My "I's"

Some of my "eyes" on my "I's", as I think about them will clearly need some deep thinking. Some of them will probably need to be tamed at the least, and shackled in the extreme. Not because any of them are bad "I's", but they may get in the way of my more objective-I which I know I can be, but might not always be. Let me explain.

One of my "I's" is the Mommy-I. I like being a mother. I raised three children. They are grown, but just because they no longer need to be diapered doesn't mean that I have stopped wanting to care for them, love them, and protect them. I want them to make mistakes because my "intellectual-I" knows that learning from mistakes often results in growth and development, but the "Mommy-I" still wants to protect them from hurt and pain. My "Mommy-I" could very easily, if not watched turn into an "Enabling I" which doesn't really teach anything in the long run, but often feels better in the short run. So how does this "Mommy-I" affect my stance as a researcher? It depends. It depends on how much I want whoever I am studying to get hurt or to struggle. If I see a particular student struggling-- trying hard, but struggling, my "Mommy-I" might want to step in and provide help, information, too many cues or easy-way-outs because it will make his or her struggle easier. But truth be told, it might also serve to make my struggle easier. I, when ensconced in my "Mommy-I" do not want to feel any cognitive dissonance. I want to give everything I can to ease the way. Perhaps that makes me feel like a better "Mommy." So what if I give them the answer? So what if I put a smile on a face and make the struggle easier to cope with? So what if I give the solution? The problem, as my "Intellectual-I" knows, is that the best lessons are learned when they are internally driven, when the subject happens upon a solution that comes from within. It means more, and probably will be longer lasting. It is like that old adage, Give a man a fish and he eats for one meal, teach a man to fish, and he eats for a lifetime. The "Mommy-I" is a good "I" to have, it is part of who I am, but that "Mommy-I" will always have to be in the forefront of my mind, so I can watch when it steps out when it should remain in.

I have a "Therapist-I" I always felt that if I hadn't become a teacher, I could have become a therapist. Maybe it has to do with the years I spent in therapy, maybe it has to do with the fact that my beloved step mother was a therapist. My father is not a therapist, but I swear he became one through osmosis, through the 24 years he was married to my step mother, Trudy. There was always a standing joke in my house as I grew up in Woodmere, New York, and the standing joke was "There is no small talk in Woodmere." We never talked about the weather, or sports, or cars. We talked about what was making you angry, or why are you being so passive aggressive, or tell me what it is about your dreams or your relationships that cause you to do what you do. We were always talking about how our many losses impacted our lives and so on and so on. I learned through my "Therapist-I" that things aren't always what they seem, and that often to grow and learn, one must stop often to assess who one is, what is important and what one thinks. My "Therapist-I" believes in talking it out, it believes in communication, it believes that no one can really fully live if they don't face the eight or nine hundred pound gorillas that sit on shoulders. My "Therapist-I" believes that this too shall pass and that the key to growth is understanding, forgiveness, assistance, and the belief that people can and should help each other grow without judgment or value. How will this impact me as a researcher? I guess it depends on who I am working with, and what the problems are. My "Therapist-I" wants to help fix and make peace. In many ways, my "Therapist-I" is a close cousin to my "Mommy-I." I am going to have to let others stand by and struggle a bit until they come to their own awakening. It is not always easy to do. Students sometimes struggle with coming up with answers. I can see their discomfort. It would be so much easier to give it to them. I have learned to become comfortable with the uncomfortable silence. It is okay to let silent space fill the air. Not every moment has to be filled with an answer. Sometimes there is no answer--at least at that moment. My "Therapist-I" understands that it is okay to let something remain unanswered even though that "Therapist-I" sometimes is engaged in a battle with my "Mommy-I"

