I was on campus briefly this weekend and felt the nervous
energy of freshmen and their parents as they moved their life’s possessions
into their tiny dorm rooms. I know that energy well; I was one of them, once. I
know the intensity of the schedule – the orientation events, the placement
exams, the ensemble auditions, the dorm initiation activities. It will be a
whirlwind few days, and then on Wednesday, thirty-five students will stumble
into my classroom – excited, nervous, terrified, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,
hoarse from the yell-off and Mock Rock, loving life more than ever before,
wondering if this is really for them.
Truth be told, I am not ready for them. Sure, my syllabus
is posted, but I was smart enough to write “SUBJECT TO CHANGE” at the top. How
you are supposed to plan the activities and readings and assignments for EVERY
SINGLE DAY of class before you have even seen the whites of their eyes is still
completely beyond me. So it has been submitted to the powers that be – but there
are still lessons to plan, lectures to write, exams to create.
There are certain things I must cover this semester –
concepts they must learn, skills they must acquire, knowledge they will be held
accountable for. So I have planned and planned. I have sat and stared at the
calendar, wondering how it’s possible to fit so much into a mere 14 weeks. How
many days can we afford to spend on seventh chords or non-harmonic tones? I
have grown dizzy as I have tried to figure out the best order for introducing
various concepts. Lord knows I’m still torn on whether or not to explore minor
scales before our discussion of the circle of fifths. I have spent hours
wondering how much I will be able to fit into one hour of class time. Will we
be able to cover all four triad qualities AND discuss the qualities of triads
built on the various scale degrees?
With all this planning and preparation, it would be easy
for me to begin this year with the mindset that I am here to teach my students
something.
But the truth is: I am here to learn. I am here to learn
their names and their faces. I am here to uncover their abilities, their
strengths, their weaknesses. I am here to listen to their stories, their
dreams, their passions.
As I sip my wine this evening, I turn, as I have often
done at important moments in my musical development, to what I have come to
refer to as my “musical Bible” - a book called “Zen Guitar” by Philip Toshio
Sudo. My copy has been well-loved; its pages are browning, the cover is
wrinkled, and there are hundreds of underlined phrases, sentences, paragraphs
and notes in the margins.
This particular evening, I find myself flipping to the
chapter on wearing the white belt, the color worn by a beginner. As he works and
learns, his belt gradually dirties and eventually turns to black – the color worn by a master. But he does not stop there; he continues to work, and as he
does, the belt fades and eventually returns to white. It is a never-ending
cycle. It is not about “arriving” at a destination – but is instead about being
faithful to the process.
My choir director in college used to refer to us as “wearers
of the white belt” – those who have, as Sudo describes, chosen to “set aside
all knowledge and preconceptions and open [their minds] to learning as though
for the first time.” Wearers of the white belt come with empty cups, ready to learn and receive.
We've all known the people who’ve come in with all the
answers. We see them coming, a mile away, and we start heading in the opposite
direction. We’ve also been those
people. We’ve come in with everything figured out, ready to teach the
class or flaunt our vast wisdom and experience. And oh, the things we’ve
missed. The lessons we haven’t learned. The nuggets of wisdom we let slip through the cracks.
Sudo says it well: “The moment you think you know
everything there is to know, you will have lost the way. The beginner’s mind is
the mind of wisdom.”
It’s true – I do
have things to teach, wisdom to offer, experiences to share. But I also have
much to learn, new perspectives to discover, fresh insights to gain.
On Wednesday, 35 students will stumble into my classroom.
On Wednesday, 35 teachers
will stumble into my classroom.
So tonight I don my white belt.
Tonight I empty my cup.
I
am ready to learn.
Photo Credit: Chinwe Edeani www.photosbychinwe.tumblr.com
No comments:
Post a Comment