education, goals, success

My Year of Hopefulness – Mountains

Christa Avampato

The dots continue to connect in my life. I’ve been working on a children’s story for the past month and that’s led me to renew my interest in children’s literature. I’ve gone through a set of books by Blue Balliet that are set in the Laboratory Schools in Chicago. That school was founded by John Dewey, one of the greatest influences in public education to date. He also happened to found The New School where I am considering the PhD program in Public and Urban Policy. His approach to education resonates so deeply with me and I’ve been doing a lot of independent research on him.

Today I came across a book entitled John Dewey and the Philosophy and Practice of Hope. In it there is a curriculum for teaching a class on hope which would make an excellent addition to my curriculum for Citizen Schools. It is taught at UNC Charlotte by Stephen Fishman, one of the book’s authors along with Lucille McCarthy. John Dewey has a lot to say about the subject of hope and many students took Professor Fishman’s class for the same reason I’m writing a year-long series about hope on this blog – to feel more hopeful.

As it turns out, Dewey’s whole philosophy about life was based on hope. Max Otto, philosopher and close friend of Dewey, recounted John Dewey’s philosophy of hope as illustrated in a dialogue he had with a student:

Student: What’s the good of [philosophy]?

Dewey: The good of it is that you climb mountains.

Student: And what’s the use of doing that?

Dewey: You see other mountains to climb.

Today, someone said to me that if she could just accomplish this one thing she wanted to do that would be a victory. She could check that off her list; with that victory she would “win”. This sounded so odd to me. Isn’t the point of a victory to let you do even greater things down the line, similar to the mountains that Dewey talked about with his students.

At a Darden alumni reception tonight, I was reminded that this is the ultimate goal of education, too. We get an education not for the accomplishment we get with the degree, but rather because of the doors that it opens, because climbing that mountain of books and papers and exams allows us to see and climb other mountains. Mountains we never knew existed. And it gives us the confidence to make our way in the world.

A victory, a diploma, a “win” isn’t an ending at all – it’s always a gateway to something bigger. This is reason enough to always keep going, to always keep moving forward. Obstacles become just challenges. Hard times become opportunities for learning and strength and growth. Disappointments and loss help us realize what’s really important in our lives. Those mountains are more than just things to climb and accomplish. They are our very reason for living.

career, design, dreams, education, innovation

My Year of Hopefulness – Use Design to Change Fist Stick Knife Gun

Christa Avampato

Over the past few weeks I have had a series of fortunate coincidences. I know the universe is always talking to us, that we are always in receipt of messages that connect us and bind us together, that point toward the way we are supposed to take. In my heart I know this, though given my surprisingly thick skull, those messages some times have difficulty reaching my brain. That surprisingly thick skull of mine often has to be clobbered over the head several times in order to “get it”.

The series of some of the fortunate events has unfolded as follows:
1.) A few weeks ago I had my very rough draft of Innovation Station, an after-school program, accepted by Citizen Schools, an outstanding organization that exists to help average folks like me put together a curriculum we’re passionate about to teach in public middle schools.

2.) Just about the same time that Citizen Schools accepted my proposal, my former boss, Bob, sent me an invitation to attend an event on design thinking hosted by the Rotman School of Management. Tim Brown, CEO of Ideo and one of the featured speakers at the event, just released his first book called Change by Design: How Design Thinking Transforms Organizations and Inspires Innovation. It is a powerful “blueprint for creative leaders” in a variety of sectors. Hmmm….sounds like a brilliant jumping off point for an after-school program about innovation, doesn’t it? (I’m attending the Rotman School event and writing about it for Examiner and for TJCC; I hope to meet Tim and get his take on Innovation Station.)

3.) This week I have come across dozens of articles about the renewed focus on after-school programs, both from a funding and legislative perspective. Here are some examples: Home Alone, Peering at the Future, The Uneducated American, Paterson Proposes Cuts to Close Deficit.

4.) Last week, my friend, Wayne, took me to the annual meeting for Children’s Health Fund, an organization that got its start at a grassroots level in one tiny area of Harlem and has grown to an international organization with the mission to advocate and assure healthcare for every child, everywhere. I want to do the same thing for education and their model and messaging is such an inspiration. They work with Harlem Children’s Zone, an organization started by Geoffrey Canada that is a holistic system of education, social-service and community-building programs aimed at helping the children and families in a 97-block area of Central Harlem.

