Jumping Off the Plane

It is now a month and a half since I wrote last. In that time, we've moved an entire household (although I'll confess there are still a lot of boxes around) and traveled to both coasts. In fact, we've driven through 27 states, stayed in 23 different cities and traveled just under 10,000 miles in two months. When we finally returned to our new home, we had just a few short days before we were plunged into that educational no man's land known as "in-service".

Things happened so fast, I barely had time to notice that finally, I am teaching in a school! It is only part-time (at least in pay) and my one daily class still has only five kids, but I am on the payroll. I have projects and email and meetings and office politics and the whole nine. I am gainfully employed and I don't think I could have found a better place to take this step.

I was sitting in our all school meeting, hearing the head of school repeat the resident, somewhat prosaic mantra. "The students come first, which means we come second." You think well yes, of course. But it was his emphasis on the second part of that statement that has made this idea curl up in my brain and take hold. Think about it, what does it mean to own this idea that you are creating a student-centered program? Putting the student first seems natural. Most people who go into teaching are the kind of people who will go that extra mile, so it seems redundant to state it.

However, to articulate that we come second is something else entirely. It implies a mindset that, coming from my protestant reformed tradition, I would almost call spiritual. My religious training taught me that I had to "die to self" in order to follow God, and I'll confess that this is a struggle in my life. In the true sense, dying to oneself is not the eradacation of personality in order to become a God-clone, but to have a willing and open heart, so that my true spiritual identity and purpose can be made manifest. It means accepting that I can make many, many plans but that they are all pretty much crackerjacks when faced with the eternal. It means control is an illusion and we only have power over the willingness we bring to bear on our circumstances and the spirit in which we respond to our challenges.

In more Oprah-esque terms, I have two options in spiritually dealing with things like displacement,  unemployment and financial hardship. I can cling to my self, and mourn the loss of my plans, where and who I thought I would be and let myself be wrapped up in my fears for my family. Or, I can try to let my illusory self go (an ongoing process to be sure) so that I might find my authentic life, in the present state of my circumstances. I will never know what is truly possible unless I put my self last and my life first.

So what does this mean then in the classroom? I'm sure for many the idea of "coming second" means poor self-care, being a doormat, passive aggressive resentment or even feelings of martyrdom. Teachers are so often asked to give past the point of breaking, it almost seems abusive to keep repeating to them "you come second".

Except it isn't. If you had been in any of my meetings this week and seen the looks on the listening faces, you might have thought you were at a tent revival and not an in-service meeting. I'm sure there are dissenting voices and I will come to know them in time. Still, the majority of the folks hearing looked ready to finish each repetition with a rousing AMEN! And I wondered, what is different here?

I think the answer lies in two things, purpose and ownership.

It is one thing to take advantage of a teacher's natural inclination to sacrifice themselves for their students. It is quite another to charge that teacher with a purpose. It is powerful to be told we are here for one common purpose, no one of us is greater than that purpose, and that includes everyone. We must die to our preconceptions so that we are free to do the work that needs doing, not the work we thought we wanted or that feels most comfortable. It's a worthy mission and it puts into positive terms the given circumstances of the profession.

Ownership is something else, it is not just responsibility, but also knowing you are not alone. It's the difference between being thrown out of an airplane and having someone jump with you. While the first instance might be empowering on some level and you may yet land successfully, the jump was not your choice. In my experiences this week I've felt on several occasions like I'm standing at the door of the plane and instead of feeling a push, there is a linking of arms. We may all go down with a thud or our chutes may get blown miles off course or we might make a nearly perfect landing. But the decision to jump is mine, and there is a whole group of lunatics waiting to jump with me.

So maybe teaching is a religion. Maybe we shall all worship at the holy shrine of student-centered process-driven hyphen-happy learning. More importantly for me, however, I'm starting to feel safe for the first time in years, and it is in the midst of total uncertainty and risk.

I'm ready to come second. I'm ready to die to self. Bring it on, I want to see what happens next.