incoherent teacher babble

Not that you asked, but I thought it might be worth sharing one of my educational principles as a 

Professor of Art for more than 20 years.  If you're young and you're still having to write a "philosophy of education" to get a job, you may want to roll this around in your brain and see how you may word it better and use it.  If you're mid-career and still actively stealing ideas to make your teaching more effective, this one is an easy steal.  And finally, if you're not in education at all, and you're still reading, I would bet this concept easily translates into whatever profession you're in or perhaps even into your personal life.  

Here's the principle:  Never tell a student something is impossible.  

Of course, there should be a huge asterisk at the end of that and we'll get to all the exceptions later, but for now, just take it for what it says.

Sculpture is a discipline of realism.  Sure, your composition may look cool with all that weight on one side of the form, but in sculpture, it has to actually stand up.  Gravity is a thing, like it or not.  You may not want to add another leg but the realism of gravity may demand it.  You may want to make your idea 10 feet tall, but that process may take you 10 years and we only have a semester.  There's an almost infinite list of examples of when the realism of science takes precedent over the idealism of the sketchbook.  

My job as the professor is to look at the ideas early on and advise the student in whatever direction I know realism will take them.  Lots of experience has given me the ability to look at a sketch and listen to an idea and quickly be thinking several steps ahead so that I can help the student navigate potential problems and pitfalls.  Knowing they're likely to get frustrated in 3 weeks with a difficult step they don't even know exists yet allows me to adjust their "choose your own adventure" book.  Rarely do I tell them why I'm giving the advice I'm giving.  To do so would take more time than we have in the studio class, carefully explaining every step and providing reasons why.  So what generally happens is, I look at the idea, listen to the student explain and I point them in a direction I believe will give them success.

The problem with that is I may define success differently than a student.  Students are often most concerned with the finished product as they think that impacts their reputation and final grade.  There's certainly some truth to that expectation, but as a teacher, I'm more concerned with the process of critical thinking and decision making they'll do along the way.  This means I may know that the student will likely not be able to make the thing they're planning, but that they'll have to make choices in the creative process that will probably yield some sort of successful sculpture, just not the one they planned.  

Looking at a sketch of an idea prior to the student touching the material is mostly just an assessment of their compositional skills.  I'll always insist on multiple ideas and when I look at those, I'm looking for creativity and composition.  If I know there's no way the reality of the material will do what they want, I may tell them and encourage them to move to a different idea.  Sometimes I'll see the impossible things in the sketch and I'll take what I know about the student and decide if I should just turn them loose on the idea or steer them away.  

One really good example of this occurred in August when the fall semester began.  A student brought me sketches and there was a page with a blue heron sketched on it in a mostly realistic fashion.  A big heavy body and some long skinny legs...not the kind of idea I would usually green light for a project made from laminated plywood.  I encouraged the student to think about using abstraction to make the design better.  Once they showed me those changes, I asked a couple of exploratory questions and knew that there were some potential solutions the student might discover if I let her run free.  I took a second and told her to get started.  Yes, if you're wondering, I did indicate my concern over the skinny legs.  Just enough information to plant a seed.  

In the next few weeks, the student went about carefully and meticulously creating the individual parts of the bird, all separately.  This was the exploration of media.  The student had never made a sculpture before and never used wood or power tools.  All of it was new.  There was much learning and I was happy with the progress, even as I worried that all the parts may not join together at the end.  

More hours were logged and as I raised questions about physical connections, the student thought about possible solutions that fit within the project requirements.  Among those were that students could only use wood and adhesive, so no nails or screws.  My projects are problem-based so some of my criteria points are diabolical.  I'm not ashamed.  

In the final days before the deadline, I was already happy with what the student had learned.  All of the things they needed to learn about carving wood and using tools safely were covered.  Each part of the bird looked like the original plan and as the student started assembling the parts, from easy to difficult, things were going well.  

These connections often break at least a few times.  Again, diabolical, but it teaches students to plan their studio time, deal with unexpected problems and to continually critically assess their sculptures.  In this student's situation, each break meant stopping progress and allowing another 12-24 hours of drying time before adding yet another heavy and precarious piece of wood.  

By the day before critique, this project was a comedy of errors.  I made sure I was a part of these last few studio hours so that the student would learn to laugh at the problems as they stacked up so high.  This may be one of the healthiest things I can teach a student.  The laughter lightened the mood and also allowed more blood to flow to her brain while she continued to problem solve.  When I left for the night, the student had carefully constructed a ridiculous support system to hold the sculpture up so it could dry.  Just like in the beginning, there was no way it was going to work.  

In the critique, she took away all the supports and the rickety sculpture actually (kind of) stood up on its own for a minute.  

That's not the student in the photo, just a kind observer who held the bird upright while it was critiqued.  The bird was finished by the deadline, it was critiqued and it was very successful as a sculpture.  It did not stand completely on it's own and while it was stabilized for the length of the critique, it wobbled and a couple of pieces worked their way loose.  I was still very impressed that the student had carried the process so far.  She had done the impossible and this was the first time I told her it was impossible.  You see, if you don't tell someone it can't be done, they might just do it.  

The student took the suggestions from critique and decided to keep working on the bird.  She wanted it to be able to be exhibited, which meant it had to be reliably sturdy.  Now that the project was over, she had the freedom to use a couple of screws if needed.  We talked through some ideas and she came up with a good plan to make the bird work.  

As soon as it was done, we very, very carefully transported the fragile bird to a pedestal and he survived the trip.  Here he is in his 360 degree glory:

Now for those asterisks.  

