Things I have learnt from my tree

For a while I've been thinking about a photo blog that my sister-in-law did - a photo a day of her suburb. I've toyed with the idea, because I'm fascinated with how one can be forced to see one's surroundings in a different light, which reveals surprises one would otherwise have missed. But I'm not sure that I could get a new photo every day from my environment... So instead I have been thinking about what else I could do that could help me to see the world differently.

Over the holidays I've started working on a series of blog posts that I'm entitling: what I have learnt from.... Originally, it was just going to be about what I've learnt about life and God from my dogs (and wow! There's a lot to learn! In fact, I think someone did write a book about just that - Lessons from a sheep dog, I seem to recall it was entitled), but then I realized that I've been learning about stuff from all sorts of things. Pondering that led me to decide to write this series, because I'm a teacher and I love teaching others the truths I have learnt, whether about DNA or matters of the heart.

This first post is not the first one I drafted, but it feels appropriate for today. Not sure why, but it is. So if you want to read the ones about my dogs, you'll have to come back another day.

This is the tree in my garden. When I first saw it, I hated it instantly, vehemently. Why? Because it is a Syringa. Syringas are horrid trees for a variety of reasons - they drop millions of mountains ofwhite blossoms  everywhere; they produce poisonous berries; they drop those berries on the lawn till it looks like a pebble-covered beach; because their pollen makes me sneeze. I was determined to chop it down as soon as possible. 

Twelve years later it is still here, and I have moved from hatred through tolerance and acceptance, to appreciation. (I'm not quite at the love stage yet, but I'm sure I will get there in time.) How was that possible? While staring at it one day, through my window, I realised that this tree didn't ask to be a Syringa. It just is one. It didn't ask to be planted in my garden; someone else made that choice, because they liked it. This tree doesn't choose to produce poisonous berries or drop its blossoms everywhere - it does that as a function of the type of tree it is (which it didn't choose for itself).

As I pondered those facts, I suddenly realized I was willing to give the tree the benefit of the doubt. Weird, yeah, I know. I started to see the things I now appreciate about it - it is a beautiful shade tree; it has lovely strong and spreading boughs - suitable for hanging multiple swings and things from and building a tree house (which is currently still just a dream in my head); its flowers are actually beautiful (and numerous); it is a lovely safe environment for Wit Ogies and other birds to hide in as they flit from tree to tree looking for food; the leaves make a beautiful sound as they rustle together in the breeze.

As I pondered these things I appreciated, I realized that in life, it is the same. We hate or dislike others because of what they are, forgetting that (often) they did not choose to be born into that family, or to be a certain race, or to be rich, or poor, or from a certain nation, or of a particular spirituality, or to think in a particular way. Often, all these things are a feature of our birth - whether genetics or the environment in which we are raised, or a combination of both. Either way, we cannot choose our genetics or our childhood environment. These two things make us what we are, fundamentally. (Of course, we can choose to change, but that requires a certain amount of reflection, a lot of hard work and deep motivation, which many people lack.)

In this extraordinary nation of ours, we celebrate diversity in public, but in private we are frequently much more conservative and exclusive. We love those who are like us and despise those who are different - different gender expressions, or ages, or social-economic status, or education level, or family status, or races, or nationalities, or different mother-tongue speakers, or body shapes, or thought processes, or priorities, or whatever - or we despise ourselves and wish fervently we could be like someone else instead.

How do we begin to bridge the divide? How do we begin to celebrate our diversity in truth, and. It just in name? Looking at my tree, I don't think the answer is in trying to find our commonality, nor to focus on our diversity. Focussing on our commonality denies the value that our differences bring, leads to exclusivity and make us more likely to hide who we truly are from each other. Focussing on our differences and celebrating them because they are different denies our common humanity and leads to pride. I think a third way is a better way.

When pondering my tree I did not look for commonality - my shared DNA (we share a lot more genes than you would think!), or that I am a strong woman (metaphorically) and it has strong branches, or that I shelter my children the way it shelters the birds... - nor did I look for our differences - to celebrate that it is larger than I, or greener than I, or a tree instead of a human. Instead, I looked to see what value it brings to my garden. That value is based on what the tree is - both a tree, and specifically a Syringa. By focusing on the intrinsic value it brings, I learnt to appreciate it. 

