Category Archives: Leadership

Tolerance and Flexibility

Posted on April 5, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Despite the weather, we had a great day. Many students do not attend Fridays. In past years, we attended every second Monday. Our administration changed that this year without consulting parents or me. I struggled with it for several months and made a dramatic shift a couple of months ago. I decided to devote Fridays to art i.e. drawing, painting, and building. I am not an artist in that sense, but was able to get access to resources from a friend who is an artist and an excellent teacher. The students enjoy the change. We built kites today and I felt a positive and life-giving energy in the room. I thought of this poem by Lao Tzu.

Living humans are soft and limber.

Dead they are hard and rigid.

Living, the 10, 000 grasses and wood species are soft and crisp.

So “hard” and “rigid” accompany death.

“Soft” and “limber” accompany life.

So if armies are coercive, they do not triumph.

When wood is strong, the axe comes out.

Strength and dominance reside below.

The soft and limber belong higher.

16 Comments

Posted in Education, Leadership, Lesson Plans, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Art, creativity, education, Educational Leadership, Kites, Lao Tzu, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, Tolerance and Flexibility. Bookmark the permalink.

The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm

Posted on March 27, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I slowed down since we arrived in Phoenix. I feel like this when I travel to Spokane. It takes a few days, but eventually I move slower, take time to look around, and smell the proverbial roses.

I read Nicholas Carr‘s The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to our Brains and found unexpected inspiration. I chose the book as part of the course and dissertation preparation. Carr used poetry to support some of his ideas. He included Wallace Stevens’ poem about immersing one’s self into reading, the solitude found there, and the world that emerges. The author speaks to me as I find calm and solitude.

People commented on the re-blog, Solitude, about a concern for children and an inability to disconnect from digital technologies. I agree and it is partly what motivates me in my dissertation path. Where I teach and learn, I see readers. It is a pastime supported by many families and embraced by many children. Many families limit technology use and television viewing in their homes. Many students play musical instruments, join choirs, and enjoy the arts. It is a concern, but there are examples of children and families mindfully using technology.

The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night

Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,

Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.

The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.

The world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself

Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

14 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, education, leadership, Mindful Practice, Nicholas Carr, poetry, teacher as transformer, The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm, The Shallows, using technology, Wallace Stevens, wallace stevens poem. Bookmark the permalink.

I pastori (The Shepherds)

Posted on March 14, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I might have posted this lovely poem by Gabrielle D’Annunzio in September as I began school, but it speaks to me. Perhaps, I am better off to read it at other times than the beginning.

I recalled the poem, when I heard of the election of the Pope, Francis I. I thought it was a fitting name for the person who would be a shepherd. I hope he fulfills his Jesuit tradition of social justice and teaching.

When I heard the name he chose, it reminded of St. Francis of Assisi. Kathy and I used the Prayer of St. Francis as part of our wedding ceremony and hangs on our bedroom wall.

September, let’s go. It’s time to migrate.

Now in the land of Abruzzi my shepherds

leave the folds and go towards the sea:

they go down to the wild Adriatic

that is green like mountain pastures.

They’ve drunk deeply from the Alpine fonts,

so that the taste of their native water

may stay in their exiled hearts for comfort

to deceive their thirst along the way.

They’ve renewed their hazelnut sticks.

And they go along the ancient bridleway,

that is almost like a silent grassy river

in the traces of the ancient ancestors.

Oh voice of the one who first

discerns the shimmering of the sea!

Now along this coast moves the flock.

Without movement is the air.

The sun bleaches the living wool so that

it almost blends into the sand.

Swishing, stamping, sweet sounds.

Ah why am I not with my shepherds?

12 Comments

Posted in Education, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged education, Franciscans, Gabrielle D'Annunzio, human-rights, I pastori, Jesuits, leadership, Mindful Practice, poetry, prayer of st francis, spirituality, stewardship, teacher as transformer, The Shepherds. Bookmark the permalink.

Preface to Leaves of Grass

Posted on March 2, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I re-blogged Distraction and Love yesterday. John posted it originally at What is Real True Love? He followed up to comment and left a long, wonderful comment with quotes. What distracts us? I only ask and answer that question when I have the space and solitude. It is in those moments that I can hold my questions and have enough compassion to receive the answers. I was led to this passage by Walt Whitman from John’s comments. I gently question my facts and truths, learned throughout my life in the quiet of meditation and prayer.

I love his beard and hair. When I grow up, I might look like him. I hope to find the wisdom Whitman spoke of so eloquently. Enjoy.

“Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote you income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take your hat off to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul your very flesh shall be a great poem.”

23 Comments

Posted in Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, leadership, Leaves of Grass, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, Walt Whitman, What is Real True Love. Bookmark the permalink.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Posted on February 26, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

This is not the poem. I chose a part that speaks to me deeply. I tend to be a bit of rebel. I know it hard to believe, but I am always willing, when others are not, to shake up the things as they are. T. S. Eliot said it so well: “Do I dare/Disturb the universe?” I find comfort some days in the power of that question. What in my universe needs to be disturbed? Even as I grow older, what does wisdom call on me to do that ruffles my feathers and those around me?

