On Teaching: LEARNING THE SKILL OF GOOD BEAHVIOR

Written on February 18, 2005 A friend told me about a journal article he read recently, and I found what he said intriguing. He said the author made the point that behaving well in a social setting like a classroom is a skill, and, like any other skill, it must be learned through practice. As in math or English, some kids learn the skill quickly whereas some learn it slowly over a period of months and years. The author pointed out that, just as we wouldn’t scold a student for not mastering a math skill, we shouldn’t berate a student who is struggling to learn the skill of good behavior. It’s interesting to me that I have not often thought about it in that way. For as long as I’ve been teaching, I haven’t hesitated to scold a student who misbehaves in class. Just the other day, a boy stepped across a chair in a crowded classroom to get to a friend, and I instinctively barked at him in a harsh manner. What bothers me is that I’m sure I wouldn’t have barked at a student who couldn’t master the skill of using a participle in a sentence. The conversation with my friend offers me a different way of thinking about discipline. It helps me remember that firmness and gentleness can go hand-in-hand – that I can be firm when a student misbehaves, but firm in a kind and quiet manner. When a student doesn’t understand a comma rule after repeated explanations, I would probably smile and say, “Let’s try it again. I just know you’ll get this skill before very long” – and perhaps I can say a similar thing to an unruly student. Perhaps I can patiently (but resolutely) guide him back on the right track toward mastering the important (but sometimes difficult) skill of good behavior.

Journal: 8/31/05

Yesterday – finally! – the rains came. It seems like it’s been months since our last rain, and the landscape shows it. The lawns are as brown as though they have been baked, the trees seem weary and unresponsive, and all the flowers have seemingly disappeared. I’m not sure I’ve seen a worse drought in this area since we moved here 28 years ago. But yesterday – ah, moisture, wetness, puddles, running rivers in the gutters, rain hammering on our roofs. It was a wonder to see. At school I spent some time simply staring out at the enormous trees as they stood in the gray rain. I imagined them speaking to each other in their great relief and happiness. I did some more work at school as I prepare myself for the first day of classes next Tuesday. I intend to make this year my very best as a teacher. I’m aiming for nothing less than day-by-day perfection.

Journal: 8/30/05

Last night I had my first college class of the year, and I can’t believe how exciting it was for me. Actually, I had been feeling great anticipation for the entire week leading up to the class. I thoroughly enjoyed preparing my syllabus, and I often pictured myself standing before the class and teaching with energy and affection. As I told the class, I had a restless sleep the night before, simply because I was so thrilled about the new school year starting. Indeed, there seemed to be a thrill in the room last night – well, at least on my part. I felt myself bouncing around in front of the class for the entire two hours – waving my arms, smiling, laughing, learning their names, and just entirely enjoying myself. I realized, for the zillionth time, that this is what I was born to do. I also realized, once again, how utterly lucky I am. I am privileged to be working with the minds of 23 fine people for the next 8 weeks. I have been entrusted with these minds, and it’s my duty and honor to try to show them the secrets of good writing. Last night, I felt, as I often do, rather like a knight setting off on a grand quest, with my students following closely behind. And today I rejoice that this bountiful and satisfying time of year has once again come round.

Journal: 8/28/05

August 29, 2005 Yesterday, Matt and I picked up Jaimie in Brooklyn and drove up to Millbury to help Krissy and Luke move into their house. It was a lively, tiring, and very enjoyable day. We walked up and down their three flights of stairs dozens of times, hauling down big and small items – boxes, bags, tables, chairs, beds, and even their new washing machine. We were fortunate in two respects: the weather was delightfully cool and breezy, and we were all in a friendly, spirited mood. Smiles and laughter were almost always present. We were also fortunate to have so much good help. Jaimie, Matt, and Luke worked tirelessly and good-naturedly, and Krissy’s brother Danny, cousin Pat, and brother-in-law Tom lent their strength and enthusiasm for some of the larger items. (They managed to shove one washing machine down the narrow stairs to the finished basement, and then hauled the old one up.) At the end of the day, a highlight, for Matt and me, was a visit with Noah down in Brooklyn on the way home. Matt played patiently with him for nearly an hour, and it was easy to see that Noah loved having him there. I watched in admiration as this charming little boy and his loving uncle had great fun together. My favorite scene was when Noah donned what he calls his “mowing hat” and pretended to mow the “grass” in the studio. (See picture above.) It was a lovely, lucky Sunday for all of us.

On Teaching: READING AND CLIMBING MOUNTAINS

I have often discussed with my students the analogy between reading a challenging work of literature and climbing a high mountain trail. First of all, both require a great effort. No one would deny that strenuous labor is required to get through and comprehend a play by Shakespeare or one of Dickens’ thorny novels, and the same is true of climbing a trail in the White Mountains. If someone asked a reader who was in the middle of Dickens’ Little Dorrit whether reading it was a “fun” experience, the answer would probably be somewhat negative, just as a hiker halfway up an almost vertical trail in New Hampshire might not be bubbling over with delight, either. The second similarity is that both serious reading and serious hiking require extreme concentration. If you daydream and dawdle while reading a Shakespeare play, you’re simply not going to get it, and if your mind wanders while climbing the trail to Carter Dome, you may find yourself with a sprained ankle, or worse. Both Macbeth and the Carter Notch Trail demand intense, unremitting focus if we plan to be successful readers or hikers. As a final point of comparison, reading literature and climbing steep trails both make use of delayed gratification – meaning many of the best rewards are put off until near the end. As we get into the final third of Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, we often begin to catch glimpses of the overall beauty of the book, just as we may begin to feel proud of our accomplishment as we approach the summit of a mountain. In other words, if you want instant rewards, read easy books and stay on flat trails. Or, to use an old saying, maybe “no pain, no gain” is true for both great books and great mountains.