Dude, of course you have to tell a student something is impossible when it's absolutely not possible.  The last thing you want to do is have a first semester student reach their frustration level early.  But how do you know when to wave a student off and when to tell them to go for it?  You have to know the student.  This means paying attention to every detail.  You have to be ready to receive the information available about students.  I'd tell you my gut said this student could handle it, but the whole truth is a little deeper.  I met this student a year earlier when they made an extra effort to come to a gallery event.  I saw them last spring in a Drawing class and paid attention to what they were drawing each time I passed the easel.  I noted the excitement in her eyes when she signed up for Sculpture.  All the signs were there.  

You also have to consider your experience.  I tell students "no" a good bit when they have crazy ideas.  I LOVE crazy ideas, but in the case of a public sculpture, I know there are rules and best practices to follow.  Having been in public sculpture for 20+ years, I know the thing isn't going to survive a drive to another location or that the glass is going to shatter or that the wind is going to blow it away.  

Last, and most judgmental, you have to be honest about the student.  If you've seen their work before, you just know.  If they work at a snail's pace on a good day, you have to tell them there's no way they'll finish the big idea, ever.  If they've struggled with quality and craftsmanship, you have to be honest about how it's going to turn out unless there's a huge change in behavior.  I'll also put an asterisk here and tell you I've had students surprise me and prove me wrong, but I'm always happy to be wrong in that situation.  

Last honest disclaimer:

The Impossible Bird is currently on display for all to see.  As we carried it up the stairs as gently as possible, the little legs cracked and popped with each step and each giggle.  One leg is currently bent under the weight of the bird and I would not be surprised if it broke from the passing of the hallway ghost late one night.  Still, it survived the installation and has already lived longer than any of us expected.  
 

our boogie shoes (a song reference for people my age)

Violet and I were invited down to the Edisto Blackwater Boogie again this year.  Her Fall Break aligned perfectly and there was no Cross Country meet on Saturday morning, so the timing was perfect.  I'm assuming you're interested if you're still reading.  Here are some photos and stories from that trip:

We were able to get up and leave Friday morning after my run and after enough breakfast to hold us until we could get to our favorite spot.  We drove straight into downtown Charleston and parked for free long enough to get our empanadas and Cuban coffees from CafeCito.  

We had to stop by Far Side vintage shop and while I love this Keith Haring Pop Shop shirt, I hope to never pay $100 for a tshirt.  (I used to say I'd never pay $30 for a tshirt, but look at concert tee prices now and you know I have a couple of concert shirts.)

This is my 3rd year doing live drawing at the EBB.  Remember that first year when we rolled up and saw that my tent was right beside the main stage and that literally EVERYONE could watch me draw?  Well, now I know what to expect so I was less freaked out.  We brought some swag to sell and got everything set up before the music started.  I regretted my procrastination on coming up with ideas while I sat in a chair and hoped the art gods would smile on me.  

We enjoyed the music all afternoon and the temperatures were so nice.  I brought a hoodie but forgot to pack long pants so I was afraid I'd get cold.  The fear kept me warm, apparently.  We were thrilled when Kennedy came to hang out.  We love Kennedy.  

I zone out when I'm in a drawing and I know the music is pumping in my ears, but I don't really hear it.  The music is great, but you wouldn't know it looking at my camera roll.  I was finished with the first drawing when Admiral Radio came out and I got to really hear them.  I even took a photo.  Violet and I met them a year or so ago and they are so nice.  I remember a lot of the music from year to year.  Last year there was an R&B band that I heard over all the noise in my head and thought it was great.  This year they were back and I made sure to note the name, Summer Royalty.  Dude sounds like Stevie Wonder.  It's great.  I talked to him after his set and he's also nice.  That's one of the many cool things about this music festival.  You have to be nice.  Dan knows all the great musicians, but he only invites the ones who are nice.  I love that.  

I was finished drawing by 7:30 and we had time to hang out and get some food.  Oh, we should talk about the food.  Last year there was an amazing doughnut truck.  We were devastated that they were not back this year.  But....the Fed Up food truck was back.  They've been a favorite every year.  I had the Hawaiian pig bowl and it was so delicious.  Violet gets to title the drawings.  After we ate and chilled a while, we headed out for the night.

The boogie puts me up at a hotel in Summerville.  This year we had an entire college football team in the hotel too.  They were nice and well-behaved.  I rode the elevator with one of the coaches on my way to run on Saturday morning.  I wished them luck.  I do love my running trail in Summerville.

We love to support the vendors but who can resist a gas station honey bun?  Every time I'm in Summerville and it's morning, I have to go to Coastal Coffee for coffee and breakfast.  We saw Danielle and this beautiful young lady took our order.  I got my bagel to go and we stopped for water and snacks before arriving at the state park again.  I stopped drawing long enough to refuel with the honey bun.  Fun fact, turns out the young lady at the coffee shop had a brush with fame during quarantine and her mom is a famous HGTV person.  Violet and I discussed how some people just have a spark that you can see.  Interesting.  

So, Dan puts this event on.  Jana, his wife, is amazing too, and takes the weekend to help out.  Their kids Oscar and Forest are always around, and this year Forest was driving an official golf cart around, ferrying people from place to place.  She stopped long enough to put on the duck costume and dance in front of the stage a while.  Then she carried a bucket around taking donations for WNC hurricane relief and raised over $1,000 in just a few minutes.  I love them all.

This is what's happening behind me while I draw.  People are hanging out, listening to music and having a good time.  They get up and walk around the tents and many of them say nice things to me as I work.  

