Stone Life

Live With Mild Discomfort! (I've calmed down a bit)

In my 'other' life, the one where I pretend not to be a skeptical-naturalist, I play the role of a....it pains me...Baptist. I grew up with this heritage, have a license to the ministry even, but, by and large, I have remained closeted in my affiliation for the past several years. I am outing myself, because I think I have hit an all-time low after last night.

Last year, despite heartfelt, though unvoiced objections to the contrary, Julie and I joined a Baptist church that needed a guitarist. I really had been itching to get back into a steady routine of playing, and I still have some notions of using one's gifts for the glory of God. I assumed this situation would allow me to kill those two birds with one guitar....uhhm, I mean, stone.
I have had my objections in the months since we walked down the aisle, shook hands with people who still do not even know our names, filled out cards insuring we will receive the monthly newsletter long after we leave the church, and helped perpetuate the extreeeemly questionable tradition of having an emotional-response-inducing "Invitation" at the end of a worship service, but none of my previously held-to qualms could compare with the moral dilemma I faced last night when I showed up to play for the third-night of our "ReNEWal" services.

First of all, allow me to translate for the majority of you who are not familiar with such a thing, because someone had to clue me in on what the hizzy a Renewal service is in the first place. Apparently, they are something very, very, very similar to what used to be called a Revival......only waaaaay coooooler......(skater-voice - "revivals are for your grandpa, grandpa. get with the times.....we don't revive, we renew....it's different, man").

The previous two nights were not any different from a normal service, and, granted, there were moments that made you cringe, but this is an every-Sunday occurrence, and I have grown accustomed to mild outrage or shame; last night was different. Speaking to a packed, packed beyond capacity in a church that usually draws well under half enough people to fill the two-story worship center, was none other than Don Piper (I did not know who he was either, but I thought wording it as such would add a dramatic flair). Piper wrote a book (above) that details his experience during his 90-minute 'death'. He was declared dead at the scene of a rural car accident, but he was miraculously revived over an hour later through what he attributes to an act of God, sending him back to preach his message to the masses (and he has - I believe he said over 2.4 million copies have sold, and it has apparently become a staple on the New York Times Bestseller List).

I take no potshots at the amazing healing that took place both immediately and long-after the wreck, and I think that this testimony alone would be astounding, but I found myself throughout the entirety of the 'sermon' questioning whether a.) he had some sort of unconscious dream sequence, and he really believes that what he saw was Heaven, or, b.) he is the greatest charlatan on the planet, a fraud. I waffled between these two extremes, because at times he was so very likable, deceptively engaging, but other times he was so vague in his descriptions, using smoke-and-mirrors tactics to distract from the topic at hand, fueling my suspicions.

By the time he was finished, I was nauseous, and I have never felt such a sense of shame as I did walking back onto that stage to play the closing songs. People were weeping, people were swooning, and I was a contributing member of this parade of dishonesty. I should have left; I should have at least stayed in my seat, not standing as a figure of support for such a charade. I am two-faced.

Not two days after the aforementioned letter went out to every parent in school, I received a fresh barrage of parents doing exactly that which the principal addressed/pleaded with them in the lengthy, heart-felt correspondence. Yes, my tongueless-brother, there has been, and, apparently, continues to be a rash of parents rescuing their children.

I am not one to stand on the high-horse of my moral superiority and claim the divine-right-of-teachers that many of my colleagues raise like a banner, a superiority based on God knows what, but, somehow, a position elevated above the parents. They know what is right for someone else's kid, because they have experience, love, objectivity, faith...etc, all rolled into one. I know that I know nothing about kids - I do not want to; I do not treat them like I 'love' them, because I don't; I do not view them from a parents perspective - and, maybe (let us be honest - hopefully), this will never change. Can one not educate apart from love and tenderness? I think back to high school; Mr. Choate, did he 'love' me? - No!, I do not think he even knew my name. I respected him and learned from him because he brought his subjects to life by being excited by it. I, too, love the subject I teach. Where I to stay at home all day, I would still study literature, but, this way, people are forced to listen to me talk about it.

