It's not a secret, right?

I had a chance to go to Disneyland recently on a whirlwind weekend trip that involved two glorious days away from school, approximately twenty eight hours in the parks themselves, less sleep than I have had in a long time and the best food ever. Given the novelty aspect of this trip and the summer of hard work it represented, I decided that I ought to get some kind of souvenir. Only. . . I don't collect pins. Or wear hats. Or need any more t-shirts. And if I want a Disney movie, I'm not going to buy one in the park, I'm going to buy one used online for half the price or less. So I found a cute ornament for my Christmas tree and. . . being me. . . a book. (That's right. Some people buy all kinds of assorted Disney memorabilia, and I buy a book.)

The book, Brain Storm, is written by Don Hahn, one of the executive producers on many of Disney's most successful films (including Beauty and the Beast.) I've not finished it yet, but it's broken into easily digested sections so odds are I will. His goal is to talk about the creative process and offers some practical advice towards gaining a greater understanding of creativity itself. Coupled with my reading of Ken Robinson's Out of Our Minds, my brain has been working overtime on this idea of creation over the last few months. Not just the idea of creation, but the common misconceptions of it.

For example, I had a parent request of me recently that I send home an example of a "perfect" essay. To be honest, I didn't really know how to respond. As an essayist myself, a "perfect" essay is something of a joke. No essayist that I know of (or have read) would ever admit that such a thing exists, at least not in their own writing. Writing isn't an art that is perfected, it is explored. But this parent didn't see writing as an art form - it was a checklist. Eventually I mailed home an essay from the internet that I didn't even read all the way through.

I give this example because it is a nice symbol of a common problem I see (and others see) cropping up more and more often in the way parents and students (and people in general) talk to me about the way they approach learning. It is a series of things to check off a list. Skills are things that you used to not know and then, after a lesson, you have mastered, and you can move on with "real" life. The "art" of gaining an education in any field, whether it be math, science, English or the arts, are being sacrificed in favor of fake rewards that don't mean much and "skills" that are forgotten within days. Teachers don't assign homework because students won't do it and parents won't make them. (This is, incidentally, one reason why the arts are so valuable in schools - you can't fake your way through the arts. If you can't sing well, everyone knows it.)

In Hahn's book he points out how easy it is to be intimidated by the great thinkers of the past - men like Edison or Disney himself - men like Steve Jobs and DaVinci who seem to have that creativity thing down in spades. But, Hahn argues, the great thinkers of history (with the possible exceptions of Disney and Jobs) didn't have access to the same tools we do. We have the world of information available for free to us so long as we have a computer with the internet on it. In under ten seconds, I can find out nearly any fact I want to know.

But that's part of the problem. It used to be that having knowledge of a subject guaranteed you a job, because having that knowledge alone was rare. But not in this world. To enter any field that involves creative thinking - everything ranging from engineering to graphic designer and back again - employers want people who can come up with ideas and follow through on them. The world is moving too fast for any business to stop evolving, and it takes people to make that happen.

This is good news, really. What it means is that anyone with the right set of skills can find success, college education or no. The tools you need to be successful are pretty simple: it takes hard work, and a passion for what you do that is not swayed by setbacks.

But somehow in our "Occupy ______" nation, those skills are drowning in a sea of excuses and people lazing around from one task to another. Here in the valley, I'm not sure how this functions elsewhere, "stress" has taken on the label of "overwhelmed", which means that parents are now requesting students be excused from assignments or late work (and then wonder why their kid doesn't know how to do basic tasks at the end of the year.) If a student doesn't know how to do something, or has a learning disability, or has problems at home, then all of these things (sometimes combined) become the barrier that keeps a person from even attempting to try. Which is fine. Everyone's got problems. But it's no secret that if you don't do the work you don't get the reward.

Unless, of course, you whine about it long enough that someone gives you a gold star or a cookie or an "everyone wins" trophy to make you feel better about it.

The Perfect Storm

Once upon a time the perfect storm came and tried to ruin everything.

It involved about forty hours of grading essays in a week, doing everything possible to have them done before a trip home.

