by Liz | Aug 11, 2011 | main
In Alabama, the new school year is starting. In the US, those of us who work in education or are closely related to those who do, are surely aware of No Child Left Behind. Sounds like a good idea on the surface. But, the guidelines seem to reflect Garrison Keillor’s claim about lake Woebegon: “… and all the children are above average.” Something about the concept of average got lost. To have be average means that something is above (higher, better, a bigger number) you and something is below (lower, not as good, smaller number) you… or that everything is exactly the same, with nothing outstanding at all. Not gonna work, if I understand the requirements. If you get everyone up to what was the average when you started, and some move beyond, then average is higher.
Don’t get me wrong here — I want every child to be able to develop to her/his own potential. I do want some recognition that each child’s potential can be quite different.
So, what happens? Too often, teachers find that they must “Teach to the test.” Teach only those things that someone has decreed to be essential, because if any child can’t master this enough to fill in the proper circle on the page, then the entire year is a failure. Leaves little room for preparing those kids to think, to experiment, to learn even more (or less) than the prescribed lesson.
It seems rather like church. I didn’t grow up a Catholic, but even I can start to give a Baltimore Catechism answer to Who is God? Why did God Make Us? It’s true that catechism (Baltimore or New) answers can give a starting point for exploring my own walk in faith. So often, it seems, rote answers are the end of this journey, not the beginning. The proper answer is what is expected. It is the test. The Church teaches to the Test, instead of leading people beyond or pointing people to the Source. I have a strong sense that Jesus wasn’t looking for everyone to be average.
Just thinking… that’s all.
by Liz | Aug 28, 2010 | main
Ten years ago, I was moving back into this house after a five month sojourn around town. The house had burned in March and we spent the spring and summer inhabiting interesting digs: a condo designed for folks who wanted a nice place close to campus for football weekends, followed by the summer in an apartment complex where is was us “old guys” and a bunch of male college sophomores. That was interesting. I was growing herbs (basil, rosmary, sage, etc) in a window basket. It took the neighbors weeks to get up the nerve to ask about the vegetation in the planter. I think that they were both disappointed and relieved to discover than these were for cooking, not for smoking.
Back to the house.
One of the really sweet things about this rebuilding was the fact that I picked paint colors, and someone else did the painting. What a concept. The coordinated colors went together well. They were on the walls for 10 years. But, in many respects and in many parts of the house, like the living room and hall, they were safe, neutral ginger cream off-white. That made things light (good thing), but not very inspiring. The intense color in the kitchen has been my favorite. And, that was the inspiration for the new paint. So, far, we have sage in the formerly pale living room which sets off the leather couches and the furniture (and the shiny white trim) in a way that I find comforting and inspiring. And the hall has more color, albeit something called Sand Motif.
So — how does this get to renewal? My understanding of a sacrament is that it is an outward (physical) sign of an interior grace (change/process). This new color scheme is a sign to me that somehow I have healed and grown and find myself more free to express this in an outward manner. I fussed over the colors. I studied the combination of colors. I got the quote from a long time friend and excellent painter. I was really concerned about how this living room (and other rooms) would look. This is a new wardrobe for my living space.
Yesterday, when I headed out to the gym, the walls were ginger cream. When I got back, the first coat of sage greeted me — and filled me with joy. I love it. I love the way things look. It affirmed that inner feeling in a visible way. Sacrament.
True, a new coat of paint can be just a cosmetic enhancement or it can reveal something that just needed to get out. This color change seems to be a bit like spring with new colors and new growth. In time, it will move to summer and fall and become just another part of the backdrop of life. I will grow accustomed to it and probably not think about it. It will become a part of the house. But for now, I’m enjoying the beginning of something new.
by Liz | Feb 4, 2010 | main, Reading List
I just finished Anne Rice’s Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt a couple of days ago. An interesting read. I’m not sure I would have derived the same story were I writing a fictional recollection of this period of the life of Jesus of Nazareth, but she does a wonderful job of giving insight into what it is like to begin to discover oneself… especially as a child. And especially as a child where people are reticent to give you some of the information.
It’s quite hard to explain — the best thing is to read it yourself and ponder how each of us learns who we are from within and without.
by Liz | Aug 26, 2009 | main
On my way in to work each morning I pull up to an intersection that causes me to face a line of not so very old trees. These trees were carefully planted a number of years ago and are nicely spaced so as to have plenty of room to grow without interference from neighboring trees. The one that is almost straight ahead is a beautifully shaped specimen — even, symmetrical, tall. Not constrained by other trees.
How unlike the trees in my backyard. The ones I planted from little seedlings and saplings. The white oaks that are too close together because each was an acorn with a leaf attached when planted. And planted a bit close because I wasn’t sure which, if any would survive and also because I didn’t have the vision to see the full grown tree. Same for the maples. And then, there is the McDonald’s pine tree brought home by a thrilled 3 year old and planted in a random spot.
My backyard trees are more like my life: They are lopsided because they crowd each other. They fight for the sunlight and the water and the nutrients. They form a solid cover over part of the yard. If one is removed, it is obvious that something has been taken away and it will take years to fill in the gap. Just like my life. All crammed in with people I love and ideas and responsibilities. When one of these is removed it’s pretty obvious. And it takes time to adapt and fill in the gap.
I’m not that perfect, symmetrical tree at the end of the street. I’m not an island. Some days, I wish I was. But, for today, I think it’s ok to be shaped by those around me — just as long as I can get enough sunlight and water and nutrients to hold up my spot.
by Liz | Jul 23, 2009 | main
Last night I decided to try to recast a webpage that someone had created in Flash into html/css. Now, if those terms mean nothing to you, don’t worry. Just know that it was a decontruction/reconstruction exercise. A brain stretch to look beyond the final appearance and discover different ways to divide the pieces and put them back using a different set of rules… only the goal is to have the end result to appear the same. Smoke and mirrors. A phone that looks like a rotary dial, but is in reality a touch tone.
The point being that I stretched my brain to look beyond the images on the page and re-evaluate how I saw them. I had to take a function that is most easily represented by plain, squared-off rectangles and make it pretty. Or, was it that I took something really pretty and complex and broke it into little functional boxes? In the end, I see it quite differently than I did before. I hope that when someone else sees it, that they will not see it differently. The viewer just needs to know that it works well.
In the end, I’m not totally sure that the way I went about the project is going to be an effective solution. But, the process was worthwhile. To borrow from the original author of the thing I was working on:
Brain stretching is never wasted– sometimes you end up applying what you learned to something totally different from what you thought you were working on!
Now, back to the journey (which, it seems is more important than reaching the final destination.)
