Father John Series #2

Chapter 2

Context of Chapter Two

This chapter is autobiographical. It is about my failure to respect the profound difference between the role of learner and the role of teacher. I have not spent much of my professional life as a teacher. Consequently, later in my career, when I was given the opportunity to teach I was poorly prepared. This story reflects some of what I learned.

            It is also about the importance of getting your own ego out of the way, if one assumes the third position. The politically correctness in academia makes the role of teacher more difficult. The focus needs to be on the student and what they are learning, not on the teacher.

Father John: Playing with Three Positions

Father John has been consulting with Bob Newbrough weekly for some time now. Today he comes into Bob’s office and plops down in the one chair that isn’t stacked high with files, papers and books.

            “Academic life must be hell,” he begins.

            “What do you mean?” Bob asked.

            “I was asked to team teach a class in liberation theology at a local conservative Christian seminary,” Father John said. “There was me, Gene Franklin and Sally Foster. I agreed to do this because I hoped to recruit some pastoral interns to help with my ministry in this Hispanic community. Gene is the class professor of record. Sally is a visiting professor from England. Gene agreed that he would devote some of the class sessions to me to present my ideas and my project.”

            “How many class periods were there?” Bob asked.

            “We met every Wednesday afternoon for three hours,” Father John answered. “Let’s see, that amounts to fourteen Wednesdays I think, but I’m not sure. Anyway three weeks ago was the next to last meeting. At that meeting I was supposed to present some of my ideas and projects that I thought might interest them. Every week we meet prior to the class to prepare for the next class. At that planning meeting just prior to my presentation, Gene told me that some of the students didn’t like me. Well I know I’m a jerk. Apparently some of the students thought so too. They didn’t want Gene to give this time to me. They wanted to present the movie Motorcycle Diaries instead and discuss that.”

            “So what did you say to Gene?” Bob wondered.

            “I told him that I could handle hostile students. I reminded him that in my last lecture three students came after me and I acquitted myself quite well. And he concurred that I did handle them with dispatch and my presentation went well. So I said if that happens, I am fast on my feet. And I reminded him that he promised, that I had put in all this time for free all semester six hours a week plus reading, gratis.

            “Gene warned me that I was viewed by some as unsophisticated. These students aspire to be professors or pastors of high steeple, frontline churches. They saw me as a passé hippie. They were not sure I had anything relevant to say to them.

            “What did you say to that?” Bob asked.

            “I told him that I only wanted a few students,” Father John said. “Three would be great. There were twenty in the class and I thought I might interest a few in my project and that was all I needed. The next day I went to class early. I set up for my lecture. I handed out my materials. The class gathered on time.

            “I took my place at the front of the class. Attendance at this class was on the light side. As I looked at my audience, I saw several disinterested faces. Gene and Sally and a few other students seemed ready to listen to me.

            “I began. I got through my introductory remarks when Carol’s hand went up. I like Carol. She is always cheerful and easy to talk to. I never identified her with the element in the class that didn’t seem to like me.

            ‘Carol, you have a question,’ I said.

            ‘Not so much a question but a comment,’ she said. ‘I don’t like this. Here you are standing there lecturing to us. You are another male authority telling us students what to think. I feel assaulted. This mode of learning is patronizing and insulting. This isn’t how I want to learn. I want to be respected. I’m not interested in what you have to say.’

            “Then came another voice from another face. I don’t remember who. All I remember was their words began with, ‘I agree. I don’t want to listen to a Pope worshipper wearing a sack robe and sandals.’ I stood there silent watching as at least half of the class joined in the rebellion. I had no defense. I could think of nothing to say. I was surprised that my usual quick mind was empty.

            “Finally one of the students said, ‘Let him talk. Why are you shutting him down? Every class period so far has been a lecture, followed by discussion. Why can’t we be open to what Father John has to say?’

            “‘Because he is the enemy,’ someone said, ‘He represents the Catholic Church. He worships Mary not Jesus. He obeys a Pope – not a God.’