5.) About a month ago, my friend, Dan, told me about a podcast that featured Geoffrey Canada. I just picked up his book Fist Stick Knife Gun: A Personal History of Violence in America. I can’t put it down and I think I just found my calling. I googled Harlem Children’s Zone tonight and discovered that the two schools where I will be teaching for Citizen Schools are in the same area as the Harlem Children’s Zone.

6.) My friend, Amanda Steinberg, and her company, Soapbxx, designed the Harlem Children’s Zone website.

7.) The PhD program I’ve been looking at within The New School was recently highlighted by Bruce Nussbaum, a journalist whom I greatly admire. He writes about design and innovation. He is a professor at Parsons, one of the other schools within The New School. He has been writing a lot about design thinking, social entrepreneurship, and Tim Brown’s book. He believes that Design Thinking can transform systems like healthcare and education. So do I. So do a growing number of people. This is about to get very exciting.

As I was getting off the subway tonight and heading home I had the distinct feeling that there is no turning back for me now. I finally get what the universe is trying to tell me. I will not be able to sit still knowing that what I have to offer in the way of business, product development, an appreciation for design, and a passion for education as a tool to build a solid future, so clearly matches an unmet need in the world. This is the mash-up of work I was meant to do.

This journey was a long one. My life’s work has been in front of me all along, since I was a kid facing a lot of the struggles that too many kids face. I just didn’t know that it should or could be the work of my life. It took me the better part of 33 years to figure out what I was meant to do with my time here. And now that I know, the fear has dissipated completely. The anxiety about my future evaporated and has been replaced by only excitement and a feeling of purpose. Goethe would tell us that there is magic in commitment. He was right. I know that now.

I had lots of wrong turns, lots of dead-ends, and lots of disappointments. Nothing ever felt right, though I had a ton of fun in the exploration process. I wouldn’t change any of it. I’m just grateful and glad that I won’t have to die with the music still in me, as John Lennon lamented about so many people. Finally, finally, finally I know I’m on the cusp of my life’s work. It’s stretched out before me like a beautiful winding road, and it’s time for me to hop aboard and get going. In those poignant, truthful words of Theodore Geisel, my mountain is waiting.

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

change, nature, simplicity

My Year of Hopefulness – Sunsets and Moments

Christa Avampato

The brilliant women over at Owning Pink made one of my recent posts to their blog their homepage this morning. I’m honored and humbled. Thanks to Keith for inspiring this post. From the comments on the original Owning Pink blog, it helped a lot of people. It’s an amazing gift to be able to write things that help others – especially since this writing helps me so much.

“On Saturday afternoon as I was walking back to my apartment, I came around the corner and saw this amazing sunset, one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. I raced upstairs to my apartment, grabbed by camera, and jumped out the window to snap a photo of it. And you know what? It didn’t work. No matter what settings I changed on my camera, I just couldn’t get the photo of the sunset to look the way it actually was. My eyes saw something so much more beautiful than my camera could capture and hold.

So all I could do was stand there on the roof, basking in the glory of all those colors. As the sky turned darker, the sunset got more and more beautiful. The colors evolved and mingled and every moment was more incredible than the moment before. Our lives are like that, too, so long as we just let them unfold in their own time, in their own way.

With every experience, our lives grow richer, each one adding its own little dab of color. I know that all of the things I’m working on now are little dabs, and they might not seem like they belong together just yet. I know that they will find a way to work together, and that eventually the art of my life will emerge. That will happen for all of us. It’s not a matter of if, just a matter of when. Our only job is to show up every day, for ourselves and for the people we love, and let life unfold moment by moment.

Today someone sent me an amazing video from Radio Lab about moments. http://blogs.wnyc.org/radiolab/2009/08/14/16-moments/

I love it so much that I’ve played it over several times now. It features the moments of every day life, mostly things we take for granted. As I watched the video I became even more aware that these little moments, the things we don’t or can’t capture and hold, are the building blocks of our lives. While mostly simple and ordinary this is the stuff of our days. It reminded me that there is always time and cause for celebration.

In what ways can you slow things down, just a little? What is there to notice? How might it change the way you live, love, and celebrate?

Watching it all unfold,
Christa”

art, choices, future

My Year of Hopefulness – The future’s arrived

Christa Avampato

“The future is here. It’s just not widely distributed yet.” ~ William Gibson, author of Neuromancer

The future is a funny thing. It can surprise us. It can frighten us and delight us. When it unfolds, we understand its logic though in the moment it seems to completely confuse us. It’s true of the larger world’s future and of our own personal futures, too.

