I recently received an email from my favorite college professor, Dr. Mieczyslaw Dabkowski. He has been nominated for the Regents’ Outstanding Teacher Award, an honor given across the entire UT system, and needed student letters of support as a part of his teaching portfolio.

He felt understandably awkward about asking for such letters from his current students. And so the privilege of testifying to the excellent qualities of a truly outstanding teacher fell to me. (I had written a couple of emails, thanking him, just after I graduated. I guess he remembered them.)

ANYWAY… one of Dr. Dabkowski’s most notable qualities is his profound humility. Given, humility means a lot more to me than it does most of the world. But, his humility really impacted me.

As it turns out, I am pretty passionate about that whole humility thing. (OK, I knew this already.) But there was no mistaking that fact when I went to write about it in my letter.

When I read those paragraphs aloud to my roommates, I could not stop laughing at myself… and how absurdly carried away I had gotten in those paragraphs. I somehow made  it through OK with Amanda, and simply added a couple of lines and moved it to the end of the letter (so as not to lose everyone at the beginning). But by the time I read it to Wendy, my brain kicked in and I KNEW that it was going to require severe revision.

I’m still really amused with myself. And the paragraphs are just too good to lose them forever. And then I remember… I have a blog for things like this. (No, that isn’t really why I have this blog.)

I can hardly believe that I typed anything like this with any intention of giving it to such a committee. In all honesty, a significant number of people who would read the letter are probably guilty of the very thing that I am railing at. Truth be told, I kind of do want to preach at them. I wouldn’t be railing at this thing if I didn’t find it utterly repulsive and was not so irked by it. But… a letter of support for a guy I really want them to love is NOT the place to do that.

And now… with no further ado… I give you the paragraphs that begged for revision:

Dr. Dabkowski’s humility is one of his most memorable, notable, and outstanding qualities. True humility is an admirable quality and it greatly aids the learning process. Pride, arrogance, and competitive exhibitions of self-perceived excellence are commonplace in any academic field and mathematics is in no way immune to the disgusting rituals of narcissism and self-exaltation that plague the academic community. None of us, however, go to college with the aim of being impressed by our professors or to learn about their greatness. Unfortunately, it is terribly difficult to try to learn anything else from someone who is primarily concerned with demonstrating his own superiority. When I showed up in Dr. Dabkowski’s classroom, I was exhausted from the frustrating task of learning from such men and wondered if I wanted to associate myself with mathematicians at all.

Dr. Dabkowski’s humility was refreshing and restored education as an enjoyable endeavor. His attitude made it easy to learn from him and created a safe environment to explore, ask questions, and clarify points of confusion. He was clearly brilliant and had greater claims at the admiration and respect of his students than any of the other men who were so desperately grasping for it. And yet, this man demonstrated greater humility than I had ever encountered in a teacher. His humility renewed my respect for mathematicians in general and showed me that it was possible to reach his level of achievement without becoming so prideful and unapproachable.

Posted in Teaching ]]> http://christinewas.wordpress.com/2009/03/24/what-not-the-time-for-that-ok/feed/ 3 Christine http://christinewas.wordpress.com/2008/10/03/hello-change/ http://christinewas.wordpress.com/2008/10/03/hello-change/#comments Sat, 04 Oct 2008 01:56:39 +0000 Christine http://christinewas.wordpress.com/?p=362 ]]>

Our community is ever in a state of flux. Perpetual, significant change is just a norm. The intensity and the facets of the seasons of transition ebb and flow. Sometimes there are simple, gradual changes. Sometimes there are huge changes like death and birth, people leaving the country, people leaving the NightWatch.

We seem to have passed into another one of those high-intensity transitional times again.

First, we have the circumstances of change:

The NightWatch schedule is changing for the first time in several years. We almost shifted a few sets around, several months ago, but that very quickly popped back to exactly what it had been for the last several years. We’ve had worship leaders change. We’ve had complete teams disolve and new teams start. But this is the first time in a VERY long time that the whole schedule is being rearranged. And I’m actually really excited about this change.

Two of my closest friends are leaving the NightWatch. Two of my closest friends… who I love and enjoy and spend a great deal of time with. In the past, I might have joined in with those who grieve as if our friends are dying or leaving the country, to never return. I know that our relationships will change, but I know that they are not completely leaving my life. I have peace about the change.

