What is Truth?

Our daughter’s fourth grade teacher recently became a “stone of stumbling and rock of offense” to us, giving us the gift and challenge of conflict. I don’t blame Miss Brown, although I see some facts about her behavior and think I understand the tenor of her words. Miss Brown’s life work so far has been teaching. She has many years experience and I’ve observed more good qualities in her than bad. I respect a lot about Miss Brown, and I see too that Miss Brown hasn’t been as fortunate as I, forged in the crucible of marriage and mothering. In short, I have compassion for Miss Brown because I see her struggle. But my compassion only goes so far. I am raising a daughter, here, and I see part of my role to protect my child’s spirit and personality intact.

After Miss Brown rejected the second school project in a week, I sent her an email. I like emails because they document what’s happening and our school administrators read them, too. I don’t mind having an audience for my mothering now that I’m old enough to withstand judgments, criticisms, and the unabashed awe that sometimes come my way. People don’t know what to make of me, and I like that. I don’t know what to make of myself, so I’m happy that I’m congruent.

I write notes to the teacher much as I blog. I’m sure that some teachers quail in their boots when they receive notes from me. My note to Miss Brown said in part:

Miss Brown, it’s not acceptable to us to have our child sent home with two failures in a day based on a subjective standard that is not clearly spelled out in your assignment material. “Reading the book” and “follows the rules of grammer, punctuation, and capitalization” and “spelling” are quantifiable. But “effectively accomplishes the task… as listed” and “Effectively demonstrates knowledge and understanding of the book” are subjective, especially when there is no list qualifying the child’s accomplishments. [. . .] requiring some poorly-defined, subjective standard that now has Juniper feeling the failure when she has above average intelligence and enthusiasm is simply not acceptable to us.

My husband and I would like to get some resolution and a working plan for proceeding this year. Please, let’s do that together. We would certainly welcome the involvement of any of the administration if you feel it’s necessary; otherwise, I look forward to hearing from you about our concerns.

This note resulted in an apology from Miss Brown, which read in part:

When Juniper brought her book report to me, I did not mean to make her feel like her work was being rejected.  I wanted her to finish the coloring and work some more on the summary.  She had very little on the summary of the book.  She admitted that she had rushed. 

As for the mobile, I may have been a little hard on her.  I did tell them in the directions I gave to them orally to not use all paper items.  I probably should have spent more time looking at it and discussing it with her.  I was probably too blunt.  Please excuse me.  It was a very challenging day yesterday.   I will discuss this with her today and see if I can help her some.

I considered this a good apology. Miss Brown is human and has bad days, too. She may take her bad days out on her students; any parent who thinks this doesn’t happen or is surprised about human behavior from a school teacher probably ought to examine his or her expectations about human beings.

One of the most interesting lines in the Bible, in my opinion, is when Pontius Pilate asks Jesus, “What is truth?” Reading Miss Brown’s note helped me to see that we had a problem of agreement about what was true. Miss Brown’s wrote that Juniper “admitted that she had rushed.” I personally witnessed my daughter’s work of more than an hour on her mobile. For a fourth grader, she put what I consider a great deal of time and effort into it. And yet, in the face of authority, my daughter quailed and “admitted that she had rushed.” What Miss Brown had asked was, “You rushed through this, didn’t you?” And my daughter had answered, “Yes.”

This is how the image of the false self comes to be: We see ourselves seeing ourselves, and we are who we think we are until others arise and tell us that reality isn’t what we perceive, but that reality is what they say it is. This happens in school, but it also happens in families and in the larger culture. In fact, I’ve seen it most often happen at home first, in that early seedbed of personhood, the mother-child dyad, and take root and flourish as it is nurtured by teachers, peers, professors, bosses, and later on by husbands and even children. We are always subject to the pressure of the Other. We are always at risk of abandoning ourselves in favor of others who are more powerful than we. Children are especially vulnerable.

Knowing Juniper’s childish vulnerability, I spoke with her about this, asking her what she considers a “good effort,” and what our standard has been within the family. She readily described a sustained, attentive effort of over 30 minutes as a “good effort.” When I pointed out that she had spent over an hour on her mobile, the light of comprehension came across her face; she saw at once that she had made a good enough effort. She saw, too, that only outcomes determined “good effort” in Miss Brown’s classroom. And I helped her to see the value of thinking carefully before speaking.