As Weez, Lorelei, and I were heading to the Glass Garden at the Rusk Institute today, I was telling them about my plans for school and work and every other aspect of my life that I could think of for the foreseeable future. It all seemed to make so much sense, even though only several weeks ago nothing really seemed to make sense at all. It seems that so much is falling into place, as if I had these little pieces and the slots they fit into all along; I just wasn’t sure how to configure them until now.

When I think about the next year of my life, all of my projects seem to be falling into the time line in a startling beautiful pattern. It’s as if the future is already here, that it has been here for some time. It just took me a while to see it for myself. A few things in my life needed to be cleared away, things that were distracting me. At the time, I didn’t even know those things were distractions. I didn’t even know that they needed to go but the world knew. My future knew what I needed to keep moving forward.

Lately my body has gotten into the unfortunate habit of waking up at 4am on the nose every morning so I try to make that time useful. When this happens, I stare out the window at the water towers. I have a glass of milk. Some times I do some easy yoga poses and I think about my future. I try to think of an image that calms me down and lulls me back to sleep.

Recently, I’ve been imagining myself as a high diver in the form of a Maxfield Parrish painting. I face this beautiful forest as I stand at the very edge of a cliff. I raise my arms and face up to the sun, I bend my knees, and I jump. Rather than falling to the Earth, the wind catches me and I float under a sky of beautiful colors. I’ve been thinking of the forest as all of the experiences I’ve had to date and the beautiful colors of the sky as my future. Those colors have yet to fully take shape, though their very beginnings have certainly arrived.

The painting above depicts “Mountain Ecstasy” by Maxfield Parrish.

philanthropy, poverty, The Journal of Cultural Conversation

The Journal of Cultural Conversation – Power of 5

Christa Avampato

The latest post on TJCC:

A few weeks ago, I went to the 92Y to hear Dr. Muhammed Yunus speak. He is considered by many to be the founder of the micro-credit movement and he’s one of my heroes.

By his own will and ability to inspire hope in others, he has lifted thousands up out of poverty, or rather helped thousands lift themselves up out of poverty.

He glows with good energy.

To read the full article please visit: http://www.thejcconline.com/the-power-of-5/

change, health, science

My Year of Hopefulness – Grey Matter, White Matter

Christa Avampato

I’ve been thinking a lot about aging this week. During my yoga practice I noticed that my lower back had some weird pain, just a small twinge, when I flatten out my back and lift up. I’ve never had that pain before and I don’t know what could be causing it except maybe that I’m not as young I used to be. Not that I’m old by any stretch. Not by a long shot. I just have to actually be conscious of my health now.

This weekend, my niece is visiting me. She is 21 months. I’m having a blast chasing her around. Today we went apple picking and I got to experience that joy all over again with fresh eyes. I forgot how much fun it is to be out in the fresh air, picking apples, and running up grassy hills. When we got back to my apartment tonight, I went into the bathroom to wash my face and noticed that I look shockingly younger. And it’s not that I have some magic moisturizer. I think it’s just the glow of happiness that we gain by being around a little ball of energy.

Earlier this week, I heard Jean Chatzky speak. She’s been thinking a lot about aging lately, too. And she’s been doing some research involving neuroscience. Specifically neuroscience that relates to aging. As it turns out when we are very young, our grey matter is growing, too. Literally, the number of neurons is increasing, making us, well, neurotic. So all those crazy thoughts and emotions and mood swings we have in our teens and 20’s are to be expected. Blame it on the growth of grey matter. After our 20’s, the growth of grey matter slows and the growth of white matter, the part of our brain that connects our neurons, grows well into middle age. So this process of becoming older and wiser is not a nice metaphor to make us feel better about aging. It actually has some serious science behind it. As we age we become less neurotic and more able to see connections between thoughts, ideas, and experiences.

What keeps coming to the forefront of my mind is how do I keep my body young and my brain moving forward at the same time. The greatest question of our time, I suppose. How do we make sure to keep our outlook fresh while also preserving the wisdom we’ve worked so hard to attain? How do I keep the energy of youth and take comfort in having an old soul? Perhaps it’s just a balance – holding my youth in one hand and my age in the other. There is a time for age old wisdom and a time for a new outlook. The trick is to know when to utilize each.

