Archive for the ‘Inspiration’ Category
#55) Removing the Training Wheels
My oldest daughter loves to ride her bike. Up and down the sidewalk, she breezes by with a happy confidence that comes from riding without training wheels. Last summer she, just like my youngest is doing now, rode her bike with tentativeness. A cautious restraint that says: “I don’t want to fall”. Because that was her guiding thought, she fell often; but then something happened. She noticed the other kids were having much more fun and riding their bikes much faster without training wheels. Once we removed her training wheels, bike riding became one of her favorite activities.
For my fifth year of classroom teaching, I chose to take a leap of faith. I had earned tenure teaching in Ypsilanti but was eager for change and new challenges. When I began teaching first grade in Highland Park, I could not have imagined the magnitude of challenges that were in store.
On the first day, I remember sitting at my desk about 30 minutes prior to the arrival of students and wondering, “what have I gotten myself into?” In the previous 14 days, I
- Was bedside as my grandfather transitioned from life;
- Served as a pallbearer during his funeral;
- Broke numerous speeding records as I drove across Michigan rushing to Chicago to reach the downtown offices that administered marriage licenses 10 minutes before closing;
- Got married and went on a honeymoon;
- Returned to Chicago at midnight Friday and drove to Michigan for an 8 am job interview;
- Signed a contract with a new district, resigned from the old district, and cleaned- out my old classroom;
- Attended professional development and set-up my new classroom on Monday.
As you could imagine, on the first day of school that Tuesday morning I was feeling as if I had survived an emotional hurricane. Only to learn that the storm was not over.
The biggest storm weathered during my experience in Highland Park had very little to do with Highland Park. The biggest storm was changing my pedagogy. I had been a creative, engaging, and progressively more effective teacher in the previous years. However, I had a tendency to build my instruction around textbooks and curriculum guides. Somewhat like teaching with training wheels. While in Highland Park, I evolved as a teacher because I finally grew beyond those training wheels.
Highland Park is a small and very impoverished city. The children arrive at school with life experiences that would evoke immense pity. A number of the children bring a defensive edge and aggressiveness that they use to protect themselves from further disappointment. The district also serves a large transient population, whether those families were homeless, poor people moving from place to place to avoid eviction, or students from Detroit Public Schools who transferred for expedient testing and placement in special services only to take their completed I.E.P. back to Detroit. The city and school district of Highland Park continue to face daunting challenges that threaten their existence.
It was in Highland Park that I learned just how much of a context-setter the environment and community could be. Because I had taught kindergarten at an advanced pace during the three previous years (I taught second grade as a first year teacher), my curricular expectations were beyond the demonstrated academic skill of my first graders in Highland Park. I want to emphasize demonstrated academic skill is much different from academic aptitude; all of the children in my class were intelligent. Yet, it became quickly apparent that our resources, textbooks, workbooks, and supplementary materials, were inadequate for what and how I needed to teach. I had to teach without training wheels.
In hindsight, it appears to have been a combination of necessity and professional maturity that prompted my teaching evolution. Becoming more comfortable teaching without training wheels was a monumental time in my growth as an educator. As I have grown, I have learned that the best teachers teach without training wheels. They research, acquire new information, actively participate in workshops, experiment, and then synthesize those experiences and more into relevant, captivating instruction.
With the first days of school upon us, I enthusiastically wish that this year is your year to teach without training wheels!
#53) Yo’ Shack In Glory Gonna Tell Da Story!
I spent a large portion of my formative years at New Hope Tabernacle Church. My parents made certain that my brother and I attended Sunday school, morning worship, afternoon service, night service, prayer service, and bible class. Many of my fondest childhood memories stem from my time in youth choir and attending Vacation Bible School. We were at church so much that the church members became family.
Our church family matriarch, Evangelist Mona Lisa Lockhart, was my favorite Sunday school teacher. Perhaps it is because by the time I was in her class, I was old enough to make connections from Bible stories to real life. Perhaps it was because she was such a passionate instructor. More than likely, it was a combination of those things and more.