This is the view from where they are.  My tent is just to the left of the main stage.  The sky was blue, the temperatures were perfect and the moon was full.  Violet and I had time to do a few laps after I finished the last drawing.

We also got to walk down to the river.  

It was beautiful.

We hung out a while again and enjoyed the music.  My legs were sore from holding myself in odd positions to draw lines and I was very tired from not sleeping much the night before.  We said our goodbyes and packed up.  Soon we were at Page's Okra Grill in Summerville for our treats.  We were tired and we smelled like campfires, but we feasted and had a fun waiter at the counter.  Oh, more food, Violet loves Crumbl cookies.  She said she deserved another treat for slinging merch and making me some money.  I gave in and we got a couple of those giant cookies before heading back to the hotel.  I'm just not a fan.  It's a weird tasting cookie.  Judge me if you will.  

The next morning Violet needed to run with me, so we got up and ran all along Sigma Drive which is apparently funny because some kids say "what the sigma" all the time.  I don't understand it, but I know the importance of a photo.  

More food again....have you heard of Cane's?  I think it's technically "Raising Cane's Chicken Fingers" or something.  Everyone in the family love it except me.  The closest one to us is usually Summerville so anytime we're near, they scream for it.  This is what Violet wanted for breakfast so we drove there before heading home with some to-go chicken for G.  If you're concerned about my contrary ideas about some foods, I would be all about Cane's if they had BBQ sauce.  If you don't serve BBQ sauce, don't look at me.  We can't be friends.  

There's no photo but there was a big, delicious nap for me when I got home.  

the hurrication

In August 1989, Hurricane Hugo smashed into South Carolina like a freight train.  It rolled into historic Charleston and quickly scooted right up the middle of the state overnight.  About 250 miles from the coast, I hoped school would be canceled, but also knew that in those days, they didn’t cancel school.  With Hugo, they did call off school for one day because of the wild damage in our area.  I was a senior in high school and that was the first hurricane I even recall making the news.  I know hurricanes were a thing prior to that day, but I had other things on my mind, apparently.

On September 26, about 3 weeks ago, Hurricane Helene was knocking on the coastal door of Florida’s gulf coast.  In the years since my senior year in high school, I’ve gotten used to living in the cone of uncertainty.  Hurricanes get future-mapped and either from the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic, my part of South Carolina gets forecasted for some wind and heavy rains.  We’re used to it.  We do not prep for these storms as they either fizzle out quickly and we get sunny skies and a light breeze, or it just rains for a few days and we go about our business.  As it rained all day that Thursday, September 26, we attended classes as usual and got updates about K-12 schools closing for Friday.  

Schools close if a bluebird sneezes these days, so that wasn’t a big deal.  A little later, our university announced they’d be closing for Friday as well.  This was good news to Blue, who came by to tell me he was probably going to leave soon and go home for what was now a long weekend.  I was happy about this because it meant I’d get to watch South Park that night with Blue and Violet.  Our TV nights have been cut down since Blue went off to school.  I hung out in the studio a while talking to students after class and by the time I got home, Blue was already there.

The three of us watched South Park and then spent a little extra time watching silly things on YouTube because none of us had to be up early.  Or so we thought.  After the kids went upstairs, I worked on a drawing until after midnight.  Just before bed, I checked on the hurricane and noticed a big shift in the forecasted path of the storm.  A shift that moved us more into the center of the cone of less uncertainty.  I briefly wondered if we might lose power and wondered if I should have stopped on the way home and picked up some water, gas and groceries.  But surely not.  I mean, this is a Florida hurricane.  These never impact us.  I went to sleep.

Most of us woke up a few times overnight to the sound of wind battering the house.  Around 5 am, I woke again to the sound of the power going out.  I tried to sleep more but I kept hearing what sounded like things hitting the house.  Loud things.  

As the wind got even stronger and louder, I decided it was a good time to get up and see what was going on.  I looked out and saw sideways rain, limbs down all over the yard and field, and saw a few pieces of the house blowing around in the yard.  I walked out onto the front porch to take down the swing and hammock and in the few minutes I was there, I was soaked by the sideways rain.  Since I was wet, I decided to walk around the house and survey the damage.  More of the house was being peeled off and flying around.  Several things had blown into the woods.  Several huge trees were down in the woods.  Nothing emergent, so I went inside, changed into dry clothes and had some French press coffee while we watched the two new rivers run across our property.  

It had rained all day on Thursday and there were several new inches of rain since midnight.  Our immediate area is not flood prone, so we were not worried about water unless it started coming in the roof.  Luckily it didn’t and we don’t have any large trees close enough to the house to make us worry about that.  For the next couple of hours, I moved from window to window looking out.  Trees would fall.  Things would blow by.  All I could do was watch it happen.  

Ralph the hummingbird riding the feeder during the height of the storm

The winds calmed when the center of the storm moved over our area.  During this time, my thoughts turned to the power situation.  In the 14 years we’ve lived here, we’ve only had good luck with power outages around us.  In the worst snow/ice storm, we never lost power for more than a few hours.  We have a tiny generator but we’ve literally never needed to take it out of the box.  Just to be safe, we do keep some emergency water for drinking, cooking and washing hands.  We have a well, so when the power goes out, we do not have running water.  Again, we’ve only used that emergency stash once in winter and even then, only about one gallon before the power came back on.  

The winds came back full force and I wondered if this might be a longer power outage.  More trees fell and I started to imagine how many trees might be down in our area, trashing power lines and falling on homes.  Text messages started coming in slowly indicating people we knew had trees on their homes and lots of people were without power.  