On Teaching: DETACHMENT

In school, we teachers often encourage our students to be “committed” to the particular goals of a class or an assignment, but it might also be helpful to remind the students that un-commitment, or detachment, can be just as important. To use an analogy, if a field hockey team is totally committed to using a particular strategy during a game, they might fail to notice when changed conditions in the game warrant a change in the strategy. They would be so focused on using their plan that they might miss opportunities to make adjustments and penetrate the opponent’s defense. Their complete commitment might actually be their downfall. The same thing can happen to students. A writer might be so focused on following her outline for an essay that she fails to notice, as she’s writing, a wonderful new direction she could take. Similarly, a reader might be so committed to finding out “what happens” in a novel that he totally misses much of the beauty of the writing. It might be helpful if we teachers encouraged our students to practice the art of detachment – the art, I might say, of pursuing goals but not being controlled by them. If they get the ‘A’ they have set their sights on, fine – but if they don’t, they must be able to free themselves – detach themselves – from that goal and notice the good results that came from the ‘B’. If they commit themselves to travel one road, great – but they must always be ready to take a very different road if the conditions call for it. There may be a few gold coins at the end of one road, but there may be a true treasure at the end of another.

Journal: 8/26/05

Today I took a fairly long and tiring ride, pedaling as hard as I could almost the whole way. I felt surprisingly fresh and robust. The lovely sights of late summer by the sea sped by me as I raced along effortlessly. I felt fortunate to be feeling so spry. It’s a perfectly splendid day. The temperature is in the mid-70s and a comforting breeze has been blowing nearly constantly. Right now, as I type, I can look out the kitchen window and see a patch of completely clear and blue sky. Great news from Jaimie. He got a call from Plainfield Middle School on Tuesday saying they wanted to interview him for an 8th grade English opening. He interviewed yesterday, and bingo, they offered him the job and he quickly accepted. It’s a short 15 minute drive from his house and he seems to be very excited about the whole situation.

Journal: 8/25/05

Journal August 25, 2005 On Tuesday evening, I joined Mike, Neil, Chris (a friend of Neil’s), Lizzie, and Nancy for a birthday dinner for Neil at a place called Blueberry Hill on Delmar. It was a young-looking, festive place, with lots of roominess, merrily decorated walls, and excellent food. Surprisingly for a place that obviously caters to the young at heart, the acoustics were excellent, which it made easy to have great conversations. It was a ninety minute celebration of friendship. Yesterday I had a delightful flight home; the three hours in the air disappeared like thirty minutes. We rose above the clouds quickly and I saw only blue and silver sky around me as we flew along. It was great to get home to Matty and the cozy, cool apartment. Today I finished watching the old Academy Award winner, “An American in Paris”. I absolutely loved the sets and the dancing, and a tear came to my eye at the poignant ending.

Journal: 8/23/05

Yesterday Al andI took Mom to Dierbergs to do some shopping, and then we went to her apartment for a tasty lunch. We made ham and turkey sandwiches and sipped iced tea and chatted about many things. Mom was a little tired after the big party on Sunday night, so we left soon after lunch to give her a chance to rest and relax.

Al, Pete, Barbara Bauer, and I had a wonderful evening in Kirkwood. We met at Pete's new apartment around six, and enjoyed a drink as we sat at his small bar beside the kitchen. In some ways, it's quite a fancy apartment, with spacious rooms and high ceilings and many of the latest household features. It was a comfortable place to partake of a drink with old friends and new (Barbara). Later, we walked down the street to PJs, a local eatery and tavern, where we laughed and chatted for several hours. The food was acceptable, but the conversation and friendship was of the blue-ribbon type. Around eight, we walked back to our cars in the freshly cool St. Louis summer air.

This morning Al, Mom, and I enjoyed a bagel breakfast down at Einsteins in Old Orchard. I think Mom especially enjoyed herself as she chewed a blueberry bagel and sipped two cups of coffee with half-and-half. At noon, Al and I joined Maura for a delightful lunch in Forest Park at the Boat House. We sat right on the lagoon under an umbrella, enjoying the pleasant breeze off the water and watching the small boats taking their passengers peacefully around.

Journal: 8/22/05

Yesterday morning I took a quick, tiring bike ride near Al's house. I found a steep hill and and climbed it repeatedly, feeling stronger each time. I was using Al's traditional fat-tire bike, with no gear shifts and no fancy hand-brakes, so the riding was refreshingly simple. All I had to do was pump my legs and aim for the summit.

Last evening, the entire huge family gathered for the annual swimming party at Glen Echo Country Club, hosted by Susie and Kent and the St. Louis siblings. It was a splendid affair, complete with clear, cooling weather, lots of conversation and laughs, juicy brats and burgers, and refreshing swimming by some. It made me more grateful than ever to be part of such a marvelous family.

Journal: 8/21/05

Yesterday was another sweltering one in St. Louis, although some of the moisture had blown away and the temperature was a few degrees cooler than Friday.
Mom and I had a good time going through the Dollar Tree store near her apartment. I had never been in a store like that, and it was startling to see how many things could be purchased for under a dollar. I ended up buying a 3-pack of mints and three DVDs, each for 99 cents.

