Finding Your Balance in Zero-G
How do you find your balance in zero gravity? Up and Down becomes meaningless, irrelevant.
My goal for this class was to find the "right" balance -
In the readings - between non-fiction and fiction, history and the present, classic authors and contemporary ones.
In the music - between old classics and new compositions; between blue-collar journeymen working a street corner or the Monday afternoon gig on Bourbon and local headliners or international stars; among Cajun, Zydeco, Jazz, Blues, Country, Brass Bands, Gospel, Funk, and Rock.
In the classroom - between discussions of the readings and reading aloud their own work; between sit-inside lectures and on-the-street experiences; between the needs of the fiction writers and the assorted other majors less comfortable with writing.
In the activities - between the music clubs (and partying) and the cultural tours and museums; between the sacred and profane; between the light-hearted and the heart-wrenching.
In the grand scheme of things - between scheduled activities and free time. (If I give them an entire afternoon off, will they just spend it getting drunk or splashing in the pool?)
And in what order should all these beautiful, conflicting, extreme sides of this complex city be presented? If we start out doing the Bourbon Street excess on the weekend when it's at it's height, will the students then have gotten their fill of that and be ready to work? If I take them on the Katrina Rebirth Tour during the first week instead of the second, will it depress them and leave a pall over all their other experiences? If I schedule a lecture during the first few days, will anybody even come, much less listen?
In N'awlins, as in Zero-G, balance is an illusion, the whole purpose of this city is to throw you off balance, to make you slip out of yourself and try a different mask on for a while.
To think there even IS a "right" balance for fourteen individuals of vastly different ages, backgrounds, experiences, cultures and interests is completely ludicrous.
In Zero-G you make little adjustments, little corrections, in the moment, as the circumstances require them. That's how I'm handling this class. Start with a plan, then make adjustments as the moment seems to demand, realizing that with this, too, a balance is needed between the students who crave a solid schedule and the ones who function better with mid-course corrections; between the ones who want to spend more time with me and the ones who can't wait to get as far away as possible.
At the end of the course, they'll each have a long list of suggestions and complaints about how the course Review their lists, looking for patterns within the comments, I'll still be wondering how many of them will realize that the majority of their comments will be the vociferous opposite of their classmate down the hall?
When balance is an illusion, you can only do what feels right, then you've got to trust that your feelings were true.
Footnote: As I finish writing this, the song "Stranger on the Shore" by Pete Fountain is playing. Is that irony, or simply appropriate? The song has served repeatedly to lift my spirits and quiet the nagging voices in my ear. I'll accept it as a gift from the loa and be glad.
My goal for this class was to find the "right" balance -
In the readings - between non-fiction and fiction, history and the present, classic authors and contemporary ones.
In the music - between old classics and new compositions; between blue-collar journeymen working a street corner or the Monday afternoon gig on Bourbon and local headliners or international stars; among Cajun, Zydeco, Jazz, Blues, Country, Brass Bands, Gospel, Funk, and Rock.
In the classroom - between discussions of the readings and reading aloud their own work; between sit-inside lectures and on-the-street experiences; between the needs of the fiction writers and the assorted other majors less comfortable with writing.
In the activities - between the music clubs (and partying) and the cultural tours and museums; between the sacred and profane; between the light-hearted and the heart-wrenching.
In the grand scheme of things - between scheduled activities and free time. (If I give them an entire afternoon off, will they just spend it getting drunk or splashing in the pool?)
And in what order should all these beautiful, conflicting, extreme sides of this complex city be presented? If we start out doing the Bourbon Street excess on the weekend when it's at it's height, will the students then have gotten their fill of that and be ready to work? If I take them on the Katrina Rebirth Tour during the first week instead of the second, will it depress them and leave a pall over all their other experiences? If I schedule a lecture during the first few days, will anybody even come, much less listen?
In N'awlins, as in Zero-G, balance is an illusion, the whole purpose of this city is to throw you off balance, to make you slip out of yourself and try a different mask on for a while.
To think there even IS a "right" balance for fourteen individuals of vastly different ages, backgrounds, experiences, cultures and interests is completely ludicrous.
In Zero-G you make little adjustments, little corrections, in the moment, as the circumstances require them. That's how I'm handling this class. Start with a plan, then make adjustments as the moment seems to demand, realizing that with this, too, a balance is needed between the students who crave a solid schedule and the ones who function better with mid-course corrections; between the ones who want to spend more time with me and the ones who can't wait to get as far away as possible.
At the end of the course, they'll each have a long list of suggestions and complaints about how the course Review their lists, looking for patterns within the comments, I'll still be wondering how many of them will realize that the majority of their comments will be the vociferous opposite of their classmate down the hall?
When balance is an illusion, you can only do what feels right, then you've got to trust that your feelings were true.
Footnote: As I finish writing this, the song "Stranger on the Shore" by Pete Fountain is playing. Is that irony, or simply appropriate? The song has served repeatedly to lift my spirits and quiet the nagging voices in my ear. I'll accept it as a gift from the loa and be glad.