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Tag Archives: servant-leadership

Think Different

We are on the road today as this is the May long weekend in Canada.

I found this poem the other day and it spoke to me. I love being in the classroom. It is a creative place where I do not worry about pegs and holes. I grew to call my classroom the geometric paradigm where we learned to find the pegs that fit each of us any given day. This poem is a part of Apple‘s advertising.

Without those who do not fit in some way, who cause a certain amount of discomfort, and seek ways to change things up are we able to innovate and create. It is both uncomfortable for those who try to bring about change and to those change impacts. To make it work, we all have to be a little crazy together. Here’s to each of us who embrace a bit of craziness and weirdness.

Here’s to the crazy ones.

The misfits.
The rebels.
The troublemakers.
The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules.
And they have no respect for the status quo. You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them,
disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them.
Because they change things.

They invent. They imagine. They heal.
They explore. They create. They inspire.
They push the human race forward.

Maybe they have to be crazy.
How else can you stare at an empty canvas and see a work of art?
Or sit in silence and hear a song that’s never been written?
Or gaze at a red planet and see a laboratory on wheels?
We make tools for these kinds of people.

While some see them as the crazy ones,
we see genius.
Because the people who are crazy enough to think
they can change the world, are the ones who do.

Elegy in the Classroom

Anne Sexton wrote this wonderfully provocative poem. I am unsure of her context for the poem, but an elegy is a lament or a mourning for something past. As with anything, when we grow past the love and passion for what we do and the compassion for the people we do it with it is time to take our leave. I want to be remembered as ‘gracefully insane’ or eccentric. I love learning with my students and their families the second greatest reward I can receive. The first is learning with my family. I think, in both cases, I could be called somewhat ‘disarranged’.

Teaching is a place of great creative for me and fills a whole in the hole of my soul.

Oh my, Anne Sexton discovered and chose great words for teachers.

In the thin classroom, where your face
was noble and your words were all things,
I find this boily creature in your place;

find you disarranged, squatting on the window sill,
irrefutably placed up there,
like a hunk of some big frog
watching us through the V
of your woolen legs.

Even so, I must admire your skill.
You are so gracefully insane.
We fidget in our plain chairs
and pretend to catalogue
our facts for your burly sorcery

or ignore your fat blind eyes
or the prince you ate yesterday
who was wise, wise, wise.

Thank You, A Simple Word

Yesterday, was a great day. We hung out, but, when I checked email, I found one that made my day. I submitted an article for publication several months ago and received notification yesterday it is going to be published. I am not sure of details such as the when, but, because it is peer-reviewed, it is important for my scholarly journey.

Yesterday, a radio interview I did several months ago as part of a series about servant-leadership, mindfulness, and their potential in education was broadcast. The interview is at Blog Radio. It is long, so do not feel obligated.

Sylvia Chidi wrote this poem about a word I occasionally forget to use, thank you. She described it as “a simple word that feels new.” When I wrote the article, it was a particularly difficult process, but many encouraged me and more will I am sure as I move forward. Kathy was essential to the process. She edits my work, but the article was in such disarray, I had to use a professional editor for the first time. Those advising me kept telling me I needed a softer voice in the article. I was not happy with all that, but the feedback received from the reviewers suggests a softer voice and professional help worked. I am grateful and it moves me along the road.

For all those who have encouraged me and those who are yet to.

Thank you, Thank you
A simple word that still feels new

All I want to hear from you is
Thank you, Thank you
Thank you for been so true
Thank you for kindness
Thank you for your love
Thank you for friendship
Thank you for loyalty
Thank you for humour
Thank you for ideas
Thank you for showing care

All I want to say to you is
Thank you, Thank you
A simple word that still feels new

Thank you for reading my works
Thank you for your encouragement
Thank you for your comments
Thank you for showing excitement
Thank you for your strength
Thank you for your votes
Thank you for influencing my growth
Thank you for been there in the morning
Thank you for been there at night
Thank you for believing in me.

Tao Te Ching #33

I was busy today and am off to a dinner meeting momentarily. I took a deep breath and remembered to breathe. I attended Teacher’s Convention which is unique to Alberta, for the most part. The Alberta Teacher’s Association, our professional organization/union, organizes several each year depending on geographic locations. There is a large exhibit hall and many presentations. I find it challenging as it is busy, crowded, and noisy, but there was a great presentation and another good one. The first presenter spoke on a topic similar to what I am massaging for a dissertation topic and, when I approached her, she graciously agreed to share more of her thoughts and I will contact her. She was genuinely interested and I am pretty jacked.

I also found a nice little restaurant. It wasn’t lost, but I had never been there before and it was a nice place. I finished the book I am reading while I ate lunch. I could have focused on the challenges–noise, crowds, and busyness–instead I pulled three great things out of the day and feel energized. I found this beautiful little poem by Lao Tzu and it resonated. When we turn in and find the extraordinary of the ordinary that is true power.

