"It matters to that one student, and there's nothing small about her or him. That one student is someone's daughter or son sent to be in my care. She or he is a part of the future. I don't believe for one moment that one moment, one thing, one event, and especially one person in one class is little. So, I struggle not to live a life that is small and teach a class in a small way? No class is just another class to me. To do that, I come here to learn how to better do that."

"I never thought about it in that way. How do you do that?" he quietly asked. His tone had changed; his facial expressions had changed; his body language had changed. It was as if he wanted to care about the students, but because he didn't know how, he defensively had fallen back on what he did know: talking about nutrition. I subtly glanced at my watch in a way he wouldn't notice. A session I wanted to attend was about to start, but I had a gut feeling that I was being told to let who I deeply am carefully break through, sensitively show myself, and tenderly make myself felt. Deciding to follow the nudging of my soul, I stayed seated. "Here, read this," I said with an caring tone he cold not miss, as I pulled out a copy of my "Teacher's Oath" out from my conference bag. After a few silent minutes, I asked, "In one sentence, what do you think it all says?"

"It says I should do no harm. It also seems to say teaching is a call to service. It says each student is important. It says that teaching and learning is more than pedagogy. And, it says that if I focus on my teaching, on myself, their learning will take care of itself." There was a surprise, almost an excitement, certainly a discovery in his voice and gestures.

"Well, that's five sentences, but I'll accept them," I joked. "Now, you almost hit it. Teaching and learning is about pedagogy. I mean you've got to know the stuff of your discipline, and teaching that stuff, having students learn that stuff, is about acquiring and using instructional strategies, what we call 'pedagogies.' But, it's really about the organic intertwining and interdependence of three distinct yet inseparable pedagogies dealing with the mind, heart, and soul." His eyes grew intent; he leaned over slightly. "We talk about needing and teaching thinking skills. Let's call it 'cognitive intelligence.' But, there's also feeling skills. Let's call it 'emotional intelligence.' And finally, there's connecting skills. Let's call that 'social intelligence.' Feeling plus connecting plus thinking equals learning as well as teaching. When we talk about brain based research and pedagogy, too many of us focus solely on the last of the three skills, on the thinking skills. But, the driving energy of that skill, to get the most from using that skill, require we know about and use the other two as well, for both teaching and learning: self-confidence, self-esteem, self-respect, creativity, imagination, courage to take risks, not fearing mistakes, learning from mistakes, not feeling alone, and so on. Each has its own pedagogy; some of it we've know for a long time; and, each is verified by the latest brain-based research. And, the research says that as we use these intelligences in coordination with each other our achievement levels increase. It's like Craig Nelson said Friday, we've got to read the literature."

"It all sounds so 'fuzzy.'"

"It's the latest science," I firmly countered. If someone wants to talk about or have a conference theme about 'evidence based' teaching or 'brain based teaching,' they have to talk not just about brain anatomy and cognitive intelligence and consequent strategies, but about emotional intelligence and social intelligence with their strategies as well."

"It all sounds so hard and complicated."

"That's because its about people, and we people are so darn inconsiderate; we're so complicated and complex, and individual, nothing comes easy or simply."

"By the way, I've got a challenge for you," he said suddenly. "You reduce this page long Oath into one sentence."

"Damn," I thought to myself. "Give me a sec." I thought for a minute or so. Then, I said, "You and I matter, and what we do matters."

We talked and talked and talked. I offered him my "angel strategy" with which to experiment social and emotional intelligence, and I gave him a quick list of a few sources to look at: Deci, Burns, Doyle, Boyatzis, Goleman, Dweck, Freire, Gardner, Senge, Amabile, Csikszentmihalyi, Pink. I even threw in some Jack Kornfield and Jon Kabat-Zinn. I had lost track of time. Well, I really hadn't. I just had a gut feeling that this was one of those "call to service" moments. Finally, when I felt the time was right, I told him that I had to be rude and run to catch the last half of a session. As I got up, he asked quietly, "Can I keep this copy of your Oath to look over?"