Miss Brown commented that in her directions she had told the children  “to not use all paper items.” She also failed Juniper’s project because it was “all paper.” But was it? No indeed, for the paper clips Juniper used were made of metal. Like many people who seek to support their own perspective at the expense of others, Miss Brown’s vision was skewed. There’s a proverb that says, “to the crooked eye, all things are crooked; but to the straight of vision, all things are straight.” Another proverb says, “one man’s case seems just until another comes and examines him.” The psychological corallary is that people see what they want, need, or expect to see, and dismiss or ignore conflicting information. As parents and pilgrims, we must learn to see clearly, and then we must help others to see clearly, too—others who are willing.

Miss Brown’s statement of fact, that the mobile had been “all paper,” was not accurate. But her statement was quite accurate at showing me some facts about Miss Brown. Her statement taught me that the teacher is a person who is willing to overlook facts to support her subjective standards. She’s willing to fail and label a child because she will not fail and label herself. When confronted with facts, Miss Brown brought out her own arsenal of facts that were not facts at all. Because her weapons of warfare were invisible, I knew that my real enemy was invisible as well. Miss Brown couldn’t see herself, and did not want to see herself. There’s nothing I can do about that, and if I continue to tussle with Miss Brown, I will lose the fight, because every power in the universe can and will be summoned to support an idealized Self, whereas the real self needs nothing but itself and God. The idealized self needs everything else.

the false versus the true self

The idealized self is very sure of itself, but not so the real self. One of my favorite Buddhist questions is, “Are you sure?” We’ve found in our family that, whenever we ask one another, “Are you sure,” very often the answer is, “No, I’m not sure.” But we catch one another acting as though we’re completely sure. And we laugh about it when we find one another out. We all do it; but it’s so lovely to have others watching our ways and helping us along.

The idealized self is judgmental because of its certainty. But passing judgment on others is a dangerous business because we so often are poor judges of anything, most especially of ourselves. This must be why Jesus instructed:

Do not judge lest you be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. And why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, “Let me take the speck out of your eye,” and behold, the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye. (Matthew 7:1-5).

asking for help

I remembered Jesus’ words the day I squared off against Miss Brown, standing there as she told me my child was the only child who had failed. I knew that I couldn’t beat Miss Brown, and that I needed the help of an administrator. So I got that help. I went to the vice principal in charge of administering such things, a mother who has a Ph.D. in education and has worked many years as an administrator. I first asked about moving Juniper to another class, which the vice principal was more than willing to do. In fact, she seemed to assume that this was my first choice, even though I clearly stated that I needed her advice and was willing to do what she thought was best. I asked her to tell me about situations in which children are moved, and situations in which they are not, and what she’s learned about moving children.

I learned a lot from the vice principal that day, but as I left I knew that she probaby assumed I wanted my child moved. I thought I’d better underscore my dedication to the Christian values we all shared, and my need for guidance via email, so when I returned home I emailed Miss Brown and the vice principal, and I said:

Miss Brown, I’m sorry our conversation about the mobiles this morning didn’t go very well. I did speak with Dr. Andrews, who will be discussing with you and the other fourth grade teacher what may work best for all of us. I rely on all of you to help us navigate the waters of fourth grade. As well, I trust God to “work all things together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose,” which is who we are.

Mostly I wanted to write and say that in general I respect you, your many years of teaching experience, and your love and dedication to your students, including Juniper. I’m confident that we can resolve this situation with good will, whether that means Juniper going to the other fourth grade class, or remaining in yours.

It’s a blessing and comfort to me that you and I do share many of the same values and we both want the best for Juniper. I see your effort and care, and will continue to hold you in high regard. I hope you’ll forgive me my maternal quirks. I have as many of them as I have children.

a decision is reached

Late that afternoon, I spoke with the vice principal when I picked up my children at school. She had met with Miss Brown, who was emotional and weepy, but they had decided to keep Juniper in her class. Miss Brown would get another chance to redeem herself, and I would have to continue to work with the teacher who told me that my child was the only child in her class who had failed.

When I returned home, I told my husband what had happened. He smiled wryly and said, “That’s not the easier outcome, is it?” We laughed, because of course it was not. It would have felt so much better to be able to direct my energy toward building a new relationship with the kinder, gentler, older other fourth grade teacher with her smiley face and her many happy students. But I had been willing to yield, and peaceable, knowing that I don’t know everything and that perhaps my daughter had landed in Miss Brown’s class for a higher purpose. If I am mindful of my daughter’s spirit, might not God help us all to grow as human beings through our conflict and differences, if we try to actively walk out our Christian faith?

I hope so. But I’ll admit that many times since last week, I’ve questioned my decision. Though I prayed and trusted God over this, I still ended up in the hands of others.

It’s funny how the hands of God are so often made of flesh and blood.