It involved putting off projects and readings that needed to be done in favor of pushing forward with every last inch of sanity to finish those essays and get them back to students before their next essay test.

It involved death bed repenters and desperate parents wanting to put bandaids on gaping wounds.

It involved a frantic Friday after school rushing to get things done and make it to the airport without falling asleep at the wheel. Boarding a plane and feeling like - finally - I'd have an excuse to relax.

It involved a delayed - and then cancelled flight. Followed by a missed airport shuttle. Followed by a sleepless night in a cold and kitschy hotel room. Followed by a way too early morning. Followed by a flight in the world's smallest airplane. Followed by a two hour ride home instead of a fifteen minute home.

It involved a not nearly as relaxing and enjoyable trip for me or for others in my family as it should have been. Long week + long weekend = an unfortunate conglomeration of out of control events (translation: I was not in the world's most enthusiastic mood. Further translation: I think the weekend was a disappointment for those, including myself, who like me slightly better rested and fed.)

It then involved returning home to an individual blaming me for purposefully grading hard to prove a point and more or less claiming that I am not intelligent enough to do the job I have.

It involved me wanting very much to throw up the proverbial white BANNER of surrender. To yell to the world that I cannot possibly be everything for everyone, or do all the right things, or please anyone, and that I may as well not try any more, because what was the point? My imperfections felt so very close to the surface and frustrating for me and inconvenient for other people, and it was beyond my mental and physical stamina to handle it any more.

But then. . .

I drove home and saw a sight that looked almost identical to this.

I took a little time to visit . . .

(She's been missing me lately. It's been mutual.)

And suddenly life doesn't seem so unconquerable any more.

I'm still imperfect. I'm still overworked. And stubborn. And maybe a little delusional sometimes. But mostly, I think, I'm like the majority of people in the world trying to get by the best they can - sometimes meeting success and sometimes not. Rough weeks happen. Sometimes weeks are more overwhelming than others. But they end. And we move onward and upward and, with any luck, gain more than just some sore muscles by the time we reach the top of the peak.

Some of Someday

The last few days have been mentally and physically taxing ones for me. I'm drowning in approximately 175 essays to read (in addition to the rest of the homework I need to grade.) I have an online class I need to film for and grade. I have friends who want to spend time with me. I have a bed who dearly misses me. I have a handful of very needy parents to deal with. I have a somewhat neglected spiritual life that I have been making strides to enhance again. I have personal insecurities and outside pressures to somehow conquer or, at least, learn to put up with. My life, at least right now, feels a bit like the trash compactor in Star Wars and I'm doing everything I can to try and stop it, or at least get the trash out, but I've been fighting to stay on top while I do all this and it. is. hard.

Then I read this.

It's written by a good family friend that I knew growing up. I've been a long-time reader of hers because she has such a way with words that I can't help myself. Today she said exactly what I needed to.

Because - the thing is - in the middle of all this cultural pressure, I find myself looking at my own "someday" and feeling, on the whole, quite satisfied with what I have.

It used to be that someday I would graduate and have a job and teach and be financially independent and be married and have a family and do everything well. Now a good portion of that is here. I did graduate. I have a fantastic job. I teach. I am completely financially independent. I'm not married and I don't have a family and I certainly don't do everything well, but I am happy.

And, if I were being perfectly honest, I think I would be absolutely suffocated if I were home right now with children who couldn't speak yet. I'm not ready for that. I'm content with my room full of noisy teenagers who can mostly take care of their own body fluids. (Though, to be fair, this is likely the partial result of a stomach flu going around school that resulted in a hallway mishap recently. I don't hate small children. I'm just glad I don't have any right this second.)

So much of what I've written about in the last several years of having this blog has been about my convictions on love or dating or social lives in general that, for all my trying to escape the pressure, I've only ever been stuck in a world where I have felt inadequate and unappreciated as a single woman. As though my marital status has been a deterrent in my value or worth, or, if not a deterrent, then not as important. It has left me feeling torn and pressured into doing things for the entirely wrong reasons, just to attempt to relieve that pressure. It's no wonder I can't have fun when I go out on dates: I'm not dating to please myself, I'm dating to please others or to meet some cultural standard.

