“Build me up Buttercup” ~ The Foundations

So, I think we all know the Golden Rule…right? “Do unto others as you would have done to you.” But, I’m going to challenge this. Yes…Prof K is going to challenge the most known ‘rule’ we have. Ready?

Look, I agree we should treat others like we want to be treated my them. That’s a no-brainer…at least for most of us. But, what if we flipped this around? Let’s call it, for lack of a better title but nothing to do with the fact that I’m presenting this awesome idea (🙄): The Golden ‘K’ Rule 2.0. Sound good? 😬

Anyhoot, here’s what it says: “Treat YOURSELF like you treat OTHERS.” Further, let’s expand it into “Talk to yourself like you talk to others”, “Respect yourself like you do others”, “Compliment yourself like you do others”, “Show compassion for yourself like you do others”, “Be kind to yourself like you are to others”, and finally “Forgive yourself like you do others.”

Wow. The most known Golden Rule in the world is ‘one’ definition. Mine has at least ‘7’. Now I would never brag, but kinda impressive, huh? 🙄

My sissy and I have talked about this before, and I’m learning more and more about self-kindness and self-compassion in the Mindfulness course I’m taking. The Grand Poobah has also discussed this, as well as a student of mine. Here’s the thing: Why do we talk about ourselves, treat ourselves, and demean/dismiss ourselves while building others up? One day I said to my sissy: “You are beautiful.” Which she is…she was always the pretty one…I was labeled the smart one. However, she is both! Anyway, here’s what she said: “No, I’m not! YOU are!” Then we did the back and forth sisters do in this situation…”No, I’m not!”…”Yes you are!” until we decided to change topics and gossip about ma (just kidding ma…you know we love you 😘).

Finally, we came back to our complimentary based tiff and we realized this: we knock ourselves down while trying to build each other up. It’s like repulsive magnets (both ‘same’ poles on magnets not being able to connect 🤓, and yes, I had to look that up) in that my compliment to her was pushed away by her negative talk to herself and the same for me. So basically, we spent 10 minutes of our 50+ year old lives yammering to each other with nothing accomplished. Hmmmm…come to think of it, that is descriptive of me and ma’s conversations at times.

Why in the hell do we do this? Why is it so easy to build others up…see the good and the beautiful and the gifts inside of them while we denounce our own? Why can’t the positive messages override the negative ones in our head, and why do we have these anyway?

If T tells me I’m beautiful (her glasses need adjusted 🤨), why can’t I say: “Thank you…I think I am too.” WAIT! I can’t say that! What conceit…what nerve…what narcissism. But is it? If I see beauty as a light inside a person, why can’t I see my own light? Beauty isn’t just about looks…it’s about the person you are…the soul you are…the effort you put into people…the empathy you have.

So, I’m on a fucking dating site (sorry, ma but this site is a complete nightmare and if I see one more selfie of a guy in the bathroom where the toilet is visible and there is spit toothpaste on the mirror, I’m going to puke 🤢) and I can’t even bring myself to tell you the name of it. It’s for ‘mature’ (cough cough) people of a certain age (shutty) and whenever I mention it to a friend, they crack up. Literally. The other day, my neighbor and I were yapping over the fence and I told her the name of it…she was drinking some water at the time and spit it out while cracking up. To be honest, others have had the same reaction. (Note: I cancelled my subscription because I’m really happy right now and don’t want to date after all. Not yet. I’m here to tell you that sometimes it’s just so much better to be single!) 🤩

The Grand Poobah likes to look over my shoulder if I scroll through ‘matches’ on our lunch hour and every so often, out of sheer curiosity, I send a ‘smile’ to someone and the Poobah gets pissed. He’ll see a doctor or lawyer or architect and tell me to click on them. I don’t. Why? Because I’ve talked to myself so negatively over the years…taken the blame for so many things…dismissed myself so many times…lacked any compassion or kindness for myself that I simply don’t feel ‘good’ enough. When I told the Poobah this he said: “Kristi. For fuck sakes (his ma doesn’t care if he cusses), you are a professor who is smart and pretty and educated with a lot to offer a guy.” And I say: “Bullshit.”

