On Tending

Tend (v):

1. to attend to by work 

or services, care, etc: 

to tend a fire.

2. to look after; watch over and care for; 

minister to or wait on with service: 

to tend the sick.

3. to lead or be directed 

in a particularly direction

4. to be disposed or inclined in action, 

operation, or effect to do something: 

The particles tend to unite.

Having worked with young people on and off for the better part of my life, there is one verb I feel best describes the work of a caregiver, parent, or teacher: to tend.

It is a gentle but profound word.

We tend fires, we tend the sick and dying, we tend our gardens.

And we tend our children.

The fire. The dying. The garden. The child.

All these are potent signs of a Reality that requires tenderness, watchfulness, oxygen - a delicate blend of vigilance and space.

I have seen children who are carefully tended - who are trained and pruned with the greatest love and kindness. These children have a gentleness of spirit fostered by a deep sense of security and protection.

Of course, all parents lose their tempers sometimes. And all children test boundaries. We are learning as we go - and making plenty of mistakes along the way. Fortunately, children are supremely forgiving of mistakes made in a spirit of service and nurturance. And almost all wounds can be healed - as long as children know they walk on solid ground.

This ground is the love, respect and trust they have for their parents, caregivers, and teachers.

I feel the best way to establish this sense of security and confidence is for a child to know he or she is being tended. This includes, but is not limited to, being attentive to a child's needs. Being firm and sometimes unyielding, but also caring and receptive.

Beyond this, tending is a posture or stance we must adopt in every aspect of our lives - not only teaching and child-rearing, but self-reflection and mindfulness. It is an attitude of leadership, directed toward unity and integration. And it begins with ourselves.

We must learn to nurture and nourish both the fire of our spirit and the sick and dying elements of our bodies and souls. These wounded or dead parts of ourselves are not to be feared and shunned, but welcomed and healed. Or honoured and let go.

We must tend our interior garden with constancy and affection. For this is the only garden we can enter without fear of being cast out.

And once we are assured the ground will not give way - that we too walk on the bedrock of our soul's own love, respect, and trust - we will glimpse something hidden in the tall grasses and shy, blooming things.

A child.

This is the child we have so long neglected. The one who can bear too much. We must signal our friendship from a distance. Then, approach.

Educating Prometheus

Over the Christmas holidays, I read a remarkable book by Thomas Merton, The New Man. In it, he revisits the myth of Prometheus, who, in Greek mythology, was accused of stealing fire from the gods.

Merton challenges the foundations of this myth, and the metaphors at its heart. The fire, he claims, is no ordinary kindling. It is man's

"uncommunicable reality, his own spirit. It is the affirmation and vindication of his own being. Yet this being is a gift of God, and it does not have to be stolen. It can only be had by a free gift - the very hope of gaining it by theft is pure illusion."

For me, this idea of the gift of fire has strong parallels to education and independent thought. Like the spirit of man, education cannot be stolen or bought second-hand. One of the hallmarks of this era of mass knowledge creation and dissemination, which began with Gutenberg's printing press, is the principle that we should all "see with our own eyes and not through the eyes of others."

Yet, while there is now a surfeit of information, there remains a deeply unequal distribution of schools, technology, and human resources to make this ideal a reality for all. This means that in many parts of the world, people are not actively engaged in the quest for truth.

Even more concerning, the data deluge means that even those of us with the skills and resources to be discerning rely on the voices of media, clergy, politicians, and other thought leaders to make up our minds for us.

Unlike Prometheus, who at least had the courage to steal his spirit back from the "powers that be", many of us are too comfortable trusting the tending of our spirit to the gods of finance, industry, and government.

For example, we have just witnessed a devastating global financial crisis that led so-called developed countries to question the era of no-limit credit and a hands-off approach to regulation.

And yet, when I graduated from university in 2011, the majority of well-paid jobs on offer were in the fields of finance, economics, and marketing.

So despite shoddy ethics and poor oversight, we continue to funnel our graduates into the same industries which helped trigger this mess in the first place.

The purpose of education, at least according to policymakers, swings back and forth between educating for citizenship and educating for productivity. Sometimes these goals are combined, but at the moment, there seems to be a clear preference for students as economic units:

In a 2012 article in The Guardian, Molly Corbett Broad, president of the American Council on Education, emphasised that the future of higher education includes "heightened international economic competition," the need to create "efficiencies and reforms" in models of teaching and learning, greater involvement of the for-profit sector, and a policy focus on "higher productivity, better consumer protection and increased evidence of learning outcomes."

The push for economic advantage starts at the top. In his 2012 State of the Union Address US President Obama highlighted the importance of the STEM fields, or Science, Technology, Engineering, and Maths:

"Think about the America within our reach: A country that leads the world in educating its people. An America that attracts a new generation of high-tech manufacturing and high-paying jobs...I also hear from many business leaders who want to hire in the United States but can't find workers with the right skills. Growing industries in science and technology have twice as many openings as we have workers who can do the job. Think about that - openings at a time when millions of Americans are looking for work. That's inexcusable. And we know how to fix it."

Yes, we know how to fix it: by designing curricula that focus on shoehorning students into the marketplace when they graduate. By creating students that can compete globally, and standardised tests that track how they are measuring up. By valuing teachers according to their statistics - number of students graduated, number of passing grades - and continuing to perfect our assembly-line education system which churns our functioning if not original thinkers.

As someone who graduated at the peak of the financial crisis - and has subsequently felt the pinch of finding paid employment - I am not in the least belittling the importance of work as a cornerstone of education.

At the same time, there is the old saying that "work is worship," and here is where this essay comes full circle. Because if work is intended to be worship, then educating good workers or good citizens is not enough.

It is not enough because citizenship and economics do not provide students with the tools to "see with their own eyes" - which includes seeing through many of the arguments offered by politicians and economists as truth.

For without the ability to see with their own eyes, the next generation will become increasingly vulnerable to misinformation - leading to distortions ranging from poor body image and cyber bullying, to racial stereotypes and religious fanaticism.

Human life is a gift, and whether it is magazines Photoshopping women into impossible ideals, or extremists detonating themselves on buses, educating the spirit that is the flame of human life is the only real pathway toward social, political, and economic progress.

Because being educated as a mere citizen or economic unit leaves unkindled the fire that each of us must claim for ourselves.