Perhaps death is what has sobered me to the impermanence and potential good of people leaving the NightWatch. Nights to days ISN’T permanant and irreversible. And their lives will continue, as will mine, and the movements of our lives will not be completely without intersection. Not like the aching emptiness of a life that ends and will never dance in and out of my own life again… until the day when everything changes and is restored and made new.

Death has also weighed in a lot in the last month or so. The kind of change that is utterly beyond our control and jolts everything out of place. Change that is not temporary, except in a far broader scale. Sometimes, the comfort of the resurrection isn’t comfort enough. Sometimes the groan for His return and His justice on the earth become so consuming that it seems impossible to keep going. But the same Spirit that groans within me and continues that perpetual cry for Jesus’ return is the Spirit that quickens me to life… filling me with joy and strength and courage to keep living… living fully.

In the week where death had already thrown everything into question and I was deeply wrestling through the “HOW LONG?” dialog that also appears in many of the Psalms, more death seemed to be around every corner. A couple lost their baby. The beloved Dr. Null passed away. Grief and loss spattered my already doubtful, grasping, desperate, and questioning existence. But His leadership is perfect and He continued to lead me through those murky waters. My hope waned and shifted, and it took on a completely new form once it has passed through those refining fires, but hope endured (or perhaps died and reemerged from) those flames.

New life is also an element of change in our community right now. Several of my friends are pregnant. While we are still months away from meeting these babies, God is already shaping their whole selves. Talk to the Lord about a baby who is not yet born and you begin to understand how real and alive they are in the Lord’s eyes… how much He already has in His heart for them. It’s so moving, as He shares glimpses into those lives. Not to mention the constant physical changes that are happening in the baby and even the woman’s own body. (Just ask any pregnant woman… she is well acquainted with steady change.)

My personal schedule and staff designation are also changing… praise the Lord. My days of operations staff are ending and I am returning to a full-time staff designation. This means that I get to spend more time in the prayer room. The prayer room kind of shifts into a higher level of priority again. I am SO excited about this change.

Our government is also in the midst of significant transition. Approaching elections and the leadership shift that follows. Shifting economy and nationwide financial panic. Constantly changing international climate.

Even my relationship with Richard has recently seen significant transition. We’re still moving at a slow pace, but there are firsts in a relationship that naturally make things different after they have happened. Things like the first REAL fight (of a certain nature, at least)… where I was actually fully emotionally present in the midst of the conflict and the majority of our night off was consumed by tearful confrontation.

Let us not forget marriage. Tom and Natina are married, now. And I am going to three more weddings this month. Weddings are pretty significant transitions, if you ask me.

Also, beginning next week I will be teaching again. At least SORT OF teaching. I am partially teaching a class on the book of Daniel for a group of NightWatch Media Apprentices. We’ll meet for three hours, once a week, up until Christmas. I will be teaching about half of the material and facilitating discussion as we go through Allen Hood’s Daniel class. It’s exciting, but also drags me a bit out of my comfort zone again.

Too many things are shifting and changing right now to name them all. But you can surely see from the list that I have already given that there is a lot of transition in our community right now.

I am going to dedicate another post to my general feelings on change at this time.

This actually happened about three weeks ago, but I haven’t taken the time to sit down and write about it. So… here it is.

As of November 19th, I am no longer a geometry teacher for the Daniel Academy. Praise the Lord. I will say it again… Praise the Lord.

We weren’t too far into the semester before I realized how seriously I had overcommitted. Between the bookstore, the prayer room, and teaching, I had far more on my plate than I could actually handle. And so I pleaded for mercy.

The Daniel Academy was amazing. They understood my desperation and released me from my contract. The only condition to my being released was that we find another teacher.

I didn’t actually find out that I was free until the night before my last class. I thought we would transition at the change of semester (to make things easier on the students and, especially, on the new teacher). But the email informed me that I would be introducing the new teacher to the class the next day, and that he would take over immediately.

I jumped up and down and squealed (several times) when I found out. I was actually free. My life was going to be… manageable again.

I am really excited about the teacher that I left my students with: my friend and fellow mathematician, Chris Fiorello. He is a perfect fit for the job and I know that the students will love him (and that he will love the students). I cannot think of a single person that I would have felt better leaving them with. So, while I miss my students a great deal, I know that they are in good hands. And I know that they will all grow and learn from their shared experience in the classroom. 

In all honesty, my little over-commitment binge may have been a bit of a coping mechanism. I was too busy to grieve. I was too distracted to really feel my pain. This became inarguably evident a couple of days before Chris took over. I wrote here about the day that the whole grief thing suddenly caught up with me.

