When I was
in college many years ago all freshmen participants in the sports
programs had to attend a seminar about the university’s expectations of student-athletes.
I just remember several coaches from all the diverse sports, along with the
athletic director, telling us to represent
on campus and in the classroom. They mentioned that a few professors already
thought every athlete was a dumb jock so we weren’t supposed to feed into that
stereotype. The main points of the discussion were the importance of:
1) communicating with the professor about when we
were going to be gone
on road trips,
2) getting any assignments we’d be missing or to reschedule
labs and/or exams promptly,
3) arriving to class early, and
4) the school officials emphasized sitting near the front of
the room.
Sitting in
the front meant you cared. It communicated that you valued the class and the
professor. Sitting in the front meant you were willing to participate. At least
that’s what they told us. I was never a dumb jock and in most of my classes I
don’t think I would’ve chosen to sit in the back(well okay maybe a few of the
really boring classes) but that speech has always been in my head. And all
these years later as a high school teacher myself, when students get to choose
their seats in my class and certain students choose to sit in the back of the
room the above statements run through my mind. But conversely, I also think
about these things when I choose my own seats be it in meetings, in seminars,
or in church.
I’ll be honest I don’t always sit
in the front, in fact, there have been many times I’ve chosen to sit in the
back row. Times that I needed to leave early. Or times I wasn’t feeling well. Or
even times my friends wanted to sit in the back of a meeting. Those are all
good reasons, right? But there are other reasons I’ve sat in the back— because
I wasn’t interested, so I could make a quick get-a-way, because I didn’t want
to be stuck. Well, this past Sunday I went to hear a dear friend sing at a
church that I hadn’t been to in quite a while. She had told me before that she’d
be near the front with other people. I didn’t really know her new friends and
thought it might be awkward so instead of sitting up front I chose to sit in
the back. The very back, by the door. A lone.
I thought about my seating choice
during the service and decided that this might be an analogy . . . that I’ve
been sitting on the back seat of my life way too long. In certain areas I’ve
been passive, professionally and personally. Perhaps I’ve even become
half-hearted in participating in my own existence. Maybe cynicism had kept me
on the last row. Fear? Fear of being swept up by insincere people or caught up
in something I have reservations concerning. In some ways it does seem safer in
the back where no one will see you. Where you can limit your engagement and
take in the environment, but not really partake.
I heard my friend sing a beautiful
song and after the service I went up to find her and her new friends. I don’t
want to live a passive life. I don’t want to just play it safe. I want to care
about what’s going on and I want to engage with those around me. An introspective
investigation of my own seating choice leads me now to these questions, where are you sitting? And most significant of all, why are you sitting there?
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