Monday, November 22, 2010
November 22--one long thought...
Been a while since I last wrote anything—it’s been a series of presentations, some drama and just exhaustion now that I’m coming to the end of my project here. In a week my family arrives and I can hardly wait to hug wife and daughter. I have had an amazing time here in India, but I have some ambivalence about being a tourist for a month. I got so used to being part of the city—my routines and hangouts, the people I see each day. In a couple of days I’ll be just another western tourist enjoying the pretty parts of India and shuttling from 5 star accommodation to 5 star accomodation. I know we have homestays and farmstays planned, but instead of the human connection and relationships now it’s guest service. It’s not that I’m complaining—I’ve been dreaming of a trip like this with my family and we are going to some seriously gorgeous places (Kerala-“God’s Own Country”)—but it’s just different from what I’m used to. I feel like I made it past the first veneer of understanding and now I want more. I made it in a city of 7.2 million people on a different continent—I know how to get around, I can function and give directions, I have a social network, the city feels like home. So now I want to get a better handle on the culture and what it means like to really live here. I’m reading Being Indian by Pavan K. Varma and the Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen and I also picked up Nine Lives by William Dalrymple. These are sort of scratching the itch, but I know the only way it will be satisfied is to return. I tried reading Holy Cow! by Sarah MacDonald and it just made me angry. I feel the same way when at an expat gathering and people just whine about how different India is from the US/UK/etc. I usually get myself to lighten up—these gatherings can be a "safe space” for folks to get a shot of home and share frustrations. I guess I just don’t share the views or find the griping cathartic. My existence has been pretty easy here. Sometimes wonder what my experience would have been like if I was living in a different apartment (what if I didn’t have wi-fi, soft sheets, new furniture and breakfast brought to me each day?) and without a good amount of walking around money? What if it had been a longer assignment? Not sure how productive this speculation is, but I do know that I had a very gentle introduction to India. I mean, I did have some pretty bad culture shock at the beginning, but I think a lot of this had to do with having my project fall apart right in front of me at several points and some housing issues. Besides these hiccups I’ve had it pretty soft—good place to live, great neighborhood, good co-workers, access to technology. I am of the firm belief that a huge part of my success here was due to my network of friends and colleagues. Without the people here to lend a hand (even if it was the simple act of listening or meeting for a meal) or help open doors I would not have had the same positive experience. I never really have to eat alone unless I want to (and even then at some of my favorite places the staff and management know me so I always have conversation). The neighbors down the street bring me movies to watch and I get to pet their dogs. One of my best friends has a car and he’s generous with it. I also think that southern India is easier to get along in despite the heat and language issues—not a lot of Tamil resources in the US. The people are friendly and easy-going (though that can be a catch-22 in some cases, but you just have to kind of accept it as part of the landscape and adjust). My neighborhood has green everywhere, relative quiet (despite having some firecracker lunatics next door and across the street during Diwali—and while it’s tough to find any quiet during the holiday, these people were hard core) and good places to eat within easy walking distance. I am grateful. I looked back at a blog post that I wrote when I was in the airport. I never posted it, too painful. I just said good-bye to my daughter at the airport. I can still see her pleading with me not to go, huge tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Just the memory has me choking up—and I’m stuffing it back down because I know that I’ll be wrecked for the rest of the week if I think about it anymore. I wondered in the car and while I wandered around the sterile interior of MSP what about what it’s like to want something so bad and then when it finally comes you just want to run away from it. I thought about how close I was to jumping back in the car and saying screw it. I am glad that came to India—it’s changed me a lot and I am really happy now. Found some parts of me that had been gathering dust for a while, found some ways of being that are now part of me. My uncle Paul said that everyone should visit India once—I’m not sure if it is for everyone, and maybe I don’t want to fight the crowds, but it is beautiful and contradictory and confusing and wonderful and heart-wrenching and warm and brutal and overwhelming and like home. It’s a part of me, but not in the way that I’ll take to wearing a kurtha or eating only Indian food or becoming a proselytizing (and irritating) yoga devotee when I get home. I’ve fallen in love with a place and it’s under my skin, I’ve got it bad. Without leaving my couch I feel the warm sun on granite under my bare feet as I walk through the ashram, I smell the rain on palms and fresh mud, I hear the jingle of bharatanatyam dancers, the bell between classes, I can taste filter kappi, and I hear the cadence of speech. While all these senses and memories drift in and out I don’t want to even think about what it will mean to say good-bye. It’s coming but not right now. It will be marked by so much that is India—a warm reunion matched with a set of good-byes. 12,000 miles to come back to the beginning of understanding—pain and joy are both fleeting, they come and go. I chose to celebrate the joy. It is so good while it lasts, but it doesn’t last forever. Live in each moment. Be grateful for what you have and remember to share that gratitude with those who made the joy possible. Hang on to friendships and love for even when you have to say good-bye it’s worth far more than a life of cold preparation and distance.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Conversation with Ram
Sitting in the library trying to write a speech--glad I was interrupted...
We have a saying in the US: give a man a fish and he eats for a day, teach a man to fish and he'll eat for a lifetime. I think we can apply to education this way: teach a person to think, show them that their mind is hungry and you've enriched their being and the world for a lifetime. Today a student reaffirmed my commitment to teaching and showed me that this was true. We had a question posted to our discussion board--what does it mean to be an American? Indian? The students posted responses and one of my kids here found me today to share his experience. As he read the responses he reflected back to how little he felt that he knew about his own culture. He started to search for more information about his history, his government and society. He read comments by one of his classmates--she suggested that the American students should see a list of films she provided. The student responded that he felt that film was limited and began to search for other art forms. His search went on into the evening and into the next day when he found me sitting at a table in the library. He gushed about how his experience and what he found as well as how the questions had prompted so much thinking on his part--he did admit that he didn't think he'd ever be able to fully answer the question but that it would keep him thinking. He also stated that he was so happy to be in IB and that it was sort of silly that only the IB kids should be exposed to these ideas. The spark was there. Thanks, Ram.
This whole experience in India has been in someways so not about the project (sorry Lamese, Meredith and Maggie). It's been so intensely personal--spiritual in parts, lots of self-knowledge, all balanced by the intellectual and vocational insights. Today it finally hit me thought that in this process of reflection and introspection I realized that I am going to be gone in a few weeks. When I look at my students I feel a pang of sadness. As a teacher we say hello only to say good-bye in a few months. I should be better at it or at least I shouldn't be surprised or that it shouldn't affect me emotionally now. There was a more senior teacher at my school in Minnesota who commented that once I had been there longer I'd get over it. But it still does pull at my heartstrings. Perhaps this was like my experience in Edinburgh--another place where I cut my teeth, learned about myself and that makes all the relationships more intense and meaningful...I can wrap my mind around it but can't quite buy it. I'm going to miss Chennai and everyone I've met: Sudha and my Madras Mom, Lyola, Suyash and his family, Cheryl, Venkat, Br. Rishi, Vidya, Veena, Anil, Prema, Nivas, Praveen, Pratik, Angie, Naresh, Mohan, Boopity, Shiva, Padmila, Meena, Ashish, Kiti, Marcus, Bindu, Sajit, Nidhi, Santosh, my students.... Thanks for so much.
We have a saying in the US: give a man a fish and he eats for a day, teach a man to fish and he'll eat for a lifetime. I think we can apply to education this way: teach a person to think, show them that their mind is hungry and you've enriched their being and the world for a lifetime. Today a student reaffirmed my commitment to teaching and showed me that this was true. We had a question posted to our discussion board--what does it mean to be an American? Indian? The students posted responses and one of my kids here found me today to share his experience. As he read the responses he reflected back to how little he felt that he knew about his own culture. He started to search for more information about his history, his government and society. He read comments by one of his classmates--she suggested that the American students should see a list of films she provided. The student responded that he felt that film was limited and began to search for other art forms. His search went on into the evening and into the next day when he found me sitting at a table in the library. He gushed about how his experience and what he found as well as how the questions had prompted so much thinking on his part--he did admit that he didn't think he'd ever be able to fully answer the question but that it would keep him thinking. He also stated that he was so happy to be in IB and that it was sort of silly that only the IB kids should be exposed to these ideas. The spark was there. Thanks, Ram.
This whole experience in India has been in someways so not about the project (sorry Lamese, Meredith and Maggie). It's been so intensely personal--spiritual in parts, lots of self-knowledge, all balanced by the intellectual and vocational insights. Today it finally hit me thought that in this process of reflection and introspection I realized that I am going to be gone in a few weeks. When I look at my students I feel a pang of sadness. As a teacher we say hello only to say good-bye in a few months. I should be better at it or at least I shouldn't be surprised or that it shouldn't affect me emotionally now. There was a more senior teacher at my school in Minnesota who commented that once I had been there longer I'd get over it. But it still does pull at my heartstrings. Perhaps this was like my experience in Edinburgh--another place where I cut my teeth, learned about myself and that makes all the relationships more intense and meaningful...I can wrap my mind around it but can't quite buy it. I'm going to miss Chennai and everyone I've met: Sudha and my Madras Mom, Lyola, Suyash and his family, Cheryl, Venkat, Br. Rishi, Vidya, Veena, Anil, Prema, Nivas, Praveen, Pratik, Angie, Naresh, Mohan, Boopity, Shiva, Padmila, Meena, Ashish, Kiti, Marcus, Bindu, Sajit, Nidhi, Santosh, my students.... Thanks for so much.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Thoughts about teaching and purpose...
Chennai night--back from dinner with friends, my mind is restless. Listening to Colin Hay and Ben Harper. Time to sort out some things. I think this is the first picture of a person that I've included on this site. It was taken at a pooja and I am ridiculously, deliriously happy in that moment. The man seated next to me is the school's IB coordinator. We had just finished two intense days of meetings, class sessions, trainings and interviews--and I was electrified. Dancing at the pooja was unbelievable--just added to the whole experience. That night as I drove down from the hills and could smell the rain, lotus and jasmine I was physically exhausted and content. All of my senses and my mind felt awake and alive but settled, calm, at peace. Thought about this for some time--during the odd moments of quiet. Lots of incomplete thoughts, some ideas to test out, some dreams and plans potentially... Trying to make sense of all that's happened here, all the conversations, the relationships, the things I've seen.
Yesterday as I was being driven to school I passed a woman standing by the side of the road. She wasn't old but life and the years had taken a toll on her. You could see it in her face and posture--you could almost feel the weight of her cares. Across the street, children played in a school yard. I was struck by the woman's face in this moment of juxtaposition--in the lines the face of the young girl she once was could be seen. Maybe it was her features that jogged my memory--picturing someone from long ago--or maybe it was the longing I thought I saw in her eye as she gazed across the road to the kids running and laughing. In that moment it was pure compassion. Adult life catches us so quickly--and for some kids their childhood is awfully abbreviated--so who are we as teachers to so readily deal out the hard lessons? This woman certainly seemed to have had her share. What about the girl she was? Were people kind? Did anyone see her potential? Can we see the individual not as a mass of behaviors or a piece of our own task-list or fulfillment but as a human being, perhaps even at one point a child who needed to laugh and be accepted and feel competent? The world has so many hard edges, do we add to the number or provide solace? Are we really present in the moment and see the person in front of us as a human being or do we react from what we think we are, all of our concepts of our identities and defenses? Are our responses all about us and our egos as opposed to the situation and what needs to be done? Lots of questions--perhaps there is value in just asking them and reflecting on them without arriving at a set answer. Maybe it really is the question that enlightens and not the answer (paraphrasing Eugene Ionesco).