But I really thought about this later and he’s right (I would never tell him that😐), it’s exactly what I do. I’ve always chosen men (or they choose me and I go with the flow) who ‘need’ something from me. Who need ‘fixed’. Who need ‘help’ with the exception of O’s dad who was actually a smart, fun man from an excellent family. That marriage lasted 13 years and could have been saved if we had both chosen to do so.

Anyhoot, take J. Please. He was living in his Grandma’s dark, moldy (literally) basement with his cousin who didn’t believe in trash cans or flushing the toilet (literally again), who didn’t have enough money for lunch. He had no decent clothes, no job, nothing to really call his own, no place to see his kids outside of the ‘dungeon’ and the list goes on. Fast forward 3 years and he has a house, moolah (VA benefits that I helped him get), more time with his kids than ever, etc. He also is getting help from the VA (which I ‘forced’) and is a doing better in terms of his PTSD/Borderline.

Hubby 3 was also a tortured soul: he was living with his ma (Krusty…her nickname because her voice was scratchy from smoking and she was the triplet of Marge Simpson’s sisters) and barely making ends meet. He was angry, needy, and hadn’t experienced committed love from anyone. Then I traipsed into his life and his transformation over our first couple years together (which were hell) was amazing. He’s truly a different person now and I’m so proud of him…he has always told me I did it for him. I love him for that.

I’ve had others as well. Guys that had very little to offer me, but who needed me to help them overcome trauma, life circumstances, etc. Am I ‘special’ for having the ability to help these men rebuild their lives? No. Not at all. That’s just what I think I HAVE to do in order for them to be committed to me…love me…need me…want me. As you know, this has worked great so far. Blech.

Then, the Poobah pointed this out to me: “Why don’t you date guys who are more educated and professional?” I never thought about this but I don’t. Hubby 3 has a GED which he easily got without having to brush up on anything and is so so so smart mechanically that it’s scary what he can do. J flunked out of the couple classes he took at community college (he used to like to correct my grammar…it pissed me off royally just because it’s rude and was un-neccesary). Look, it’s not that I’m worthier (for lack of a better word that doesn’t sound pretentious which I’m NOT trying to be) than these guys because of my degrees and profession…no…I truly believe we all have our special souls that were created for us…and that we are all worthy and equal in terms of our humanity. The Poobah was simply saying I needed to find men that were interested in academia…had the means to travel…had financial security…didn’t need me, but wanted me. Men who didn’t need ‘fixed’ but wanted a forever. Hmmm.

So, back to the original question: why is it so hard to treat ourselves like we do others? I have forgiven men some pretty bad things but can’t forgive myself for almost everything. I’ve been kind to people yet mean to myself. I have compassion for people who are hurting or sick, but get angry when I’m suffering because I think I had to have done something to bring it on. I empathize and understand so deeply when others are grappling with a mental illness with accompanying behavior, but ‘hate’ myself for having one too.

I need to stop this. We all do. We need to be kind to ourselves. Compassionate. Forgiving. We need to talk to ourselves positively and try to over-write the years we haven’t. We need to build ourselves up…recognize our gifts. We need to embrace who we are, flaws and all, like we do with others. We need to show pride in who we are…not shame. We need to tell ourselves we are valuable just because we are who we are which means we don’t have to prove anything or change anyone or give all we have to others simply for their ‘love’. We are enough. It’s not conceit. It’s not selfishness. It’s the same consideration we have for those in our lives that we deny ourselves. We deny it to the one person we will live with forever. That will always be with us. Why can’t that voice be the one that raises us up?

Kristi xoxo

“You can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.” ~ Stephen King

So, the Grand Poobah and I were yacking in our office today and started discussing our own personal goals of being a professor. This came about as we were comparing notes on how many students have seriously struggled this semester due to the continuing issues with the pandemic, stress, job loss, loneliness, anxiety, depression and the list goes on. When he asked me: “Why do you teach? What are your goals for what you do?” I really started thinking about this and within a couple of minutes, I had the answer. Not because I was being flip, but because these ‘unwritten’ goals have guided me throughout my 27 year career as a college instructor.

