Called or Driven?

What you do v. What you are

He had nothing at all. His home was the wilderness, his food came from the wild and his clothes were the simplest one could find. He knew who he wasn't: 'I am not the Christ', and instead identified himself as just a voice – 'I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord.'

And yet the people came and crowded around him as he stood and preached to them on the banks of the River Jordan. Thousands gathered, hungry, seeking, eager to hear these strange words, words they had never heard before. They came forward to be baptised; men followed him and became his disciples, listening intently to everything he said. This was a poor man, from a quiet humble home where he had lived with two elderly parents, suddenly thrust into the limelight, the news on the lips of every dweller in Israel. What an easy step it would have been to allow them to think that he was indeed the Messiah, and that deliverance would come through him!

But he knew the truth; solmenly, soberly, with an air of understanding he moved through the grateful, listening crowds, eyes roving the horizon for the Messiah whose coming he had been called to herald. Then one day he saw him; as the sun beamed down on the brown earth of the desert, and the people lined up to be baptised in the muddy waters of the Jordan, he looked and saw Him appear. Reverently, as silence fell on the watching crowds, he moved towards Him and spoke: 'Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.'

Later, not long before imprisonment, his disciples came to him, disturbed and upset about Christ's actions amongst the people, which had resulted in their master's popularity decreasing. He shared with them the secret of his life's calling - 'A man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven...He must increase but I must decrease.' Perhaps they stared at him, not understanding this man, who so easily accepted the way Christ 'took over' his ministry. Maybe he said quietly, 'You see, I get my joy, not in what I do, but in who I am – in God. I was called for a purpose, and I fulfilled my calling – Christ has come. Therefore is my joy fulfilled.

He died an ignominous death; but today we remember this humble man as John the Baptist. His name has lived on through the pages of history as the man who prepared the way for the coming of Christ. Why John? – God called and he responded. The call demanded submission to God's ways, God's methods and God's criteria of success. And John was willing to accept those terms no matter what the cost to him in pain or loneliness.

I want to be like John. Having listened to God's call, I can know my mission. It may demand courage and discipline, of course, but now the results are in the hands of the Caller. Whether I increase or decrease is His concern, not mine. To order my life according to the expectations of myself and others, and to value myself according to the opinions of others is to be a driven person. But to operate on the basis of God's call is to live the fulfilled life of a called person.

The Class Rep Fiasco: Is there a Solution?

published as an opinion piece in the latest edition of NUIG's student paper

At the last Student Council, held on the 28th of February, no decisions could be made because the meeting did not reach quorum: the SU has 320 class reps on its records for this academic year, yet not even 16% could make it that evening. We waited patiently in the shadowy expanse of the Cairnes Theatre and slowly a few faithfuls straggled in through the creaking doors. But it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t that we didn’t have anything to discuss. There were the troublesome ‘non-NUIG related Rag Week’ events to be considered and there were important motions relating to the Irish economic crisis and a Code of conduct for Exec members to be voted upon. However we ended up having simply an informal discussion which was interesting, but absolutely useless as nothing concrete was achieved, and everything was postponed.

It looks like Class Reps just aren’t interested in the Students Union anymore. The question is, were they ever interested? The Students Union represents the students at university level, and the work of class representatives – the real workers at grassroots level - is essential to an effective democratic process. Only the conscientious, dedicated engagement of class reps with their Students Union will achieve any sort of positive change in the quality of life we experience on the campus of NUIG. The Students Union are our voice at the board meetings, at the academic councils, at Udaras na hOllscoil. Without us, the 320 Class Reps, the Students Union is not a representative Union, but rather a group of individuals who will make decisions based on what they assume we want – or in some cases unfortunately on what they want.

Recently NUIG’s Education Officer Conor Healy, aware of the alarming disinterest of class reps in engaging with their union, carried out a survey in an attempt to identify the root of this problem. He discovered that most classes were quite happy with their class reps; ‘they organised class parties, they worked with lecturers when problems arose and performed their day-to-day tasks well’. However a lack of information about and awareness of the SU was highlighted; reps felt that they weren’t integrated into the Union and that attending SU Council was not relevant to them. The Council was also deemed as being ‘not fun’; meetings were described as ‘fragmented’ and reps said they wouldn’t go back because they were afraid of all the arguing that went on.

