Not One to Impress

This past week I had my Qualifying Exam at USC. This is essentially a 15 page paper and an interview with a few faculty members. The Qualifying Exam is used  to weed out those who are finding the doctoral program isn't a good fit for them. At one point during my interview someone told me "Sometimes we send teachers to classrooms to see new things that are going on and when they come back they say 'Wow, that was amazing but I could never do that because she was just SO smart.' But with you it's different. People would never come away from your classroom feeling that way."

Questioning my intelligence, huh? In fairness she was referring to my tendency to make fun of myself at every turn. But still...

In that vein, here's a repost of a piece I wrote in 2010 poking fun at my lack of "braininess."

A few years ago I read this really wonderful book titled Other People's Words. In the book author and researcher Victoria Purcell-Gates spent two years working with an illiterate mother and her struggling son. Her goal was to come to better understand the cycle of illiteracy while helping this family to learn to read and write. Along the way she found that our society, as well as our educational system, often works to exclude the illerate. The parents of this child were unable to use public transportation, read labels on packages when shopping, or even help him with elementary school homework. Throw in the bulging sack of stereotypes this family, and especially their son, had to overcome at school and it was easy to see that the deck was stacked to all but ensure failure.

But this young boy was not alone. There were many, many more filling the seats of area classrooms. Together they comprised the group that consistently ranks lowest in terms of national education norms, have higher drop out and absence rates, and more commonly experience learning problems. Who are they? They are white, urban Appalachian children.

Over her two years Gates learned a lot. First, she learned that these families were not illiterate. Rather, they were low-literate. They relied heavily upon oral communication. Their heritage was rooted in oral stories and communication- to such a degree that print often had little use and and was of little importance. To help these children meant to first overcome cultural elitism and work to better understand the kids and their families.

One of the many things that Gates came to understand about these families was that while they struggled with print they were incredibly proficient in a variety of other areas. While their vast knowledge fell outside of what modern society seems to value most - being "book" smart or having a specialized area of expertise- they had learned the skills that were most valued within their culture; the skills that helped them to survive. For instance, they did not need to call a plumber to fix a leaky pipe, an electrician to install or repair wiring, or a mechanic to change the oil pan gasket. They were self-sufficient.

I thought of this recently when calling the Heating and Cooling guy out to check out our air conditioner. Tricia, the kids, and I had returned from our last trip of the summer to find that the second story AC was not working properly. Although air seemed to be coming out of the registers it definitely was not cold. The temperature on the thermostat rose and rose throughout the day. After topping out in the mid-eighties my mom took her PJs and fled for the comfort of the third floor while our friend, and housemate, Tim did the same, opting for the couch in the living room.

Being as close to immune to hot weather as two people can be, Tricia and I flipped on the overhead fan, threw open our bedroom windows, and found it rather comfortable. Still, despite having to dip into our savings,we were pleased to know that the AC guy would be showing up the next morning and that the unit would be fixed soon.

After a total of fourteen minutes spent looking at the thermostat, playing with the circuit breakers, and looking at the unit on the side of the house, he declared the air conditioner in good working condition again. As he made out the bill I asked him what the problem was. Keeping a straight face, which seems in retrospect that it must have been hard to do, he explained that there was a bad storm while we were gone and that one of the circuit breakers had tripped. As he handed me the bill I looked down and saw that I was preparing to pay in excess of $100 so that he could walk into the garage and flip a switch back to the "on" position.

I'd like to say this was my first time paying for a ridiculously easy fix. Heck, I'd like to say it was the first time I had paid someone to flip a circuit breaker back on. But it wasn't.

And I ask myself...should we, as a society, redefine smart?

Frozen by the Fear of Failure

I came across this question last week when Tricia and I were visiting studios in Asheville's River Arts District:

"What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?"

I really like this. This question challenges you to consider what you'd like to do or to learn and then evaluate why exactly you're not already doing it. Going back to school.  Asking someone out on a date. Changing jobs. Speaking out against the crowd.

Who's willing to admit they're afraid of failure? Well, probably a lot of people.

When kids are really, really young they think they're good at everything. They're never afraid of failure because they see success in all they do. We, as adults, encourage this with our constant praise. Yet at some point children learn they are not so good as they thought. They receive their first few doses of criticism and then begin comparing themselves to others. Slowly they adopt the belief that things are fixed - they're either this or they're that. Of course, for many feeling as though they are good at something comes from being able to do it easily with little struggle. This is why Muluken has so much confidence in himself as a baseball player. He was good almost right away. The same is true with Ty and gymnastics, and Ainsley and Harper with reading On the flip side, there are things that each of them feel they are terrible at only because success doesn't come as quickly or as easily. But should that even be an expectation?

As we were walking through the studios I came across a small card one of the artists had put out on a table. It explained that when you pay for one piece of art you are really paying for the many, many others that did not come out so well. The failures. The notion that artists churn out piece after piece without failure is a misconception. A few years ago my class had a singer songwriter come in and speak with us about the process of writing a song. She explained that she had written well more than a hundred songs and from those only eleven or twelve actually made it onto her CD. Missteps and failures are to be expected. At least by those who are not crippled by them.

So, what would I attempt if I knew I could not fail? If I were assured of succeeding?

* I'd practice a lot more with my guitar. I long ago hit what I felt was a plateau and stopped trying to get any better. Over time I've actually grown worse.

* I'd sing more. There's a small range of notes I can sing. It's the many others that befuddle me.

* I'd write a book. Not a teacher one (I think I could already accomplish that if I had the time). No, I'd write one that tells a story. A dark story where the character you love most dies at the end.

* I'd build a detached garage outside our house all by myself.

* Maybe I'd start a summer foundation that takes kids into the woods to hike, swim, look at plants and animals. Oh, and throw rocks at distant trees.

* Be more willing to offer my opinion in certain situations.

I assume the point of the question is that anything you list is something you should, therefore, do. But, no pressure.