Add a Little Sugar . . .

Note:  Anyone who actually understands the title to this blog is impressive. I'm tired, not feeling at all creative and need to post this now.

It's been particularly blustery in the D. C. area lately. I could look at that poetically - nature is sweeping out the old and blowing in the new. I could look at it more scientifically - sheesh, my cheeks hurt! The wonder of it is that I can and do look at it from different perspectives. I love that word. Perspective. I love it as much as I love the word practice.*

Perspective is what has saved me from my old, bad attitudes that still plague me on occasion. If you know someone with a bad attitude, instead of telling them that they need a good attitude (they probably already know that; they just won't admit it to you) help them find a different perspective. 

I'm going to share a story with you about problems I had with one of my teachers. First, a word in her favor:

She tried to teach us something that, if her students heeded her advice, will have forever helped us in all areas of life. She tried to keep us on track and in the moment. It never failed when we were called on and made any mistakes, we'd start to chastise ourselves. She warned against this for many reasons. Mainly it took the focus off what we were doing (or trying to do). Secondly, it set a bad habit of abandoning that for which what we were working so hard. Remember, practice makes permanent. Holding tightly to that which we want and keeping at bay all distractions is invaluable. Imagine what we would be capable of mentally if we could keep our focus that strongly amid all that the world throws in our way every day.

So, obviously, I learned from her and she was skilled. I also had difficulties with her. She didn't like to answer my questions. It had not always been that way. The first several classes, when I'd ask a question, she'd not only answer it, she'd say something like "What an interesting question" Then, she would evade them or dismissively tell me to not worry about it. Others could question her at length even redirect her when she wasn't addressing their exact issue. I was shut down. One day, it got so aggravating to me that I reacted poorly. I exclaimed, "Does it bother you that I want answers to my questions?" I did this during class. I apologized the next day. It got progressively worse, however. So I talked to myself. "I am here to learn. I am not here to be respected. I am here to learn." I decided, after that little pep talk, that I'd hold my questions until study hall where she would answer them or I'd ask another teacher on duty. 

I got perspective. I didn't abandon myself, however. I acknowledged that I was being disrespected. I also acknowledged that there was nothing I could do about that. She would behave the way she would behave and I would behave the way I would behave. I decided to behave the best I could while keeping in mind the purpose of my being in the class. 

I stopped myself from over-thinking the situation. "Why is she picking on me?" "Why does she answer his questions?" "Why can't she just give me a simple yes or no and move on?" Good questions all, maybe, but irrelevant. I was there to learn. Could I learn while saving my questions for a later time? Yes. Could I learn while put out with the teacher? Yes. Could I learn while pushing the issue during class, wasting the time of others and possibly getting myself kicked out? Not as easily, nope. Perspective.

She came up to me once outside of class and asked me if I was angry. I answered, yes. We talked and I told her everything. She denied everything and told me that I disrespected her. In other words, we got nowhere since she flat out denied her own behavior.  

In time, some students joined our class and I noticed that she was treating me better. One of the new students was struggling greatly and not keeping up on the material. I didn't know this student's life outside of class. Did he even study? I didn't know. He certainly seemed to put out effort during class. All I saw is what we all saw, someone to whom this subject matter did not come easily. Nothing stuck. Basic lessons learned early on seemed new every day. Everything confounded him. The teacher was not always patient with him. She'd say downright rude things to him, "Come on. Keep up." She'd laugh at him. It hurt to watch this go on and I wanted to say something, but it wasn't my battle to fight. So I watched it and squirmed for him. And I noticed something. Her whole tone changed when she was addressing him. He was an irritation and she let it be known. It was the same tone she used to use with me. I recognized it. Her voice got dull and tired sounding. She obviously felt put upon in having to deal with him. It seemed as though she had chosen a new victim.

But I don't think that was the case. Even then, in the thick of it, I never thought she did any of this deliberately. As per our conversation, I don't think she was aware of it. With me, I wondered if subconsciously she favored the male students over me. There was one strong-voiced man who would have her attention whenever he wanted it. He would question some things down to the minutest details and she would patiently answer him. One of my friends thought that she felt like she had something to prove by keeping one student down at a time. I didn't like what this teacher did, but I didn't think she had an agenda.

In the midst of all this I started noticing something completely unrelated. When I would watch people I would see them as their younger self. I saw the 10 year old in presidents, celebrities, my own husband, even strangers. I saw what they had made of themselves and wondered how proud - or ashamed - their parents were. I wondered what their 10 year old self would think if they could have seen their adult self at that age. I wondered how the life of that 10 year old affected the behavior of this adult. I don't know why I started noticing all this in so many people, so many strangers. Maybe I was catching glimpses of my 10 year old self so I simply saw that in others. I don't know. But I think it was what gave me the perspective I was able to have in that situation with my teacher. I recognized this grown person navigating her way through life, trying to figure out how to handle the unexpected on the spot. And sometimes she failed.

One of my favorite authors is Frank Delaney. I'm reading The Matchmaker of Kenmare. Twice in this book a character says that if we can tell our own life story as though it were a legend, it could be very healing. Glimpsing into my own past (the 10 year old me) and the memories of what I have risen out of and what I have risen to are, I believe, the beginnings of my telling my own story.

The wind just blew someone's torn Christmas tree sack onto our balcony. The wind is blowing trash everywhere. Trash we have either misplaced or trash that has gotten away from us. I don't want to live my life leaving trash behind. In the midst of experiences like this with my teacher, I remind myself that I want to write more and, with every experience, my writing skills grow. They grow with characterizations I may not have invented without having known certain people. They grow with my observing my own dealings with others and the failed and successful ways I handle them. I should be grateful. Perhaps my attitude isn't that positive yet, but I think I'm heading there.

*I have written about the word (and the concept) of practice before. One of my teachers at the YMCA used to warn us that practice makes permanent in regards to our posture and other habits. One of my yoga teachers reminded us to not watch those around us during class ("Is she more flexible than me?"), but to focus on our self. She taught us that we spend our lives practicing yoga. We don't one day say, "I can yoga!" It's a process as is most of life.