Have you ever felt drawn to a place before?
Since I started at my current job in the summer of '06, I've taken essentially the same route to work each day. A fairly straight shot from Waldo to Mount Vernon, with a few curves, towns, and hills along the way to break it up a bit.
Apparently, after four years of this, my brain was looking to break up the routine a bit and I started daydreaming (I do this a lot, btw) of alternate routes. Eventually I recalled a path that allowed me to hop on a highway closer to my home and take it through Cardington.
Even if it is shorter in distance, it makes up for it in stops.
However, I really felt compelled to give it a shot. So, one day I headed out that way instead of my normal drive. About halfway in, I realized why I was drawn to this new way to work: the Lutheran Memorial Camp.
This is actually kind of weird, considering I've only been on the property a handful of times, including a recent visit (we'll get to that in a minute).
Yet, the first time I saw the sign, I was instantly transported to a different time. Oh, time travel does indeed exist, both forward and back. We make plans, projections into the future, right? Similarly, we can cast our minds back to a time long past, as if it just happened.
I thought of the first time that I was there as a camper in sixth grade. Our school, like many others, took all the sixth graders out there for a week, while recruiting well-behaved seniors to serve as counselors. What could go wrong, right?
Of course, there was some late night drama, lots of laughs, and a great experience in the wilderness (I actually learned some things), all in an idyllic setting. I remember the senior counselors, how I thought they were so much older (and cooler) than us.
I went back six years later, for I was then a well-behaved senior. I realized why I thought the seniors were cool when I was in sixth grade; as seniors, we were cool. I took an acoustic guitar and the latest RATT cassette, I had it going on. Again, I had a great time, wonderful facility. The camp is perfectly suited to the purpose for which it is used.
Back to the current day. After taking the new route for a few months, I finally detoured into the camp on my way in one day.
I forgot how long the driveway is, and how the whole camp is set in a wonderful woods. My dream driveway would look a lot like this.
Once I got into the camp proper, the waves of nostalgia began. I flashed back to memories of playing basketball and kickball, chasing girls (both visits), making candles, making rain sounds one night in the lodge with everyone (snapping, clapping, slapping our thighs) as it poured outside. Johnny Appleseed stories, wading in the creek, identifying different plants, and team building.
That was a week or so ago. Today, on my drive home, I wanted to get to the root of why this place called to me, after only a couple substantive visits.
That's when I remembered: I had actually been there a couple other times.
Once, when I was a seventh or eighth grader, I went to visit a friend who lived really close to the camp. He was one of my best friends as a kid, and our families spent a lot of time together. He and I walked back a trail where a railroad track once lay, and wandered through the woods of the camp. We chased crawdads in the creek; I tried snuff for the first (and last) time, and it made me sick.
The other time was with the same friend, only a few years later. I think I was a sophomore in high school, and I was invited to his younger brother's birthday (I was actually between the two brothers in age). I showed up to the party with my girlfriend at the time, and spent hardly any time at all at the party before bailing with the older brother and his girlfriend back the same trail to do some necking (ask you parents, kids) at the camp. Sorry, KD for being a big ol' schmuck - I've grown up a little (ok, quite a bit) since then.
Thinking about spending time with my friend eventually led to memories of losing him when I was a freshman in college. I was home on Christmas break, and ran into him early in the week. We exchanged contact info (as much as we had in 1987) and made plans to get together soon. It felt as if no time had passed between our last meetings, although it had been a few years.
A few days later, he was killed in an accident.
Yet, he is still alive for me, at least as long as I hold onto those memories. I can travel in time. I can hear his voice, hear him picking on me in a good way.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried a little bit.
But it wasn't a bad thing. This seemingly random release of emotion is an indication of how powerful memories can be in our minds.
Thanks, Lutheran Memorial Camp, nostalgia can be a wonderful thing.
D
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
#8 - Metacognition
Now wait just a minute there. Where are you going?
Don't freak out, I'm not going to get all educational on you here (well, maybe a little, but still, don't freak out).
Disclaimer out of the way? Good.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about thinking. More accurately, I've been thinking about how wondrous it is that we can even consider the concept of thought.
Don't you think that it's interesting that even with as much as we know about the human body, including the brain, we still don't fully understand how our consciousness works? Granted, we get how neurons send electrical signal, and what happens to people when there is damage to an area of the brain.
I promised you no edujargon, so I'll lay this out in a way that even I could understand:
I'm not sure.
