Step 9: Perseverance

"With ordinary talent and extraordinary perseverance, all things are attainable." ~ Thomas Foxwell Buxton

I've known some people in my life who are so brilliant, so capable, and yet they never seem to reach heights that are well within their grasp. They toil away in jobs that aren't quite right. They miss the opportunity for love, for community impact, for profound influence because they weren't willing to put in just a bit more effort. My father was one of these people. He had a truly brilliant mind and could have been the leading clinical psychologist of his day. Unfortunately, he thought the world should reward him specifically because he was brilliant. He didn't realize the world doesn't work that way.

And then I've known people of fairly modest talent who were just relentless in their efforts, and achieved not only what was within their natural reach, but also successes that no one else thought possible. It's the people in this latter group who have been my greatest teachers. They showed me that the world rewards those who work as hard as they can and give the best they've got everyday. The world rewards commitment, particularly commitment that perseveres in the face of great adversity.

I thought about this ideal this morning when I found out that my after-school education program with Citizen Schools starts the week of February 8th, not the week of February 25th as I had originally planned. This accelerates the time line I now have to work under. I'm going to have to shuffle around some other commitments so that my first few lessons plans are created and edited in time for the class. I've been collecting resources for several months and now is the time to just sit down and plow through the work.

And then I paused as I looked at all of these resources, most from designers of incredible talent. I appreciate design and use the tools of a designer in my profession as a product developer, though I am not a traditionally trained designer. I didn't go to art school and I'm not an engineer. My product development skills have been self-taught. I'm a volunteer teacher, though I don't have a degree from an education school and I don't have a teacher certification. My teaching skills have also been self-taught. To top it off, I'll be teaching in a school in East Harlem with more than its fair share of challenges: it is the lowest performing school in the Citizen Schools portfolio. 87% of the students receive free or reduced-price lunch (this is an indicator that 87% fall at or below the poverty line), 86% read below grade level, and 78% have math skills below grade level.

I leaned back in my chair, and asked myself, "What exactly are you doing, Christa?" But I didn't ask this question with an air of despair or fear. I asked myself the question to mean, "What is the heart of the matter here? What gifts do you have to give these children who need you so much?" With that motivation in mind, any trace of trepidation disappeared.

I have modest design talents with extraordinary passion, empathy, and determination to back them up. I grew up below the poverty line, and still many adults believed in my talents and abilities. Now its my turn to manifest that same belief in these children. I'm paying forward the great and good gifts that so many people gave me when I was in school.

My idea to use design as the backbone to engage students in the learning process is not revolutionary; many people have thought of this idea, and many of them are far better designers than I am. No matter. There are so many children who need help, so many children who need an adult to show up for them and take a vested interest in their lives and education, that it is impossible for me to not have a profound impact in this field. My own individual commitment and perseverance is the only limitation on the amount of good I can do with this program, and I've got both of those in spades.

My Year of Hopefulness - Playing Games

I woke up this morning to rainy skies and a little knot in my stomach. This is the week that I begin my verbal review for the GRE, and I'm having some anxiety over it. My friend, Allan, made me stop beating myself up over my seemingly large deficiency in vocabulary. Honestly, I don't recognize half of the words on the GRE as English. Allan clued me in to the fact that no one recognizes these words as English because no one actually ever uses them. I felt mildly better. No matter - they're showing up on the test, and I have to learn them.

When I was little, I used to play the dictionary game with my mom. I'd open the dictionary to any word, and she would give the definition of the word. I never, ever stumped her. She knew every word, no matter how archaic it was. I couldn't understand it. How did she know all of these words? And how come I didn't know any of them? Why do I still feel like I don't know any of them now?

Begrudgingly, I went to my 3 inch thick GRE prep book, and started making my flashcards with a heavy heart. And then I decided I had better get with it. I had better make a game out of this or I am doomed to not do well. And I can't afford a low score. I just can't - PhD programs are competitive and every piece of an application counts.

The GRE book is full of helpful hints, and as I learned each hint I saw puzzle pieces falling into place. Now I know how my mom could figure out all of those words. She took many years of Latin, requiring her to learn a variety of roots, suffixes, and prefixes. Our language is largely made of little pieces that are recombined again and again in different ways. For example, "mal-" means bad, so words beginning with "mal-" likely have a negative meaning. It also means bad in Spanish, so knowing a foreign language helps enormously when deciphering new vocabulary words because English is largely a language of other languages. My mother speaks French and Latin, so it's no wonder the size of her English vocabulary is through the roof!

As my GRE studying progressed, I found myself getting more and more excited about it. I found myself finally, finally understanding pieces of our language I never knew before. Studying for the GRE isn't just to gain entrance to a program; it's actually beneficial for my life and for my writing. Now when I read, I have an eye on roots and suffixes and prefixes. I see arguments being pieced together with new insights that I never saw before. I see polygons and parallel lines and acute and obtuse angles everywhere I turn. The basis of the GRE is all around us. And while I've seen all of these things before, I'm now noticing them with new eyes and a new found curiosity.

My learning took a great leap forward today. It's so easy, and more than a little tempting, to get lost in our books and studies. The real power of our studies is when we can pick our eyes up from our books, look out into the world, and see that opportunities for learning, and application of our learning, is all around us. Or better yet, our learning helps us to see what could be out in the world, and gives us the tools and the resolve to go make it happen. Whoever said games were only for kids?

My Year of Hopefulness - Sonic Yoga

It seems that I just cannot resist the pull of being a student again. Some people can't wait to get out of school and spread their wings. The moment I graduate, I'm trying to figure how to continue to be a student. Call it an addiction. Weez, my sister, tells me that my end goal in life is to figure out how to be a professional student. She, as usual, is right.

