This morning, I posted a link on my Facebook page to an article about Keith Olbermann’s “Special Comment” regarding the Gabrielle Giffords shooting in Arizona yesterday (see “Olbermann Connects Giffords Shooting To Sarah Palin, Glenn Beck And Apologizes For His Own Remarks”). In the comment I made to accompany that link, I called for a halt to the widespread uncivil, inflammatory and insane political rhetoric in this country — such as the “second-amendment-remedies” remarks from the likes of Sharron Angle, Sarah Palin, and other assorted Tea Partiers.

Within minutes, I had a comment from one of my Facebook “friends” asking if that meant I would now end my expression of impassioned political opinions, noting my agitation about, and name-calling of, many Republicans over the years.

All I can say to this is: wtf, dude?

Are you saying that my opinions, however passionately expressed, have the kind of radical, evil intent (and, indeed, craziness) in them that imply support of assassination, murder and/or attempted murder?

With all due respect, when I make claims such as “George W. Bush is a liar and a war criminal,” there is considerable evidence to support that. And is in no way a call for harm to anyone. For you to infer malicious intent on my part is just plain folly.

And so, dear Facebook friend, in an unprecedented act, I have removed my post and your subsequent comment. You don’t get to insinuate, on my Facebook page (please use your own), that my passion has any relationship to the dangerous (and now murderous) rhetoric put out there by the political right-wing in recent times. You just don’t get to do that.

Graduate education is a unique experience which most of us undertake -- at most -- once or twice in a lifetime. Of course, I happen to be the exception who proves the rule in that I’ve been enrolled in and completed three different graduate programs in fairly disparate fields: organic chemistry, counseling, and higher education administration. My perspective on the graduate student experience is influenced by all of these academic undertakings, as well as the many individuals I have met along the way. In this brief essay, I would like to share with you some of my thoughts on the role of teachers and students in graduate education. I shall begin by explaining my views on graduate school as a socialization process and then outline some expectations for both my students and myself along this academic journey.

When I was a graduate student in organic chemistry, I was certain that the graduate school journey was wholly an intellectual one. In the natural sciences there exists, for each discipline, a rather explicitly defined body of knowledge for which students are held accountable. A not inconsiderable portion of that information was, of course, introduced during the undergraduate major, and I saw graduate school as a time to fill in the gaps, to exercise my intellect, to explore ideas on the cutting edge, to choose a specialty, and to add to the body of knowledge in that discipline. It was expected that one possess (or rapidly develop) an identity as a researcher during one’s graduate school tenure -- and presumably for life. In this incarnation I was a physical organic chemist specializing in free-radical addition reactions as well as quantum-mechanical calculations of hypothetical molecular systems.

Additionally, in the natural sciences, nothing short of total individual commitment to one’s discipline is expected. One shows up to the laboratory early and goes home late; there is always one more problem to solve, one more reaction to run, one more hypothesis or idea to test and/or discuss with a colleague. My most vivid memories of life as a chemistry grad student, for example, are of the times my major professor and I would walk across the street to the nearest coffee shop, “talking shop” the whole of break time, drawing chemical structures on napkins, and offering various hypotheses about what’s happening with our experiments or calculations. Faculty communicate their expectations by living their lives this way. Science is a way of life: nothing less than a seven-day-a-week, twenty-four-hour-a-day commitment to knowledge seeking.

My experience while pursuing a counseling degree was quite different, as you might imagine. In contrast to the purely intellectual pursuits of a scientist, the counselor focuses, to a large degree, on emotional tasks -- both for self and clients. As a student in a counseling program, I found that only about a third of the training was theory; we also concentrated much of our effort on skill development and personal growth. Compared to the life of a scientist, a much more balanced lifestyle was expected for a counselor. A healthy individual, and especially a healthy counselor, was one who modeled and nurtured growth in all dimensions of human existence: intellectual, emotional, physical, and spiritual. Coffee breaks with counselors were not inclined toward theoretical ramblings, but were often truly intimate and emotionally-charged interpersonal exchanges.

