I love running.
My wife thinks I run too much, and this is probably true.
But that doesn’t deter me.
I find it a great way to collect my thoughts, process through the day and relieve some stress.
Most of these posts are formulated on my runs.
A few years back, though, I suffered a stress fracture.
It kept me out for months, and when I was finally able to return to running, I found that I wasn’t anywhere near the shape is was in before my injury.
Nevertheless, I signed up for a marathon, determined to reconnect with the pavement as I had before. I gave myself only a few months to get back in shape. And though I was doing enough miles, my pace was slower than I wanted.
On a freezing day in November, I stepped up the starting line in Richmond, Virginia, and took off.
I felt surprisingly good the first half the race. I thought, for those first few miles, that I’d cheated the system. I hurried back from injury, and I was still running well.
By Mile 16, I was done. I was shuffling along. I kept looking at my watch, wondering when the pain would end.
I had rushed my training. And if there’s one thing about running, it’s that there are no short cuts.
It simply cannot be rushed.
I was recently reading the late Eugene H. Peterson’s spiritual commentary Eat This Book. And in that book, he draws this same conclusion about hurry — this time in the context of spiritual formation — from Wendell Berry’s poem “From the Crest.” Berry is talking about farming. But look at how closely Peterson’s interpretation of the poem fits with education:
“Farmers characteristically work hard, but there is too much work to do to be in a hurry. On a farm, everything is connected both in place and in time. Nothing is done that isn’t connected to something else; if you get in a hurry, break the rhythms of the land and the seasons and the weather, things fall apart – you get in the way of something set in motion last week or month. A farm is not neat – there is too much going on that is out of your control.”
Eugene H. peterson in Eat This Book
“A farm is not neat – there is too much going on that is out of your control.”
Any educator ever felt that way before?
But before that, Peterson gives an exhortation: Do not hurry!
Because when you do, things fall apart.
It’s tempting sometimes.
You’ve been teaching the same content for a week, and students just aren’t getting it.
You keep addressing the same struggles in reading or writing, and there isn’t any noticeable improvement.
Student behavior or interest isn’t getting better; it’s getting worse.
Standardized tests are coming up. Maybe I can hammer these concepts into my students’ heads instead of having them discover and explore themselves.
Like my Richmond Marathon, you might knock out 15 miles and still feel pretty good.
But when you start limping along at Mile 16, those last 10 miles become really long.
Trust me, I’ve been there.
Limping toward the end of the school year.
Wishing I’d been a bit more patient in the early going.
I have to remind myself sometimes to play the long game.
To patiently move students along at their own pace, pushing them, but not frustrating them through a sense of urgency.
And resist the temptation to hurry.