Self Care is Brave

There are so many things I could have written about this week. So many good and beautiful things.

But I didn't.

I said "No."

I went outside and sat in the sun for thirty minutes instead.

I closed my eyes and I breathed.

It's what I needed.

Today, that was enough.

#selfcareisbrave
#IamEnough

Swiss Army knife thinking

This week I spent a great deal of time alongside my students as they studied the geography of South Asia, and simultaneously collaborated on a group project (their task was to create a board game proposal that included some link to Hinduism).

On both activities, many students expressed their curiosity (and, yes, their skepticism) about my rationale for the assignments.

"Mr. McDonough, if we can search any of these places [rivers, countries, cities, mountain ranges, etc.] on Google Maps, why do we need to memorize them?"

or

"Can we please not work in a group? We are not collaborating AT ALL. I need a different group."


See, I didn't see these questions as a threat, or as an inappropriate questioning of my authority, or an insubordination of any kind whatsoever. Instead, I loved the questions. I leaned into them. They meant that my students were doing exactly what I wish for them to do...they were challenging the status quo and they were seeking clarity. They were questioning and they were being curious about the process of their learning. They were not threatened by what my response might be, and they willingly engaged me in conversation. They trust me.

I knew I had to have an answer. And I do.

So, here's what I said.

Firstly, the reason I have you memorize places in the world is not because I want you to know where they are on a map. Rather, my goals are twofold. One, when you read the news and hear about an earthquake in Kathmandu or a wedding in Mumbai, or an organization cleaning up waste in the Ganges, I want you to have context. Being an engaged cosmopolitan citizen (yes, they know the term) is about having awareness, and when you meet your college roommate and you learn that they are from India, I would love for your next question to be, "oh which state?" or "which part?" or "Oh, is that near Kalimpong?" I want you to be able to see that there are so many things to learn and that knowing even a little bit more increases your cultural capital and allows you to have empathy for the experiences of others; it allows you to engage with human beings in a new and deepened way. If globalization is the "widening, deepening, and speeding up of global interconnectivity," we too must widen and deepen our understandings to keep up with the pace of the world around us.

So, you're right, my student...Google saves time, but awareness about the world connects lives. Cultural capital keeps us curious, but Google just keeps us informed.

And what about those group projects, you ask?

Well, I've been reading David Epstein's new book, Range: why generalists thrive in a specialized world and I've been wildly inspired. I want you to collaborate so you can feel the satisfaction that comes from building something that pushes you to adapt and rethink on the fly. I wanted you to face a deadline and face critics who were invested in the performance as much as you are because they are your partners and teammates. I wanted you to see that there is beauty in the messiness of being finished and admitting "this is good enough....not perfect, but enough for today." I wanted you to toil together. And, yes, my students, I wanted you to struggle. Because the struggle is part of it. And you are learning about yourself as a member of the group, and about the strengths and shortcomings of your own role and identity.

Oh, and I wanted the board game to be fun, and for you to think laterally about the marketing plan and about Hindi and how you might incorporate the language, and about competition, and about the Caste System and the Himalayas and about the landscape of South Asia and the exchange rate of rupees and your own curiosity and brilliance. I wanted you to incorporate as much (or as little) as you possibly could and to be given free rein for your ideas to get BIG. I wanted you to use your abstract thinking skills and I wanted you to see the abstractions in the ideas  of your classmates. I wanted to give you many days to problem solve and to rethink your ideas because I love listening to the ways your ideas merge and transform. And I love watching you have time to do things slowly.*

I know you think that you would rather study on your own and take a test at the end because you know what you need to do to solve that equation, and to get a 100%. But the world's problems aren't solved alone. And you don't get 100% on really anything in life. Life just isn't that binary. And YOU aren't binary. And this IS life. Already. Right here. The real world isn't out there waiting for you...it's right here in your hands, and at your feet, and in your lungs, and in your minds.

