What do you say to taking chances?

"If you are never scared, embarrassed, or hurt, it means you never take chances."

This post is going to be an examination of what it means to take a chance. There are all kinds of quotations out there about taking chances. The one starting this post is my personal favorite, but here are some others...

"Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. "

~ Cadet Maxim

"Never let the odds keep you from doing what you know in your heart you were meant to do."

~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

"Do one thing every day that scares you."

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

"We must walk consciously only part way toward our goal and then leap in the dark to our success. "

~ Henry David Thoreau

"Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else's."

~ Billy Wilder

I know that is a lot to take in all at once, but each of these quotes reveal something very important about how our society views the experience of taking a chance. We are told that taking chances means we might potentially feel embarrassed, scared, and hurt. These great men and women explain to us that chance taking requires us to lay aside safety, wisdom, practicality, the impossible, and instead take an instinctive leap of faith.

To a certain extent, they may be right. It is almost impossible to take chances without the presence of the unknown. However, as an educator it concerns me that we are sending the message that taking an unknown path to new experiences has the potential to be painful, scary, and embarrassing. I also do not particularly care for the message that there is no room for analysis, experience, and calculation in taking a chance.

In my classroom, I want my children to see taking chances as an adventure. I want to eliminate fear and embarrassment so that trying new things is comfortable or even exciting. When approaching something new and different, I want them to rely on wisdom and practicality (both their own and that of others) instead of treating them like an impediment on the road to discovery.

Sometimes taking chances will be scary, and sometimes it will require a leap of faith, but I do not think it always has to. My question for all of you is how? How do I create an environment where my students feel safe, comfortable, and even eager taking chances? How do I ensure that trying new things and heading in new directions is a positive experience instead of a scary and overwhelming one? As always, I appreciate anything you have to contribute.

The Rose Not Taken

Today as I was walking to get dinner, I saw something so beautiful that I felt the need to share it. It was one of those perfect evenings that make people want to be outside. There was a slight breeze, but it was not so cold that you needed a jacket. The air had a quiet and enduring quality that made you feel like time would be suspended forever in that pleasant place between night and day when there is nothing to do but enjoy life, and nothing to feel but quiet happiness.

I was walking past a common area, and skipping around the circumference of the benches situated there was a very small, bouncy haired child and her two huge yellow labs. She ran about aimlessly until she happened upon a rose bush with beautiful pink blooms. Of course, in this situation she did what any adorable 3-year-old would and picked the petals from one of the blossoms. Her intent was to offer these soft, lovely drops of happiness to her two lumbering companions, but this pursuit was thwarted by the fact that her hairy four-legged friends would not even acknowledge the existence of the child's gift. Still, she persisted, following her dogs lovingly from place to place, trying innocently to get their attention and give them her thoughtful gift. In the end, she did not give up but instead said with a maternal note to her voice, "well I'll just leave them right her, and you can come get them when you are ready." She then placed the petals on the corner of one of the benches and continued to pursue new adventures and discoveries.

My description of this brief scene does not come close to doing it justice. The juxtaposition of the dogs huge bulky frames with her light and delicate features, and their animal indifference to her humanity and warmth were comical. Her persistence in trying to share something that she felt would make the creatures she loved happy was beautiful. She was never discouraged, and she had no doubt that at some point, her gift of simple beauty would get the appreciation it deserved.

I am not simply telling this story because it made me ache with happiness. This 20 second scene got me thinking about some deeper issues that have been on my mind constantly over the past month.

Who should get our most precious and beautiful gifts?

If that little girl had given that flower to her doting father who stood close by, or even to me as I passed, it would have brought a smile to a face and put a good deal of warmth in a heart. Instead, she tried to give it to two dogs who paid her no attention and did not appreciate the beauty in what she was attempting to do. Should we be like this little girl? Should we persist in trying to share our gifts with those who do not appreciate them for the beauty that they possess?

Or

Should we reserve the beautiful aspects of our lives and character; our talents, our knowledge, our love, for the people who will truly appreciate the gifts we have to give?

Let's say just for fun, that this little girl attempts to giver her dog a rose petal 100 times. The first 99 times, the dog ignores that gift completely and sometimes even nudges the girl's hand aside with his nose to get it out of his way. However, the hundredth time, he turns and smells the rose, and the smell of that sweet little petal changes his life and the way he sees the world forever. What if the girl had given up the 57th time she tried to give the dog the petal? What if she had decided that dog could never appreciate her gift and instead gave it to me? That dog would have never had the life changing experience of encountering one of life's simplest beauties.

