Category: learning

education, learning, teaching

Step 197: Teaching as Service

Christa Avampato

“Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

The syllabus for my LIM College class is coming together. We’ve worked through some required reading choices, made some structural decisions, and began the search for final project ideas that the students will work on in teams. I’m an exceptional student, and I’m learning fast that there is not a direct correlation between student skills and teaching skills. Previously, I thought there was a strong linkage. Teaching, unlike studying, takes us to the very edge of our learning every time. We can only teach what we truly know and embody.

I have a lot to learn about how a college operates, how staff and faculty work with one another, and how to make a mountain of information palatable and intriguing for college students. I have no doubt that I’ll get there – it’s just going to take loads of muscle power on my part.

As I left my meeting at LIM this morning, I thought about the correlations between teaching and leadership. I have always believed that being a leader is not telling people what to do – it’s about paving the way for others to spread their wings. It’s about providing resources, support, and a knowledgable, empathic ear. It’s about helping people be the very best they can be.

Teaching, as I see it now, is the same thing. Give students some knowledge, resources, and a structure that fosters their own creative thinking. And again, that empathic ear is as useful in the classroom as it is in the boardroom.

As a new adjunct faculty member, I’m a student as well. I’m learning how to craft a syllabus and then bring it to life. I’m learning about new teaching technologies as my class will be done half in the classroom and half online. From the other side of the table, I’m now crafting and analyzing grading systems, workloads, objectives, and then figuring how to map objectives and tie them into weekly lesson plans.

I’m a doer – the strategic thinking phase of a project, I will admit, is not my favorite. I want to roll up my sleeves and get to work. I need to tinker and test and try on these teaching shoes. I’m anxious to get into the classroom, meet the students, and begin.

On my way out from LIM this morning, I saw the Henry David Thoreau quote on their bulletin board and I took a deep breath. It’s okay, and actually a privilege, to be at the beginning. And the more time (within reason) we spend at the beginning, the better the end result will be. Every task, just like every fruit, has its season. Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Thoreau.

learning, work, yoga

Step 130: Climbing and Coasting

Christa Avampato

The downhill path is easy, but there’s no turning back.” ~ Christina Georgina Rossetti, British poet

We have all types of negative connotations that refer to climbing uphill: ‘an uphill battle’, ‘a vertical learning curve’, ‘moving up the corporate ladder’, ‘getting to hump day in the work week’. Last week my yoga teacher, Jeffrey, talked to us about the joy that’s found in the uphill climb. If the different kramas (stages) of an asana (a yoga posture) are akin to how a mountain climber ascends up a slope, he encouraged us to be at whatever stage we are and enjoy the view. If we can only do headstand prep and not full free-standing headstand, then he asked us to consider how powerful that prep posture is and the benefits we are receiving from it. It works in yoga, and it works in life.

While coasting requires very little effort, whether we’re talking about yoga, careers, relationships, or any other part of our lives, it’s tough to turn back and take advantage of the views that we had the opportunity to see on the upside of the climb. They go whizzing down the mountain too quickly. As we head downhill, there’s less time for learning.

It’s not that the downhill offers no value at all. It does provide us with the opportunity to reflect upon everything we learned on the climb. On the downhill, we can bask in the glory of all the work we did in the ascent. We get to feel proud of our accomplishments, and the joy we find and exhibit is an inspiration to others to start their own climbs.

The key to happiness may just be to enjoy wherever we are, knowing that it’s all temporary, that we’ll have many uphills and downhills, and that each has something magnificent to offer us on the journey.

learning, yoga

Step 118: Getting What We Need

Christa Avampato

“Some people say, ‘I’m really inflexible so I don’t do yoga.’ That’s like saying, ‘I’m really hungry so I don’t eat.’ Silly.” ~ Will, my yoga teacher

Will told us this quote as we were talking about the importance of a regular practice, whatever it is we’re practicing. Regularity breeds mastery. To shy away from developing a practice because of something we lack isn’t logical. We practice so we can learn something. There’s no point in practicing something we already do perfectly. There’s no such thing as more perfect.