As widely different as these two graduate school programs were for me, they did have something in common. During the time I spent in each, the expectations of what it means to be a professional in the field were clearly communicated. It wasn’t part of the formal curriculum (there was no course entitled “On Being a Chemist,” in other words), but it wasn’t difficult to infer the messages being sent. My interpretation of these cues was that scientists were totally dedicated to the advancement of knowledge; counselors were charged with helping to alleviate suffering in the world. Further, scientists specialized and worked around the clock, often paying little attention to other people or things in life; counselors took a holistic approach and paid more attention to the entire person. In sum, much of what I learned in these two programs had as much to do with professional philosophies, and the lives of chemists or counselors, as the knowledge base that was being taught; in each instance I was being socialized into the profession. It is in graduate school, after all, where a student is first immersed in and introduced to the culture of the profession -- which includes all the beliefs, values, assumptions, skills and expectations that apply to the particular field of study when one is finally out there in the “real world.”

The socialization experiences I had in obtaining my two master’s were probably about as different as two programs offering advanced degrees could get. However, I like to think that, between the two, I have evolved into a fairly balanced individual; today I exercise my intellectual and emotional sides and nurture the physical and spiritual dimensions of my being, too. The socialization experience I had in my higher education doctoral program was probably closer in emphasis to my chemistry program in that it was touted as an intellectual and research journey -- despite my a priori belief that administration is more of a calling to serve others (which is how I define counseling). The study of higher education lacks, however, that defined body of knowledge which characterizes a discipline, and, at least in my doctoral program, was not presented in humanistic terms but rather in a somewhat dispassionate, theoretical manner. In truth, I left the program in a rather confused state in terms of professional socialization, a condition which I attributed to the messages provided (or, rather, not provided) by the program’s faculty. Fortunately, I possessed an identity as an administrator in higher education before attempting to formally study the field. Perhaps the best thing I have to say about the professional socialization I experienced is that it did not tamper much with an identity that was already there. As a professor in a college/university leadership program, I hope to avoid leaving the students in confusion about their future role(s) -- and model for them the scholarly, intellectual dimensions of the field, as well as a calling to service, which is my personal orientation toward administration. In short, I’ll strive to nurture both the cognitive and affective dimensions of my graduate students.

Given this view of graduate education as a socialization experience into a profession, then, certain aspects of the process necessarily follow for me. That is, I believe that both teachers and students have certain responsibilities that they should aim to uphold in order to make the experience as successful an educational endeavor as possible. I outline below what I strive for myself and what I ask -- and expect -- of students. In terms of personal expectations, I briefly emphasize here four areas: caring, commitment, communication, and cooperation.

Caring. I try to demonstrate to my students that I care for them as individuals. This stems from my belief that learning and personal growth is next to impossible in an environment where an individual feels intimidated, overwhelmed or, in some other way, unsafe. As best I can, I attempt to make the classroom “warm.” I do this by smiling, frequent eye contact, calling students by their first name, and frequent humor. I also encourage students to call me by my first name (some get the hang of it, some don’t), and use self-disclosure at times, to let students see me as a normal human being -- rather than as an unapproachable professor.

Commitment. I have a strong personal commitment to intellectual achievement as well as personal growth in all non-cognitive dimensions and I try to model this for my students through actions and words. I hope that this commitment is clearly conveyed -- and that my enthusiasm is contagious! I view myself as a serious scholar, one dedicated to the “life of the mind.” But I also like to stress that living in one’s mind all the time is fraught with pitfalls. We need to feel our way through this human experience, too. Above all, I demonstrate my commitment to my students in that attention to their needs comes first. Despite a variety of competing priorities in my life, I have always structured my time so that my students and class preparation are number one.

Communication. Successful communication is the key to all positive relationships and involves both effective verbal and listening skills. I believe that my success in the classroom begins by speaking at the students’ level. As best as I can, I try to put myself in their position and approach the topic at hand from their vantage point. If I use vocabulary that is too advanced, or if I assume knowledge not mastered, then I am not communicating successfully with those students. Although my ultimate goal is for them to achieve at a higher level than where they started, I cannot expect them to do this if I do not respect them where they are and nurture their growth. I do this, in part, with appropriate use of language.