I started planning as much as possible.  It was still raining steadily as the winds started to die down.  I put on my running clothes and decided to run now in the rain before it got too hot.  I would also get a shower at the same time.  The winds gusted a bit while I ran, but the run was basically uneventful.  I washed off in one of the clear rivers of water rushing across the yard and wiped down before going inside.  

One of many big trees down in the woods behind our house.

Blue was up most of the night and decided to go back to bed when the winds calmed.  Violet and I went out and cleared the limbs out of the yard and picked up shingles and other things that had blown around.  We were going to need a new roof and some roof flashing, but otherwise, we had escaped damage to the house and cars.  

Back inside, we could cook with our gas stovetop, but water was now a limited resource and we needed to keep the refrigerator and freezer closed as much as possible.  News from outside had stopped with no power to run the internet and our cell service was all but non-existent.  We had no idea how pleasant this was at the moment.  We had no idea how bad it was in areas very close to us.  With the curtains open, we used natural light to do the things we could do.  We read and napped.  Time went by pretty slowly.  By nightfall, we were bored out of our minds.  Not enough light to draw or read.  Barely enough to play a few board games.  We cooked some of the meat in the fridge that was already warming up.  We were sort of glamping.

On Saturday, I rinsed off in a bucket after running and decided to skip coffee.  Who knew how long we’d be without power, so I opted to save water wherever I could.  G found a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle and we dumped it out on the dining room table.  We worked on that a while before venturing out in the car to see what kind of condition the roads were in.  We were scheduled to be in Charleston that weekend for a big cross country meet but the school canceled the trip.  The family still wanted to go and now there was the promise of power out of town.  I knew someone would have to stay with the dog, so I didn’t get my hopes up for any showers for me.  The major highway was being cleared but so many large trees were down across the road.  Many side roads were still blocked.  There was no power anywhere, not even in town and all the stores were closed.  We went back home to the puzzle.

The freakin' puzzle.

I’m a bit crazy when it comes to jigsaw puzzles.  If I make the mistake of becoming invested in it, I can’t do anything else until the puzzle is finished.  I see puzzle pieces when I close my eyes to sleep.  This one was a Keith Haring puzzle so I was invested.  I had just finished a drawing and couldn’t start on a new one until I had power for a saw.  No phone, no internet.  This puzzle was now my life.  As I turned my focus to it more fully, the family packed a couple of bags and promised to restock water, gas and groceries while they drove out of the damage zone.  

Progress.

I honestly don’t remember much about the second half of Saturday.  I was in the puzzle.  I took Timmy out a few times and just before dark, I stopped puzzling long enough to cook the last of the thawing meat in the fridge.  I also made some really nice sweet potato chips and burned my finger in the hot oil.  I let my car charge my phone and running watch while I cooked.  When the light dimmed in the windows, I settled in for what I knew would be a long, boring night.  I lit all the candles and had enough light to play several hands of Solitaire, though I struggled to see the difference between the red cards and the black cards.  At 8:30pm, I was in the middle of a hand and not doing well when there was a pop and the power came back on.  

My very impressive burn from the hot oil.

Here's where my story is different from almost everyone else’s that I know.  I was only without power for two days.  

I was shocked but I jumped up and started thinking as fast as I could.  I rushed to do all the things I thought were most important, refilling water jugs, washing dishes, taking a hot shower and charging everything I could find.  I knew there was a good chance the power might go away again, so I worked quickly.  Cell service was still out but the internet was now working fine.  After a shower and doing everything I could think to do as a precaution, I finished my hand of Solitaire (I lost) and I tried the TV.  Netflix came right up and I had been waiting to watch the new Will Ferrell documentary, so my plans for the night had just changed for the better.  Timmy and I enjoyed artificial light and the documentary before bed while the house cooled down as the air conditioner mercifully ran on high.  

The power did go out and come back on about 5 times during the night, but once morning dawned, our power was steady.  The grocery stores in town were closed so I was still depending on the family to bring back supplies.  Here in the South, when a weather person whispers the word “snow”, milk and bread immediately disappear from all grocery shelves.  We had already heard that the stores that could open had long lines, were cash only and were only allowing a few customers in at a time.  I had no desire to be in that mess.  I cleaned out the fridge and worked outside cutting grass and cleaning up the yard more.  I also worked on that freaking puzzle when I ran the mower out of gas.  When the family returned, I had just enough time to refill the gas and finish the grass before dark.  We got to have another TV night and then I puzzled until 1am.  I had most of it done at this point but I needed to sleep.

So many plain white pieces.

We got more updates from around the area now that we had internet access.  This was when we learned just how bad it was around us.  Asheville, just an hour away, was a horror show.  All of the towns near us had extensive damage.  The university canceled classes for a few days and we were told it would likely be all week.  We checked on people and offered help, feeling a little guilty that we had power when so many around us were looking at another week or so before power would be restored.  G works from home and with the internet working, she only missed the Friday of the storm.  The rest of us settled in for a week of slightly odd vacation.  A vacation that could begin right after I spent the morning finishing that ridiculous puzzle.

No, we never found the missing piece.

I’ll repeat, my story differs from most in our area.  We were very lucky to have power and to not have to worry about getting food, water and keeping our batteries charged.  Area officials asked people to stay home and off the roads so I decided the best way I could contribute to society during this time was to make the most of my studio time.  I immediately started on a new drawing and had it finished in a couple of days with so much dedicated time.  As soon as it was photographed and titled, I was outside cutting a new piece of wood for the next one.  This was a very good, very productive time for me.  