As we consider taking up a practice of any kind, what if we turned our attention toward something we want to improve or learn from scratch? I wanted to be a better writer, so I decided to write every day. Some of the pieces I wrote were terrible, and after a while I really started to see progress. By continually working on my craft, I did get better. Same is true for my yoga, and most recently for my meditation.

We all have to start somewhere; sometimes we start at zero. My friend, Brooke, has a great line about learning: ‘At birth, we all started at zero.’ Everything we can do now at one point didn’t exist at all. Go get what you need in order to achieve what you want to achieve. Don’t worry if you’re not any good at it now. You’ll get better.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

change, learning, nature

Step 78: Lessons from Winter

Christa Avampato

I’m ready to say good-bye to Winter. I’m not someone who dreads the cold – I actually enjoy it. I like sweaters and boots and jeans. I like the snow and the look of the Winter sky. I like cocooning. Johanna, one of yoga teachers, was quick to remind us that without Winter, there can be no spring; without death there is no rebirth.

So while it was my first inclination to kick Winter to the curb, I realized that wasn’t a good idea. Winter deserves a proper good-bye. Maybe even a thanks. I learned a lot this winter. Tough lessons, yes, but ones that were so necessary. Lessons that I would live a lesser life without.

Lessons from Winter:
1.) We all have limits. Acknowledging them gives us the opportunity to challenge ourselves and improve our decision-making, thereby increasing our levels of happiness in the long-run.
2.) There’s no glory in having every minute of free time packed to the gills; spontaneity brings great joy.
3.) It’s okay to sit with loss; it’s okay to feel a little empty; it’s okay to have room in our lives because room offers the chance for new beginnings.
4.) “I don’t know” is not a declaration of weakness; it’s the very beginning of something that will come to be.

So long winter, and thank you for teaching me in spite of the difficulty of the task. Because of you, my Spring and Summer is now set to be far happier than they would have been without you. I’ll see you in December, when I’m sure you’ll arrive with even more lessons that I will undoubtedly need. Next time, I’ll be a more willing student.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

education, learning, politics, religion

Step 3: Things I Don’t Know

Christa Avampato

Last night I was settling back in to my New York apartment while the wind whistled through my windows. It was so loud at one point that I couldn’t sleep so I flipped on the TV to CNN. Chistiane Amanpour was reporting about Muslim radical extremists in the U.K. Though I watch the news regularly and read several newspapers, there are some topics that still confuse me. The complex network of Muslim radical extremist groups is one of them. I know all the vocabulary though I don’t know how it all hangs together. And this bothers me.

I started thinking about all of the things that I know just a little about, and how much it bothers me to have holes in my knowledge. I don’t like the phrase “I know enough just to be dangerous.” I’d much prefer to know enough so as not be dangerous but be able to speak intelligently on a topic.

In this new year, there are a few topics that I’d really like to dig into and understand in depth. Here are a few of them:

1.) WHAT – I know little to nothing about Islam and its many factions. I’d like to take a small step toward piecing together the popular vocabulary that surrounds this religion. It’s influence is growing in leaps and bounds, dominating our news waves. I should understand it more clearly if I’m to have a greater understanding of our own foreign policy.

HOW – My friend, Amy, is very well-versed in the topic so I’m going to ask her to give me a little crash course during one of our catch-ups. I’ll also ask her for some primer books, blogs, and news services that would be a good reference for me.

2.) WHAT – I’ve been practicing yoga for a decade though have not read some of the sacred texts that serve as its base. I also don’t know the Sanskrit names for all of the asanas (poses).

HOW – At the end of February I am going to begin a very intense yoga teacher training program to master this material. Every other weekend, I’ll be practicing 9 hours on Saturday and 9 hours on Sunday, for 14 weeks. In addition, the program also requires meeting 3 times per week after work, independent reading and writing assignments, and class attendance at the studio once per week. It is a rigorous program that will require a great deal of focus, though my passion for the art and science of yoga will make the rigor a welcome circumstance.

