Do you believe there is something germinal to our lives?

Is there something planted in us, perhaps even before there was an us (imagine that one!), something of eternal weightiness, our uniqueness, the reason for OUR being here, OUR being human, which welcomes our tendering and requires our cultivation if it is ever to spring forth and become?

My childhood memories of Christmas are quite warm, and a little bizarre.  On the bizarre side of things, I would spend countless hours alone in front of the Christmas tree.  What captivated my attention was not the presents, rather it was “show time!”  It was the dancing of lights across the ceiling, the glow and changing of  patterns given off from the lights strung on the tree.   An otherwise bland, white ceiling was transformed into my own “Aurora Borealis.”

My favorite rocking chair.  My favorite “cubby” (a corner of the living room, fireplace to the left and Christmas tree to the right), my favorite time to be alone, and my favorite songs.  There was something inviting, almost sacred about this time.  I was alone with the exception of a satisfying warmness which closely accompanied my heart.

Song after song played on our old record player.  But, the highlight was when Robert Goulet began to sing.  A deep “Yeah,” an internal smiley face :), was the feeling, that I knew.  And to this day, I am still wondering and discovering why.

The song was “Do You Hear What I Hear?”  It’s a classic!  There’s just something about the lyrics and the way he sings it with that baritone voice of his.

Three questions are asked.  Do you see what I see?  Do you hear what I hear?  Do you know what I know?

The first question is asked by the night wind to a little lamb.  “Do you see what I see?”

A star…

A second question is then asked by the little lamb to a shepherd boy;  a kind and series of pay it forwards if you will.  “Do you hear what I hear?”

A song…

The third question is asked by the shepherd boy to a mighty king.  “Do you know what I know?”

A child…

Collectively, there’s a star to be seen, a song to be heard, and a child to be known.

Problem solving and group work are a large part of what happens in my classroom, as this is how I have chosen to use this space.  While students are working together in their groups, I find myself engaging with them while also caught up in a dance to the music of these three questions.  What do I see?  What do I hear?  Who do I know?  Said another way, do I see well?  Do I hear well?  Do I know well?  The last question, knowing well, is particularly interesting for any educational environment which prizes itself on knowledge.

A star to be seen.  A song to be heard.  And a child to be known.  I am sensing that this is the stuff of education for eternity.

In each of us there is something to be seen;  not from the outside in but from the inside out.  It comes out and makes its self and way known when the conditions are right.  Parker Palmer refers to this as our soul.  I find that there are a handful of students who actually discover a sense of self while being in class…if we have eyes to see.

Often times it is the quiet ones.  The unsuspectings.    At the beginning of a new semester there is wonderment.  Who is going to have an opportunity and actually discover something about themselves?  Who is going to come away with a greater sense of clarity, a clearer sense of sight about their own possible place in the world?

It is during these times that I remember that my job is not to be in control, but rather to guide, show, explain.  Perhaps even “mine?”  I remember that I am as much a learner as my students and that this is the way it is meant to be.

Then, there is also a song, a verse, a poem which our life is meant to provide;  be heard by and for others.  Education has the potential to be a symphony, with each student an instrument needing to be discovered, identified, and heard.   Like any good symphony, both the individual instrument and the collection of the whole are needed.  In this sense, I find myself to be somewhat of a conductor, trying to bring out the best in each student as well as wondering about the sound of the whole, when each part is performing to potential.  So I wonder, do I have ears to hear?

Do I hear what is meant to be heard?  Do I have ears to hear that which is important?  Sometimes this happens while just walking around and hearing a student share with another, “I really like this stuff.”  There is it!  Not spoken to me directly, but as I go, coming forth from the heart and experience of a person who is truly learning, truly discovering.  In this case, learning something perhaps true to their own self?  Magical.

And then there is “the child.”  In many spiritual traditions it is the child who is considered to be the greatest among us.  Rather than educate the child out, I want to keep, honor, and value, the child within, while at the same time embracing the need to mature.

This art is definitely tricky business for childlikeness and childishness are certainly not the same thing.  How do we cultivate the former and eliminate the later?

As we get ready to celebrate a new holiday season, I find myself reflecting on that which was germinal to my own sense of being, revealed while parked next to my families Christmas tree.

I want to have good eyes and see as well as help students to see that which is jointly revealed to us.  I want to have ears, good ears, hearing ears if you will.  For I know there are times when I hear but do not hear.  Do you know what I mean?  And then I want to be more childlike and remember that each of us really wants two things;  to be fully known and fully loved.  This is a powerful and rare combination.

To know someone.  To know a person for who they are.  And then to love them “as are” rather than “should be.”  This is a real gift.  It takes eyes to see, ears to hear, and courage to teach.

What would happen if we thought of and linkedin education with, “Aurora Borealis?”