I am pleased to announce that I have accepted a position at Columbia Bible College, in Abbotsford, BC, as the Director of their Worship Arts Program. I am delighted with this opportunity, and have been nothing but impressed by Columbia: by its administration, its faculty, its staff, its students, its programs. I’m excited to begin teaching. And I’m terrified. In almost equal measure.
When I was in elementary school I was one of those kids that looked forward to school in the fall. Oh, I loved summer. No doubt about that. But my nostrils would flare at the smell of pencil crayons, and I would spend weeks salivating over back-to-school flyers – meticulously making my lists, marking off the cheapest prices, and then dragging my poor Mum to at least five different locations in order to purchase the items I had circled carefully in each and every flyer. But, every year – just before the start of school – the twinge of anxiety would begin. “There’s no way I can handle grade four. They have to do multiplication and division. They don’t just colour maps… they have to know things on them!” It’s a pattern that continued, at least somewhat, throughout my academic career. “I can’t do High School. They have to read Shakespeare!” “I can’t do University. They have to write papers and complete labs!” I can’t do Grad School. They’ll actually expect me to know things!”…..
We often miss the point of education. We get so caught up in the idea that we must know all things, that we must be “enough” for every aspect of our lives, that we are no longer able to learn. We either decide that we must pretend to know everything in order to appear smart, or that we are incapable of knowing anything more because we do not know it already. Both decisions are clearly ridiculous. Both decisions result in a closed mind and stilted personal growth. The only way to learn something is to begin by acknowledging that I don’t know it, and to proceed on the understanding that I am capable of learning it.
I don’t know the demographics of everyone who reads this blog, but I do know that every single one of you is a student. And a teacher. All of us – students, teachers, butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers – have something to learn and something to teach. We reach a hand forward and a hand backward at all times, hoping to pull someone else along behind us, even as some of our weight is taken by the person ahead of us.
There is a certain delight in being able to teach someone something you have learned well: whether it be a concept, a skill, or an attitude. There is also joy in the admission that you don’t know everything – because that means there is more out there to discover. And I definitely don’t know everything. I know some things. I have some experience. But the diversity and richness of this goodly-created world means that we can exist in a constant state of wonder and learning.
Tomorrow I step onto the steepest learning curve my life has thrown me to date. But I enter into this new chapter knowing that I have much to give and that there are people who will be willing to receive it; and knowing that I have lots to learn and that there are people – staff, faculty, students, writers, practitioners – from whom I can learn much.
I think I’ll go buy some pencil crayons.