January 2016 – TROUBLE

What I am not giving

I’m working on a book project about my teaching life (past, present and future). Most of my processing for this is happening in a green notebook and on my story blog. Occasionally, like right now, I’m posting about it here.

What does a book about my teaching life in which I attempt to offer up some of my ideas about teaching and learning and living an undisciplined life look like? How do I structure it in ways that avoid offering “advice” as an “Expert”? How do I share insight and knowledge without being arrogant or didactic?

These questions haunt me as I reflect on what sort of teaching book I want to write–what can I offer? who am I writing it for? who cares? Lately I’ve found that constructing pithy lists is helpful for sorting out my ideas and engaging in conversations with the ghosts that haunt me. So I decided to make a list of what I’m NOT giving (or least trying not to give) when I’m offering up my ideas about teaching and being undisciplined.

I am NOT Giving…

Advice
Permission
a Lecture
a Sales Pitch

ASIDE: In addition to engaging with persistent questions about authority, expertise and being the Teacher, this list is also a direct response to a recent suggestion by Elizabeth Gilbert that she was the hall monitor, giving out permission slips to women who needed them to be creative (she’s said this in many different interviews. Here’s one source).

I meet people who want to be doing interesting and creative things and they’re stuck,” she says. “Women especially seem to feel they need a permission slip from the principal’s office before they’re allowed to do anything, and I’m so happy to just be constantly writing those permission slips for everybody.

I’m the hall monitor: You have a pass and you have a pass and you have a pass,” she says, handing out imaginary passes. I’m very happy to have that be my job, or one of my jobs.

Yuck. As a teacher/guide/mentor, I’m not interested in granting permission. Why reinforce the power structure of an Authority figure who must say it’s okay? Why have a hall monitor? I’m probably not being entirely fair (or generous) to Gilbert here. In my defense, I did listen to a lengthy interview with her and I tried really, really hard to be open to her ideas. Repeatedly I found that her arrogance creeped in to her comments even (or especially) when she was attempting to be humble.

If the above list indicates what I am NOT giving, what is it that I AM giving? Here are some preliminary thoughts:

I AM Giving…

an Account of a teacher/person/thinker/troublemaker who is passionate about education
Proof that other ways of being/engaging/teaching are possible (not always successful or recommended, but possible)
an Invitation to engage, experiment, resist and unlearn unhealthy habits

More on Gratitude

Tonight I decided to scroll through my tumblr site, Staying in Trouble. I haven’t posted on it for years. Maybe I’ll start again? Anyway, I found an image that I reblogged 3 years ago and was reminded of Barbara Ehrenreich’s article that I posted about a few days ago. She writes:

Saying grace to an abstract God is an evasion; there are crowds, whole communities of actual people, many of them with aching backs and tenuous finances, who made the meal possible.

What Do You Mean?

In a powerful post about microagressions and casual racism at the dinner table, Nicole Chung discusses her troubling and conflicted feelings about how to respond when a guest asks her a racist question while at a dinner party with mostly friends and family. After reflecting on what to do, she poses the question:

Do I really want to force all the people at this table to choose sides in the ultimately unwinnable “was or wasn’t it racist” debate?

Ultimately she decides to do nothing but shrug off the question. Her response haunts her:

When I think about the relative size and scope of microaggressions, I can’t help but feel ashamed of my inadequate responses. If these are just small offenses, not meant to wound, why can’t I ever manage to shut them down effectively, ensure they aren’t wielded again and again against others?

The comments to this post were almost all positive and supportive. Many included discussions of how they struggled with similar experiences or strategies for handling future racist questions and comments. I was particularly struck by Loren_Ipsum’s technique of persistently asking, “What Do you Mean?”:

I wanted to share one satisfying method I’ve found to dealing with them: say, politely, “What do you mean?” and repeat it as necessary. Because, eventually, the person will have to articulate aloud those asshole beliefs — all Asian people look the same, all women are inherently dumber, etc. — that they’d only implied before. And once they do that, it’s much easier for you (and others) to respond with “what on earth is wrong with you?” without seeming like the bad guy. Or the person will give up in frustration, and that’s a win too?

What do you mean? I like this question. I think I’ll add it to my list of questions that one should ask on a regular basis, along with Why? and At whose expense?

Early Morning Encounters

For the past year or so, I’ve gotten in the habit of getting up at 6:15 AM, before anyone else in my house is awake. I make my extra strong coffee and sit on the couch, scrolling through my facebook and twitter feeds. Usually I’m looking for something that sparks my curiosity and inspires me to get into a critically reflective (troubling/troubled) space. Somedays I don’t find anything. But usually, there’s at least one item to read, watch or listen to. Today, on my first day back from winter break, I found two things. I’ve decided to archive them here.

The Selfish Side of Gratitude

Barbara Ehrenreich. New York Times, Sunday Review. Ehrenreich is great. Over the years, I’ve really enjoyed her critiques of positive thinking. It’s difficult to pick out just a few passages from her brief essay to post here (it’s all good), but I was especially drawn to these two:

Gratitude to those who made your meal possible:

Yet there is a need for more gratitude, especially from those who have a roof over their heads and food on their table. Only it should be a more vigorous and inclusive sort of gratitude than what is being urged on us now. Who picked the lettuce in the fields, processed the standing rib roast, drove these products to the stores, stacked them on the supermarket shelves and, of course, prepared them and brought them to the table? Saying grace to an abstract God is an evasion; there are crowds, whole communities of actual people, many of them with aching backs and tenuous finances, who made the meal possible.

Not Gratitude but Solidarity:

The real challenge of gratitude lies in figuring out how to express our debt to them, whether through generous tips or, say, by supporting their demands for decent pay and better working conditions. But now we’re not talking about gratitude, we’re talking about a far more muscular impulse — and this is, to use the old-fashioned term, “solidarity” — which may involve getting up off the yoga mat.

Ehrenreich’s mention of debt reminds me of Eula Bliss and her discussion of White Debt in the NY Times last month.

The Unravelers

Stephanie Danler. Paris Review.

There are two kinds of women: those who knit and those who unravel. I am a great unraveler. I can undo years of careful stitching in fifteen gluttonous minutes. It isn’t even a decision, really. Once I see the loose thread, I am undone. It’s over before I have even asked myself the question: Do I actually want to destroy this?

I don’t unravel in the same way as the author, but I like thinking about my practices of undisciplining and unlearning as forms of unraveling bad habits and toxic/unhealthy narratives about myself and the world.