The Undivided Life: Part One

Years ago I read Parker J. Palmer’s The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life. I recall being struck by his approach to teaching that honored the humanity of the teacher as well as the learner. In that volume he described teaching as a deeply human kind of encounter between teacher, learner, and subject. In 2014 I came across his book The Heart of Higher Education: A Call to Renewal, and I wrote a blog post about what Palmer referred to as “integrated learning.” This past month I was pleasantly surprised to discover by accident that my public library had a couple of Parker Palmer’s books as audiobooks available on the Overdrive app, so I’ve been listening to them on my commute. To top it all off, I’ve now heard two faculty members quote Parker Palmer within the last month. I am now convinced that it is time for me to explore some of the lessons I’ve learned from his writing and see what connections remain to be explored. For reflecting on the inner life and its connection to one’s vocation in the world, Parker Palmer is a trustworthy guide.

Here I want to provide a few quotes from his work that have wider applicability and that illustrate his approach. From The Courage to Teach:

“Good teaching cannot be reduced to technique; good teaching comes from the identity and integrity of the teacher” (2).

This central idea is at the heart of most of Parker Palmer’s writings. This notion of identity and integrity draws on Palmer’s Quaker spiritual roots which take seriously an understanding of the presence of God within us. For Palmer this is a radical commitment to the biblical idea that every person is created in the image of God and a corresponding belief in the possibility of finding “that of God in every person” (Hidden Wholeness, 180) including oneself. In this light the journey to discover one’s true identity is not a narcissistic detour or self-absorption; instead the inner journey is a journey toward knowing God as we discover the unique ways God has shaped us and speaks through our lives. Incredibly, the God who created the universe is the God who dwells within and speaks within our own souls. This foundational Quaker belief is part of what makes Palmer’s work on teaching and learning so distinctive and also so attractive.

With this rich view of self, Palmer advocates bringing our “whole selves” to our work of teaching. As it turns out, we all do so either consciously (with awareness of both our gifts and limitations, our light and our shadow sides) or unconsciously (lacking that self-awareness and unaware of how our limits and potentials, our light and our shadow, are affecting us and those around us). Palmer explains, “Teaching, like any truly human activity, emerges from one’s inwardness, for better or worse” (2). In the end, as Palmer explains, “We teach who we are” (2). This is a recognition of the importance of owning our identity and embracing the reality of who we actually are, rather than who we wish we were or think we should be.

In addition, it can also be said paradoxically that “we are who we teach.” In other words, our identity is also being shaped through our encounter with our students who themselves are people of identity and integrity, whole selves with gifts and potentials just like us. Together in the classroom or university, we are whole, individual selves. But we are also individual selves in community. Along these lines, Palmer writes:

“Our equal and opposite needs for solitude and community constitute a great paradox. When it is torn apart, both of these life-giving states of being degenerate into deathly spectres of themselves. Solitude split off from community is no longer a rich and fulfilling experience of inwardness; now it becomes loneliness, a terrible isolation. Community split off from solitude is no longer a nurturing network of relationships; now it becomes a crowd, an alienating buzz of too many people and too much noise” (68)

For my part, as an introvert I find that I am much more naturally drawn to the solitude side of the paradox. Yet I at least mentally assent to the importance of community and would certainly name the fostering of a vibrant academic community as one of the primary goals of my service as a dean. Revisiting Palmer's work has given me some richer context for seeing the importance of both solitude and community, and of the need for solitude in order to be able to promote true community.

Here is one final quote from The Courage to Teach: 

“In the undivided self, every major thread of one’s life experience is honored, creating a weave of such coherence and strength that it can hold students and subject as well as self. Such a self, inwardly integrated, is able to make the outward connections on which good teaching depends.” (16)

To me, this description sounds not only like what we as educators wish for ourselves. It is also what we hope for and believe that a transformative liberal arts education will enable for our students: an inwardly integrated self that is able to make the outward connections on which good living depends.

In a followup post, I will discuss how Palmer extends these ideas and explores their potential to shape the culture of universities in his The Heart of Higher Education (2010). I’ll also draw from two of his other books related to the nature of vocation.