Sunday, December 5, 2010

"Dear Death, can you help me live?"

At the beginning of every class of new students, I present a piece* on the most important principle of my life: Death. That's right.  I live my life according to death. (What better first-impression than a Debbie-downer topic like death?).   Here's the brutal truth of it though:  Someday, I'm going to die.   Someday, you are going to die.  Everyone knows this; yet, most seem to assume that the wink of death will happen years from now.  Hopefully it will.  But maybe it won't.  Maybe today is my last day.  Maybe today is your last day.  So, if that were the case, how would you live today differently?  How would you get the most out of every second?


When one has this image in mind -- mortality -- it's amazing seeing what energy and motivation emerges.  Maybe, instead of playing two hours of Call of Duty today, I'll actually learn that phrase in Spanish I always wanted to know because today might be my last.  Maybe, instead of clicking "refresh" on my Facebook homepage for the tenth time, I'll finally call up my brother to tell him how much I look up to him because today might be my last.  Or maybe, instead of complaining about how much [insert nonsense here] sucks, I'll try to change someone's life because today might be my last.

Ultimately, it is this driving force that has helped popularize "bucket lists."  Our modern media is starting to bank on the idea with movies like The Bucket List and shows like MTV's The Buried Life (Finally, MTV has produced something that doesn't make me want to stick my head in a blender).  People are starting to pull themselves from dull stupors and look at how they're living their lives -- recognizing that life is fragile and impermanent. 

At the back of my room, I have posted my list I've had for three years.  99 items -- one for every time I've said, "I'd love to ____" or "I've always wanted to _____."  For weeks, students had been asking me about the items on my bucket list, how I checked some off, why some of them were added, when I'll complete others. Many even asked frequently, "Can we make our own lists in class?"  Wait. Was that a request for an assignment? 

Request granted.  In the closing week of our trimester, after days of exam prep and brain pain, we decided to end our trimester with the same theme with which we started:  Death.  Welcome back Death.  Can you help me with this assignment?  I need some inspiration.  At the end, each student wrote at least thirty things they want to do before they pass away.  Some wrote as many as one-hundred and twenty.  Some topics were bizarre:


Fill an old swimming pool with Jello
Go to a random stranger and say, “You’re the best friend I ever had.”
Go to Wal-Mart in Darth Vader costume and “Force Choke” some people. 
Draw a perfect circle freehand
Tee-pee my grandparent’s house
Invent a helicopter boat-house
Walk through a “drive-thru”
Chest bump a sumo wrestler


Others sent warmth through my veins:


Foster a child
Discover my life’s purpose
Have a college education
Help a struggling family have a merry Christmas by leaving toys and food on their doorstep
Find love
Hug 50 strangers in one day
Be able to support my brother
Tell a stranger, “You’re beautiful”
Donate everything I have before I die
Go through high school and college without drinking alcohol
Raise a thousand dollars for cancer research


These students are starting to live.  And, best of all, we are now engaged in a community of accountability. Our classes, though disbanded for the new trimester, are still in contact and sharing successes and accomplishments with their lists.  Because, it's one thing to write a list.  It's another to live a list. 

So, how are you making the most of your moments?  Because, today could be your last.  Make it count.

*The piece, This Is It! was created and developed by The Quantum Learning Network's ridiculously talented curriculum writers and facilitators.  Much credit.  Much love.   

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