I love lying in the shade of my tree. I love seeing the birds resting in its boughs and sheltering in its leaves. I love to see the beautiful flowers it produces. I love to see my children playing on the swings we hung from it. I love the fact that when I drive home along a particular route I can see my tree before anything else - it marks the spot that is my home. This is the value this tree brings, not because it is the same as me, or different to me, but because it is a Syringa tree in my garden.

If I can see people in this third way, by putting them at the centre instead of how they relate to me (which is putting myself at the centre), for the value they bring because of who they are, and not for their similarities to me, or differences, then I think there is hope for me, and for my environment, and for my city. If I can, then I think I can avoid both pride ("I am better than them") and despair ("they are so much better than me/ I am worthless"); I think I could then overcome my fear of the other, and walk in true freedom with the other.

But how is this possible? Well, I'm not sure it is. I am so given to comparisons and snap judgements, albeit secretly in my head and heart, that on my own I don't think I can truly change my mind-set on this. Plus, despite my best efforts, I still have so many stereotypes rolling around inside my head, many of which I'm not even conscious of! But fortunately, I'm not on my own. Fortunately, I have a Helper. Even with His help, I know it will be tough, but nothing worth having comes easily or without a price tag. Still though, this will be something I will need to choose each day, every day - to allow the Spirit to open my eyes to the value of others, not because of how they relate to me, but because of who they intrinsically are.

Thanks be to God for my Syringa tree!

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

As I was driving home the other day, I passed near to the home of a friend, James Thomas, who was killed in the Nairobi Westgate Mall shooting on 21 Sep 2013. I began to contemplate the events and its consequences, and was surprised how quickly my anger at both the fact of James' death and the manner of his death rose to the surface again. Grief is a strange animal, walking in circles and spirals, never fully resting.

(Some great articles were written about it at the time. Here are a selection: iol news, Mail & Guardian, Daily Maverick.)

In allowing my rage a voice, I found myself quoting from Dylan Thomas' epic poem to God, so I wanted to share this poem with the world again. James was one of those individuals who simply did not consider getting old. Every moment was one to grabbed by both hands and exploited to the fullest. He had a deep and abiding joy, and a zest for life, that is rare. He was a 'wild [man] who caught and sang the sun in flight'. I know that it came from his deep faith in God. I miss him terribly. I know the world is poorer because he is no longer in it.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Is there any hope for the SA education system?

One of the sessions at the Global Leadership Summit was a talk by Allen Catherine Kagina. She heads up Uganda's Revenue Authority, i.e. the tax collection system. Over the past 10 years she has taken this corrupt and inefficient system and turned it around completely. 

Granted, she did take some pretty dramatic steps, like firing absolutely every single person in this government department and making hem reapply for their position. She did this so that only this most honest and competent people would end up working for her. 

If we tried that here, with our education department, to get rid of both incompetence and corruption, there is no doubt that SADTU would throw a frothy. (I doubt that Naptosa would, because they aren't politically motivated the way that SADTU is.) Never the less, that remains a tempting action.

Yet, all that she has accomplished, she did in a relatively short space of time. The URAhas gone from vying for first place as the most corrupt organisation in Uganda to having her staff head hunted by UN, WHO, etc. because of their high level of integrity.

Is it possible that this could happen in SA's education system? Is it possible that this failing institution, rife with incompetency, could be turned around?

I was sure that it couldn't. I had washed my hands of this system, given up, content to just influence the small number of children I teach and colleagues I interact with. I had become completely disillusioned with the DBE and the provincial governments. 

But now? 

Having heard Allen speak about what God can do, having heard about how the URA has changed completely, I believe the same is potentially true for us. 

YES, I believe there is hope for education in SA. Why? Because The God we serve is a big God, for whom nothing is impossible. NOTHING.

What will it take to make this happen? Prayer, and lots of it, and leadership - strong, ethical, visionary leadership. 

I hear God call - 'Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?' And my heart responds - 'Here am I. Send me.'

What will you do with your dash?

Having been on a leadership conference the past two days, I wanted to share some of the moments that really touched me.

While many of us may choose to be cremated when we die, the principle illustrated in this photo is true for all of us. Our lives can be summed up by that little dash between our birth date and death date. It's such a little thing, and, cosmically speaking, our lives are actually that insignificant - unless we choose to make them significant.

What are you doing with your dash?

You only get one life. It will probably only last about 80 years (excluding the possibility of a dread disease or accident killing you before then). 

