The Art of Teaching and Flowing With the Tao, Part II

                 


The Tao nourishes by not forcing.

By not dominating, the Master leads.

From section 81 of the Tao Te Ching

 

Education cannot be forced.  The minds of children are not empty waiting to be filled.  They come to us already full—full of dreams and imaginations, fears and hopes, wacky inventions and little songs.  They are brimming with wisdom.  The art of teaching consists in drawing out the loveliness of children and weaving it with what you want them to learn.  Trying to stuff in facts, most of which are out of context, is futile.  It might make for people who can play trivia games, but it doesn’t engender citizens of the world who are filled with character, understanding, and compassion.

If we aren’t meant to cram random facts into the heads of children how do we teach them?  The key is in two of the words from this passage from Lao Tsu:  Nourish and lead.  True education nourishes the minds, heart, and bodies of children.  True educators lead, they do not compel. 

Many people have pointed out that the original Latin roots of the word education mean to bring forth, to draw out.  The Latin, educere, is also related to the word, dux, which is where we get the word duke—a leader.  In other words we want to educate children in such a way as to make them leaders instead of followers; leaders of themselves, savvy to the whims of advertising executives and shady politicians. We want to draw out and nourish the fruits of the Divinity within them.  And this takes gentleness, not force.

Watch gardeners work.  They give the keys to good teaching.  See how they tend the soil.  See how they water the crops.  See how they ensure the leaves have adequate light and space.  Never will you see a gardener reach down and pull out a plant in an attempt to make it grow faster. 

We tend the soil of a child’s intellect by using the gifts they already have within them and merge them with activities that help awaken their interests in the world around them and in the things we want them to learn.  When we couch facts in stories, songs, poems, movement games, and dramatizations we are using the gold already within the minds of children.  These activities nourish the child and allows for the things we want them to learn to take root. 

We water their minds with the sweat of our brow and the tears of our love.  Memorizing songs, poems, stories; writing plays, learning and leading in active learning games—all of this takes work.  It is much easier to simply read the scripted teacher’s edition of a textbook.  The cost is grave however to both the soul of the teacher and the student. 

We give children adequate light and space by protecting their need for outdoor time.  We get them outside at least twice a day for at least a half an hour each time.  We begin the day with active learning games that are both fun and invigorating.  Some people object and say that will wind the kids up and make it impossible for them to sit still.  I say you just haven’t gotten them moving long enough and with the proper, age appropriate activities.  How long am I talking about?  For young children 6-8ish, an hour of active, poetic, musical movement will probably do the trick.  An hour?!  I can just hear it now:  “That’s too much time taken away from learning time!  This isn’t Romper Room!”  Fill the acitvites with things you want the children to learn—anything form times tables to grammar rules and make it active and fun, and they will learn far more, and in lasting ways, than if you sat them down and tried to force the knowledge in by a lecture or movie.  Once children get into the rhythm of activity first thing in the morning they will welcome desk work, provided it is appropriate and meaningful and creative.

Sunlight, open windows, outdoor play is crucial to the development of young minds and bodies.  Taking children on nature walks is a lost art in itself, lost amidst fears of lawsuits and too much urban sprawl.  There are ways to bring nature to children and to get children outside.  Do you run the risk of children getting scraped knees?  Yes, but scraped knees are good for the soul (“Remember that time I fell and my leg started bleeding and you picked me up and put that Sponge-Bob band aid on my cut and sang me a song?”—Children remember their wounds, and how we tended them, and how they healed).

Lastly, let the children blossom at their own rate.  Any significant organic learning issues will become apparent with ample time to address them.  In general, every child is different, just as every stalk of corn is different, just as every species of plant is different.  Draw them out with compassion, ease, and understanding.  The moment we get nervous that a student hasn’t learned something in the time we think they should have then that student picks up on our anxiety.  Yes, I realize modern public education builds on itself—layering facts upon facts (largely simply expanding on the same tired facts year after year with bigger and bigger words), and so some teachers worry students will fall behind if they don’t meet the objectives you are required to write on the board.  The task of the teachers is to honor their students not the objectives thought up by someone who doesn’t know your class. 

In short, help your students become leaders by guiding, planting seeds, nourishing them, and tending the gardens of their intellects with active, creative, and imaginative activities.

