When you are an alien living as stranger in a strange land, you tend to associate your new experiences with ones you've had before. You do this to try to better understand your past, the present and how you might make your way through the days that lie ahead of you. This week, I realized that my current experiences can deepened my appreciation of others I've come to know in the past.
One of the most interesting experiences in my past has been the opportunity I've been given to learn from those who are deaf. Over the last 15 years, I've come to understand the Deaf culture better through spending time with them. My wife is a sign-language interpreter, among many other things, and together with her I've met and become good friends with many Deaf, and through my wife’s assistance, I’ve learned much from them.
I recall vividly my first real insight into Deaf culture. It came through a story teller who explained the drastically different reactions he received when as a young boy he had been taught to voice words. When he attempted to voice the simple sentence "I like baseball," those who heard his halting expressions of sounds reacted as if, according to his account, he was mentally impaired.
When, however, later in this story teller's life, he entered into groups of hearing people and began to express himself with sign language, the reactions he received showed that those who observed his signing acknowledged him to be a very intelligent person. They realized that he knew a language that they did not know.
For the first time, I realized that signing is a distinct language in itself, and those who use it to communicate are just like any other person who might speak German, French or even Korean. I realized that a person’s intelligence is not impaired by a disability, but rather their intelligence is demonstrated by their ability to overcome a perceived limitation through new forms of communication.
Now, for me here in Korea, amongst a majority of people whose language I do not understand nor speak (and have to this point made very little progress in learning), I am the one with the disability. I am the one at the disadvantage. And just this past Thursday evening, it finally dawned upon me that I am the one who, in a certain, small way, is deaf in this culture. I hear sounds but I understand nothing or nearly nothing.
Thursday evening was the annual university Christmas concert. While some of the songs where performed in English, all of the spoken introductions and explanations were in Korean. I thought to myself, “I’m sure those who organized this concert realized that at least a few people in the audience would not be Korean-speakers. Why didn’t they provide a translator?”
When teaching in the States at Fontbonne University, I noted that every university event provided sign-language interpretation. This is most likely because Fontbonne is known for its outstanding Deaf Education department and often deaf or hearing-impaired are among those attending the events. The University consciously seeks to provide the means for communicating understanding to all who attend.
So, as I sat there at the Christmas concert and listened to the emcee introduce acts and to performers explaining whatever it was they were explaining, I acquired a deeper understanding of what it means to have ears but still not hear. But if that is all I learned, I'm not listening very well. My failure to hear, to understand cannot be blamed on the failure or deficiency of others. I bear the responsibility for seeking to understand. I may not now have the ability, in and of myself, to gain the understanding, but I bear the responsibility to ask for it.
No one is alone sufficient to achieve understanding. We will always need others. Though I have ears, I always need others to help me hear.
05 December 2009
03 December 2009
To Question or Not to Question? . . . . . . . . . That is the Question.
As a teacher, I have been endeavoring over the past four months here at Handong both to encourage and to challenge my students to ask questions. My approach, though, runs contrary to the inclination not to question that most Asian students have had instilled within them from their culture (or at least, that's the explanation that is most often offered to me for their hesitation, and in some cases, out-right resistance to raising questions).
Many view questioning not as a positive expression of desire for deeper understanding of an idea, but rather as a negative attack that seeks to undermine the "authority" of the teacher as well as create divisions and doubt. From this perspective, listening quietly is expected of students, rather than questioning openly. There are, though, some questions that are not aimed at understanding. In my reading, I recently encountered Paul's admonition to avoid "foolish and undisciplined speculations [questions], understanding that they only give rise to quarrels" (2 Timothy 2:23).
So, if there are some questions that are either motivated by or are aimed at creating quarrels, for the sake of quarreling, then we would have to acknowledge that not all questions are of equal value. Not every question should be entertained. Not every question should even be aired. Some questions are constructive. They lead toward building understanding and strengthening learning relationships. But other questions, may be corrupting. These sorts of questions are intended to foster greater misunderstanding and confusion.
The problem is, however, that any given question on its face may not reveal its true character; or, should I say, the question itself may not disclose the true character and intentions of the one who poses the question. Since we are all humans who are engaged in the endeavor of education, I must ever be on guard that the questions I put to others be questions truly seeking understanding and not be questions meant to divide, harm others, corrupt the pursuit of truth for the sake of self-justification.
