In her sermon yesterday, Sunday, January 24, 2010, my wife Rev. Kayle Rice, minister of Unitarian Universalist Church of the Palouse, spoke to the congregation about her decision, effective as of late spring or early summer, to resign as their minister, to move out of state from here in Moscow [pronounced with a long o], Idaho, and, at least for awhile, to leave church ministry to follow a different, yet to be explored, path with heart which will involve spirituality, art, and, like MISS RUMPHIUS, doing something to make the world more beautiful. I was the Celebrant in yesterday's church service, which included my reading some prepared comments to the congregation. This is what I said:
I've liked Moscow, the Palouse region, and this church since Kayle and
I first visited here. Among the high points of my life was when this
congregation voted to call Kayle as your minister and welcomed her and
me into this building with a rousing rendition of "Enter, Rejoice and
Come in." I have often inwardly rejoiced to have the good fortune to
experience living here. My active participation in this church and in
the Moscow community has in part been an expression of that admiration
and appreciation of all that makes Moscow and the UUCP in so many ways
wonderful.
I had expected to—and would have been content to—live here for several
more years, or even until Kayle reaches retirement age. From the start
I have been conscious of the inevitability that our stay here—whether
for four, six, twelve, or however many years—would be temporary and
that my responsibility would be, when we did leave, to leave with all
of the projects in which I've been closely involved in good shape and
in good hands.
Well before summer comes I'd like to see several more pages added to
the website, such as Music and Young Adult; see the addition of
drop-down menus, and see one or two persons added to the Web Group, to take over text updating, photos uploading, and calendar updating. And
I'd like to see one or two persons added to the Library Group, to help
carry forward its project of having a well stocked, well organized,
and convenient to use church library. That project has come a long
ways, with more yet to do. In the past several years the
Communications Committee has progressed intermittently by fits and
starts and has often stalled. I'd like to see it soon have at least
three enthused members, one its leader, and I'd like to see the UUCP
logo finally in ubiquitous use. And I hope to see enthused
participation in the Social Action Committee increased even more.
Because they are vital to putting into practice our principles of
encouragement to spiritual growth and a free and responsible search
for truth and meaning, I'd like to see adult RE programs continue to
develop, including getting the new spirituality books discussion group
started.
And I'd like to see the projects in process that were mentioned by
Kayle brought to fruition.
I myself alone can do little to realize those intentions. I can have
no part in achieving some of them, aside from cheering, and my need to
focus on getting ready to move limits how much I can help achieve
others of them, but I will do my part as I am able, so that I can
leave knowing I did my best to leave the town and the church slightly
even better places than when they welcomed Kayle and me.
While I would be content to stay, I am content to leave, because I
know from experience that there are other wonderful towns and other
wonderful UU churches and that what we do here is part of a large and
deep movement. Kayle must do what her spirit says do, go where her
path leads. To live with her is my delight. Luckily for me, I can be a
writer anywhere.
My wish is that the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Palouse will
continue to be a happening, vibrant church for many generations, a
beacon for the principles which we affirm.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Not Nameless
Yesterday my wife Rev. Kayle Rice talked at Unitarian Universalist Church of the Palouse about the "black empowerment controversy" in the Unitarian Universalist Association in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Click here and here for the history of the controversy.
Yesterday's UUCP service was in honor of Martin Luther King Day weekend, and the readings remembered and honored the life and work for social justice of MLK. One of the readings said something about while the name of Dr. King is remembered by many, there were tens of thousands of nameless persons active in the civil rights movement of the 1960s and 1970s.
True, and there were many who were and are not nameless, whose names are in history books and memoirs. Unitarian Universalists should know and remember their names and tell their stories to the next generation. For a partial list, click here.
Click here and here for the history of the controversy.
Yesterday's UUCP service was in honor of Martin Luther King Day weekend, and the readings remembered and honored the life and work for social justice of MLK. One of the readings said something about while the name of Dr. King is remembered by many, there were tens of thousands of nameless persons active in the civil rights movement of the 1960s and 1970s.
True, and there were many who were and are not nameless, whose names are in history books and memoirs. Unitarian Universalists should know and remember their names and tell their stories to the next generation. For a partial list, click here.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Teaching is not my forte or calling
Yesterday and today I substitute taught sophomore English in Moscow, Idaho High School, which is a block from Kayle's and my apartment. The regular teacher, S.H., took sick Sunday night, and the woman who phones substitutes woke me with a call yesterday morning about 7:15 and asked if I could be at the high school between 7:45 and 8:00. I said yes, and I was.
The last time I taught school was when I substituted 2nd-6th grade classes in the spring of 1967 and 7th grade in the fall of 1967 in Chicago, before I moved to Canada, a war resister.