In 2004, I took a weekend course through Yoga Fit that gave me a very basic teacher certification. This was before Yoga Alliance became the true gold standard. I have taught free classes to friends and colleagues though now, after many years of practice, I have decided that I want to be more dedicated to my practice and to join the community of fully-certified teachers. For the practice that has given me so much, it is now my turn to provide the comfort of yoga to others through teaching. I've been trying out a lot of different studios in New York - we are blessed with many! - and doing research on different teacher training programs. While they have been amazing finds, none of them felt quite right to me until today when I stepped into Sonic Yoga in Hell's Kitchen.

The gracious and masterful Johanna quickly put me at ease, put the entire packed classroom at ease. I knew I found my home. Sonic Yoga is not fancy; it's homey, comfortable, and filled with so much positive energy and warmth. People laugh in class; it's one of the few places in New York where you are encouraged to not put on a show, but to just be exactly as you are.

Today's lesson was about surrender, letting go of the stories we tell ourselves, freeing ourselves from situations in life that just aren't working for us. Johanna asked us to continue to repeat one of the following three mantra throughout our class - "I surrender", "I don't know", or "not my will". She asked us not to choose the one that felt the best to us, but rather to choose the one that bothered us the most. "I don't know". Those words haunt me. At one point during the class, they made my eyes tear up. I'm tearing up now just thinking about this. My life is on very uncertain ground right now. While I know what I want and have an idea how to get there, I am having to give up a lot of the stories that have sustained me in order to make the change.

I am now in the process of turning away from things in my life that just don't fit. And I don't care what anyone says - the process of good-bye is hard. Even when we know we need to let something go for our own good, it still hurts. There are dreams that have to be put to rest. There are people who aren't good for us. There are situations that we must remove ourselves from. I'm now in the process of deciding what dreams, people, and situations those are. And while I have my eye fixed on the horizon of the new life I am so excited about, it means surrendering some aspects of my life now that I love. There are no certainties in life; there are many things that we don't know, that we can't know. We must learn to be comfortable with not knowing.

Throughout the 90 minute class, I would repeat to myself "I don't know". I kept reminding myself that I can do this; I can surrender, even if it hurts. Keep a stuff upper lip and just muscle through. And then Johanna said, "you don't like those words, do you?" "No," I thought, "I don't." And then as if inside my head, Johanna said, "that's okay. Acknowledge how hard this is, how much it bothers you. And then keep going." So I did the only thing I was certain I could do. I could keep going through the asanas. I could keep moving, even with tear-filled eyes, even with a heavy heart, even while saying good-bye, I could keep moving toward my beautiful life ahead.

My Year of Hopefulness - First Day NY

A friend of mine from college recently invited me to join a Facebook Group for First Day NY, a program that looks for volunteers to sponsor New York City children for their first day of school. I signed up immediately and today received some information about the child I'll be sponsoring. She's 14 years old (and I assume heading into 9th grade), wants to be a nurse, and loves language arts. My mission is to get her a backpack, a first day of school outfit, and an age-appropriate book based on her interests.

It's been so long since I thought about the first day of 9th grade. I started high school that year and I remember being so nervous. All my same friends from middle school went with me since my town only had one set of schools. There were kids who were so much bigger and smarter than me. They played sports and ran clubs. How would I find my classrooms? Would boys like me? And the dreaded cafeteria, every 14 year old girl's nightmare. The movie Mean Girls comes to mind.

The other piece of my mission for the child I'm sponsoring is to write a note of encouragement. "We would like your child to know someone out there cares about their success...with this note you can offer a window into the world of opportunity that awaits them if they always do their best and stay in school." I'm not ashamed to say I teared up a little upon reading this instruction from First Day NY. This is more than just a backpack and some clothes for a 14 year old; it's a signal to her that there are people out here cheering her on, people who believe in her potential.

As I think back, 9th grade is the time when I realized that if I worked really hard, I could go anywhere and do anything. That year opened up a new gateway to the whole rest of my life, and how I thought about my purpose in the world. And now I think I have the beginning to my note of encouragement...

If you'd like to get involved with First Day NY, please visit their website: http://www.firstdayny.org/

A little fall of rain

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. ~ Jane Austen

Right now I'm reading Frank McCourt's Teacher Man, and I've just finished watching the 5th season of The Gilmore Girls on DVD, both of which are conjuring up old memories for me. All this, coupled with the rain, and there's no way to avoid nostalgia, and maybe a bit of regret. 

While my student days were less than ideal for a whole host of reasons, I still miss the thought of being a student, of dedicating my days to reading, to being involved in the school community with an entire world of people my age just outside my door. Though I studied so hard, a part of me wishes I had worked even harder, that had been more concerned with reading the classics than making sure I was doing everything right. I wish that I could have worried less about money, making friends, finding my calling - I wish I could have worried less, period. 

As a kid, and particularly as a student, I used to dread the rain. I always felt the world knew more than I did, and by raining it was signaling to me that bad news was on the way. I hated sloshing through it with a backpack that was much too heavy, trying to shield myself with an umbrella that would invariably be blown inside-out by some nasty gust.

As an adult, I have come to love the rain, even wishing for it when we've had too many sunny days in a row. I love the sound it makes on rooftops and sidewalks, love the booming of thunder, and the rush of a strong wind. I love the idea of washing away the happenings of the day before, and the day before that. I love the cleaning feeling it leaves the world, just after it's subsided. These are days I hole up inside my tiny apartment and dream, and remember.

The above photo can be fond at http://www.artshole.co.uk/arts/artists/Mike%20Hale/raindrop-chaircover-sepia.jpg