All of these thoughts came to bear upon me yesterday, when I pondered whether I should raise a question in response to a guest speaker's presentation that was, as I pondered, being delivered to our faculty. The presenter was a former Egyptian Muslim imam who had converted to Christianity. He now gives presentations to governmental organizations as well as educational institutions and private groups around the world. He had, in fact, just before arriving in Korea been in Switzerland where he consulted with several members of the government there.
In his presentation, the speaker set forth twenty-two of the thirty articles in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights adopted by the member countries of the United Nations in 1948 and compared various selections from the Islamic Scriptures to each of these articles in his effort to demonstrate that the teachings and practices of the Muslim religion violate the UN Declaration. He then argued that action against the spread of Islam should be taken by those nations that recognize the Declaration as a standard for human rights.
He gave as his one and only example of the type of action for which he was calling the recent adoption by the Swiss people of a ban on the construction of minarets at mosques within Switzerland. (read more) What the speaker, however, failed to acknowledge in his presentation was that the Swiss action banning the construction of minarets was in and of itself a violation of the provision of the UN Declaration which expressly acknowledges that: "Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance" (emphasis added).
As I sat and listened to the speaker's presentation, I began to formulate several questions to pose to our guest should the audience be given that opportunity. My questions were: "Do you believe that the UN Declaration is a standard for human rights that all countries should follow? If so (and I assumed that the speaker would say yes to my first question) have you considered whether the Swiss ban on minarets is an action that itself violates the UN Declaration?"
I must readily admit that I wished to expose the evident inconsistency in the speaker's presentation with much more directness and force. No public Q&A time was offered, though, and when I went up to talk with the speaker personally his limited time was occupied by many who were approving of his comments. I did, however, raise my concerns with a few fellow faculty members who were also waiting to talk with our guest speaker. So, I didn't put my questions to the speaker.
This morning I found an interesting article by Dr. Albert Mohler commenting on the Swiss banning of minarets. I emailed this article out to all of my fellow faculty members here at Handong and promptly received several replies that indicated I was not the only one who was raising questions about what we had heard. One colleague wrote: "read [Mohler's article] with interest. Thanks much. Certainly consistent with what you were suggesting yesterday." While I must be on guard not to use questions improperly, it is better to question than not to question. All ideas, all opinions, all things need to be examined by questions.
Many view questioning not as a positive expression of desire for deeper understanding of an idea, but rather as a negative attack that seeks to undermine the "authority" of the teacher as well as create divisions and doubt. From this perspective, listening quietly is expected of students, rather than questioning openly. There are, though, some questions that are not aimed at understanding. In my reading, I recently encountered Paul's admonition to avoid "foolish and undisciplined speculations [questions], understanding that they only give rise to quarrels" (2 Timothy 2:23).
So, if there are some questions that are either motivated by or are aimed at creating quarrels, for the sake of quarreling, then we would have to acknowledge that not all questions are of equal value. Not every question should be entertained. Not every question should even be aired. Some questions are constructive. They lead toward building understanding and strengthening learning relationships. But other questions, may be corrupting. These sorts of questions are intended to foster greater misunderstanding and confusion.
The problem is, however, that any given question on its face may not reveal its true character; or, should I say, the question itself may not disclose the true character and intentions of the one who poses the question. Since we are all humans who are engaged in the endeavor of education, I must ever be on guard that the questions I put to others be questions truly seeking understanding and not be questions meant to divide, harm others, corrupt the pursuit of truth for the sake of self-justification.
All of these thoughts came to bear upon me yesterday, when I pondered whether I should raise a question in response to a guest speaker's presentation that was, as I pondered, being delivered to our faculty. The presenter was a former Egyptian Muslim imam who had converted to Christianity. He now gives presentations to governmental organizations as well as educational institutions and private groups around the world. He had, in fact, just before arriving in Korea been in Switzerland where he consulted with several members of the government there.
In his presentation, the speaker set forth twenty-two of the thirty articles in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights adopted by the member countries of the United Nations in 1948 and compared various selections from the Islamic Scriptures to each of these articles in his effort to demonstrate that the teachings and practices of the Muslim religion violate the UN Declaration. He then argued that action against the spread of Islam should be taken by those nations that recognize the Declaration as a standard for human rights.
He gave as his one and only example of the type of action for which he was calling the recent adoption by the Swiss people of a ban on the construction of minarets at mosques within Switzerland. (read more) What the speaker, however, failed to acknowledge in his presentation was that the Swiss action banning the construction of minarets was in and of itself a violation of the provision of the UN Declaration which expressly acknowledges that: "Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance" (emphasis added).