Needing to supplement my meager Social Security retirement income, recently I applied to Moscow School District to be a substitute teacher, office worker, kitchen helper, or whatever. The human resources woman at the district office said that, since I am not a certified teacher, my college degrees only qualify me to substitute teach on an emergency basis, such as when I was called early yesterday morning to substitute for S.H., who had gotten sick in the night.
Going into her classroom, I could see at a glance that she is an interesting person and superb teacher. The many books lying casually about the room had authors of such caliber as Plato and Camus. A lesson on the blackboard (or rather dry erase white board) was on literary, mythical, and Biblical allusions. On a bulletin board were clippings on contemporary social conditions.
Very luckily for me, also in the room was her husband, who introduced himself and mentioned that he is a retired university English professor. He had come to bring me a lesson plan that S. H. had written by hand in between being sick to her stomach. He was also there to mark-up student essays for a Martin Luther King Day local contest. That kept him present all morning, and thanks to his calm reassurances and example, I soon learned to trust the students to largely regulate themselves.
I had moments of doubt both days, as when a boy zipped about the room on a Razor scooter, or when a couple of boys started practicing their wrestling, or a girl asked to go next door to a multimedia room to practice her poetry recital and instead showed her friends a video she's made (and made impressively well), or when some kids at a table supposedly rehearsing their poetry recitals shot rubber bands at each other and pencil stabbed plastic cups into shreds, or when I asked one girl to go on an errands and three insisted on going, and so on. The scootering boy soon set his scooter aside and sat at his desk; the wrestling boys soon were walking about dramatically practicing their memorized poems; the girls watching a video were soon back to practicing their poetry reciting, the boys and girls shooting rubber bands and shredding plastic cups, having for the moment had enough of poetry, soon on their own had gotten out vocabulary cards. Both days I rarely felt a need to step in, and when I did, a mild suggestion was enough to keep the creative ruckus from getting too loud or wild.
In "The Second Coming" Yeats wrote, "Turning and turning in the widening gyre / The falcon cannot hear the falconer; / Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...." That's how it seemed at times in the classroom, and it was gratifying each time yet again I muddled through and yet again the students proved their developing reliability and maturity.
The main project yesterday was getting essays and art work done and submitted to the MLK Day contests, and those students who got done with that practiced for an upcoming poetry recital. I later heard from contest judges that the quantity and the quality of MLK Day contest entries was greater than ever this year. Today's project was more poetry reciting practice, with some advancing from small group practice to reciting to the whole class, with a prompter. All who took a turn gave it their best effort, and the quality of many recitations and of many of the feedback comments was outstanding.
The upshot for me of the experience is that I learned again, as back in 1967, that teaching is not my forte or my calling. I can get through a school day still standing and with sufficient positive results to give me satisfaction. But school teaching is work best done with whole-hearted dedication. Done well, it takes its own kinds of creativity and talents. I can muddle through but don't have the aptitude to do better. I don't speak clearly, don't have confidence, am not assertive, have a poor memory, am not an institution person, have little stamina, and so on. The deciding factor for me is that my calling and forte is in work with words--as a writer, editor, proofreader, bookman, and such. My job a few years ago as a parttime restaurant dishwasher fit my needs well, because the routine work gave my subconscious a chance to work on my writing projects. Teaching leaves me drained of mental and physical energy and in no shape to write.
I have not decided whether to limit my substitute teaching to a maximum two days in a week or to take my name off of the substitute teaching list altogether. I do know that teaching won't be a major part of my work life.
My admiration for both S. H. and her students is immense. They are in a Moscow High School tradition of excellence.
The last time I taught school was when I substituted 2nd-6th grade classes in the spring of 1967 and 7th grade in the fall of 1967 in Chicago, before I moved to Canada, a war resister.
Needing to supplement my meager Social Security retirement income, recently I applied to Moscow School District to be a substitute teacher, office worker, kitchen helper, or whatever. The human resources woman at the district office said that, since I am not a certified teacher, my college degrees only qualify me to substitute teach on an emergency basis, such as when I was called early yesterday morning to substitute for S.H., who had gotten sick in the night.
Going into her classroom, I could see at a glance that she is an interesting person and superb teacher. The many books lying casually about the room had authors of such caliber as Plato and Camus. A lesson on the blackboard (or rather dry erase white board) was on literary, mythical, and Biblical allusions. On a bulletin board were clippings on contemporary social conditions.
Very luckily for me, also in the room was her husband, who introduced himself and mentioned that he is a retired university English professor. He had come to bring me a lesson plan that S. H. had written by hand in between being sick to her stomach. He was also there to mark-up student essays for a Martin Luther King Day local contest. That kept him present all morning, and thanks to his calm reassurances and example, I soon learned to trust the students to largely regulate themselves.
