The goal of this blog initially was for Mr. Mc to show his students and friends what he doing while in Pennsylvania and DC in 2011. Now it's being used as a place for him, travelling colleagues and former students to discuss edumacation and history related "stuff" as well as ... well, anything which pops into his head. Mr. Mc would never knowingly embarrass either the school he loves or the family he is devoted to. By joining in the discussion, he expects the same of you.
This is one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite shows.
A couple weeks ago I posed a question about the best response to people in our lives who demean the craft of teaching. Those who can do...those who can't teach.
There were some encouraging responses and suggestions. Thanks. Like a friend prophesied, the comment never occurred in the meeting. To be honest, the meeting went far better than I had hoped. Maybe that person became more enlightened. Maybe my confidence was disarming. Don't know and don't really care. What I've found over the past couple of weeks is I've been thinking about why I teach. The old dinner party question of what would you do if suddenly money and success weren't issues keeps coming to mind. My answer, I'd teach. If Maggie and I won the lottery and could both stop working, I would still want to teach. If have had a few careers. I've written for newspapers. I've done community relations for a cause I believe in. I've served churches professionally and continue to volunteer in roughly the same capacities. I really liked what I did and am proud of the what I was able to accomplish. I think I could still go back to any of these occupations and continue to be successful. I honestly believe I could be a successful 'professional historian' as well. Frankly, I want to teach. I leave for a couple summer programs in a couple weeks and have decided to play with this idea for a couple weeks. I think of this blog an a place for me to put my thoughts, but also a safe place to respond. A lot of my friends are teacher-types so I want to hear from you...WHY DO YOU TEACH
Spring has been rough on me for some reason. I could opine all of the reasons why but ... quite frankly, they don't matter. The final nail in Spring's coffin was yesterday I received formal notice that I wasn't selected for an opportunity I had been working towards and hoping for. This is the fifth straight letter in as many years and I suppose that has been weighing on me. I keep asking myself how many times do I apply before I become 'that guy'.
There is a line from a Milton sonnet which says, "I fondly (read that as 'foolishly') ask/ but Patience, to prevent that murmer/" My "Patience" moment came this morning as my son, who has borne the brunt of my growly-bearness reminded me that he loved me as he got out of the car this morning. We say that to each other most mornings but that he wanted to say it me this morning reminded me that I'm a blessed man. Blessed with a wife who is not feeling well but still lets me rant. Sons and daughters who love me despite a shockingly long list of failings. I'm blessed I get to do what I love every day. I have friends who have comiserated at what really is a minor loss in the scheme of themes.
Patience also reared its ugly head in class today. I am writing bios for the students I'll be taking to DC next week. They've earned the right to perform on Ford's Theater's stage and I couldn't be prouder of them and my class as a whole. One of the student's selections is the Gettysburg Address. I've stood on that battlefield and I've stood in that cemetery and that reminder humbled me. The other student is reciting Lou Gehrig's Luckiest Man speech. I've experienced a minor professional setback, but still get to 'play ball'. I listened to both speeches again and I felt embarassed at how hard I am taking the disappointments of the last few weeks.
I kept thinking of a moment in West Wing between the president and his secretary. He's had a bad few weeks as well and Mrs. Landingham reminds him that he needs to get over it.
Note: this post has very little to do with oratory, education or history. I wrote something about Sandyhook the other day and this is a continuation of my thoughts. This post centers on my wrestling with where God was on December 14th.
I am putting together a post on the use of tone in oratory right now and stumbled upon these two clips. I said in a previous post that I was still wrestling with what happened less than a month ago in Connecticut. While everyone is bellowing at the the gun "lobby" or at the "liberal" media, I've tuned them out.
I have bigger fish to fry.
My beef has been with God.
Psalm 138:7. 2 Thessalonians 3:3. The whole of Psalm 23. Where was the God of protection at that elementary school? Where? Were those poor teachers left to their own devices?
Full disclosure: I have a degree in religion and so I know how to logically battle the "Where was God in this tragedy?" question. This isn't a philosophical battle for me. This is an emotional one and spiritual platitudes aren't the answer. I'm not denying the truth of a platitude, but sometimes an open wound doesn't need a seasoning of platitude sprinkled over it.
The only answer I have found to this, for me, is silence. Really, the silence is between me and other people. God and I are thick in conversation and our conversations aren't usually for public consumption. God is a gracious combatant in that he lets me rail at Him, bully him and, in anger, twist facts and realities to make my point. Once I'm done flailing and ranting and blaming Him for every problem since, well, since creation; I'm reminded that my lens is a limited one and that trusting God comes at a cost. I quoted a poem in the last post and am reminded of another line from that poem. "I fondly (fondly means foolish in Milton's era) ask. But Patience, to prevent that murmur, ..."
