For some unknown reason I have woken up for two consecutive mornings dreaming of teaching completely developed, intricate and enticing classes. Deep in my soul I believe that I was born to teach religious studies and philosophy to young people, maybe I just keep incarnating during times like the Spanish Inquisition when teaching religion has not been a "healthy" or secure profession.
Friday I woke up pouring over the curriculum for Cross-Cultural Beliefs. This class studies the evolution of beliefs which unfold in countries and on continents. For example in India, it begins will Bon, leads to Vedanta, Hinduism and Islam with an examination of what happened during the British occupation and missions of Christianity. The course examines how beliefs actually transform within a culture; what caused the change, why was the previously held system open to change, did the growing complexity and diversity make life better? During the dream I was planning a week on the genesis of Australian beliefs, closing with a showing of Weir's The Last Wave about the white man's world clashing with the Aboriginals.
Today I woke up planning a course, The Examined Life and the Etiquette of Curiosity. The stated commitment was that no conclusions would be made in class. The point being that interrogation does not require action or that interrogation is the action. The class was not to lead the students to a certain choice or belief (such a when does life being) but rather to make it clear that to not ask is the true lapse of conscience. Like my first teaching job, this was a class of all boys. We began each day reading the local paper together, landing on a particular story to really analyze. I suppose head-butting would be on the burner for this week.
In both of these classes, chairs were arranged in a circle. That is something I did in 1971, having read the fascinating work of Edward T. Hall; The Hidden Dimension and The Silent Language. Today such things are revolutionary with dialog circles and cafes. But I think that ultimately we are all just trying to replace the extended family dinner table or the tribal counsel where conversations were the center of leadership, camaraderie, information and learning.
I have no idea why I have such dreams. They are my primary and life-long recurring ones. No matter the interpretation, the fact is that I grieve every day that schools are not teaching such classes. I sat in front of my TV last night wondering who are the people of Hamas and Hezbollah. What is in their hearts? Would I be one of them if I lived there? How is it that their god requires killing and dying. Will their culture become more deeply rooted in this vengeful idol or will death finally break so many hearts that their god will transform into an angel of comfort. I don't know. I just don't know.
