Topsy Turvy

I used to like math because there was always a definite answer to the sums that I did. QED. It gave me a punctuated sense of accomplishment to see my working build towards a precise conclusion.

In contrast, I liked writing essays and answering comprehension questions in my language papers because of the smoky, amorphous nature of the answers required. I liked that I could bluff my way through any paper and still come out pristine and right in the end.

But in these few years of teaching and sporadic writing, I've come to realise that I was wrong.

Mathematics seems more and more to be about patterns and probability, educated guesses trying to make sense in a chaotic world; while language seems more and more about finding pinpoint accuracy in one's words, to reveal a mind, a heart, a soul.

Funny how perceptions change with age.

Funny how I should be thinking about this near midnight on my mother's birthday.

Self-glorification

From The Blind Assassin, by Margaret Atwood. (I have fallen in love with her dead accrurate, cuttingly beautiful prose).

'Why is it we want so badly to memorialise ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on tress, we scrawl them on bathroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.'

Below - evidence of my pride, my delight tinged with sheepishness as I wonder why I want so much to add this link here.
http://www.moe.gov.sg/corporate/contactonline/2006/issue13/sub_BigPicture_Art01.htm

Authority

I was rifling through my drawer of accessories the other day and I found this silver band, inscribed with the word 'Authority', that I had forgotten about.

I had bought and inscribed it about four years ago after a painful break-up and a subsequent church camp. At the church camp (very emotional and cathartic), someone had been praying for me and in the midst of the prayer, somehow an image of this ring popped into my mind. Alongside the image was a quiet voice in my voice saying ' I restore authority to you.' At that time, I had vague ideas about what that meant. I only knew that I felt touched that God was looking into my situation and I took the band to mean I should steer clear of men for at least a year. (at this point down the road, the connection seems rather illogical, but in retrospect, all turned out well..).

Fast forward. Reading a book by Parker Palmer - 'The courage to teach'. Incredible stuff. On what integrity as a teacher (& a person) means, on vulnerability.. and on authority.
These are some excerpts -
'In a culture of technique, we often confuse authority with power, but the two are not the same. Power works from the outside in, but authority works from the inside out. .. External tools of power (he cites threats of grades) have occasional utiltiy in teaching, but they are no substitute for authority, the authority that comes from the teacher's inner life. The clue is in the word itself, which has author at its core.
Authority is granted to people who are perceived as authoring their own words, their own actions, their own lives, rather than playing a scripted role at great remove from their own hearts. .... when my teaching is authorised by the teacher within me, I need neither weapons nor armour to teach.'

Neither weapons nor armour. Oh, to continue on this journey without need for weapons or armour, how freeing that would be!

The words struck me at my core when I read them this morning. It is only now, four years later, that I realise what that ring meant. My attempt to fit into a perfect Christian girlfriend mould in that preceding year had robbed me of integrity and authority, and I believe God was returning these to me.

I believe He still is, as I wrestle to be brave enough to take off my masks and present myself as an author of this life I've been given, not just as a player in a scripted role.