 

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


The Art of Teaching and Flowing With the Tao, Part I

 

Over the next few weeks I will be using Lao Tsu’s beguiling and beautiful text: The Tao Te Ching to glean various alternative teaching methods that can be employed in practical ways directly into a classroom, or into the school of your life.  I do not claim to be a scholar of the Tao, nor do I believe everything in the Tao Te Ching applies to education.  In fact, the way I utilize the text should give some indication of my over-arching educational philosophy: there are no cookie-cutter educational systems and the more black and white rules there are the more stressed things are in the classroom and in your life. In other words, I pick and choose what I’ve found works, and leave the rest.  The days of all or nothing are gone…for the most part, that is.

The first lesson comes from Chapter 73*:

 

The Tao is always at ease.

It overcomes without competing,

answers without speaking a word,

arrives without being summoned,

accomplishes without a plan.

 

One of the keys to being an effective teacher is to strive to be at ease in the classroom even when things appear to be in chaos.  If you can use tools like deep (belly) breathing, affirmations, and even EFT tapping (“even though things are a bit disorderly right now, I love and accept myself and my students”) then these moments can be strategically utilized to help transform the chaos into order.  After all, Allan Watts once pointed out that even though clouds and surf may appear disorderly there is an indescribable order and beauty in them. 

If you try and compete with the mayhem and yell over the yelling, then more bedlam will ensue.  Lowering the voice, doing mini visualizations (to yourself or with the students) such as imagining mercury dropping in a temperature gauge, will help bring the energy level down in the room.  Really.  Try it.  Beware of contempt prior to investigation.  You do not try to compete with the chaos, you simply transform and channel the energy into productive directions. 

One key thing to do, after the dust has settled, and you’re alone in the classroom or with your own thoughts, is to ask yourself what you need to change in your lesson plans, delivery, or expectations.  Is what you are giving your students really meaningful?  Are you just filling time?  Before asking the students to change, ask yourself what you can do better or differently.  Sometimes when kids are restless it’s because they have a sense that what they’re doing is useless and pointless.  They also sense when you are unattached from your subject matter and/or are unprepared. So love what you teach, make it meaningful to them, and always be prepared.

The use of the body can help break the trance of mayhem in any classroom.  Try using body language, proximity, your eyes, eyebrows, or even physical comedy.  If you are always relying on your voice to direct, teach, discipline, and to praise, students will eventually learn to tune it out.  So become at ease in your body enough to get their attention by doing a little dance if necessary, or by simply walking into the center of the storm and staring intensely at something out the window or on the ceiling.  I guarantee the students will stop and wonder what you’re looking at.  You can also move in close to the loudest students and look them in the eye.  Over the years I have used the one-raised eyebrow trick to great effect.  If you can’t raise your eyebrows then try raising both hands, not in a gesture of surrender, but in a gesture of triumph.  When you do something out of the ordinary the students will stop talking and ask if you’re OK.  To which you answer: “Please turn to page 57 in your textbook.”  Remember the key is to not compete with the disturbance, but to transform it.  Singing works wonders too.  Just start singing a catchy tune and they will soon be singing along.

Physical proximity isn’t just for quelling disturbances either.  It’s also an effective way of sending messages of praise.  Look a student in the eye and give them a gentle nod and smile when they’ve done something well.  They will remember the gesture longer than your words.

In addition to discovering alternative, noncompetitive methods for lowering the noise level of a group of children, you can also preempt outbreaks of commotion by “arriving without being summoned.”  In other words, use your intuition to anticipate where trouble might be brewing and make your presence known in the midst of the cauldron. 

The last part of this passage might appear to be imprudent, and even contradictory to what I just said above about the importance of being prepared, but I do not believe it means to be unprepared or to not have routines and classroom management plans in place.  I think it means to be willing to do something that most curriculum developers discourage teachers from doing nowadays—improvise.  So be prepared, but be prepared to toss the lesson plan out the window if a hornet flies into the room and you end up giving a lesson on insects.  Be willing to move with the flow of the students, and while it may seem like you are succumbing to their whims, in reality you are leading them by dancing with them rather than fighting them.  Honor their sense of curiosity and their wisdom.  Trust them to tell you what they need.  And what they need might not be in your scripted teacher’s edition.  It might have to come from your heart.

*all quotes come from Stephen Mitchell’s translation

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


Reflections on Dreams, and The Artists Within

Good Day, Dear Readers,

As you know I talk a lot about following your dreams here at the Wonder Child Blog.  There are other dreams however that may influence us–the kinds we have while sleeping.  Today I am going to share with you some poetic reflections about these other kind of dreams.  And while it is best to focus on our waking hours, our sleeping hours can provide a vast storehouse of subconscious information that can help guide us on our way. 

This piece was inspired by the insightful work of Dr. Jean Raffa (http://jeanraffa.wordpress.com/).  Enjoy.