I know from my own experience that it is so easy to get wrapped up in the urgency of work and to lose sight of what really is important--I've left a swath of wrecked relationships due to my own shortsightedness. Maybe this is the change that India has brought? Finally some clarity--took 12,000 miles to break some cycles and look in the mirror. Picking up and leaving my family back in the states wasn't easy to do and adapting to new culture is both invigorating and frustrating. Living here is not as easy, and I see many people suffering and piecing together a pretty mean existence. However, I am so happy here. When I am with my students I feel exhilarated. It's like I had to leave in order to make contact with what I was really about. Get rid of the old patterns, the institutional routine and relationships to really examine what on earth is really important. Having some great feedback from schools, colleagues and kids hasn't hurt either. I don't really need to prove anything anymore. I found contentment and identity. I can be in this moment fully without attaching any of the baggage that I was carrying around before. I love to compete in triathlon, but I have wondered why I was driven so hard to place. Was it really about proving myself more than the adrenaline rush? Did any of my students care if I was in the top 10 or top 1000? Did it improve anything in my relationships with them as their teacher? Does my daughter care? Will she ever? Does it make me a better dad? My heart feels more at ease now. Krishnamutri wrote to the effect that once you find the true self then work is not work but a clear path of appropriate action. Once the narrative you build for yourself is tamed and you can be in the moment, then you can truly be at peace and do what is necessary with ease. I still want to get my doctorate, but it's not a defining drive or desire for status anymore. Never confuse the moment and what is about with what you think you are all about.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
I yell at autorickshaw drivers...
A few Tamil lessons under my belt and I'm dangerous...who is this crazy person? Chennai as home.
Woken up the past week or so and this city feels like home--routine, rhythms, known in my new neighborhood (the people at the grocery store asked if I lived at the serviced apartments down the street--the owner of the apartments also owns the grocery store). I don't feel like a visitor--I can cross the street like a local (for anyone who visits, this is an act of courage, faith and sheer attitude). I finally secured Tamil lessons so I can communicate better here, and this helps feel more at home; however there was an incident to make sure I don't get a big head about this. More about that below. Suffice it to say I wish someone had caught it on video.
If you read the guide books, they warn you about the autorickshaws. I've been taking the autorickshaws since I arrived and feel pretty comfortable with the negotiations--I've walked away from plenty, I've been followed by plenty "Saar, saar--70 rupee...saar, saar--60 rupee). I usually get a good deal judging by my friends' negotiations, but I'm probably still getting fleeced. The whole not getting a good deal used to really get under my skin at times--felt like if I were a true Chennaite I should be able to haggle with ease and get the driver down to the lowest possible price (the iron law of autorickshaws tariffs?). I've softened since I drove past where many of the auto drivers lived on my way to the airport. I don't sweat the 10 rupee here or there. I'm sorry if I'm making it harder for people who live here permanently but my pale complexion makes me an automatic target for a rip-off. This isn't the typical Westerner position--I have much, therefore I can lose some here or there. It's more of the human-hearted compassion thing. Instead of seeing the drivers as the scourge of the city--rats with wheels--I try to see the man and empathize (not pity or sympathize--these are value-laden). I smile more when I approach a driver and talk with them, pay attention to the scenery, try to laugh a bit. It's dumb but why make the world a harder place? My experience here by-and-large has shown that a smile and laugh opens more doors and lightens my world as well.
So back to the incident--what exactly happened? I had one Tamil lesson under my belt and I was ready to use it. In class we went over how to negotiate with a taxi driver and I went home and memorized the dialogue. I was on my way to my gym and then to work. I had my bags slung over my shoulders, Sambas, sunglasses, Adidas basketball shorts--all I needed was a hamburger and an American flag draped around my shoulders to be more of a stereotype. I made a bee-line for a driver outside the Park Sheraton (posh Western hotel here) and upon making eye-contact I fire off "auto veruma?" and he looks at me and says "do you need a ride?" Not to be deterred I keep plunging ahead with my Tamil "Isha Life, Nageswara Park ponum." He continues "Mylapore? By Nageswara Park?" I come back with "evallavu?" and he says "150 rupees" with a broad grin (an outrageous price for a 2.5 km ride--its about a 30 minute walk). "Jastee--40 rupees" I say and he comes back with "No, it's a very long way and I have very good service..." The two of us were going to use the languages we needed to practice and neither one of us would be deterred. I'm sure the people around us were getting a laugh out of all of it--the American persisting in Tamil, the driver continuing in English. I was the first to break--I had run off my map--and I lost it. "I go this way everyday it's 2 km, the rate is 14 rupees per km!"--then I storm off and find another driver. Yeah, I'm the lunatic yelling guy on TTK Road. Kind of a bad couple of days with the autorickshaw--the following day I was going to the Krishnamutri Foundation for a seminar. I got an auto and had an agreed on price. As we were getting up to speed, the driver looks over his shoulder, smiles and ups the price by 20 rupees. I grab my bag, mutter that I'm outta here, and make to jump out of the taxi. The driver freaks and says "okokokokok, I'm not in this for the money. When do you want me to pick you up?" What have I become? Life is weird but fun sometimes if you just stop and look around.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Rotary Speech--October 26, 2010
Dr. Ranganathan asked me to speak about my capstone project to her Rotary Club. Here's the speech if anyone is curious about the project and my motivations.
Introduction and DAT program
Namaskar, Vanakkam, Hari om--
En per Douglas Kennedy. En oor Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States. Enge veede Alwarpetle, Chennai irukke. Enakku Tamil konjambadhaan theriyum.
My name is Douglas Kennedy and am a Distinguished Fulbright Award in Teaching grantee based here in Chennai. My capstone project is entitled “Theory of Knowledge as a Bridge for Cultural Understanding.” I come from Minnesota, where the snow will be flying in a couple of weeks and will be hip deep in a month. Here are some pictures of my town—it’s a very green place with lakes both in and surrounding the city, lots of walking and bike paths (later ski trails in the winter). People live outdoors in the summer—mainly because winter lasts for six months—you’ll see families boating, biking and playing sports together. The Mississippi River runs through it as well. I’m as you can see a proud family man. My wife and I have been married for 14 years and we have a 5 year old little girl who is crazy about animals, books, dragons, beautiful dresses and swords. My family will be joining me here very soon. We’ll be pulling my daughter out of her International Baccalaureate school and my wife will be taking a leave from her job to come and experience south India. My daughter Madeleine is particularly excited about seeing elephants and a beach.
A little background on my program and we’ll get into the project—the Fulbright program I am part of is new and is only in its second year. For the 2010-11 school year, 12 highly qualified US teachers were chosen to undertake research projects in India, South Africa, Finland, the UK, Argentina, Mexico and Singapore. 17 international teachers were also selected and are presently studying and housed on the University of Maryland campus. Projects for all of us range from the use of toys in physics instruction, application Vedic mathematic principles to my project on cultural understanding.
Background
This project is a crossroads on a journey that started 6 years ago with a novel. In my Theory of Knowledge classes, the students read Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance—a popular book in the 1970s that many of their parents read. The book is interesting for a couple of reasons. First, the author wrote the book in Minneapolis and his many motorcycle rides took him around the lake where most of my students live—they recognize the landmarks. Second the book raises some interesting questions about knowledge—the differences between the artistic mind and the scientific, Eastern vs. Western, emotion and intuition as opposed to reason and rationalism. Many of the students have not questioned the bases of knowledge—for example, the science that the learned from their elementary years was Truth, with a capital T, timeless and unwavering in its certainty. They read this book and suddenly their world is in flux. It’s like the solid ground under their feet suddenly started to shift. Most students find the book a challenge and intriguing, especially after we dissect and discuss it. All these questions are now swimming through their heads and they see that this class is going to be different. Two questions really stick with them.
The first question deals with identity and I start every year with it. On day one of class I ask “Who are you and how do you know it?” The course is often referred to as intellectual narcissism—perfect for 17 and 18 year olds, they get to think and talk about their favorite topic, namely themselves. However this question stumps them. The body and mind they’ve owned or inhabited for their entire lives now is being looked at in a different ways. They talk about their physical characteristics, their gender, their birth certificates, parents. By and large the responses are pretty shallow—they haven’t had to think about this topic. I up the ante by following it with “Why should you care about this question if at all?” Now the quizzical looks begin, some stock answers and borrowed wisdom (a couple say “Know thyself” of “To thine ownself be true” but can’t really say why it’s important). We turn to the text for guidance. In the book, two narrators lodged in the same body compete for the reader’s attention and control over the narrative. The students begin to question: who is the narrator? Is he sane? How would he know? Who deems whether an individual is sane or not? Which voice is credible? The pieces start to click together.
The other question that arises is about culture and knowledge—the baggage that the we all carry around with us but may not necessarily be conscious of until we travel abroad. The author studied Oriental philosophy at Banaras Hindu University in Varanasi. The experience had a tremendous impact on the author and it marks the beginning of a transformation in his thinking (quote on p. 141). The passage later goes on to talk about how these ideas would stick with him. The narrator who was dominated by logic alone starts to wonder about the roots of his knowledge and the limits of it. In essence he is questioning the underlying assumptions and beliefs of his knowledge, the cultural components. How can different views exist about truth? Why is reason so entrenched in the West? This questioning, according to the narrator at least, leads to him being deemed insane. The personality or the side of the narrator that sought to find the limits of reason and reconcile Eastern and Western knowledge is eradicated by electroshock therapy. I don’t want to ruin the book for anyone, there are a couple of interesting twists and turns in the rest of the novel, but you’ll have to find out what happens next on your own. I know they have the book at Landmark (an engineering friend of mine just purchased a copy two weeks ago). The students at this point start to wonder about what ideas and beliefs they haven’t examined, and why they see the world the way they do.
It was my students who pushed me. I wanted to do a better job teaching this novel so I started to read—first a companion to the novel, then Eastern philosophy. The students wanted to know more about the local connections and many of them had seen the Zen Center on one of the lakes in the city and had questions about connections to the novel. I sent out e-mails asking if anyone knew about the context of the novel or would be willing to be a community expert on the book or Zen beliefs and practice. A former college professor answered my query. Erik it turned out was Pirsig’s friend and one of the founders of the Zen Center along with the author. He knew the book well and many of the stories associated with it. He comes each year to speak to the classes about the author, its context in history and then takes them through a Zen meditation session. From conversations with Erik, I pursued a course in Zen meditation and philosophy and even began to meditate at his house. I learned a lot, but still I felt like I could do better at walking the walk as we say. Had I really examined what I knew and what lay behind these ideas and concepts? Had I modeled appropriately the curious mind or what it means to critically examine ideas?
Wondered about the course as well—what was the purpose? What were the outcomes for this international curriculum and why put a course like ToK in the center of it? I had my own opinions about it, but I knew that perhaps these were laden with some assumptions. As these questions, both from the novel and my, I guess we could call them meta-thoughts, thoughts about my thinking and teaching craft the idea for this project were devised. I wanted to see how the course was taught in a setting much different from mine, if possible in settings where cultural values were explicitly part of the mission or curriculum. I wanted to talk to teachers and administrators about how they saw the course and its purpose. More importantly I wanted to connect my students to the experience so they could learn. This latter part also stemmed from my students’ lack of knowledge about India but also a more idealistic place as well. I believe it is far more difficult to misjudge or misunderstand someone if you know them. Hate is built out of ignorance and peace is a product of understanding and the ability to empathize with another. I see my students as the future leaders in the world—they go to Ivy League schools, emerge as business executives and researchers. The world, as Thomas Friedman has successfully penned, is flat and our students will come into ever increasing contact with people different from themselves. I wanted to help ensure that the future would be in good hands—even if it was in some small way, I wanted to do something. To not, given my capacity, was ethically irresponsible.
The project
The project has 3 components: site visits, online platform for discussion and assignments or the curriculum piece, assessment of learning. Ideally, and this is still in the works, an exchange program between schools will result. For the American students this would take place in the late summer or early fall, and for the Indian students this will take place in May (they thought this would be a great time to be in a cooler climate).
The site visits are to gather data about other IB programs and their approaches to teaching Theory of Knowledge. While at the sites, I interview principals about the nuts about bolts of their program, their vision for the role and placement of ToK. I also interview the ToK teachers about more curriculum specific items such as how they address self-knowledge and culture. For some of these schools, like Chinmaya, the cultural component is an explicit part of the school vision and program. The question then becomes, what is the outcome of the program and how do you balance seemingly competing interests? While at the schools I also conduct teacher training sessions on Theory of Knowledge, writing workshops, teach and observe ToK classes and interview groups of students about their ToK experience. The site visits help formulate a spine of sorts to my project—models for how different schools approach the curriculum. I also visited non-IB schools that address the cultural issue or that utilize alternative approaches—schools like The School and the Isha Home School. I have also met with teacher training programs to see how Indian teachers are prepared. Again, all of these provide a grounding in the structure and variety of education in-country.
