I have a picture on the desktop of my computer, which I see every time I open it. I frequently change the picture on my computer, so I am not sure how long this one will stay there. Normally, I will rotate pictures of my grandkids, so they are “with me” even when they are not around. I am sure all parents and grandparents understand this. Almost never do I have a picture of myself on my computer screen. And if I do, it is a picture of me with someone else whom I consider significant in my life. Of course, every picture is “worth a thousand words.” And every picture has its own story.
This picture currently on my screen is a group of students who were in a class I have just finished teaching. Sometimes I think it is a misnomer to say I teach. More often, I think it is better described as a group of us regularly got together and learned from each other and from some books. I am not sure students often see that they can be teachers, too. And most good faculty I know, are quite sure they are still students---still learning.
So the picture I have is of twenty students. At the beginning of the semester, I did not know any of them very well. And many of them I had never seen on campus. For the most part, we began as strangers. But we were strangers with intent. We intended to be together and to learn from each other. Now that it is over, I suspect they would say they have learned things they never expected to learn. That almost always happens. This is why openness is such an important quality to bring to a learning experience. You never know!
I am also sure the students would say they learned a great deal from each other. That always surprises them. Since I am the “professor,” they expect they will learn something from me. I hope I did not disappoint them. I am confident they did learn some things from me, but again what they learned is probably not what they expected to learn from me. After all, I have a title, an affiliation with a particular department and a reputation.
All of those things---title, discipline and reputation---create expectations. Expectations often are linked with assumptions. Expectations and assumptions frame what we look for, how we see and what we think we learn. All of us have some kind of framework. Usually, it is not explicit. Our friends, our education---and all the rest---have created a frame by which we see the world. We easily assume “that’s the way it is.” And our view of what’s true and false gets determined that way.
I learned some time ago, that hanging out with people who are different than I am can affect the way I see things and learn things. This is what happened to the students in that class. They found themselves with people different than they were. Of course, they had things in common. But even the things they had in common were not always held in common the same way. For example, I might hang out with people who all play the piano. But with just a little time, I will come to find out there are different techniques, etc. This makes us different, even within our commonality. This is what the students experienced.
The picture of the students comes from our last day together. I don’t try to do anything serious the last day. Instead we have a celebration. And in this case, I gave them all a flower. Hence, in the picture they are all standing together holding a yellow flower. I don’t know whether they care about the flower. I don’t ask them whether they want one. I just give it to them. I know I attach some meaning to the flower. But I have no way of knowing whether they attach any meaning to it. And that is not why I give it to them.
I give them a flower as a gift. They have allowed me the privilege of being with them as a learner. The flower says “thank you.” Of course, I could use those two words. But I want more than words. I want a symbol. I want a symbol of beauty, delicacy and fragility. That is what life is about. Life can be beautiful. It can be delicate. And surely, it is fragile. But that is what the flower says about my framework. I don’t say any of this to them when they are given the flower. I don’t want to affect their way of making meaning of my gift.
I am confident, however, they will make some kind of meaning with the flower that is similar to mine. These flowers will inevitably wilt, but our memories won’t wilt. They will remember that I gave the flower and that it symbolized our time together. The flowers naturally will be thrown away. But symbols are not needed when memories re-create the reality of what we have together. And I switch to present tense. We do have the relationships and friendships from our time together. These do not end with the ending of the class. The class is over; friendships continue.
I share all this here because for me it is very spiritual. Although most of us don’t have flowers, we have been given gifts. And we are all in it together. We can learn and grow from hanging out together. We have much in common as human beings, but we are also very different. If we are open, caring and humble, we can learn and grow. That is what God desires from us.
I like having the picture. In it the students have a flower. At a deeper level, I would like to think they are a flower. And so are we---all of us---flowers. We are beautiful, delicate and fragile.
This picture currently on my screen is a group of students who were in a class I have just finished teaching. Sometimes I think it is a misnomer to say I teach. More often, I think it is better described as a group of us regularly got together and learned from each other and from some books. I am not sure students often see that they can be teachers, too. And most good faculty I know, are quite sure they are still students---still learning.
So the picture I have is of twenty students. At the beginning of the semester, I did not know any of them very well. And many of them I had never seen on campus. For the most part, we began as strangers. But we were strangers with intent. We intended to be together and to learn from each other. Now that it is over, I suspect they would say they have learned things they never expected to learn. That almost always happens. This is why openness is such an important quality to bring to a learning experience. You never know!
I am also sure the students would say they learned a great deal from each other. That always surprises them. Since I am the “professor,” they expect they will learn something from me. I hope I did not disappoint them. I am confident they did learn some things from me, but again what they learned is probably not what they expected to learn from me. After all, I have a title, an affiliation with a particular department and a reputation.
All of those things---title, discipline and reputation---create expectations. Expectations often are linked with assumptions. Expectations and assumptions frame what we look for, how we see and what we think we learn. All of us have some kind of framework. Usually, it is not explicit. Our friends, our education---and all the rest---have created a frame by which we see the world. We easily assume “that’s the way it is.” And our view of what’s true and false gets determined that way.
I learned some time ago, that hanging out with people who are different than I am can affect the way I see things and learn things. This is what happened to the students in that class. They found themselves with people different than they were. Of course, they had things in common. But even the things they had in common were not always held in common the same way. For example, I might hang out with people who all play the piano. But with just a little time, I will come to find out there are different techniques, etc. This makes us different, even within our commonality. This is what the students experienced.
The picture of the students comes from our last day together. I don’t try to do anything serious the last day. Instead we have a celebration. And in this case, I gave them all a flower. Hence, in the picture they are all standing together holding a yellow flower. I don’t know whether they care about the flower. I don’t ask them whether they want one. I just give it to them. I know I attach some meaning to the flower. But I have no way of knowing whether they attach any meaning to it. And that is not why I give it to them.
I give them a flower as a gift. They have allowed me the privilege of being with them as a learner. The flower says “thank you.” Of course, I could use those two words. But I want more than words. I want a symbol. I want a symbol of beauty, delicacy and fragility. That is what life is about. Life can be beautiful. It can be delicate. And surely, it is fragile. But that is what the flower says about my framework. I don’t say any of this to them when they are given the flower. I don’t want to affect their way of making meaning of my gift.
I am confident, however, they will make some kind of meaning with the flower that is similar to mine. These flowers will inevitably wilt, but our memories won’t wilt. They will remember that I gave the flower and that it symbolized our time together. The flowers naturally will be thrown away. But symbols are not needed when memories re-create the reality of what we have together. And I switch to present tense. We do have the relationships and friendships from our time together. These do not end with the ending of the class. The class is over; friendships continue.
I share all this here because for me it is very spiritual. Although most of us don’t have flowers, we have been given gifts. And we are all in it together. We can learn and grow from hanging out together. We have much in common as human beings, but we are also very different. If we are open, caring and humble, we can learn and grow. That is what God desires from us.
I like having the picture. In it the students have a flower. At a deeper level, I would like to think they are a flower. And so are we---all of us---flowers. We are beautiful, delicate and fragile.
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