Psychology

Death

datadan Uncategorized ,

I went to a funeral today.  It was for an uncle who had few people in his life.  He was survived by a wife, a brother, two sisters, a mother, and some cousins.  He had a stroke at an early age.  Some of the relatives state it was because of too much alcohol as a child.  He walked with a limp and lost most functionality of his left arm for as long as I knew him (and for all of his adult life his sister told me.).  He didn’t go anywhere.  He didn’t have any friends.  He had no hobbies.  he rarely went to family get-functions.  In fact his own mother frequently criticized him for only showing up when there was free food available.    Near the end he had cancer.  He laid alone often in and out of consciousness of a nursing home.  The wife wanted the the sisters and brother to take care of him.  This caused much in-fighting.  In the end, he died alone hours after his sister and niece visited him.  He was unconscious when the visited.  The niece asked: “How is he still alive?  No one is feeding him.”

In the funeral hall there were 8 family members present.  The wife of his brother invited her family to fill the hall out (this added 7).  The wife invited some of her family (5 showed up).  In the end, 20 people was all that was there to remember his life and times.

At the mortuary, no one know what traditions to apply.  The females wore a white yarn bow in their hair, the mails work a black ribbon on their sleeve.  There was confusion about when to view the body.  6 layers of brightly colored satin cloth were put on his body.  After sitting around and saying very little the Buddhist monks showed up.  They laid out food, incense, pictures of Buddha.  A senior monk (Sefu) spoke at length to the family explaining what was going to happen when.  For a while the monks were addressing a cousin instead of the wife until it was pointed out to her who the wife was.

The monks brought a cadre of helpers (6) that were to direct people on when to bow, sit, kneel, chant, or pray.  The chanted a sutra as we walked around the coffin, lit incense, bowed, knelt, followed along in a sutra by phonetics book.  The sutra was about the great Buddhas of the past and the divinity of their wisdom and how everyone ought believe it. Then sefu spoke at length about life and hereafter.

Lucky money slips were distributed to all who helped.  Special lucky money envelopes were given to Sefu by family members.  The monks packed up and left.  There were some more incense offerings and viewings.   The “From” ribbons on all the funeral bouquets were cut and saved.  The flowers were packed into a car along with the body of uncle.  We drove to the cemetery were his body was interred.  The black sleeve ribbons were put on the coffin along with the white yarn bows and flowers.   The family burned incense and paper money.  Then everyone left and went to lunch.

Nobody said anything about his life.  Nobody talked about him at lunch.  Even in the time before his funeral in the time after no one recounted “good times and bad times.”  The funeral home made oil painting of him from a picture of him when he was young.  The only comment I heard about him the whole day was: “That was a nice picture.”

The day was ceremony and ritual without depth.  He had no legacy.  He accomplished nothing and did little with his life.  He will not be remembered except as a footnote of family tree conversations.

What will the sum total of your life be?

Lock Down – part 2

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Two different people called the police from a classroom phone and stated that there was someone waving a gun around in their classroom at my school.  Upon listening the dispatch, the administrator was pretty sure he recognized the voices, and was also fairly certain that the call was a prank.  The end result of the police action also showed that calls were untrue.  However, due the nature of the threat, the heightened sense of fear around school shooters, and the proximity of our school to a child care center, the police moved prior to affording the principle the ability to listen to the dispatch.

This lockdown was unlike others.   There were teachers who we not happy with administrative stewardship in a time of crisis.  Two students now face criminal and school district consequences for there roll.  A teacher, in from whose room the students called, is also facing an uncertain future.   And, there are students whose opinion of law enforcement was reinforced by this display of force.

Most students intellectually understood the danger of the situation and the need to stay in their room.  However, many students still let their feeling inform their interpretation of the events rather than their intellectual self.    Some students still blame police rather than individuals who made the call.

Many students have brushed off the events as early as the day after with an “Meh….”  How many of these students draw connections with actions and consequents – long term or short term? What will happen to a veteran teacher, who cares about their students?  Do the students who love them, even make a connection?

A question that arose in a discussion with another teacher is about how to “take the lockdown seriously.”   A particular teacher had their students on the floor in the corner for the 90 minute lockdown.   This was how they took it serious.  I tried to keep my students calm by keeping their focus on their work.  They were engaged with learning activities instead of huddled, on the floor in one place.  I was unsuccessful in keeping them from their phones; however many of them were using their phones for the projects they were working on.  While I do not regret having them clustered under our red dot for 90 minutes, I have two big regrets.  Firstly, I did not ensure they were off their phones and attentive to me or the sounds around.   While using their electronics kept nearly all of the same calm and passive, it did keep them from hearing what was happening outside and could have been a problem if the nature of the danger was different.  Second, I did not prepare students for police entry.  I should have informed them about how the police may enter the room.  Not to make sudden movements, and stay in one spot.   A quick hands up and “Don’t shoot” may look different to an officer primed for engagement.   I feel like I did when my daughter was nearly hit by a car, but wasn’t – bizarre mix of thankfulness and anger.   It could have ended very differently, I’m thankful it did not.

As part of the restorative process, I think it is important for the officers and students to meet again in different circumstances.  Both parties ned to see each other in a different light.  Both parties need to ask each other questions like: “How did you feel when you entered our room?”  “What did you feel like when you saw us?”  “What were you thinking during the lockdown?” “Were you afraid?” “How do you feel now about what had happened?”

Fence mending is important.  Seeing each other as something other than our role is also important.