Preschool Weekly Meditation Archive

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.D., Executive Director

The April 22nd edition of The New York Times carried a very sobering article about our highly-connected world. Writing on the topic, “The Flight from Conversation,” M.I.T. psychologist Sherry Turkle addressed the irony of how, in a culture where we are always communicating and constantly are connected, we are actually spending more time hiding from each other, being alone together, and keeping each other at bay. The big casualty, in her view, is the activity of conversation, where we truly tend to one another and see things from another person’s perspective. Today, in her words, “We expect more from technology and less from one another,” with no time for the patience, self-reflection, and slower pace that real conversation requires. This means that not only have our hand-held devices altered what we do, but actually who we are.

Turkle’s remedies include the introduction of “device-free zones,” be it at home, work, or school (something she ironically calls, “sacred space”). The other suggestion she offers is that we adults intentionally model real conversation to our children.

As I thought about her suggestions, particularly that latter one, I thought, “Have we come to this, that we actually need to model real conversation to our children or our students?” While I do not agree with the fullness of Turkle’s rather dismal diagnosis, I think there is real merit in the activity of modeling conversation. At some level, I think we collectively understand what is at stake, for as much as conversation is up for grabs in our highly-connected world, the national discourse at so many levels contains more references to the notion of having conversations on difficult issues as at any time in the past. We can tell what is missing by the many references to its importance as a solution.

Springtime in the life of a school is a period where any number of important conversations need to take place, but often do not for sheer lack of time. As we begin to bring closure to a busy school year, what things need to be both said and heard—reflecting the two-way nature of conversation—that have not yet taken place, be it between two people or within our school community? What conversations need to occur that will help bring the year to an appropriate conclusion, as opposed to leaving things dangling in the rush to the finish?

No matter how connected we are, there is no substitute for real conversation. Perhaps we do need as adults to model this more intentionally for the sake of our students, particularly during the time of year when—as difficult as it can be—it is most needed.

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.D.

In case you have not yet noticed, there is a lot of writing going on these days about introverts. Lately, however, the tone of the writing is very different: it is not about introverts being “a problem,” but about the actual advantages of introversion, even in the midst of what is a highly extroverted culture. As one writer describes them, “Introverts….are oriented toward the inner life of thought; they tend to be reserved and cautious. They find social interactions draining, and they need solitude to recharge. It’s not that introverts are antisocial as much as they appreciate fewer, more intimate friendships. They don’t like small talk but appreciate deeper discussions.”*

Of late I have been reading Susan Cain’s book on the subject, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. She has some very interesting things to say about how introverts can actually be effective leaders (I recall one search consultant saying that some of the best school heads are introverts that have learned how to do extroverted things), as well as talks of how the culture embodies extroversion to such a degree that it can make natural introverts (like me!) wince and retreat!

One of the things she alludes to but does not explicate in greater depth is the way in which our educational system is developing in such a way that it is not hospitable to introverts. To be sure, all introverts need to learn how to contribute to a classroom discussion, work in teams, and deal with the extroverts in their lives. But as we think about students we worry about—ie., those who are not participating in class, or seem shy or withdrawn at times—are we judging them by extroverted standards?

An optimal learning experience is one in which both introverts and extroverts (and everyone in between!) can both feel at home as well as be able to work with those who project themselves differently. But is our teaching and learning tilted more toward extroversion than introversion? One of the ways that I have always attempted to make room for introverts in the conversation is—whether in leading a classroom discussion or working with a group of people—to ask a question and let the question linger, should no one immediately spring to answer it. There is uncomfortable silence for some, but not for all. In fact, it can be a small way to make room for the introvert—a group of people for whom the opportunity for reflection is so often welcome, not to mention uncommon!

*William Pannapacker, “Screening Out the Introverts,” The Chronicle of Higher Education (April 20, 2012), p. A27.

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.D., Executive Director

Two weeks ago I had the privilege of speaking with the board of trustees of Canterbury School in Greensboro, NC, on the subject of Episcopal identity. There I was fortunate enough to see once again the Rev. Russell Ingersoll, former head of Christ School in Arden, NC, and now a member of the Canterbury board. Over the years I have regarded Russ as one of the real pillars of Episcopal schools, embodying so much of what they stand for and can be.

During the meeting I was reminded of why I regard him as such a model. As we discussed a board’s awareness of the Episcopal dimension of the school’s mission, Russ made a remarkable comment. “God’s inclusiveness is larger than our own inclusiveness,” he observed.