It was a little painful, embracing the failure of not following through with my commitment to teach. But I feel oddly good about the whole thing. I made the right decision, letting go of the class. This was the best way to serve my students… and the best way to continue enjoying life.

As far as having made the commitment in the first place… I am not experiencing and extraordinary level of shame in regards to that, either. As Anne House put it, I needed to get it out of my system. I never would have known if I hadn’t given it a try. Now I know. And… I believe that I had a small, but meaningful, impact in the few months that I was involved with the school, helping them get started.

So… that is my latest good news. Good news for which I have constantly been thanking the Lord in the last few weeks.

This is reason number 87 that I love my geometry students: Wax seals. I have told my students that I will give them two bonus points if they use a wax seal to reseal their tests after they take them. (All of our tests for the Daniel Academy are done at home.) Well, they have responded and risen to the challenge. Last time, I got two wax seals. This time, I got something like 7 of them. It is so fun to see little snippets of their creativity. The seals are a lot of fun. They usually leave a little spot of oil that has bled through to the test itself. I can’t help but laugh as I am grading the tests and come across those little patches of greasy fragrance.

The prize for the first creative solution goes to Josh. He used what looked like a piece of jewelry to imprint some sort of “seal” into his wax… making it an actual seal and not just a wax blob.

I have been very impressed with the envelopes they have been bringing me. It’s a lot of fun to look at them. And I will probably keep them forever. Perhaps someday I’ll get around to posting some pictures.

Also worth noting: Philip consistently seals his tests far beyond what could ever be considered necessary. It’s so funny. There’s a good foot or two… or more of packing tape repeatedly wrapped around the outside of the envelope… staples… AND a wax seal. I have to admit, it’s a little difficult to break into the envelope to retrieve his tests. His mom is very careful to clarify that she is not the one responsible for the seal-the-test frenzy, but that Philip does it of his own free will. I would probably make a point of that if I was her, as well.

There are PLENTY of other incredible things about my students. I love them. I really enjoy them a lot. I’m not sure how much they are going to take away from the class… but I am getting a lot of enjoyment and fond memories out of the endeavor.

It is becoming increasingly evident that I bit off more than I could chew this year. And now I feel like I have two choices:

One – spit it back out, as disgusting, disappointing, and shameful as it may be.

Two – completely choke on it.

Between the prayer room, the bookstore, and the Daniel Academy… I have committed to too many things. I have cut back as much as I could in all of it, and it still isn’t working.

I woke up feeling really sick today. Tired and weak. Not quite like I’m getting a cold, but like one COULD be right around the corner. In any case, my body was completely wiped out. And THEN I realized that I actually won’t be getting my day off tomorrow or the next day because of the conference.

So, I called in and asked for the day off. Because my boss is amazing (and super gracious), she granted the request. When all was said and done, though, I ended up working for about three hours today. But I WAS able to go back to sleep for a couple of hours after I made that call. (When I did show up at the bookstore today, people kept commenting on how wretched I looked. “Are you getting sick?”)

And then I realized that I had completely missed a meeting for the Daniel Academy this morning. As horrible as my irresponsibility is, it’s probably a good thing that I forgot. My body wouldn’t have been able to take it.

I’ve already cut back on the prayer room. I made the painful decision to go from full-time to operations staff, siginficantly decreasing my prayer room hours. On the bright side, this means that I am actually capable of keeping my sacred trust again. And, switching back to partial nights has greatly increased the amount of sleep I get each night. (And has also significantly aided in my ability to keep my sacred trust. I have yet to miss a set since the switch… since I have little chance of accidentally sleeping through them, now.) And, I’ve even cut back a few hours in the bookstore.

Anyway… I’m at the end of my rope. (Don’t worry, I won’t draw this analogy out like I did the first one.)

In any case… I need to get out of something. And it’s not the bookstore. And it’s not IHOP.

I sent a very difficult email tonight to see if there is any way to get out of my teaching contract. It was so hard to do. And it could go very badly. But I just can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to get sick. I don’t want to hate life. I don’t want to be inconsistent, unfaithful, and irresponsible with everything that I have committed to because my commitments and responsibilities are more than I can manage.

The reason I am awake right now is because of that email, pleading for a way out. I just got done writing and sending it.

I’ve been thinking about sending that email since August. Pretty much every day, actually. (Even as I have been growing to love my students more and more and have become increasingly comfortable with teaching the class.)

Pray for favor. Pray for provision. Pray for a solution that works for all involved. Pray that I don’t wake up really sick tomorrow morning.