Al and I paid a visit to Gary, Jen, Walt, and Eli in the early afternoon, and what fun we had! Those charming boys were giggling and laughing during the entire visit. We sprawled on the floor with their wooden train set, played catch with the soft football, and talked teaching with Gary and Jen (in between football tosses). They are obviously a happy and comfortable family.

Around 4:00, we went up to Webster Pool for an afternoon of fun. Marie and her children joined us and we had a wonderful time together. The sun descended and the air cooled nicely, making the swimming about as enjoyable as it can be. Al splashed around with Grace almost the entire time, and her constants shouts and laughs echoed happily around the pool.

Journal: 8/20/05

Mom and I drove over to Dierberg's supermarket yesterday morning and had a successful shopping outing in the enormous store. We enjoyed walking and talking among the aisles, almost as though we were simply out for a walk and were incidentally picking up groceries along the way. It was a pleasant experience, made even more so by the coridal behavior of the middle-aged and very professional checkout person.

In the late afternoon, we enjoyed a delicious meal at Steak 'n' Shake. The restaurant was refreshingly cool and our amiable waitress made everything completely comfortable for us. It was one of the best Steak 'n' Shake meals I've ever had, starting far back in the '50's.

Yesterday evening, Al, Mary Anne, Maura, Mikey, and I went to Larson Park for a performance by Gracie and her friends from the week-long Drama Camp. It was, we later agreed, one of the hottest outdoor experiences of our entire lives. As the children performed the little skits -- whispering their lines and giggling and bouncing around frenziedly -- we all silently perspired in the windless, roasting air. Grace was thrilled with the evening's activities, and we were made happy by her joy, but we couldn't get out of their fast enough and back to the luxury of air-conditioning.

Journal: 8/19/05

I started my annual summer trip back to my roots in St. Louis yesterday. My flight from Hartford was as comfortable as flights can be -- smooth, trouble-free, and relaxing. I was in the far end of the plane with a gang of small children, but their enthusiasm and sense of joy kept me refreshed for the three hours of the flight. I read, wrote a little, thought some helpful thoughts, and enjoyed the stunning views out my window. Al, Mary Anne, and Mom picked me up promptly at the airport, and we had a pleasant afternoon together. We sat in the cool house on Hampshire Court for an hour or so, and then Mom and I drove back to her apartment. As we always do, we had a pleasant time chatting, looking at photos, and then watching the evening news as we sipped glasses of wine. We went to dinner at Weber's Grill, where we had more good conversation, despite the fact that several children were running amuck around us and the food was less than tasty. I dropped Mom off at her apartment and then went back to Al and Mary Anne's, where I slept long and deeply in the cozy basement suite until 7:00 am.

Journal: 8/17/05

August 17, 2005 This morning I rode out to the beach around seven, and for some reason it was an unusually difficult ride. I struggled and fought and dug down deep to move my bike up even the littlest hills. It was plain hard work for me. However, as usual, there was beauty in the surroundings that more than offset my physical labors. The early sunlight made everything glow more intensely, including the many flowers I passed along the way. (See picture above.) The weather was idyllic all day long. Temperatures reached into the 80’s, but there was a transparency and dryness in the air which made it completely comfortable. Matt went out to the beach for his almost daily swim, and I took several walks, read outside in the park, and washed my kayak in the sunshine.

On Teaching: "Paying Attention"

Written on Tuesday, February 15, 2005 Yesterday, there was a definite lack of attention in my classes, and I want to rectify that situation today. In thinking back on it this morning, I checked a dictionary and found that one of the definitions for “attend” is “to accompany or wait upon someone as a companion or servant.” I like that because it suggests that “paying attention” during class should not be something we do only because the teacher forces us to, but rather something we do because we genuinely care about everyone in the class. We want to be a true companion for our classmates, and so we “attend” to their needs by giving them our attention. We “take care of them” by being attentive when they have something they want to say. There are many important duties I have as my students’ English teacher, but surely none is more important than teaching them how to care for each other. Where to put commas and how to use a participle in a paragraph are relatively unimportant skills when compared to the skill of being good to the people around them. I want to show my students how to be serious readers and writers, but I am far more concerned about helping them become seriously kind people. Oddly enough, being kind to others, being attentive to their needs, is not an easy skill to learn. Like learning how to use participles, attending to other people when they want to share an idea or a feeling requires serious effort. My students and I have to force ourselves, day after day, to practice this wonderful skill of paying attention to others. Yesterday we failed, but today’s another day.

Journal: 8/16/05

Tuesday, August 16, 2005 This morning I loaded my pack with two 10 lb weights and trudged up and down the steps in the park for about 40 minutes. It’s a rather enjoyable form of exercise, I find. The park is a peaceful place at 7:00 am, and I can usually do some satisfying meditating as I climb the steps. It’s also a perfect way to get my mountaineering muscles in shape for our 8th grade 4-day hike in New Hampshire in October. I read some in Dickens’ Little Dorrit this afternoon and got almost nothing out of it. I may have been sleepy, preoccupied, or simply feeling lethargic, or the book may just not have been very well written for those few pages. Whatever the reason, the words flew right past me, just as I’m sure they often do for my students when they’re doing their assigned reading. Perhaps this experience will make me more understanding of their reading troubles. I took a walk in the park after dinner tonight, and it made me wonder why I don’t do that every single night. It’s a perfectly lovely park, just perfect for an evening stroll. Many folks were out to enjoy the beauty of the place as the evening coolness came on.