Dreams– moving murals painted across the living canvas of the mind by the artists of the soul.  The mediums they use are so mysterious: seemingly innocuous experiences we have during the day, foods we eat, events from our childhood, scents and aromas, music, the sense of touch, movies we saw twenty years ago.  The venue they have chosen to work in is even more mysterious—the dark theater of sleep.  We must enter the darkness in order for the artists to step from behind the curtains and begin splashing paint across them.  Once they’re finished, and the curtains form a watery backdrop, they arrange a set with props from the past and silken memories draped over moveable, skeletal scaffolding.  Then they invite us to go up on stage and parade around with huge, larger-than-life-gestures wearing the masks of dog, aunt, uncle, neighbor, co-worker, angel, devil—even ourselves.  And oddity of oddities, we get to watch from the audience as well—and we watch with our eyes closed!  It’s all so strange.  And yet the players and the artists creating the whole vision are there to do more than entertain—each night they prepare elaborate mystery plays, initiation rites, ancient sacrificial rituals, and birthing ceremonies; and all of them on the stage of the imagination—that wonderful and blessed, living playground of the soul, and all of them meant to instruct and enlighten—to open our eyes to the truth.  These players form the most loyal, dedicated guild of artists there is.  They are the trusted servants of our deepest desires.  Day after day they labor for us and with us.  And every morning, as we wake, and sunlight begins filling the auditorium, all of the artists, the players, and the set, are moved behind the curtain to remain back stage until the next showing. 

When we wake up, if we are troubled by a particular play that transpired that night, take a moment and peek behind the curtain, see backstage the most amazing mystery of all—the play within a play—all of the workers are one worker, one director–the person we most want to become.

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


Learning to Fly: A Playful Video Story For Young Children of All Ages That Teaches Us How to Deal With Expectations, Especially Expectations About Going to School (now that’s a long title)

In this video, which starts out with me having a little silly, fun, I tell a story that I wrote for one of my first graders nearly 15 years ago.  On the second day of school this little girl came in with a note from her mom saying that her daughter was terribly disappointed about how the first day of school went.  You see the little girl had the expectation that she was going to learn to read on the first day of school, and when she didn’t, she no longer wanted to come back. 

This story, which will someday soon come out as a picture book, will help children see that sometimes learning looks different than we think it should and that sometimes it’s even hard.  The rewards however, are wonderful—we get to soar.

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


Parenting and Teaching Tips: How to Teach the Multiplication Tables in Fun and Active Ways

The times tables have been a bugaboo for parents, teachers, and students for generations.  Teachers teach them and children learn them, only to forget them over the summer.  Then the teachers reteach them and children learn them again, only to forget them the following summer.  Teachers get frustrated, parents get frustrated, and worst of all, children begin thinking that there is something wrong with them and teachers start labeling them with learning problems instead of reevaluating their teaching methods

How can we teach the times tables so they stick?  How can we teach them so that children not only learn them, but retain them? 

The answer lies in HOW we teach them.  This video gives several techniques I have used over my 15 years as a teacher.  Put them into practice and not only will the times tables-facts sink in to children’s minds, but into their hearts and bodies as well.  Moreover, you will both love the process by which this occurs.

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


…And the Walls Came Tumblin’ Down: the Fine Art of Knowing When to Tear Down Walls and When to Build Them

                          

Inspired by a post by Dr. Jean Raffa (http://jeanraffa.wordpress.com/2011/09/16/the-secret-to-healing-relationships/) these thoughts about walls came out.

 

The idea of tearing down walls is sort of a paradox for me right now.  We all build walls, naturally and almost effortlessly when we are growing up– “normal” ego-development walls, that is.  But when you add to the mix childhood traumas, then walls became not only natural to build, but necessary, even welcome.  And as I am discovering, most of the walls have to come down in order for me to allow myself to be touched—heart and soul and mind–touched, and to touch others.  The work is slow, for the most part, brick by brick, chink by chink.  Other times, the walls crumble as fast and as dramatically as they must have in Jericho when we are suddenly and unexpectedly inspired or moved by another person or experience.  At times like these, many walls fall, revealing hidden gardens and treasures. 

Some walls remain, however, and I am learning to look at them as blessings—like the guard rails on a mountain or the walls of my house.  Sometimes I need the protective embrace of the earth transformed into brick and mortar.  Sometimes I sit atop the walls and watch.  Other times I lean against them and weep, knowing there is something on the other side, but I am too afraid to climb or even look.  Still other times I revel in the solitude behind the walls and write rivers of words; for paradise, after all, means “an enclosed garden,” and I am learning to be OK with me, and that hidden within the walls of my heart, is a safe place where my dreams are growing. 