Life

The Journal of Cultural Conversation launches a re-designed site

Christa Avampato
Hello contributors to and supporters of The Journal of Cultural Conversation (TJCC)!
Just wanted to let you know that the new site is up – we’re still working out a few of the kinks, but we’re absolutely thrilled about the new look and feel. We’ll be posting this weekend and will be somewhat revising our posting schedule moving forward – but will keep everyone informed on the site.

Come visit us at http://thejcconline.com and join the conversation!

As we’re getting the word out, and if you feel so inclined, we’d be so appreciative if you’d spread the word about our new home – even a Tweet would help 🙂

Again, thanks so much for all of your support. We’d love to hear any and all comments and feedback on the new design and content. We’re really excited!

children, literature, writer, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Where the Wild Things Are (and Were)

Christa Avampato

“One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.” ~ Andre Gide, Nobel laureate in literature

My sister, Weez, and her family are visiting me for a week. My brother-in-law, Kyle, is a painter and given the cold weather we’re having in New York City, this vacation is all about museums. For several weeks, he’s been scouting cultural websites to see what exhibits are currently open. One of the exhibits that caught his interest is at the Morgan Library, and includes original sketches, watercolors, and book notes from Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. Being avid fans of children’s literature, we stopped in there today to have a look.

I have loved Where the Wild Things Are since I was little. I loved it because of its use of theatre and imagination. Max and his make-believe adventures made me believe that I could travel to distant and strange lands, too. Now as a writer, visiting this exhibit brought a whole new back story to the book. Originally the story was about wild horses, not the Wild Things we have come to know and love. Sendak abandoned the project for many years before completing it. During his first attempt he wrote that the story felt forced so he had to put it aside for now. He kept returning to it again and again to see if the story might flow more easily on another attempt. Eventually, he found an open door. My favorite margin note is “focus on Max.” Despite his mastery of storytelling, he had to deal with all of the same anxieties so many other writers deal with: not knowing what comes next, starting a story, dropping it, and picking it back up again at a more suitable time, and the feeling that his focus was sometimes a bit off.

As much as I love Sendak’s writing, his thoughts on his writing were even more interesting to me. The exhibit reaffirmed for me that writing is a physical workout in many respects. It’s something that must be practiced consistently, even when the writing doesn’t come easily. There will be periods of frustration when the words just don’t flow the way we’d like them to and that’s okay. Focus and commitment is something we must continually strive for, and some times we will need to write ourselves a prescription for them, a reminder of what’s really important. And that’s okay, too.

It’s so easy to think that genius in any form belongs to the few, the gifted. Realizing that people whom I admire so much, such as Sendak, are just ordinary people like me reminds me that there is a little genius in all of us. Within everyone’s imaginations, there is a brilliant story, our own Where the Wild Things Are, that is brewing. The land of the Wild Things is always right here beside us. To get it down, we just need to commit to showing up at our computers or at our notebooks with a wide open heart, a good set of ears, and an abundance of patience and determination in equal amounts.

The image above is an illustration by Sendak from Where the Wild Things Are

career, change, choices, relationships

My Year of Hopefulness – Standing on the Hinge

Christa Avampato

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” ~ Victor Frankl

I just finished the book Here If You Need Me, a brilliant memoir by Kate Braestrup. Kate is a writer who became a minster shortly after her husband’s death. Being a minister wasn’t her dream; it was her late husband’s dream and because he didn’t get the chance to achieve that, she offered up her own vocation for him. She is the chaplain to the game wardens of Maine, the group of brave public servants who conduct searches for people who are lost in the deep Maine woods, the person who falls through the ice, the hiker who ventures too far for too long. Their work can be dangerous and frequently ends with a tragic discovery. They need a good chaplain and they have a superb one in Kate.

The book is a fast, inspiring read. Of all the anecdotes that stand out in my mind, the most vivid in my mind is her description of her job as standing on the hinge of life. Kate is the one who waits with the families as the game wardens search for their loved ones that are lost or missing. She counsels the wardens after tragic circumstances are discovered. She stands with them in these uncomfortable, difficult moments that will come to define their lives. These are the moments that define their befores and afters.

All through the book I kept thinking about this metaphor, this hinge of life. I kept thinking about how many hinges I’ve been on lately. These moments that define my own befores and afters. Each one presents an opportunity for choice – we get to choose our attitude, our way forward, our outlook, and the learnings we take away from each experience.

September 2009 could have left a very deep scar on my heart. Instead, I had to make it a time of great learning and exploration. I had to make those days count by allowing them to teach me what’s truly important to me. They became a time of great commitment for me. Instead of being wracked by fear, I realized that I had nothing to fear because I knew I would be fine no matter what happened from here on out. I survived the perfect storm.