And we need you to think beyond the tests and the scores and the grades and the isolated studying. Epstein agrees in that book I'm reading, Range. He writes that the current model of education and specialization within academia

"...must change...if students are to capitalize on their unprecedented capacity for abstract thought. They must be taught to think before being taught what to think about. Students come prepared with scientific spectacles, but do not leave carrying a scientific-reasoning Swiss Army knife." -David Epstein, Range: Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World (referring specifically to the work of James Flynn).

I want you to think like Swiss Army knives, my students, so you're ready to do anything. I want to watch you transform the world...and that is why I assigned you this work.

And please, never stop asking me why I do.


*these two paragraphs are, coincidentally, exactly the kind of learning environment my son has in his kindergarten class. Kind of beautiful how I am trying to remind my 8th graders to learn like the once did...back when it came so easy.

This above all...

These were the slides I shared with my 9th grade life skills students on the first day of class this year.

I am teaching them life skills and I genuinely wanted their input...what did they see as the non-negotiable skills they'd need to lead a fulfilling life?

Their responses stunned me.

While each of the three groups of students articulated it differently, they all landed on the reality that one student described as 

"Um, I guess it seems like all of our goals [including relationships, offspring, careers, etc.] have to do with how we treat people. Isn't a fulfilling life all connected to the way we are with others?"

This was so simply put, but so beautiful. 

Isn't that the case with many things? The simplest ones often end up being the most beautiful.

---------------------

Two weeks later I introduced them to a new exercise. It was about our core values.

The most important person in our relationships with others, I suggested, is the one we have with ourselves. 

In Act I, Scene III of Hamlet, Polonius quips,

This above all- to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,Thou canst not then be false to any man.

And so it was that my students embarked on an exercise that invited them to think about the people who had impacted them, and the experiences they'd had losing track of time.

What were you doing?

Who were you with?

When are you your favorite version of yourself?

Next, I asked them to choose from a list of values the values that resonated most deeply with each of them. They chose ten, then reduced that number to the three core values that were most central to their existence.

The results were incredible.

One student spoke about ABUNDANCE.

"Was that even on the list?" a classmate asked.

"Yeah, they're alphabetical. It was first." Then, the student paused. "And can I just say that I don't mean I value abundance as in I want to have the most; instead, it's that I recognize that there is enough already and I just value the fight to ensure that everyone has a piece of the pie."

Another student spoke about CONFRONTATION as a value and their frustration with people who "let me have my way without digging in and debating me about my beliefs and ideas." It reminded me of Steve Jobs' contention that he needed to surround himself with "lions" who would challenge him and question his every move and insight. He realized that he, himself, was a lion, and he needed to be checked to yield the best results.

My student realized this, too.

Another student wrote TRADITION, LOYALTY, HONOR as their three. Their classmates were in awe. They didn't see their classmate this way...but that didn't matter. They understood their values now and it changed the way they treated them.

See, understanding our values isn't just about ourselves. It's also about the people we lead; but it's also about the people we follow--those who inspire us. It's about our families and role models who have led by example, who have passed down their values as well.

And that's where the beauty of discussing values in the classroom comes in. Our school is committed to the partnership between families and the school, and discussing values invites these elements of our shared mission and unified intention: we all desire to help students succeed. Families want this and so do educators. But we also all want our children to grow up to be fulfilled, and to lead meaningful lives. 

I only get to be these students' teacher for one year. 

My life skills classes meet 22 times this year.

That's less than 24 hours of time.

They get to spend their entire lives with themselves. Their families get to be their families forever. Their parents are always their parents. I will one day be their "former teacher" or their "8th grade teacher."

So what is the impact of a conversation about values?

Well, I don't know whether we can definitively say what the impact is right now. We might need to wait until my students are 40. 

What I do know is this: during parents' night for my kindergartener last week, the teacher indicated that there are two goals for every kindergartner. They hope that by first grade each child will have a friend (and know how to make more), and they will understand themselves (as people and learners).

