3/19/2021 0 Comments First EducationMy High School Chemistry teacher Mr. Romberger, my high school chemistry teacher, was a gentleman from another age. This was in the early 1960s, which already feels like generations ago. He was always well dressed in a jacket and tie (common in those days), except when he put on his lab coat to do experiments at the front of the room. Then, he was like Bill Ney, the science guy. He made substances change colors, did strange things with dry ice, and showed us how to measure precisely. He was not harsh, but always demanding and particular. His expectations of all of us were the same – “I expect each student to earn an A. I don’t grade on a curve.” His frequent tests were difficult but fair. For example, we had to memorize the periodic table of the elements with perfect spelling of all the elements. I learned about flashcards and studied them on my daily train rides to school. Recently, I had a conversation and the word “rigor” came up. I reflected on this word and, seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Romberger came to mind. I took internal note that what I would call my “first education”, from birth to finishing college, was sorely lacking in rigor. I found the definition of “rigor” on the web and discovered it had two meanings. The first was the one I had used throughout my first education and it meant inflexible or even dead, as in rigor mortis. Unknowingly, I had resisted a disciplined, structured and intentional approach to almost everything in my young life. I can see now how this lack of rigor, lack of structure was reflected in my posture including walking, as well as my schooling. I tended to take the easy way as often as possible, thus unknowingly, blocking myself from deeper learning. I had missed the crucial aspect of second definition – that rigor brings a worthy and necessary challenge to go more deeply into the subject matter as well as myself. During my first education, I was not expected to do chores at home. Although this was done from a place of kindness from my parents, I currently do not recommend this approach for inculcating good values in a child. Chores can be a great help towards learning responsibilities and skills, as well as participating in a greater vision of life, especially if they are presented and received in the right spirit. l grew up in an apartment in NYC and there was not much to actually do that required my participation. No chores like cutting the lawn, no pets that needed to be walked (ok, a parakeet), and being the younger of two brothers, no one else to care for. I don’t even remember having to properly make my bed on a regular basis. A taste of rigor I went to a public high school (Stuyvesant) for boys with an aptitude for math and science. In my junior year, I took my second year of chemistry with Mr. Romberger. November was the month for parent-teacher conferences, and my parents and I drove into Manhattan from Queens. I was a good “enough” student but not at the top of the class. When we visited Mr. Romberger, who was in the chemistry lab still smelling of hydrogen sulfide (rotten eggs), he politely said hello and looked at my parents and then at me. He said one line that I have remembered for my entire life “He does what he must, but what he mustn’t he doesn’t”. He went on to explain what he meant but I really didn’t get it. The next day I had a private conversation with him and asked what he meant. He told me that I duck the hard stuff, and thus have not learned to stick with it and get to the other side. I told him that I still did not really get what he was saying. A few days later, he called me to his office and gave me an application for the NYC chemistry competition, a multiple-choice test that might lead to scholarships. He said that some of the students will already have completed two years of chemistry, and I had only completed one. This would put me at a distinct disadvantage. In addition, the test would also utilize college level chemistry that none of the students would know about. “Want to give it a try - completely up to you?” He had thrown down the gauntlet to a budding, competitive adolescent. He then told me that the test was given on Saturday at the school, a one-hour train ride, and the test would take most of the day. Although this part did not sound appealing (I Iiked being “free” on the weekends), he had touched just the right nerve. I said yes. I asked him if there was anything I could do to prepare. He said that the best preparation for a test like this was to get a good night’s sleep and arrive on time. The Test The morning of the test, I got on the train. It felt different to be on the train on a Saturday, quieter with fewer people than the weekdays. I brought my chemistry book and my elements flash cards although, based on what he said, I doubted that they would be helpful. Students from all around the City were there. I was a junior and the seniors seemed MUCH older and I assumed wiser. The tests were given out and the proctors walked throughout the auditorium. I opened up the test pamphlet, and the very first question flummoxed me. It had something to do with Avogadro’s number and the number of units in one mole. I did not have a clue what this question meant. I did feel like running out of the room, but I decided to put my pencil down and simply take a few breaths and look around. A simple but clear thought then occurred to me. I should go through the test and answer all the questions that I could, and then come back to ones that were difficult. And that is what I did. The test was in timed sections so no point to get stuck on what I did not know. Somewhere around an hour into the test, something happened within me. I became actually curious about the questions, even the hard ones. It was so different for me to have this open-minded approach yet structured approach, even with the questions that I lacked some of the basic information. That I knew something or didn’t know something mattered less than the actual experience of thinking it through. I would work through my answers and, on some occasions, even on the difficult questions, the answer I arrived at would be one of the choices. Whether it was actually correct or not, I could not know. The test ended in the afternoon. To my delight I was highly energized, even exuberant as I took the train home. I told my parents that it was a great test and a great day. “It was as if my brain cells all worked together.” I suggested we all go out and celebrate by eating Chinese food. (I was 16!). They asked if I thought I might have won the contest. (Such a perfect question from loving Jewish parents!) I told them that there was no chance whatsoever, but perhaps for the first time in my life, I was thinking differently. On Monday, I found Mr. Romberger and told him my experience. He smiled and said “Ah, the experiment was a “success”. PostScript – When the results were published, I found my name in the middle of the pack. I felt a genuine pride in having done my very best, and had really learned something of value. Next blog – Second Education – Age, 21-40