How long do we push? How long to we fight? How long do we persist in trying to give people the beautiful gifts that we know they need but that they cannot or will not accept? What happens when they are finally ready to accept what someone else has to offer, and everyone has given up? What if they turn to smell the rose, and there is no open hand holding the petal?

OK Go - This Too Shall Pass - Rube Goldberg Machine version - Official

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

I've heard this poem before but the words never really hit me the way they did today. My Chester Children's Chorus girls and I were looking at poetry, and they were enamored with Maya Angelou. We found a YouTube video of her reciting this poem. It was so beautiful to hear the words dance out of her mouth in her deep fluid voice like they were thoughts she was having right at that moment.

I still rise.

What a powerful thing to say. What a powerful thing for my girls to hear.

"Erin do you think they would have this book at the library?"

No more beautiful words were ever spoken.

All sparkles may not go on to shine...

There are many thoughts just sitting in my head that I have never found the right words to verbalize. They only take on life in the spoken world when some very intelligent person expresses a thought of their own that in some way parallels mine, and in doing so, provides me with the language I was lacking. If you couldn't guess, that happened to me this week. Thanks to my supervisor, I can now express to those of you who read this blog one of my greatest concerns when it comes to education...

This entry focuses on students who lose their sparkle.

What is a student's sparkle? Many of you can probably guess. It is that enthusiasm to learn, that natural curiosity, that eagerness to explore and discover which every child possesses at birth. However, somewhere along the line, many sparkles lose their refractive power. They fade into dull gray dots of apathy.

I have many dull gray dots amongst the juniors that I teach. The way they drag their feet into class, slump down in their chairs, and immediately put their heads down causes me to wonder, when did they loose it? When did they lose their sparkle?

Did it happen in a moment? The first time a teacher shot down a question? The first time someone said they were stupid? The first time they got called a trouble maker? The first time they were compared to a "more intelligent" child?

Or did it happen gradually? Was it simply the accumulation of multiple academic and life frustrations that after 17 years just forced their bright and beautiful sparkle into a dull submission? Either way, my apathetic students are my greatest frustration and my deepest heartbreak.

Which leads me to the question that has driven my academic pursuits since I became interested in education...

Can you re-spark a sparkle?

Can you undo 13+ years of academic discouragement? Can you fight unfortunate life circumstances and devastating events that have nothing to do with school, but that do gut wrenching damage to children?

This post has a lot of questions and not many answers. Personally, I would like to think you can re-ignite something in the mind of an apathetic student. Especially if you are willing dedicate yourself to doing so. With time and patience, sometimes you can get the blood flowing through a student's scholarly vein again. The question is, how? Showing students you believe in their abilities is great. Setting high standards for all of your pupils is admirable. Going the extra mile to ensure they understand the concepts you are teaching by staying after school, catering to their individual learning needs, and getting to know them personally is extraordinary.

But what about the ones that are so far gone that even all of that is not enough? Do you just let all lingering hints of a glimmer die? How do we as teachers reach the students who lost their sparkle so long ago, they have forgotten what it feels like to care?

Please let me know what you think. I am really interested in other people's insights and experiences with this particular challenge.

A Bronte Tutorial in Attitudes Toward Behavior

I find that when I am struggling with an issue, inspiration comes from most surprising places.

My most recent befuddlement rises from the complete disregard that many of my students, especially in my third block class, show for basically everything we do. Some (not all) of them possess the unique skill of being able to maintain a steady stream of dialogue, that has nothing to do with 20th Century Global Studies, for the entire 80 minutes we are together. All efforts on my part to refocus them have been successful for 15 minute spurts, but nothing I have tried so far has had any lasting hold on the behavior in my classroom. By the end of class Friday, I was feeling very frustrated and a bit personally injured by their apparent lack of respect for me and the other students in the class.

Before going to bed Friday night, I took some time to continue my literary journey through Charlotte Bronte's master work Jane Eyre. So far, I am very impressed with Miss Bronte's writing style and character development. I am especially impressed with Helen Burns, a school friend of Jane's, who provides many deep insights into human nature. At one point in the story, Helen gives her thoughts on the darker side of human behavior,

"...with this creed, I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and his crime, I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last; with this creed, revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low..."

So lofty words for so young a person, and the point they drive home is so important. Especially for my current situation. This concept of admonishing the behavior instead of the individual, of maintaining disdain for the act, but forgiving the person who committed it is one that I am constantly forgetting and rediscovering.