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea…

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

14 Comments

Posted in Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, eloquent questions, leadership, Mindful Practice, mindfulness, poetry, T. S. Eliot, teacher as transformer, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Bookmark the permalink.

Stillness, Silence, Insight, Clarity

Posted on February 24, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I am reading Buddha’s Brain which summarizes the neuroscience about the benefits of meditation and solitude. The authors, Rick Hanson and Richard Mendius, intertwined science and poetry from practitioners of contemplative practices.

A few weeks ago, I began to blog differently and blogged less each day plus plus continued to take a day away from the computer. I thought I would feel less connected, but I feel more connected. I might have more clarity when I blog as I move in and out of stillness and quiet. I leave you with this short and profound poem by Tenzin Priyadarshi from the above noted book.

If there is no stillness,

there is no silence.

If there is no silence,

there is no insight.

If there is no insight,

there is no clarity.

27 Comments

Posted in Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged blogging, clarity, insight, Mindful Practice, poetry, quiet, Richard Mendius, Rick Hanson, spirituality, stillness, teacher as transformer, Tenzin Priyadarshi. Bookmark the permalink.

A Path for Warriors

Posted on February 9, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I commented I finished Margaret Wheatley‘s book, So Far From Home. She concluded with a beautiful poem. It reminded how importance quiet and mindful moments are. I was less rushed these last couple of days and it was like a digital sabbath.

Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, wrote: “The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence. More than that, it is cooperation in violence. The frenzy of the activist…destroys his own inner capacity for peace. It destroys the fruitfulness of his own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.”

My mother used to teach us about being Soldiers of Christ. We walk in the “same steps as Christ” (2 Corinthians 12:18, 1 Peter 2:21). We “[pray] always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit” (Ephesians 6:18), and “open your mouth boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel” (Ephesians 6:19). Soldiers, in this context, seek peace from within and quiet the mind so their actions and words parallel each other.

We are grateful to discover our right work and happy to be engaged in it.

We embody values and practices that offer us meaningful lives now.

We let go of needing to impact the future.

We refrain from adding to the aggression, fear and confusion of this time.

We welcome every opportunity to practice our skills of compassion and insight, even very challenging ones.

We resist seeking the illusory comfort of certainty and stability.

We delight when our work achieves good results yet let go of needing others to adopt our successes.

We know that all problems have complex causes. We do not place blame on any one person or cause, including ourselves and colleagues.

We are vigilant with our relationships, mindful to counteract the polarizing dynamics of this time.

Our actions embody our confidence that humans can get through anything as long as we’re together.

We stay present to the world as it is with open minds and hearts, knowing this nourishes our gentleness, decency and bravery.

We care for ourselves as tenderly as we care for others, taking time for rest, reflection and renewal.

We are richly blessed with moments of delight, humor, grace and joy.

We are grateful for these.

39 Comments

Posted in Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged human-rights, inner wisdom, leadership, Margaret Wheatley, Mindful Practice, poetry, sabbath, So Far From Home, soldiers of christ, spirituality, teacher as transformer, Thomas Merton. Bookmark the permalink.

Tao Te Ching #33

Posted on February 7, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

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.

25 Comments

Posted in Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, Mindful Practice, servant-leadership, spirituality, Tao Te Ching, Tao Tzu, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Working Together

Posted on February 2, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I read and heard about innovation several times over the the past few days. I was professionally developed yesterday and it came up again. The person indicated innovation is half-formed ideas bumping up against each other as we share them. I wondered about that, because it suggests we work together, collaborate, and recognize the interdependent nature of humans and the world they live in together. I rarely see this and I doubt a bureaucratic mindset is one that embraces those features of innovation. I read recently, and I apologize about a lack of reference, that it is not enough to show up. We need to do something when we get there. David Whyte summarized this beautifully in the following poem.

We shape our self
to fit this world

and by the world
are shaped again.

The visible
and the invisible

working together
in common cause,

to produce
the miraculous.

I am thinking of the way
the intangible air

passed at speed
round a shaped wing

easily
holds our weight.

So may we, in this life
trust

to those elements
we have yet to see

or imagine,
and look for the true

shape of our own self
by forming it well

to the great
intangibles about us.

25 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, David Whyte, education, innovation, leadership, Mindful Practice, poetry, school, teacher as transformer, Working Together. Bookmark the permalink.

To be of use

Posted on January 24, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Yesterday, I spoke with a frustrated parent. Our little school thrived because parents contributed in meaningful ways to their children’s education. This parent said she was felt like an unpaid employee whose efforts were no longer valued. Now, she could have been just being nice, but she told me she felt welcomed and appreciated in my classroom.

When we ask people, of all ages, to do something they should feel welcomed and worthy of the effort they give. Marge Piercy wrote about this human need to do real work. We find purpose, worth, and identity in our calling. Voice and vocation come from the same etymological roots. We find voice in the work that chooses us. Real work calls us and makes us whole.

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.