A Brave New World

“Some may say I’m a dreamer…but I’m not the only one…”~ John Lennon

Very soon I will depart for a new chapter in my life.  A new world that is scary and exciting at the same time: The Metro-Plex.  After five years of blood, sweat, and tears I recently finished my doctorate and I will begin my first job in higher education at the University of Texas at Arlington.  I go from teaching at a high school of 600 to teaching at a college of over 30,000.  I have an apartment lined up and my office is being prepped for my loads of books, pictures and diplomas.  The nervousness and butterflies have started and the realization of the magnitude of this change in my life.  But with nervousness comes great excitement.  My fear does not stem from the feeling of wondering if I am making the right move. I have wanted to work in academia for over 20 years.  I have 100% assurance that I can do the job and I have been “called” into this second career at this stage of my life.

Some feel the call to ministry, others to foreign diplomacy or politics, social work, medicine, or military service. Some feel the call to teaching and make that their life’s work.  My calling involves teaching, but it is much deeper.  I have the gift of encouragement and a love for science that was reflected in my 21 years of teaching.  I want to share that gift with the current and future teachers of science and mathematics, the gatekeepers of our nation’s students who will maintain our innovation and help us persevere as one of the most powerful countries in the world.  I want to help inspire students to become the future scientists, astronauts, and doctors that we will need for the next generation.

I also am for the underdog.  I always have been.  If I had lived in Europe in World War II I would have been killed for helping the Jews.  I would have been a staunch abolitionist calling for an end to slavery during the Civil War.  I would have marched with the women who demanded the right to vote.  Finally, I would have helped sustain the civil rights movement of the 1960’s with great fervor. But those times have passed.  How can I make a difference right now? I still support the rights of the underdog and the downtrodden.  In the fields of Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM), that primarily includes females and minorities.  I could write for days about why they need advocates at every level, but there is not room in this blog.   Let me just say that there is a great need for America to produce more engineers and scientists and we need to develop them from within our own schools.  

I sometimes feel I have no power to make changes in racism and discrimination in America, although I long for a way to get involved.  So I have chosen this field to enable female and African-American scientists, engineers, and STEM teachers to find their calling and make a difference.  My gift to them is empowerment:  the ability to prosper in a field that is exciting, lucrative, and beneficial to the world in numerous ways.  Empowerment, hope, and encouragement through education is my way of changing the face of racism and discrimination for the underdogs of our world.

Will I change the world as much a march, a rally, or a picket sign? I am not sure, but I know I am doing my part to help the next generation build a better world.  This is my life’s mission…my calling.

Maybe I am naïve, idealistic, or a dreamer, but I have a feeling I’m not the only one.  Pray for me as I enter this brave new world of opportunity and change. 

How to Know if You are a Zombie

“Did you exchange…a walk-on part in a war…for a lead role in a cage?” 

~Pink Floyd from Wish You Were Here

Humans will never fly.

No one will ever climb Mt. Everest.

It is impossible to run less than a 4 minute mile.

We will never make it to the moon.

We will never find a cure for polio.

Mars is out of our reach.  We should just forget it.

There is a show that I occasionally watch, but usually just while I am channel surfing.  It’s called “The Walking Dead” and I know some people are completely addicted to it. Sometimes I stay and enjoy the story and plot, but when the “walkers” show up, I am on the move to find something like Andy Griffith to clean out my short term memory.  For some reason I stayed on a certain episode today. For devoted fans, it was the one where they entered the Centers for Disease Control and found out the nature and origin of the disease.  As a science teacher (one that actually attempted a unit on zombies), I was intrigued at how the zombies came to be.  Without getting too deep in the science, let me just say that the disease or virus kills the individual.  But some part of their brain “awakens” after a few hours. It is mostly the brain stem, the part that controls unconscious actions.  Thus the walkers are, in a sense, alive but not really.  They function only to move and feed and are exactly what the title suggests:  walking dead.  The only way to kill them again is to destroy that part of the brain.

What intrigued me most was not the brain science, but the attitude of the individuals who were trying to survive.  The CDC was wired to explode in a ball of fire when its power reserves ran out, and the sole surviving CDC employee was ready to go up in flames and take the survivors with him.  The survivors knew that outside were starving zombies, but for some reason they could not buy into the idea of choosing a quick and easy death to avoid the conflict outside.  I left the house for a while to clear my head of zombie images. After walking and jogging at the track, I started to understand the strength, perseverance, tenacity, and courage of the human spirit. 