Those are big goals for a 5 year-old, but they're beautiful goals. They're goals that we can partner with as parents...and they're goals I would love to have for my own students as well.

And making friends and knowing oneself? Maybe those are the things we need to learn this year.

The world needs more friends and more self awareness, too.

You know what else the world needs, though?

My ninth grade students.

Musing

One of the websites I visit most frequently is etymonline.com, a website devoted to the origins of words. You see, I love words. I cherish them. I think they are brilliant in the ways they can make us feel things, and I think they are beautiful in the ways they sometimes fail to articulate the things we feel.

As Mark Twain once famously quipped, "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between the lightning and the lightning bug."

Words can be that big (and, truth be told, even those subtle fireflies are my favorite animal).

Today I found myself curious about the word muse and its origin. 

The word muse (and Muse, for that matter) is of particular interest to me this year because in many ways this year has felt different than any other. I have changed classrooms, transformed much of my curriculum, and I am doing more than I've ever done. I am a hustling whirlwind of activity on many days, and I am often stressed, anxious, and very much not well.

But I am also more consistently at peace, more aligned with my needs, patient with my faults, and generally fulfilled.

The moments of insecurity and self doubt still come, but in those moments I invite my own weakness and meet it. There is a running adage that goes, 

"You can let pain sit in the front seat, but don't EVER let it change the music."

The suggestion here is that during the course of a running race we will feel pain. And when the pain arrives we can invite it in. Welcome it. 

"Hi pain, I was wondering when you'd get here."

But what we can't do is allow pain to become the definitive tone...we can't change our difficult moments, but we can change how we respond to them. My grandmother, Ros McDonough, once wrote, "Just to show our weakness, the storm comes."

Which brings me to my Muse. My inspiration. The heart of my entire creative existence. 

When I met Nicole Chenell, the woman who (SPOILER ALERT!) would 13 months later become my partner and spouse, I was amazed by the way she challenged me. She inspired me, yes, but her inspiration came in the form and flavor of forcing me to think differently about the world...and about everything in it. She linked ideas, dug into difficult topics, and listened so brilliantly to better understand the world and people around her.

So, yes, eleven years later Nicole remains my Muse and my favorite musing partner.

But here is the way she has inspired me in the classroom: she has forced me to think about myself first. She has encouraged and questioned my motives, my outlook, my values, my dreams, and the lens through which I see the world. 

This ability has always been there. It's part of her essence, her innsaei. We often have joked that she is the "good listener" of our neighborhood, or the "world's therapist" because of the ways people open up to her (always embracing a depth and vulnerability that stretches beyond the familiarity of their relationship with her) at the park, the bus stop, while walking the dog.

But recently, Nicole has also taken some risks in a new direction. She has founded a life coaching business. And the growth and vulnerability she, herself, has displayed in reinventing herself has inspired my own creativity and my own vision for what's possible in my classroom and my life.

Her website, her Instagram profile...it's all the stuff of brilliant genius. It is helpful and hopeful and beautifully observant. It is a call to action and a treasure just waiting to be found. 

And it reminds me of my students. The world--and their crashing course through it--is ready for them and their brilliant ideas. They are in their infancy, but their thoughts and questions are real...they are big...and nobody else has their ideas. Nicole, my Muse, has been home with our kids for nine years and now she is breaking out of her chrysalis, spreading her wings, and letting the breeze float her to the next just right thing...always moving, always musing, waiting for the next idea to pollinate and spread. Just like my students, those students of the world who bring magic to my classroom each day.

And I suppose that's where I actually fall in love with the etymology of muse again. The moment when I read "to loiter, waste time" a smile broke across my face. Daydreaming is part of being creative. Nicole taught me that. Butterflies don't know which flower needs pollinating, they let the breeze float them to the next right flower for that moment.

And that's what musing--and Muses--do, they invite the big magic into our next great idea.