THANKS FOR THE MEMORY

We lived at 224 East Savidge Street during my childhood. Ian Lawton of Christ Community Church now preaches in the general vicinity of where our family kitchen once existed. I walked to Holmes school everyday and, on occasion, had time to walk home for lunch in those days.

I can still recall the names of all my elementary teachers. School was a comfortable place for me. Mrs. Fothergill taught one of several fifth grade classes in 1963 and I was fortunate to be among the 30 students in her class. I remember only a few things about that year, however.

One of her requirements was that each student invests in a quality fountain pen for her penmanship lessons. She wanted us to master the art of cursive penmanship and an appropriate tool for the trade was essential. I’m not convinced, however, that my motor skills ever developed to sustain the high expectations she maintained for me. Let’s just say that math remained my favorite subject.

I can’t reflect upon that year without a vivid recall of the frozen moment on November 23 when news of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy was shared with the student body. We were stunned. I’ll never forget the broadcast throughout the new high school where fifth grade band students were preparing to rehearse.

One other significant fifth grade event remains lodged in my memory. Mrs. Fothergill invited her students to her house for a Christmas party. This lady was okay! She actually had a life outside of Holmes School and was willing to share part of it with us. We were asked to get dressed up for the evening and enjoy a few hours in her home--so cool.

It was the recall of that event, not any great penmanship lesson, which prompted me to begin a tradition when I started teaching: my home would be open to my class for a holiday gathering each year. And once again, students will join the Chittenden family on Brown Lane in Spring Lake for a special Christmas potluck next Thursday evening.

Mrs. Fothergill’s penmanship passion didn’t seem to help me much (I decided to take typing in summer school after sixth grade). However, her lesson of selfless benevolence and holiday cheer reminds me to “pay it forward” this time of year. If you think you can survive a flash to the past, click HERE to view a photo of her class online. Be careful, you might just find someone you know. Happy holidays!

FROM A DISTANCE

I think the forest is often more beautiful than the trees. However, any journey through the woods requires an occasional encounter with a few trees. And it’s those random encounters that really do put a fresh spin on reality.

A friend called last week to tell me their family is looking for another church to attend. The specific details need not be revealed, but they had become another refugee of the church our family once attended and the inquiry prompted a consensus that things aren’t always what they appear to be.

Shelby and I extended our return trip home from the cabin to enjoy the autumnal colors of west Michigan on Saturday. From a distance, the landscapes appeared as a collage of random color. The picturesque beauty seemed unmatched, but this teacher knows it lingers only a few weeks in the environmental life cycle of an ecosystem. The next day, a wind-chilled bike ride under those same trees and over leaf-covered sidewalks rendered a much different impression.
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Jeff and I visited a local congregation last weekend for the sake of seeing several students participate in their worship. The homiletic dialogue that pursued that evening focused on sacred-secular issues relating to music in the church. My take was that it was an attempt to provide a liberal viewpoint of tolerance for all music. I presume their God is an idle observer, watching from a distance, unable to hear the lyrics of some very morally offensive music.

On those rare occasions when my classroom management techniques are flagging or both students and teacher are stressed beyond imagination, I’m forced to acknowledge that it is not going to be the right time to accomplish much together and that I need to step back to a comfortable distance and redesign my lesson plans. Removing the blinders really does improve my peripheral vision.

Next week I have two former students (now adults) visiting my classroom to represent the Republican and Democratic viewpoints of the upcoming presidential election. Mike and Jen will undoubtedly provide a close encounter with the candidates. As for me, if politics don’t look better at a distance these days, I don’t know what does.

Although VH1 considers it the thirty-seventh worst song ever written, Bette Midler said it long before I did: at a distance, things often look better than they do upon closer inspection. Personally, I liked the song musically; however, the theology of her chorus suggests that God, too, is a distant observer—wrong. Fortunately the message of the incarnation is that God is WITH us. And with so much of my perspective at a macro level these days, I’m comforted that his is much more up close and personal.

THE POWER OF E

It’s back to the future in recent weeks. School is in session and I have the pleasure of working with an exceptional community of 28 fifth grade students at Lake Hills Elementary School. They are our future! And in preparing for this academic year, several words beginning with the same letter emerged in my planning.