Knowing others is wisdom;
Knowing the self is enlightment.
Mastering others requires force;
Mastering the self needs strength.

He who knows he has enough is rich.
Perseverance is a sign of will power.
He who stays where he is endures.
To die but not to perish is to be eternally present.

Compassion

Thich Nhat Hanh provided this beautiful quote about compassion and embracing who we are in this world. I need to be inside of someone else`s skin to build compassion.

The essence of love and compassion is understanding, the ability to recognize the physical, material, and psychological suffering of others, to put ourselves “inside the skin” of the other. We “go inside” their body, feelings, and mental formations, and witness for ourselves their suffering. Shallow observation as an outsider is not enough to see their suffering. We must become one with the subject of our observation. When we are in contact with another’s suffering, a feeling of compassion is born in us. Compassion means, literally, “to suffer with.”

A Dream of Warriors

I enjoy reading Thich Nhat Hanh. Presently, I am reading Margaret Wheatley’s new book: So Far From Home. Margaret Wheatley brought shared this by the Zen monk. The poem and book are gentle reminders to pause, reorient ourselves in the present, and find strength and courage to continue the journey. It does not end.

The road goes on and we only walk one step at a time, one moment at a time, and each step moves us into an unknown future. It is good to rest and make each step mindful. We live in the present moment, find courage, and discover strength to carry on. It is in this moment, this space, we are at home, because when we are mindful we can nowhere else.

“They were exhausted. They had been traveling longer than they could remember. Their journey had begun with energy and enthusiasm, but that too they could no longer recall. They had lost many companions along the way—some had turned back, some had refused to go on, some had died of weariness. They all had suffered greatly.

They came to a narrow bridge that spanned a great river running swift and fast. On the far shore they could see what they had dreamed of during all these years of hardship—gentle green valleys and peaceful lakes reflecting clear blue sky. They stood there astonished to realize that what they had struggled so long for was suddenly here.

They began walking across the bridge with joyful steps. Midway across, they were stopped by children who had come to meet them. Tears overcame them for their own children left behind long ago. The children began to speak: “You cannot enter our land. You must go back. You will need to repeat your struggles. You must go back and do it all again.

The warriors stood there quietly. They gazed longingly at the pleasant pastures. They beheld the bright faces of the children. Tenderly, they bent down and kissed their cheeks. Then they stood up and spoke: “We are not afraid.” And they went back to begin again their journey.”

Shoulders

Yesterday, a student grumbled about not liking Math. I responded by saying I did not enjoy it either in school. She looked at me and asked me why I taught it. I explained I am not a Math teacher which elicited a comment about how good I was at it. It all reminded me of the adage: “We do not teach subjects. We teach children.” Or that is what I should do.

I looked for a poem that addressed this need to be a teacher of children. It is a calling. I think of the teachers I had who enjoyed being in the classroom and they carried each of us gently. Naomi Shihab Nye spoke about this lifting up of children and learners. I choose to be a learner with my students. I owe them being able to teach them Math even if I don’t enjoy it.

A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo
but he’s not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy’s dream
deep inside him.

We’re not going to be able
to live in this world
if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing
with one another.

The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.

To Look at Any Thing

It was a busy day. I was alone with the students. Usually, I there is a parent, but today the schedule was unfilled. We were still productive and covered challenging material.

The Grade 7 class is building scenarios and predicting what if learned experience is used in new situations. The Grade 8 class is exploring differences between authority and power. The Grade 9 class is taking and defending positions on the Canadian youth criminal system. Like all good things, learning takes time.

John Moffitt’s poem speaks about a way we learn the world. We should savour it, not consume it.

To look at any thing,
If you would know that thing,
You must look at it long:
To look at this green and say,
‘I have seen spring in these
Woods,’ will not do—you must
Be the thing you see:
You must be the dark snakes of
Stems and ferny plumes of leaves,
You must enter in
To the small silences between the leaves,
You must take your time
And touch the very peace
They issue from.

Dreams

It was a long day. I feel tired and I was not as close to 100% as I thought. Despite that, I had an interesting conversation and, on the way home, I wondered if many children’s dreams have exploded? Do children dream like I did when I was a child? Do some children while others are afraid or unable to dream? I turned those questions over and they reminded me of Langston Hughes’ wonderful poetry. What is my role in holding their dreams with them?

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

The Lame Goat

I feel better; more tired and listless than sick today. I lack of creative juices today, opened one of my poetry anthologies, and came across this Rumi poem. It depends on my perspective whether I lead or follow. Perhaps, I can do both and even at the same time?

You’ve seen a herd of goats

going down to the water.

The lame and dreamy goat

brings up the rear.

They are worried faces about that one,

but now they’re laughing,

because look, as they return,

the goat is leading!

They are many different kind of knowing.

The lame goat’s kind is a branch

that traces back to the roots of presence.

Learn from the lame goat,

and lead the herd back home.

Goat sculpture from found objects, by Picasso.

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