Journelism

For myriad reasons both secular and spiritual, we strive to live by a set of rules, a group of key tenets, that will best serve the overall good.

But what of the less obvious of these behaviors? What of the aspects of daily life that are not generally seen, overtly recognized or otherwise reinforced? These can be equally important—crucial even—for lives of integrity and productivity.

Do thoughts and self-regard remain humble in the wake of praise? Is gratitude present no matter how hard the work, how deserving the reward? Is conduct that recognizes and embraces others a natural part of every day, of each interaction?

These are among the keys to lives that make a meaningful difference, not spare behaviors that offer little by way of concrete contributions. On the contrary, those aspects of life that draw little attention can be among the most gratifying.

What we do when no one is looking can be far more revealing than when the cameras are turned on, the people are watching, the actions are scrutinized. Ultimately, everything is uncovered and laid bare; how we account for ourselves can either be a source of stress or peace. Why not simply choose the latter?

The consequences are invariably rewarding.

It seems to be human nature to stay with what is familiar—even if painful or counterproductive. Most of us have had the experience of staying in a job too long or hanging on to a relationship that is no longer supportive. I’ll spare you my complete litany and just share one story.

For 8½ years, I worked as a clerical employee for the FBI (yes, the Federal Bureau of Investigation). I was a stenographer and then a secretary. During my first seven years, many FBI agents told me I should go to college and become an agent. I always brushed off those suggestions.

Attempts to change my mind often included pointing out agents who messed up somehow, and saying things like, “If he can be an agent, so can you.” I believe people thought I was afraid I would not succeed in college or as an agent, and I thought that for a while, too.

At some point, though, I realized that I was comfortable with my job and identity. My parents were very proud of me, and I had many good friends in the Bureau. I could do my job without much effort, and had lots of free time after work for other pursuits. Although I had not gone to college, I had always taken pride in the fact that I was very well read. Change, and even success, would mean a whole new identity, and that scared me more than anything. I could not imagine who this new person would be.

I did eventually go to college but did not return to the FBI. Once I had let go of my identity as high-school graduate/FBI secretary, I became open to opportunities I had not been able to envision.

Many of the people who come to the Literacy Council are working through similar identity dilemmas. For many of them, negative messages have shaped how they see themselves and the world.  Even though they know their limited literacy skills are holding them back, imagining a new identity and different way of life is not so easy. They come to us with hopes of something else, but usually don’t know or can’t say what that means.

Each adult who comes to us is asked, “What is your goal?” “To read better,”  “to speak English” or “to get my GED” are common answers. If pushed, “To what end?” there is usually no answer.

Dare people even imagine getting a job in a field they love? Can they voice the dream that might be deeply buried?

It is most often the tutors who discover the yearnings of students’ hearts. They build positive relationships in which lifetimes of negative messages are replaced with affirmation and praise. Over time, the fear is replaced with trust and confidence, invariably accompanied by meaningful progress.

One of the classrooms in my junior high had an Abraham Lincoln quote framed and hung on the wall: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.”

I always thought it an odd quote to have in a classroom because I did not see how I could learn anything if it was foolish to speak up. But I read that quote every day and it did a good job of keeping me from asking questions or offering answers.

I am sometimes reminded of this quote when I observe our adult literacy tutoring sessions. I think that many of our adult learners probably read the same quote—or were silenced by other means. At some point in their lives, they equated asking questions and learning with being put down or made to feel foolish, and so they kept quiet.

Many of the adults who come to the Literacy Council have huge gaps in their knowledge.  They may not know how our government works or how many states make up the United States. World geography can just be foreign to them. Even ordinary things like weights and measurements may be unfamiliar territory.

For most of us, the early school years lay the groundwork for our education and we then build on that base. Many of our students lack such a foundation and have to start at the beginning. It can be humiliating to have to acknowledge that lack of the basics. It can also look like an insurmountable task.

Yet by the time they muster the courage to seek help, these adults know they must start asking questions if they want their lives to change.

I think I would rewrite Mr. Lincoln’s admonition to something like: “Better to ask questions that may seem foolish than to remain in ignorance.”

What happens after you get laid off from that desk job, the one that was doable and steady but never all that exciting? Or perhaps you just had your fill of getting the morning coffee, going in to the office each day, fulfilling your responsibilities with efficiency if not much enthusiasm, and eagerly awaiting that lifeline and timeline du jour: 5 o’clock.

To be able to turn a static life into one of stimulation and achievement is not an easy leap, and often requires courage to live with the resulting uncertainty. But provided that health is not an issue (a circumstance never to be taken for granted, especially among the younger generation to whom death is a mere mask), why not use the layoff notice or cubicle boredom as a springboard? Why not make the jump into something that enhances, that enables a real contribution rather than the contrition that often accompanies the status quo?

Yes of course, there are many office jobs that provide creativity and camaraderie, paychecks and perks, benefits and brainstorms. By all means, go with them and make the most of the resulting opportunities that can be both plentiful and tangible.

But for those who fall within the elevator’s lower floors, take heed and hope. Press the buttons of your personal enthusiasms. Watch the double doors open and walk confidently outside.

There is kaleidoscopic life after that office job.

Many of the adults who come to the Literacy Council for help improving their literacy skills believe that they can’t learn. They often were not successful in school and have low self-esteem and a great deal of shame because of their negative school experiences and low literacy levels.

But the truth is that they have learned a great deal. They have often mastered a field involving manual labor or learned a skill as an apprentice. They usually work at something that does not require much reading or writing.

They have also developed all kinds of techniques for covering up their low literacy skills; I marvel at the ingenuity of some of their coping mechanisms.

As adults, we are all learning new things every day, whether it is from watching a TV show, reading a book or surfing the web. What we don’t do is take the time to mark our learning experiences, to say, “I have learned something today.” But I am sure that each of us can look back over the last week and name at least three things we have learned.

What we are learning on a day-to-day basis may not be life changing, but it is still learning. This kind of learning just sort of happens, in a non-structured way and without much effort on our parts.

Then there is the more formal learning—attending a workshop, taking a class or pursuing a degree. This kind of learning requires a commitment and usually some changes to our daily routines.

For the adults who come to us for help, their learning is the latter type. They have to commit to attending tutoring sessions at least twice a week for an hour and a half each time and doing homework. They have to carve out time from lives full of work and family responsibilities.

Last summer I went to Poland; upon returning I began to study Polish. I bought a computer-based language program and spent at last one-half hour a day learning Polish. I had to make some adjustments to my daily routine to fit in my lesson and did that willingly.

Two months later, I got a new puppy and had to make more adjustments to my daily schedule. I hadn’t anticipated the amount of time this puppy would take up, but quickly learned that something had to give.

My Polish lessons shifted from one-half hour every day to an hour on Saturday and Sunday; supplemented by listening to a Polish CD when driving. I am still intent on learning Polish; only my method and timetable have changed.

My experience with studying Polish has given me a new insight into how difficult it is to squeeze one more thing into my already-full days. No matter how strong my desire, I just cannot always give as much of my time or energy to Polish as I want.

For our students, the demands on their time may be new jobs or the opportunity to work extra hours. It may be new responsibilities with children or grandchildren or having to take care of a sick relative. They are in the same predicament as I am with my Polish—they want to improve their literacy skills, yet family and other obligations impinge on their time.

I am committed to learning Polish—and to being more compassionate toward our students who need to make adjustments to their timeline for improving literacy skills.