A teacher fighting a diagnosis of cancer after being told there is no hope.  An athlete pushing herself for the next race or a faster time or a new goal. A college student barely scraping by with a part-time job and mounting college loans to become a doctor.  A mountain climber reaching the top of Mt. Everest and saying “What next?”  An astronaut taking “one small step for mankind.”  A paraplegic striving to walk again even though science says it’s impossible.

As the Pink Floyd song describes, there are many individuals who choose to live their lives in a cage and never strive to get out.  It is comfortable in the cage; no unknowns to fear. “Just give me my food and water and TV remote and make me comfortable and I will be just fine.” All the while, the key to the cage hangs nearby, ready to secure their freedom.  Only a few brave individuals choose to open the door and take their part in this war called life.  When you enter a war, there is great possibility of death at every turn. But there is also the key--the key to independence.  As I write this on July 4^th, I will not forget the ones who fought in many wars to gain our freedom. They chose to truly live to give us life, sometimes at the cost of their own.

So in the end, it is important to check yourself.  Are you in the multitude of the walking dead? Or are you in the minority… in the small but dedicated group that chooses to strive for more against all odds.  As long as there is hope, there will always be a human spirit that seeks to climb the next mountain, cure the next disease, or meet the next goal.

Unlock the cage.  Join the land of the living.

Legacy

Springs of hope well up and give me peace to face this journey

For the purpose we were placed here--a bigger meaning clouded by uncertainty and a lack of confidence.

The place and time for our legacy is at hand---were we made for something bigger than ourselves?

The portrait unfolds before us--a mess of colors and shades and irregular lines

An unfinished portrait that waits for each stroke to add meaning to emptiness and order to disarray.

Is it a mystery for us to solve or a door rising in front of us--what is our mark on this calendar?

I stand in awe  as the purpose is revealed and all is made clear--there is a time and place for all things great and small.

We are not an accident--we are the legacy that we leave--the footprints and purpose of a life well-lived.

Originally Written 3-28-10

That's a Good Question?

For this blog, I simply present a series of questions.  I don't need or expect an answer from anyone. They are only to provoke serious thinking. A few of my Facebook friends have contributed a question or two, including my son Caleb. These questions are intended to make you think and to cause your brain to hurt. You are welcome:-)

1. Does suffering mean we are not in God's will, or is it a normal part of everyone's life?
2. Why are Christians afraid to speak to those who are different from themselves, including homosexuals, Muslims, Jews, agnostics, and atheists?
3. Is driving a big SUV or throwing a piece of trash out of your car window a sin?
4. Why is it so easy for people to stereotype others and believe stereotypes?
5. Which are bigger sins: (1) alcoholism and drug abuse or (2) gluttony and obesity?
6. Why are people so scared to meet in the middle on important social issues, instead of always being polar opposites and not budging from their positions?
7. Is it fair that two people are in a car accident and one is taken and the other one lives?
8. Is it reasonable to pray to God for your favorite sports team or for that big promotion at work when you pass a homeless person and ignore them on the way to see that team or go to your job?
9. Why are so many people of different faiths all 100% sure they are going to heaven, but they also are all 100% sure that ones in religions other than their own are not?
10. Why do we tell people all they need is Jesus to hold them, when they are lonely, abused, or sad and begging for the touch of another human being?
11. What happens to people after this life who have never heard the gospel because of geographic isolation, their government's policies, or a rigid social structure?
12. Can creationists find common ground with evolutionists in the area of environmental policy, sustainability and stewardship?
13. Can Christians and non-Christians work together for causes that are mutually beneficial to humanity and the good of society?
14. Is the gospel hard to fathom because of its simplicity; in other words could it really be that easy?
15. If the Earth was not created in exactly 7 24-hr days, does that mean that the creation of our world is any less amazing?
16. Is it possible to show your faith through being the best at whatever you do and pushing yourself to improve every day?
17. If God made man in His own image, how can any Christian call themselves a racist?
18. Were the Beatles oversimplifying life when they sang "All You Need is Love," or is love really the glue that holds the world together?
19. If Jesus returned on a Sunday morning, would he appear in the mega-church or in the streets talking to the homeless?
20. Even though we have amazing technology, are we any more connected to people than we were 100 years ago?
21. Since all cultures have music in common, could it be used as a tool to unite all cultures?
22. Is it immoral that the United States throws away millions of pounds of food every day, but we have millions of people starving in other countries?
23. Is the quantity of life (years of life) any more important than the quality of life (life in your years)?
24.  Is perfectionism ever possible; in other words is it possible for anyone to be 100% perfect in all areas of their life?
25. Why does life always produce more questions than answers?