Because I was raised in Detroit, I had a degree of separation from the cultural traditions of southern Black folks. I remember being puzzled at the notion of someone putting “roots” on someone. I recall being absolutely befuddled at the thought of people living in places that did not have interstate highways. I laugh at the memory of my first visit to the rural south when extended family members bellowed in laughter at my inquiry of “what else are we going to do?” For you see, after the fish fry, everyone just sat around outside and talked. There was no television, no basketball court, and no corner store, just family and rehashed and revamped stories. Needless to say that first visit was a massive culture shock.
Nevertheless, it was an overwhelmingly apparent Southern charm that really endeared me to Evangelist Lockhart. Initially, I found humor in her southern dialect and inflections. But with each year of living, I uncover more wisdom within her numerous rural colloquialisms. Of which, the most frequently used was “yo’ shack in glory gonna tell da story.” Actually, the printed word does not capture the heavy twang in which the syllables in “glory” and “story” were more pronounced as “glo-reeey” and “sto-reey.” Our adolescent chuckles never deterred her from sharing that nugget of wisdom.
Because we were in church, it was assumed that the “shack”, “glory”, and “story” of which she referred were heavenly or religious concepts. Sometimes she would elaborate that she was not going to have a shack but rather, a mansion. Because her intentions were to convey that our Christian efforts on earth will be reflected in our heavenly rewards. As I have matured, I have found the “shack” and “sto-reey” also has implications for our earthly lives.
Since I last sat in those wooden folding chairs listening to Evangelist Lockhart and admiring the distinctiveness of that hats she wore, I have come to realize the results that one achieves in life are indicators of two things: their circumstances and their effort. It would be impossible to assign a percentage value to circumstances or effort but I can attest that the former is often beyond our control and the latter is totally within our control.
When people refer to their circumstances or environment as cause for their life success or lack of success, I understand. Indeed some use circumstances as an excuse to underachieve, but beyond that, circumstances do contribute to who we are and the methods used toward what we can become.
However, our effort plays more of a role in what we become. Our effort determines whether we will earn metaphorical shacks or mansions. Our efforts are the largest indicators of what type of results we will earn.
No, this is not a pronouncement of “pulling yourself up by your bootstrap” because that notion is fallaciously shortsighted. Instead this is a prompt for reflection.
- Are you satisfied with the results you are getting in life?
- In what ways have your efforts contributed toward the results you have?
- If you are unsatisfied with your results, will you change your efforts?
Arthur Ashe would tell us to:
Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.
It can be that simple. We can choose today to exert efforts that determine what story our place in glory will tell.
#49) Karma Don’t Come Back Like That
There is a scene in the movie The Best Man, where Terrance Howard’s character attempts to assuage his friend’s fears by assuring that “karma don’t come back like that.” As a father of two beautiful girls, I am certain that I am not alone in hoping that karma indeed does not come back like that.
At the moment we first find out we’re having a daughter, every father flashes back to all the things that he has done to and with someone else’s daughter. It is at that moment, despite religious standing or affiliation, every father-to-be communicates with God. A communication, a prayer, or more than likely a plea, that begins with these two words: “Lord, please”.
From that initial moment of humility and probably for the duration of our days, we are never the same. We attempt to stand rigid, but when those pretty eyes sparkle and coo “please daddy”, we melt faster than ice cubes in a heated oven. When baby girl cries, our chest expands, our bravado multiplies and our ego rages – because whoever did this to our baby girl, they are about to be victimized by our ferocity. Yet somehow, the money you had begun saving for a huge high-definition television, becomes easily spent when lil’ mama needs a pretty dress and sandals. Indeed, we are never as tough as we were before daughters.