            “I was still at a loss for words. As the students continued the debate for the rest of the class, I found a seat off to the side. After the shock wore off, I was hurt. I was embarrassed. I was so disappointed in myself. What happened to my ability to think on my feet? What happened to the compelling nature of my ideas? What happened to my sense of humor? Where was whatever charm I have? As I think about it, this class rebellion seemed staged. The words they used about Mary and the Pope didn’t sound like real talk. I was lost.

            “Yeah, I know I can take an arrogant pose, but generally I think people are entertained by what I have to say. My ideas may be provocative and stimulate debate, but I had thought they were at least worth hearing.

            “Last week, the last class period, was spent as an attempt to salvage the whole semester. A respected emeritus professor presided over the debriefing of the student’s experience in the class. Much of the focus was on me and what I was doing there, how I was perceived and how I behaved. There were some apologies and there were some continued attacks. My wounds were still fresh. I tried to offer an apology, but I was not sure for what. I am not clear on what my contribution to this disaster was.

            “This was such a disaster. I will never try to teach in a graduate school again. But I need to know what happened. What did I do to deserve this? How can this happen in a place that is supposed to represent the free exchange of ideas? Why were my ideas not worthy of consideration?”

            “Your wounds are still fresh. I can tell,” Bob said.

            “Yes they are,” Father John said.

            “Sometimes the seeds of a community’s problems can be found in the first meeting,” Bob said. “And remember a class is a community too.”

            “Everything is a community to you,” Father John said.

            “Today’s academic world is dangerous,” Bob said. “If you are not politically correct in some form or other you can be banished. It is different than it was ten years ago when you went to seminary.”

            “I’m not sure the Catholic system has changed that much,” Father John said.

            “The private university world has changed a lot,” Bob said. “Now tell me about your first class meeting.”

            “I think I began the class a little insecure,” Father John said. “I’m not well read. I haven’t read Foucault and I don’t know what modernism and post-modernism is and I don’t understand what quantum physics has to do with God. I chose not to sit with Gene and Sally at the head of the class. Gene had each student say why they took the class and what they wanted to learn. Instead of opting out of answering that question I took my turn like any other student. Gene had not introduced me as a teacher. So I introduced myself. My comments were flip and challenging. It felt like I was in graduate school again trying to prove I was smart enough to belong there. I think I might have said as a joke, ‘I am the only one here who seems to understand that faith requires sacrifice. I try to live out my values to fight this materialistic culture. I’m here to see if I can recruit any of you to join me, to sell your cars, get some sandals, and join Christ’s army. Now I can see that no one thought it was funny.’

            “After the introductions Gene and Sally took the lead on organizing the presentations for the rest of the semester. Gene told the class I would have the role of commentator. I would listen to the class presentation and discussion and comment at the end on how these ideas might be put into practice in a parish setting.”

            “What did you do with your role?” Bob wondered. “Did you continue to try to prove yourself?”

            “Umm, this seems to be a set up,” Father John said, “Yes, I think I continued to use my role to prove myself. I looked down on the theoretical discussion. I told them I thought a lot of their ideas had no practical value, that they were mentally masturbating.”

            “I’m sure that went over well,” Bob said.

            “Well it was the truth,” Father John said.

            “Did Sally and Gene tell this kind of truth?” Bob wondered.

            “No,” Father John replied. “They seemed to be afraid of the students. It was like they had to ask their permission for what to present in each class. They did a lot of reflecting, making what seemed like stupid ideas into interesting and relevant comments. Instead of teaching and challenging students, they created forums for the students to express their, often trite, stupid and trivial ideas. When I was a student we had no input into what the next class would be about. For Sally and Gene every class was negotiable. I thought they were giving up their responsibility to see that the students developed the skills appropriate for their future roles as pastors.”

            “Gene and Sally were acting like many graduate school professors do now,” Bob said. “Today it is the norm that students be taught what they want to learn. They are active participants in planning the courses. Students become collaborators in choosing the course topics. Gene and Sally were negotiating their course, class by class.”

            “Yes they were,” Father John said. “But they never explained that to me. If that was true, how could they promise me three class periods?”

            “Good question,” Bob said. “Perhaps that was a mistake. With this negotiating the class philosophy I can see they made another mistake.”