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Almost two years had passed since we joined LaSalette. In addition to all the other community activities, we became Eucharistic Ministers. The Eucharist, the body and blood of Christ, is at the heart of the Christian mystery, the Christian story. During Mass, one by one, a line of people come to receive this gift. When I had the opportunity to give out communion, I sometimes felt that line stretched out over the entire globe and also back into history. Each person arrived as present as possible and I felt the call to reciprocate. It was always a joy-filled and powerful experience for me. In March, 2001, right after my 54th birthday, I decided it was the right time for me to be fully and “legitimately” baptized. There was no pressure whatsoever from anyone. I called Father Tom, the spiritual advisor to the community, whom I liked a great deal. I told him my story, about my first baptism etc. Father Tom suggested that we make it a private baptism at our house with a small group. It would be more intimate and a little less confusing to some in the congregation who had no idea I had never been formally baptized. I preferred it that way also. I asked Father Tom what I needed to do to prepare. He said that the two years I had been with LaSalette was the best possible preparation. Still, I wanted some kind of “formal” preparation and he agreed to come to our house for a chat. He told me that, traditionally, adult baptism is the outside sign of an inward change that had already occurred. Tom also reminded me that I was not being baptized into the LaSalette Faith Community, but the entire Catholic Church. I thought it quite marvelous to be connected to over a billion people spread across the earth. As it turned out later, there was indeed truth in this thought. There was a very funny moment (to me) during Tom’s visit. We were in our sunroom, surrounded by nature. Tom sat on a rocking chair. Catherine and I, plus our dogs and cats, were on the couches. Tom mentioned that he was not quite at ease with animals. Our most friendly cat, very appropriately named Joseph, jumped off the couch and onto Tom’s lap and began happily purring. I was quite proud of Tom as he seamlessly continued his talk with Joseph snuggling in. It later turned out that every October, for ten years at the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, we had a blessing of the animals at our farm. Father Tom was always one of the celebrants who blessed all sorts of critters including dogs, cats, horses, guinea pigs, rabbits and so on. I like to think that he had a kind of “baptism” himself that day. As I have pondered the meaning of Christ, and also being Catholic, for the past twenty years, my understanding is that Christ is the energy of connection. It is not me, in my usual sense of myself, that connects to the vast universe with all its creatures, human and otherwise. My job, so to speak, is to value this connection and do my best to allow Christ in. One of the LaSalette community members, when giving out communion, would often say, “Receive who you are, the body of Christ. This always resonated deeply with me. In addition to be baptized I also agreed to be confirmed. Father Tom told me I needed a sponsor for confirmation. I asked him what the requirements were for a sponsor. He laughed and said “Since you have arrived at baptism through a somewhat unconventional and backdoor route, it would certainly be a good idea if your sponsor was already a practicing Catholic. Also, your sponsor will there to guide and support you throughout your life.” Instantly, I thought of my mother-in-law (I called her Babci - the Polish word for grandma). From the time I met her, Babci and I formed a mutual admiration club. She was my favorite (and only) mother-in-law, and I was her favorite (and only) son-in law. Her quiet devotion, her remarkable good cheer, her sense of service and, of course, her delicious meals had been a subtle yet profound influence on me for the past 25 years. After Father Tom left, I called her and told her the requirements. I said I could vouch for her being a good Catholic woman. But since she was now in her 80s, would she be able to support and guide me for the rest of my life? Without skipping a beat, she said “Oh David, whenever you need me just look up and I’ll be watching out for you.” On June 9th, in our own backyard, on a sunny 80-degree day, I was officially baptized and confirmed by Father Tom. It was a very small gathering with Catherine, Babci, Grampy (my father-in-law), three of my reunion group brothers and their wives, Christina (a college roommate of Liz who was living with us at the time), her boyfriend Dan (the perfect “stranger” who just showed up at the right time) and Beverly, the woman who had first introduced us to the LaSalette community. Liz, our daughter, was in the Peace Corps and living in Paraguay. Bodhi, our latest dog, a slightly geriatric border collie representing the animal kingdom placed himself under the picnic table that served as an altar. The “music” was provided by our chickens and ducks who were clucking and quacking, as well as the local birds. The ceremony consisted of Mass, baptism, and confirmation. I looked around and saw the deep joy of Christ in the faces that were there. As had happened to me now hundreds of times, I received the whole experience emotionally. I saw and breathed in the deep green colors and smells of the earth, the sunlight pouring through the large maple tree, our black and white Bodhi under the picnic table, the red wine, my white baptismal / confirmation robe, and Father Tom, the wonderful priest whose presence at LaSalette had opened me to new ways of understanding Christ and the deepest energy in myself. I chose the name Francis for my confirmation name. It is Catherine’s middle name, my mother-in-law’s first name, Liz’s confirmation name, my sister-in-law’s confirmation name and, of course, St. Francis, the lover of all creatures. Bob, one of my reunion brothers bought me a beautiful cross from the San Damiano church where Christ first spoke to Francis. I loved this cross because I had seen it many times in the movie Brother Sun, Sister Moon. I found a place on the wall in our bedroom so I could visit every morning. It is still there, now 20 years later reminding me that I am part of a very deep and beautiful tradition of the human species that, in spite of many deviations, has brought great joy and healing to the human adventure. Note: This completes this sequence of blogs on “Becoming Catholic”. More blogs on other topics to come. |
David FeldmanDog walker, Dog Mediator, Father, Husband, Categories |