"Sure, and buzz me any time you want if you want to talk some more," I said with a smile as I gave him my cell number and e-mail address, feeling that this may just be one of those It's a Wonderful Life intersections.

So, here I am heading for an inevitable wait at Atlanta's airport before I'm in Susan's arms thinking and feeling all this, to which was added the impact of a great conversation with Scott Simkins in his car at the Greensboro airport as we parked by the departure curb. When talking about learning, lots of people are jumping on the brain research band wagon as well they should, and I'm one of them. But, to be or not to be is not just a matter of to think or not to think. The rub, as Hamlet would say, is that it's also to feel or not to feel and to connect or not to connect. The rub is that we, our brains, are hard-wired to think, feel, and connect. To ignore the spirit and the heart, is not getting at the heart of an education and sucking the spirit out of it. Why do we love to utter but so often ignore that educational adage, "Students don't care what you know; they want to know that you care?" What do we think that means? It's okay to be unemotional, to be detached and disconnected, to be cold and distant? It's okay to be a negative pathological agent rather than a positive therapeutic one? It's okay to be an infecting toxin rather than a curing serum? It's okay to be an frightening weeder rather than a caring nurturer? No, to learn how to make that connection with people whom we don't know on a emotional and social level, as well as on an intellectual one, offers untold possibilities to help people and to change lives in amazing ways. The conference staff, my friends, that exchange with that professor, as well as the conversation with Scott, once again taught me that whether we like it or not, I have have an intense awareness and otherness, realizing that every moment of everyday puts us in a It's a Wonderful Life situation. We have to be always on the alert, for we never know when these "calls to service" appear. But, we do have to be ready to do, give, listen, see, say, touch, react, interact. You have to have the skills not just to think, but to feel and connect as well. Only then, can we help others help themselves learn, change, and grow. Only then can we learn, change, and grow. Fleeting moments and slight gestures they may be, but lasting impact they have; they can appear as mere ripples and have influences of tsunami proportions.

Think about it. Someday, somewhere, someone is a link in a vital chain because one person was there and because another was as well. That's what my "Teacher's Oath" is all about. It's really a contract for living. A sacred contract. It's the standard by which I evaluate myself. It guides the way I should feel about, think about, and act toward people. It guides me to smile, to see, to listen, to give, to help, to engage, to reach out, to respect, to support, to encourage, to uplift, to empathize, to love, to have hope for, to have faith in. It is unconditional. It is non-judgmental. It gives me a deep trust that there are great reasons in every small encounter, and because there are great reasons, no small encounter is small. And, if I didn't live the Oath, I may, probably will, miss a crossroad, a contact, a connection, that could have changed someone's life, maybe even mine. That's a heartbreaking thought. It's sad to think that when I was needed, was wanted, I failed to be around and that I didn't show up. It would be tragic if I missed an opportunity to change someone's life. I, you, we cannot let that happen. It leaves a hole in the fabric of the future.

In an academic culture that is too often egocentric, there is a huge threshold to cross when we enter that classroom. It is not about me, it's about them, maybe us. As teachers we are a candle for each of them. Wasn't it the Bard who said small candles cast light far and wide? That's what teaching is all about: chances for our candles to shine. As we collectively light our thinking, feeling, and connecting candles, the darkness recedes, revealing wondrous things. Everything else is commentary. I think many of us, like this professor, ignore these prompts to act or are afraid of them or reject them or don't know how to respond to them. That are a lot of reasons for how each of us reacts to these subtle prompts. My experience is that if I'm ready for them, my anxiety and fear level decreases immeasurably. I am at peace. I don't worry; I don't complain; I don't push; I don't rush; I don't impose; I don't control; I don't stress out; I don't fear. I am willing. I don't sweat it. It's like pulling in your oars and quietly letting the current carry you along. Anyway, don't tell me that miracles don't happen. I came to Lilly on a low and am leaving on a soaring high. Lilly has worked it's magic once again.