mccomas, August 3, 2002 at 4:11:38 PM CEST

Morning Pages: August 1, 2002

Injustice and oppression are complex issues rooted in social policy, the environment and the economy. Social action workers understand people may experience problems as individuals but these difficulties can be translated into common concerns.

If change must be embraced by one of the five major institutions in order for it to become mainstream that means that until a critical mass of people within one of those institutions embrace a change iti s still a grass roots effort. When the numbers embracing the change reach a certain amount, a tipping point, then the change is adopted as standard practice.

Hmmmm...

So change still starts from the ground up. Even in government, changes begin as an idea in first one person's mind, then another person's, and so on until the tipping point is reached and the change becomes standard practice or legislated. When this happens, particularly with legislation, people suggest that the change is of a top-down, imposed or mandated, nature. BUT, and I think this is critical to social action work, even things that are mandated or legislated begin as an idea in the mind of just one person. So, while it's sometimes easier to throw my hands up in despair and claim powerlessness as my excuse for inacativity or passivity, the fact is that I am only powerless if I choose to be. I could, instead, choose to create situations where change can happen, work toward reaching a critical mass. I can take action, be an agent of change. I can share with one person, who can share with another, and so on...just the way a virus spreads, first linearly, then non-linearly to epidemic proportions. I can begin to spread the virus I believe in, hoping that if I come in contact with people who are susceptible, perhaps because they find their own situation to be a miserable one or just perhaps because they want to change one person's life, they will catch the virus and then spread it around. I have to realize that not everyone I come in contact with will catch the virus. Some will be resistant to this particular strain at this particular time. That does not matter, nor will it stop my attempts. And, if by some chance I keep running into resistance to the virus that will be a signal to me to reconsider, again, the beliefs.

So, all this to say, "Hell yes, one person can make a difference!" My friend has this quote by her office door:

To the world, you are just one person. To one person, you just might be the world.

Back to those five institutions that started this rant. They are all complex institutions with many faces. They engage in social affairs in both positive and negative ways. They are good when they remember where their power comes from; bad when they forget "of the people, by the people, and for the people."

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mccomas, August 3, 2002 at 3:46:47 PM CEST

Morning Pages: July 24, 2002

I didn't really talk yesterday about my social action project. What really stood out to me yesterday was how the focus of most people's work is about people; not necessarily content, but real human emotions, a recognition of the pain and isolation so many of our young students feel (no matter what level).

As for me, I'm not certain where I fit. I'm looking at the social action principles and trying to fit my work into one of them because I really don't want to start something brand new (except I might have to).

One of my jobs is to document the work of the site - perhaps another is to be the Social Action facilitator - to facilitate this group through the 5 step process - as they work through solving a problem (or at least thinking about solving a problem) in their own teaching practice.

I'm struggling with some tensions then. The tension of being a facilitator of the process, an agent for change, but here I am a member of this group - where CSA suggests working alongside, not becoming group member of group leader. It's hard for me to find the space I need to be in and to stay w/in that space - I keep overstepping my boundaries-moving the lines a little-and while I don't think this really hurts anything-it does change the boundaries and I need to be aware of that.

So a second tension is where and how - damn, I went off chasing another thought in my mind and completely forgot what it was that I wanted to characterize as the second tension. Perhaps the second tension then could refer to the fact that social action within the classroom has some pre-set boundaries - certain rules that are already in place (grading, etc.) and that means that there is a strong issue of power to deal with. Despite what we might like to happen, we aren't all created equal in the classroom because the teacher has the power - but, let me think this out a little bit...The fact that the teacher has power is cultural not necessarily real; teacher has power because things like grades are important to students. If we were to value different things, then power could be shifted.

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mccomas, August 3, 2002 at 3:22:40 PM CEST

Morning Pages: July 31, 2002

All people have rights, including the right to be heard, the right to define the issues facing them and the right to take action on their own behalf. People also have the right to define themselves and not have negative labels imposed upon them.

To exist humanly is to name the world, to change it. Once named, the world in its turn reappears to be the namers as a problem and requires of them a new meaning. Human beings are not built in silence, but in word, in work, in action-reflection. (p. 69)

What I realized later was that I was forcing a change over which they had no control. In effect, because my teaching paradigm changed I was forcing a change in their learning paradigm. Their resistance was their attempt to "name their world" and they were exercising their right to take action on their own behalf. I realized then that my efforts to change were going to be difficult, if not impossible, unless students bought into my way of thinking. I wasn't ready to give up on them and I wasn't ready to give up on me. Here was one of those magical times when simply asking the students was a wise thing to do. I learned that what I perceived as resistance was really fear. What I perceived as a desire to take the easy way out was really a desire to do their best work and that they believed the old paradigm brought about their best work. I learned that they had little confidence in themselves as writers of anything, that they didn't think they had anything important to say or that anyone would listen. I learned that they didn't think they were learning by doing it my way (and I learned later that they didn't realize how much they were learning because it was different).