3.) WHAT – The news stories I love most are those that showcase the Power of One. I’d love to read more of these stories in 2010 to understand the psychology of this personality type, and there are a few people that particularly intrigue me. There are several sources that catalog the journeys of these kind of people. Two I particularly like are NBC’s Making a Difference segment and Dafna Michaelson’s 50 in 52 Journey.

HOW – I’ve ordered a few books that share the stories of Geoffrey Canada, the Founder of Harlem Children’s Zone, and William Kamkwamba, the 14 year old in Malawi who built a windmill for his family armed only with a local library book. These are incredible stories of people who saw a need in their communities and set to work to meet that need with little or no resources except their own ingenuity and passion. Could anything be more inspiring?

education, game, learning, student

My Year of Hopefulness – Playing Games

Christa Avampato

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?

change, learning, travel

My Year of Hopefulness – Turn Right at the Fancy House

Christa Avampato

(Internet has returned to my house in Costa Rica so I can begin recording all of my experiences here so long as the connection holds – ‘via a Dios’.)

I am famously bad with directions. I never know where I’m going, even with a map. I have to repeat the same path many times over and mentally make note of landmarks along the way. I suppose I could hunker down and just get a little bit better at this skill, though to be honest I’ve just gotten comfortable feeling lost. I enjoy it because every road, whether I’ve been on it or not, is a new adventure this way.

Imagine my great happiness to learn that there is an entire country full of people with this same issue! In Costa Rica, there are no postal addresses. There is barely a postal service at all. Address are something akin to ‘go 25 meters east from the large yellow building with the slat windows and blue shutters, then turn north at the Soda Pollo (literally means Chicken Restaurant) and go another 100 meters until you reach two little stray dogs, one brown and one black, that are always outside an orange house’. As our program manager, Santi, said when giving us directions to our volunteer placement, “Turn right at the fancy house and walk up the hill.”

This is the greatest pleasure of travel – to learn the customs and history and culture of other people, to realize that our little lives in our little cities, no matter how big they are, are just one tiny slice of life on this planet. We learn that there are so many other options to conduct our lives. For people like me who are considering a jump off the cliff, travel helps us see that what to us seems like a big risk is not really a big risk at all. It is just a step change; it is just a different choice and this realization is a great comfort.

There are so many people on my program who made this same leap into a different life. Their courage is encouraging me, inspiring me. I know I am here in the lovely town of Cartago, today, for a very specific reason. I know I was brought here at this time in my life to help me see that this different way forward that I imagine is not only possible, but probable, bordering on certainty. The comfort I am finding in this house, with these people, in this town, in this beautiful and loving country, is a great gift.

children, education, learning, opportunity, poverty

My Year of Hopefulness – No Choice but to Help

Christa Avampato

Sometimes people ask me why I feel so called to service, why I feel passionately about giving back, particularly in the areas of education and poverty. Why do I spend time in the South Bronx and East Harlem? Here is the answer in cold, hard data: a study was recently done on the student population of the top 146 countries in the U.S. Over 70% come from the wealthiest 25% of families. Only 3% come from the poorest 25% of families. That’s me, down there in the latter group. I went to a top university not once, but twice, and I may be on my way to a third if I’m lucky. I beat the odds, big time.

I learned about this study through Michael Sandel’s weekly lecture on Justice. It hit me like a ton of bricks. 3%? Really? My mother always told me I was special, but stats like that don’t make me feel special. They make me sad and angry and frustrated. And I’ve learned that sadness, anger, and frustration are great motivators for change if we harness them properly. That’s what I do in my community service – I’m harnessing those feelings and using them to turn around the very situation that made me feel those feelings in the first place. It’s my attempt at leveling the playing field.