Poem: "To Relax"

TO RELAX Just lean back in a chair and choose something simple to stare at. A piece of paper sticking out of a waste basket, for instance. As you stare at it, you see that it shines in its own simple way. You continue to stare, and soon you understand the softness of the paper. You see there are words resting on it as on a sofa, words that someone placed there for someone else to find, and now they’re silent and restful on this nameless piece of paper that you’re staring at as the earth spins the way it has for immeasurable years.

Journal: 8/15/05

This morning I rode in the early hours, before seven, when the air was still cool from the darkness. I stayed close to home, riding up and down the hills on the silent streets behind my house. I pushed myself up the highest hills in the neighborhood, and then took pleasure in the easy rides back down. A cool front found our little town today, thank the good Lord. I think many of us felt like throwing our arms up in celebration, or running down the streets in the wonderful coolness. After three weeks of moist, oppressive heat, it was a gift to feel the almost chilly air all day. Had dinner at a friend’s tonight – on the screen porch, tender boneless chicken with a juicy sauce and fine conversation.

Journal: 8/14/05

Sunday, August 14, 2005 Today I continued with my reading of both Little Dorrit and Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale. I’m enjoying both immensely. In fact, as I was reading today, I was reminded that these great authors are people I could easily spend the rest of my reading life with. They both put beautiful music into their words (which is probably what I love best about the excellent writing), but their writings are also overflowing with wisdom. On nearly every page there are truths a person could use as lights to guide his way. I rode out to the beach again to visit with Jan and Annie. We all remarked how fortunate we are to live so close to some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. It takes me 15 minutes to pedal out to our favorite beach, where I can enjoy the lovely views and refresh myself with a swim in the cooling surf. I finished watching the old Academy Award winner, “Marty”. The acting was absolutely superb, especially Ernest Borgnine. It was refreshing to watch a film that relied more on storyline and acting than on special effects.

On Teaching: Stability

Stability in the Classroom I’ve been meditating lately on the importance of stability in my classroom in the upcoming year. In one of my dictionaries, one definition given for the word stable is “resistant to change of position or condition; not easily moved or disturbed.” I would hope that my students will see my English class this year as being stable in that sense – as a class that’s carefully planned and solidly built and therefore not likely to be confusing, capricious, or chaotic. The idea of trust is important here: I want my students to trust that the foundations of my English class in May are going to be exactly the same as they were in September, and, more importantly, to trust that they can take risks in my class because the foundations of the class are stable enough to support them. An even more interesting definition of the word stable is “maintaining equilibrium; self-restoring” as in a stable aircraft. This aspect of stability is vital to any classroom, including mine in 2005-2006. My teaching must definitely be “self-restoring” – able to quickly right itself (like an airplane), after a stumble or a mistake or a poorly taught lesson, and get back on course. My students, too, must learn to be stable in this sense. It might, in fact, be helpful for them to think of themselves as well-balanced airplanes, able to maintain a fair amount of steadiness through any kind of “rough weather” school might throw at them. Finally, a third definition for stable is “enduring or permanent”, as in a stable peace. I would hope that my students will feel this kind of stability in my English classes this year. I guess I hope they will sense, if only occasionally, that what they are learning in my class will “endure” after the class ends in June. We certainly don’t have a “stable peace” in the world, but perhaps in Room 3 I can create a “stable English” for students – an understanding of our language that will endure in at least a somewhat permanent way.

On Teaching: A Resonant Classroom

Written on April 18, 2005 A RESONANT CLASSROOM Resonate: "To evoke a feeling of shared emotion or belief. To correspond closely or harmoniously" Resonant: "Strong and deep in tone; resounding: a resonant voice. Having a lasting presence or effect; enduring. Strongly reminiscent; evocative." In an article I read over the weekend, the author stated that, when a tuning fork or stringed instrument is vibrating, nearby tuning forks or string instruments, if tuned to the same frequency, will begin to resonate or vibrate in harmony with the original device. As I read, I began musing about whether my classroom was resonant in that sense. Could my students and I be thought of as tuning forks or stringed instruments, and could our goals be getting ourselves tuned to the same frequency so we can resonate (be in harmony) together? It was an interesting picture – a classroom resounding with insight and feeling because it is filled with human learning instruments tuned to the same frequency. There are many ramifications of this idea, but one of the most fascinating is that any of the instruments can begin the vibrating. I could certainly be the tuning fork (and often am) who sets the classroom resonating with ideas, but any student could, also. If we’re all tuned to the same frequency, it doesn’t matter who “sets the tone”. We’re like the stringed instruments in an orchestra, all waiting for someone to start a string vibrating so we can all join in. As the definition above suggests, this produces wonderful harmony in the classroom, but, as the definition goes on to suggest, it also produces an enduring effect. A classroom that is resonant is one that stays in the memory – one which produces learning that lasts. Long after the students leave such a classroom, the “sounds” of the learning that occurred there reverberate in their lives. It would be beautiful to teach in such a classroom as that.

