Wednesday, July 30, 2014

life lessons

Education has been forced on me for my entire life.  I had no choice.  I had to go to school.  I had to go to college.

My grades were highly monitored by my mother.  Above average was my only option. Anything less meant some type of consequence/loss of privilege/grounding.

It was serious business.  I'm thankful that it was.

Education opened hundreds of doors for me.  I know where I am and I know where I could be.  I'm thankful.

Some parts of my education were a struggle.  Some things don't come naturally to me. I have to work really hard.  

Other parts feel like they were created for my brain and I excel without trying.

Regardless of my own experiences, I still look back and see a broken system.  In both instances, the whole framework is dysfunctional. From the beginning to the end, it always has been.

Teaching within the brokenness reaffirms this belief. Aspects of teaching are a game.  You know how to make a pretty bulletin board.  You keep data.  You play the cards.  You jump through hoops.  I suppose it's like any other bureaucracy, which I suppose is the problem. 

I thought about this the most when I was in my graduate program. I was studying all that I loved and held so dearly to my heart.  The books I was reading for homework were books I had already read for pleasure.  I looked forward to weeklong residencies where I sat with like-minded people and talked about the beautiful and the ugly. I was going across the world to teach art in the poorest, most vulnerable communities.  It was a dream.  A dream come true.  

And yet, even in the midst of it all,  I was more focused on my assignments and my rubrics than I was on the moment I was living in.

Did I site every source in APA?  How many points will I be docked?  
Did I comment on three individual posts throughout the week?  I think I only did two.  I wonder if I can make it up somewhere.  
Did I include every component of my teach back assignment?  I don't remember all of them.  I'm sure I had a pneumonic device so I wouldn't forget.
Did my lesson meet all of the criteria within the given timeframe?  I didn't time it before I sent it in.

It was hard to think about much else.



I like getting good grades.  I like getting good grades at nearly any expense.  My childhood set a solid foundation for the rest of my life.  

I  completed my assignments.  I learned my lessons.  I  earned my grades.  I graduated.

And now I'm here.  I'm in Kenya as a volunteer with the very same program that took me to of the rest of the world as a student.

The framework is the same.  The projects are the same.  The lessons are the same.

Everything is the same.
Everything but me.

I'm not thinking about the details of my work in order to get the highest grade.  I'm thinking about the details of my work in order to give the highest level of myself.

Did I remember to include metaphor?  I need to rethink that.  I've missed it and it's important. 
Why are these kids so quiet?  I wonder how I can get them to feel freedom to express themselves.  
Will the work that I've done here be sustainable after we leave?  What can we do to put systems in place so that the people here stand on their own when we are gone?  What would that look like?

It's a completely different me.

I'll never stop being the curious, question-asking, full-of-wonder, wide-eyed child that lives within me. 

I'm forever a student, but something about being an actual student makes me miss the lesson.  

I don't know if it's me or if it's the system, but it's reality.

I'm thankful for my education.  I'm thankful for my journey.  I'm thankful that I'm right here, right now.

No longer in class, forever learning.

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