In this week’s Justice class, Sandel talks about the distribution of wealth, a favorite topic of mine and one that I think about every day of my ridiculously blessed life. I constantly wrestle with feelings of pride in my accomplishments, guilt over my lifestyle (which is modest, but good), and the obligation I have to help others who live in the same type of situation I faced as a child. I firmly stand behind the belief that those of great fortune must take on great responsibility.

Shutting ourselves up in our little homes tucked away in safe little neighborhoods is a recipe for disaster. Tom Friedman famously said “if you don’t visit the bad neighborhoods, the bad neighborhoods will visit you.” (Ironically, or not, Tom Friedman and his wife Ann, are two of the largest donors that make Michael Sandel’s free online class possible.) I hold that thought at the front of my mind as much as possible.

Friedman is very clearly stating that the ability to choose our involvement with people who need our help is not a choice at all. We choose by our action or by our failure to act – the choice between these two options effects whether or not our worlds collide in a positive or negative event. There is no way to our worlds from mingling. By being involved, we have the opportunity to make the collision a positive one. The alternative shows up in our prisons and on the sad headlines of papers and news programs across this country.

What keeps me going most of all in my service work is knowing that there were a lot of people who gave of themselves so I could have the education and opportunity I had at Penn and at UVA. There were policy makers and elected officials who fought for my access to student loans at affordable rates. There were donors who made gifts to these universities so that I could be granted financial aid and top quality resources. There were teachers and mentors and staff members who made it the work of their lives to help students get the very best education possible so long as they were willing to work hard.

A lot of people gave an awful lot of themselves to help total strangers like me – I’ll never meet them all; I’ll never even know all of their names. And still I owe them a huge amount of gratitude. I show that gratitude by paying it forward to others, and I hope the people I help will be willing and able to pay it forward, too. It’s the only way we’re going to make this world a better place for everyone. We’ve got to come together; we’ve got to show up for one another.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

kindness, learning, relationships, teaching

My Year of Hopefulness – Vermonty

Christa Avampato

“A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.” ~ Henry B. Adams

While Mr. Adams meant for this post to be about professional teachers, I’m learning that we are all always teachers, just as we are all always students. Every moment that we’re living, we’re teaching. What we teach to others says an awful lot about who we are and the significance of our lives. Just as we get what we give, we learn what we teach. What we teach is our contribution to humanity, and this is not something to be taken lightly.

What I try to be mindful of in every moment is that every action we take, every word we say has true lasting effects that we will never know. That applies to every stranger we meet, as well as everyone in our personal and professional lives. That means every personal interaction, as well as every anonymous interaction. There is no excuse for leaving out please, thank you, and a smile. There is no excuse for not doing what we say we will do. Being polite, courteous, gracious, and follow-through will get us farther in this world than anything else.

Years later, others will still be thinking about what we said and did and how we treated them. I’d prefer they think well of me than ill of me. And sometimes that requires swallowing my pride a little bit, and not saying exactly what I think all of the time. Publilius Syrus got it right when he said, “I have often regretted my speech, never my silence.” I’ve learned that lesson many times over, the hard way. A little filter is good.

I’m not saying that this is easy to always remember or do. I try to get it as right as I can as often as I can. Sometimes I fall short and in the aftermath I feel a bit badly. I just double-down my efforts and try to do better going forward. At the same time that I accepted that we’re all lifelong teachers and students, I also gave up the pursuit of perfection – both realizations have helped enormously.

When I got into my apartment building elevator a few weeks ago, a man I’ve never met before stepped in after me. I had just gotten home from a rough day, and I wasn’t feeling particularly cheery. I could have looked down at my feet, lost in my own sad thoughts. Instead I looked up and smiled at the man in the elevator.

He smiled and asked me, “are you from Vermont?” I laughed.

“No, I’m not,” I said, “but I spent a summer there doing a theatre internship when I was in college.”

“Oh,” he said. “Are they nice there in Vermont?”

“Very,” I said.

“You just look like a very nice person. And I always associate being very nice with being from Vermont. You look very Vermonty.”

“Well, thank you,” I giggled.

“See – that’s what I mean,” he said. “So polite, those people from Vermont.”