A Poem for Today: 8/14/05

SUDDEN CURES: VELCRO STRIPS He stood beside his bike in the sunshine, looping ropes and strings across the pack to tie it securely to the rack. It took him many minutes to fasten everything down. There was a noisy rainstorm along the streets, but he knew a pack tied tightly to his rack would carry him carefully through his journey, no matter what the weather. That’s when the stranger offered him the use of Velcro strips. “Got all I need. Go ahead and use ‘em. Tie anything down.” He unfastened the ropes and strapped on the Velcro strips in just a few seconds. There was something sweet in the air just then, he thought. The showers were passing down the street like a celebration that slowly vanishes. He stood back a step or two and smiled at the Velcro strips and said thanks to the stranger who was walking away.

Journal: 8/13/05

Today I drove up to visit with Luke. Krissy was visiting with a friend, so we went by ourselves to their little favorite cafe, called Puffins. It was humming with business, as usual, but we found a small table and a helpful waitress, and soon we were enjoying a bountiful breakfast. Luke looked healthy and happy, and it was wonderful to talk together about many topics. After the meal, we drove past the house they have purchased -- a lovely home on a quiet, neighborly street. I'm not sure who was happier to see the cozy little house, Luke or me. Later I drove over to see Matt's display of paintings for the annual Mystic Art Fair. The village was packed with people, but Matt was fortunate to have a perfect place from which to offer his paintings to the visitors -- under a shady maple in his mom's front yard. (See picture, above.) I immediately purchased two beautiful prints, one of which is already framed and hanging in my apartment. I'm a lucky art dealer! I rode out to the beach around five to hang out with Jan, Annie, and Matt. The shore was especially beautiful at the end of this sweltering summer day -- a soft haze over the water, the great Watch Hill homes rising in the misty distance, the surf splashing in over the shouting swimmers.

Journal: 8/12/05

Friday, August 12, 2005

I’ve been enjoying my new Netflix subscription. I just finished watching the 1966 Academy Award winner “A Man for All Seasons”, and it was a wonderful experience for me. I watched it on my laptop with earphones, usually lounging contentedly in my large, comfortable chair in the living room. Every so often, I replayed a scene, just to catch some words or better appreciate the fine distinctions. This morning I dropped the DVD in its return envelope into the mailbox, and should receive my next film in about three days. (My next one, in tribute to the upcoming school year, will be a famous teacher-film, “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie”. I’ve also ordered the Sean Connery film about a teacher, “Finding Forrester.” “Goodbye, Mr. Chips” might be next.)

I took a relaxing ride in the kayak this afternoon, around 5:00 when the cooling breezes had started to spring up. It was a totally refreshing time on the river for me. I drifted with the idle current, past two white swans and their brown youngster, (see photo, above) and then tossed out the anchor in the middle of the shady channel. The breeze was delightful as it swept down the river. I settled myself comfortably and read an excellent chapter from Dickens’ “Little Dorrit”. As I paddled back up to my landing place, I passed within fifteen feet of the swans as they lingered by the shore.

On Teaching

Written on Saturday, April 02, 2005 While I was doing some spiritual reading this morning, I occasionally re-read certain important passages, which got me thinking about the value of repetition. It’s amazing how helpful it can be to simply repeat something, especially if we are engaged in a learning process of some sort. This morning I wanted to understand the significance of what I was reading, so I just re-read the passages several times, and the more I repeated the reading, the better I understood. It’s almost a mathematical formula: the more you repeat something, the better you learn it. After I had thought about this for a few moments, I looked up the word “repeat” in the American Heritage Dictionary, and was surprised to discover that it derived from the word for “strive after”. I also noted that the words “compete”, “appetite”, and “perpetual” derive from the same root. So, when I repeat an activity in order to better learn or understand it, I am striving after understanding because I have a hunger, or appetite, for it. In a sense, I am competing with ignorance in order to defeat it, or perhaps I am competing with myself to see how much I can learn. I constantly compete with myself in order to become a better teacher, and I can use these thoughts about repetition in order to improve my work in the classroom. I simply need to remember how important repetition is in any learning process. Whether it’s understanding a poem or learning how to use a gerund in writing, repetition is always an enormous help. Often it’s as simple as that: just repeating the action a few times can bring a surprising amount of mastery.

Journal: 8/11/05

Thursday, August 11, 2005 9:24 am. I’m riding my age today (63 miles), or at least attempting to. I left my apartment at 6:00 am to avoid the heat, and am back home for a break now, typing away on my journal. I’ve done 37 miles so far, and feel pretty good. I saw some interesting sights along the way: a woman jogging along like she was having a wonderful time, body leaning way forward, arms flailing, a huge smile on her face; an old friend (I hadn’t seen him in several years) passing me on his bike, saying a brief hello, and then speeding on; the meadows and ponds and surf rising up out of the warm morning mist. I’m sitting in front of the fan, restocking myself with an energy bar and fresh water, and preparing for the next 15 miles. (Good news: It’s still only 75 degrees!) 1:26 pm I just finished taking a refreshing cold shower and enjoying a hearty lunch after completing my 63 mile bike ride. I must admit to being utterly done in. I’m not at all sure I could have gone even one more mile. It was a thoroughly enjoyable ride, however. The weather stayed cool enough, and I rode along lots of shady, breezy roads. In the morning I rode out to the beach and did many four-mile loops along the shore, and then rode over to Mystic along Route 1. The best part of the ride was the early morning out by the beach. The air was pleasingly cool and the mists were rising off the countryside in lovely ways. After riding about six loops, I stopped to take a quick dip in the chilly surf, and it proved to be just what I needed to restore myself.