It sounds selfish, but I don't mean it to. I only mean that my mind has always been in the wrong place. It hasn't ever been: "someday I'll find someone that helps me be happy" - it's always been, "someday I'll find someone and that will make _____ happier with me." Or, "someday I will find someone and then I can have a life like ______."

What I'm trying to say is. . . I can wait. I'm ready to shed the pressure and just be for a while. I like where I am. I'm happy where I am. I don't want to live someone else's life. And I think, for a little while, before I dive back into the fray, I need to take a bit of time to appreciate the life that I have. I do look forward to my "someday" when I am not single and have all it entails in my life, but I am, for now, content with the "some" of "someday" I have.

Broom Cupboards and Ballrooms

I've been thinking a lot this week about an article by Hugh Nibley called "Goods of First and Second Intent." It was from an address given to a group of retired teachers more than twenty years ago, but it is still true. The article discusses the different desires that we can have - goods of first intent that are what make life worth living and you can never get enough of, and goods of second intent that are good for you, but only if you use them to obtain goods of first intent. If they are not used properly, you can become addicted and harmed by them. (Money, for example, is a good of second intent.)

At one point in the article, Nibley points out that most people spend far too much of their time pursuing goods of second intent and neglect the things of eternity - he refers to Arthur Clarke's description of a man who had inherited a magnificent palace but instead preferred to spend all of his time in a broom cupboard.

I've been thinking about this because of an experience I had this week with a parent who, to save you all the frustrating and ridiculous details, pulled her child from my class because I was being too effective. I hold an optional mentoring/study session once a week for students in this class that her son would not be able to attend because of other commitments. After a very interesting conversation the result was pulling the child from the class entirely because she didn't want the child to miss a single breath of what went on in class. (I believe the phrase "I am having difficulty with this 'students are to be responsible' concept" was used.)

This is such a typical attitude in certain circles of my community. They imagine things they way they think it should be, and then one thing shifts or changes or moves the cheese, and the solution is not to adapt, but to throw out everything. The baby, the bathwater, the bathroom, the whole house or neighborhood if necessary - but it all goes.

It baffled me. It still baffles me. It baffles me that this woman would, presumably, have been happier of the study period was a waste of everyone's time instead of a valuable asset. It baffles me that her solution to missing part is to miss all, when her child - as far as I've been able to tell - would be perfectly capable in this class with or without the extra reminders on assignments. It reminds me of an experience I had last year when a student was pulled from my class in the first few weeks of school because the student was stressed about doing well - but mostly because the parent just wanted the kid at home more often. (The kid wanted to stay in class, and would have done well.)

These examples are of parents - who should be the greatest advocates of their children learning and growing in independence and skill - secluding their children away into broom cupboards by force. That makes me feel sick enough as it is. But how often do the rest of us voluntarily turn away from new opportunities or places for growth and stay in symbolic broom cupboards for the rest of our lives? Seems downright claustrophobic to me. There is a world of truth and light out there just waiting to be explored, and I, for one, look better and feel better in a ball gown than I do in rags.

Purging vs. Purification

One of the things about Utah Valley that I struggle with more than almost anything else is how easy it is for people to be sheltered. This became all too clear to me (again) this last weekend while driving students home from the symphony. Several students in the back of the car started talking about how before taking my class they didn't know that there was such a thing as other religions.

A friend of mine told me about a conversation he had with students who believed quite literally that there are people in the world who are not good enough to be with them. (Seriously).

I grew up in an environment that was much more openly diverse. We had to learn quickly that if we were going to have friends, we would need to see beyond the difference and to the parts of that person that made them good.

I was reminded again of this lesson today in Sunday School when studying the story of Zacchaeus in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was the Chief Publican - a supervising tax collector, if you will, who was very likely excommunicated from the church by the rest of the Jews because of his profession. In the story, Zacchaeus, who must have been rather short, hears that Jesus is coming and climbs a tree to catch sight of him. Jesus sees him, tells him to come down, and says that he would like to stay in Zacchaeus' house while he is in the city. The Jews that are with the Savior are confused by this - why would Jesus want to stay in the home of a sinner? Well, for one simple reason: Jesus is a purifier, not a purger.