Why am I calling my schedule a fruitcake? Well, it was the first really dense conglomeration of mushed-together stuff that I could think of. Actually, kind of the only one. One large substance made from a tighly packed collection of thematically related elements.

I am a human being, so there are a few basic scheduling necessities:
I sleep (though I’m working on trying to do more of that and in a more consistent way).
I eat (also working on more consistency with that one).
I hydrate (I consider myself to be quite skilled in this activity).

I am also an intercessory missionary, so we add a few more necessities:
I spent time in the prayer room (and I am not shifting these hours to fall between 10 PM and 2 AM each day).
I go to FCF each week.
I raise support.
I go to things like team briefings.
I have service hours (addressed below).

I am a manager at the Forerunner Bookstore, hence:
I work 36-40 hours each week (on paper; reality looks something more like 40-55 hours).
I get lots and lots of phone calls when I am not physically present in the bookstore (we’re working on the boundary thing).
I think about work a lot when I am not there.
I forget that I don’t live in the bookstore and wander in from time to time.
I dream about the bookstore with some regularity.

I am a high school teacher for the Daniel Academy, meaning:
I stand in front of class of 11 students and teach for two hours each week.
I drive to school early to prep for class each day.
I get a lot of chalk in my clothing and in my hair (not really a schedule-related element…)
I write lesson plans and determine homework assignments.
I write tests, quizzes, and warm-up activities.
I grade assignment and such and record grades.
I record attendance and monitor completion of homework.
I try to assess (from the information I have) how my students are doing and what their strengths and weaknesses are.
I fight with that lovely little program we call RenWeb.
I think a lot about my students and how to better serve them.
I lay awake sometimes thinking about how to handle specific student situations.
I address parent and school leadership concerns.
I get really mad at myself for not being a better teacher (we’re trying to cut down on this one).
I read lots and lots of TDA emails.

I love God and want to know Him more, so:
I am in a study group that is going through Oden’s Word of Life (2 hours of discussion time and lots of Christology reading).
I am in a study group that is going through Moltmann’s Spirit of Life (2 hours of meeting time and plenty of Pneumatology reading).
I read 5 Psalm and 1 chapter in Proverbs each day.
I am trying to reawaken the Hebrews memorization plan that halted at the time of my mother’s death.
I cry a lot.
I have other short-term Bible reading plans that I go through.
I try to talk to Him all day.

I am broken and want to be whole, which means that:
I spend 3 hours each week in a heart-wrenching meeting that I like to call “Happy Fun Time”.
I have a considerable amount of homework that, when taken very seriously, consumes a lot of time.
I cry a lot.

I care about my friends and value relationship, and so:
I spent time praying for my friends.
I try to squish time with friends into my increasingly limited free time.
I lose sleep over broken relationships.
I cry a lot.

I love writing and it helps me process, so, at least in theory:
I spend a significant amount of time journaling.
My emails get pretty long and take a while to write.
I blog fairly regularly (keep in mind… I said this was “theoretical”).

I think that Richard Liantonio has a lot to contribute to us (this community and the body of Christ), and this means that:
I read as many of his school papers as he gives me access to.
I intend to attend class each time it meets (at least for systematic theology 3hrs/night, 4 nights/week when it comes up again).
I read through his notes and make nitty-gritty detail editing remarks (you know… commas, word tenses, etc.).
I try to find ways to make his notes more accessible to the average not-a-pure-genius reader/listener.
I tell him that his sentences are too long or too complicated (… a lot).
I consistently argue for more structured ways of organizing his notes.
I write a lot of silly and completely unnecessary notes in the margins while I am editing.
I argue with Richard about commas, sentence length, organization, and presentation of an argument.
I accuse him of throwing pudding at people.
I believe and try to frequently remind him that he is an excellent communicator.
I try to think of ways that his communication could be improved and strengthened.
I seek to apply things to my life when he convinces me of them.
I try to give feedback on how significant I think a lot of the things he is saying are and the ways in which they have impacted my life.
I listen to Richard when he speaks.
I spent a lot of time talking to people about the things that he has made me really think about.
I agree to help with random little projects that will help with developing his class/classes, message, papers, etc.
I cry a lot.

I am an introvert to the max, and thus:
I need a fair amount of alone time to wind down at night.
I need to be alone for a while if I’ve spent too much time around people.
I can get caught up in reptitive, mindless activities that allow space for just thinking and dialoguing with God alone.

And now I must go and pursue that sleep thing a little further.