July+2013

July 14, 2013
From my rented dormitory room at Ambrose University College I can see the Rocky Mountains out my west facing window. At first I thought "How nice, a mountain view!" Being in Calgary for course work post-flood and during the Calgary Stampede seemed to me to be enough to situate me in Calgary, but the mountains, a nice bonus. In truth I had no idea that I had a mountain view for the first three days that I was here. Sure, I looked out the window, but it was rainy and cloudy, and the horizon was a line of trees that I could walk to in about ten minutes. A ten minute horizon makes for a smaller, cozier world. It can also make it a bit "close" and uncomfortable. Discovering a beautiful new horizon much further than ten minutes away was a pleasant surprise.

Starting courses at the University of Calgary has been a journey towards a changing horizon as well. The drive across the Canadian Prairies provided time for reflection. I have had a few people ask if I was bored on that very long drive, but I wasn't really. The horizon kept shifting, both outside my car, and at some level, inside my head as well. Going back to school again at 45 to start a doctorate in education has a way of making one examine the source-code of one's own heart. "Why am I doing this?" The answer depends on the perspective I take, and I am learning that a perspective, like a horizon, can provide surprises.

Motivations aside, the courses and readings have been good so far. Better still, the people in the cohort are fantastic. I found out that I am not the only 45 year old intent on returning to school. There are 14 of us in our cohort, and each one brings his or her own life experience and brilliance to bear within the group. Some are younger, some older, and we have come to this Ed.D. from many countries, drawing together quite a cosmopolitan set of life experiences. Each of us has our own set of motivators, perspectives, and horizons to orient us. Right now we are being introduced (and challenged by) the ideas of Ken Wilber and the AQAL model. Wilber's ideas are roundly trashed in many academic circles as an unprovable and unhelpful meta-theory, new age, and generally unworkable. Wilber may invite the criticism, as might anyone who claimed earnestly to be working on a "theory of everything". However, we have worked through the quadrants, levels, lines, types and states and applied them to several theories of learning, including for example, Piaget's constructivism, Skinner's radical behaviorism, and Holt's ideas about unschooling. It has been an engaging exercise, as we walk towards an indefinite horizon adopting a perspective that is new for everyone in the room.

As I have watched the mountain horizon out my window over the past few days it has been striking to me how some days the mountains seem closer than others. On one day a snow squall at the top of one of the peaks made it a brilliant white as the sun shone down through broken cloud. This morning all of than snow is gone, and the horizon changes again. Calgarians live under the influence of their mountain horizon, and so it is fitting that the motto of the University of Calgary is //Mo shùile togam suas.// The phrase is Gaelic; translated it means "I will lift up my eyes". From my perspective I can see that this is a shortened version of "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills", which is the first line of Psalm 121. People have always looked to the mountains, a horizon that represents the beauty of nature, but also the fear of what might be out there as well. The Psalmist looks beyond the mountains though, and writes verse two. "My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth." Psalm 121 is a great Psalm of Ascents. I can see why the University of Calgary might have a portion of it as their motto. If I had a motto I think Psalm 121 might work for me too.

Horizons change over time, and sometimes they are not what I expect them to be. In starting my doctorate I feel very much like I am at the base camp for a very long climb up a very challenging mountain, so there will be many opportunities over the next few years for me to lift up my eyes. Undoubtedly the horizon will change, and my perspectives will too I suppose. A funny thought is working its way in here though: now that I know that there are real mountains out my dormitory window, I can't wish them away on a grey and cloudy day. A new horizon has been established for me, and even if I can't see it every day, I know that there is something beyond those trees that are ten minutes away. I will lift my eyes up, and in the process who knows what new horizons I might realize.