Zacchaeus, though a Publican, is not wicked. In verse eight Zacchaeus tells Jesus that he gives away half of his belongings to the poor and if he makes any mistakes in his tax collection he returns the money plus four times extra for the inconvenience. He is a man with a strange choice of career in the community, perhaps, but Jesus isn't interested in what he has done wrong, he is interested in what he can become.

The teacher pointed out that there is a difference between purging and purifying. Although both words come from similar roots and are often used synonymously, there is a big difference. To purge something is to focus on getting rid of the bad. For example, when you have the flu, the entirety of your body seems to focus more on getting rid of what is bad than on supporting that which is good. When you purify something, your focus is on seeking out the good so that you can enhance it. The best example probably comes in refining gold, which is heated to a very high temperature. The layers of dross are pulled away until the metal is free of impurities. The focus is on the result, not the cause.

Essentially, purging and purifying accomplish the same thing. But the focus is the important part. When we deal with people (or books, or movies, or new experiences, or food, or. . .) so focussed on getting rid of the bad that we don't have time to focus on the good, or are we so focused on enhancing the good that we find that the impurities have separated out of their own accord because they no longer belong?

It's all about perspective.

A Little More Conversation, a Little Less Knee-Jerk Reaction, Please.

I grew up in what I like to call a morally conservative, artistically liberal household. This means that our values were faith based, but our experiences were not often censored. This is not to say that we spent time running around like hippies - there were still boundaries - but we were given room to explore and determine for ourselves what was and was not right.

I've spent a good deal of time thinking about this lately. How grateful I am for trusting parents who didn't immediately rip books like Go Ask Alice out of my hands because the book is "dirty" (which it is), but instead trusted that I would talk with them about what I was reading and use the experiences of others as a way to find more strength in my own belief system.

I mention this because I've seen more often than I ever have before in my life recently the idea that the world is full of dark, evil things and that the best way to keep evil things from corrupting you is to hide from them completely and not explain why to those around you (particularly in the form of parents talking to their children about the world.) For example, I had a friend tell me of an experience she had at school in a class where a girl (high school junior) was convinced that babies grew in the stomach (and wondered why pregnant women didn't have a baby-sized tumor on their side.) She was corrected by another student who said that babies ACTUALLY grow in the small intestine.

But it's not so simple as basic reproductive understanding, either. There's also a great deal of fear for what is out there. I've seen parents terrified of their children finding out about certain lifestyles or reading certain books that talk about what they don't agree with. Not that there isn't a good time and place (and age) for certain bits of information, and there are certainly books that are inappropriate or full of garbage - but it seems to me that those who live in this way don't understand the basic tenants of Mormon faith.

Our church is founded on the idea of learning for yourself. The church itself would not have even been established if Joseph Smith hadn't been curious. If his parents hadn't allowed him to attend other congregations to try and find truth. It seems to me that people who live this way (or parents who force their children to live this way), are afraid that the truth of the gospel will somehow not be strong enough or true enough to stand up to the diverse ideas of the world. Or perhaps these individuals simply think that the LDS faith has a corner on truth and that there are no other means by which truth can be found or expanded on. (For example, I've known my share of people who don't seem to understand that my faith is strengthened through fiction.)

Ultimately, what this leads to is a population of people who breed fear of the unknown. People who take one look at something that is unfamiliar and immediately interpret it as wicked or somehow 'wrong'. They don't want to talk about or try something new because it might be what they fear it to be. To which I say: Yes. It might be. But it might NOT be. It might be something you could actually talk about. You might actually be strengthened by reading/writing about/listening to/watching an idea that is not like one you currently hold. It's no wonder so many people in this valley live in fear - it's easier to assume the worst and refuse to talk about the truth than it is to actually talk openly about things. Bad things happen when people are left to wonder.

As for me, I feel like my life would be not quite worth living if I spent all my time and energy trying to keep bad things out. I'd rather spend my time seeking out good things, because - as we all know - light will always overpower darkness.