Meditation: The River

Written on April 5, 2005 As I was driving up to see Noah, Jess, and Jaimie yesterday, I fell to thinking about an interesting analogy – life as a river. I have been meditating for years on the idea that I am not a separate, isolated physical entity but rather part of a seamless whole, and yesterday I began thinking about that in terms of a river. I pictured someone standing on the bank of a deep, wide river and focusing on one tiny section of the water – perhaps a spot where there seems to be a small whirlpool. It would be easy for that person to imagine that the whirlpool is a separate, isolated entity, and that it somehow exists independent of the river itself. It would be easy, but it would be utterly wrong. In the same way, it’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that I am distinct and disconnected from the rest of the universe, but this, too, would be a mistake. Like the small section of the river with the whirlpool, I am a section of a river -- the vast river of life. I move because this river of life moves. I can no more be a separate, isolated entity than the whirlpool can be separate from the river. What’s even more fascinating is that this river of life that I am a part of is infinite. It has no banks and no bottom, no source and no mouth. Whether I am always aware of it or nor, I am part of an incomprehensibly powerful force that has no beginning and no ending and extends out forever in all directions. I might pretend that I am separate, that I live “my own life”, and that I’m responsible for thousands of important jobs, but I would be wrong. The river does all of the work. Like the little whirlpool, I just move along with it.

On Teaching

THOROUGHNESS AND THRILLS Since one of my major goals this year is to be a totally thorough teacher, it was interesting to discover recently that the word “thorough” derives from the same root that gives us the word “thrill”. The original meaning of “thorough” was “from end to end”, and “thrill” originally was connected to the idea of being “pierced”. In the early days of our language, if you were pierced by something, it would go through you literally “from end to end”, and medieval folks, I suppose, would have spoken of it as a “thrilling” experience. We even get a hint of the word “thrill” in the sound of the word “thorough”, as though wherever you find thoroughness (or piercingness), you will find a thrill, and vice versa. It’s wonderful to realize, from this, that being a thorough teacher might be the best way to insure that there will be at least a few thrills in my classes. If I can always take the students completely through a learning experience, "from end to end", they may be able, more and more, to enjoy the thrills of reading and writing. They may even occasionally feel “pierced” by the great power of this subject. This reminds me of something I’ve heard people say now and then – that a scream or an explosion or the sudden sound of an alarm was so loud that it went “right through” them. I guess this is what I hope will happen in English class this year. If I can patiently and systematically cover the entire ground of each lesson, from one side to the other and from top to bottom, then perhaps my students will feel that the lessons went “right through” them. Might they even think of English class, at least intermittently, as thrilling?

On Teaching

A CLASSROOM WHERE YOU CAN’T GIVE A WRONG ANSWER A friend today was fondly reminiscing about one of his teachers in law school, a professor in whose class, my friend said, “you couldn’t give a wrong answer.” When I asked what he meant, he said the professor always found something right in every statement a student made. If a student’s answer was a little off track as far as the professor’s original question was concerned, he always managed to discover some praiseworthy gem of wisdom in the answer. My friend remembered many instances when the professor (he was a tax expert) said something like this to a student: “That wouldn’t work in this particular transaction, but it’s a very interesting idea, one that could be easily applied to the transaction we were discussing yesterday.” In this way, my friend said, you always had a comfortable feeling about speaking up in his class, because you knew he would find something to commend in your comment. As soon as my friend described this professor, I knew it was something I wanted to keep in mind in this upcoming school year. “YOU CAN’T BE WRONG” might be a sign I could place at the entrance to my room, as a way of assuring my students that some wisdom will be found in each of their thoughtful comments during class. Indeed, my students need to know that wisdom is so huge, so complex, and so omnipresent that some of it always resides in all of us. Like my friend’s professor, I want my students to have faith in their own intelligence, to have the confidence and courage to share their thoughts with the class, and to know that I will always find the wisdom, however veiled, in what they say.

Daily Journal

Tuesday, August 9, 2005 I discovered some wonderful new roads to ride on this morning – right in my own neighborhood. I had only about 45 minutes to get my riding in, so I decided to ride the hills near my house, and was pleasantly surprised. The streets were almost empty of traffic, and the neighborhoods were peaceful places to pass through – just silent houses sitting in the early morning mist. I went up and down some demanding hills several times, and cheered for myself when I came back, fairly fatigued, to my apartment. Matty and I both miss young Noah these days. He’s up in Maine with Jess and Jaimie, probably loving the beautiful beaches and the deep woods around Spirit Pond. Something is missing from our lives while he’s gone – his constant smiles, his unbounded exuberance, his little-boy kindness. I bought a lovely multi-colored rug yesterday, and it looks perfect in the center of the living room. I also bought – horrors! – fake yellow flowers from Pier 1, but they actually look quite beautiful, and anyone would be hard-pressed to notice that they are not real. And anyway, the new rug is fake, too, and no one complains about that!