September was one big hinge for me and gave me the chance to recognize quite literally that the important things in life aren’t things. It taught me that I want very deep, meaningful relationships to be the core of my life. I set myself on a course to eventually write full-time. New York most certainly became my long-time home. On October 1st, I knew with certainty what I wanted from my life with a clarity I’ve never had before. And it feels great.

Hinges are difficult. They are filled with great expectations and great hesitancy. They are points of no turning back. Unless we’re people like Kate, we only get a few opportunities to stand at the hinge of our own lives. Life doesn’t offer up learnings and choices of that type of poignancy every day. And thank goodness because they can be incredibly stressful times. Though when we get the chance to stand at the edge of our lives and decide in a very profound way who we are and who we mean to be, it’s an opportunity we should approach with a grateful and open heart. After all, we will not be able to pass this way again.

children, health, healthcare, nonprofit, philanthropy

My Year of Hopefulness – Children’s Health Fund

Christa Avampato

Tonight my friend and colleague, Wayne, took me to the annual meeting for Children’s Health Fund (CHF). Knowing my interest in and past experience with nonprofit organizations, he knew I would be interested. What he didn’t know, and frankly what I didn’t know, is that CHF would be a perfect match for my interests on a variety of levels.

Personally and professionally, the mission of CHF to provide and advocate for quality medical care for every child resonates with me. Due to a drastic change in my family situation when I was a young child, my family lived below the poverty line and without health care for a good number of years. As an undergraduate, I did my senior economics thesis on the quality of healthcare for children below the poverty line living in West Philadelphia; the paper was based on my work-study job assisting one of the lead pediatricians at Children’s Seashore House (now a part of The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia). Additionally, I am considering the Public and Urban Policy PhD program at The New School because of my growing interest in inner-city education, and inner-city education requires caring for the whole child, healthcare included. There are certain points in our lives when the stars perfectly align, and tonight felt like one of those nights.

I had the great honor of hearing Karen Redlener, the Executive Director, and her talented staff speak about the 2008 accomplishments of CHF. 70,000 children received medical care through 210,000 patient visits and 613 medical professional received training through CHF’s programs in 25 cities across the country. In a time when so many organizations, for-profit and non-profit, are pulling back and remaining cautious, CHF is stepping up their game.

Jane Pauley, one of CHF’s dedicated board members and someone I greatly admire, explained why CHF is continuing to push forward and grow their goals as opposed to cutting back. In this recession, fear is everywhere. And while it might at first seem inconceivable that any organization could maintain their funding during this recession much less grow it, CHF keeps looking up and reaching higher.

Why, you ask? The sound barrier. Jane Pauley told the story of the first pilot to break the sound barrier. Previously, when pilots came up against the intense shaking caused by approaching speeds close to the sound barrier, they would pull the throttle back. A fatal mistake. Chuck Yeager did something different – when his plane approached the sound barrier, shaking badly, he pushed the throttle forward, went faster, and broke the sound barrier altogether. He is literal proof that if we press on, despite adversity, there are great rewards to be had when we come out the other side. CHF and Chuck Yeager are of the same mind.

Healthcare has been front page news every day this week; it’s been at the top of the Obama agenda for months; it was a major issue in the 2008 Presidential campaign. This is healthcare’s moment; this is CHF’s moment. For over 20 years, Irwin Redlener and Paul Simon, the co-founders, along with their dedicated, passionate team have been working tirelessly on behalf of children and their right to quality healthcare. The debates are raging on Capitol Hill and across this country. The plane is shaking, and we cannot pull the throttle back. We are so close to breaking through, so close to having quality, affordable care for every American. CHF is continuing to stand its ground with dignity and grace, fortified by the simple belief that all children everywhere have a right to be healthy.

We need them to succeed in this mission. By the end of 2009, 1:5 children in the U.S. will be below the poverty line. 1:5. Of all the facts and figures we review every day, that might be the scariest I’ve heard. We can’t afford to have 20% of our nation’s children grow up poor and unhealthy. Think the healthcare of others isn’t your problem? Think again. Their future is our future. And they need us. All of us. Someone has to stand up for them if we are to have any hope at all in the future of our nation. CHF is giving it everything they’ve got, and they need more. They need us. To find out how you can help, visit the Children’s Heath Fund website.