The next component is the work being conducted right now with the students at M. Ct. M. Chidambaram Chettyar International School. In conjunction with the Theory of Knowledge teacher at M. Ct. M., an online platform was set up to connect students here with my students in Minnesota. Each student has a profile post with their picture and a short writing assignment to introduce them to the rest of the group. The website also has a place for students to post photos, links, an online assignment drop box and a discussion board where they can respond to questions and each other’s writings. Right now we are incorporating themes about culture and cultural adaptation to our classroom work in order to get the students to think about the things that make them who they are and how these influence knowledge claims. The students will be responding to questions like:
• Examine the ToK diagram—the knower is in the center, why?
What can we know about ourselves?
Sources?
Types of evidence?
Is the knowledge reliable? Why/not?
Are the sources reliable? Why/not?
• IB is an international curriculum—what does that mean?
• How do societies value the individual?
What about groups, like families or tribes?
What are the gender roles?
What about familial roles?
What is the relationship of the individual to society?
• How does the past influence the present?
What are the big events or who are the significant players and how they
fit into the consciousness?
Additionally, the students will be working on readings and participating in seminars to help them push their thinking about what can be known and the influence of culture such as Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s “In a Grove” (and the film by Akira Kurosawa “Roshomon”) and an excerpt from Pirsig’s novel about ghosts. Periodic smaller assessments will be added to help the students identify knowledge issues and to shore up weaknesses.
Their final assessment will be a knower’s profile. This consists of a paper or portfolio (could also be a presentation) that answers the following questions
• What are the sources of our knowledge?
May consider parents, culture, race, school, friends, books,
media, authorities…
Sources must be explained—what knowledge do they give us?
• Why do we trust them?
Responses require explanation for why we consider the source trustworthy
• Where do these sources get their knowledge? Where does it come from?
And by extension, this implies my knowledge
May want to consider traditions, beliefs, prophets, holy books, primary
sources, teachers, the media…
• What are some of the knowledge issues that arise?
The assessments will be graded based on the level of reflection that goes into their responses and attention to the implications of their points. The papers and the online responses will be analyzed for changes over time in the students thinking—how well do they see themselves at the beginning of the unit, versus the end, for example. Ideally, the connections that the students build up over the year from the online component (discussions and presentations over Skype will be undertaken after I return to the US) will facilitate an exchange of students where they can really interact. Meeting face to face is different than writing on Facebook or our site. Just the amount of time together provides an opportunity to continue the discussions and really get to know the people who were on the other side of the Internet connection. There’s something profound about breaking bread together or the pride that comes in sharing your home that deepens the connection and understanding between people.
To close this evening, I wanted to share two quotes with you that helped motivate me as I’ve encountered stumbling blocks and doubt along this journey. Both were cited in a book I just finished, AJP Abdul Kalam’s Ignited Minds—
“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.” (Goethe)—from the chapter on Visionary Scientists and Teachers
“Men often become what they believe themselves to be. If I believe I cannot do something, it makes me incapable of doing it. But when I believe I can, then I acquire the ability to do it even if I didn’t have it in the beginning.” (Mahatma Gandhi) –from the chapter on Role Models
I dream about a world for my daughter where conflict, poverty and disease are handled by a community of individuals who can put understanding first and divisions second. This is a starting point for my contribution to that vision. Thank you for letting me speak with you this evening. Pranams. I believe we have some time for questions.
Introduction and DAT program
Namaskar, Vanakkam, Hari om--
En per Douglas Kennedy. En oor Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States. Enge veede Alwarpetle, Chennai irukke. Enakku Tamil konjambadhaan theriyum.
My name is Douglas Kennedy and am a Distinguished Fulbright Award in Teaching grantee based here in Chennai. My capstone project is entitled “Theory of Knowledge as a Bridge for Cultural Understanding.” I come from Minnesota, where the snow will be flying in a couple of weeks and will be hip deep in a month. Here are some pictures of my town—it’s a very green place with lakes both in and surrounding the city, lots of walking and bike paths (later ski trails in the winter). People live outdoors in the summer—mainly because winter lasts for six months—you’ll see families boating, biking and playing sports together. The Mississippi River runs through it as well. I’m as you can see a proud family man. My wife and I have been married for 14 years and we have a 5 year old little girl who is crazy about animals, books, dragons, beautiful dresses and swords. My family will be joining me here very soon. We’ll be pulling my daughter out of her International Baccalaureate school and my wife will be taking a leave from her job to come and experience south India. My daughter Madeleine is particularly excited about seeing elephants and a beach.
A little background on my program and we’ll get into the project—the Fulbright program I am part of is new and is only in its second year. For the 2010-11 school year, 12 highly qualified US teachers were chosen to undertake research projects in India, South Africa, Finland, the UK, Argentina, Mexico and Singapore. 17 international teachers were also selected and are presently studying and housed on the University of Maryland campus. Projects for all of us range from the use of toys in physics instruction, application Vedic mathematic principles to my project on cultural understanding.
Background
This project is a crossroads on a journey that started 6 years ago with a novel. In my Theory of Knowledge classes, the students read Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance—a popular book in the 1970s that many of their parents read. The book is interesting for a couple of reasons. First, the author wrote the book in Minneapolis and his many motorcycle rides took him around the lake where most of my students live—they recognize the landmarks. Second the book raises some interesting questions about knowledge—the differences between the artistic mind and the scientific, Eastern vs. Western, emotion and intuition as opposed to reason and rationalism. Many of the students have not questioned the bases of knowledge—for example, the science that the learned from their elementary years was Truth, with a capital T, timeless and unwavering in its certainty. They read this book and suddenly their world is in flux. It’s like the solid ground under their feet suddenly started to shift. Most students find the book a challenge and intriguing, especially after we dissect and discuss it. All these questions are now swimming through their heads and they see that this class is going to be different. Two questions really stick with them.
The first question deals with identity and I start every year with it. On day one of class I ask “Who are you and how do you know it?” The course is often referred to as intellectual narcissism—perfect for 17 and 18 year olds, they get to think and talk about their favorite topic, namely themselves. However this question stumps them. The body and mind they’ve owned or inhabited for their entire lives now is being looked at in a different ways. They talk about their physical characteristics, their gender, their birth certificates, parents. By and large the responses are pretty shallow—they haven’t had to think about this topic. I up the ante by following it with “Why should you care about this question if at all?” Now the quizzical looks begin, some stock answers and borrowed wisdom (a couple say “Know thyself” of “To thine ownself be true” but can’t really say why it’s important). We turn to the text for guidance. In the book, two narrators lodged in the same body compete for the reader’s attention and control over the narrative. The students begin to question: who is the narrator? Is he sane? How would he know? Who deems whether an individual is sane or not? Which voice is credible? The pieces start to click together.
The other question that arises is about culture and knowledge—the baggage that the we all carry around with us but may not necessarily be conscious of until we travel abroad. The author studied Oriental philosophy at Banaras Hindu University in Varanasi. The experience had a tremendous impact on the author and it marks the beginning of a transformation in his thinking (quote on p. 141). The passage later goes on to talk about how these ideas would stick with him. The narrator who was dominated by logic alone starts to wonder about the roots of his knowledge and the limits of it. In essence he is questioning the underlying assumptions and beliefs of his knowledge, the cultural components. How can different views exist about truth? Why is reason so entrenched in the West? This questioning, according to the narrator at least, leads to him being deemed insane. The personality or the side of the narrator that sought to find the limits of reason and reconcile Eastern and Western knowledge is eradicated by electroshock therapy. I don’t want to ruin the book for anyone, there are a couple of interesting twists and turns in the rest of the novel, but you’ll have to find out what happens next on your own. I know they have the book at Landmark (an engineering friend of mine just purchased a copy two weeks ago). The students at this point start to wonder about what ideas and beliefs they haven’t examined, and why they see the world the way they do.
It was my students who pushed me. I wanted to do a better job teaching this novel so I started to read—first a companion to the novel, then Eastern philosophy. The students wanted to know more about the local connections and many of them had seen the Zen Center on one of the lakes in the city and had questions about connections to the novel. I sent out e-mails asking if anyone knew about the context of the novel or would be willing to be a community expert on the book or Zen beliefs and practice. A former college professor answered my query. Erik it turned out was Pirsig’s friend and one of the founders of the Zen Center along with the author. He knew the book well and many of the stories associated with it. He comes each year to speak to the classes about the author, its context in history and then takes them through a Zen meditation session. From conversations with Erik, I pursued a course in Zen meditation and philosophy and even began to meditate at his house. I learned a lot, but still I felt like I could do better at walking the walk as we say. Had I really examined what I knew and what lay behind these ideas and concepts? Had I modeled appropriately the curious mind or what it means to critically examine ideas?
Wondered about the course as well—what was the purpose? What were the outcomes for this international curriculum and why put a course like ToK in the center of it? I had my own opinions about it, but I knew that perhaps these were laden with some assumptions. As these questions, both from the novel and my, I guess we could call them meta-thoughts, thoughts about my thinking and teaching craft the idea for this project were devised. I wanted to see how the course was taught in a setting much different from mine, if possible in settings where cultural values were explicitly part of the mission or curriculum. I wanted to talk to teachers and administrators about how they saw the course and its purpose. More importantly I wanted to connect my students to the experience so they could learn. This latter part also stemmed from my students’ lack of knowledge about India but also a more idealistic place as well. I believe it is far more difficult to misjudge or misunderstand someone if you know them. Hate is built out of ignorance and peace is a product of understanding and the ability to empathize with another. I see my students as the future leaders in the world—they go to Ivy League schools, emerge as business executives and researchers. The world, as Thomas Friedman has successfully penned, is flat and our students will come into ever increasing contact with people different from themselves. I wanted to help ensure that the future would be in good hands—even if it was in some small way, I wanted to do something. To not, given my capacity, was ethically irresponsible.
The project
The project has 3 components: site visits, online platform for discussion and assignments or the curriculum piece, assessment of learning. Ideally, and this is still in the works, an exchange program between schools will result. For the American students this would take place in the late summer or early fall, and for the Indian students this will take place in May (they thought this would be a great time to be in a cooler climate).
The site visits are to gather data about other IB programs and their approaches to teaching Theory of Knowledge. While at the sites, I interview principals about the nuts about bolts of their program, their vision for the role and placement of ToK. I also interview the ToK teachers about more curriculum specific items such as how they address self-knowledge and culture. For some of these schools, like Chinmaya, the cultural component is an explicit part of the school vision and program. The question then becomes, what is the outcome of the program and how do you balance seemingly competing interests? While at the schools I also conduct teacher training sessions on Theory of Knowledge, writing workshops, teach and observe ToK classes and interview groups of students about their ToK experience. The site visits help formulate a spine of sorts to my project—models for how different schools approach the curriculum. I also visited non-IB schools that address the cultural issue or that utilize alternative approaches—schools like The School and the Isha Home School. I have also met with teacher training programs to see how Indian teachers are prepared. Again, all of these provide a grounding in the structure and variety of education in-country.
The next component is the work being conducted right now with the students at M. Ct. M. Chidambaram Chettyar International School. In conjunction with the Theory of Knowledge teacher at M. Ct. M., an online platform was set up to connect students here with my students in Minnesota. Each student has a profile post with their picture and a short writing assignment to introduce them to the rest of the group. The website also has a place for students to post photos, links, an online assignment drop box and a discussion board where they can respond to questions and each other’s writings. Right now we are incorporating themes about culture and cultural adaptation to our classroom work in order to get the students to think about the things that make them who they are and how these influence knowledge claims. The students will be responding to questions like:
• Examine the ToK diagram—the knower is in the center, why?
What can we know about ourselves?
Sources?
Types of evidence?
Is the knowledge reliable? Why/not?
Are the sources reliable? Why/not?
• IB is an international curriculum—what does that mean?
• How do societies value the individual?
What about groups, like families or tribes?
What are the gender roles?
What about familial roles?
What is the relationship of the individual to society?
• How does the past influence the present?
What are the big events or who are the significant players and how they
fit into the consciousness?
Additionally, the students will be working on readings and participating in seminars to help them push their thinking about what can be known and the influence of culture such as Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s “In a Grove” (and the film by Akira Kurosawa “Roshomon”) and an excerpt from Pirsig’s novel about ghosts. Periodic smaller assessments will be added to help the students identify knowledge issues and to shore up weaknesses.