Even for me, the energy required to engage in learning is something I no longer take for granted. It’s hard to get started some days. This engagement is truly volitional, an act of our free will. We choose to be engaged learners (or not). Are you eager to begin? Are you ready to turn on you “ignition switch” and to start your engine? These are key questions I ask my students (and myself).

Once students engage their engine, then they are ready to explore. Now they can journey where “no one has gone before.” Sure, I guide them in those explorations, but each learning trek is unique as each individual. Like Lewis and Clark and their motley Corp of Discovery, the journey requires qualified leadership. Teachers are that decisive element in the classroom, but they need help from parents who team in the exploration.

Another vital component of learning includes the ability to express yourself—communicating what you have learned and, in turn, educating others. I believe that exceptional learning communities provide a reciprocal function of teaching and learning. Kids are teachers, too! This key element of expression—simple or elaborate—
gives students considerable ownership and responsibility for their learning.

Lastly, parents and schools must be compelled to create opportunities for all children to excel. We must equip children to make a positive difference in the citizens they become. President Bush recently challenged us against the soft bigotry of low expectation. Isn’t it about time we really embrace the challenge of equipping ALL children for our future? If we can believe that none of us is as smart as all of us, then we are well on our way toward that goal.

BOB THE BUILDER

He would be 92 years old today. The middle child of seven to Emmons and Bernice, Bob was born in the family farmhouse in 1912. The growing Chittenden family grew up on a large parcel of farmland on the northeast corner of 152nd Avenue and Leonard Road. Bob and his 5 brothers and 1 sister spent most of their lives in the Spring Lake area.

A favorite photo of my father is one taken in the early 1930’s with his youngest brother, Edward. Family was always important to him and he loved his little brother. It was only after his death in 1996 that I discovered this photograph. Dad lived with prostate cancer for nearly 7 years and died in the hospital on a Sunday morning with Jeffrey and myself at his bedside.

I suppose it was quite natural for my dad to take interest in a farm girl from Iowa who had moved to Michigan in the 1930’s. I visited Humboldt, Iowa, for the first time last summer and enjoyed an afternoon of library research and locating the land my grandmother and mother owned and managed prior to moving to Muskegon. My dad and mom returned to her Humboldt roots to get married in the family home on Sunday, August 11, 1940.

He always loved mechanical devices, including the automobile, and is often pictured alongside a favorite car. Dad wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. In the 1950’s his mechanical aptitude led him to develop a semi-automatic pinsetter for the restaurant/bowling alley he and my uncle owned...Brunswick was interested. The Idle Hour still operates today as a favorite restaurant gathering for Spring Lake folk. Some of the pinboys who worked for my dad still provide fascinating stories of their first jobs as teenagers.

Bob and Margaret gave birth to their first child, Bonnie, but the delivery was difficult, and Bonnie died shortly after her birth in 1951. After receiving word from Judge Jacob Ponstein that a baby boy was available, they adopted me at 3 weeks old in April 1953. To their surprise, mom became pregnant and delivered a healthy baby girl, Dawn, a year later.

We moved into the village of Spring Lake in the late 50’s. The large McKinley home at 224 East Savidge became available for $16,000. The neighborhood was populated by young families providing a great childhood playground for Dawn and myself. In August of 1959, my sister and I were the first children to attend Sunday School at the newly established Wesleyan Methodist Church. Pastor Ron Smeenge and his family were wonderful neighbors for nearly a decade.

Dad loved to build. Although his formal education was limited to eighth grade, the skills he learned in trim carpentry from his father and Uncle Dewey would follow him throughout his life. The lumber yard was like a second home at times. Dad became one of the first builders to develop South and North Holiday Hills for Rycenga Homes and continued working with me as a carpenter when our home was built in 1987. He was working on a special project for the Wesleyan Church a week before he passed away in 1996.

We celebrate his life today. We remember his contributions to his family, his church, his village. Bob Chittenden was a builder beyond hammer and nails. He constructed relationships and memories that remain nearly a century beyond his humble farmhouse birth. Thanks, Dad. We love you!

LET FREEDOM RING

The Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 was reauthorized in 2001 and is now called No Child Left Behind. Although the debate is intense among parents, teachers, administrators, and legislators, few would argue that NCLB has completely reshaped the federal government's role in American education.

Introduced as the first legislative initiative of President George W. Bush, the final bill received overwhelming bipartisan support. The irony, however, of a Republican president signing into law a bill that dramatically increases the national regulation of public education remains a mystery to me. Whatever happened to the Republican tenets of small government and local school autonomy?

