Burning our Feet

It has been said (and often it has been said by me) that the Luther Education department is, how shall we say, overly determined. We Luther students are warned from day one by our tour guides, our advisers, our professors, and even our peers that education is one of the most difficult majors to achieve, and it's even more difficult to do it in four years time. As freshmen, we turned it away, or kept it someplace deep in our subconscious with a grain of salt. We thought that it was all hype and exaggeration and that there would be no such thing as a fiery hoop for us to jump through.

As I write this, I am in the spring semester of my sophomore year in the Luther Education program, and my feet are on fire.

As students, and teenagers, we are quick to express our disgust with the sheer amount of work we have to do in this hustle bustle world of Luther Education. First it's Chalk and Wire, then we learn about the Proficiencies that we must define in that program. We fork out big bucks and we schedule our lives around a test called the PPST, which costs $130, and proves that we can read, do math, and write coherent sentences. Music educators (especially those seeking an instrumental emphasis) do back-flips to make sure their schedules work around their ensembles, so that they are free for the one hour that Double Reeds Methods is offered. They cross their fingers that the class is not full by the time they get to register.

As I look back on my two years of education here, I come to realize just how stressful it was to get everything in order for this moment, the application to the Teacher Education Program. Was it nerve-wracking? Why yes, it was. Was it maddening? At times, certainly. Despite all this, I am happy with what I have been through thus far. As I stated before, I look down from my laptop at which I sit happily typing, and see my feet below me not as flesh and blood as I new them, but having the appearance of brown toast. What am I getting at? Well, I know that as I continue my education here, and as I go out into the field of professional education, I know that my feet will be healed, and covered in callouses.

Luther is tough. This is true. If Luther students were honest with themselves, they would know that it's not just our program that is incredibly difficult. Education is one heck of a job. As I stated in a previous entry, the passion that a person must possess to be able to get through the entire process alive and functioning is superhuman. Luther is preparing us the best way that they know how for the real world of education. I know that when I leave this small part of Iowa, I will be fully ready to teach in an organized, prepared, and self-reliant way that other school's programs have no parallel to. Luther students: Be not afraid. However, if you find yourselves wondering whether or not you can really see yourself as a teacher, it's probably not the right program for you. That being said, everyone has their tough spots. This program is not easy. Work hard, and aim true, and the flames of each hoop will burn you not to harm you, but to prepare you for the bigger fires coming ahead.

Freedom is an Empty Room

This week our class was lucky enough to talk to a wonderful educator, Dr. Doan van Dieu, PhD of Ho Chi Minh University in Vietnam. Dr. van Dieu took us through a presentation of research that he conducted at the University concerning the parent-child relationship in modern Vietnam. What I expected was an eye-opening lecture about the cultural differences between our familiar American culture and the Vietnamese way of life. I received so much more than this.

Most of Dr. Van Dieu's lecture centered around a survey that he conducted on a sampling of his students. He asked them what was important to them as sons and daughters of their parents. One set of questions focused on issues dealing with marraige and choice of marraige partner, and the other set of questions dealt with what kind of values concerning their mother and father are important to them. The combined results were astonishing. The result said that most Vietnamese teenagers would not marry a person if they did not have their parent's consent to. The results also said that the values most important to the Vietnamese youth are filial piety and excellence in their studies. The bottom line was that even though this was the new Vietnam, the free Vietnam, the youth of the country was still strictly obedient and subservient to their elders, especially their parents.

Dr. van Dieu went on to talk about what freedom was in the modern Vietnam. Previously, every marraige was arranged. Children were expected to be obedient at all times. Now, children are allowed to be as independant as they want to be, and make their own decisions about love and marraige. The question that was so puzzling to me was this: What prevented these teenagers from wanting to exercise every freedom that was handed to them by the new and free Vietnam? The answer was simple. As, Dr. van Dieu explained, Vietnam is not free, and neither is anyplace else.

The purest form of freedom, Dr. van Dieu said, was an empty room. In an empty room, when noone is watching, you are free to do whatever you want whenever you please. However, when somebody else is in the room with you, you have to share your freedom. You are no longer free. You are a slave to the collective freedom that rules over both people in the room. When one really thinks about it, love and responsibilities are not freedom, even though a person is free to fall in love and accept responsibility as he pleases. Obedience is not freedom, and neither is gratitude. Freedom is anarchy and lawlessness, and we humans live in a lawful society. We are not free, we are bound by the context of the law, our families and loved ones, and even our very emotions.

So, what does this mean for education and society? To us educators, the answer is clear. We are preparing every child in that classroom for lives of constant law. However, our American culture highly values the creativity in every child. The real question is this: Where is the line between creative deviance and the law? In our bill of rights, it clearly states that we are free to speak freely, yet, to use a classic example, it is unlawful to yell "Fire" in a movie theatre. Do we teach children to challenge authority to let their true creativity come alive, or do we teach them that the rules are there for a reason, and that they must be followed. From what I gathered from our wonderful presentation, the Vietnamese don't think of this issue as pertaining to law, but more concerning ethics. Why does one obey their parents? Because it is right to. On the very same train of thought, who teaches the child what is right and what is wrong? The parents do. Therefore, parents teach their children that obeying them is the right thing to do, and from that point on, expect them to do it, not because the law governs them, but because they do.

As we educators go out into the world, we must think about how we use our freedom. Do we choose to follow the law, or are we constrained by it? Do we push the envelope of our freedom or do we play by the strict rules already in place. This can only be decided on an individual basis. As for this editorial source, I choose to act based on whether or not my actions are right, and not on whether or not my actions are lawful. I choose not to live in a place that makes me follow a law that I do not believe in. That is a freedom that no law can take away.