Using…or Abusing?

Gregory R. Bashford,
Biological Systems Engineering,
University of Nebraska-Lincoln
[Sept. 11, 2011] –

The student was beaming. “Thanks, Dr. B!” he said.

Based on his obvious talents, I had steered him towards a particular engineering industry, and he returned to tell me about his freshly-received, cushy job offer. “If you hadn’t shown me this area, I never would have known it existed!” He left a thank-you note and tufts of cloud nine floating through my office.

My Sagacity

Well, another success! I leaned back, congratulated myself, and wondered where this poor soul would be if not for my sagacity. Subconsciously I looked around for my pipe and tweed jacket. Where is the next advice-seeker? Bring ‘em on!

I don’t know about you, but I can easily find this attitude in myself. The power we wield (or are perceived to wield) as professors, coupled with our role in undergraduate life, makes it easy for a wandering student to find her/himself in our office asking what the next step should be.

What a tightrope on which we balance, the blessing of God’s work through us. Instead of rejoicing for the honor of serving Him, it’s rather too easy to puff up with pride.

And thus I often find myself asking: Am I using my talents to edify students and point to the One who made them, or am I abusing my gift to feel important?

Where I Lead Them

If I’m not letting the power of Christ work through me, I’m not doing anything of value. Even worse, if I’m basing my counsel on the admiration I think I’ll earn, I may lead someone astray from what is best for him or her. Time to find a millstone and look for the nearest sea (thankfully a long way from Nebraska).

How can I keep myself from losing my balance?
1. By abiding in Him. “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5) Daily, I must seek Him and consciously connect to Him.
2. By considering every encounter a divine appointment. Jesus took the most mundane encounters and turned them into incredible opportunities. Every time someone walks into my office, I must ask, “Lord, how can I serve this person?”
3. By not thinking about myself. Apart from the Bible, C. S. Lewis said it best: “Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call ‘humble’ nowadays… he will not be thinking about humility; he will not be thinking about himself at all.”

Christ gave us an awesome responsibility; to tend young, naïve lives, turning them one way or another, while modeling (maybe their only example) God’s love. Don’t lose that for the transient, unfulfiling pleasure of feeling important!

© 2011 Gregory R. Bashford

Why You Should Make a Fool of Yourself

Heather Holleman,
English,
Penn State University
[Feb. 27, 2011] —

Some students who regularly frequent local bars recently told me that the reason why college students drink so much is because it’s the only time they don’t feel self-conscious. Alcohol makes them feel free to be themselves. Without it, they worry so much about making a fool of themselves.

Today I reasoned that making a fool of yourself might not be such a bad thing.

I remember being terribly self-conscious in high school and college (who isn’t?). I remember agonizing over whether people liked me and whether I was impressive. Years of trying to manage other people’s perceptions of me exhausted me.

But in one terrible semester of graduate school, I stopped trying to impress people.That year, I nearly failed out of school.

A certain professor mocked me publicly, claimed I wasn’t fit for graduate school, and implied that there had been a mistake in the application process that allowed me into a Ph.D. program. The tormenting shame I felt for that (and for nearly every mistake I was making personally that year), drove me into hiding and despair.

And it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

Before that year, I was self-conscious to the point of never being my true self. But when my worst fears were imagined and everybody saw me as a failure, a beautiful thing happened.

It wasn’t that bad. It actually felt like freedom.

I was free to be exactly who I wanted to be. I stopped expending energy on wondering what people thought (I already knew—it wasn’t good), and instead I asked myself what I could do to serve the academic community there. I figured out how much I loved teaching, I wrote an entire dissertation on the emotion of shame (how convenient!), and I didn’t have to try to earn anyone’s approval (I had already lost it).

And of course, as these things always go, I had more friends, more accolades, and more respect from professors than ever. That one grumpy professor even apologized to me. People like people who aren’t self-conscious. They like people who can make a fool of themselves.

I haven’t struggled with self-esteem since then. What drives self-esteem issues is a profound fear of being exposed as a loser, a fraud, a fool. Well, maybe we need to be exposed.

I wonder if college students wouldn’t drink so much if they gathered their friends together, admitted their weaknesses, regularly did ridiculous things that made them supremely self-conscious, and tested the theory that we’d all love them more because of it.

Why not practice letting people see you at your worst? When it happens to you (like it happened to me), you recover, you find that people love you even more, and you stop trying to impress everybody.

© 2011 Heather Holleman

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