            “What was that?”

            “They invited you to play,” Bob said, “without asking the students if they wanted you to play. They gave you a role that you were particularly not suited for.”

            “I didn’t think I had the background for any other role. In my role as parish priest I practice the ideas they preach. Why wasn’t I prepared for that role of commenting on how the ideas are supposed to be practically applied in the parish?”

            “Because you have not evolved from student to teacher yet,” Bob said. “As a student you are trying to prove yourself. So you put your ideas out there. You expose yourself. You compete for attention and for praise.”

            “So?” Father John said.

            “Well as a teacher you do the opposite,” Bob said. “Good teachers are like a good parish priest. They tend their flocks. Nurture and safety is primary. You never ask a lamb to jump a chasm that is too wide. You have to structure the challenges for your students or your parishioners that is within the possible. And your parishioners or students must trust you, not fear you. If they trust you, they will follow and accept your challenges. If they fear you, they will find a way to escape your authority.”

            “Oh,” Father John said. “You got me right between the eyes. I see now I began my failure in the very first class. Instead of listening first and receiving them I was pushing myself at them, competing with them for space. I would never do that in my parish. There I listen. I care. I offer help. I visit my people when they are sick. Most of what I do is simply be there for them. In that class I was criticizing more than I was understanding and caring. Gene and Sally were taking care of their sheep. I was attacking them. How embarrassing.”

            “Well Gene and Sally made some mistakes too,” Bob said. “They didn’t have you sit at the head of the table with them. They didn’t introduce you to the students. They never explained to them what you had to contribute to the class experience. They let you take the role of critic and the students were not safe enough with you to allow you that role.”

            “And I was still trying to prove myself at their expense,” Father John interrupted.

            “Yes, that’s true,” Bob said, “but the journey from graduate student to competent teacher took me years, as well. It is not as easy transition and you didn’t have a clue what the role of teacher required. You thought it is an output role, telling others how to think. It is not. Teaching is a receiving role, hearing, understanding, and using praise to shape students much more often than criticism. Gene and Sally should have helped prepare you so that your comments found good in the class discussion instead of bad.”

            “I never expected to hit such resistance,” Father John said.

            “And that’s another problem,” Bob said.

            “What’s that?” Father John asked.

            “Students were your currency,” Bob answered.

            “What do you mean students were my currency?”

            “Every community survives on trades,” Bob said. “Your trade with Sally and Gene was for students in return for your participation in the class.”“Yes,” Father John acknowledged.

            “That was an unrealistic trade.”

            “Why is that?”

            “Are you an adjunct faculty member?”

            “No,” Father John said. “I was going to be. Gene proposed that I be in a faculty meeting, but some faculty members didn’t want me to have the power to grade or teach because they were afraid I might attract students to my project. So they voted to offer me (and the two others proposed along with me) the status of friend of the faculty, which meant that students would get no academic credit for working with me.”

            “That’s my point,” Bob said. “Students are a precious commodity. The paid faculty want the students free labor for their research and their projects. Can you imagine how insulting, threatening and intrusive you must have seemed to other faculty members who are not working with a real parish organizing a community? You are offering an opportunity to do interesting and potentially exciting work. The faculty would not be happy to have you steal their students.”

            “So I never had a chance with those students. Did I?” Father John said.

            “No, you had no chance,” Bob said. “The systemic infrastructure was stacked against you. Students get paid with academic credits. They want to curry favor with the people who grade them. Why would they waste their time with you when their primary goal is to graduate?”

            “Yeah, why would they?” Father John agreed. “So I began with extremely grandiose expectations. There was no seat at the academic table for me, was there?”’

            “No,” Bob concurred.

            “How does this relate to the third position?” Father John wondered.

            “This reminds me of Vivian Paley’s book You Can’t Say You Can’t Play,” Bob said. “Do you know it?”

            “No,” Father John replied.