I only know that, as a lay person, I've had an interest in the human mind for a long time (I'm sure that a parallel universe Damon is a neuroscientist of some sort). Why else would I order some Philip K. Dick and Ray Kurzweil when presented with a Barnes and Noble gift card? (Of course, my father may have had something to do with the love of SciFi with his everchanging collection of hardcovers and paperbacks. We're talking Asimov, Pohl, Heinlein, Clarke, the big hitters.)
I love curiosity. I love creativity. As far as I know, and, to the degree that we display these traits, they are exclusively human. Sure, some animals are curious, but how many of them compose blog posts on consciousness?
I'm currently reading The Element by Ken Robinson, Ph.D., and it speaks directly to the issues discussed above: how creativity and intelligence are not mutually exclusive. (note: I'm only in the third chapter of the book as of this posting. I highly recommend the book, although you may find it a bit of a slow, circular start.)
Can I tell you a quick(ish) story?
When I was in the eighth grade, I knew what I wanted to do for a living; I wanted to be a band director. Specifically, I wanted to come back to my (then future) alma mater and be the band director.
I was an adequate musician in a small school (big fish little pond), even though I didn't work hard at it.
As humbling as it is to admit, I was torn to SHREDS in my first week of music theory by one of the most brilliant musical minds I've ever met, the late Dr. Joseph Thomas. In that week, we were required to submit some music theory workbook pages on key signatures and clefs and notes and other basic theory things that everyone else knew.
I had no theory background, so I got a D- on that assignment, with some fairly strong commentary, some of which suggested I might want to consider an alternate major.
I should mention that I was at the top of my high school class academically - not to brag, just to provide context.
I had no idea what a D- even looked like in person.
Still, I had the dream of being the band director, so I buckled down and actually learned. Dr. Thomas' music theory and aural training classes were challenging but incredibly educational. For example, in the second year theory course, we were often asked to write one sentence about a particular measure in a score he would supply. The measure, or chord, or phrase, would be something pivotal to the piece and he would expect us to not only see that, but also to find a way to write about it eloquently. He was as harsh on us regarding sentence structure as he was on the content of the writing.
I remember this, because I was engaged in the course.
Sadly, I don't remember much else about my undergrad coursework, primarily because I approached those classes as a means to an end: a degree. Need the degree if you're going to go back to teach at your alma mater, right?
Wait. Why am I telling you this, when the point of this post is thinking about thinking?
I'm just reflecting on my thought processes at the time, from the standpoint of a career educator, and realizing how any of my professors (or K-12 teachers) could have engaged me in their content.
In Dr. Thomas' classes, I was required to be creative. One part of our final exam for my second year aural training exam was to select three traditional Christmas carol melodies (from memory) and supply the original harmonization as well as a reharmonization that we composed. Part writing rules apply!
Eventually, I passed my classes, did my student teaching, and earned my teaching credentials. I subbed for a couple years, taught at a small Catholic school for a couple years, and eventually ended up realizing my childhood dream; I was hired to teach at my alma mater.
I only lasted four years, before leaving for a technology professional development position at another educational entity.
Even though I came to the conclusion that teaching music at the K-12 level just wasn't for me, I still believe that music is an integral part of who I am.
I play bass and guitar for a singing group that my children are in, once in awhile I get to play some worship music at church or at work, and I write some weird electronica pieces from time to time. Writing or playing music allows my consciousness to enter Flow, and that's a good thing. If it was good enough for Einstein (Foster, 2005), probably good enough for me, right?
Likewise, education, and the process of educating others, is also a big part of me. Ask my wife, I struggle to turn off "teacher mode," regardless of my context.
However, both of these activities allow me to use my brain, and think about things, in a different way.
I charge you to let you mind wander, be creative, think big thoughts, and dream big dreams.
Will all of us be the President of the United States of America when we grow up?
Nope.
But that doesn't mean that your daydreams won't turn into something that could change the world.
Think about your thinking, in order to find ways that you are creative!
Foster, B. (2005). Einstein and his love of music. Retrieved from http://www.pha.jhu.edu/einstein/stuff/einstein&music.pdf
Kearsley, G. (2010). The Theory Into Practice Database. Retrieved from http://tip.psychology.org/meta.html
Don't freak out, I'm not going to get all educational on you here (well, maybe a little, but still, don't freak out).
Disclaimer out of the way? Good.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about thinking. More accurately, I've been thinking about how wondrous it is that we can even consider the concept of thought.
Don't you think that it's interesting that even with as much as we know about the human body, including the brain, we still don't fully understand how our consciousness works? Granted, we get how neurons send electrical signal, and what happens to people when there is damage to an area of the brain.
