Starting from scratch
When I was pursuing a doctorate in the School of Education at ISU, I took a Curriculum class in which we were assigned, in groups, to write a curriculum for a high school from scratch. Each of us in the group took a section of the whole; mine was the humanities. I assumed I had been given the freedom to think about what the humanities curriculum should look like as if no one had ever done it before, and what I came up with startled some people. The others in my group immediately went to some local high schools and got copies of their curriculum guides and did a cut-and-paste to make up their sections.
My fellow group members were probably more practical than I was, but their product was (in my view) simple herd-following. If we’re learning how to design a curriculum, shouldn’t we design one from first principles, instead of assembling a Frankenstein’s monster of other people’s ideas? In the real world, of course, one rarely gets the chance to implement one’s fantasies. The real world is made up of existing institutions and stakeholders and people who expect things to look like what they’re used to.
So, when I was given the lead on a project to design the new Candidacy Guidebook for the Global Methodist Church, I immediately sat down and wrote up a sketch outline to get my best ideas on paper (well, electronic file, anyway). And I sent it off to my fellow team member. She liked what I had done, and sent me back a copy of what her Conference Board of Ordained Ministry is using to guide candidates through the current UMC guidebook. It was well laid out, full of helpful tables, all there for the using. And there you have the beginnings of the struggle of writing something that will actually be used.
We need to rethink things. We need fresh approaches. But the people who will use what we produce are used to doing certain things certain ways, and there are some things that simply have to be included. You can’t re-invent the wheel, but you don’t have to make this car look like every other car on the market. Yet the thing has got to travel the roads as they exist. The push and pull of this process is going to be exhausting, but it’s still a healthy process.
My daughter asked me what our deadline was. I said the GMC needs all the materials for ministry yesterday. Realistically, if we have something workable by the fall/end of the year I’ll be happy. So our writing team will pass it on to the task force, which will probably take it to pieces and put it back together, and then it’ll go to the Transitional Leadership Council and probably get sent back for rewrites, etc. etc. The editing will be brutal, I expect, and that’s not fun for any writer. But submitting your work for others to review is part of the general mortification of the flesh that all Christians are supposed to do. If you want to get your best licks in, you have to remember that it’s not all about you. And the essence of ministry is offering yourself that God might work through you. The more complete your submission, the more the real you will shine through your work. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I start on the work.
I’m also asking, What have I got myself into?
My fellow group members were probably more practical than I was, but their product was (in my view) simple herd-following. If we’re learning how to design a curriculum, shouldn’t we design one from first principles, instead of assembling a Frankenstein’s monster of other people’s ideas? In the real world, of course, one rarely gets the chance to implement one’s fantasies. The real world is made up of existing institutions and stakeholders and people who expect things to look like what they’re used to.
So, when I was given the lead on a project to design the new Candidacy Guidebook for the Global Methodist Church, I immediately sat down and wrote up a sketch outline to get my best ideas on paper (well, electronic file, anyway). And I sent it off to my fellow team member. She liked what I had done, and sent me back a copy of what her Conference Board of Ordained Ministry is using to guide candidates through the current UMC guidebook. It was well laid out, full of helpful tables, all there for the using. And there you have the beginnings of the struggle of writing something that will actually be used.
We need to rethink things. We need fresh approaches. But the people who will use what we produce are used to doing certain things certain ways, and there are some things that simply have to be included. You can’t re-invent the wheel, but you don’t have to make this car look like every other car on the market. Yet the thing has got to travel the roads as they exist. The push and pull of this process is going to be exhausting, but it’s still a healthy process.
My daughter asked me what our deadline was. I said the GMC needs all the materials for ministry yesterday. Realistically, if we have something workable by the fall/end of the year I’ll be happy. So our writing team will pass it on to the task force, which will probably take it to pieces and put it back together, and then it’ll go to the Transitional Leadership Council and probably get sent back for rewrites, etc. etc. The editing will be brutal, I expect, and that’s not fun for any writer. But submitting your work for others to review is part of the general mortification of the flesh that all Christians are supposed to do. If you want to get your best licks in, you have to remember that it’s not all about you. And the essence of ministry is offering yourself that God might work through you. The more complete your submission, the more the real you will shine through your work. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I start on the work.
I’m also asking, What have I got myself into?