So the system needs to be changed; Healy mentioned that the idea of having two reps per class – academic and social – might be an option. He also stated that the role needs to be ‘glamourised’. ‘In NUIG a show of hands elects the class rep and the main attraction of the job is the hoody. In UCD by contrast elections are a big deal, with flyering, manifestos – real campaigning goes on and a proper election is held. Reps get discounted tickets to SU events but the attraction really is in the prestige.’
But will mere glamorisation and more engagement from the SU change our failed system? Reps that are ‘afraid’ of some animated discussion may need more than a ticket to the SU Session to entice them into the dangerous war arena that is the SU Council. Some universities in England offer financial incentives for attending meetings; others offer free print credit, ECTS credits, and the Victoria University of Wellington in New Zealand even offers scholarships to those who have done exceptional work. But even if such progressive steps were taken, would the situation here improve?
If a vigorous discussion frightens a student representative and a rousing argument prevents you from attending Student Council ever again, the problem is not that the job isn’t glamorous enough. The problem is that the majority of our class representatives just don’t care, disrespect democracy and despise debate (except if it’s about the abolishment of Rag Week, of course). Strong words I know, but unfortunately true. Apathy reigns supreme in our university culture at the moment and empty SU councils simply prove this point; the challenge now lies with the SU to address this problem, make itself more relevant to the student population and teach us all by its own actions how important active, conscientious participation in student democracy is.

NUI Galway's SU passes No Platform Policy while Survey gives Startling Result

On the 7th November the Student Council was presented with three important motions; a motion to provide a statement of solidarity with Occupy Galway, a motion supporting a No Platform ban by the SU, and a motion regarding how SU officers present at SU council. After discussion, all three motions were passed.

The No Platform motion proposed that the SU will be mandated to automatically oppose any invitation to members of listed organisations to speak at this university. SU officers shall be prohibited from sharing a public platform with members of the listed organisations. Organisations are to be added and removed by ballot at class reps council. The listed organisations included the BNP, The National Front, Combat 18, Column 88, MPAC Ireland and Hizb ut – Tahir. After a short discussion on the motion, it was passed with an overwhelming majority of 55 – 2.

The idea of a No Platform policy originated in the United Kingdom, where it has been adopted into the Constitution of the National Union of Students; it was instituted in the 1990s to prevent members of the BNP to stand for SU elections. Some universities have decided not to endorse this policy, including the University of East Anglia and the University of Bath; the University of Durham disaffiliated from the NUS in 2010 after a cancelled multiculturalism event involving two BNP speakers led to thousands of students joining an internet campaign dubbed 'Durham University Students for Freedom of Speech'.

Essentially the policy proposes to ban members of fascist and/or racist organisations from speaking on the NUIG campus. Will O'Brien, Equality Officer, who proposed the motion, says that such a policy is essential in Ireland because 'we don't have a far-right extremist wing, and we need to do everything we can to maintain this.' He commented, 'Nothing good comes from it, it destroys countries and takes decades to get rid of.'

Dealing with accusation that such a policy violates free speech, Will said that the platform being denied is not a right but a privilege. 'It is not an entitlement for everybody. Fascism and racism are fundamentally opposed to democracy, and simply are incapable of being part of the democratic conversation.' He is adamant that it is of vital importance that such ideas be refused admission to campuses, as they bring nothing but damage and ruin.

At the Class Rep meeting, one student raised questions about how the No Platform policy connected to the idea of tolerance that is purported to be of paramount importance in today's society. She said, 'How far will this idea of banning certain speakers and organisations go? On the university campus of all places, are we not professing to provide a marketplace of ideas, free discourse and discussion? Instead of banning certain groups, we should educate students against them and then encourage them to protest and express their beliefs; instead of forbidding, we should promote the opposite to facism and racism in such a way that students will see absolutely no attraction in such ideologies. In facilitating our version of tolerance we need to be careful we are not becoming intolerant.'

A survey carried out by SIN after the meeting amongst students revealed that out of 154 students, 96% reported that their class reps had not consulted them concerning the motion. 48% said they would have voted against the No Platform proposal, which is sizeable advance on the 3.6 % who voted No at the Council meeting. One class rep reported that he received the motions on the day of the vote and did not have time to consult his class. Other reps did not receive the motions at all and were only introduced to them at the meeting.

These results put a question over the way in which the SU is carrying out its duties respecting class reps and correct student representation. There are clear administration difficulties as well as problems guaging correctly the opinion of the whole student body. The No Platform policy is a very important issue and requires substantial consideration and debate, which it unfortunately has not received in this instance.

The Parable of the Child

A young school teacher had a dream that an angel appeared to him and said, "You will be given a child who will grow up to become a world leader. How will you prepare him so that he will realize his intelligence, grow in confidence, develop both his assertiveness and sensitivity, be open-minded, yet strong in character? In short, what kind of education will you provide that he can become one of the world's truly GREAT leaders?"

