they were doing their job. By that, I mean that were creating controversy for the sake of television drama. They placed the focus on what happened after Dellavedova and Gibson were on the ground. The focus should be on what happened immediately preceding.

            Gibson gave Dellavedova a mild clotheslines as they were fighting through picks. Watch the tape and see Gibson’s body language. He was looking for a fight and was looking to put a hurt on Dellavedova. He was angry, because a smaller guy was playing him tough. After the mild clothesline, he then gave Dellavedova a shoulder on a pick. That shoulder was a foul, and possibly a flagrant 1 if called. Then, as Dellavedova boxes Gibson out, Gibson just steamrolled right over the back of him. It’s clear on the video that it wasn’t just body contact, because Gibson’s arms and shoulders raised as he clearly pushes Dellavedova. This should end the controversy. Right there is the flagrant 2 if the refs are doing their job, and any response from Dellavedova that isn’t malicious is merely the natural reaction of someone protecting themselves from assault.

            So, what about the “leg lock”? I love how the announcers pick that term, as if Dellavedova performed some sort of MMA move. Gibson was looking for a fight. He had already assaulted Dellavedova three times and Dellavedova was letting him know he wasn’t happy about it. Dellavedova wasn’t playing dirty. Gibson was playing dirty.

KYLE KORVER

            Well, the refs weren’t doing their job on this one. Watch the video. The reason the ball was loose was because Dennis Schröder was reaching in. He clearly bumps Dellavedova from behind. Had the refs made the call, the play would have been stopped before the injury.

            After the ball went loose, Dellavedova did what any hustling player would do. He went after the ball. This whole notion that he rolled on Korver’s ankle is ridiculous. He grabbed the ball and spun away from his opponent to protect possession.

            Again, the announcers and the producers seem to be focusing on what makes for controversy and television drama. They failed to point out that Dellavedova was fouled. They failed to point out that had the refs made the call, the play would have stopped before the injury. They also used inflammatory language of Dellavedova rolling onto Korver's ankle. Dellavedova did nothing dirty and the only foul on the play was committed by Schröder.

AL HORFORD

            Seems Al Horford and Taj Gibson are both afflicted by the same malady—that they become enraged when a smaller man plays them tough. First, Horford dropped a shoulder into Timofey Mozgov. It was deliberate and it was dirty. He should have been called for a charge. Demarre Carroll fell over Mozgov, who was on the ground after receiving the shoulder. This started the domino effect of bodies hitting the floor. Horford started it and then he drops an elbow onto Dellavedova. The dirty player was no doubt Horford!

            Horford then goes on to make some post-game comments that can only qualify as imbecile. “He’s got to learn. He’s only been in this league for a couple of years but he’s got to learn that at the end of the day, it’s a big brotherhood here. Guys look out for each other and I don’t think it was malicious but he’s got to learn.” So, apparently Horford was trying to teach Dellavedova a lesson. What could that lesson be? The only lesson that seems likely, considering the facts, is Horford thinks smaller men shouldn’t play him tough.

THE PATTERNS

            Only two patterns seem to emerge from this controversy. 1) Dellavedova plays hard. 2) NBA big men develop tempers when smaller guys out hustle them.

Remember

            Memorial Day is a day to remember. So, what should we remember?

THE TROOPS

            Let’s remember our troops. Some gave their lives. To those, we owe our highest honor. Some lost a limb, a friend or the security of living in freedom. We must remember them, but remembrance doesn’t cut it. Proper medical care, jobs and kind words are deserved for all our service members. They should come back to a land that embraces them and helps them heal the wounds of war.

CIVIL SERVANTS

            Many put their lives on the line on our soil. It could be the police officers who serve with honor. I’m not sure my brother would still be alive if it wasn’t for the help of some kind officers. I’m sure they’d say they were just doing their job, but often that job involves saving lives.

            On 9/11 the towers fell. Into the fray rushed police, firefighters and EMT’s. They were also backed by nurses, doctors and medical aides that helped to treat the wounded. Let’s remember their service—both on that dreaded day and the service they give every day of the week.

            Let’s not forget the teachers who help to impart knowledge to our youth. Teaching is a hard job. I can tell you this from first-hand experience. Let’s remember those who gave their lives—not through death, but by living on and bringing that life to the classroom every day.