Their final assessment will be a knower’s profile. This consists of a paper or portfolio (could also be a presentation) that answers the following questions
• What are the sources of our knowledge?
May consider parents, culture, race, school, friends, books,
media, authorities…
Sources must be explained—what knowledge do they give us?
• Why do we trust them?
Responses require explanation for why we consider the source trustworthy
• Where do these sources get their knowledge? Where does it come from?
And by extension, this implies my knowledge
May want to consider traditions, beliefs, prophets, holy books, primary
sources, teachers, the media…
• What are some of the knowledge issues that arise?
The assessments will be graded based on the level of reflection that goes into their responses and attention to the implications of their points. The papers and the online responses will be analyzed for changes over time in the students thinking—how well do they see themselves at the beginning of the unit, versus the end, for example. Ideally, the connections that the students build up over the year from the online component (discussions and presentations over Skype will be undertaken after I return to the US) will facilitate an exchange of students where they can really interact. Meeting face to face is different than writing on Facebook or our site. Just the amount of time together provides an opportunity to continue the discussions and really get to know the people who were on the other side of the Internet connection. There’s something profound about breaking bread together or the pride that comes in sharing your home that deepens the connection and understanding between people.
To close this evening, I wanted to share two quotes with you that helped motivate me as I’ve encountered stumbling blocks and doubt along this journey. Both were cited in a book I just finished, AJP Abdul Kalam’s Ignited Minds—
“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.” (Goethe)—from the chapter on Visionary Scientists and Teachers
“Men often become what they believe themselves to be. If I believe I cannot do something, it makes me incapable of doing it. But when I believe I can, then I acquire the ability to do it even if I didn’t have it in the beginning.” (Mahatma Gandhi) –from the chapter on Role Models
I dream about a world for my daughter where conflict, poverty and disease are handled by a community of individuals who can put understanding first and divisions second. This is a starting point for my contribution to that vision. Thank you for letting me speak with you this evening. Pranams. I believe we have some time for questions.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Culture questions and self-knowledge
Incomplete thoughts--October 14, 2010. Heading to Coimbatore again...
Phone is sick and in surgery in Bangalore, spent 4 hours (plus one other person doing the same) with customer help, felt sick—no sleep for weeks, night sweats—still not much help on the ground here. I feel fine now.
Culture
What is it and what defines it? Can talk about the easy stuff—the institutions, the food, the traditions. However, the role of it inside the individual and how it affects their outlook and life is a wholly different matter. We usually see culture when it is in collision—trying to understand why the standard for punctuality is different, for example—but rarely do we take a look at our own culture as the source or at the very least a contributor factor, of that collision. It seems that this lack of awareness of our selves leads to conflict, but we lack the ability or practice to see what we are and then make reasoned and clear-minded comparisons. Perhaps this is best seen as the difference between a reaction and an exchange or conversation. The latter leads to understanding—there is a reference point (the self), the ability to or platform to ask a question (conversation), and perhaps then an implied openness to see difference and experience it—the former, misunderstanding and confusion or frustration and even aggression.
So here’s the problem—where do you get the self-knowledge? Where do you learn to understand who you are and what makes you you? We are taught in social studies classes about our history and government, but that seems to be without the necessary reflective component. Sometimes values are talked about, but how is this made to be personal—where does the culture meet the person and how does it resonate or fill them?
When we travel and live abroad, we encounter things that are different and our colleagues look at our behavior and mannerisms and try to make sense of them (is this a boor or just an American—where does the culture end and the person begin?). It’s in this collision that some of what makes our culture apparent—the housekeeping staff’s horror at my reaching for the trash bin under my sink or fetching towels out of my bathroom, my hosts insistence that I sit at the table and not move an inch and allow myself to be waited upon, my reaction at how societal superiors treat those beneath them…
The value that all men are created equal resonated with my sense of justice when studying the American Civil Rights Movement, but I didn’t realize how ingrained it was—a part of my culture and identity—until I came to India. This value of mine bumps up against some cultural and historical obstacles—but I had to think about why it was painful or confusing to see. This reflection—thinking about what it means to be an American—helped me to digest what I was seeing rather than just being horrified or repulsed. It is neither good nor bad--this is not for me to decide--it is different and needs to be understood. It’s the value judgements--repulsion or rejection--that leads to problem like stereotyping (“such and such culture is barbaric…look how they treat x!”) and even conflict. I've started reading more about India--Abdul Kalam's autobiography and Ignite Minds, Sen's The Argumentative Indian: writings on Indian culture, history and identity.
So what makes a culture? What can we take away from situations where we react to differences? How do societies value the individual? What about groups, like families or tribes? What are the gender roles? What about familial roles? What is the relationship of the individual to society? How is property viewed? How are guests to be treated? How does the past influence the present? What are the big events or who are the significant players and how they fit into the consciousness? Which subjects are taboos? What about behaviors?
Stuck between two—range of things have been said to me: we’ll make an Indian of you yet, you are already mostly Indian, now you see the India beyond the exotic, my countrymen fall over themselves when they see white skin (present company excluded for insight? Am I “in” so you can tell me this, or is our friendship suspect?). So what does this mean?
Fulbright experience
Read an article about Greg LeMond today--was waiting for a haircut. He's a local guy in the western suburbs of Minneapolis (I see him occasionally skiing) who just happened to be the first American who won the Tour de France. Forgot that he had been shot in the back and won his second title with 37 shotgun pellets still in his back (including several lodged in his heart lining). This hunting accident also was followed by two surgeries to fix other issues like tendonitis in one of his legs. He was expected to maybe place in the top 20, but he won that year. I think that article was there for a reason--it's not the hardship that makes the person, it is the recovery. Even the small mishaps in our daily lives like a crap day at work or fender-bender or an argument with a loved one—it’s how we recover and what we do differently to show up for those that we care about and be the person we which to put forward. I really think this is what makes us happy—you really live for those whom you care about and must respect who you are. Human beings have an incredible capacity to remake themselves and to control their happiness to a large degree. I was worried about barking at a couple of friends as well as focusing on the negatives of this journey. I got so bogged down in the immediate problems and the stresses that I lost perspective of what was really important both for me personally and for this project. I had a steak and mango ice cream for dinner, then in the morning I made sure I meditated, a worked out, and had some talks with a couple of friends to apologize for being jerky. Recovery attained. The issues that had me bent out of shape were over (one is at least manageable—I hate Vodafone), my friends are still my friends and I am grateful for them, my trip has been an amazing experience. I learned. As a friend pointed out in an e-mail—remember, you are here which also means that someone else did not get the experience. One of my other friends commented that he lives sort of vicariously through my updates. It’s not that I have an obligation to these others to be superhuman, but it did help pull my head out of the mud and really look at the big picture. My wife has commented to co-workers about the conversations that have happened as part of this journey—they are stunned and amazed by them. I’ve seen temples and stunning wilderness, met interesting people, dined on amazing food and learned so much in such a short period of time. How can I be blue over the trivial? Ah, yes—life lesson learned.
In one a text message frenzy today a friend wise friend who has been my guru and patient listener wrote “…if the big things feel like they are not happening, the emptiness and small things have a lot of potential.” When I was in Pondicherry I went through a bout of pretty profound traveler’s melancholy and could feel myself withdraw. This experience in India has had frustrations with housing, some isolation (I arrived, made friends, set up a routine and then we had a 3 week vacation), some issues with my grant and difficulties getting access to research sites. So what do I take away from this experience so far? Well, maybe not to sweat the small stuff as much. I have a choice—explore and realize my time is limited here or hide in my routine and miss out. With the small stuff, I can’t let my irritation get the best of me—I know that I was not good about this at MHS especially as department chair. I let other people’s issues weigh on me and I ruminated over and over about things. I really only hurt myself. I’ve learned to be a lot more outgoing—not really an issue before, but being several thousand miles from home does bring out the more gregarious side for some reason. Found that I am much more of a people person than I thought I was—and I’ve been much more open to others and what they have to offer. Some of this is probably from finally being able to emerge from the stress I had put myself under for the past 10+ years. Really thinking I don’t need to race anymore. I like the competition and maybe I’ll enter a few tris or ski races for that reason, but I don’t really have to prove anything to anyone. I don’t think it made me a better teacher or a better husband or a better dad. It just made me busier and added some stress. Why add more? The other thing that has been made very apparent is how this trip has solidified my place in teaching. In an unfamiliar place, the students are the constant or the connection to what my life in the US was like—they are familiar and grounding. My best moments here have been when I have been with kids or see a student of mine on the street. I’ve been welcomed by other schools and recognized for good work—this helped ease some of the self-doubt and pressure I had been putting on myself for a long time. Teaching last year—especially the ToK classes—was fun. But this feels different. It’s a lightness of being. It seems to hit the big aspects of my being and the work or extra time is not effort it is just done because I can do it. When I was in Pondi, I heard about a former student that was having a rough go with homesickness. This was the time that I was experiencing it myself—traveling by myself, missed my daughter, just coming off some drama, needed routine—and I had just had an amazing conversation with my sister about how she dealt with the same symptoms when she travels alone on research. I sent the student and e-mail talking about my experience and extended an offer to talk if she wanted it. It was not a question of time; it was not a question at all. I had the capacity or ability so it is done.
I seem to have come half-way around the world to learn more about myself as I study how others teach others about learning about themselves (deliberately scrambly). There are a couple of people reading this blog who are probably grinning (do I detect a smugness?) when they read this. I am different now. I’ve perhaps got a better sense of my identity, the meaning of fulfillment and the ability to let go.
Phone is sick and in surgery in Bangalore, spent 4 hours (plus one other person doing the same) with customer help, felt sick—no sleep for weeks, night sweats—still not much help on the ground here. I feel fine now.
Culture
What is it and what defines it? Can talk about the easy stuff—the institutions, the food, the traditions. However, the role of it inside the individual and how it affects their outlook and life is a wholly different matter. We usually see culture when it is in collision—trying to understand why the standard for punctuality is different, for example—but rarely do we take a look at our own culture as the source or at the very least a contributor factor, of that collision. It seems that this lack of awareness of our selves leads to conflict, but we lack the ability or practice to see what we are and then make reasoned and clear-minded comparisons. Perhaps this is best seen as the difference between a reaction and an exchange or conversation. The latter leads to understanding—there is a reference point (the self), the ability to or platform to ask a question (conversation), and perhaps then an implied openness to see difference and experience it—the former, misunderstanding and confusion or frustration and even aggression.
So here’s the problem—where do you get the self-knowledge? Where do you learn to understand who you are and what makes you you? We are taught in social studies classes about our history and government, but that seems to be without the necessary reflective component. Sometimes values are talked about, but how is this made to be personal—where does the culture meet the person and how does it resonate or fill them?
When we travel and live abroad, we encounter things that are different and our colleagues look at our behavior and mannerisms and try to make sense of them (is this a boor or just an American—where does the culture end and the person begin?). It’s in this collision that some of what makes our culture apparent—the housekeeping staff’s horror at my reaching for the trash bin under my sink or fetching towels out of my bathroom, my hosts insistence that I sit at the table and not move an inch and allow myself to be waited upon, my reaction at how societal superiors treat those beneath them…
The value that all men are created equal resonated with my sense of justice when studying the American Civil Rights Movement, but I didn’t realize how ingrained it was—a part of my culture and identity—until I came to India. This value of mine bumps up against some cultural and historical obstacles—but I had to think about why it was painful or confusing to see. This reflection—thinking about what it means to be an American—helped me to digest what I was seeing rather than just being horrified or repulsed. It is neither good nor bad--this is not for me to decide--it is different and needs to be understood. It’s the value judgements--repulsion or rejection--that leads to problem like stereotyping (“such and such culture is barbaric…look how they treat x!”) and even conflict. I've started reading more about India--Abdul Kalam's autobiography and Ignite Minds, Sen's The Argumentative Indian: writings on Indian culture, history and identity.
So what makes a culture? What can we take away from situations where we react to differences? How do societies value the individual? What about groups, like families or tribes? What are the gender roles? What about familial roles? What is the relationship of the individual to society? How is property viewed? How are guests to be treated? How does the past influence the present? What are the big events or who are the significant players and how they fit into the consciousness? Which subjects are taboos? What about behaviors?