I say all this to say, I am still learning which walls need to come down, which need to remain; which need to remain and yet be hopped over or dug under.  There are no easy answers, especially when walls start crumbling without any notice, when the earthquakes of healing wave through and I find myself standing in the light—the light of the wisdom and love of others.  I am learning to step through the wreckage and breathe.  The gardens are still there.  I needn’t fear losing them.  Indeed, they are easier to share once the walls come down. 

Other times walls go up without me realizing it, like I accidently hit the “shields-up” button on the Starship Enterprise…Luckily, I am open enough today to learn how to learn.  And for me, it is not just emotional or soul walls—it’s mental walls also—old ideas and paradigms need to come down too—like it’s OK to earn money trying to help others—doctors do that all the time, or that it’s OK to make money doing what you love. It has taken years for those walls to come down, but luckily they are coming down.

I am slowly learning that, while walls can be fascinating, and strangely refreshing to the touch with their ancient coldness; beautifully constructed with various marbles, schists, and granites, they are still walls—wailing walls, walls to protect, walls to divide, walls to hang paintings on, and walls to put windows and doors into.  It is a lot to sort out—which ones to tear down and which ones to leave, and when it’s OK to build them.  But the rewards of intimacy, of true connections, soul to soul, heart to heart, mind to mind that come from the meetings without walls, are so worth the effort and struggle to be free.

Thank you Dr. Jean, Lefty, Blaine, Mandy and the boys, and all of you, dear readers, who serve as Joshua’s lovely and beautiful horns.

 

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


Made in Our Image, A Creation Story


 

The Creator and Creatress sat together on the banks of a little spring, sculpting lumps of clay they had scooped from the ground.  They kneaded and molded in silence, dipping their fingers occasionally into the water.  At first they made two perfectly oval eggs, and then they shaped five pointed stars from the center outwards.  As they worked, they sang.  And as they sang, their fingers moved to the rhythms of their songs, blurring their fingerprints all over the clay.

They fashioned limbs and heads from the points of the stars.  They formed elegant curves and lines.  They rounded parts here and straightened parts there.  They increased parts here and trimmed parts there.  They used their fingernails to delineate patterns of hair and sinews of muscle.  They carved intricate ears like the insides of seashells.  They painstakingly trimmed the ends of the limbs with fingers and toes.  And all the while, they sang.  And all of the while, their song infused the clay with light and remembrances of the sound.

They adorned the figures with concave and convex parts to fit together in exalted ways.  They garnished the eyes with delicate lashes and the lips with a glossy finish.  They patted and pressed, smoothed and engraved, and decorated the figures all over with the tiniest of hairs knowing this would heighten the sense of touch.  They traced spirals on the pads of the fingers and went so far as to bedeck the bottoms of the toes with swirling patterns of widening ripples.

And as they worked, they sang.   And as they sang, enlivening the clay with pigment and breath, they could not help but weep.  They could not help but render these First Ones beautiful.  They could not help but impress them with passions and crown them in glory.  They could not help but pour over them tears of devotion.  They could not help but establish them with strength.  They could not help but invest them with power.  They could not help but saturate them with creativity.  They could not help but embellish them with little kisses and lavish them with hopes and dreams.  And finally, they were finished.

“In your image,” said the Creator, bowing to the Creatress with the woman he had formed.

“In your image,” said the Creatress, bowing to the Creator with the man she had formed.

And the First Ones stood there, blinking in the light.  As things began to focus they found each other’s hands and looked deeply into each other’s eyes.  Mesmerized with holiness, they traced each other’s faces and then, for the first of countless times, looked up at their Makers in wonder.

 

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


In the Graveyard

In the Graveyard

The fireflies

rose from the grass

among the headstones

and danced all night.

I couldn’t help but think:

“The souls have risen

to shimmer and to play. 

Look at them. 

That is what dancing

in heaven must be like.”

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


Peace Visualization

A Peace Visualization

I adapted the image of the chalice and the passing of the Light
from a teacher meditation by Rudolf Steiner.