If you look up the word ‘goal’ in a dictionary (remember when these weren’t online but tomes that weighed more than a medium sized dog? 😳) here’s what you get: ‘The object of a person’s ambition or effort; an aim or desired result.’ (Oxford Languages) What do I want to accomplish with my students? What is my desire for them? Why do I put in the effort I do for them?

First, as simple as it sounds, I want my students to learn. You would think this is a no-brainer but not necessarily. Learning isn’t memorization or meeting stringent deadlines or making sure a text is highlighted or being able to bullshit your way through an essay for a passing grade. Unfortunately, not every professor agrees with this. Throughout the years, I’ve heard things like “We need to teach these kids what it’s like to punch a time clock.” Or, “We need to force these kids to take responsibility…there are no handouts in life” (hmmmm). Or “These kids just need to listen to me for what they need to know.” Or my favorite “You don’t get second chances in life!” OK. And you are on your 8th spouse. Got it. And this list can go on ad nauseum.

Here’s the thing though: I don’t care if it takes a student 1 try or 4 tries to get an essay up to par; it’s that they learned from writing it. What good does it do to put an F on their paper, give it back to them, and then want them to move on in the class? What did they learn? Look, when I learned to crochet (which was a hellish month for both me and sissy to say the least 😐), it took me a thousand tries to know how to work the hook and create the chain and complete stitches. And even then, my projects sucked balls. If I would have stopped after the first try, what would that have gotten me? Nothing.

So why don’t we allow students to absorb the material, have multiple chances on their assignments if they aren’t getting it, and work with them until they do? My job is not to teach a student to ‘punch a time-clock’ in order for them to understand that deadlines are set in stone (many are working jobs or have families…they know deadlines). In fact, in this day and age, many jobs are more flexible than that anyway. My job is to make sure they leave my class with info that will help them in any path they choose.

This ties in to my 2nd goal – to do all I can to help a student be successful in my classes. I have a student who is around my age (shutty 🙄) and she came to me around 4 weeks into the semester and said she was going to drop and that she couldn’t ‘do’ the class. I started talking to her every morning before class and one day, this woman started crying. She’s had a very hard life in terms of all she’s experienced, but this is what she said to me that completely broke my heart: “All my life, since I can remember, my mom said I was a piece of shit and would never do good at anything.”

When she disclosed this to me, her eyes were full of tears and it made me sick to think of a mother being so wickedly cruel to their child. This student hadn’t turned in our first essay of the semester and I told her to write it. She said she couldn’t. I said: “Write it. I don’t care how long it is…how many errors might be in it…how you approach the topic. Just write.” She turned it in a couple of days later and I was gobsmacked! It was freaking excellent…and I don’t use that word lightly. Her ideas and understanding of the material was deeper than most students and her writing was impeccable. I posted her A and she came to me the next day and said this: “You didn’t have to give me an A.” And I replied: “Look, I don’t give anything and I certainly have never given a pity or mercy grade in my life. In my classes, you earn your grades and you earned this A.”

Then I did this: “I looked in her eyes and said: you are a smart, kind, outgoing woman who has the tools to be successful in anything you choose to pursue. You are not a piece of shit. Your mom was a sick woman who used her innocent daughter as an outlet for her own issues. That is not who you are. Now say it to me.” She cried and said she couldn’t. I said: “Look, Professor K is telling you to do this and you know how tough I am!” She smiled, looked down and said…in a soft voice: “I’m not a piece of shit. I am capable.” I told her to say it again while looking in my eyes and she did. In the last 11 weeks, her confidence, participation, and eagerness has done a 180° turn and she went from an F in my class to an A.

When she told me she was going to drop, I could have had that done in seconds. For piss sakes, if she wants to drop…drop her. No. Because that’s not my goal. My goal is for every student to feel like they accomplished something in my class…had a success they can build on…had a worthwhile experience. By the way, she calls me ‘Mama K’ in my office (even though she’s just a tad older!) and hugs me every. single. day. She, my sweetie peeps, is a success.