One of the most recent Nobel Peace Prizes was given to the youngest ever person - a 17 year old girl who, at age 15, had already been campaigning for the rights of girls to receive education. At age 15 she had already angered a group of people to such an extent that they shot her. Her name is Malala Yousafzai. I tell you about her because I know that when I think of 80 years as a life span, I am tempted to think that 'my life only really began when I started working'. Doing so allows me to excuse myself from having made a difference until I was age 20-odd. Yet, here's a girl who, by age 15 was already making a SIGNIFICANT difference.

So I challenge you again - what will you do with your one and only dash?

And before you start thinking that only young people can make a difference - remember that Mother Theresa was 87 when she died, still active in her calling of helping lepers and that Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu is currently 83.

And if you start thinking that your socio-economic status is a hindrance to making a difference, or your gender, then, again, you're wrong. Over the years I have seen plenty of news stories about women in the townships who have taken in scores of AIDS orphans on next to nothing, out of which the GoGo's Trust has been established.

So I ask you again, what will you do with your dash?

I have been challenged by this. I believe I am already making a difference - by trying to raise my kids in the best way I can, by being the best teacher I can, by getting involved in leadership in my local church, by volunteering with Cape Town Expo to help train and teach teachers and pupils about the scientific method, and by having started Born Sleeping. Yet, I still feel the challenge. I still feel there is more I could be doing. I am so conscious of the incredible need around me. At times, I am overwhelmed by it, to the point of emotional exhaustion when I feel I have to tune out the entire world - from the beggar at the traffic lights to my own kids just to survive.

But when I die, the legacy I want to leave is a trail of lives that I have affected for good. I want there to be a long line of people who have come to faith through my actions (and I'm rubbish at even friendship evangelism!), whose faith has been deepened and encouraged by me, by people who got an excellent education, who were inspired to DO something (not just to feel good), and who felt the comfort of God through my words and hands. I want my kids to say that I have left them more than just money, but a legacy of faith and trust in our Lord.

What legacy do you want to leave behind? What are you doing to make that legacy a reality?

Iconic moments of the 21st century (so far)

I came across this collection of iconic moments from the 21st century.

I was struck by how Americo-centric they are. I know that in each nation, there would be a different set of images. I wonder what a truly global set of images would look like. There's no doubt that many American images would appear, but I wonder how many would not.

I was also struck by the common humanity displayed - the compassion, the suffering, the hope, as well as the cruelty and violence inherent in our species. We are made in the image of God, with his capacity for love and forgiveness and kindness, yet we are marred by our own sin, which twists the good within us towards hatred, fear and narcissism.

As I reflect back on the last 14 years, I am struck by how much I have changed as a person. I like who I am now more than who I was. I am happier now than I was. My personal iconic moments are (in no particular order, although broadly chronological) graduating from varsity, getting married, falling pregnant with my firstborn, each of my children's births or deaths, my father's cancer, my husband's great-aunt's death, my non-selection for ordination... For each of these there is a photo in my head. Some of them I wish I could share with you, some are just too private. Some are pictures of the scene at the time (from my perspective, looking 'out' of my head*), some of them are images of my emotions - patterns of colour that represent my emotions at the time, some are images of something relating to the event.

I am amazed at the picture story book in my head. With our content creation capabilities today, I am stunned by how much I am still unable to share with others (and more than a little grateful). If I were an artist, I think I would try to paint some of the more abstract pictures in my head, but I'm not. So I have to rely on the pictures that others have taken, to represent some of the shared moments in history, to share our common emotions and reactions to events.

Which brings me back to this photo collection. This is one person's attempt at capturing the moments in time that he thinks sum up the highlights and low lights of the last 14 years. I wouldn't call it a failure - in fact, there is so much in there that I had forgotten about! (Time flies when you're wiping bottoms and cleaning up puke!) This is definitely a good start.

I challenge you though - if you have time this holiday - to put your own photo compilation together and share it with me. (I would love to do this, but as I'm on conference, my holiday is already otherwise booked up....) Maybe I will do just that during my next holiday break.
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*because we don't see out of our eyes, we see into them, of course - as any biologist could tell you.

Make time for friends

Life is busy. Always. I keep telling myself that next week will be calmer, or the week after that. If I'm realistic though, my life never slows down, except maybe when we go away as a family at the end of the year. I'm realizing afresh that if I'm not careful, my life will control me, instead of the other way around.

I was struck by a comment in an inspirational email sent to me recently: make time for friends. 