As I sat and listened to the speaker's presentation, I began to formulate several questions to pose to our guest should the audience be given that opportunity. My questions were: "Do you believe that the UN Declaration is a standard for human rights that all countries should follow? If so (and I assumed that the speaker would say yes to my first question) have you considered whether the Swiss ban on minarets is an action that itself violates the UN Declaration?"
I must readily admit that I wished to expose the evident inconsistency in the speaker's presentation with much more directness and force. No public Q&A time was offered, though, and when I went up to talk with the speaker personally his limited time was occupied by many who were approving of his comments. I did, however, raise my concerns with a few fellow faculty members who were also waiting to talk with our guest speaker. So, I didn't put my questions to the speaker.
This morning I found an interesting article by Dr. Albert Mohler commenting on the Swiss banning of minarets. I emailed this article out to all of my fellow faculty members here at Handong and promptly received several replies that indicated I was not the only one who was raising questions about what we had heard. One colleague wrote: "read [Mohler's article] with interest. Thanks much. Certainly consistent with what you were suggesting yesterday." While I must be on guard not to use questions improperly, it is better to question than not to question. All ideas, all opinions, all things need to be examined by questions.
30 November 2009
Birthday of a Great Author
The following is from Garrison Keillor's The Writer's Almanac.
It's the birthday of a writer who described life in the Mississippi River valley, whose most famous fiction and nonfiction is set along the river, and who got his pen name from being a riverboat captain, even though he spent most of his adult life traveling or living on the East Coast. That's Samuel Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, born on this day in Florida, Missouri (1835).
The town of Florida was about 30 miles inland from the Mississippi River, and Samuel's father, trained as a lawyer, was finding it impossible to support himself in Florida as a lawyer, or a politician or storekeeper, for that matter. So when Sam was four, his father moved the family to Hannibal, Missouri, right on the river, figuring that he would have better business there.
For a while, Sam had an ordinary childhood, playing with other boys his age, exploring the caves near Hannibal, playing elaborate pranks on fellow townspeople. But when he was 11, his father died, and after fifth grade he never went back to school. He was an apprentice with local printers, including his older brother Orion, who had bought out several of the area's newspapers. When he got tired of working for his brother, he went and worked as a typesetter on the East Coast. But he wasn't very successful.
Like many boys growing up along the Mississippi, Sam had dreamed of being a riverboat pilot, and so when he found himself, at 22 years old, struggling to make a living as a printer, he decided to switch careers entirely and give his childhood dream a try. It was a rigorous job, requiring an 18-month apprenticeship that cost $500 (more than $10,000 today). But he loved life on a riverboat. He said, "A pilot, in those days, was the only unfettered and entirely independent human being that lived in the earth."
And Sam Clemens was good at learning the river, and a very good pilot. He made enough money to pay off his debts, support his mother, and have some money left over to spend in St. Louis and New Orleans, where he learned to drink and dance. He admitted that he found it satisfying to walk around with hundred dollar bills peeking out between his smaller bills to show off to the pilots who didn't think he could ever learn the river as well as he did.
And he might have stayed this way for the rest of his life, a successful steamboat captain enjoying the river and the nightlife of the river cities, if the Civil War had not come along. In the spring of 1861, all the river traffic was stopped, and Sam no longer had a job.
His older brother was given the job of Secretary of the Nevada Territory, and was set to leave that summer. He asked Sam if he would like to travel west with him, and Sam agreed. He got a job writing for a newspaper in Virginia City, Nevada. He wanted to write under a new name, so he chose a riverboat expression: "Mark Twain," a call given when the river is two fathoms deep, about 12 feet, which means it is safe for the average steamboat. And so Mark Twain became a writer.
He lived in California, Europe, New York, and Connecticut, but never again along the Mississippi, although he went back in 1882 in order to do research for a project about life as a riverboat pilot. And he went back to the river again and again in his fiction, in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876), Pudd'nhead Wilson (1894), and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885).
[Twain's works are well-known in Korea. Though an American author, his words speak to the core of the human condition and reveal our deepest needs.]
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/
The town of Florida was about 30 miles inland from the Mississippi River, and Samuel's father, trained as a lawyer, was finding it impossible to support himself in Florida as a lawyer, or a politician or storekeeper, for that matter. So when Sam was four, his father moved the family to Hannibal, Missouri, right on the river, figuring that he would have better business there.
For a while, Sam had an ordinary childhood, playing with other boys his age, exploring the caves near Hannibal, playing elaborate pranks on fellow townspeople. But when he was 11, his father died, and after fifth grade he never went back to school. He was an apprentice with local printers, including his older brother Orion, who had bought out several of the area's newspapers. When he got tired of working for his brother, he went and worked as a typesetter on the East Coast. But he wasn't very successful.