Violet’s school was canceled for the week.  She still had to go to cross country practices in the evenings, but this was like a short little summer week of sleeping late and making a leisurely breakfast each morning for her.  Blue was not only out for the week, but students who had stayed on campus were asked to leave if possible due to campus-wide power outages.  He also enjoyed the staying up late and sleeping in.  Not only did we have everyone home, but we also got to have our South Park and YouTube time together almost every night.  

In 3 weeks, you’re going to have to get some groceries.  Cross country practice is in a neighboring county and since it wasn't has hard hit, we managed to get some things before a practice and bring them home.  When it was time for milk and other refrigerated items, I needed to pick up a sculpture from yet another county 2 hours away, so I took the ice chest and stocked up while I was out.  

When the second week began, it looked like Violet would be returning to school but Blue and I were still uncertain.  Violet had another Monday off before returning to regular schedule.  Blue and I returned to virtual learning that Thursday and Friday which meant very little for us, really.  He had a few assignments and had those done early.  I did have to rework a lot of my plan for the month in my classes and answer several emails from students, but doing all that from home still allowed me to keep drawing and keep going to cross country practices.  Blue went with us to a few practices and a meet.  We even got Blue to watch a movie with us.

Over the course of the last few weeks, we had some moments of worry about our immediate needs, but we mostly had the luxury of feeling safe and comfortable.  Many of our friends were without power for 10-12 days.  Our time turned into a hurrication when we were mostly stuck at home with all our needs met.  It was a treat to have an extended fall break with the kids and to have everyone safe and healthy.  It was great to get so much creative work done at home and to get some good rest.  I did, however, miss my students.  We were just getting into the swing of things in the sculpture studio and many students were making real progress.  It will be a bit of a bummer to start going to bed at a reasonable hour and start getting up in the dark again, but I’m excited to get back to my students and all the school things I’ve missed.  

A few related but not featured items:  Drawing all day allowed me the freedom to watch a few movies at night.  If you're interested in that information, you'll have to talk to me.  I also got to see the Northern lights, albeit through a phone camera, for the second time this year.  There was also the comet but it was quite unspectacular from my view.  I got to go to several XC practices and a meet that I would normally have to miss.  Violet got "girls runner of the meet" at one of them.  And, I got to hang out with Emily and Katherine on my trip out of town.  I'm also happy to talk to you about the documentary.  

bffl

Zeke was excited as we drove toward the mountains.  He was my hiking buddy and he loved riding in the back of my SUV.  He had the whole back to himself and he was surrounded by windows.  He loved windows.  We arrived at the state park and found the line of cars backed up well outside the gate.  The park ranger walked back towards our group of cars and told us that our large group would be a lot better off at Table Rock State Park, just up the road.  When he told us it would be several hours before we made it to the gate of this park, we all made U-turns and met at Table Rock.  Zeke didn’t mind and I’m sure it all smelled the same to him, but when we reached the summit, I realized that I had signed Zeke up for a 3 mile hike at the other park.  Our change in plans resulted in a change in distance and elevation and poor Zeke was now at the midpoint of a 7 mile hike.  He seemed to have a wonderful time but as soon as he was back in the car, he slept all the way home.  That night, I noticed he had walked blisters on his paws and never let on that he wasn’t having the time of his life.  

14 years ago, we moved into the middle of nowhere on a few acres of land where you couldn’t see any neighboring houses.  We joked that when you move out here, they take away your turn signals and issue you a white labrador as a pet.  A joke based on observation of real life at the time.  So I stopped signaling my turns and we found white lab rescue puppies advertised in some online thing.  

The adoption was a story in and of itself, but I don’t want to embarrass or make fun of the strange lady who seemed to be in charge of a small, unregulated zoo and yet didn’t actually have the puppies when we arrived for our appointment.  After what seemed an eternity of walking awkwardly around the zoo, an old van pulled into the driveway and the doors burst open with a litter of the most precious white labs you’ve ever seen.  The most precious of all, of course, was the one who waddled over to me for belly rubs.  Everyone loved him immediately and after another small eternity of waiting and a bit of confusing paperwork, we drove home with our new dog.  

We debated names for a while before agreeing on Zeke, a name that was appropriately taken from an old Far Side cartoon.  The idea was for Zeke to patrol our acreage and live outside while protecting us from whatever lived in the woods at night.  He would be our faithful outside dog, sleeping on the porch and rushing to walk by our side every time we went outside.  Zeke had other plans.  

We noticed he was quirky for a tough, country dog.  He hated loud noises and wasn’t very fond of humans, aside from us.  Strangers made him cower or run away.  Loud noises sent him running for cover and sometimes peeing a little.  We, however, were in love with our beautiful dog.  He, however, was in love with the outside dogs who lived at the next house over.  

His friends next door were labs too and they took up like long lost friends.  Basically, he would come home to eat and that was the only time we saw him for a few months.  If we were lucky, we’d catch a glimpse of his gang running through the woods.  We knew he still liked us, though, when he proudly brought me the entire leg of an adult deer.  

Good times don’t last forever.  As the least experienced of the dog gang, I suspect he got peer pressured into going one-on-one with a skunk and you can imagine how that went for Zeke.  We got an angry message from the neighbor lady after she found a skunky, rain soaked Zeke sleeping on her outdoor furniture cushion.  It was time to buy a new cushion and for Zeke to unjoin the gang.  