            “One day she observed two boys playing,” Bob said, “and a third boy who wanted to join in. The two boys playing told the other boy ‘no you can’t play.’ When she saw the hurt in the rejected boy’s eyes, she decided to make a rule ‘you can’t say you can’t play.’ That phrase became the name of her well-known book by the same name. You Can’t Say You Can’t Play describes how she implemented this new rule. In her classroom no one was banished from the field of play. Her classroom was her community. This community was required to find a role for all would-be players. Ms. Paley’s experiment was successful. Her students learned to negotiate roles, to disagree and continue their discussion. They found a way to accommodate one another. She served the role of the third position. Her rule, ‘you can’t say you can’t play’ became a link and a containment force. The children learned to create their own third position since they often had to find a role for a third player.”

            “But she can’t let just anyone off the street come in and play with the children,” Father John challenged.

            “No,” Bob agreed.

            “Well perhaps I’m not qualified to play,” Father John said. “I haven’t made the transition from critical graduate student to nurturing teacher. And the faculty sees me as a threat.”

            “Yes,” Bob said. “The two boys saw the third boy as a threat as well. That doesn’t mean he really was. Certainly if the divinity school’s goal is to provide learning and growing challenges to their students, you are not a threat. I think the school should make a place at the academic table for people like you. The faculty needs to define a place for practitioners. The program should include a partnership between practitioners and the university. Here are the three positions. The teacher, the student and the practitioner. In your case some of the teachers and students effectively told you that you couldn’t play. I think in any community we need at least three positions, certainly in a learning community.”

            “But what about my critical competitive attitude?” Father John wondered.

            “If they would let you work with the students,” Bob said, “the students would help you find your place in time. Learning to be a good teacher requires practice, like anything else. The divinity school should have patience with you.”

            “Right now,” Father John said. “I don’t think I have patience for them either.”

            “I understand,” Bob said.

            They sat silently for a time. Then Father John asked, “If this class had gone well what would it have looked like?”

            “Well you had the role of the third position,” Bob began. “But you did not have it legitimately. The faculty gave you no standing. The students had no say in you taking any role. You were not properly introduced. The third position requires that the other two positions have respect for you too.”

            “And I behaved like a jerk,” Father John added.

            “That too,” Bob said. “But assume that you were properly and legitimately given this third seat at the table. You would have helped students see that these ideas that they were discussing were useful. You would have helped the teachers see where their ideas led to action.”

            “So the three positions would have been one in the applied role of the practitioner,” Father John said, “Gene and Sally in the role of the teachers and the students were in the learner, active participant role. Those are our ideal three positions. Right?”

            “Yes,” Bob agreed.

            “But instead of connecting teacher to student,” Father John said. “I embarrassed Gene and Sally and alienated the students from me.”

            “Yes, perhaps that’s what happened,” Bob acknowledged. “When you should have been searching for the practical strengths of the ideas of the teacher and students so they could have hope and confidence that one day the students could put what they were learning to work. For example, you might have followed a lecture on like nature of a human community with a suggestion that ministers need to call a parishioner who has a question or a comment. Such phone calls help solidify the network in the Church and help place the minister in an important central position in that network.”

            “I could have done that,” Father John said.

            “See, you aren’t beyond repair,” Bob said. “There’s hope for you yet. The role of the third position doesn’t have to be always affirming, but the third position has to be at least neutral. Someone in this role might be critical of one or both of the other two sides, but they must not be seen as having an agenda of their own. You had an agenda. First it was to prove yourself. Then it was to recruit students. The other two positions in your classroom community could smell you coming from a mile away. Your ego was at risk. The two other positions have too much of their egos at stake to have to deal with yours. When they should be able trust that you have no dog in the fight, you did. They knew it and they didn’t let you ever have the third position,”

            “But was there a place for a third position,” Father John asked, “If I had played it well?”

            “Perhaps,” Bob answered, “but in your circumstances you would have had to play the third position perfectly. There was no room for error. And all the players in your story failed to play their roles well.”“But there was a place for a third position,” Father John insisted.

            “Yes, ideally,” Bob said, “I think every community needs this role and they need talented people to play it. This is what I think you do for your parish. It is what a judge does in a courtroom. It is what the police should do in a conflict between neighbors. It is what a family therapist does with a family. It is what a nurse does in a hospital.”