On one level, I thought about the fact that, “At what other type of board meeting would one be gifted with such an observation?” Beyond that, however, Russ’ comment was one of those worth not only pondering, but returning to, again and again.

For many people in our culture, the opposite of what he said is assumed. God represents less inclusivity than what we humans can possess. God represents the narrow way, the exclusionary way, the way of religion, as opposed to the openness of spirituality or a secular world-view. We enlightened human beings are supposedly moving beyond the narrowness of the God of religion. However the reverse is actually the case. Throughout the pages of the Bible, God is pushing people to more inclusivity, not less. God is the one, for example, who declares Cyrus, King of Persia, to be God’s instrument for the liberation from exile. It is also Jesus who breaks beyond the restrictiveness of social or religious norms at the time and ministers to so many at the margins, bringing the whole world to himself.

We human beings may well have made some progress in our understanding of inclusivity, but it is God who challenges us to ever widening circles of care and openness to difference. We still have much to learn about our own limitations when it comes to accepting other peoples and groups. Fortunately, not only is God there to teach us what we have yet to learn, it is the very nature of God is to be inclusive.

That means that Episcopal schools are in an enviable position when it comes to being more inclusive, given the fact that we can talk about God and can spend time discerning what God is wanting from us. We possess a deep theological reason for wanting to be more inclusive.

A true reversal of what we might have thought to be the case! Imagine that, and it all stemmed from a school board meeting!

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.D., Executive Director

I’ve been reviewing a curriculum on financial literacy for middle school students, put out by the Seifert Foundation, and I was struck in looking at it by the poignant question asked of students in the very first session: “Do you feel pressed for time?”

I think it is fair to say that, in almost all of our schools today, the hands of most of our students would go up quickly in the affirmative. One of the concerns I hear most often, in my visits to schools throughout the country, has to do with the tight, highly structured schedules that most students—of all ages—live with, a schedule that is bound to rob them of some sense of imagination, spontaneity, and the sheer opportunity to enjoy life. That is the story of our time—it is something we frantically seek to manage as it presses upon us.

At first, the events of Holy Week, into which we now find ourselves, may seem a long way away from the “pressed for time” lives of our students (and, dare we add, their teachers and parents?). But these days are not meant just to be seen as memories that evoke “back when,” a time long ago. They are meant in some way to be re-lived. That is what the Greek word,anamnesis, is all about: we do not simply recall something, we experience it all over again. God’s time suddenly leaps over the centuries and presents itself to us anew. Just as we can re-live experiences we have had in the past with the same emotional intensity we encountered in the original event, Holy Week is about re-living Jesus’ last days. All of a sudden they become new to us.

Time turns out to be something we are not simply pressed for, but something that impresses upon us. We have a rare opportunity this week: to enter into God’s time.

The Rev. Daniel R. Heischman, D.D., Executive Director

“More than any other firm on Wall Street, Goldman Sachs forged a set of shared values and beliefs.” (Charles D. Ellis, The Partnership: The Making of Goldman Sachs, New York 2008).

Wednesday’s op-ed page of The New York Times featured a piece that has caused quite a stir in the investment banking world*.  An employee of Goldman-Sachs for twelve years wrote about why he was leaving the firm that very day.  In essence, it had to do with what he observed as the change of culture at the firm.  That notion of culture, he maintained, was always a mainstay of the way the firm worked: teamwork, integrity, humility, and doing right by their clients.  “This,” he explained, “was the secret sauce that made this place great.”  Now, he concluded, it is all about making money, frequently at the expense of the client.

The reaction to the article has been strong and swift.  Some have maintained that these are the parting words of a disgruntled employee; others speculate on how he ever got the idea that there was any degree of “moral fiber” to this business in the first place. Others echo his concern about how things have changed, not only in the investment banking world but in so many other venues.

Culture, as defined in the book mentioned above, is, “the commitment to shared values,” and, likewise, “the glue that holds the firm together.”  Proudly, we pay a good deal of attention in our schools to the culture of the community, and the shared values that serve as our respective glues.  Regardless of the motivation and circumstances behind this particular challenge to an institution known for its attention to culture, the writer of this week’s article does remind us of the perennial challenge when it comes to describing our school culture and promoting our core values: it is one thing to define them for the benefit of identity and marketing; it is another thing, on a regular basis, to check out with our community whether or not we are actually living out those values.  If we do not engage in the latter activity, we may well find ourselves surprised one day to learn that the culture we thought was in place is no longer there!