See yourself holding a golden chalice to the sky.  Imagine, as you give thanks, Light spiraling down and filling the golden cup.  See it spilling over and everywhere.  Imagine you suddenly realize you are in a circle of people, each one holding a golden chalice.  See yourself passing the Light to the person next to you, pouring it into their chalice, meeting their eyes.  See that person, perhaps it’s your father, mother, neighbor, or a relative from the Other Side, maybe it’s Jesus or Mary, Buddha or Krishna, maybe it’s your husband or wife, teacher or mentor, co-worker, or a perfect stranger.  See their heart through their eyes, and see that person receiving your Light and then turning and passing it to the next person until it circles back to you.  Imagine the Light pouring all around you, running over your cups and beginning to collect at your feet.  Imagine the Light lapping at your feet, like cool water, or warm water, whichever sensation brings you more comfort.  Imagine the Light spiraling over you and upwards, back to the Source.  Imagine everyone in the circle turning outwards and sharing their Light with others who have formed a ring around your circle.  Imagine the Light swirls around each of them, chalice to chalice, and that they in turn share it with another, ever widening circle, until people on the streets simply stop, drop their briefcases or cell phones, and step into the circle, lifting their cups to the Light.  See this until the world is filled to overflowing with Light—infinite, never-ending, glorious Light.  See this until it rings true within your soul.  Because this is how it happens.  This is how Peace and Goodwill spread throughout the land, person to person, gaze to gaze, chalice to chalice, heart to heart.

                 

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog


The Embrace

They had walked all day. Miles they had come taking turns carrying the child. As the mother and father moved cautiously through the darkening woods they ached with fatigue. And when their plodding steps slowed to a halt, they sat down to rest, right there in the middle of the road. The mother handed the child to the father so she could stretch out. The father held the child on his chest and joined her on the cool, dusty road.

Then silently, from the darkness, yellow eyes appeared. The father grabbed the child and sat bolt upright. The animals stepped from the shadows towards them. He roused his wife. They huddled there together, shaking—turning every which way, only to see animals forming a circle around them. The child began to giggle. The father moved to cover his face, but the child brushed his hands away. His eyes widened with glee as the animals moved closer.

The first to reach them was the mountain lion. She carried something in her mouth. It was a rabbit. She laid it at their feet and turned away, yellow eyes flashing. The bear lumbered towards them next. In his mouth were two rainbow trout. He laid them before the trembling couple, snorted and sniffled, and then turned back to the shadows. Then came the heron, looking for all intensive purposes like a tall, skinny butler. He stepped his long, remarkable strides, and in his outstretched wings was held a bowl of pure, cold water. He offered it without spilling a drop. And so, one by one the animals came bearing gifts of wild berries, salads of dandelion greens and edible flowers, and even freshly baked bread from—from—the couple never found out where from. And lastly came the reindeer and the wolf. The reindeer carried a wreath of glowing candles in her antlers. With the utmost care she laid it before them. It illuminated their tear-stained faces. The wolf took his place beside the family and stood guard as they began to eat.

And so that night they feasted on a meal lovingly prepared by the animals. They had never had such a nourishing meal.

After they had eaten and drank their fill, the wolf disappeared into the cave of the night. And the couple laid back in the road to sleep. The darkness was almost complete as they stared exhausted into the tree-branch laced sky. Suddenly the trees leaned forward and down with their branches. The couple screamed, but then realized the trees were opening their arms in offering—they were giving them a place to nestle for the night.

The couple looked at each other and then carefully stood and stepped into the waiting branches. The trees lifted them instantly high off the ground. The air caressed the little trinity of humanity as it rose, higher into the night sky. That night, they slept like baby birds in the gently swaying trees.

It was the child who awoke when he heard the earth singing the sweetest of lullabies. It was a song of crickets and of night birds and frogs, it was the song of the padded steps of animals, it was the song of the river flowing somewhere in the darkness. As he listened, he felt the earth holding the roots of their tree with all of the love and tenacity of a mother swaddling her baby.

And so it was the child who felt the arms of the moon reaching down and lifting them even higher.

Her embrace was like refreshing silver water pouring slowly over them. And as the moon cradled the little family, the child laughed as he watched the Milky Way swooping her star-fringed arms and gathering them all—the mother and father, the babe, the animals, the trees, the earth, and the moon into her gently dancing arms.

And the baby reached up and brushed her face, tracing his fingers through her star-dappled hair. And as he did, his eyes caught site of the universe turning towards them, carrying them along in the perfect folds of his cloak of shadows and light.

And the child laughed. He laughed as he saw the Creator of All holding them tenderly in cupped hands. And as he took in this marvelous vision, he sank into the cradle of his parents arms and knew all of this was within himself. He held it all—the animals, the trees, the earth, the moon, the Milky Way, the universe, and the Creator–in his heart. Within him was one elaborate tapestry of wonder and perfection. He knew he treasured it all inside, and with that thought, he went to sleep in the dear, innocent arms of his mother and father.

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog