The symbolism of baptisms

Though I gave up Christianity and religion 20 years ago, it's uncanny how their themes periodically manage to find their way into my conversations.  A dear friend of mine who is Buddhist lamented to me that after much initial progress in her life of prayer (chanting, actually) she has fallen into a rut and lost her confidence.  I shared a thought that came to my mind from the Christian concept of Baptism. 

According to Christian thought, spiritual awakening happens first with a baptism, which is essentially a kind of purification of oneself.  The baptism is the starting point.  As far as I know, there is no similar starting point in Buddhism.  My friend has been spending much time chanting for such things such as strength, courage, and wisdom, but I wondered aloud to her today whether before asking to receive things, perhaps she should chant for some sort of an inner cleansing first, so that as a vessel, she might be in a better condition to receive those gifts.  She'd give it some thought, she told me, and I know she will. 

Religion is so personal to those who choose such a path, and so I don't want to appear glib.  But I do believe my advice above is an illustration of how beauty and wisdom can be found in all religions for those that keep an open mind. 

Getting a feel for consequences

In my middle school internship, the steepest part of my learning curve involves the proper way to handle discipline matters.  When I was in the classroom, I took tremendous pride in the fact that I rarely had to send my problems "up to the office."  In other words, special consequences (suspensions, etc.) were never needed.

But as an administrator it seems like I won't be able to take a "let's just handle it between you and me" approach to discipline.  When certain rules are broken, consequences need to be doled out accordingly.  As I sit through more and more office meetings, I am trying to get a sense for what consequences fit what actions.  The truth is, there are many instances when a consequence does nothing good for a student (especially out of school suspensions).  The obvious comparison would be whether prisons punish or rehabilitate.

As a teacher I was so skilled in handling these kinds of situations.  As a principal it won't be as easy.

Reconsidering whether we are helping students

Occasionally essays I write end up in local newspapers.  I've got a sure-fire winner of one in my mind right now, but it's not one that I can hope to publish because of the controversy that would result.  Here's the short, unrefined version.  Public education, as a culture, provides too many crutches to underperforming students, which at the time might yield short-term results, but which over the long term reduce a child's ability to stand on his own.

It starts with the (admittedly beautiful) line of thinking that there are multiple kinds of intelligences, including visual/spatial, bodily/kinesthetic, musical, logical, and more.  The seven intelligences are famously known as "Gardners Multiple Intelligences".  More common is the philosophy that there are three modes of learning:  visual, auditory, and tactile.  I agree with the legitimacy of these ideas, and as educators we are taught to tailor our approach to each student's abilities and strengths.

At a more structural level we also have special education and English Language Learner programs.  Both of these programs were never intended to be permanent to a student.  The idea was to give students an intensive boost, and get them back into the mainstream.  In reality, neither has ever worked in that manner, and worse, both programs are deeply flawed in that they tend to perpetuate and even enlarge achievement gaps over time.

All of the above (combined with an individualistic and convenience-oriented American culture) contribute to an environment that ultimately ends up in a kind of spoon-feeding of instruction.  This in turn leads to a lack of intrinsic motivation and willingness to strive in order to learn.  Without effort, there is little to no possibility that a rigorous curriculum can be absorbed, even if it is delivered.  This may be one explanation for the student apathy that is so wide spread in today's classroom.

Stamina

Being an administrator requires a special kind of stamina.  It's not the stamina to get through any particular day or week or month.  It's the stamina to be able to engage in the same conversation with a particular student (and parent) over and over again, over time.

In my short stint so far, there are four or five at-risk students who repeatedly end up in the office.  I've sat in on many parent conferences, and aside from the terrible sadness I always feel when I get to understand family situations at home, I marvel at my supervising administrators being able to repeat the same message to a particular student, sometimes two or three times a week, with a straight face, all the while knowing that there is little to no hope that a behavior will improve.  In those meetings, I find myself becoming very quiet and almost somber.