He hopped off the elevator and bid me good night. A small interaction considering all of the interactions I had that day. I don’t know his name. He doesn’t know mine. I may never see him again. But weeks later, I’m still thinking of him. I smiled to myself. Vermonty – that’s a last impression I can live with.

encouragement, hope, learning, love, relationships

My Year of Hopefulness – Tony

Christa Avampato

“Abundance comes not from stuff. In fact, stuff is an indication of non-abundance. Abundance is in the sacred; it’s in the connection of love. We will find abundance through hard times when we find each other.” ~ Rebecca Adamson

I fell in love with Tony 8 years ago at first sight. To date, it was the most immediate reaction I’ve ever had to anyone. Two and a half years later, after about 1,000 ups and downs, we parted ways romantically, not because we didn’t love each other but because Tony didn’t love himself as much as I loved him.

I rarely talk about my romantic life on this blog, mostly because I keep those relationships extremely private. This one though has taught me so much that I know will help others and so I’m taking a risk here and putting a little more of my heart into my writing than I have ever done. Tony taught me a lot, more than anyone else I’ve ever been in a relationship with, and these lessons should be re-told.

To date, he is the only person who sends me text messages around 4:00am exclusively. I never reach him or hear from him during the day or even at a reasonable hour in the evening. We just don’t work that way. He’s a night owl, a serious night owl. Usually I don’t get his text messages until the morning on my way to work. Last night I happened to be awake when my phone buzzed, and of course it was Tony.

“I’m still not happy in my career. The only difference is that I’m not hating me anymore…just what I let myself lose.” Now, I don’t think he’s referring to me at all when he talks about what he lost. I think he’s talking about time and effort and energy lost to a career he doesn’t like and really never wanted. He just never thought he deserved anything better. By not liking himself for so long, Tony lost a lot of his life.

I smiled when I read his message this morning. Not because Tony lost a lot of years of his life – that I will always think is tragic. I smiled because finally, finally, finally all the love I felt for him, he now has for himself, and that’s all I ever really wanted for him. He is a good, good man with a good, good heart. He’s kind and generous and brilliant. And for so many years, I wanted him to see himself the way that I saw him. No matter what I did, nothing worked. So I let him go. In the end, there was no other choice. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see what I saw. Now, he does.

I wrote back to him, “T – I am so happy for you. You are on the right path. And it’s never too late to make a change. Xo” I meant this – every word of it. I’d like to believe that somewhere along the line all the love I gave him helped him in his journey. I’d like to believe that me being in his life helped him flip the switch from self-loathing to self-loving. I’d always like to believe that love, when given freely and in abundance makes a difference eventually. That love, unrequited or not, is never for naught.

I thought of him all day today – of so many good times and so many not-so-good times. I thought about who I was then and what I wanted then, and how much that has changed. I thought of all the things about him that made me smile, and those things still make me smile. What’s amazing about my journey with Tony, though so long ago, is that all the hurt I felt upon leaving isn’t there anymore. Somehow all the hurt faded, and only the good stuff remains. Even the bad times just don’t seem so bad when placed side-by-side with all the happy and wonderful times we had. I hope he feels the same way. Our hearts and memories are funny, malleable things, and for that I’m grateful.

Tony showed me how much love my heart could hold. This is a powerful lesson. As much as I fell in love with Tony, just as he was, I fell even more in love with his potential. I used to regard falling in love with potential as a waste. Today, I changed my mind on that thanks to him.

Potential might be more worthy of love than anything else. Potential is hope. Potential is something to look forward to. Potential keeps us looking up and working toward a better tomorrow, toward bettering ourselves. My love for Tony’s potential was not a waste at all; it’s a remedy that he eventually used to build a better life for himself.

He gave me so much and now I finally feel like I was able to return the favor. Even though it didn’t work out for us in the long-run, I regard my time with me him as precious. I am nothing but honored and privileged to have been a small part of his healing.

The image above is not my own. I love it though, and found it here.