Yet I’m here to say that unlike the rest of you, I can tell my daughters, “no!” In fact, I supplement my “no” with a crazed hysterical look that shouts, “what the heck were you thinking?” But my girls work with charm – hey, what can I say? They get it from their dad. They climb into my lap and use their little fingers to outline my eyebrows or mustache. Then they tuck their little chins to their chest and look up from under those long eyelashes. They shrug their little shoulders and affectionately murmur: “daddy….” The rest of the statement doesn’t matter, because this daddy springs into action. “What!! You can’t find your Princess Tiana Barbie? Well, go get your jacket. Daddy will get you a new one.” Later, as we proceed to the cash register of Toys’ R Us, I stoop down and plead with my little ladies, “don’t tell your mama, ok?”
This post is originally featured in Daddy, Am I Pretty? by Damon E. Duncan. Order Your Copy today!
Daddy, Am I Pretty?
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!!!!!!
#48) A Bridge Too Far
If you have ever ventured into the unknown, taken a step into faith, or simply recognized that where you are may not be where you were forever ordained to be, then perhaps the notion of a bridge too far evokes personal introspection. While the terminology refers to a war movie, a book, and a quote from military strategist, the notion of a bridge too far strikes me as a concept regarding destiny and faith.
Chesapeake Bay Bridge
A few weeks back, I had to traverse the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. A twenty-mile series of bridges and tunnels that would immobilize those with a phobia of bridges and could possibly give pause to many others. My journey placed me on the bridge just as the morning fog was lifting. The clouds were overcast. The waters of the bay were choppy and restless. The traffic was barely scant. The lump of gumption I swallowed as I proceeded to cross was followed by consoling, whispers of plea – “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”. I even turned down the radio as if the music’s volume could influence the ocean’s waves.
As I gripped the steering wheel, steeled myself by focusing ahead, and drove in prayer, the lanes began to merge as the bridge descended into the waters. For moment, a large sea tanker was at eye level. I’ve never been face to face with a tanker but I did not have enough time to be afraid of it because I was entering a two-lane tunnel with a large truck approaching just a few feet to my left. By this time, the whispers of plea evolved into a louder conversational tone with its own rhythm – “Je-SUS, Je-SUS, Je-SUS”.
I have never had a phobia of bridges, but the Chesapeake Bay Bridge- Tunnel can evoke unforeseen fears into travelers. However, those fears are much like other fears I’ve faced in life. I chose a college without ever visiting it. I pursued a career without any assurances of financial wealth. I accepted a job, moved across the country, and changed careers simply at the request of one person. Each of these instances evoked their own set of fears. But just as I found with the Chesapeake – the surrounding, rushing, deep-ocean waters, the dreariness of the skies, the inability to see land on the other side, and the loneliness of the journey did not prevent me from crossing the bridge. All of those fear-inducing facts did not mean that journey was impossible.
It simply meant that to proceed toward my destination I would have to advance through some possibly intimidating circumstances. Those circumstances did not threaten the stability of the bridge nor obstruct the direction of the path. Those circumstances were ever-present but were not controlling factors. I came to realize that those circumstances only usurp the journey if allowed.
Something else I learned was that while I was becoming nearly petrified of the narrowing lanes, the abundance of water, and the bridge-to-tunnel-to-bridge-to-tunnel-to-bridge dynamic, I was more afraid of stopping. I was more afraid of parking on that bridge and awaiting help than I was to continue driving. I imagine that if anyone stops growing in life and stares at their circumstances too long, immobilization is imminent and fear trumps progress.
I am not fearless. But I rather proceed through and past my fears than to become a stagnant prisoner of them. Just as I gripped the steering wheel while on the bridge, I could become confident in the resources I have in life. Just as I steeled my resolve by focusing ahead, I can channel a more intense focus on my purpose and my goals. And finally, as I drove over the bridge in prayer, I can grow through life in constant communication with a higher power.
That day, I made it across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, twice. Proving that despite it being a bridge of considerable distance, it and the bridges in life can be successfully crossed because no bridge is a bridge too far.