Care to rephrase that?

I was able to hear Dr. Georgia Dunston, Director of the Molecular Genetics core research unit at the National Human Genome Center, speak the other day. She is passionate, brilliant, and driven. As I listened to her talk, I thought how little I would want to be someone who had to say to her, "Sorry, but I'm not done with that task yet."

Her work deals with using information gleaned from the human genome to address health issues. As she tells it, she is still looking for answers to the question she had as a little girl: What makes us different? A fair question, to be sure. What I found interesting, however, was a particular way she had of asking this question during her presentation. Couched in the framework of describing how she started on her career path and life's work, she asked instead "Who do you say I am?"

This stuck with me. Clearly this woman has worked hard to get to where she is today. She has earned degrees and titles and respect and recognition. Her work revolves around the innermost make-up of humans, the DNA and chromosomes and genes (98%+ of which is no different than that of an earthworm). Yet, even with her focus at that level of one's individuality, she phrased her question in terms of how others see her. She didn't simply ask Who am I? Nor did she ask What does this say about who I am? She asked Who do you say I am?

That is more power than I want.

And yet at other times I take the power on and use it so easily I do not recognize that I am wielding it. A different conversation happened the same day, about an hour after the presentation. Our school year has just started. We're not even 10 days into the quarter when I run into the women's assistant basketball coach and academic counselor. I have three of these young women in class. We talked for about 5-10 minutes about these players as students and how they are doing in class. I have to admit that I had little positive to say regarding their classroom performance thus far. While not incapable, I didn't think they were working very hard. I saw no evidence of interest or concern about their assignments. During class, if there is a hum or a murmur of a decidedly non-mathematic bent, it is probably coming from their corner of the room.

And it was oh-so-easy for me to categorize them as immature, and lazy or disengaged instead of simply young and possibly overwhelmed (there was also a dash a miscommunication thrown in). I lumped them in with other students who I believe/-ed were in school because they did not know what else to do and were stuck in a class they could not care less about. I have honest empathy and concern for students show an iota of responsibility for their grades. I have zilch for those who show zilch. I perceived these women to be showing zilch.

On the tail of Dr. Dunston asking Who do you say I am?, I didn't realize my students may have been asking me the same question. And where I shuddered and backed away from answering the former due to her titles and aura/presence, I raced ahead and categorized the latter without a second thought.

The quarter is still so young and I've already learned something. Go figure.


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