"Mostly love, now."

I read this a few nights ago and it gave me so many good feelings.
 

"It's all a learning opportunity"

I regularly follow a weekly podcast of free "dharma talks" given by Insight Meditation Center called Zencasts. One of my favorite teachers to listen to is Gil Fronsdal and a few weeks ago he was speaking on the topic of equanimity. Aside from giving me something entertaining to listen to while I walk my dogs on this rock in the middle of the ocean, I usually find that much of the advice given is not only helpful for my life and meditation practice in general, but also directly applies to my work in the classroom.

The talk about equanimity couldn't have come at a more opportune time and couldn't have been more directly related. After hectic Thanksgiving travel and with preparations for the winter break looming I was feeling out of sorts and having trouble navigating the classroom waters steadily. When this happens, and I know that I am tired and probably not being my best self the words of a wise fellow blogger, Stacey Lewis from Sweet Sky, come to mind: "You are the weather." And if I'm in a particularly stormy mood, I know I'm a huge influence in the environment.

In the talk, Gil mentioned a visit to his son's preschool. After disrupting a perfectly calm classroom with his sudden presence, Gil apologized to the teacher. The teacher smilingly replied "It's all a learning opportunity."  He went on to talk about four qualities that he originally called "the grandmotherly attributes" but decided to rename "the preschool teacher qualities" after several anecdotes related to his experience at his son's school. He was referring to the Brahmaviharas, four central Buddhist virtues. I have read about these before, and loved so much to hear them described in the context of working with preschoolers.

The first of these four qualities is loving-kindness. In terms of working with children, to me this means a practice of seeing the best in the children and deeply wishing happiness for them. It has to do with hope and with acceptance, and with practicing the acknowledgement of what is positive in each of us. It also means directing that same kind of attitude towards myself. It also means to me that when I am feeling disconnected from a child, that I first have to work on my vision of that child so that I can see them lovingly and then be able to be of help.

The second is the idea that everyone is deserving of compassion. To me that means cultivating an attitude of helpfulness. It means working hard on overcoming the learned habit of wanting someone to experience pain in order to learn sometimes. It means being able to see clearly that when a child is acting out in the worst possible way, they are suffering and are in need of some smart kind of kindness.

The third quality is empathetic joy. This is sort of a new practice for me... I was brought up in a very competitive environment and my schooling and hobbies all reinforced the  idea that in order to succeed, someone else has to lose or do poorly. And that therefore, if someone else was doing well, I should feel threatened. The practice of empathetic joy means that I can rejoice in other peoples happiness. In the classroom that means that I can participate in all the successes that happen in the classroom. As a teacher, I can help children develop that feeling too- that when someone else does something great, we can all be a part of that celebration. (I love the idea of how this practice can really multiply the feeling of joy in one's life.)

And the last of the "preschool teacher virtues", and the one that Gil expanded on the most in the talk was the quality of equanimity. This is where he compared the preschool teacher to the grandmother. As educators we have seen our share of children and can have a much greater perspective on children's behavior than say, a first time parent. To me it meant that we can have days in the classroom that feel muddled and remain confident, knowing that it won't always be that way. The same way that we can have the most normalized week and meet the following Monday without the expectation that it will be just as orderly. Equanimity is a quality that I'm sure preschool teachers who have been at it for decades posses in excess.

Thinking about these four qualities after listening to that podcast was like putting a fresh wind in my sails and having a solid north to point to.

How we spend our days

"Presence is far more intricate and rewarding an art than productivity. Ours is a culture that measures our worth as human beings by our efficiency, our earnings, our ability to perform this or that. The cult of productivity has its place, but worshipping at its altar daily robs us of the very capacity for joy and wonder that makes life worth living — for, as Annie Dillard memorably put it, “how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
-Maria Popova



I read this inspiring post from the great blog "Brain Pickings" recently, and Annie Dillard's quote got me thinking. We spend 7 hours a day with the children at school. This means, I spend more waking hours with them in a week than I do with my own friends or family. The children spend more time with me at school in a day than they do with their own parents! It made it blatantly clear to me that our time together is a huge part of both their and my life. We are each other's company for a large part of that time right now. It made me consider Maria Montessori's quote about school being "a preparation for life". No, I'm thinking, the time we're at school is life itself! It is "how we spend our days."

Putting it in that kind of perspective made it imminent that care and thought be put into making that time be as enjoyable as possible for all of us involved. I wondered if I should bring my thoughts to the children and ask them- "How can we make the time we spend together be really nice for all of us?" I brought this up with my friend, who is an elementary teacher, and she said- "That's exactly what we do at the beginning of the year with the elementary students!" (This makes me secretly love the thought of taking elementary training more than I already do). Those old ones apparently have a meeting at the beginning of the year and discuss what are the agreements they will all make to ensure the environment is enjoyable for all of them. How to bring this to the mind of the Primary students?

