Resources

NOTE: As I write this last blog from Pasadena, CA, several months after my last segment, I recognize that many are only beginning to face the long road to recovery in the aftermath of the LA Firestorms, ICE raids, and loss of federal funding, while others are navigating a whole host of concerns that result from these events. This is on top of the social and political dynamics we have faced this year, both personally and communally. In many ways life is already messy, and many are trying to find ways to sustain themselves, teach, lead, and care for others in the midst of their own mess and ours. I wanted to write this note to say: I see you. You are not alone. Friends, we have reached the end of our journey with Miss Frizzle! And though we may be sad to see her leave us (for now), I think we’ve saved the best lesson for last. For those of you who are true fans of the series, you know that this last part often changes, depending on the circumstances that Miss Frizzle and the kids are in. But the “get messy!” aspect is always present, and for that, we dive deep into the mess to see what we can learn. First, let’s talk about getting messy. Now, I won’t speak for everyone else, but I can say that personally, I don’t like it. Getting messy is inconvenient, gross, and often requires that I do things I don’t like to do. I only do it as a means to an end. I thought I meant this only physically (doing dirty dishes, washing floors, and all the other “messes” you are thinking of right now), but several years ago, I realized I also thought this way spiritually. Allow me to explain. As a young adult, I had several spiritual teachers who taught a neat spirituality. They advocated for a kind of spiritual life that didn’t include the messiness of our lives, or if they did, we didn’t talk about it. Besides, any mess we have or would encounter was already handled in the person of Jesus. Jesus died (in ways we will not describe) so that we wouldn’t have to handle our mess. This always bothered me, mostly because (like most young adults) my life was very messy, and I didn’t have the tools to handle it or sweep it under the spiritual rug. While they attempted to teach me to “give my mess over to god” by ignoring it, I became drawn to it. I realized that messiness did not scare me. It became a catalyst for my art making, and a starting point for the kind of spirituality that led me to get a PhD.  Teaching From the MessNow I know I’ve said mess a lot, but I have not defined it. What exactly do I mean by mess? One definition that I love is “a situation or state of affairs that is confused and full of difficulties.” That sounds about right. Mess is often confusing and difficult, and if no one wants to be either of those things, why does Miss Frizzle encourage it? Because everything begins once we accept the mess. If we can accept that things are confusing and difficult, we can begin the process of moving toward new possibilities, both of which require taking chances and making mistakes. This is of the utmost importance for theological educators. Everything that we teach begins with mess. Part of the problem, in my humble opinion, is that we approach the mess with a rigidity and sterility that requires us to replace the messiness of our lives and theologies with systems and ideas that seek to eradicate and ignore and not engage. We cannot create rigid classrooms that seek to engage mess. We have to get messy.How do we do that? Well, I’m glad you asked. Let’s go back to our first lesson: bending, keeping, and breaking rules. That lesson asks us to get to the root of what the rule is doing for us. Our pedagogy doesn’t just become rigid; it is often the result of trying to create consistency, ritual, or repetition in our classes. As we are sorting through things that are confusing and difficult, we often seek to create safety by bringing in the opposites of what we are facing. If something is confusing, we offer clarity. If it’s difficult, we try to break it down to be more palatable. We create a routine so our students can have continued practice. None of this is bad or wrong. But the rigidity comes in when we don’t follow the second rule, making mistakes. Often, we use a pedagogical tool over and over again in the name of consistency, not realizing that it no longer works. Making mistakes is about first realizing the mistake. How do you know you’ve moved from consistency to rigidity? Ask your students! Engage ways of continued feedback (beyond surveys) that show that your students are getting what they need. Switch up your assignments to think through how students are showing improvement and integration. Do the work to create a pedagogical toolbox that gives you multiple ways to teach and engage content. I Don’t Know! One part of my toolbox that I have used most often consists of three powerful words: “I don’t know.” Starting out, I was afraid to admit this to anyone. Saying I don’t know is like admitting you are an imposter. But pretending to know everything (when I obviously didn’t) hindered my teaching. And of course my students could always tell. The reason I was afraid was because I adhered to the idea that, as the professor, I was supposed to know everything about what I was teaching. That there was no question I shouldn’t be able to answer. I hope you hear how ridiculous that sounds. It wasn’t until a student asked some off-the-wall question that I had no clue how to answer that I just said, “I don’t know.” And the world did not implode. I did not die from embarrassment. The PhD police did not come and take my degree away. I wasn’t fired. I admitted my mistake. Then I took a chance. I said, “But I know someone who does.” The next class period, I brought in a friend who just so happened to be an expert on the topic of the question asked. In fifteen minutes, he was able to do what I could not, and the class was blown away. How cool was it to have an expert on the topic of a random question you had just show up in your class? The students felt seen and heard, my friend was praised for their brilliance, and I looked cool. Win-win-win!  Learning to Adapt“I don’t know” is now one of my favorite things to say in a classroom. It allows me to lean into everything Miss Frizzle has taught me. Make the mistake. Take a chance. Enter the mess. Because of this, I have brought countless friends into the classroom to answer what I could not. It has taught me that one of the best tools we have in our pedagogical toolbox is adaptation. Even though our syllabi, readings, and assignments may stay the same, our students do not. Our contexts in the world do not. We do not. And, as the world would have it, most change is messy. I hope that Miss Frizzle’s lessons encourage you to do something different. Go back to that radical pedagogy that understands the root but is never tied to one branch. Allow your “I don’t know” to become a portal into a network of brilliance you bring into the classroom. Be consistent without being rigid. Take chances. Make mistakes. Get Messy! Till next time friends!