Years earlier, we had to put a dog on a chain in a neighborhood and I was definitely not doing that again.  We tried the invisible fence for Zeke, but even on the highest setting, labs are smarter than the electricity.  We gave Zeke many, many baths, some in tomato juice (which was a myth busted) and when he no longer smelled like the butt of a skunk, we moved him inside.

Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed on the furniture.  Ok, maybe he can be on the chair, but definitely not the couch.  Ok, this is Zeke’s house now and we appreciate him allowing us to live in it.  That was pretty much the week-long progression and I can’t lie, we all loved it.  Zeke made this house a comfortable, safe place for all of us.  He patrolled the windows between naps and barked viciously when anything looked out of place.  Heaven forbid a package be delivered by the evil, probably going to kill us all, delivery person.  Just as long as the evil delivery didn’t fall during one of Zeke’s many nap times.  

The first year of Zeke taking over the house, we had one of the first Summer Studio Sales.  Neither of our devil-dogs responded well to people so they needed to go upstairs for the day.  Zeke, the big, strong dog, was terrified of the stairs and had never been upstairs.  That morning, I grabbed the 80 pound gentle giant and carried him upstairs while he shook in terror.  He definitely thought I was taking him to Hell.  Eight hours later, it was time to come back down.  He was wise to my tricks and resisted a bit more.  This time he wriggled himself into a weird, belly up position in my arms as I carefully walked down the stairs, trying not to fall and kill us both.  Around the second step down, our hero Zeke began peeing out of sheer terror.  His urine arched upward and hit the wall as laughter erupted from below where a group quickly gathered to watch the spectacle.  There was nothing to do but keep descending while he just kept peeing.  I managed to keep my footing amid the yellow waterfall that used to be our stairs and poor Zeke hit the carpet and ran and hid inside his crate for hours.

There was the time his collar broke on a hike and he ran free near a dangerous waterfall.  Another time he panicked when we passed a group of loud cub scouts on a hike and he squeezed his big head out of the leash.  He ran from the kids way up into the woods while I chased behind him only to find him lying down in a patch of poison ivy 10 minutes later.  But mostly, Zeke’s new indoor life at home was calm and uneventful.  He claimed the couch and you were welcome to sit on the other end if you behaved.

The boy loved his food.  And your food too.  We lost a lot of our food to the very attentive Zeke.  We learned that you don’t sit your full plate on the dining room table and go back into the kitchen for a napkin or you’ll come back to an empty plate.  We learned that you don’t leave Halloween candy sitting less than 4 feet off the ground.  Apparently chocolate doesn’t actually kill dogs.  We can attest, at least, that a full bag of Hershey’s kisses will not kill an 80 pound lab.  It will decorate the yard in silver foil a few days later.

And remember when Kennedy and Alayna dogsat and didn’t know to put the leash on the dogs when they let them out at night?  And then Zeke ran through the woods and eventually started doing laps around the house while they chased him frantically in the dark?

Oh, and the time he ate some smiley face stickers and then accidentally created the funniest dog poop with a face emoji sticker on it in the grass.

It’s just that Zeke’s greatest hits were actually his quietest gifts.  Like when it was 11:30 pm on Christmas Eve and he would sit with me on the couch, staring at the tree while I drank hot tea.  Or when the kids were sick and he’d shift his head to rest on their arm.  Or literally every single time you walked downstairs and he got up and wagged his tail and walked over to see what you were doing because you had been in that hellish, upstairs place.  Like when he’d follow you into every room and stand at the window watching you when you walked outside.  Or when you were sitting quietly and he’d walk over and put his nose under your hand so you’d pet him.  Or how he’d sit contentedly on the front porch beside you and try to stare out at whatever you were staring at.  Slow weekend breakfast chills when he’d just lie beside you while you drank coffee or how he’d stare out the front window at the sunrise.  

He was constant.  He was content.  He was a great TV watching partner.  I told him all about my frustrations and we watched a lot of stand-up comedy together.  He didn’t want anything from you except your presence.  If you had the best day and won an award, he was happy to see you.  If you had a terrible day and wanted to punch someone, he was happy to see you.  He didn’t know what happened outside of the house and he really didn’t need to know.  You were home now and he could be with you.  We could learn a lot from Zeke.  

The average lifespan of a labrador retriever is 10-12 years.  When year 14 started for Zeke, he was still happy to grab a toy and chase you around the house.  He would bound out the door and run with joy to find a spot to do his business.  We knew we were on borrowed time and as he quicky slowed down and started to feel his age, we did our best to give him the same gift he gave us, presence.  As his body failed him, we would take our turns lying on the floor beside him.  We’d sit and rub his belly or pet his head.  We couldn’t help him but we could be with him.  That turned out to be a gift to us as well.  

I walked down the stairs this morning for my pre-dawn run and when I leaned forward to look for Zeke on the couch or in the floor, for the first time in 14 years, Zeke wasn’t there.  His presence was gone.  He wasn’t there waiting for me to come back in after the run.  The living room is now too big, too empty.  Zeke-less.

Tonight I’m sitting on Zeke’s couch drinking my tea alone, grateful for 14 years of fond memories of the best dog.  Sweet dreams, Zeke.

WWTD?

Violet and I just finished Ted Lasso.  She missed most of the first season because she thought it was about soccer.  Then, after she lingered a bit too long downstairs before going to bed, she got sucked into the warmth and humor of the show as I watched an episode and she decided I could no longer watch it without her.  

This was my second viewing of the entire series and I would probably watch it again right now.  There’s something magical and attractive about this story and I think it goes a bit deeper than good writing, acting and humor.  I think Ted Lasso pulls at a string connected to every human’s heart.  

