At the FCTE Conference, Orlando, Florida

I'm a bit early to a conference, for once. Today (Thursday) the conference opens, but I must have caught the registration people at lunch--this is the middle of the "pre-conference," actually. So after walking around looking quite confused, I am sure, I have given in. While a crowd of seemingly two hundred troop into a ballroom for a pre-paid lunch, I'm sitting in the New American cuisine-style hotel cafe (this is a Renaissance--quite nice, but too rich for my blood right now. So I am staying at a much cheaper, somewhat down-at-the-heels conference hotel exactly four minutes away by Mapquest claim). Internet access is a steep $10 per day--fortunately, I seem to be riding on some kind person's open access WiFi.

(Score so far for those who expect bloggers to notate the minutae of the day: nice service, undrinkable espresso. I view the latter as nothing artsy or special, just real coffee. The server--Tracy, by the way, has maintained her cheer nicely. She even said that she would be "honored" to be mentioned in this blog--a nice choice of words, given the very name of this blog!)

I last presented at an FTCE conference when I taught in an inner-city high school. I have returned as a business owner, but one who still believes in the fundamental principles underlying my approach to creating a miniature culture of honor in the classroom, whether high school or college. Tomorrow, I'll be leading a workshop for high school teachers that provides concrete strategies that build the dignity of teachers and students. I have no doubt that we can improve the situation in schools so that teachers (and students) don't burn out.

My friends who still are teaching in Florida public schools--most of them veteran, award-winning teachers--are showing signs of complete exhaustion. Principles have had to make do with less and less money while suffering a barrage of new "intiatives." But these initiatives drain people, rather than inspire them.

When people outside the school system hear about bureacracy, they may imagine complex documentation. Sure, that's part of the burden. But what I found while working for the public school system went beyond complexity: the forms seemed cramped and out-of-date, with no uniformity. No one had the time to update procedures so that teachers and administrators struggle with a bizarre, ugly chimera of online and hard-copy forms. If you have known the (relative) satisifaction of completing a paperwork task cleanly and precisely, then invert that feeling and you will have a sense of the ugly, lumbering educational bureacracy that provides a mental environment at odds with any sense of professionalism, let alone beauty or quiet control.

Apologies that Work

Theodore Dalrymple's "False Apology Syndrome--I'm Sorry for Your Sins" (http://www.incharacter.org/article.php?article=119) often hits the right tone. He moves beyond the insincere-sounding "I'm sorry if you were insulted" and its ilk to the public apologies for past transgressions by long-dead people. So the Pope apologizes for the Crusades, and Tony Blair apologizes for the potato famine. Dalrymple claims that such pseudo-apologies actually have a corrosive effect on virtue. It increases pride without any real responsibility--virtue becomes a matter of loud proclamation, rather than painful self-examination.

He also suggests that shame--that often ignored emotion (no one is supposed to feel ashamed these days)--is an appropriate moral emotion for past transgressions, at least horrible ones. His article is consistent with others that place such emotions at the center of our moral lives.

Dalrymple is concerned with the effect of sham apologies on the giver and recipient. So how should we apologize? The guidelines should include the preservation of the recipient's dignity. For many transgressions of the daily variety, they should in some way preserve the giver's dignity, too. That is, by facing those to whom you are apologizing in a dignified (but not arrogant) manner, you actually are demonstrating respect. And such apologies transmit the indirect message that you will be good for something after the apology, including action to make things better.