My students do not exist only for the 80 minutes that I teach them. On some level I realize that, but on days like Friday, it is the first thing I overlook. So much more is going on in their lives than I can possibly see from my position of authority at the front of the room. While my mind is on how to convey the connections between Imperialism, Industrialism, and World War One, while I am up nights obsessing over how to make the world of 1914 Europe come alive in my classroom, my students are dealing with a million other issues that range from, "Does he/she like me, cause I definitely like him/her." to "I think I might be pregnant."

Therefore, by laying aside my perspective of my students as disrespectful people (which they are not) and instead viewing their behavior as disrespectful (which it is), I might be able to get further. Perhaps by treating them like respectable and mature adults, I can gain more cooperation. It may be time to have a discussion with the class about proper classroom behavior and reasonable classroom expectations and why they are important. This conversation should have happened earlier, but better late than never.

Talking to my students about my expectations may very well have absolutely no effect on anything. In which case, I will have to be a bit more firm. However, I would like to give my them the benefit of the doubt and at least afford them the chance to be the kind of students I know they are capable of being.

I think I will probably write Bronte's excellent insight on some scrap of paper and add it to my wall of inspiration. No matter how wronged I may feel, no matter how disgusting or disrespectful an act committed against me may seem, I feel it is essential to my life philosophy that I am able to divorce that behavior from not only my students, but all the people that hold essential places in my life. That is most definitely more difficult to do than it is to say. Generally speaking though, I function much better when I am able to remember that there is more to people than their ugliest parts.

We all have within us the capability to be both extraordinarily inspiring with our acts of selflessness and bravery and destructively harmful with our acts of selfishness and cowardice. It is easy to see all the ways in which we can be the latter, but sometimes it takes someone else's undying belief in our ability to be the former to help us realize that we are also capable of making a positive difference in this world.

Benchmarks

I am guessing there is a decent chance that most of the people reading this blog have at some point in their lives encountered the Robert Frost poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." But in case you have not, here it is.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

The first time I interacted with this creation of Mr. Frost's, I was in an eighth grade English class. Something about it immediately grabbed my attention. Like most things that grab my attention for reasons I can't explain, this poem stuck with me. I mulled it over in my head for days, but no matter how many times I wrote the poem out, no matter how many times I recited the lines in my head, I could not summon forth the deeper meaning belonging to Frost's words.

My senior year of high school I encountered this poem again. We read it in an English class I was taking shortly after being dealt the most devastating blow I have ever endured. This time, I came to a conclusion about the poem's meaning before we had finished the first read through. It seemed to me that Frost was contemplating death, and more specifically, whether or not it was time for him to die. In the end, he decided that even thought death seemed "lovely" and quiet and peaceful, he still had miles to go before it was his time to die.

Now, I am a senior in college, and Frost's poem about a silent evening in a winter wonderwood has been very much on my mind. Perhaps because it has been snowing so much, but I think there is another reason as well. My understanding and interpretation of this poem has again been altered. Frost's woods make me think of contentment. They remind me of moments in my life when everything is beautiful and I am at peace. Like the traveler in the poem, I am tempted to try and suspend myself in those moments forever, or you could say, I am tempted to stay in the woods.

However, at this point in my life that is not something I can afford to do. Like that man in those woods on that calm and snowy night, "I have promises to keep." I have promises to keep to myself regarding places I want to go and things I want to do. I have promises to keep to other people about the kind of person I am going to be and the level of commitment I am going to have to the causes I believe in. These promises make it so that, at least for now, I cannot slow down, and I cannot be content. I have to leave my comfort zone and push the limits. Mostly, I need to find out how much of a person I am capable of being and how much that person is capable of doing, because right now I do not feel like I have a very good grip on what I am actually capable of.

I love that I have these re-occurring themes in my life. By that I mean certain songs, certain movies, certain literary works, certain people that reappear from time to time. They act as important benchmarks that provide me with valuable insights regarding my personal development. It never ceases to amaze me how experience and current life situation can influence my perspective on the world. Is Frost's poem about death? Is it about contentment? Is it just about appreciating beauty but realizing that we must return to reality? Or is it supposed to be about all of those things? I don't know. But in the end that is not what matters. "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is valuable to me because it is so subjective, and because that subjectivity makes it so easy to relate to my life no matter how old I get or how much my situation changes. Considering the fact that I am only twenty-two, and my life is only just beginning, it is safe to assume that my interpretation of Frost's words will continue to experience many additional alterations in the years to come. After all, I still have "miles to go before I sleep."