            “The two positions are obvious, but often the third position isn’t,” Father John said. “It is easy to ignore the nurse, for example.”

            “Yes,” Bob agreed. “Our minds work so that when we see one thing we naturally contrast it with its opposite.”

            “This is what makes a debate,” Father John said, “I can hear someone make a case for say ‘let’s play soccer tomorrow’ and my mind immediately begins to think why that is not a good idea.”

            “Yes, we all think that way,” Bob agreed. “We especially think that way in an emergency.”

            “Oh I see that’s why political leaders try to use fear as a tool to convince voters to give them a mandate,” Father John said, “They pose as the hero and portray their opponent as the villain and the voter must act now or the damsel in distress tied to the railroad track will be run over by a train.”

            “Have you ever seen the movie, The Tail Wags the Dog?” Bob asked.

            “No, I haven’t,” Father John, answered.

            “In that movie,” Bob said, “the president was losing popularity in the polls so he declared war to shore up his political popularity and win the election.”

            “I see,” Father John said. “This is what happened with Michael Moore and the Dixie Chicks after 9/11.”

            “What are you talking about?” Bob asked.

            “9/11 triggered our collective fight/flight response. We stopped our individual thinking and we united in fight mode behind our leaders. So when Michael Moore at the 2003 Oscars criticized the war he was booed from the stage. Or when Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks publicly criticized President Bush, radio stations stopped playing their music. In an emergency there is only good vs. evil. Dissent is not tolerated. There was no room for a third position.”

            “That’s right,” Bob said. “Third position thinking doesn’t occur in such red-alert, fight or flight moments.”

            “So what do we do?” Father John asked.

            “We should not let our leaders define the conversation or the decision as a critical emergency,” Bob said. “Most of the time there is time for deliberation. Fear and rage end the discussion. We have to redefine the problem so that it is not an emergency. Then we create three positions and let the three positions work to find a solution. The New Zealand Maori Aborigines have a custom they call ‘going to the long hall’ when important decisions have to be made. Tribal members take their blankets and food and retire to the building they call the ‘long hall’ to talk. The object is to come from the long hall with a decision everybody agrees with. It may take days, but no one can leave the long hall until all agree.”

            “But we can’t do that,” Father John said, “We would never get everybody to agree.”

            “The point is we don’t believe we have the time, when we do,” Bob said. “But you are right. Third position thinking cannot happen in the context of a belief that circumstances are threatening and dangerous. Third position thinking requires safety, faith, openness and patience.”

            “Is there any debate where you find yourself in one of two opposing positions and you think you are right,” Father John asked. “Is there any theoretical question where you, Bob Newbrough, cannot find a third position?”

            “Yes,” Bob said. “As a matter of fact there is.”

            “What’s the subject?” Father John said.

            “It’s about how to create social change,” Bob said. “So far community psychology typically conceptualizes only two positions.”

            “What are they?” Father John asked.

            “One is change by revolution or war,” Bob said. “President Bush called it Regime Change. Some community psychologists use the term social action to mean the same thing. In this way of causing change the means justify the ends. It is change at all costs. It assumes no basis for cooperation or trust. Revolution tears things down. It uses chaos and conflict to make matters worse, so that things must change. It assumes that someone must lose; that power cannot be shared. The object is to win. Power is a zero sum game. There is no room for a third position.”

            “What is the other form of change?” Father John asked.

            “It is evolutionary change or cooperative change,” Bob said. “It is community development. This is a cooperative consensus building approach. Decision making includes many points of view. Differences create resources for a community. Evolution takes time. Patience is required. Trust is taken for granted. Power returns when you give it away. Win/win solutions are the goal.”

            “So let me guess where you stand,” Father John said.

            “Yeah, I am committed to evolutionary change,” Bob said. “I’m blind to a third position. I am angry and I’m defensive about my position. I know I’m wrong. There must be a third position. I should be able to find one here, but I can’t.”

            “So even you sometimes need help finding a third position?” Father John asked.

            “Yes,” Bob said, “I need help too. Are you going to teach again?”

            “I don’t know,” Father John said. “I would need a lot of help if I did.”