I first heard about the character on Instagram when friends were posting clips of the show.  I don’t watch a lot of TV and it’s easy for me to ignore these references but when I saw a clip of the main character throwing darts in a pub, the dialog got me.  This was when I discovered that we somehow had Apple TV and I started the series that night.  

So if you also thought it was a show about sports and ignored the social media hype for a few years, let me summarize it for you.  This really good guy takes a job he is likely not qualified to do and allows his love for others and his belief that people can be good to guide him through his own personal and career ups and downs.  It is a show about belief, forgiveness and love and yet it is not a show that mentions a religion or God in any meaningful way.  

I come from a Southern and Christian background.  For those of you not from here, the South (capital letter S) is a soup of a lot of different things that are all bathed in this broth of Christianity and humidity.   There’s a church (often literally) on every street corner and everyone seems to have some relationship to a church.  Grandma went there even if you didn’t.  Maybe you go on Easter and Christmas.  Maybe you attend regularly.  Maybe you can’t remember the last time you were inside a church but you’ll still put a check mark in the box beside “christian” any time you get a survey.  The weird thing about growing up in the South is that you’re just kind of assumed to be Christian.  Even when you are not religious at all, you grew up in that broth and you still identify with Christianity in some weird way.  

This is problematic for people who live here who actually do believe in and attempt to follow the teachings of Christ.  Mostly because the “culture of Christianity” and the actual ideology of Christianity are in such opposition to one another.

When I became an adult who was capable of thinking for himself, one of the first things I did was come to terms with what I had been taught in church for 20+ years and what I actually believed to be the teachings of Jesus.  Realizing that in many cases, these were two very different things, put me on a road that led to being an outsider in any local southern church.  

If you’ve only been paying attention to the current political situation for a few weeks, that’s long enough to know exactly what I’m talking about.  There are people who say they are “Christians” who are looking to control the government and hoping to pass laws that reflect what they think is representative of their religious beliefs.  You can watch a person who says they want Christian values vote to restrict the basic rights of other humans.  They may support laws that restrict or punish immigrants, they may support laws that restrict the rights of women and you may even see them vote to end supplying free food at school for poverty stricken children.  

Anyone who has looked at a New Testament even briefly will recognize Jesus’ teachings on how to treat the alien (immigrant) the women (Mary, Mary Magdalene, Martha, etc) and the poor and how these politicians are standing in direct opposition to those teachings.  

My first viewing of Ted Lasso had me on Google within a couple of episodes.  I was curious about the narrative and why it so closely matched the core of Christian beliefs.  I thought I might find that there was some intentional connection to Christianity but what I found instead was a host of blogs and articles written by “Christians” blasting Ted Lasso for not having more direct references to God or Jesus.  One called it “a Christ-less Gospel” and meant that in a very negative way.  I was surprised to find that Christians couldn’t be happy that such a great message of forgiveness and love was so popular and well received.  Instead, they were looking for fault, trying to tear down something that offered such hope and love to viewers.  

And then I realized, that’s what so many from the “culture of Christianity” want to do.  If it’s not their preferred version of the “truth”, they will attack it and try to kill it.  Their assumption that they subscribe to the only true version of religion means that everyone else is wrong (and probably going to hell).  

After a second viewing of the entire series, I think there’s something more going on.  

The “culture of Christianity” in my definition includes modern Christian churches along with many “church adjacent” people.  While their beliefs may vary on a personal level, they’ve all adopted a modern, American version of the Gospel of Jesus.  In this updated version of the Gospel, they play the part of “God’s chosen people” and they mix it with a hefty dose of “prosperity Gospel”.  All the scriptural references that suggest God will bless them are framed, stuck on their SUVs and tattooed on their ribcages.  Every scriptural reference that suggests a curse if you do not follow God’s laws is completely ignored.  Jesus is portrayed as a white, Republican, American man who wants gas prices to remain low, interest rates to be lowered and all of his followers to live in gloriously large homes while collecting their wealth.  In this narrative, the “Christian” living in the $500,000+ home with a successful career, multiple vehicles and a retirement plan also gets to play the part of the afflicted and oppressed.  They are the victim, the "persecuted" and anyone who doesn’t agree with them is the evil oppressor.  

One of the many flaws in this false narrative is that in order to believe this version, you must discard the complete teachings of Jesus.  I would also argue that based on correct cultural context, you would also have to discard all of the Old Testament scriptures as well.  I would also suggest that to believe this false narrative, you would also need to keep one eye closed at all times, figuratively speaking.  Sure, your church will ask you to give a tithe and perhaps an offering and the open eye allows you to give while the closed eye prevents you from seeing exactly where that money goes.  The church building, for example may be built off of a few million dollars worth of tithing while homeless people hanging out in the parking lot are asked to leave and no longer trespass on church property.  And yes, this is a real example from a real church in my area.  The money given to the church creates a very comfortable life for the ministers on staff, complete with housing allowances, annuity, vehicle allowances and a salary with more digits than yours.  Of course, career professionals should be paid, I just can’t imagine someone whose job it is to dwell on and teach from a text that continually suggests sacrificial giving to the poor and less fortunate would sleep well at night if they truly analyzed their financial situation.

Now, I realize you can’t just have unchecked vagrants coming and going in a social environment where kids are present.  I’m not saying we shouldn’t pay a pastor.  I’m not advocating for that at all.  I do think it’s odd that we’ve learned to close an eye to any way of helping the people closest to us who are in real need, while making sure to raise enough money to send a group off to a distant land to build a house or to build our own magnificent facility to be used a couple of days each week.  Why send groups away to “serve the poor” when you have a problem with the poor on your literal doorstep?  Why create a clean, dry space to remain empty 5 days a week when so many within walking distance long for such a space?