Like many boys growing up along the Mississippi, Sam had dreamed of being a riverboat pilot, and so when he found himself, at 22 years old, struggling to make a living as a printer, he decided to switch careers entirely and give his childhood dream a try. It was a rigorous job, requiring an 18-month apprenticeship that cost $500 (more than $10,000 today). But he loved life on a riverboat. He said, "A pilot, in those days, was the only unfettered and entirely independent human being that lived in the earth."
And Sam Clemens was good at learning the river, and a very good pilot. He made enough money to pay off his debts, support his mother, and have some money left over to spend in St. Louis and New Orleans, where he learned to drink and dance. He admitted that he found it satisfying to walk around with hundred dollar bills peeking out between his smaller bills to show off to the pilots who didn't think he could ever learn the river as well as he did.
And he might have stayed this way for the rest of his life, a successful steamboat captain enjoying the river and the nightlife of the river cities, if the Civil War had not come along. In the spring of 1861, all the river traffic was stopped, and Sam no longer had a job.
His older brother was given the job of Secretary of the Nevada Territory, and was set to leave that summer. He asked Sam if he would like to travel west with him, and Sam agreed. He got a job writing for a newspaper in Virginia City, Nevada. He wanted to write under a new name, so he chose a riverboat expression: "Mark Twain," a call given when the river is two fathoms deep, about 12 feet, which means it is safe for the average steamboat. And so Mark Twain became a writer.
He lived in California, Europe, New York, and Connecticut, but never again along the Mississippi, although he went back in 1882 in order to do research for a project about life as a riverboat pilot. And he went back to the river again and again in his fiction, in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876), Pudd'nhead Wilson (1894), and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885).
[Twain's works are well-known in Korea. Though an American author, his words speak to the core of the human condition and reveal our deepest needs.]
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/
29 November 2009
Why I Teach
A week or so ago, I recieved an email from Mark Johnson, the Director of Public Relations at Fontbonne University. It was an email that he had sent out to all Fontbonne faculty. Mark asked a simple question: "Why do you teach?" Here's my answer to his question -
All of us teach others through what we say, how we act and the ways in which we live each day. Whether we intend to or not, we are influencing, instructing and, in many ways, shaping the lives of others. A few people are privileged and enabled to be involved in this endeavor in a purposeful way.
I teach because I’ve been shaped and equipped by others to teach, and when I’m teaching I sense that I’m being the person and doing the very human activity I was designed to be and equipped to do.
I been given the opportunity to teach at several different institutions during my career, and I can say without the slightest hesitation that my experiences teaching at Fontbonne have been the most enriching. Here I’ve been encouraged and supported to create learning experiences together with my students that flow out of pondering the questions of life.
Questions like those posed by Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner in their book, Teaching as a Subversive Activity: “What, if anything, seems to you to be worth dying for? What seems worth living for? How can ‘good’ be distinguished from ‘evil’?” Equipping and challenging others to reflect upon these sorts of questions is, to me, what teaching is all about.
I wrote those words as I reflected upon my teaching experiences the past four years at Fontbonne in St. Louis. During these past four months teaching here at Handong, I continue to sense a renewal of my calling to teach. The renewal comes through an on-going openness to ask myself those persistent questions and to listen to others for insights into their answers.
All of us teach others through what we say, how we act and the ways in which we live each day. Whether we intend to or not, we are influencing, instructing and, in many ways, shaping the lives of others. A few people are privileged and enabled to be involved in this endeavor in a purposeful way.
I teach because I’ve been shaped and equipped by others to teach, and when I’m teaching I sense that I’m being the person and doing the very human activity I was designed to be and equipped to do.
I been given the opportunity to teach at several different institutions during my career, and I can say without the slightest hesitation that my experiences teaching at Fontbonne have been the most enriching. Here I’ve been encouraged and supported to create learning experiences together with my students that flow out of pondering the questions of life.
Questions like those posed by Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner in their book, Teaching as a Subversive Activity: “What, if anything, seems to you to be worth dying for? What seems worth living for? How can ‘good’ be distinguished from ‘evil’?” Equipping and challenging others to reflect upon these sorts of questions is, to me, what teaching is all about.
I wrote those words as I reflected upon my teaching experiences the past four years at Fontbonne in St. Louis. During these past four months teaching here at Handong, I continue to sense a renewal of my calling to teach. The renewal comes through an on-going openness to ask myself those persistent questions and to listen to others for insights into their answers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)