I also demonstrate good communication -- and nurturing behavior -- when I listen. My listening skills, I believe, are one of my greatest strengths as both a counselor and as a teacher. To understand where a student is intellectually, as well as emotionally, requires patience. And one must demonstrate the ability to closely listen to what the student is saying, as well as what they may not be saying. In my experience many teachers would be more effective if they would concentrate on improving their listening skills.

Cooperation. As both a counselor and a teacher I have always been impressed with the power of small groups. Whenever possible, I draw upon the knowledge, expertise, and range of ideas within a class so that we can all learn from each other. As a classroom leader, I strive to empower the group and have them direct their own learning. I prefer to structure class activities that involve group dialog and, at times, group projects. And if for some reason the course is not working or moving along as I envisioned it, I invite the group to design their own learning experience by assisting me in revising the syllabus for the remainder of the term. One of my first rules in both my counseling and teaching roles is: if what you’re doing isn’t working, try something different. In attempting that “something different” during the progression of a semester, I use information supplied by the group.

The preceding four areas are the ones I am the most conscious of as I attempt to assess my work with students, both in and out of the classroom. I know, however, that I don’t always succeed in being the most patient instructor or the best listener to a student who is in need of attention. The comments I receive from students on the evaluations every semester tell me that I do a pretty decent job in these areas, though.

Of course, as I have mentioned, I have expectations for my students. Most agree that I set fairly high standards -- and that they are about the same regardless of the level of student: underclassman, upperclassman, or graduate student. There is just one key word that I use when describing the role of the graduate student: responsibility.

First, students must be responsible for the basics of good student behavior, that is, showing up (wasn’t it Woody Allen who said that showing up is 80% of life?), paying attention, and doing the work. I don’t believe that students can be very serious about their academic experience without at least observing these three basics. But beyond these elementary requirements, I expect students to take a high level of responsibility for their own learning. My students need to participate actively. Passive learning (such as me talking and them listening) is not a common practice in my classroom. My students need to communicate with me and each other and to search out their own “truths” -- and if they can’t find those, then they need to, at the very least, begin to identify the questions that are most important for them. My approach to the classroom can often lead to frustration unless students understand what I’m trying to do. I don’t supply the answers; but I do try to develop really good questions. Unless students see themselves as responsible for their own learning -- and unless I can communicate this philosophy to them -- then semesters can be very long periods of time to endure.

Finally, in the area of students’ responsibility for their own learning, I encourage and expect them to use their graduate school experience to experiment with new ways of thinking and behaving. Where else in American life today is it still as safe to take risks as it is on a campus? Even if the new ways are ultimately rejected, such information is invaluable for a person. I view the experience of being human as an art form, and I encourage free expression and new ways of looking at the world for my students.

Learn to take risks. Be free. Ask questions. Find your own truths. This is what graduate school is all about.

Introduction

I have a new friend who lives far, far away. She is so distant, in fact, that it’s entirely possible we may never meet in person. She knows me through Twitter, this blog, frequent emails, and the occasional IM session. She has a lot of information about me available to her, of course, as I’ve laid out the good, bad, and ugly details of my life on the internet for three and a half years now. Reportedly, she’s read a lot of this material; and I know she reads my long and intimate emails as carefully as I read hers.

I feel as if I’ve recently been significantly challenged by her, though. It’s as if she’s digested everything about me, including the two “This I Believe” essays (“On Being Present” and “Listening and Leadership”) and is saying to me, “yeah, yeah, yeah, Jim ... I know that’s what you believe.” And that she’s read the other stories, rants & raves – ridden the emotional waves – and is still waiting on me for more: “yeah, yeah, yeah, Jim ... I know that’s what’s happened to you.”

And, now, she’s asking me, “tell me more, Jim ... what do you really believe? Who are you, really?”