Here are the two videos that caused me to write this post. The first is one of the finest examples of how great writing and acting can converge to create a moment both painfully honest and painfully profound. It doesn't hurt that Martin Sheen (whatever you think of him politically) has the gravitas as a man of faith and actor to make this organic and spontaneous. The second is what happens after you rant at God. I like that they make it clear this isn't a dream and Mrs. Landingham isn't 'God'. She is the voice in his mind after it has unraveled itself. I like that the voice acknowledges the tragedy of the past but, really, looks toward the future.
That look toward the future doesn't ignore the realities of the past. Events have consequences. But it reminds me: A tragedy is more of one when you become stuck in it. Please note I am not talking about the true victims of the shooting. Their world is irretrievably changed as the result and it will take longer than thirty days to work through the events at Sandy Hook. As a person of faith, I'm called to get off my whiny ass, stop the theological navel gazing and keep them in my prayers and my thoughts.
They continue to be in my prayers. I can't even begin to imagine that level of pain. My job is to remember and honor the victims. To remember them when my brain wants to move to the next tyranny of the urgent. To honor their sadness and the memories of those taken or injured by not letting anyone else's motive or political ambition take control of the event.
There will be more time for debate on gun control. I feel like we are dishonoring the victims by pouncing on the politics of the tragedy. I can't control a whole country's narrative, but I can say that I refuse to watch or read news reports about gun control for the next five months. Let the virtiol and blathering be done without me.
The West Wing, Two Cathedrals
The West Wing, Two Cathedrals
The poem below is by Katharina von Schlagell. It mirrors any number of passages in scripture. She wrote it to be a hymn and that hymn is said to be the favorite him of Eric Liddell, Olympic runner (and then missionary) in the movie Chariots of Fire. There is also a new take on the poem by Ginny Owens.
Be Still My Soul
Be still my soul! The Lord is on thy side. Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain; Leave to thy God to order and provide; In every change He faithful will remain. Be still, my soul! thy best, thy heavenly Friend Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul! thy God doth undertake To guide the future as He has the past. Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake; All now mysterious shall be bright at last. Be still, my soul! the waves and winds still know His voice who rules them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul! the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone.
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul! when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
Diction is how clearly the speaker says their words.
This is one of my favorite YouTube channels. Check out 31 Jokes for NERDS.
What is the most difficult tongue twister?
According to the intraweb thingy, these two are candidates:
Girl gargoyle, Guy gargoyle
Irish wrist watch
But according to Guinness Book of World Records:
The sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick.
The weird stuff he is talking about (fricatives and the like) come from the IPA or International Phonetic Alphabet. IPA converts sounds into characters. Each character has only one sound it can make so once you learn the IPA, you can read it like a language and get every syllable and accent exact. Its great for actors learning a new dialect. Diction is making making sure each phoneme (the basic unit of language) gets its proper due.
This is a general introduction to IPA. (My degree in communications is finally paying off!)
Senator Jerry Moran, R-Kansas
BTW-I have a couple classroom pictures but the blogger program is not playing nice in the sandbox.
Will post as soon as it lets me
When I see and adult in the hallway at school, my first thought is parents and so I was going through my mental roldex to figure out who this man walking up to my collegues and me. Then I recognized him ...
US
Senator Jerry Moran stopped by my classroom unannounced. I had written
him about a missed chance to meet him while in Washington DC and he
decided to visit me instead. He said mine was one of nicest 'disgruntled' letters he had seen and so wanted to contact me. He had a little extra time that morning and so stopped by.
No warning. No entourage.
To say I was suprised would be an understatement. On the first day back, before my first hour ...
The senator then spent my first hour chatting with
my students about being a public servant. He talked about his family,
school, and his new roles as one of the leaders of the Senate. He was gracious and self-depricating and my kids, in the first few minutes back from holiday break, were fascinated.
I know we
blather on about partisan politics and dysfunction and he acknowledged
the messiness of elections and governing. But you also got the honor he felt in public
service. He reminded me that we can look at politics in a crass and cynical manner. We can also look at it from the standpoint of public servants qenuinely trying to both balance their ideals at the same time trying to discern and do the will of the people who trusted them enough to elect them.
Easily one of my favorite movies of all time.
Mr. Smith makes me think of fillubuster and I can't think fillibuster without this clip from West Wing.
As a grandfather, I concur.
To be honest, I had Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in my mind all day as a result. I know political neophytes will see me as a Polyanna and I know there are harsh realities to politics and governing, but they can sit down and shut their pie holes as I wax philosophically on why public servants serve. I honestly believe you don't go through what elected officials go through in order to play Machiavelli. Senator Moran proved my point yesterday.
Ok, day two of Thanksgivingpalooza. This clip is from The West Wing and an episode titled, "Shibboleth" and is an excellent example why The West Wing is possible the best television show ever made. Allison Janney is pitch perfect in this; as are Eric and Troy--the turkeys. Enjoy.