My Journal

Monday, August 8, 2005 I took a quiet trip in my kayak down the Wood River this afternoon. Due to low water, I didn’t go far – just a half mile or so – but it was a rewarding trip nonetheless. The river, I thought, was especially beautiful because of the shallowness of the water, which made it easy to see the sandy bottom in the sunshine, and which created many short stretches of shining rapids. Of course, the low water meant I had to get out and walk beside the kayak in the rapids, but that allowed me to enjoy the look of the rippling water even more. I drifted downstream until I found a lovely pool beside a sandy bank, where I dropped my anchor and let the kayak come to a rest. It seemed a picture perfect, unspoiled place to me. If a person needed a little serenity in his life, this would be a spot to seek out. The quietness was what I noticed most of all. The only sounds were the occasional song of a distant bird, or the rustling of winds in the high trees, or the ripple of a fish surfacing for food upstream. I leaned back in my comfortable seat and relaxed with my copy of Dickens’ Little Dorrit. As I read a chapter, a blue damselfly periodically landed on the edge of the kayak and stayed there as the breeze slightly ruffled its wings.

A Poem for Today

SUDDEN CURES: A BOOK There was a book that spoke no words. It sat and sighed beside this friend or that. It asked nothing and gave nothing. Nobody broke the silence of this shy book, until one morning some singing was heard from far inside the book, back in the last chapters. Then some news was softly broadcast from the table of contents, and visions were announced from somewhere in the center of this suddenly brave book.

Daily Journal

Sunday, August 7, 2005 Today I woke up extra early (around 4:30) and did some quiet reading as the morning was arriving outside. As I sat in the rocker and read, the fan was softly humming and the early birds were starting their songs in the trees. As usual, it was a good time to read, and to think. By the time 6:00 rolled around and my coffee was brewing, I felt like I was thoroughly ready for the surprises of the coming day. I rode out to the beach around 9:00, fully intending to do just a casual, easy ride. However, as often happens, once I got on the bike and felt the cool breeze sort of pushing me along, I gradually speeded up, until, before a mile or so, I was fairly flying along the roads. It’s hard to resist the call of speed when you’re heading for the sea on beautiful roads along a silver river. I made a wonderful discovery today. For three years, I have had a comfortable ottoman placed directly in front of a big chair in the living room, but actually, Matt and I rarely ever use it. So yesterday I pushed it over near the TV so we could stretch our legs occasionally as we’re watching the Red Sox. It looks perfect there, and it was wonderful to lean back, put my feet up, and enjoy the Sox’ 11-7 victory over the Twins.

Casual Thoughts

“The Useful and the Great” An old hymn encourages us “to do…the useful and the great, the thing that never dies, the silent toil that is not lost.” I was thinking of this yesterday after I had a brief but wonderful conversation with a man who passed me on the beach. We only talked for a few minutes, and our conversation covered relatively inconsequential topics, but nonetheless, I believe we did a “useful and great thing” together. It was a just a passing chat between strangers, yet, in a very real sense, it was an event with important significance. I guess the point of the old hymn is that anything we do can be “useful and great”, and that even our smallest activity “never dies”, but extends its significance in fathomless ways far into the future and out to the edges of the universe. No one paid attention to us as we talked beside the surf, and certainly no lives were dramatically changed by what we said, but still, the words we spoke had – and are still having – their immeasurable effects. Like a pebble dropped into an infinite sea, every particular action we perform, even the “silent toil” that no one else notices, sends ripples out into the vast reaches of the universe. That stranger’s life was changed by our conversation, and so was mine – perhaps only in small, unnoticeable ways, but changed nevertheless. We sent out a ripple “that never dies” into the sea of life, and we can only imagine what its innumerable ramifications will be as the years and decades pass.

A Poem for Today

SUDDEN CURES: THE GYMNASIUM A certain school gymnasium never knew how to rejoice with the students. Its floor sat crossly as the sneakers ran across it, and its walls wouldn’t shake when the kids shouted. It was a thoroughly listless gymnasium. But one day the sweetheart world outside shone in through all the windows, and the gymnasium saw the celebration that’s always happening everywhere. That afternoon the boys and girls broke records as they ran on the cheerful floor.

Daily Journal

Saturday, August 6, 2005 Today I took a brief, pleasurable kayak trip on which I made good use of my new anchor. It’s just a small (3 lb.) grappling hook, but it worked beautifully in the middle of a leisurely section of the Pawcatuck River. On this breezy afternoon, I tossed the anchor overboard about 3:30 pm, watched the rope go taut and hold the kayak steady, and proceeded to spend a half hour lounging on the gentle river and reading a book on Hamlet. I went to a dinner party tonight with some good friends. As the daylight faded, we sat on the deck sipping drinks, enjoying tasty snacks, and sharing news. The main course was delicious, made even more so because we enjoyed it outside in the summer darkness, surrounded by candles, torches, and a small, cheerful fire in the outdoor fireplace. News flash: I have signed up for Netflix, the online DVD rental agency. I’ve decided I need to get my nose out of books now and then and occasionally watch a good film. My first movies – A Man for All Seasons and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (in honor of the upcoming new school year) – should be arriving in the mail tomorrow. I must pick up some popcorn at the store today!

CASUAL THOUGHTS

“Ownership”` I’ve been thinking recently about all the “property” I “own”. I put the words in quotation marks because, while I don’t legally own the properties, in another very special sense I do own them. Presumably the greatest reward of ownership is the ability to enjoy what you own, and I enjoy these properties as much as any legal owner could. I use them, benefit from them, appreciate them, and take care of them, and thus I get as much pleasure from them as I would if I were the rightful owner. The properties I’m speaking of are the lovely public park near my house, the Wood and Pawcatuck Rivers, and the many beaches along the Rhode Island shoreline. I don’t have a legal deed to these properties, but when I visit them, I feel and behave exactly like an owner would. The trees and lawns in the park, the dreamily flowing river and its adjoining woods and fields, and the sands of the beaches stretching for miles – all are “mine” when I pay them a visit. When I was younger, I often dreamed of legally owning a large piece of beautiful property, and now, miracle of miracles, I actually own three! What’s especially wonderful about this is that I don’t have the usual worries that accompany legal ownership. For instance, I don’t have the enormous burden of paying taxes on them or maintaining them. My only task is to enjoy them. Today I have already strolled through “my” park, and this afternoon I intend to enjoy the sea breezes on one of “my” beaches. Lucky me!