Can one educate while loving kids? - certainly, but I think it makes their job more difficult, not less. I have no problem, when a student is caught cheating (as was the case with one of my parent meetings), I do not have to debate whether enforcing the rules is the right thing to do for THAT person; I get the luxury of being black and white. How the hell else will they learn responsibility and consequences if they are never punished for what they do? I balk at anyone, and there have been/will be plenty who defy this position, who claims that a lack of affectionate regard for a student is synonymous with being disinterested in their education - I call b-llsh-t on that. I think either way can, possibly, maybe, be effective, though I am not sure I could go as far as to say equally, but how does 'love' shielding from the realities of consequences help them more than just for that moment? Yes, it is painful to make mistakes; yes, there will be repercussions that may preclude one from one privilege or another; yes, certain things could be overlooked, there could be do-overs and makeups, but is this BEST?


Were I to stand of previously denied "high horse", perhaps I would say....

"Stop coddling your children, you're making them weak - they should/will have the crap beaten out of them by life at some point because of you. Stop prolonging the inevitability of failure."

"Get an effing job! If you have nothing better to do than schedule meeting after meeting with me every time your daughter gets looked at wrong, you are not busy enough."

"Yes, I am young; yes, I am arrogant; yes, I am childless, but....I know this pains you, so I will wait a moment..... I still might be qualified, even MORE qualified than you, to make certain educational decisions. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"It might be time to come to grips with the fact that your child is not as smart or perfect as you thought. I hate to break it to you, but you birthed a human being, not a sainted-robot."

"No matter how hard your will it, your child's successes in life will not make up for your failures."

"Yes, you are right in your thinking - You indeed have more money in your wallet than I will make this entire year, but do you think your little power-play works to your advantage? Reminding me how little I get paid only further enforces the fact that, truly, I am not compensated enough to put out the kind of effort that is required to deal with you."

"Let's use some logic; who do you think is more likely to lie to you, the teacher who could care less whether you agree or disagree with him, who is an ADULT, or your child, who fears the heavy hand of mom, a hand obviously, inclined towards overreaction, which is only further proven by the fact that you rushed to the school to bitch at me."

"Although it would pain me dearly, please, oh please, follow through on your threats. You are right, you pay too much money at this school to 'put up with this'. Just on the principal of things, I would pull your child from this hell-hole. It will be difficult, undoubtedly we will have a day of mourning, but I am sure we will find a way to muddle through with one less a--hole taking up every off-period that I have each week."

....but, like I said before, I would never elevate myself in such a way.

I was sent a letter from my principal this morning, a letter that will soon be sent to the parents of my school. To be honest, I do not always/usually/ever read these emails, because I would have no time for important school matters (like blogging), but this one was interesting. He poses an interesting question for debate....and then he rambles on a bit, but let me reproduce for you the questioning part.

When did things change? What happened? When did the paradigm shift occur where everything is seen through the child’s perspective, rather than the adult’s perspective? My Mom would never have attacked a teacher (or coach) because of my skewed viewpoint. She would always support the teacher first and work with me to see the bigger picture. She was very thankful to have me in a Christian environment with teachers who loved and cared for me, and held me accountable to high standards for my behavior and academic growth. Unless a teacher was doing something immoral, illegal, or contrary to Christian doctrine she never questioned a teacher’s integrity or their ability to do their job.

PARENTS : Do not rescue your children from adversity! Adversity is the vehicle through which Faith and Character are developed. Please let me repeat that…Adversity is the vehicle through which FAITH and CHARACTER are developed. If this statement is true, why would we try to rescue our children from adversity? By all means support them and love them through tough times, but DON’T RESCUE THEM!

I am not sure I have the time or energy right now to debate this, but maybe you do. If so, here is your forum.

This wekend eye had the wonderfull oportunity to head down to Waco and spend a few ours wiht my Mom before taking in POP's cross-country meet down the road from her neu place. I dont get thee chance to sea her very often, so little bit of thyme we wre able to sit on the porch and talk was very nyce. She even made me a peanut buter sandwhich for the road, whcih ai am convinced always tasetes better than thos aye make myselff.