It is this topic of federalization that disturbs me most as a parent, an educator, and a citizen of the United States. Historically, education is primarily a State and local responsibility. Federal contributions to national education expenditures are typically less than 10%. Their role was never intended to be more than an "emergency response system" of sorts. Oh, how times have changed!

Just this week I received an email informing our teaching staff that beginning in 2005, the federal government expects all students in Michigan to be tested from grades 3-8 in reading and mathematics. Testing in other content areas will follow. Well, this educator is hardly jumping up and down with joy over another federal mandate.

The federal government is also beginning to require schools to demonstrate that they are making adequate yearly progress (AYP). The entire altruistic premise of AYP is to ordain the years 2013-14 as the school year in which ALL children in America will meet NCLB academic proficiencies. And why was this holy year of universal achievement chosen? Don't get me wrong. I truly believe ALL students can learn; but not all students achieve success on the same day and in the same way.

Schools that fail to show AYP are made known to the public in some misguided approach to eradicate non-productive teaching and learning. In actuality, AYP is primarily determined by criterion-referenced tests based on state-determined standards. The process is complex, expensive, and unworkable.

Public schools are not the sole provider of education. Writer George Will reminds us that from birth to age nineteen, ninety-one percent of a child's life will be spent outside the boundaries of a schoolhouse. Does anyone in congress recognize this reality? Although nearly blasphemous, my motto for many parents and students echoes Mark Twain's edict "don't let school interfere with your education." Schools can't do it all!

Not all schools are created equal. Poverty, crime, abuse, and a plethora of social problems abound in many dysfunctional pockets of American culture. Kids coming from these settings are not as prepared to learn and require considerably more inspiration on the part of educators to create an attitude for learning. NCLB doesn't take into consideration the reality of a world of haves and have-nots.

Bottom line--I think Americans are asking for their schools back. We don't need federal government micromanaging our curriculum and creating an uncontrollable web of accountability measures. Free us from the tyranny of testing! Return to us the responsibility of creating caring, local communities of learners where no child is truly left behind. Let freedom ring once again for American schools.

MEMORIAL DAZE

I didn’t know how to respond to the news. The memory of my dad passing away eight years ago on May 28 was just a topic of discussion a few weeks ago. Now, the sad events of another May 28 begin with a phone call early Friday evening.

I first heard of Martin about 11 years ago when I began a search for more information about my biological parents. Prior to this time I had only non-identifying information from the courts about my adoption. A long time friend of mine, also an adult adoptee, invited my to attend a meeting of the Adoption Identity Movement in Grand Rapids. With his encouragement and the support of my family, I proceeded with having a legal intermediary secure identifying information from the county court records.

A few weeks later I granted permission to begin the search for both my birth parents. It was just a matter of a few days when information about Margaret and Martin became available. My biological mother had been found and informed, for the first time, that the child she gave birth to in 1953 was a boy.

In April 1993, I met Margaret and a half-brother who had been residing in my hometown for years. I also spoke with a half-sister in California. I remember telling my adoptive father about the reunions and agreeing that we should not share the details with my adoptive mother.

Martin lived in Florida. Although a letter I wrote was forwarded to him through the legal intermediary, he was not willing to acknowledge that he was my birth father, and returned the letter and copy of the original birth certificate. It was a response the Adoption Identity Movement considered typical and not surprising to me. I could accept his denial.

The most positive result of these search efforts, however, was the opportunity to meet and establish a good relationship with Martin’s son who lives in Zeeland, Michigan. My half brother, Ron, and our families have enjoyed several Thanksgiving dinners and countless snowmobiling adventures in Newaygo county in recent years.

So when Ron called me last Friday evening, May 28, I wasn’t sure how to respond to the news. His 89-year old father had passed away in Florida just a few hours earlier. Martin’s body will be flown back to Holland after the holiday weekend and arrangements for a funeral this Thursday were announced.

Although slightly dazed, I will go to the funeral this Thursday to support my brother and his family. Disappointed and sad? A little, but not because of the my choices or action--and for that matter, not for the decisions made some 50 years ago...but more on that topic later. For now, my condolence to the friends and family of Martin VanderVliet.