I could go on and on with examples, but you get the point.  

I know these people pretty well,  I’ve known them my whole life.  I understand why they would be threatened by a TV story that suggests that we can show love to the people in our lives in meaningful ways without committing our time and dollars to a local church.  I mean, if I were a church that had just taken out a loan of a few million dollars to build a building, I might look for ways to intentionally get more people to come to my church and give to my building fund.  I might get possessive about my church members and unconsciously look for ways to make my church look better or more “right” than the other churches in my area.  I might stop seeing all Christians as being on the same team and start to just hope that my team can help pay off this building debt.  

But we’re just talking about a TV show here, right?  Yeah.  So that Ted Lasso show….I recommend it.  Maybe watching it will put you on a path to think for yourself and reconsider some old, traditional beliefs.

end of summer musing

Summer has been nice, but I’m waking up to the fact that I’m in my last few days of break before shifting back into the busier teaching schedule.  Something about this transitional time of year puts my mind in a mood to reflect, particularly about teaching.

Before we get into that, let me give you a glimpse into my life as of the last few weeks.  After the sheer adventurous joy of the family vacation followed by 2 weeks in Europe, I came home and settled into staying up later and sleeping later.  I was drawing and sculpting and taking care of lots of art exhibit things, but I was also taking the time to stop working at night and sit around with the kids and the dogs while wasting a little bit of time watching things on screens.  We’d stay up late laughing at nonsense and going through all three seasons of Ted Lasso and then I’d sleep until 7:30 or 8:00 am, which is late for me but still early for the kids.  Blue moves into college in a little over a week.  This “wasting” of time is honestly more of a treasured necessity.  I’ve been loving our time together.

Several days each week, Violet and I have to be mindful of what we eat during the day because we know we’ll be running lots of miles at the evening cross country practices.  After practice we’ll treat ourselves to some ice cream or chocolate while sitting on the couch.  Then we wake up and repeat as needed.  

I, quite intentionally, do not think about school during the summer.  This is my hack for staying sane in the world of academia.  I answer all emails that come from students and colleagues, but I minimize that part of my life so that I will be ready to dedicate my time to it from August until May.  Generally, in the last couple of weeks of break, I’ll start thinking about my upcoming classes and responsibilities and I’ll update my syllabi and make some concrete plans for the year.  As I do this, the shadow of knowledge creeps in and I’m reminded that when classes begin, I’ll be setting that 5:00 am alarm and running in the dark again.  Meh.

I suppose any teacher worth their salt must spend some time reflecting on last year in order to properly prepare for the year ahead.  I’ll be honest, my morning runs for much of the summer were filled with conversations with myself about frustrations and disappointments from last year.  That running therapy has helped and my attitude has turned to a more positive outlook.  My morning runs are now filled with thoughts about the students on my rosters for this year and how I’m going to engage with them through specific projects and assignments.  

One of the things I started learning about my students a few years ago was that I can’t control their actions.  I may have even written about this here, but I can provide everything a student needs to be successful, but I can’t make them actually use that information and be successful.  They have to choose it.  They have to work for it.  It’s SOOOOOO frustrating to see a student with so much potential just waste the opportunities provided for them, but all the worrying in the world won’t make them change.  

As I started to get more comfortable with the fact that I can’t change student’s actions, I then needed to learn that I also can’t change the actions of others.  My peers, colleagues, friends and even my superiors in the chain of command, I can provide all the information and evidence I want, but they are essentially going to do what they are going to do regardless of what I think about it.  That’s hard to accept.  The control freak realizing he is not in control.  The horror.  

If I don’t accept it, the immediate downside is that I will feel undervalued.  I’ll feel that they aren’t listening to me and that my input doesn’t matter.  This may or may not be true in reality, but it’s also not the point.  Did I say what was true?  Did I say it to help?  If so, then I should move on with my life no matter what happens next.  

Perhaps my age and experience puts me in a different place than many in academia.  I didn’t go right into grad school and immediately begin a full time job in academia in my mid-twenties.  This is actually my 2nd life.  I didn’t start full time academic teaching until my late thirties.  Now I’m 52 and 15 years into full time teaching.  Perhaps this age and experience gives me a different perspective.  

Of course, I still take things personally for a while.  When I give my input and no one listens, I get angry.  Mostly, though, I get that anger worked out on my runs, alone.  Some days all I can see is how often in the past I have been right and how often others have been chronically wrong.  Luckily, I’m the only one who gets to hear how selfish and immature my feelings are.  Once I realize what I sound like, I can put on my big boy pants and move on.  I’m not in charge and I’m so glad I’m not.  I’m not an administrator, I’m a teacher.  

And dude, I LOVE teaching.  I’m definitely not in academia to be an administrator.  I’m not here for the meetings and the service assignments.  I’m not here for the “mandatory” training and the professional development classes.  I put up with those things because I love being in the studio with my students.  I love teaching my people.

So the things that happen and are decided that don’t suit me, if those things don’t directly affect me teaching my students as I please, then those things don’t really matter.  I can focus on being a positive influence, an encourager and a great teacher.  After all, the students aren’t in my class to hear my ideas about policy and the general direction of day to day inner workings of a university.  They’re there to learn to be artists who serve the world with love and kindness.  That will continue to be my focus.  

I’m almost ready to be excited for the semester.  It’s going to be fun!