Stuck between two—range of things have been said to me: we’ll make an Indian of you yet, you are already mostly Indian, now you see the India beyond the exotic, my countrymen fall over themselves when they see white skin (present company excluded for insight? Am I “in” so you can tell me this, or is our friendship suspect?). So what does this mean?
Fulbright experience
Read an article about Greg LeMond today--was waiting for a haircut. He's a local guy in the western suburbs of Minneapolis (I see him occasionally skiing) who just happened to be the first American who won the Tour de France. Forgot that he had been shot in the back and won his second title with 37 shotgun pellets still in his back (including several lodged in his heart lining). This hunting accident also was followed by two surgeries to fix other issues like tendonitis in one of his legs. He was expected to maybe place in the top 20, but he won that year. I think that article was there for a reason--it's not the hardship that makes the person, it is the recovery. Even the small mishaps in our daily lives like a crap day at work or fender-bender or an argument with a loved one—it’s how we recover and what we do differently to show up for those that we care about and be the person we which to put forward. I really think this is what makes us happy—you really live for those whom you care about and must respect who you are. Human beings have an incredible capacity to remake themselves and to control their happiness to a large degree. I was worried about barking at a couple of friends as well as focusing on the negatives of this journey. I got so bogged down in the immediate problems and the stresses that I lost perspective of what was really important both for me personally and for this project. I had a steak and mango ice cream for dinner, then in the morning I made sure I meditated, a worked out, and had some talks with a couple of friends to apologize for being jerky. Recovery attained. The issues that had me bent out of shape were over (one is at least manageable—I hate Vodafone), my friends are still my friends and I am grateful for them, my trip has been an amazing experience. I learned. As a friend pointed out in an e-mail—remember, you are here which also means that someone else did not get the experience. One of my other friends commented that he lives sort of vicariously through my updates. It’s not that I have an obligation to these others to be superhuman, but it did help pull my head out of the mud and really look at the big picture. My wife has commented to co-workers about the conversations that have happened as part of this journey—they are stunned and amazed by them. I’ve seen temples and stunning wilderness, met interesting people, dined on amazing food and learned so much in such a short period of time. How can I be blue over the trivial? Ah, yes—life lesson learned.
In one a text message frenzy today a friend wise friend who has been my guru and patient listener wrote “…if the big things feel like they are not happening, the emptiness and small things have a lot of potential.” When I was in Pondicherry I went through a bout of pretty profound traveler’s melancholy and could feel myself withdraw. This experience in India has had frustrations with housing, some isolation (I arrived, made friends, set up a routine and then we had a 3 week vacation), some issues with my grant and difficulties getting access to research sites. So what do I take away from this experience so far? Well, maybe not to sweat the small stuff as much. I have a choice—explore and realize my time is limited here or hide in my routine and miss out. With the small stuff, I can’t let my irritation get the best of me—I know that I was not good about this at MHS especially as department chair. I let other people’s issues weigh on me and I ruminated over and over about things. I really only hurt myself. I’ve learned to be a lot more outgoing—not really an issue before, but being several thousand miles from home does bring out the more gregarious side for some reason. Found that I am much more of a people person than I thought I was—and I’ve been much more open to others and what they have to offer. Some of this is probably from finally being able to emerge from the stress I had put myself under for the past 10+ years. Really thinking I don’t need to race anymore. I like the competition and maybe I’ll enter a few tris or ski races for that reason, but I don’t really have to prove anything to anyone. I don’t think it made me a better teacher or a better husband or a better dad. It just made me busier and added some stress. Why add more? The other thing that has been made very apparent is how this trip has solidified my place in teaching. In an unfamiliar place, the students are the constant or the connection to what my life in the US was like—they are familiar and grounding. My best moments here have been when I have been with kids or see a student of mine on the street. I’ve been welcomed by other schools and recognized for good work—this helped ease some of the self-doubt and pressure I had been putting on myself for a long time. Teaching last year—especially the ToK classes—was fun. But this feels different. It’s a lightness of being. It seems to hit the big aspects of my being and the work or extra time is not effort it is just done because I can do it. When I was in Pondi, I heard about a former student that was having a rough go with homesickness. This was the time that I was experiencing it myself—traveling by myself, missed my daughter, just coming off some drama, needed routine—and I had just had an amazing conversation with my sister about how she dealt with the same symptoms when she travels alone on research. I sent the student and e-mail talking about my experience and extended an offer to talk if she wanted it. It was not a question of time; it was not a question at all. I had the capacity or ability so it is done.
I seem to have come half-way around the world to learn more about myself as I study how others teach others about learning about themselves (deliberately scrambly). There are a couple of people reading this blog who are probably grinning (do I detect a smugness?) when they read this. I am different now. I’ve perhaps got a better sense of my identity, the meaning of fulfillment and the ability to let go.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Pondicherry--October 11
Hot in the former French colony on the Bay of Bengal--October 2010, vacation away from Chennai, heat came with me.Took a break from scrambling on building connections for my project and destressing from a housing incident--the second one since I got here. I have moved to a different place and hopefully everything will work out. May have been an innocent mistake, but my trust and privacy were violated--had to leave. I have wonderful friends here, though--they really rallied around me and helped. The saying is that "the guest should be treated as a god" and I can't believe the outpouring of support and help that people I barely know offered. India can be a difficult place to experience--the travel books mention it, but really nothing can get you ready for this country of contrasts. Beautiful one minute, brutal the next, but it's the people who make the experience. I think as Westerners, and I include myself in this, we get really hung up on the material things. I have a friend here whom some of my other friends refer to as my "Madras Mom"--but she's the perfect exammple. Usha and I know each other based upon an initial e-mail exchange to Fulbright alums living in Chennai and a friendship was built--we've had dinner, gone to arts perfomances. But the difference is that she checks up on me all the time--when I get on a travel she checks to make sure I am ok on the train or bus (she even wished me a good night), she offers advice when I experience "traveler's melancholy" and homesickness for my family, she listens to my stories about my project. For what? Alot of people have said that India changes you--and I think this could mean a lot of different things based on your experience. To me, I've see the poverty, I've learned alot about spritituality (different than religiosity--big difference) and I've seen places of amazing beauty, but the thing I've learned most about is friendship. Here in Pondi there are a lot of Westerners (mind you this means I've seen more than 2 in a given span of time) --we see each other walking down the streets by the cafes and shops or by the beach. Sometimes there's a nod, but little conversation--a reserve or coldness that I think is just us (big exception is the French restaurant owner I keep bumping into--Franciose--we just had lunch today and a long conversation over tomato salads, camembert sandwiches and Indian coffee). Maybe it comes back to the people here wanting to make guests feel comfortable so they really try to reach out to strangers, but I think it goes deeper. Maybe this comes back to a conversation I had with a man about the Indian mindset--there are so many problems that differences like religion matter less than finding another good person. It's these people that you rely upon to get through the day. I think my "Madras Mom" takes it even further. At the yoga retreat we had to think about what qualities make up the divine, and how we've seen these manifested in other people. I immediately thought about my wife of course--she's been my rock for 14 years, the rational part to my emotional personality (ok, I know any of my former students will laugh when they read that, but guys I have to tell you, your teachers may be different away from the classroom--we'll meet for coffee and discuss it some day) and the person who takes me for who I am, warts and all. I also thought about physical therapist
who didn't just treat my injuries this last year but got the mental side of it. I thought of myself as an athlete and when I couldn't train, when my body was not behaving as I wanted it to, a sort of depression set in. This part of my self was taken away and this was terrifying. So Molly came in at just the right time, when I was so low at times it was frightening, and helped heal my mind (through some amazing conversations that I will never forget) as well as my injuries. Things turned around--I was uplifted (salvaged? saved?) in a time where things looked pretty bleak to me. I learned alot about identity and self as well--don't pin too much on the external things, whether they are material or performances or relationshiops, because they can all be taken away from you in an instant. You really need to look in and see what you are all about and then find joy in that. Strive for excellence in what is true to yourself, but know what really matters and nurture that--the rest is just stuff. Now my friend here gives more to this friendship than I can possibly ever repay--she does it because it is who she is and that she can offer this type of support. She can look into this mind or heart or whatever of mine and relate to it--she's been in the same position when she studied in Minneapolis. Perhaps as she sees it there is a need here, and her responsibility (not in a covnentional prescribed duty sense, but in an opportunity sense--a human-hearted, compassionate sense) to help. She can do this and does this; few other's could relate in the same way, so she does. She could turn away, she could have never answered my initial e-mail, but she didn't and that has made all the difference. I am learning alot.
One comment about Westerners and India. Being in Puducherry (Pondi) has opened my eyes. After my housing issue, I spoke with the owner of my guest house. Besides these two incidents, this man has talked with me at length about India--it's intricacies and politics, culture, spirituality. After he apologized profusely for the what happened, he said something that really stuck with me. Westerners, they see India as exotic, but you know the reality. I've thought about this for days now. It has been in the forefront of my mind as I visit Pondi and Auroville. I'm going to indulge in some stereotyping now. I'm hypersensitive to the men with long hair and flip-flops in that skinny yoga build on mopeds with their girlfriends--women in flowing pants and tank tops, loose ponytails (ready to drop into an asana in a moment's notice!). They see the ashrams and the yoga culture in India. They pass the poverty and the people, but pull up to their modern hotels or sojourn in an ashram. This is the exotic. Now I can't say that I'm different--I live in a modern apartment, I have my Wi-Fi and access to Western food if I want it, and I've been to an ashram for a yoga retreat--but it just kind of irritates the crap out of me now. I am probably coming across as a complete jerk and I shouldn't be so judgmental--seriously, who am I? I've been here for a month now and have worked in a traditional Indian school and lived in a neighborhood where Westerners are as common as snow but that hardly puts me in position to condemn anyone else's choices. Maybe this is the acculturation period--sort of getting used to India and it's rhythms. I guess without the harshness it's just a milestone in my journey here. Live and let live. Converse and share the experience--that's probably all I can do. The ethical dimension of knowledge? Back to ToK land again... Certitude this way, visitiors' center that way.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Land of Butterflies and Dragonflies; Kingdom of the Elephant and the Mansion of the Snake
Reflections on my time at the Isha ashram, Velliangiri Hills--September 30-October 3. Writing after the downpour. A lot to think about.
I am blown away by the staggering beauty of this place. The mountains rise up sharply from the plain, you can see waterfalls descending hundreds of feet--white cuts in the lush green. It is so quiet here. The air smells so fresh--everything seems both calm and alive, vibrant. The drum wakes us at 6 to begin our practice, but I feel so rested despite finishing at 10 the night before and of course then talking with friends and my roommate for at least another hour or two about all that we've thought and experienced during the day before turning out the light. The food has been amazing--fresh, local, made by volunteers. My appetite is voracious and I relish each meal of Keralan dishes and Southern Indian classics. One meal was served on the floor, banana leaves set before us. Sublime. I began to not even miss my daily dose of filter kappi (the delightful strong and milky filter coffee of Chennai). The volunteers strike me as truly remarkable--they do everything here with such care, happiness and selflessness. Every time I go up for another plate of food I'm met with a smile. If I have a question they are present and listen. On the last night, our feet were bathed in hot water infused with flowers. They carried bucket after bucket of very hot water to refill our tubs filled with flower petals and river stones. Cheerfulness the whole while. I know that a several day retreat cannot change the world but I do see some changes in me and I certainly have learned things--even if they are not the explicit topics covered by our instructor. I don't think that I ever want to go back to Chennai. Part of this is completely understandable--no work here, no responsibility except to learn, do yoga, be pampered and take in the scenery. However, maybe I need to listen to what my heart is saying, maybe I'm still a country boy--as silly as that may sound. I really like the Cities and the roots we've set down, but I do feel so much more at peace with the world and my self when I'm in these natural settings.