The young teacher awoke in a cold sweat. It had never occurred to him before -- any ONE of his present or future students could be the person described in his dream. Was he preparing them to rise to ANY POSITION to which they may aspire? He thought, 'How might my teaching change if I KNEW that one of my students were this person?' He gradually began to formulate a plan in his mind.

This student would need experience as well as instruction. He would need to know how to solve problems of various kinds. He would need to grow in character as well as knowledge. He would need self-assurance as well as the ability to listen well and work with others. He would need to understand and appreciate the past, yet feel optimistic about the future. He would need to know the value of lifelong learning in order to keep a curious and active mind. He would need to grow in understanding of others and become a student of the spirit. He would need to set high standards for Himself and learn self discipline, yet he would also need love and encouragement, that he might be filled with love and goodness.

His teaching changed. Every young person who walked through his classroom became, for him, a future world leader. He saw each one, not as they were, but as they could be. He expected the best from his students, yet tempered it with compassion. He taught each one as if the future of the world depended on his instruction.
After many years, the results of his teaching became obvious. Almost all of his pupils had reached positions of respect and command in the world.

The Moral of the Story
For the Teacher: Treat each child as a potential world leader. Only God knows the future, yet your duty is to train up those you have responsibility for in the best way you can. Teach them respect for authority, love for each other and belief in themselves.

For the Student: Work each day with your aim as ‘World Leader’!Just as huge oak trees grow from tiny acorns, so great responsibility comes from small faithfulnesses. Learn to be self-disciplined now so that you can bring order to forthcoming chaotic situations. Practice loving your classmates today so that you can minister to the hearts of others tomorrow. Know the facts of the past so that you can improve the future.

Remember that today’s world is crying out for wise and ready leaders.

A Day at School

A Day at School

It's another morning. I stumble out the door of the house, armed with big black handbag and laptop bag, and start the car. With heat turned on full blast, I head down the road, wipers going like crazy, hoping to miss the morning rush. Right at the roundabout, straight through Mulroy's junction, remember the speed limit, this would be a typical morning for the curley tails to be out. As I accelerate down the N4, I turn up the Cathedrals' singing Daystar, joining in at the top of my voice because no-one can hear me here. I like this song – 'Let Your love shine through me in the night', and I like to make it my prayer, because beyond teaching well, and giving grades and correcting copies, I want to make an impact on each child's soul for eternity.

School. Buses are pulled in outside, along with cars and there are kids pouring from in from every side, a blue army descending on a grey building. They all look the same, yet each one is a totally different bundle of fears and desires; some wave at me at as I pull into my car-park space, and I smile back. I get my stuff, lock up the car, climb the white steps, and enter the school. Inside, the familiar smell of baking bread from the canteen fills the air and the principle walks up and down the corridor, making sure everyone is behaving as they congregate around lockers and collect books. In the staffroom, there are teachers drinking tea, making toast, yawning, chatting and most of all photocopying. I leave my bags in my spot under the window and prepare for my first class, saying 'Good Morning' to a couple of people.

The bell goes, and the staffroom is empty in about 30 seconds. In my classroom, Room 2, a smell of fresh paint fills the air as it has been just recently renovated. The room is buzzing with noise and laughter and I say nothing for a moment, waiting for last-minute stragglers to come in and finding the right page in my book. Then I close the door, write the page-number on the board and shout – 'Okay everyone, books open, copies out, turn around in your chairs, enough talking please!' Slowly 24 fourteen-year-olds quieten down, scrambling for pencils and asking 'Miss, what page is it?' Patiently I say, 'It's on the board.' This happens about 3 times. After calling the roll, class begins, and the 40 minutes pass quickly, with questions, and complaints about homework, and threats of points and imaginative answers. Then the bell goes and there is a rush for the door; as one teacher says 'They'd run you over, so they would.'

Every day is different and you can never predict what is going to happen next; fainting girls, shoes disappearing, tears, fits of hysterical laughter, questions like:

'Miss, are you 23?'

'If all the noblemen were inside the castle having a feast and the IRA threw a handgrenade at the castle, what would happen?'

'Miss, are we your favourite class?'

'Miss, amn't I talented at English when I try?'

'Miss, when is your last day?'

'Miss, I got the Iphone 4, here look at it, do you like it?'

'Miss, was teaching your first choice?'

'Miss, have you learned a lot from teaching me?'

There are comments like:

'We never understood it before but we do now...thanks Miss',

'Miss, right now I'm bored out of my mind,'

'Miss, poetry is useless – like, nobody uses it in real life...'

