1. On Monday evening, I saw that the check filter light was lit on the front panel of the window a/c. I temporarily experienced a departure from the calm and jolly demeanor I try to maintain and immediately imagined that checking and cleaning the filter would require such a complicated process that I'd be on the phone or the World Wide Web all day Tuesday looking for the right professional or the right family member or friend to help me. I went to bed with visions of doom dancing in my head. I succeeded, though, in pushing them away.
This morning, I fixed myself a calming cup of dark roast coffee and rushed onto YouTube. I found a video demonstrating how to remove and clean a window a/c filter.
IT'S SIMPLE.
And, so, my day began in triumph. Following the example of the calm, confident, competent, soft spoken, reassuring guy on the video, I took out the filter, washed it, gave it plenty of time to dry, gave it a once over with a dish towel to be sure, and replaced it.
Now I was ready for Project #2: call Ziply and see if, with the help of Joe, a friendly tech eager to work with me to restore my internet service, I could get back online from home and not depend on Christy for service.
Joe walked me through a variety of options -- unplug this, plug that back in, and none of them worked.
A technician will come to the house on Wednesday afternoon to get it all working again.
2. Today my niece Molly posted a picture of a beaver on Facebook. It accompanied a story about a baby beaver, a kit, being born in England's Exmoor National Park, the first beaver birth in 400 years.
The adult beavers of this family have been active, felling trees and dragging wood and vegetation around to build a dam and a lodge.
The beavers' efforts will enhance
wetland habitat in the park.
I immediately thought of my favorite quotation from Ben Goldfarb's book Eager. It's a mantra, really, a maxim, repeated by Utah State University Professor of Riverscapes, Joe Wheaton. When it comes to land and water restoration, Joe Wheaton says, "Let the rodent do the work."
In other words, he is imploring humans to get out of the way and let the beavers work their restorative wonders on bringing damaged riverscapes back to life.
I've been thinking of this quotation in a couple of ways. Today President Biden issued a plea to governors to make positive efforts toward encouraging Covid vaccinations and, at the very least, "get out of the way of the people who are trying to do the right thing."
Get out of the way.
Let the (insert your own word here) do the work.
Joe Wheaton and President Biden's statements took me back to my days as an English instructor.
The more experienced I became as an instructor, the more I wanted to get out of the way of my students. In the spirit of Joe Wheaton, I wanted to "let the students do the work."
I felt under some obligation, even pressure, because of objectives mandated by the institutions I worked for (Lane Community College and the State of Oregon), to impose these institutions' will upon my students' writing.
So, yes, I did intervene. I did suggest ways students might structure their work more solidly and develop their work more fully and I tried to help them out with grammar and punctuation.
I could expand on this more, but, for now, I'll just say that I did my best to encourage students to write in an authentic voice, develop their own style, and work out their own perspectives on the questions we addressed in the courses I taught.
I did my best to "Let the students do the work."
This has been on my mind because, primarily through Facebook, I frequently read several of my former students' elegant and thoughtful writing.
Recently, one of these former students, Leah, has been posting meditative and eloquent Three Beautiful Things.
As her instructor, I can't remember what I might have done, 10-15 years ago, if anything, to further Leah's thinking and eloquence.
My hope is that I got out of her way.
I hope I let Leah do the work.
I hope I had the wisdom to encourage Leah, possibly help build her confidence, but, whatever I did, I hope it was with a light touch and not a heavy hand.
3. Bill Davie was first my student in 1977 and the last time he enrolled in a course of mine was 1983.
Tonight, I tuned in to Bill's 56th Tree House Concert. The symptoms Bill experiences because of MS are exacerbated by any season's heat, but especially the summer.
As a result, Bill performs these concerts from his home twice a month now, not every week.
Because he has to try to impose his will upon his sometimes uncooperative hands, Bill establishes a set list of about six or seven songs ten days or so ahead of his performance and works those songs over repeatedly, doing all he can to get them back in his hands again.
His approach certainly worked tonight. Bill gave his hands all the rest he could by talking with us between songs, taking a poetry break with Marvin Bell, Ruth Stone, and some of his own poems, and announcing upcoming birthdays.
Why did I mention that Bill was once a student of mine?
Well, Bill is another example of a writer whom I had no business being heavy handed with. When I listen to Bill's songs and poetry and read other writing of his, I'm impressed by the free play of his mind, a free play no one should have ever interfered with or imposed their will upon.
As with Leah, and, as with scores and scores of other students I worked with, I hope all those years ago I stayed out of Bill's way, encouraged his mind's free play, and let him know how much I enjoyed his writing.
That was my job as an instructor.
Let Bill do the work.
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