I had moments of doubt both days, as when a boy zipped about the room on a Razor scooter, or when a couple of boys started practicing their wrestling, or a girl asked to go next door to a multimedia room to practice her poetry recital and instead showed her friends a video she's made (and made impressively well), or when some kids at a table supposedly rehearsing their poetry recitals shot rubber bands at each other and pencil stabbed plastic cups into shreds, or when I asked one girl to go on an errands and three insisted on going, and so on. The scootering boy soon set his scooter aside and sat at his desk; the wrestling boys soon were walking about dramatically practicing their memorized poems; the girls watching a video were soon back to practicing their poetry reciting, the boys and girls shooting rubber bands and shredding plastic cups, having for the moment had enough of poetry, soon on their own had gotten out vocabulary cards. Both days I rarely felt a need to step in, and when I did, a mild suggestion was enough to keep the creative ruckus from getting too loud or wild.
In "The Second Coming" Yeats wrote, "Turning and turning in the widening gyre / The falcon cannot hear the falconer; / Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...." That's how it seemed at times in the classroom, and it was gratifying each time yet again I muddled through and yet again the students proved their developing reliability and maturity.
The main project yesterday was getting essays and art work done and submitted to the MLK Day contests, and those students who got done with that practiced for an upcoming poetry recital. I later heard from contest judges that the quantity and the quality of MLK Day contest entries was greater than ever this year. Today's project was more poetry reciting practice, with some advancing from small group practice to reciting to the whole class, with a prompter. All who took a turn gave it their best effort, and the quality of many recitations and of many of the feedback comments was outstanding.
The upshot for me of the experience is that I learned again, as back in 1967, that teaching is not my forte or my calling. I can get through a school day still standing and with sufficient positive results to give me satisfaction. But school teaching is work best done with whole-hearted dedication. Done well, it takes its own kinds of creativity and talents. I can muddle through but don't have the aptitude to do better. I don't speak clearly, don't have confidence, am not assertive, have a poor memory, am not an institution person, have little stamina, and so on. The deciding factor for me is that my calling and forte is in work with words--as a writer, editor, proofreader, bookman, and such. My job a few years ago as a parttime restaurant dishwasher fit my needs well, because the routine work gave my subconscious a chance to work on my writing projects. Teaching leaves me drained of mental and physical energy and in no shape to write.
I have not decided whether to limit my substitute teaching to a maximum two days in a week or to take my name off of the substitute teaching list altogether. I do know that teaching won't be a major part of my work life.
My admiration for both S. H. and her students is immense. They are in a Moscow High School tradition of excellence.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Crossing Another Threshold As A Writer
I feel good about crossing another threshold as a writer, that of having a book length work accepted by a paying publisher. I'm optimistically hopeful all will go well in the manuscript to published work process. Then time will tell if the public likes the work as much as my family, friends, and colleagues.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
I May About To be Officially A Novelist
I just posted "I May About To Be Officially A Novelist" to my The Son Who Paid Attention blog at http://brianleekleysonwho.blogspot.com/
Friday, January 8, 2010
Message to President Obama after watching Bill Moyers on Big Finance and Big Politics
Today I went to http://www.whitehouse.gov/contact and sent President Obama this message:
==========
1-8-2010
Dear Mr. President:
Did you, your wife, your staff, your advisers, your appointees, and the Democratic Party and Organize America leaders watch Bill Moyers' Journal on PBS-TV tonight -- the show Big Finance and Big Politics, with guests David Corn and Kevin Drum of Mother Jones Magazine? The show can be watched and its transcript read at:
http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/01082010/watch.html
Please pay attention to it. If you want the peoples' respect and self-respect, then get some backbone, stop letting bankers and financiers pull your strings, kick them out of your administration, put real reformers in charge throughout the executive branch, and get some simple and effective rules passed regulating banks and financial institutions, as recommended on tonight's Bill Moyers program. I myself am a nobody from nowhere, but I don't think that mine -- or that Moyers' -- is an isolated voice. Brian Leekley
==========
1-8-2010
Dear Mr. President:
Did you, your wife, your staff, your advisers, your appointees, and the Democratic Party and Organize America leaders watch Bill Moyers' Journal on PBS-TV tonight -- the show Big Finance and Big Politics, with guests David Corn and Kevin Drum of Mother Jones Magazine? The show can be watched and its transcript read at:
http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/01082010/watch.html
Please pay attention to it. If you want the peoples' respect and self-respect, then get some backbone, stop letting bankers and financiers pull your strings, kick them out of your administration, put real reformers in charge throughout the executive branch, and get some simple and effective rules passed regulating banks and financial institutions, as recommended on tonight's Bill Moyers program. I myself am a nobody from nowhere, but I don't think that mine -- or that Moyers' -- is an isolated voice. Brian Leekley
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