There are the kids who seem unable to sit quietly in their seats, the ones who boast of the amount of points they have and say to their friends -

'Aw man I've got lunchtime detention again.' High Five. 'G'man Johnny.'

And there are the ones who never utter a peek, speak in a low tone of voice all the time, and seem to have their minds on something else. They're the ones whose hearts can sometimes be hurting a lot; they're unable to join in the lightheartedness around them, and they are overcome at any sign of care or affection.

The day goes on and when 3:30 comes around, the school wakes up from its after lunch slumber. After I've wiped the tables and filled the dishwasher for the hundreth time in 6 weeks, it's going home time. 'G'bye Miss Burke', shouts red-haired Sarah as I lug all my stuff out, unlock the car, drive out the narrow gates, and out of the small little town of Foxford. Tomorrow will be another day.

Boy

BOY

By a student teacher

There's a gap between your front teeth,

And yesterday a big black bruise

Adorned your forehead.

You pointed cheerfully at Billy, best friend

For a hundred years,

‘He did it - we were horsin' 'round,

Great craic like.'

I watch you write, each letter a trial of

Patience, pain and

Perseverance.

The marks you leave look more like a

Trail of rabbits' footprints

Than that list of German

Verbs

I spent all week trying to teach you.

Boxing matches and frogs and rugby

And Billy

And ‘Are you on Facebook, Miss?'

A boy, walking across the road of life.

Over hills, through valleys,

Step carefully on those creaking bridges,

Watch the traffic on those

Highways.

Sometimes I feel your eyes on me

During a lull in the restlessness of a boy.

Brown eyes, mirrors of the soul,

Filled with painful, frightened,

Lonely questions

That you could never ask aloud,

And I see the hidden spirit that is

Locked away behind the talk of girls and detention.

Its hard being a boy from a broken home in a

Predatory,

Bloodthirsty world.

Boy, our paths crossed for a few, short weeks,

And though I would show you the best road map

For the rough, wild way that lies ahead,

And hold your hand like a guide through the

Maze of growing-up years,

I must soon leave.

All I can do is give you my prayers

And the memory

Of someone who truly cared

For a boy.

Encounter in the Sandwich Shop

'That's 3 euro, luv,' says the shoplady as she scans my sandwich and bottled water. I pay quickly, and wait for my change. The customer behind me is a school-uniformed 2nd year, with a dnagerously cheeky face.
'So miss, what do you think of our school?'
I turn in surprise at this unexpected friendliness.
'Ah its lovely now, so it is...'
'Have you looked me up on Facebook?' The question leaves me reeling in shock.
'Excuse me...do I know you? Anyway, what do you think I am?'
He smiles as he pays for his lunch and says, 'You know well who I am.'
'Actually I don't,' I reply, feeling that somehow this conversation is not one a would-be teacher should be engaging in, but fascinated nevertheless.
'Sure, aren't we all ye teachers talk about in that staffroom anyway? Chattering on the whole time about us all...'
We head out of the shop, and I reply, laughing at this stage, 'Well, my friend, I wouldn't be adding you on FB anyway. In the first place, I don't have FB, and secondly, I'm a teacher, remember...'
We part at the door, as he joins his cronies, and I make my way back to school. I've learned two things at least - 1) don't go to the local sandwich shop at lunchtime, and 2) all the teachers talk about in the staffroom is the pupils...
_______________________________

Thinking about one's own power can make one almost giddy-headed, you know. Every single person has some kind of influence; if only each individual on humankind realised that and utilised that realization positively, what a change would be made.

But that influence is even stronger when you are a teacher. I see that more and more, as I teach and as I learn. One part of me exults in it and I think of the malleable souls who come into my classroom for a couple of hours each week, eager to experience something new, eager to see something different happen, eager to discover another part of themselves in this era called adolescence. And I want to get to know each one of them, know their names, appeal to their strengths, and bring out the even greater strengths that hide behind bravado and loudness.

And therefore, to hear a child being meanly dissected about in the staffroom bothers me. To be told in low undertones that such a child has been a trouble-maker all his/her life bothers me. To meet a bright, smart young lad at lunch-time in the local sandwich store who assures me that all 'ye teachers do in the staffroom is gossip about us' bothers me. A situation where such things are known and regarded as the norm will never become the ideal community of teachers and pupils where both are partners in the process of learning.

That's one of the places where Irish education is failing. A wide chasm exists between the learned and the learners, the educators and those being educated; this chasm will hinder learning and make school a place to be endured. Communication lines are nonexistent - students rightly feel that they are not being treated as individuals, that no-one really cares about them personally. The feelings of isolation established here will affect future perceptions of necessary insitutions and authorities, and will lead to crises in Irish society.