So what to make of all of this? Good question--and it will take a bit to get my head around this. I'm sure as I continue my meditation and yoga practice I'll perhaps have a better sense. Initially here, the delivery really got to me--can't turn the ToK brain off. I have a difficult time with yes and no, either-or types of statements. I prefer a conversation--let me see the reasoning or thinking before I accept. The Latin root of conversation is conversarii--which means to turn around in one's mind. This is my preferred method and I know I get hung-up when I am just presented material. I know that I bucked a lot of what was being presented--I wanted to know more, wanted to talk about how it fit with other traditions if only for the basis of comparison (my own brain kept coming back to Zen, the Dalai Lama, my own experience as an athlete or having to wrestle with concepts of identity and truth. This internal questioning and curiosity--which I could shut off when I was in session, but kept coming back when I was out--finally seemed to evaporate on the last day during the last session. Up to this point, I sometimes felt like I was missing something--seeing Nivas in his revelry I felt like such an outsider beyond my obvious outward appearance, culture and traditions. During that last session I think I finally got it. The dots connected, I was ready to let it in and just be. No divisions, just existence in the moment. It felt wonderful. I'm still a skeptic and a seeker, but I can't discount this experience, the conversations and my experience here. Theres' been such a common thread to it all--a unity of thinking. One reader will certainly want to talk about this issue I know, I don't know if I buy into gurus, but I really thinking about this unity, the oneness and the now. I see the limits of a world that is all reason or one that is all emotion and I see how yoga combines the experience them. Like meditation, this brings you into the present, into consciousness. The other thing I take away is how seriously the concept of self-knowledge is taken here. So many people look inward for meaning, connection and the capacity to act with integrity not just to themselves but to the human family.
I think that the retreat was valuable for a lot more than the curriculum and practice--they intertwine but they were not the sum of the experience. We trekked into the hills one morning to a waterfall that we could see from the terrace at the ashram. The trek would take most of the day and the volunteers packed lunch for us. Before we left out we were warned about wild elephants and what to do if we see them and, of course, to watch out for snakes. Thousands of miles from home, heading into the forests with cobras, kraits and vipers--elephants took a distinct backseat in my worries. What was I thinking?
We head out from the ashram gate along a road and make it to our first river crossing. My thoughts start to be less about what might be under my feet and I can't help but look at the granduer all around me--my photos don't do it justice. I get talking to a couple of the kids on the hike--they and their parents are part of the retreat. They are talking about Justin Bieber (one hates him, the other thinks he's brilliant). It's just my curiosity as a teacher but I have to ask about the music they listen to. They look at me weirdly and I tell them I'm a teacher working in Chennai and I am interested what they listen to compared to my students in the States. We have a brief conversation, but now I'm an object of curiosity. As the retreat continues, the kids announce any sighting of me with "Helllooooo, Mr. Kennedy!"--it's every meal, every time I'm spotted walking to my room. My friends get named as well--Nivas becomes "Best Friend" and Pravin is named "Bad Boy." The attention is adorable mostly, and they made a very nice going away card for me on the last evening of the retreat complete with flowers. For me the interesting thing happens on the hike, though. The kids are skittish about everything that moves--everything to them is a snake. After our initial conversation they've placed themselves with me for the duration of the hike and a transformation takes place in my mind. My fear disappears--it's immediate responsibility mode, the parent mode, the teacher mode. My whole being relaxes. I become the calm "re-assurer" or the role model--I have no choice but to be brave and put my own fears aside for the kids. Think I got some awareness of my self on this hike. It's easy to gripe about teaching--there are alot of things that can be so frustrating--but it does feel right. Maybe I had to come to the other side of the world to get that. Maybe I needed to throw off the baggage of my current setting to really get what I'm about. Once the noise settles, you can really listen.
One last piece and it came in the way of a challenge. We talked alot about responsibility at the retreat--your response that you are able to do. After the trek a friend asked point-blank, ok now you've seen all this, the poverty, the poor living conditions and the kids, what will you do? Will you turn your back on it and forget it? These questions ate at me all the way back to Chennai--in my bunk on the train, I couldn't help but think about it. In a few months I go back to my quiet street and suburban home, my comfortable life with expensive sports gear, gourmet food, Costco, pure-bred dogs, etc., etc. Can I just take what I learned here and leave it? This is not to say that I need to impose my own values or standard of living on anyone. Who am I to say that my own life is superior to anyone else's or what makes anyone happy? However, I can think about preventable causes child and female mortality, educational opportunities, medical care and improved agricultural techniques that don't destroy the soil or harm those that are working in the fields. This is within my ability and I can respond to it. I can't shake the question--I can't go home and turn my back. Call this ethics, call it personality, call it what you will but it feels right and clear.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Barefoot in the ashram
September 30, 2010--outside Coimbatore, Isha Yoga Center, early afternoonI arrived early--sped by car from Coimbatore to the ashram for a retreat that my friend has just said needs to be experienced without expectations. Checked with another participant here and he said he was told the same thing by his cousin. Seems to be pretty common--no answers, no reactions, don't set up expectations. Find this just piques my curiousity. Maybe that's the point. To learn you have to want it--there must be inquiry and desire.
The setting here is just startling--we're in the Velliangiri Foothills, spiritual territory. I have never seen land like this--lush green mountains, coconut palms (forests of them), thousands of dragonflies and butterflies everywhere. Their flight is mesmerizing and I watch them for long moments, captivated with the dance, rhythms and colors. Find myself just breathing deeper here. It's so quiet compared to Chennai (many things are quieter than Chennai mind you), so fresh an green--lotus flowers scent the air all around me. In my homesick moments India gets to me--the noise, the chaos, not entirely understanding the rules--but here I feel so at ease and like my head can just let go. It's the green, the hush of the breeze, the scent of the air--flowers, wet earth. I may never want to go back to Chennai.
A trek outside
We explored the temples at the ashram this afternoon and then headed outside into the surrouding countryside. I wish that I'd brought my camera--palms, farm land, ancient trees, huts, cows with painted horns...beautiful. We forded a stream and as we walked a few meeters downstream we saw three snakes fighting to get out of a pool created by a dam. and A few more meters away two children played in the grass outside their house. Each person reacted the same--protect the kids. This raises some questions about the role of the individual and their responsibility to act. As we were thinking about what to do and getting increasingly uncomfortable in our inaction, the sky opened up and we were hit with the type of rain that only falls in the tropics--sudden, furious and long-lasting. Our road turned to thick red mud. A few people had umbrellas, I had a rain coat and became the mobile phone porter. One of my friends shared an umbrella with another hiker. Soon his companion offered to hold it for him. Then his companion disappeared. Poor Ravi was left to hike back without shelter and wondering if he'd ever see it again. We took a shortcut through a farmer's path, and as we headed back on to the ashram property the roads were all under inches of water--they looked like streams. They feed us well after the trek and we all start to get to know each other--mix of old and young, singles and families. Only two westerners besides myself. One has lived at the ashram for the past 3 years. The other is Indian, but lives in London. My best friends so far are a spiritual-seeking engineer and a skeptic who is about to start work in California. Not sure what to expect. I'm getting a little hung up on the delivery. Lots of either-or statements and some misrepresentations of science. I can't exactly turn off the ToK side of me that gets all alert when I hear these types of things. It sort of is getting in the way--ironically enough--of trying to hear the message. Want to be receptive, but this might be more of an effort than I thought. Need to put aside the Zen filter, the ToK filter, the western filter and listen. If this is a part of the great conversation about spirituality or my own journey I'll need to put aside some things and be present. Judgment can always come later, but you can't rebuild the present moment. If you can't be in that moment, you just may miss something.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Conversation with Veena
Chennai, September 28
Veena is a friend that I work with--she works at the school part time and teaches French at the Alliance Francias. Our discussion started about how her video production company (Voices of India) is pulling together a documentary about handicapped students. The project will pull together South Indian and Western filmmakers together to help fight stereotypes. Maybe it is just luck, but everyone I seem to meet is part of an NGO or working on some project to benefit someone less fortunate or someother worthy cause. Our discussion moved on to how the treatment of mentally handicapped children has changed in the past generation. The children used to be in come and received compassionate care from the family--they were a responsibility. Now the institutions have taken over. She commented how this is also being influenced by the changes in construction--the concrete apartments and smaller homes make caring for larger families more difficult. While many families may have an ancestral homestead that serves as a meeting spot, the early support when the child is young is vital.
Our conversation veered towards IB and the differences she noticed between her work within the curriculum and her classes outside the school with adults. Some of the differences were pretty pedestrian--no listening comprehension in IB, fewer materials. However, and this is what really opened my eyes and mind, she said the biggest difference was the lack of comparison between the home country and the Francophone countries--the curriculum is really only focused on France and its former colonies. Veena continued that there needs to be a cultural component--both Indian and French. Where do learn about their own culture? To know yourself is the only way to proceed. Through French, she told me, I've questioned alot--and now I know my culture and myself. She told me that she knew the Ionesco quote that I used in ToK--it's the question that enlightens. She then told me about when her father passed away and as part of the Hindu ritual surrounding the death of a parent she read the Garuda Puranam for 13 days. It was through this process that she really got to know herself--why study far away cultures when there is such a rich one here. For example, the investigation of ecology and nature conservancy is a mix of obligation and religious fear. However, when these are examined, there's a real profound link to the past and present.
Our conversation then ranged to the CBSE schools and she detailed her son's experience with the harshness in the classroom and how this affected him on assessments. He performed brilliantly in a different setting where assessments were treated more like learning tools instead of high-stakes exercises. Her comments sounded alot like what our district has been hearing from Dr. Thomas Guskey at the University of Kentucky. She noted that the more traditional approach is changing. She recommended that I visit Gurukul in Pune. In the gurukul tradition, the guru takes the child to develop skills--they are taught vedas and taught to be part of society as well as basic life skills (how to keep their surroundings clean, how to deal with people). In this model, the guru finds out what the child is interested in and then focuses on the development of these interests and knowledge. The teaching about subjects happens after the interest. The other unique thing that she pointed out is that the guru serves as a caring, involved adult who connects with the student and builds on what they are interested in. This last piece really got me thinking about what it means to teach and the role that we fulfill--or should or could fulfill to help our students learn.
Our last topic dealt with how culture is taught--and there are some really good schools that teach the culture--Chinmaya International Residential School performs pujas, for example. Other institutions may be international in their perspective, but they are not Indian--in this case the implication is that culture=spiritual. They cannot be separated here. She commented too that the scientific explanations that seem to dominate now have their own limitations. She stated that when ever a house is built, they must plant mango and coconut trees. Very little was done to examine why this was done, it's tradition. But now the students hear about environmentalism and begin to wonder why people do the traditions. In her opinion, this was a cyclical thing. Her last comment was that the state schools that teach Tamil, the students perform better. They hear Tamil all the time, they get the culture, the context and nuance--so much more than vocabulary. This in essence, makes the language a living thing--not a grammatical exercise and word lists.
Looking back at this conversation, again I can't help but see links to my project. Experiencing the awakening or a-ha moment. As a Westerner I don't look at our curriculum so critically--it's my culture so I miss what it would feel like to not be represented. It's like I don't even have to think about it, but now that it's pointed out to me I finally get it. I'm starting to work on what international really means.
Veena is a friend that I work with--she works at the school part time and teaches French at the Alliance Francias. Our discussion started about how her video production company (Voices of India) is pulling together a documentary about handicapped students. The project will pull together South Indian and Western filmmakers together to help fight stereotypes. Maybe it is just luck, but everyone I seem to meet is part of an NGO or working on some project to benefit someone less fortunate or someother worthy cause. Our discussion moved on to how the treatment of mentally handicapped children has changed in the past generation. The children used to be in come and received compassionate care from the family--they were a responsibility. Now the institutions have taken over. She commented how this is also being influenced by the changes in construction--the concrete apartments and smaller homes make caring for larger families more difficult. While many families may have an ancestral homestead that serves as a meeting spot, the early support when the child is young is vital.
Our conversation veered towards IB and the differences she noticed between her work within the curriculum and her classes outside the school with adults. Some of the differences were pretty pedestrian--no listening comprehension in IB, fewer materials. However, and this is what really opened my eyes and mind, she said the biggest difference was the lack of comparison between the home country and the Francophone countries--the curriculum is really only focused on France and its former colonies. Veena continued that there needs to be a cultural component--both Indian and French. Where do learn about their own culture? To know yourself is the only way to proceed. Through French, she told me, I've questioned alot--and now I know my culture and myself. She told me that she knew the Ionesco quote that I used in ToK--it's the question that enlightens. She then told me about when her father passed away and as part of the Hindu ritual surrounding the death of a parent she read the Garuda Puranam for 13 days. It was through this process that she really got to know herself--why study far away cultures when there is such a rich one here. For example, the investigation of ecology and nature conservancy is a mix of obligation and religious fear. However, when these are examined, there's a real profound link to the past and present.