LOVED ONES GONE ON

            Let’s not forget our loved ones who have gone on. I remember my Grandpa. We had a special bond the last few months of his life. That bond and the lessons I learned were priceless. I was a light and source of strength, and he responded with great love. My life is better because of that experience.

            I’ve lost two grandmothers. I was the beloved grandchild. Those that have had that relationship know the warmth and you have countless stories. I also remember the grand dad I never knew—who passed away before I was born.

            I also remember my Uncle Ted. He was a kind, gentle man. I wish the world was filled with men like him—men who are willing to show kindness to others. I would love to have a day with him, but I know he’s gone on to heaven. I look forward to seeing him again.

            So, amidst the picnics and family gathering let’s not forget to remember.

Lessons from Comedy

            This weekend I was in a comedy competition. I placed 3^rd. Yeah me! I’ve been doing comedy since 2008 and this is the first time I’ve placed in a competition. Of course, I could complain about how unfair comedy competitions are. The best comedian doesn’t always win. But, truth be told, I’m not the best comedian out there. Still, I’ve learned some valuable lessons.

DON’T BE AFRAID OF FAILURE

            This last competition I tried an entirely new approach to the stage. I didn’t plan out where I was going to go. I played off the moment and the crowd. Usually I have everything exactly planned out and that makes me appear a little stiff. I did a little better just riffing.

LEARN FROM YOUR MISTAKES

            Yes, riffing was good, but at a few points I was flat. I need to find a point where I’m both prepared and ready to riff—almost a paint-by-numbers approach, where I have the basic lines drawn in before I take the stage, but am free to play with the colors. Right now, I don’t know how to do that or what that will look like.

KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE

            I’ve played this crowd before and I know the comedians who do the best are the ones that interact with the audience. My last performance there I did that a little. This time I did it much more and it worked—for the most part. Learning comedy is a trial and error affair.

LEARN FROM OTHERS

            One of the areas I’m flat as a comedian is crowd work. Other comedians are far better at it than I am. The winner of the competition really related to and even at points picked on the crowd—in a fun way. There’s much I can learn from watching him and the other comedians. They all have strong points and they all made mistakes.

STAY POSITIVE

            In order to succeed, you need to stay positive. You can’t let one bad performance beat you down. I’ve had some bad—really bad—performance, but so has every comedian. Every time you take the stage, you take that risk. But, as you mature, the likelihood of failure decreases and the likelihood of success increases. You begin to learn how and when to take risks and that wisdom makes all the difference in the world.

The Power of Positivity

            Lately I’ve been learning the power of positivity. Tomorrow I start teaching a new academic term. That’s why I’m posting on Sunday as opposed to my normal Monday. What I’ve found is the first class sets the tone. This is particularly true with my Oral Communication class. If they are laughing and having fun the first day, the rest of the term will go well. In order to get people to open up and share, I need to set a tone. The class must become more of a family than a sterile classroom. When that happens, learning increases and I hear marvelous speeches. There are some other examples I’ve found of positivity.

MY WRITER’S GROUP

            I’m involved in two writer’s groups. I learn from both, but one I absolutely love. Why? It’s because of the positivity. There is an infectious energy when we meet. I’m surrounded by linguistic geniuses. Every week someone else shares something that just wows me—not that it’s-kinda-good wow, but the whoa-this-is-genius wow. Sometimes the writing make me laugh, sometimes it makes my skin crawl and sometimes it just fills me with awe, but every time I meet with the group, I am amazed and it’s pushing me to be better—as both a writer and a person.

MY DAD

            Dad is recovering from stage IV cancer. It’s been a tough battle. One thing I see is how much strength he gains from mom and me. Our presence inspires him and helps him to push on. Part of positivity is supporting others.

MY FRIENDS

            I have some wonderful friends. They have different energies, but I can say that all of them have a positive energy. Some are hopeful. Some are happy. Some are supportive. Some are creative geniuses. My advice to everyone out there is to find these kinds of people and hang around with them. Your life will be better.

MY FAITH

            There’s a Biblical principle that says you reap what you sow. If you’re positive, positive comes back to you. One thing you need to understand about this principle is that it functions long-term. Short-term it doesn’t always work that way. You’ll let someone in front of you in traffic and they’ll flip you the bird. You’ll trust someone and they’ll cheat you. These things happen. But, over the long run, if you treat people well things will work out better for you. It’s a principle that engrained in the universe by the Creator.

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.”