All this once again reconfirmed what seems to be a recurring lesson for me- that HOW WE ARE ends up being more important that WHAT WE DO. Or at least, as important when it comes to how we are spending our life.

"The things that matter most in our lives are not fantastic or grand. They are moments when we touch one another, when we are there in the most attentive or caring way. This simple and profound intimacy is the love that we all long for." -  

Jack Kornfield 

The teacher

"A teacher, out of compassion and love, seeing that somebody is suffering, gives a path. But each individual has to walk on the path. There is no magical miracle with the teacher. Totally out of the question. He only shows the path. That is the only role of the teacher, nothing else. "

- S. N. Goenka


My meditation teacher passed away a few months ago, and one of the quotes that surfaced in a website announcing his passing was the quote above. When I read it, I could relate to it not just as a student, but as a teacher of little children as well.

Sometimes I don't want to let a child make a mistake. Sometimes I want to sit right next to them after I present something, to help them get it all right on the first try. Sometimes I give them a choice that is not really a choice, it is a masked strong suggestion, or even a costumed threat.  Sometimes I want to choose for them, because it's so much easier."I know what's good for you", I think. Sometimes I want to act for them, and not see them say hurtful words or do hurtful things. Sometimes I want to MAKE them do things in a certain way. Sometimes I reject the way that they are being and want to change it, quickly, because I am uncomfortable with it.  I have all these urges, sometimes.  Sometimes I am the pickaxe that spoils the key.

I forget, sometimes, that my job is to show the path and then GET OUT OF THE WAY. That THAT is the only thing I can do. Only to try my best to show the way clearly, lovingly, with care and precision,  with joy and hope. I cannot walk it for them.  Ultimately, each one has to walk the path themselves.

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Children learn what they live.

Beginning again.

"Be patient with everyone, but above all, with yourself. I mean, do not be disheartened by your imperfections, but always rise up with fresh courage. I am glad you make a fresh beginning daily. There is no better means of attainment to the spiritual life than by continually beginning again, and never thinking we have done enough. How are we to be patient in dealing with another's faults if we are impatient in dealing with our own? He who is fretted by his own failings will not correct them. All profitable correction comes from a calm and peaceful mind. "

Joseph Goldstein "The Experience of Insight"

Here.

Giving and Receiving

“Gracious acceptance is an art - an art which most never bother to cultivate. We think that we have to learn how to give, but we forget about accepting things, which can be much harder than giving..”
-Alexander McCall Smith


Especially in the first weeks in the classroom, with new children, and children returning from weeks in a different kind of order, I find myself getting caught in a mode of giving. I am observing and responding, and most of the energy is going out in giving: instruction, hugs, reminders, non-verbal communication, in showing how, in connecting and helping. I sit back and observe, sure, but my interactions are focussed a lot on getting things headed in a certain direction. Influencing. Modelling.

I was thinking about the opposite of what I have been doing. I am spending so much time giving that I'm forgetting to take care to receive fully. In beginning again the balance should be tipped this way: to listening, and welcoming, and creating space, and being available in the moment to acknowledge what the children are sharing. I see that they have so much to give, so many ideas, and words, and silent successes, stories, questions, and love. Especially when we are meeting for the first time, or again after a long time of absence, I imagine how nice for them to find an adult that is ready to receive them. I remind myself to graciously wait, quietly, and receive what they are offering.


“Until we can receive with an open heart, we are never really giving with an open heart.”
― Brené Brown

Thought for the week

Go out into the world today and love the people you meet. Let your presence light new light in the hearts of people. ~ Mother Teresa

Summer is for making things

 

 This summer was for making things. I reconnected with an old love (clay) in a most happy place (Tuscarora, Nevada) and made pots and whistles. Spent time in the woodshed with Yair and built a table, and a meditation stool, and a pasta drying rack. I made new friends. I pickled kelp with my grandmother. I made some jewelery. I folded paper. I cooked and read and had a good time.

And now the summer is over, and tomorrow the children come back to school.

Today I was wondering why I was feeling an absence of nerves. Usually there is a building wave of anxiety that begins to gather momentum before the new year begins... "Do I still know how to do this?" I wasn't feeling it this week, I'm not feeling it now while I write. I was curious enough that I almost summoned the tension by too much wondering.

Perhaps all the presence gathered up in the summer by working with my hands and being a beginner at so many things  is helping me learn that there doesn't need to be a dramatic crescendo of emotions. That tomorrow is not yet, and to trust that I'll know how to respond to whatever happens when the time comes.