Why I Love (and Hate) Running

"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start."
~John Bingham

Running is a lot like life. You run at your own pace. You are prepared, but nervous and cautious about the road ahead.  It has a beginning and an end. In running, you know the course set out before you, but the course is different every time; there are different people around you each race and you may also have different weather conditions. You could have a new pair of shoes or a new playlist on your mp3 player. But the goal always remains: to reach the finish line.

I did not start out as a runner. I arrived kicking and screaming (or more like walking). When I lost around 55 pounds in 2008, I did it by cutting my food intake in half and walking about 3 miles a day. Walking is easy. It is what nearly every human does every day. You just put one foot in front of the other, and to go faster you move your feet faster. It's not rocket science. And, even though I was a fairly slow walker, I still completed a number of races: about six 5K's, 2 10K's, and even a half marathon. But I came to learn one very important fact about walking: no matter how fast you walk, there is a top speed that is easily reached by a normal, albeit quick, stride. (I am not including power walking or race walking, a sport at which it is very difficult to not look silly). So I came to realize that I had to join the ranks of the runners.

I started out running with more of a slow jog. I used the track at a local school and ran the straight areas and walked the curves. It was painful at first. My shins, ankles, and calves resisted this new motion. It seemed unnatural to my linebacker-shaped body (and it still does). But I persisted. No matter how quickly I ran, I could not pass my 17-year old son, who seemed to take amusement at watching me crawl along behind him. But like the tortoise in the great fable, I persisted. I am still slow; the physics of rate and speed are not sympathetic to me. Along the way, I found out there is a name for people my size who run: Clydesdales. I am not sure whether I should be offended at this title, as it denotes a huge, slow, prancing horse. Upon further analysis, I realized they are large, yet proud creatures that get the job done. So the name is fitting for me.

In 2012 I did my first run/walk 5K. My time was slow (although I would like to blame it on the fact that I missed the turn-around "cone").  I kept training and did another run/walk with my son a few weeks later and finished quicker than I thought. Since then, I had hoped to beat the time I set on that race. I have yet to beat it, but I went ahead and scheduled another race: The Leprechaun 5K. I trained hard and ran timed trials for myself every two weeks or so, but always along the trip I stopped a few times and walked to catch my breath. In my first run/walk 5K, I had run the whole first mile, a feat in itself and a first for me. I seriously thought that was my threshold, a mark I would never pass. I never dreamed that I could run a whole 5K.  But a week or so before my last race, I put it in my mind that I could run the whole race, at whatever pace I could muster.

From the first gun, I knew I had to try. I set a pace and kept chipping away, bringing up the rear along with a 70-year old man and a number of walkers and women pushing strollers.  Around the half-way point, I started to doubt myself. Fortunately, pain in my shins and legs was masked by adrenaline and self-will. Approaching the last half-mile, I was encouraged because I had kept up with the 70-year old and I passed him in slow motion right before the last downhill stretch, the theme to Chariots of Fire running through my mind. Then it was all downhill...literally... the road sloped downward to the finish line for the last quarter mile. As I moved across the finish line, I felt like I had run a marathon. And maybe it was a marathon for me.

The severe pain in my back, legs, and shins persisted for a number of days. But it was worth every step. Training for a run is hard and the pain on this 45-year old body makes me wonder why I do it. But the challenge of the next race, and the hope of beating my own time in the process, keeps me going. I guess I am hooked. I still enjoy lifting weights because it comes easy to me and it seems safer; my comfort zone of an exercise plan. But the draw of the next race keeps my fitness on track, my weight in check, and my sense of adventure on high alert. I love the results of running as it matches my goal-setting personality and strokes my sense of self-achievement, but I hate the pain it causes on my body. However, nothing can take away the great sense of completion you feel after a race. Crossing the finish line is a thrill that I cherish and will always enjoy.

And even if I finish every race in last place, I am still ahead of those watching on the sideline or resting in their easy chair. So to paraphrase the weightlifting adage, when it comes to running, my mantra reads "Some pain, much gain."

See you on the road...I'll be the tall guy running at the speed of a proud tortoise....

Feel free to leave a comment or email me directly at mcdsparks@gmail.com.