Carmen’s Chatter

All the way from South Korea via the wonders of the Internet, Danielle Buckley Park, with her usual enthusiasm, has let me kindly know that she expects me to write regular blogs; therefore, I try to. She anticipates; therefore, I type.

Danielle Buckley Park is a graduate of Shorter who went on to earn an MFA in England at Exeter University. I always say that Danielle has a biological need to learn. You can imagine she was a joy to be in class with! All of her teachers at Shorter said that.

So, Danielle anticipates (regular blogs from her old, irregularly-inclined-to-blog teacher); therefore, I type this blog. This statement reminds me of “I think; therefore, I am,” an axiom that for all its celebrity philosophically has never thrilled me personally, perhaps because I usually think too much. By “thinking,” I mean “analyzing” and “worrying.” A very close friend has as much as said that, but gently.

I asked my friend Beth recently, “Do you often worry about lots of things?”

“Yes. It drives me crazy.”

“Do you think you analyze and worry as much as I do?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so.” She laughs.

“I didn’t think so. I hoped not.”

I put much of my attention towards prayer, especially through the ancient practice of lectio divina, steeping meditatively in a verse from the Bible, so why hasn’t “I pray constantly; therefore, I am happy” replaced “I worry a lot; therefore, I stress out constantly.”

Perhaps because I don’t pray constantly. I know many think that’s just a half-hearted verse in 1 Thessalonians, but I took it seriously years ago when I first read it in college, and it’s been my profoundest soul-searching ever since.

I still have so much to learn about surrender, who is the loving heart of the universe, whom I know as a Person, Christ. I have always been a very slow learner, hard of hearing, blind of eye, stumbling of heart, even with those I love most.

When I was younger, before we knew what dyslexia was, I was also the kid who confused any “c” with any “s” and any “d” with any “b.” So I just felt stupid but tried harder at reading. The hours I put into learning how to read well were phenomenal. I have never felt “smart,” but I did eventually learn to read smoothly, with just the rarest “c” seen as an “s.” This overall less-than-speedy-quickness makes me thankful that God has given me an extra helping of stubborn diligence.

But diligence must be mixed with surrender in wise portions. That’s one reason I am thankful to be able to teach. This work shows me over and over that listening is more important than thinking. Isn’t “listening” another word for “surrendering”? And isn’t “listening” synonymous with “praying”?

I love the phrase “holy listening.” I’ll never forget the very holy-listening, Ph.D.’d nun who first explained “holy listening” to me at the International Medieval Congress at Western Michigan University, but, still, the “holy” before the “listening” almost seems redundant.

Isn’t genuine heart-felt listening always holy?

By “listening,” I mean that as a college professor I try very hard to know my audience, because every year the students get younger than I am! Well, I mean I grow older than they are and feel further removed from the ways of their minds and the concerns of their hearts. It’s astonishing how quickly this happens from season to season.

This gap-producing process is inexorable and always threatens my ability to hear my eighteen- to twenty-something- students, for each middle-aged year seems to deposit a thick, crusty layer of metaphorical wax on my interior ears.

I want to clean these out. How? I want very much to ask myself throughout every day: Am I listening to my students? Who are they? What are they anticipating from me? What are their likes, dislikes, worries, joys, and favorite colors? Where are they from? Where do they live? What are their fears? Who are their friends? What are their hopes for the class? What are their strengths? What are areas where they want to improve but worry they might fail? How can I best encourage them? What are their future plans?

I also ask myself: Where can I be mature but vulnerable in allowing them to see that I, too, worry about failing and do often fail, that I worry about revising and do often have to revise my writing and talks, that I worry often about just getting dressed in the morning but am happy to announce to them that my teenage daughter has taken over as my sartorial consultant, changing my wardrobe’s spectrum of light black clothing and dark black clothing to a wide rainbow of colors and a sudden dearth of denim.

Listening to my students takes me out of my well-worn groove in many ways. I could stretch out and relax comfortably in that mental hammock forever, growing boring around my edges and spilling out deafening yellow ear wax in amounts that would keep Shrek busy making candles.

Well, so, Danielle, thanks for being there and for always asking hard questions I can or cannot answer well. Thanks to all students who show up and trust me to partner with them in learning. I know learning is often scary.

Jesus is always saying, “Let those who have ears to hear, hear!” He knows that no matter how kind the teacher, real learning is always an upheaval of the best but still unnerving sort. When, for example, Christ said, “Love your enemies,” many who heard him said, “What! You’ve got to be kidding!” That statement causes an upheaval in me everytime I read it or say it to myself.

Thanks to every awesome student for making getting up in the morning the most wonderful blessing! Thanks for teaching me that listening and praying and learning and growing and loving are one activity, really!

This entry was posted on Friday, April 9th, 2010 at 8:34 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.