The point of all this is that when people are thrust into an unfamiliar place they react, often in a negative way; but, when people are invited into a space they have the choice to enter. In my own teaching I can only invite and it is up to my students as to whether or not they come in. I found that by showing them around the place first and telling them the reasons behind what I do, a lot more students voluntarily accepted my invitations. True, some of them only accepted because their "mother" told them too (since not accepting the invitation would result in a lower grade). The fact is that nobody has to come to my parties; but if they come, they have to accept the guests and the games and even what kind of cake we're having. Sure, once they are there I can accept suggestions such as playing badminton instead of dodge ball. Sure, we could run out to the store to get vanilla ice cream because someone doesn't like chocolate.

I think my overall point is we all have rights, yet with those rights come responsibilities and with choices come consequences. It's really up to each of us how to navigate through this notion of freedom...how to live with our choices and how to be open to change...

Change...an interesting concept to explore....

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mccomas, August 3, 2002 at 3:10:12 PM CEST

Write a Letter

Written in response to a prompt titled "Write a Letter" on July 30, 2002.

It's an interesting letter, one of apology of sorts with an invisible campaign that isn't as transparent as I thought it was when I first wrote the letter. There's a neediness and a selfishness I detect in the letter; but there are also great flashes of insight. What is most interesting to me is simply that my father, a man who did not keep "things," kept the letter.

Did he know that letter would find its way back to me? Did he know that letter would be my chance to go beyond the jokes and laughter to say things that mattered to me in a serious way? Did he know that I would know that he understood my letter as a way to say "Thank You" and that his keeping of the letter was his way of saying "You are most welcome!" Did he know that this very week I would be missing him particularly and need to remember writing that letter?

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mccomas, August 3, 2002 at 3:03:01 PM CEST

Morning Pages: July 30, 2002

We believe all people have skills, experience and understanding that they can draw on to tackle the problems they face. Social action workers understand that people are experts in their own lives and we use this as a starting point for our work.

False start above, couldn't say what I meant. I know Amy is sitting next to me breaking down the word "expert" and I must say I feel a bit tempted to look that word up (Expert: very skillful; having much training and knowledge in some special field). So, this means that my students are the experts in their lives, not me, and if I start where they are in teaching I will only know where they are by asking them. I like how this talks about our job as "...to help uncover what is already there." Reminds me of Nohad, who once wrote about "unfolding our personalities."

This principle may well be the one I've spent much time working toward. I can remember countless conversations with Charles. I would moan and groan about something going on in one of my classes, vocalize some kind of "I wonder..." question, be lost in thought as though I was pondering the imponderable. Into my deep, philosophical reverie Charles' voice would crawl, "Have you asked them?"

"Damn," I'd think, "why does he always remember to do that part of it and I need to be told every time?"

He assures me and reminds me that he doesn't always remember that sometimes I, or Shirley, have to remind him to ask his students.

It's such a novel idea, almost embarrassingly complex in its simplicity. And what happens when you ask? Students tell you - people I've never heard speak in a class suddenly start talking to me in classes where they were previously mute. My students have much to offer me, if I can just let go every so slightly, if only for the briefest of moments.

So, what does this all say to me about teaching? It says, "Let go." It says, "Shut up." It says, "Listen."

And, in the quiet space between an inhalation and an exhalation, where the diaphragm sits at rest, I will hear my students' voices and by hearing them, acknowledging them, I'm affirming their worth as people who have something to say that I'm interested in. This, then, begins a cycle of positive behaviors, which help the student take risks and figure out who and what they are. In taking these risks, my students will use their insights and knowledge base to form the basis for the stories they can tell about who they are and where they've been.

All well and good, so how do I get to the point when I am able, truly, to start where each student is? What if my class ranges widely in terms of technology skills or varied widely in emotional maturity or varied widely in knowledge base? In college it seems as though I need to sometimes teach basic skills along with the content of whatever course they are enrolled in. This is grossly unfair to the cream of the crop and those between the cream and the bottom. So, everyone in the class works at the level the bottom needs, regardless of where they are academically.

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mccomas, August 3, 2002 at 6:57:10 AM CEST

EVAPORATE

[from Martha's demonstration]

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mccomas, August 3, 2002 at 6:53:13 AM CEST

untitled (shadow poem writing)

this is a poem to myself whom I've mistrusted 364 days a year whose blue-green eyes have been opened to shadows falling long across Martha Road freckled with the end of the day red-sunset sunshine and accessorized with mocha fawns and orange trumpet vines. I scarred my mind's retina with alcohol, fear and hate for myself because I didn't know I was beautiful and wise with a sharp tongue and a combustible wit. but nobody knows that about themselves and must be shown and shown again until they believe because I think anyone can be redeemed, especially me so I write this for me, for recovery, for life.

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