Make time.... This is an admission that time is in short supply in our lives. At a recent parenting workshop someone mentioned that for every hr you spend working, instead of playing with your kids, is like failing to have spent 100 hours with them. I'm not sure how that was calculated, but it reminded me of that well-known maxim: when you die, what will you regret - having worked those few extra hours, or not having spent those few extra hours with your loved ones? 

Make time.... This is an active process. This requires me to get off my butt and actively do something. Whether it is rescheduling things, or saying no to some things, or phoning that person to book a time to see them, this requires more from me than the 'let's get together sometime' euphemism.

Make time for friends. Loved ones are more important than work. In the daily juggle between the things that are urgent, important or both urgent and important, very often the things that are only important get shoved down the list of priorities. Friends, family and relationships are important. Work is urgent. If I don't work now, I won't meet that deadline; I won't be paid; I will miss that fabulous opportunity which could really boost my business.... There are 1001 reasons why we have to work NOW. Work is urgent. People, though, are important. 

Without our relationships, what is all that work worth? Making time to be with family and friends is important on so many levels, yet in my own life, I often put work above people. I become impoverished as a result - I feel isolated, unloved, misunderstood, tired, joyless, stressed, guilty, to name but a few. Don't misunderstand me - I LOVE my job, I love my work. I find my work energizing (for the most part), but when I don't spend enough time with people, the pendulum swings too far to one side, and I become a horrible person.

I need to connect to people around me, irrespective of whether I am an introvert or extrovert. I need to connect to peopleat a deep level, regularly, to laugh with them, have fun with them, be accountable to them and hold them accountable, so that I can be the best possible me I can be.

Make time for friends.

What one thing will you do this weekend to make time for friends, family and loved ones?

Play time

After going through a phase of being seriously annoying to each other, and constantly fighting, the kids seem to be in a phase of playing nicely again. I can't really pinpoint what has made the difference, but I am loving it. 

Something I have noticed is that they play best when they have free play - time to just make up stuff, time to create. They are loving building bricks (we have several different brands - Lego, Duplo, etc - in different buckets) at the moment, and starting to get really creative with it. They also spend a lot of time playing make believe games. Of course, #1 generally decides what game it will be, and directs operations, but #2 gives a lot of input. 

Coincidentally I have been reading several blog posts and articles that have just popped up in my reading list about the importance of free play, particularly in the current education climate where play is being systematically removed from the curriculum. As a teacher I have always been aware of the increasing pressure on students - increased volumes of work as well as increasing difficulty levels of work at younger years. 

When I was at school, our second language was introduced in grade 2 or 3, at a conversational level only. Now, kids must be reading and writing in a second language before the end of grade 1. Our third language was only introduced in high school; now it is introduced in grade 3. I know there are good reasons for this - not least the fact that most children in this country do not have either English or Afrikaans as their home language, yet those will be the language of instruction in GET and FET phases. I support the theory that I. Order to help kids cope then we need to start the introduction of the language earlier. I'm just not sure the way it is being done is helpful. 

Similarly, at FET level, the work my matrics are doing was varsity level when I was at school. The reason for this is because the volume of knowledge is constantly increasing, and therefore there isn't time at varsity for everything to be taught. By introducing significant concepts at school, time at varsity is freed up. Yet, to what extent is doing this harming our kids? How many are turned off Maths because of having to do significantly more difficult algebra, or geometry or differentiation?  How many kids are turned off biology by having to have SO MUCH content thrust upon them? I get that there are certain biological concepts that are crucial for life, but then why not split them into different courses? Why not do an environmental management course, and a human physiology course, as two separate things? That would give appropriate time for practical work in each....... I could go on and rant for several pages, but I think you get the idea.

So how do we fix this? How do we create students who are engaged keen to learn, and yet also able to think at high levels and be creative, and yet are able to master content? The answer is that I don't think there is ONE way, and I think that is the fundamental problem with education. We still approach it with a manufacturing or factory mentality. Resources in, predictable process, then product out.

The thing with play is that it is not predictable. The resources are constantly changing, and the products do too. Some produce kids who know content, while others produce kids with skills, or personal qualities. Some games develop co-operation. Others develop creativity. Others develop perseverance. There cannot be a 'one size fits all' approach, because each child is unique. 

Of course, governments can't deal with this, because to them fairness means equal, or sameness. Any parent can tell you that fair does not mean equal. But that's another story.

I am loving watching my kids grow and develop through play. I am loving how the creativity flows out of them as they learn how to co-operate, negotiate, plan, take turns, share, communicate effectively, and dream. I wish school could be more like this, more fun, more play and less institutional.