And, so, this essay is the result of the attempt to organize a few thoughts along those lines. I’m not sure that what you’ll find here are actually answers, though ... you’ll have to decide that for yourself. For even after you read this, in all probability you’ll still be left wondering ...

By providing this analysis of “who I am,” of course, I’m anticipating that the portrait I paint is consistent with the information you’ve already seen ... and, in fact, that an inductive analysis of the mass of qualitative data provided in these pages would lead to the broad themes I outline below. Please! ... do not think, however, that this is a “scientific approach” to talking about my life’s mission; it decidedly is not. In fact, what I’m doing here is reaching down into the bowels of my being and attempting to convey some ideas about what I believe about life, and how I go about living this life.

I’ve had a little bit of practice writing in this area. When I began studies for my counseling master’s degree, one of the essays I was required to produce was entitled “The Nature of People.” This was an assignment that required all of the newbie aspiring counselors to outline, as explicitly as we could, how we believed people “worked” (i.e., if you’re going to help people with their problems, you must have some underlying philosophy about their basic “nature”). I toiled and toiled away on my assignment for a few weeks, then had one of the doctoral students critique my draft.

“Well, Jim, this looks like a good start,” he said. (As, head down, I returned to the typewriter.)

So, perhaps, what I’ve outlined for you here is merely another good start. Let’s see, shall we? Of course, I’m aware of the risks of self-disclosure on this level: you may end up thinking that my entire belief system is wholly superficial, no more profound than “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” (I confess: I offer no new ideas here.) Even more on point, though, might be the observation that everything I have ever needed to know about living, life, and the spiritual path, just might have been gleaned from an old bootlegged Ram Dass audiotape (“The Seasons of Our Lives,” from the late 1970s) – a recording that I’ve listened to over and over again throughout the years. [Much of that material is also to be found in Dass’ book Grist for the Mill (Unity Press, 1977).] Then, you’ll discover below that I’ve pulled some quotes from Angles Arrien’s Four-Fold Way: a worldview that has been influential in my thinking about what a life’s work entails.

Therefore: here I go with some ideas about “who I am” by examining “why am I here?” For the purposes of this essay, I’m going to treat the questions as equivalent; that is, by examining why I am here, I’m suggesting that this is who I am. I’ll let the philosopher in you, the reader, argue (or not) with that premise. It will be obvious that I’m not speaking from any “religious” orientation ... in fact, this a highly eclectic spiritual (and/or philosophical) model I espouse. And, of course, since this is an essay for a blog, the points I outline here are mostly short and to the point. (Who likes book-length blog entries, anyway?!)

Why Am I Here?

I believe that we humans are spiritual beings who take form on this earth for a purpose: that we are incarnated and take on bodies to “do our work.” And that everyone’s work is different. I am certain of my purpose, and simply put:

I am here to learn and grow.

Of course, you may ask, isn’t everyone on earth here to learn and grow? In my opinion, it’s just a matter of where those items fall among life’s priorities from person to person. For me, the emphasis on “learning and growing” should be readily apparent, for if you know anything about me, you realize that I’ve been in school a lot of my life and collected four college degrees along the way. You might say I have an obsession, or lust, for learning, in all its forms: from classrooms, books, life experiences, career changes, relationships, emotional risk-taking, physical pain, and heartbreak & depression (to name a few) ... I take my learning wherever I can find it. My learning is not only for the purpose of intellectual development, but for the other dimensions of my life as well: growth in the domains of the physical, emotional and spiritual.

Now, to be slightly more specific, I briefly outline below some of the areas of learning that I think about all the time, and tend to be near the top of my consciousness-level as I go about my daily routines.

I am here to learn how to be present, open my heart, and offer my love.

I have written here previously about my belief in the importance of “being present.” It is a primary mission for me to live in the present: to be aware of myself and my surroundings, and, at all times, strive to know what I am thinking and feeling. Concurrently, it is my goal to tune in and be there for others on the most basic of levels: one soul to another. I open my heart, accept others as they are, and aim to love them unconditionally.