Our conversation then ranged to the CBSE schools and she detailed her son's experience with the harshness in the classroom and how this affected him on assessments. He performed brilliantly in a different setting where assessments were treated more like learning tools instead of high-stakes exercises. Her comments sounded alot like what our district has been hearing from Dr. Thomas Guskey at the University of Kentucky. She noted that the more traditional approach is changing. She recommended that I visit Gurukul in Pune. In the gurukul tradition, the guru takes the child to develop skills--they are taught vedas and taught to be part of society as well as basic life skills (how to keep their surroundings clean, how to deal with people). In this model, the guru finds out what the child is interested in and then focuses on the development of these interests and knowledge. The teaching about subjects happens after the interest. The other unique thing that she pointed out is that the guru serves as a caring, involved adult who connects with the student and builds on what they are interested in. This last piece really got me thinking about what it means to teach and the role that we fulfill--or should or could fulfill to help our students learn.
Our last topic dealt with how culture is taught--and there are some really good schools that teach the culture--Chinmaya International Residential School performs pujas, for example. Other institutions may be international in their perspective, but they are not Indian--in this case the implication is that culture=spiritual. They cannot be separated here. She commented too that the scientific explanations that seem to dominate now have their own limitations. She stated that when ever a house is built, they must plant mango and coconut trees. Very little was done to examine why this was done, it's tradition. But now the students hear about environmentalism and begin to wonder why people do the traditions. In her opinion, this was a cyclical thing. Her last comment was that the state schools that teach Tamil, the students perform better. They hear Tamil all the time, they get the culture, the context and nuance--so much more than vocabulary. This in essence, makes the language a living thing--not a grammatical exercise and word lists.
Looking back at this conversation, again I can't help but see links to my project. Experiencing the awakening or a-ha moment. As a Westerner I don't look at our curriculum so critically--it's my culture so I miss what it would feel like to not be represented. It's like I don't even have to think about it, but now that it's pointed out to me I finally get it. I'm starting to work on what international really means.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Figuring things out--in two parts
Evening, September 27, 2010I need to write--so much has happened, I don't want to let it get to far away. I definitely need to talk about school--the travel stuff is fine and good, but it's the work with the students that is rejuvenating. I've been working with the first and second year ToK students for the past two weeks and the students have responded beautifully. Some students are starting to come out of the woodwork and are more engaged than when I first met them. Finally having the questions and talks after class. One student whose parents are in the film industry here is pulling an essential Indian cinema collection together for me. Sudha and I have different approaches to lessons but we are really starting to click (Sudha--I know you sometimes read this blog so feel free to leave a comment/correction) and I have enjoyed the conversations we've had about the kids and the craft. The school has been a good pairing and I am really enjoying working with her. We tried out a Paideia seminar on the second years (Montaigne's "Of the Art of Conversing") and it worked really well--100% participation (which was remarkable--there are students in there who utter next to nothing) and the two young women in class got that their whole discussion was a conversation like Montaigne described. They want to do more of these and I was so proud of how they met the challenge of reading a really hard piece, trusting me, and how they embraced the technique. The seminars work really well in my American classes and I guess that I was both surprised and not surprised at the outcome. I've watched a few classes and the students do interact with each other and the teacher differently than in an American classroom. But in class they were pros, and they enjoyed themselves. Does this just tell us something about adolesence in general--they crave independence and want to interact with each other. They can be coached in behaviors and they can meet challenges if properly prepared. This school is new to IB so it's not that the traditions of the program have been instilled (this is the first group to go through the curriculum). Perhaps I've come as far away from home as is humanly possible to find out what good teachers knew all along--know your students, give them a voice, hold them to standards, have high expectations, and coach them in what you want them to do. The setting doesn't matter and in this case the technique transcended culture. Maybe I'm simplifying it, but nonetheless it worked. We're going to try using discussion board/blog software next to connect the M. Ct. M. students with the MHS kids next. The students here are really excited about the potential and have a lot of questions. They want ot know about values and beliefs and interests and what the American high school experience is really like. They really would like to do an exchange. I think that both groups would really benefit--especially if we set them up correctly and really build an awareness of culture and help foster a curiousity and openness to new ideas. As a team I think Sudha and I can really make this worthwhile--and I think having a person on the ground from the other institution really helps. It puts a face to it, a personality, a connection that can answer questions and offer up stories. Would they be so enthusiastic if we were doing it a different way? My gut tells me no. My school runs an type of correspondence program between schools, but this is more intense and connected to a specific group of students and a class. It's really fascinating to think about the effects that this could have on understanding and where this program could go. It's sort of a rush--the conversations and connections that are being fostered here have a lot of energy behind them and I am not entirely sure where this might go in the future, but it feels like there is some profound potential. I wake up some mornings and wonder about what to do with this--how far can we go?
I got some insight into my nickname mentioned in my last post. I went to lunch at my usual spot met up with the manager again--I had to ask about the name (Sudha made a face when she heard it and asked why I had been given it). When I broached the question, he told me that it identifies you as part of the community--the self never changes but the label may when you are here. In America you are Kennedy, if you were to go to Saudi Arabia you may be Saleem, but here in India you are Gopal. Always the same person but the location changes. My name also means Krishna, he told me, you see we are all linked, one all-encompassing religion. The differences don't matter, it is just God. I told him that in my tradition using the name of God casually is condemned. He commented that people here use it all the time, it doesn't carry the same stigma. Children are named after God because to invoke the name is to connect with the divine. We talked a bit about the ashram that I'm going to this week--about the self, about peace, about letting go of anger and understanding human relationships. I'm not sure if I fully understand why this name and maybe I'm looking too much into it wanting to find some significance. Maybe I can just be Gopal when I'm here--one degree away from being entirely foreign. One step closer to understanding this culture and community. I am still myself and all my Western quirks and predilictions--but maybe the self can expand to allow others and their world in to live side by side. Maybe the taking of a name can be symbolic--a walk in two worlds. This is something I know that so many people in my country do everyday (pulled between the culture in their home and the one they encounter in school or at work), and I know that I can easily shut it off when I go back home. I know that it's different because I can choose--it's not a concession or a trade-off that I have to make. There's not conflict of identity--the self is the same, the definition or content is just wider than it was before.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Back from Mamallapuram
I put about 100 photos on my Shutterfly share site from my trip to Mamallapuram. If you are interested, there's a tab with a link. I may write about that more at some other point, but it's late on Sunday night--well, at least it feels late. I've been sitting at the computer most of the day, except for a trip to the gym, lunch and a haircut (all of these were done at the same place). Probably should mention that at this same place I received my first nickname since arriving in India 11 days ago. The manager at the restaurant I always eat at gave it to me--Gopal. It refers to a manifestation of Lord Krishna in his youth, the protector of cows. Not quite sure how to respond to it--I was re-introduced to all the staff as "Mr. Gopal." I smiled and took the name in good nature. It was sort of a strange afternoon anyway. I finally pulled myself away from e-mails, Shutterfly, grading papers and other work in my room to work out. The weights felt good, but I was hungry. I packed a change of clothes in my messenger bag, just in case I couldn't slip into the restaurant to grab a quick sandwich. The trainer said to just go for it, and as I entered the dining room I was greeted loudly by the manager and the assistant manager. There I am, standing in basketball shorts and a quick-dry top, while all around me very well-dressed families quietly eat their Sunday afternoon lunch. I can barely get out asking if I should change before entering, but I'm swept away to my usual spot and the manager personally puts in my order and stays to chat--this is when I got the nickname. I have no idea what the other patrons thought about this--who is this sweaty, shabbily-dressed American and why the fuss? I can understand making a cultural misstep innocently, but this time I felt like I was pulled into it despite my better judgement. I have to say that it does feel good to be a regular, to have some community, some connection to a new place. I've been stunned by the welcoming nature of the people I've met--invited to homes for meals, offers to help with just about anything I could possibly need. Coming from the Midwest (good doses of German and Scandinavian guilt and responsibility programmed in, fed through the water-supply to the very core of our beings) it feels like I owe a series of debts that I may never be able to repay. Maybe it's the lessons learned that's the key--I feel close to my friends here, like I've known them for so much longer than 11 days. I feel like I have a better sense of what it is like to be a good and giving person, a reset of priorities--sort of like my soul grew or aired itself out a bit. Maybe what I've been experiencing is just human-hearted compassion--you do it not for any type of reward or recognition but because ultimately it is what keeps us together as human beings you are more free and happy when you do. Give of yourself and be open and receptive to others. Let that be your gift to the world and let others learn from you--hopefully they'll spread it around, too. Won't we all be in a better place if this is true. But then again maybe I'm overthinking it, or perhaps the label and categorizing (I guess we could call it reason) doesn't really matter, but if it works go with it. Regardless, I feel like I'm sort of getting it, like there's been a real positive change in my outlook, like I learned something. Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Sometimes a day happens for a reason
Chennai, late evening, back from dinner, still reflecting--9/21This picture fits for today--it's of the entry to the IB building at M. Ct. M. Chidambaram Chettyar International School. The school is very traditional in many ways which has been fascinating. Sometimes a day just seems to be made for one important conversation--today was one of those days. I had meetings with Ms. Sudha and a talk with the Tamil teacher about student engagement and I was pulled into watch some physical science presentations by a group of middle years students. As I made my way back to my messenger bag and laptop, the English literature teacher greeted me and invited me to conversation. The English teacher is a striking woman with long grey hair and a posture and demeanor that radiates intelligence, wisdom and thoughtfulness. Our conversation began with a book recommendation for me and then connected to the differences between Indian and Greek tragedy--in Indian tragedy the character suffers from attachment (over-emotional attachment to lovers, to possessions, to children, to youth). It's more of a themes than a trait (the Western view of a fatal flaw--but this flaw could take many forms). I'm already hooked at this point, but our discussion goes deeper in to language and technology and emotion. She states that it is a paradox these days, the students have so much access to the internet but little curiousity. I commented that the Tamil teacher and I talked about this as well--the students had little interest in cultural knowledge of their region. She extends the point--unfortunately this also translates to their language ability. They are not necessarily fluent in their mother language adn their not fluent in English. They can only say the necessities, but cannot express their thoughts and feelings. English can be viewed as the language of the workplace--a means to make money, but it doesn't touch the real parts of you. In the past many people spoke 4-5 languages--they traveled and in order to communicate with friends, you learned their langauge. Now people, she said, speak a pidgin language--merely functional English. She related to me a longitudinal study on students grades K-8. The study sought to understand what would happen in English was superimposed on the mother language. What was found was that the students initially spoke Tamil, but soon the Tamil didn't keep up with their emotional needs, but English couldn't express these needs either. This trend has become apparent in the last 25 years--students that can't express themselves but have emotinoal needs. It's really quite sad when you think about it. Her own children were raised with Tamil spoken in the home (it was a family decision), and this brought them connections to film and art and older family members. Part of this decay in language may also be a change in society--the schedule of working parents changes the language and cheapens the language. Conversations are more along the lines of "did you pick up..." or "what is scheduled today...". This cheapened langauge affects your world view. People have become more reliant upon or are immersed in media--but this builds a view that nothing is really older than yesterday's paper. There are visuals of what society is like, what institutions or other cultures are like, but they are devoid of the connections--missing the humanity, the culture, the behavior. Slowly the cultural threads are lost--meaningful rites like birth, death and marriage become mashed together in a cultural hodgepodge as people borrow only what they find useful or what makes sense. Some of this can be seen in the ways business practices and organizations have been implemented in Indian society. The Western structures are there, but the people participating don't fully understand--they do the things in the structure but there's little adaptation or understanding of the practices. Our conversation went back to students. Many students view learning English as a key to economic improvement--their view of education is on the aspiration. This type of knowledge--acquiring it for purely economic reasons--is pretty shallow. The students must have real knowledge--paravidya (real knowledge, knowledge of the self or self-knowledge) as opposed to aparavidya (useless knowledge--what you need to get on in life). In the Upanishads the most learned man is an ignoramus if he doesn't have paravidya. You may have knowledge of the Upanishads, but until you act it, you are ignorant. You can also have real knowledge and slip back. It's fluid like that.