My "I can talk to anyone I" I can talk to anyone, at anytime, anyplace. It is exciting to me to meet different people and talk to them even if I know that I will never see them again. My immediate-I loves that. It is an opportunity I must take because if I pass that opportunity up, I might miss something wonderful. I might learn something that will affect my life. I might learn something that will make me see the world in a different fashion, I may be inspired to do things I never thought possible, and I may have the chance to give something to someone else. It goes right along with my "Teacher-I" and how moved I always am when past students come back to visit or remind of something that I did or said that impacted them. It never fails to warm my heart and it still surprises me when that happens. I am always amazed at how much I affected someone. I always hope that to be the case as a teacher, but am still astounded at it when it does happen--especially when the things the students remember are not those things that I thought would have ever had such an effect. Those teachable moments. The "I can talk to anyone I" opens the world for ideas and opinions. I feel a deep kinship to the character, Nan, in Elizabeth Berg's book The Pull of the Moon." Nan, who takes a road trip away from her husband and meets people, encounters ideas and learns about herself in a way that she never could have done in her husband's presence. The "Freedom-I" which I guess is another I for later. But the "I can talk to anyone I" has its issues. Opening yourself up to others, and learning about things you did not know existed can make you vulnerable. It might make you question your own lived-life. It might make you feel that your own life is not as exciting as someone else's. You might begin to feel dissatisfied. That could be scary, but I keep that in check, because my "I can talk to anyone I" believes it is worth the risk and that vulnerability is not to be feared. It is to be embraced as used as a launching pad for deeper and stronger growth. How will this "I" affect me as a researcher? I suppose I will have to limit the number of people I can talk to. The truth is that I can't talk to everyone during whatever research I do, I will have to be selective. Talking to everyone will take me off task, a problem that I have in general. I frequently have to remind myself to limit and to focus. It affects me in many ways--especially in my writing. I am a journal keeper, I am a great stream of consciousness writer. I let my mind go and my words follow. It leads to some wonderful poetry, and some intense personal narrative pieces, but doesn't often serve me well in more focused writing. It is a good thing I am a true believer in the writing process and in revision. I revise a lot as my writing progresses to make sure that what I say stays on track and doesn't wander to Tibet when I have to stay in New York. So I am going to have to be careful with the "I can talk to anyone I" to make sure that those I talk to are purposeful, meaningful and pertinent to my goal. The others will have to wait for another conversation.

"The Teacher-I" This is a big I. It occupies most of my waking hours, even my sleeping hours especially in August when the proverbial teacher dreams occur. You know those dreams: You get to school, but don't know where to go and you are late. You get to school and you forget everything. You get up to go to school, but you realize school started two weeks ago and you weren't there. My "Teacher-I" is evolving into a more democratic form. I do not believe that I know it all, I am not afraid of my students. I now look to them to learn myself. If I make a mistake or don't know something, I can be the honest-teacher and say I do not know- help me. This is a good type of teacher to be because it takes the stress off. When I used to feel I had to know everything because I would appear weak if I did not, I became more guarded and not as free to teach. I was, in a sense, more afraid of them than they were of me and I think fear needs to be taken out of the classroom. An addendum to the Teacher-I is the "I also have a life I" I share my lived-world with my students. I make myself more real, more reachable, more authentic. Yes, students, I do go shopping and I do buy milk. I live in the same town that I work in, a small town, and the look on student faces when they see me in the grocery store is often a cross between shock and awe. I now ask them "Hey, which cereal should I buy?" They inevitably give me advice, and then ask if I liked it on Monday. My "Teacher-I" and my "I also have a life I" builds community. I love this "I" but understand its pitfalls- Boundaries. I like a good story and can tell a good story, but this "I" needs boundaries. I have to separate my "Teacher-I with the I also have a life I" sometimes to maintain my professionalism and distance. I have learned to tell parents that I can not have a teacher conference in the milk aisle. I can not discuss your child's socializing in class in the middle of the cereal aisle. This boundary issue is an issue that I am sure will come to greet me in research. I will have to make sure my objectivity stays objective, and that my work stays my work, and does not bleed into friend-time or acquaintance-time. It is an "I" that must be monitored.

I have other "I's" but they are going to have to wait until later because right now "I" (the individual, the person) have other things to do--like grade papers. Until later, this real "I" is signing off.

Back again with another I. I discovered that I have a Passionate-I. I love what I do and when I get excited about something, it shows. Everything, from when I find a great dessert I like to cook, to the shoes I buy--When I love something, it is clearly out there. I think passion is a great motivator. It is infectious, like a 'good' disease. I mentioned in a post about a class I had in school about on-line learning that my passion was so strong about what might occur in the classroom that I fell off a desk I was sitting on. It was great. (The embarrassment not so great, but who cares because the passion was so evident) What I became aware of though is that as researcher, the Passionate-I could affect me. I became aware that my Passionate-I has to remain my I. I don't mind if it is seen, but I have to be very careful that my passion does not intimidate others. I have to be careful that my passion does not lead someone else into behaviors or comments or expressed thoughts that are being given to make me like them more or react more favorably. I do not want my passion to stimulate false passion in others. You do not have to be passionate about the same things I am, but I also understand that if one is passionate, hopefully it will trigger someone else to be passionate about-something. And it is through that hope that I think my Passionate-I should exist.