Ram Dass implores us thusly: “I say to you very simply, and very directly, what happens to another human being in your presence is a function of who you are, not what you know. And who you are is everything that you’ve every done and all the evolution that has occurred thus far. Your being is right on the line every time you meet another human being. And what they get from you through all the words of love or kindness or giving is very simply a function of your own level of evolution ... What we do for each other is we create a space ... that allows each other to do what we need to do ... we each have our own work to do in this incarnation.”

My beliefs and Dass’ words appear to be consistent with Angeles Arrien’s Way of the Warrior or Leader. This is described as “showing up, or choosing to be present. Being present allows ... access to the human resources of power, presence, and communication ... the way of the Leader [is expressed] through appropriate action, good timing, and clear communication.”

I am here to learn to live honestly, openly, authentically, and with integrity. I am here to learn how to lead, and more importantly, to provide a model for moral leadership.

I am not here to keep secrets about who I am. I am here to be open and let the world in: to tell you what’s going on with me, honestly, and in the moment. It is critical for me to live consistently within the framework of my dearly-held and inner-most beliefs and values (which is what I am trying to express here). I do not compromise my principles for the sake of expediency or personal gain. When I’m in a leadership role, which is my typical situation, it’s with a high sense of moral responsibility and obligation: to provide the most evolved model of leadership of which I am capable.

Arrien’s Way of the Visionary or Creative Problem Solver suggests that we aim “to tell the truth without blame or judgment. Truthfulness, authenticity, and integrity are keys to developing ... vision and intuition ... expressing the way of the Visionary through personal creativity, goals, plans, and the ability to bring life dreams and visions into the world.”

I am here to learn how to heal myself and others. I am here to learn how to be the best possible version of myself.

I have lived a huge portion of this lifetime learning and living with an inadequate model for giving and receiving love. And I’ve learned other dysfunctional ways of being that have led to profound experiences of physical and psychic pain. It’s my mission in this lifetime to learn about these unhealthy paths, to overcome them, and learn about living “right” and “healthy.” I believe it to be my obligation to teach others about my struggles and the “solutions” I’ve discovered. I know that when I am living in pain, I am not displaying the best possible version of myself. I am here to learn how to live with a minimum of pain and to share that person, my best possible self, with the universe.

Ram Dass reminds us: “And the injunction given to the physician ‘heal thyself,’ is right at the mark because we are here to talk about our own work on ourselves, because that is our gift to each other and it’s also what we’re doing here on earth in the first place.”

Arrien’s Way of the Healer or Caretaker is to “pay attention to what has heart and meaning. Paying attention opens ... to the human resources of love, gratitude, acknowledgment, and validation ... [and] the way of the Healer is expressed through ... attitudes and actions that maintain personal health and support the welfare of our environment.”

I am here to learn how to let go.

I have had a tendency toward over-control in my life: believing and acting as if I could actually change another person, determine the outcome of a situation, and/or just generally “be in charge.” I am still learning, often painfully, to accept that there is really nothing I am able to control: not another person, not their perception of or feelings about me, not any situation, nor life crisis. Nothing. Learning to invest myself completely in another person or in a situation, and then letting go of outcome, is one of the most significant of my life’s lessons; it’s perhaps the one I’ve struggled with the most. My tendency toward perfectionism, and my desire for “justice” and “rightness,” have led me down a path where it’s been difficult for me to let go of outcome. I am here to learn to be not perfect, and to let go.

Ram Dass advises: “The implication of “perfect,” if you want to deal with the concept of God ... if I say ... ‘God, what are you doing, why are you screwing up?’ ... I, who have this little teeny limited vision, mainly controlled by my rational mind, which is a little subsystem of a little subsystem, it isn’t even a very interesting way of knowing the universe, I sit there like this little ant on an elephant and say to him ‘you really blew it that time.’ I say ‘you really blew it that time’ – you know where I say that from? – I’m saying it from my own fear of death ... If I’m attached to you being other than the way you are now, I’m saying to God, ‘if I had made him, I would have made him different than he is now,’ and I [then I hear] my guru saying ‘don’t you see that it’s all perfect?’”