I promised you no edujargon, so I'll lay this out in a way that even I could understand:
"Metacognition is the process of thinking about thinking" (Kearsley, 2010).So why am I fascinated so much by our consciousness, and our ability to philosophize in general?
I'm not sure.
I only know that, as a lay person, I've had an interest in the human mind for a long time (I'm sure that a parallel universe Damon is a neuroscientist of some sort). Why else would I order some Philip K. Dick and Ray Kurzweil when presented with a Barnes and Noble gift card? (Of course, my father may have had something to do with the love of SciFi with his everchanging collection of hardcovers and paperbacks. We're talking Asimov, Pohl, Heinlein, Clarke, the big hitters.)
I love curiosity. I love creativity. As far as I know, and, to the degree that we display these traits, they are exclusively human. Sure, some animals are curious, but how many of them compose blog posts on consciousness?
I'm currently reading The Element by Ken Robinson, Ph.D., and it speaks directly to the issues discussed above: how creativity and intelligence are not mutually exclusive. (note: I'm only in the third chapter of the book as of this posting. I highly recommend the book, although you may find it a bit of a slow, circular start.)
Can I tell you a quick(ish) story?
When I was in the eighth grade, I knew what I wanted to do for a living; I wanted to be a band director. Specifically, I wanted to come back to my (then future) alma mater and be the band director.
I was an adequate musician in a small school (big fish little pond), even though I didn't work hard at it.
As humbling as it is to admit, I was torn to SHREDS in my first week of music theory by one of the most brilliant musical minds I've ever met, the late Dr. Joseph Thomas. In that week, we were required to submit some music theory workbook pages on key signatures and clefs and notes and other basic theory things that everyone else knew.
I had no theory background, so I got a D- on that assignment, with some fairly strong commentary, some of which suggested I might want to consider an alternate major.
I should mention that I was at the top of my high school class academically - not to brag, just to provide context.
I had no idea what a D- even looked like in person.
Still, I had the dream of being the band director, so I buckled down and actually learned. Dr. Thomas' music theory and aural training classes were challenging but incredibly educational. For example, in the second year theory course, we were often asked to write one sentence about a particular measure in a score he would supply. The measure, or chord, or phrase, would be something pivotal to the piece and he would expect us to not only see that, but also to find a way to write about it eloquently. He was as harsh on us regarding sentence structure as he was on the content of the writing.
I remember this, because I was engaged in the course.
Sadly, I don't remember much else about my undergrad coursework, primarily because I approached those classes as a means to an end: a degree. Need the degree if you're going to go back to teach at your alma mater, right?
Wait. Why am I telling you this, when the point of this post is thinking about thinking?
I'm just reflecting on my thought processes at the time, from the standpoint of a career educator, and realizing how any of my professors (or K-12 teachers) could have engaged me in their content.
In Dr. Thomas' classes, I was required to be creative. One part of our final exam for my second year aural training exam was to select three traditional Christmas carol melodies (from memory) and supply the original harmonization as well as a reharmonization that we composed. Part writing rules apply!
Eventually, I passed my classes, did my student teaching, and earned my teaching credentials. I subbed for a couple years, taught at a small Catholic school for a couple years, and eventually ended up realizing my childhood dream; I was hired to teach at my alma mater.
I only lasted four years, before leaving for a technology professional development position at another educational entity.
Even though I came to the conclusion that teaching music at the K-12 level just wasn't for me, I still believe that music is an integral part of who I am.
I play bass and guitar for a singing group that my children are in, once in awhile I get to play some worship music at church or at work, and I write some weird electronica pieces from time to time. Writing or playing music allows my consciousness to enter Flow, and that's a good thing. If it was good enough for Einstein (Foster, 2005), probably good enough for me, right?
Likewise, education, and the process of educating others, is also a big part of me. Ask my wife, I struggle to turn off "teacher mode," regardless of my context.
However, both of these activities allow me to use my brain, and think about things, in a different way.
I charge you to let you mind wander, be creative, think big thoughts, and dream big dreams.
Will all of us be the President of the United States of America when we grow up?
Nope.
But that doesn't mean that your daydreams won't turn into something that could change the world.
Think about your thinking, in order to find ways that you are creative!
References:
Foster, B. (2005). Einstein and his love of music. Retrieved from http://www.pha.jhu.edu/einstein/stuff/einstein&music.pdf
Kearsley, G. (2010). The Theory Into Practice Database. Retrieved from http://tip.psychology.org/meta.html
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