The Anne Frank complex

I've done OK with my resolution. Skipped a couple days, but those days were spent outside skiing and snowshoeing, so I'll forgive myself. (Because my other resolution is no guilt, remember?)

I continue to find it odd that in my given religion's theology, guilt is supposed to be absent, or at least easily removed, from the Christian's life. "Accept Jesus," they say, and your guilt is washed away. If you feel guilty, there is probably something wrong with your "relationship to God." (That tends to be the diagnosis for many things that ail me, but I'm calling bullshit.)

Not that said relationship is perfect, but I'm not sure any human can make such a claim. I have had an easier time letting go of guilt by making a silly new year's resolution than I did in 24-odd years of being a Christian. I also don't recall many sermons convincing me to let go of guilt. It seemed to be the driving force behind the growth of most churches. Guilt brings people in the doors, money in the plates, teachers in the Sunday School classrooms. Other motivations are there, sure, but I know guilt and fear drove many of my decisions, despite the good intentions of the pastors and teachers.

Fear of shame, especially. I've since realized that most Christians outside the Bible Belt (and many within it, thankfully) don't function this way. They are good people, doing their best to live how they believe they should live. This is often based on a literal interpretation of scripture, but with the exception of the treatment of women and homosexuals, and issues like capital punishment and sex, that's a pretty moral and good life. I find that my Anne Frank syndrome follows me wherever I go. It quite literally followed me to Boise, where her words are engraved in stone by the river:




It reads, "In spite of everything, I still believe that people are truly good at heart."

I try to live as if this is true, because it usually is. It may sound (or truly be) naive, but to assume good intentions saves me a hell of a lot of stress and worry. I could only hope that my belief would stay intact if I had lived through what Anne did. 

Assuming that even people who do hateful things are good people at heart helps me approach them with grace and not anger or judgment. 

I do not feel ready to go back to work in less than a week. I have almost totally disengaged other than finally checking my (full) email inbox. I wrote a letter of recommendation today. I got an email requesting sample assignments, and I just flagged it. I can't go into those folders yet. I know I need to organize them. I'm terrified that I will arrive on Monday morning and quickly feel just as overwhelmed as I did the last day of last semester. I will have to fight the guilt for not working over break. I will have to fight my tendency to reinvent everything. It's boring to keep doing the same things all the time (or, in my case, to even do the same thing the same way twice). I'm forever revising. This semester, though, I should stick with what works, and focus my creativity on the bigger, longer-term projects I'm responsible for, like revamping the whole remedial English program.  

I'm teaching 19 credits this spring. I'm crazy, it's true. 16 of those are 4-credit basic writing classes. The 4th credit is supposed to be for time spent on grammar, but I often joke that it's really the energy it takes to teach these classes. Grammar's the easy part. I can make no assumptions with my students. I face them each semester and remember that they feel like I feel when I try to learn how to dance or play the mandolin. I just want to sit and watch, and not try and fail. I have to convince them each week that it's worth it to try. That they can learn. It takes grand amounts of energy and patience, but it's energy and patience I have to give.

Most of my students believe intelligence is fixed--that they're just dumb or bad writers. I spend the first week using science (and my own enthusiasm) to convince them otherwise. If all I teach them is that they can learn and it's worthwhile to try new things, I feel like I've done my job. That might not show up in an outcomes matrix or an essay, but it matters more. 

350 words exceeded. I'm happy to have a book right now that makes me want to hurry to bed. Skinny Legs and All by Tom Robbins has me often laughing so hard I've peed a little.