And Angeles describes that the Way of the Teacher or Counselor is to “be open to outcome, not attached to outcome. Openness and non-attachment help ... recover the human resources of wisdom and objectivity. The way of the Teacher is expressed through ... constructive communication ....”

Summary & Conclusion

So, to summarize, I know that I am here to learn to: be present, open my heart, live authentically, model integrity and moral leadership, heal myself, let go, and to love. It’s my way of approaching the universe, a lifetime’s worth of busy-ness. These are the lessons I have to learn, the tasks I need to perform. It’s the “who I am.”

But is this all that I am? All that I do, all that I have to learn? Well, no, but it’s what comes to mind right now. (And it’s a start.) I’m tempted to add some additional thoughts about how the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism play into my philosophy of life, and their relationship to the learning areas described above ... but this monologue has gone on long enough. And I have touched on the Four Noble Truths in at least one previous discussion (see “Freedom and Release,” for example, from January, 2006).

In conclusion, I am compelled to observe that I feel extremely unfinished as a human. There’s so much to learn, so little time. For, as Jimmy Buffett suggests “... still twenty four hours maybe sixty good years, it’s not that long a stay.”

Soundtrack Suggestion

Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) 
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) 
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) 
’Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

(“Who Are You” – The Who)

Dear TechnoMonk,

Thank you for submitting an essay to This I Believe. Your essay has now completed our review process. Though your essay was not chosen for broadcast on NPR, the larger goal of our project is to open a community conversation about belief--one essay at a time. To that end, we have placed your essay in the This I Believe online database.

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We are honored by your having shared your most closely held convictions with us. Thank you, sincerely, for participating in our project.

Inspired by NPR’s This I Believe series...

I’ve always prided myself on my openness, my honesty, and my emotional availability. Over the course of my lifetime, I’ve frequently received favorable comments regarding these qualities. This despite the fact that I’m a guy and I know lots of men (maybe most) who have absolutely no clue what the term “emotional availability” might mean. Or how to invoke it.

These particular traits are consistent with the guiding philosophy of my life, namely: I believe in being present. In expressing this belief, I’m talking about something a lot deeper than Woody Allen’s quip of “showing up is 80 percent of life.” No: I intend something decidedly more profound — of much greater difficulty level — than simply being physically located in a particular place at a particular time.

In truth, I believe that being present is the secret of life: that without the ability to be present, I’d really be missing out on what the total human experience has to offer. Being present takes energy, though, so it’s likely the reason that most people avoid it, don’t practice it, and just generally find some other way to go about their business.

The way I see it, being present is manifested both in my relationship to self and my relationship to others.

In my relationship to self, being present means that I’m aware in the moment. I’m tuned in to my emotions. I know that I’m breathing in and out. I have a keen sense of my surroundings. I sense all that’s going on around me and what kind of meaning I’m making of these events: realizing that my experience is not necessarily “reality.” Being present means that I’ve left all previous moments behind...and that I’m not wasting energy anticipating future ones. It’s living in the here and now. It’s making the most of the time I have been given. It’s a paradigm that guides me to take advantage of every single instant of this preciousness called life.

I also believe, however, that the highest level of being present takes the form of being available for someone else. Being present for another may take the form of simply silently sitting. It surely involves total focus and really listening when they speak. It means not interrupting. It’s immediacy: it means seeking deep understanding of the other person’s experience in the moment. It’s being curious about them and setting aside all judgments. It’s eye contact and empathy and softness. And maybe the occasional touch. It means being available for another person to share themselves. Totally. With complete safety. In my presence.

Being present is not “the truth,” though I believe it is “the way.” I believe that being present, for yourself or another, is the greatest gift you can give. Or receive.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Mornings in April 
Sharing our secrets 
We’d walk until the morning was gone. 
We were like children 
Laughing for hours 
The joy you gave me lives on and on. 
’Cause I know you by heart.

(“I Know You By Heart” – Eva Cassidy)