TAKING ON THE GIANTS

Jeff and I decided to wear our Rycenga Building Center shirts on a small family remodeling project recently. Maybe it was our quiet way of "taking on the giant" Home Depot which opens in Grand Haven this week. It just seems that we are slightly opposed to the entire mega-whatever these days.

Whether it's the mega-lumber yard, the mega-bookstore, the mega-grocery store, or the mega-church, we just hope that the independent and smaller businesses/organizations continue to thrive in spite of the competition.

If I walk into Rycenga Building Center, these guys know my name. Maybe it's because my dad worked alongside brothers Charles and Louis Rycenga four decades ago when trains delivered lumber to the yards and people like Mart Timmerman hand wrote your next order. Anyway, I still enjoy my trips into "the lumber yard" these days--especially when Rich Koetje tells me stories about my dad. This family-owned business has found a niche of catering to the special needs of homeowners and builders. Got any more of those RBC shirts for my students?

Our friend Karen DeCan recently told me about the wonderful fellowship at Nortonville Gospel Chapel, a small congregation in Spring Lake Township that doesn't necessarily consider expansion or property procurement as the cure for problems. Some studies show that small churches grow relative to large ones because they are healthier. In fact, some quality factors like assimilation into small groups and ministry roles rate much higher among small churches. Members of the mega-church seem to have a more consumer attitude toward their church than do members of smaller congregations. How come every time I drive by a sprawling church campus I get this "franchise feeling" of sorts?

I do frequent Barnes & Noble bookstores on occasion, but I really believe that the competition from these national efforts has not overshadowed the "mom and pop" stores. If they are careful, stores like the Bookman can create an identity unique from the chains. As for the Starbucks coffee, I'd much rather enjoy the house blend at River Stop Café in Newaygo. The one hundred year old building seems to be one of those places "where everyone knows your name."

Reaching down into the local markets and culture is what small business does well. They are able to hand pick their employees and offer exemplary customer service. In contrast, the revolving door staff of large merchants and even large churches seems to clash with local culture. I guess I will always enjoy walking into a place where the boss occasionally waits on me. Oh, did I mention that I really enjoyed Pastor Russ Carlson playing piano on Easter Sunday?

A LESSON IN COUNTERPOINT

During an independent study of music theory in high school, I learned the importance of counterpoint in good musical composition. For centuries composers have captured the ability to superimpose two or more melodies into a single harmonic pattern without losing the linear character of a composition. Whether it is the organ music of J.S. Bach or the black gospel music of today, rhythmic and melodic counterpoint creates essential harmonic texture.

Just last week, my son watched a videotape featuring a song, "The Lord is With You," a moving proclamation and counterpoint between Gabriel, Mary, and Joseph. It was just one of many beautiful settings in a Passion play--The Glory of Easter--which focused on the belief that we reflect God's glory and that Christ came to give us back our heart, fully alive, and set us free. Free to worship Him.

The Lenten season was once a time in which our family was actively involved in this Passion play alongside three to four hundred other children, youth, and adults. In the course of six weeks, the cast and crew spent hundreds of hours weaving their talents--instrumentalists, singers, actors, designers, carpenters, electricians, painters, costumers, graphic artists, teachers, technicians, et al. All branches connected to the same vine experiencing the reality of fellowship.

A musical play of this scope always employed the time, talent, and energy of hundreds. And over 4000 people typically witnessed the Passion play during Holy Week. Surprisingly, after more than a decade of creating an opportunity for people to serve, a decision was made to discontinue this ministry.

Sadly, many lay people remain unemployed, that is, in the ministry of their church. Churches often hire the professional to assume the work of the laity, and in doing so promote a myth of excellence. Author Rick Warren suggests that it would be better to "involve thousands of regular folks in ministry than have a perfect church run by a few elites." Unemployment lines were not present in the first century church.

Ironically, it was the people least involved--the professional ministry team--that recommended discontinuing the lay-employed Passion play. And in fear of once again being called hostile by a member of that team, I have been ambivalent to express my disappointment in their decision until now. I hope the displaced workers have found new areas in which to invest their time and talent.

These are not intended to be cynical words or an expression of superiority on my part. However, I think this concept of counterpoint and its application to the church is worthy of emphasis. It's a partnership--a superimposition of complimenting elements into a single harmonic texture--among lay people and clergy working together. After all, we are all ministers.

I guess this year I'll just go see Mel Gibson's film and listen for the orchestral counterpoint.