At this point she had to go to class so our conversation ended with promises to talk again. We both thanked each other and went our separate ways--she to class and I to pull together a seminar on Montaigne. In those moments as we sat talking it was as if I could feel the connections to the questions I had been wondering about--I could feel my perspectives and knowledge being stretched. Some days were just made for a single conversation.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Ideas and Conversations
Morning, September 21--beat the alarm up, need to get some ideas down
I'm still a little sick--probably the fruit I ate. This always happens, I've been told, to newcomers. Just puts a kink in the workout schedule. Feel much better than I did this weekend.
I've been having a lot of conversations with people and wanted to summarize the content--some of this will be for my doctorate which I hope to start in the summer--but much of this is just processing and trying to understand all that has experienced. I invite comments especially for where I may have made generalizations that are inaccurate. My perspective is limited, but I am trying to understand this new place.
- The need for education: education is a means transcend problems of poverty, especially in the rural areas. If the population is better educated than this will help build a more equitable society and ease some of the problems experienced in India today. A couple people have wondered what will happen once the population becomes more prosperous and comfortable, though--will the tolerance and more group oriented mindset be diminished?
- The Indian education system: most people have talked with me about how Indian schools make for wonderful engineers, but not necessarily great creators or innovators. They go on to say that a lot of time and energy is spent on rote memorization and drilling for exams. One man, an engineer by training, stated that he could easily tell you the formulas and calculations to solve a problem, but not how they work or why they work. Some have gone so far to say that once this is addressed, then India will be the dominant economy. If this is combined with a more affluent and educated society, there may be fewer Indian professionals seeking employment outside of India.
- Religion: This is a tricky one to get my head around. Temples surround us as well as emblems and symbols of faith. While religion is not far from people's minds or reality--my students commenting that their belief that form matters more in poetry than emotion comes from their grounding in the couplets found in sacred texts, pigment on the body every day , acceptance of a new place (how do you feel about Chennai I asked a breakfast companion, "It is a city of God, and since God made it who am I to judge--it is and I accept it."--I had just met this person a moment ago)--there is also a frank secularism among some students and a tremendous amount of tolerance. This city has large temples, mosques and a basilica crammed into--despite what the population figure might indicate--not a very large place. In the autobiography of Adbul Kamal--the former president of India and father of their rocketry program--he discussed how a new teacher in his childhood separated him from his best friend in class because he was a Muslim and his friend was a Hindu. The father of the friend was the priest at the local temple and confronted the teacher, castigating him for spreading intolerance. I've been told more than once as well that it is not the religion of an individual that matters but the content of their character--this being linked to the primacy of relationships and some of the day-to-day hardships. You accept the person because you share in the difficulties and rely upon each other. If they are a good person, they are a good person--you participate in each other's festivals because they enrich your life, bring community together and they are part of your friend.
Need some sleep. Still recovering. I am learning a lot.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Ok, I'm finally here and have my feet under me...somewhat
Chennai, September 17--10 PM (11:30 AM Minnesota time)
So much has happened I don't know if I can fit it in one post--and alot of these ideas will be picked up and developed over the course of the grant and this blog. I've met so many people in the past few days, tasted so many different types of food, had some unbelievable conversations, figured out how to use the auto taxis, and even got lost once. I've only seen Americans and Europeans at the Immigration Bureau.
My initial landing was rough--culture shock hit pretty hard (which I thoroughly underestimated) and I had a couple of SNAFUs with my housing (which are now rectified). My neighborhood is called Mylapore and it is very conservative and many wealthy Indians live here. This combination does not translate the same way as in the West--this is more traditional India, not like the rest of Chennai which is more cosmopolitan. You will see more garbage, you will see many devoted Brahmins with body paint and traditional dress. When I walk to work I smell the flower merchants selling their garlands for the temples, I pass an ashram and wall graffitti of Ganesh. Tamil is the predominant language (it is a government mandate that all schools teach it) and I can walk for miles without hearing English--I only hear it at my guest house, at school and sometimes in restaurants if people are talking to me. This has been both fascinating and tough--it is so different from my home and street in Minnesota. You hear tropical birds amidst construction, calls to worship juxtaposed against the incessant horns of motorbikes, auto taxis and cars. Buses crash past at terrifying rates, school children pile out of their parents cars or off their motorbikes with Barbie lunchboxes and Nike running shoes while a barefoot man in a loin cloth and long white hair passes by. I am very aware that I am outside of my culture, that I am in a new place, a very different place where I don't yet fully understand the rules.
On top of the sensory overload. a million questions have raced through my mind--just about the mundane, the basics of living and navigating a city. Strange how we can just drop right down into these issues and how scary it can be when you don't know the anwers. My phone doesn't work, where can I get a mobile? Where can I eat? Where can I get cash? Which streets are safe? How late can I be out? Then the responsibility questions hit--can I bring my daughter here? What will she do? Will she be safe? Is this what she's expecting? Will I find an adequate apartment--and if I do, how on Earth will I figure out how to furnish it, buy groceries.... My brain has flooded a few times with this--usually bringing on feelings of homesickness. The grant would be easier if it were just me--but having a family ramps up the protective caregiver side of me. I've had to remind myself (or my wife reminded me--she is so solid) to just clear my mind and breathe. I landed 4 days ago, be patient, give it time.
While much of this sounds a bit negative, the people I've met, the over-the-top assistance and kindness I've received, and the conversations about big ideas (value of education, poverty, nature of history, cultural knowledge...) have been mind-blowing and wonderful. I work with tremendous educators at M. CT. M. School--Ms. Sudha is amazing and I am so looking forward to working with her on this project. I am linked up with a brilliant and dynamic facilitator who just makes me want to dive into the issues and change the world--she runs an educational foundation and is a teacher trainer. Her foundation is taking on big problems in education and there may be some opportunities to work with her on them while I'm here and perhaps in the future. As my facilitator, she's answered questions that I didn't even know I had and has really taken care of me. I have been really fortunate to meet some amazing people during the past few days--they have buoyed me in so many ways I hope that they know how much it has all meant to me. One final piece about this--and I'll have to write about the content later--so many of the conversations have aligned with my capstone and what I've been reading and thinking about for the past year. It's an strange coincidence perhaps or a map to go forward--a confluence of ideas and potential.
Since I mentioned it, yes, I did get lost today. I spent several hours with the Indian bureaucracy at the Immigration Bureau. I raced back to school to meet with the year 2 IB ToK students and caught the last 20 minutes of class. My supervisor had a ton of other obligations due to a conference being held at the school this weekend so I had the late afternoon free. I headed down Luz Church Road from school to the Mylapore Tank (see the picture at the top of this entry). I walked through a park, past stores and a few coffee and tea stalls. Once I got to the tank I decided to take another route home instead of merely backtracking. This turned out to be stupid. I don't know what possessed me to think that this old city is on a grid like Minneapolis--somehow my memory of the maps I've looked at blanked. I did see some pretty extreme poverty--little kids playing naked in the street next to their shack which abuts a canal that reeks of industrial and human waste. I wandered by dead-reckoning for about 45 minutes until I finally decided to give up and take an auto-taxi home--I had asked for directions 3 times and received conflicting information resulting in me making a complete circle. I approached one, but his fare was too high so I walked to what I thought was another driver. The man was old, eyes clouded by glaucoma, and as he spoke I could smell the alcohol on his breath--however he turned out to be the only reliable source I found this past afternoon. He understood where I wanted to go and knew the landmarks and could point me in the right direction if I wanted to walk, but he kept refusing to drive me there. Looking at my watch I realized that I needed to get back to Skype with my daughter and get cleaned up for a play that I planned to attend this evening (Madras Players' "Whose Wife Is It Anyway?") I thanked him and started to look for another driver--the distance wasn't too bad. He then informed me that he was not a driver (he just helped me out for no other reason than to be helpful) and then fetched me a nearby driver to take me where I wanted to go--he even gave directions to the driver. As the taxi pulled away I waved and thanked him still sort of stunned by this whole interaction. The driver was pleasant and taught me a few words in Tamil and got me home in a matter of minutes. I showered and then Skyped with Mads over breakfast and made it to the school auditorium in time for the play.
This entry is getting long and it barely scratches the surface--and I've only been here 4 days. It's also late and I need to be up early for a couple of things.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Twilight—August 30, 2010
I’ve passed the two-week-to-go mark. It’s thoroughly arbitrary, I know, but somehow when my departure was a month in the future it felt far off but two weeks just feels more imminent, more urgent. Maybe it’s knowing that I’ll have one more full weekend at home—hits all the dad-guilt buttons. I’ll watch my daughter play soccer and then fly out the next day. My wife and I had what will probably be our last night out together (without the munchkin in tow) until January. We went to Barbette—our usual place—ordered our old favorites, tried a couple of new desserts from their pastry chef and said good-bye to the manager. Our usual waiter was unfortunately on vacation. We chatted with her for awhile and she comped us champagne. Good closure for one piece of our life here.
The past few weeks have been strange—I mean throughout the whole summer I’ve been sending out e-mails that will arrive in the middle of the night or early, early morning. When I wake up the next morning there are replies from people with beautiful names whom I’ve never met. It’s like being caught between two worlds—a twilight existence. I live my day-to-day life with all of the responsibilities—driving, groceries, play dates, walking the dog, tuck-in duty—but as I look around, there’s an awareness, almost an observational distance and reflection. I experience the stores, traffic and the personal interactions but I’m looking for the assumptions. I look at what I’ve laid out for packing and then all that we have in our house and wonder how much of it is necessary. What am I carrying with me culturally that I don’t even know is there? While I’m trying to stay in the present and not obsess about the next few months, I can’t help but wonder about what my life will be like in India. I walk Jack and I marvel at how broad the streets are and how far apart the houses are (not to mention the size of the houses, the newness of the cars, and the amount of stuff we have). I received some really hard family news this weekend and found solace in the fact that the Basilica of Saint Thomas will be close by, but then moments later a letter about the transformational experience from working with a guru and Eastern mysticism arrives from a friend. Two worlds—connections in both, twilight. How will I change? While I know that would not have to travel 11 time zones to have these thoughts, there they are nonetheless. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m ready to go.
I wonder about how this will affect my daughter, too. How will it influence her thinking? What will it mean to her? What will she take away from it? She’s five, bright (well, I think so at least) and very observant. She’ll have memories and she’ll think about experiences; she’ll have stories to tell her friends. Maybe it’s just going to be part of her and her reality—this is what families just do. Talking with a neighbor a couple of weeks ago we discussed how they were trying to instill values of openness, tolerance and cultural curiosity in their daughter by hosting a foreign exchange student. I hope that this experience will have that affect on Mads.
The past few weeks have been strange—I mean throughout the whole summer I’ve been sending out e-mails that will arrive in the middle of the night or early, early morning. When I wake up the next morning there are replies from people with beautiful names whom I’ve never met. It’s like being caught between two worlds—a twilight existence. I live my day-to-day life with all of the responsibilities—driving, groceries, play dates, walking the dog, tuck-in duty—but as I look around, there’s an awareness, almost an observational distance and reflection. I experience the stores, traffic and the personal interactions but I’m looking for the assumptions. I look at what I’ve laid out for packing and then all that we have in our house and wonder how much of it is necessary. What am I carrying with me culturally that I don’t even know is there? While I’m trying to stay in the present and not obsess about the next few months, I can’t help but wonder about what my life will be like in India. I walk Jack and I marvel at how broad the streets are and how far apart the houses are (not to mention the size of the houses, the newness of the cars, and the amount of stuff we have). I received some really hard family news this weekend and found solace in the fact that the Basilica of Saint Thomas will be close by, but then moments later a letter about the transformational experience from working with a guru and Eastern mysticism arrives from a friend. Two worlds—connections in both, twilight. How will I change? While I know that would not have to travel 11 time zones to have these thoughts, there they are nonetheless. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m ready to go.
I wonder about how this will affect my daughter, too. How will it influence her thinking? What will it mean to her? What will she take away from it? She’s five, bright (well, I think so at least) and very observant. She’ll have memories and she’ll think about experiences; she’ll have stories to tell her friends. Maybe it’s just going to be part of her and her reality—this is what families just do. Talking with a neighbor a couple of weeks ago we discussed how they were trying to instill values of openness, tolerance and cultural curiosity in their daughter by hosting a foreign exchange student. I hope that this experience will have that affect on Mads.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)