It wus gud to see you Mom,. Bye the way, I dopple checkked the gramar and spelling just for yew this time.

My MacBook-photo-taking-skills are really, really poor, as evidenced to the right, but trust me, this picture does not do the view from my desk justice. Quickly, the 'smoking tree' has become one of my favorite features of the surrounding office-park landscape that is my one refuge from the confines of my hospital-florescent lighted, desk cluttered, child smelling cell, room 128. Several times a day the lonely tree to the far right is inhabited by the social outcasts that still hang on the sole bastion of their youth: tobacco.

I love watching these rebels, as they puff their cool-sticks, flipping the proverbial 'bird' at the rest of the Atkins-infested, trans-fat-depleted, pilate-yoga-ites, slaves cowering before the Surgeon General's scare tactics; I respect them; I envy them. I often want to point them out to my students, but this view is mine, and I do not think they would appreciate it. These filtered-cavaliers are evidence that high school never ends. The cool kids are still the cool kids, undoubtedly sitting around the latte machine inside the air conditioned office, maybe eating a Power Bar to sustain them between their lunch of a single piece of toast and their dinner of low-carb beer: "I don't want to lose my abs". The nerds stay inside the safe confines of their cubicles, working through lunch, willing themselves towards success between every quick bite. The smokers, they are still smokers; only, instead of hiding behind the school, or lurking behind the bed of the tallest truck in the parking lot, they are forcibly exiled to the tree farthest from the building, a safe distance from the public at large, zoo animals on display.

Why, societally, have we turned so vehemently against smoking? The health risk? Obesity is at an all time high in this country, but we claim to be health conscious? Does the lady eating the supersized cheeseburger meal while slurping down soda number three for the day really need to concern herself with the safety of her precious lungs? Is there some sort of body-math that I am not understanding? - heart, kidneys, colon are one thing, but lung trumps them all.
Is it the annoyance of the smell? God forbid one should be discomforted by the personal choice of another. If we are going to adopt this stance of eliminating elements of society based upon the disruptive effects on others, let me add to the list: no more public cell phone use, Doritos must be eaten outside of confined spaces, children shall hereafter be muzzled in movie theatres, airplanes....public, dogs must be euthanized, Ellen and Oprah must be eliminated by any means necessary, and, perhaps most importantly, rubberneckers on the freeway are subject to the same fate as Oprah and the canines.

One day I am going to risk the barbed wire and join my fellow revolutionaries. Proudly we'll stand (or, more than likely sit, because our lung capacity won't be able to handle too much movement), we will light up our leaf-filled torches ala Lady Liberty, and we will celebrate the freedom of poisoning ourselves to our heart's content (or discontent - depends if you are asking me or my heart, I guess), and we will boldly proclaim, "You can send us to the edge of the parking lot, you can stare at us like monkeys in a cage, you can sneer, you can take our dignity.....but you will never, cough, cough, take our freedom!!! cough, cough....

It is something like Paul (or was it Saul). The scales are falling from my eyes, and, though it seems like ages since I felt alive in this way, I think it is an awakening.

In thinking back over the past several months, I know some of my friends and family have either expressed to me or to those close to me (that's right, word travels) the fear that I was wavering in my faith, that I was losing my hope and peace. I have to be honest with the blogger-world (I believe I am up to 3 readers now....scoreboard!), I have been faithless these last few months, floundering in a sea of uncertainty and even standing on the precipice of despair at times. I have hoped that this was not permanent, that I would "wake up" at some point, disentangling myself from the thorny, confining vines that have choked my joy.

Let me be clear, triumphantly clear, my hope is renewed; my cup is overflowing with the promise of a future that can only come from one source.....the Mavs!

Julie and I took advantage of living practically next-door to the AAC and went to the Blue/White scrimmage last night, and I am once again ready to pledge my allegiance to the boys from D-town. Things just feel better when basketball season begins.....like a warm blanket or a good glass of wine.