A Poem for Today

SUDDEN CURES: A BOX OF PAPERS It was simply a box full of discarded papers – old essays, paragraphs, and poems. In his confusion, he found himself staring at them one modest morning, when suddenly before his eyes the papers were transformed into astonishing documents, and all the separate words were cured and could sing and celebrate once again.

Daily Journal

Friday, August 05, 2005 While sitting in the park this morning doing some spiritual reading, I kept hearing the sounds of little girls screaming and shouting with happiness. It was a misty morning, very early, and the sounds seemed to be coming from far away. Every so often I would hear them again, and I would look up and gaze through the mist and listen to those distant sounds of early morning delight. On a sweltering afternoon, I found some shady relief on the Pawcatuck River near Ashaway. I drifted along in my inflatable kayak, pushed occasionally by a pleasant breeze. Some Canada geese and three swans were enjoying the river also, and we drifted along quietly, seemingly on an outing together to take pleasure in the coolness of the shady trees along the shore. I rode out to the beach this morning, where I happened to have a very agreeable conversation with a man who was walking with his wife. He stopped to ask about my bike, and we proceeded to have a wonderful 10-minute chat about teaching, books, teenagers, bikes, Westerly, West Hartford, beaches, and summer heat. It was a brief but satisfying encounter, one which I savored as I pedaled back home.

A Poem for Today

DUST DOESN’T HURRY Dust doesn’t hurry. It wants to do the simple thing. It thinks the universe is an easy place to live in. It says who it is by never rushing, by knowing that any place is a perfect place for dust. It knows where it belongs— on branches, on floors, across our silent hair. When we rush to our serious meetings, dust is peacefully sleeping on our shoulders. When the worst thing that could possibly happen happens, there’s dust all around us, sailing or landing, just as it should.

Daily Journal

Friday, August 05, 2005 I had several pleasant surprises yesterday. First, I was surprised, once again, by how effortless my bike riding seems to be lately. I rode to school and back, and pushed myself hard almost the entire way. There weren’t many hills on my route, but still, I felt accomplished that I was able to easily keep a speedy pace from start to finish. Second, a wonderful incident surprised me yesterday afternoon. A gang of skateboarders came rushing past me in downtown Westerly, but, just as I started to scold them under my breath, I saw them leave their boards and dash into the street to pick up scattered bottles of Poland Spring water. As I watched, I realized that a case of bottles had fallen out of a truck, and the boys were briskly helping to gather them up again. What amazed me was how quickly they had decided to help. In a flash, those skateboards had been abandoned and the boys had embarked on a generous mission. Finally, in the late afternoon, during what seemed like the height of the heat, I rode out to the beach to see some friends. I was prepared for a scorching ride, but, surprisingly, I felt much cooler almost as soon as I started pedaling. A lot of my route was shaded by tall trees, but I also think there must have been a sudden drop in temperature. As I pedaled along in the pleasant coolness, I fantasized that He who controls the temperature decided to blow in some satisfying breezes as soon as I got on the bike.

Daily Journal

Wednesday, August 03, 2005 Yesterday I spent some long and fruitful hours at school working on my curriculum for the upcoming year. It was a moist, muggy day, so I was fortunate to be able to work in the pleasantly cool library. I have set up a temporary office for myself in a corner of the Computer Lab, complete with new speakers for my music, my color printer, and all my necessary books and papers. I worked all day in a snug, orderly, and happy atmosphere – ‘happy’ because I was happy to be getting ready for school again. More good bike rides yesterday. I’m feeling stronger and steadier by the day. I especially enjoying roaring into Westerly, dodging nimbly through the traffic, and pulling up to a sudden, exhausted halt in front of my apartment. I must get out into the kayak today. I can’t wait to see it all pumped up and clean on the sandy bank of the river. It will be a warm day, but I’ll find a shady side of the river to cruise along in coolness.

Daily Journal

Wednesday, August 03, 2005 Riding to school today, I saw an elderly couple out trimming the bushes in front of their house at 7:10 am. At first I was surprised that they were out so early, but then I thought, hey, it’s cool in the early hours, they probably love doing this together in the seclusion of the morning, they’ll probably have a celebratory second cup of coffee in a few minutes. As I rode down a hill on Route 1, their life seemed pretty good to me. I took a wonderful kayak ride this afternoon. I put in just below the Woodville Dam, on a stretch of the river that I was completely unfamiliar with, and drifted languidly downstream for 30 minutes or so. It’s a deep and slow-moving section of the river, perfect for meditation, sight-seeing, or even a little quiet reading. Within a moment of pushing off, I felt totally relaxed. A 7-year-old boy from next door named Dallas is becoming quite a character in the neighborhood. When I rode into the driveway today, coming from school, he rushed over on his bike. After answering a few questions, I started to take my bike inside. “Too bad you have to go in,” he said. “I was hoping to go for a ride with you.”