REFERENCES
"Waking the Dead" by John Eldredge
"The Purpose-Driven Life" by Rick Warren
"The Purpose-Driven Church" by Rick Warren
"Partners in Ministry" by Jim Garlow
"Life Application Bible"

CURTAIN CALL

With four curtain calls this week and eight shows remaining, the words of Judge Taylor in "To Kill a Mockingbird" haunt me throughout the day and may even be the cause of my recent insomnia. My supporting role in the Muskegon Civic Theatre production carries a minimal line load, but includes an interesting remark as act one draws to a conclusion: "People generally see what they look for and hear what they listen for."

I understand that educated people, including judges, don't like to end sentences with a preposition; however, prescriptive grammar not only causes grief in the English language but headaches for meaningful theater. So, now that we know that Judge Taylor will never spend a night in jail for his failure to keep the prepositions with their object nouns together, "...let's get on."

In other words, it appears that people generally determine their reality based upon what they look for and what they listen for. Think about that for a moment! Isn't that closely related to the definition of prejudice? Do our preconceptions taint any possibility of clear focus? Wouldn't it be better if we postponed judgement to enable knowledge, truth, and justice?

I see too many people approach life with their minds already made up--about themselves, about issues, about others. Such prejudicial mentality only impairs our individual and societal potential. We need to encourage and maintain life-long learning attitudes. As for me, I'm about to complete a very meaningful "graduate class" with some 30 students of varying ages and ethnicity.

Few plays demand casting with race as a primary filter. However, few plays confront the uncomfortable reality of racism and prejudice as well as "To Kill a Mockingbird." I've truly enjoyed performing with an amazing ensemble for nearly eight weeks. Because of these talented actors and actresses, I have a greater self-awareness of my own prejudices and a heightened awareness of how pervasive, subtle, and hurtful discrimination can be.

SCORN NOT THE SIMPLICITY

She hung on tightly as we ventured through the cold Michigan air and into the forested trail. Susan and Jeffrey were at least 20 minutes ahead of us on cross-country skis, a difference quickly reduced on snowmobile. Fortunately, Shelby enjoyed the wintery excursion, considering the air temperature was a mere ten degrees.

The reality of our weekend events is accentuated by the preceding twelve years. See, today is Shelby's birthday. The excitement in descending the stairs this morning was a prelude to celebration. We went to church together and then rendezvoused with her grandparents at the restaurant of her choice-- Olive Garden. Birthday cake was scheduled for later in the day.

Life for Shelby is complicated by a history of verbal apraxia, rolandic epilepsy, and developmental delays. But from within this complexity surfaces a beautiful simplicity of living and celebrating one day at a time. And whether it's a new leather purse or a gift-wrapped box of her favorite cereal, her smile and polite "thank you" for the gift are frozen moments. Pause...phone call...a friend from school just called to wish her happy birthday. Scorn not the simplicity.

Thank you for your love, Shelby Elizabeth, and for helping me become a better person. I love the journey! Happy birthday, sweetheart.

FOCUS ON THE FOREST

I was always intrigued with the passion of Qui Gon Jin: "Your focus is your reality." The Jedi mentor of Star Wars fame packed a lot of instruction into those five words; and I doubt that young Anakin Skywalker truly understood the scope of that lesson. To whom or what you direct your attention, is what determines your reality. The ability to change your focus in a second does not change the fact that your focus IS your reality.

I enjoy writing! I also encourage my students to write frequently in response to many content areas--math, science, social studies. In a time when most students have considerable difficulty narrowing their attention, the entire process of writing seems to perpetuate a healthy kind of focus. Since I encourage students to respond in writing as often as possible, then what's the big deal about an online journal or web log?

Hopefully, my family will read a frequent post...they love me. Maybe my friends will choose to be notified when something new is posted...it just might mention them. And maybe my students will take an extra few minutes to read my journal during their computer lab...because it's an assignment of sorts. All that is almost scary.

Maybe in order to reduce the fear factor, I will invite other writers to post their emphasis. Afterall, I haven't seen too many BLOGS which become a collaborative effort. This just might work!

I hope you will appreciate the focus...because it does dictate reality. Editor Maxwell Perkins once said, "We must somehow bring the underlying scheme or pattern of [our writing] into emphasis, so that the reader will be able to see the forest in spite of the many trees." That's the focus and that's our reality for this project.