Another goal I have is to be relatable. I’ve been in higher education longer than some of you have been alive and I’m here to tell you this: some professors get off on this power trip of having students’ grades in their sweaty palms. They get off on ‘taking control’ and being the ‘only one right’ and ordering ‘quit talking…you need to listen to me.’ They get off on the power. So ooooooooo…you have power over 20 year olds. Big accomplishment.

If I had wanted power, I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone into teaching and if the only thing that validates my profession is the control I have over my students, I have deeper issues that need to be addressed.

I don’t necessarily expect my students to love me…or to even like me. But I do want to set up an atmosphere where they know they can talk to me, share their opinions, question what I’m saying, all while knowing I won’t judge them no matter what. Have you ever had someone ask for your opinion and then chastise you for it by saying ‘that’s wrong.’ What? How can MY opinion be wrong? It can’t. And neither can yours.

This is also why I share my experiences (obviously when appropriate) about having bipolar, having been sexually abused, having been divorced 3 times (cough cough), having a ma who experienced domestic violence, etc. I want students to know I’m real. I understand. I’ll accept whatever they want to tell me. I want them to see me as an ‘ally’ in their college experience…someone working alongside of them…not against them.

This also brings me to compassion. I want my students to see I’ll cry with them…open up to them so they know they aren’t alone in their own struggles…empathize with issues they are dealing with…understand when they say “I just couldn’t do my assignment this week”, etc. I had a student come to me once regarding their late work and I told them they could make up what they had missed. Why? He had talked about a death in his family all while he was dealing with the loss of a job and family issues surrounding the funeral. He thanked me profusely for this opportunity and said he felt guilty for turning in late assignments. I said there should be no guilt whatsoever! That’s a lot on his plate and I wouldn’t have been able to focus on the topic of social structure either. C’mon. Why is it weak for professors to have compassion for what our students are going through?

Some professors have this policy: “NO LATE WORK NO MATTER WHAT.” Really? I kid you not but I knew a professor years ago that wouldn’t let a student make up an exam they missed because they had suffered a miscarriage that week. The prof said: “A deadline is a deadline. I break it for you, I break it for everyone.”

Are you fucking (sorry, ma 😲) kidding me? A fucking (ditto, ma 🤨) exam is more important than this woman losing her baby? I was gobsmacked and so disgusted by this (and yes, told the student to talk to our dean) I wanted to say this: “Look, Prof. You know what you just taught this student? That their pain doesn’t matter. Their loss doesn’t matter. Their life doesn’t matter. All that matters is a fucking (last one, ma 😬) date you arbitrarily put on a syllabus.” Yep. That taught them a lot.

Why can’t we all have compassion for our students? Understand that life gets in the way of due dates…assignments…studying. I remember O being sick and his school calling me at school to come pick him up. I shot off a quick e-mail to my students saying classes were cancelled and when I was running out the door, one of my colleagues said this: “Must be nice to just up and leave work because you have a kid.” And I responded with: “Look. My kid is forever and this is a job. My family will always come first.” If I had been a student, not much would have been turned in that week…O ended up getting pneumonia. So, if I would have missed a quiz, I would have been told ‘too bad’? Yes…by some profs.

Look, compassion is one of these things that you give back what you get. If I show compassion and empathy and true care for my students, I’m teaching them a lesson more important than understanding the 3 theoretical perspectives of sociology: that we have to take care of one another.

Other goals I have? I want to show my students how applicable the material is…how they can actually use it in their everyday lives. I want to be adaptable in terms of what students and classes need in any given semester. I want them to know it’s not my classroom…it’s theirs. It’s a student centered environment where they are the ones in the spotlight. It’s not the Professor K show.

It sounds like a cliche but actually, cliches are often based in truth: one bad professor can ruin a student’s college life. You think that woman who miscarried wanted to walk into another classroom after that? You think if I would have dropped that student she would have continued her studies still believing the words her mom heaped on her? You think if I played the power card and said “No…you cannot re-do that paper to pass” that student is going to be motivated? I love what I do. I take it seriously. And, I do it the way I do it because I care. Because I want students to walk out of my classes with not only the academics, but lessons in life, compassion, open mindedness, respect and a love for learning that can take them as far as they want to go.

Kristi xoxo