Category Archives: Learning

How Many Priorities Should You Have?

“The key is not to prioritize what’s on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities.”

Steven Covey

Busyness has always interested me. In 2017, I wrote an article called “Just How Busy Are You, Really?” It attempted to create some thinking about prioritizing and how being “busy” can become a status symbol. Several years later, the question became, “You’re Not Busy, Are You?” It took a slightly different slant but raised some of the same questions about busyness. You may want to read both later. First, let me share how a young Amish girl drove it home recently.

We met some friends from an Amish Family during an annual visit to Pennsylvania. Two of the younger girls were our first encounter at their gift shop. We’d provided a “gift bag” that included an item that required some explanation because it was a bit of a joke. I noted that their older sister “Rachel” might use it in her job as an Amish Teacher. (Last year was her first year. We’d shared some thoughts on teaching and explored some of the differences between an Amish one-room schoolhouse and my experience as a substitute teacher in a public school. )

The youngest girl, “Katie,” advised us that Rachel would not be teaching this fall. I expressed some surprised concern–she’d seemed quite passionate about teaching. Nine-year-old Katie explained, “She’s in a relationship.”

Janice asked, “Do we like him?” Katie replied, quite matter-of-factly, “Rachel does.”

When Rachel joined us, I couldn’t resist singing, “Rachel’s got a boyfriend.” She rolled her eyes and laughed, giving Katie a “you told, didn’t you” look. She didn’t offer much about him, but in explaining her decision not to teach this fall, she shared in Amish matter-of-fact tones, “I believe it’s best not to have too many priorities in life.”

When talking with the Amish, I try to consider their point of view because it’s often quite different from most. I’ve used the description “matter of fact” intentionally in describing Katie and Rachel’s explanation. The Amish are often referred to as “plain people.” Katie and Rachel spoke plainly–some would say “simply,” but that’s not entirely accurate. The Amish point of view is one where marriage and family are a huge priority–throughout their entire lives. It can seem strange or even backward to us “Englischers,” who are often focused on individuality, education, and careers.

The point here is not to understand Rachel’s decision but to see the clarity of her priorities. (She was busy weed-wacking the fence line of the family farm when we arrived.)

I don’t know precisely how old Rachel is, but probably in her late teens. She has figured out something most of us don’t. Ultimately, how busy we are is a matter of our priorities. And, for the most part, our priorities are of our own choosing.

Rachel didn’t complain that she was weed-whacking in temperatures in the high nineties with oppressive humidity. She apologized for her sweaty appearance and made it clear she would get right back at it following our visit.

I think one reason I enjoy the Amish so much is their unassuming and selfless outlook. From what I’ve seen, they don’t complain much. Gellasenheit*. Most of the Amish I know don’t give advice. They live it. Rachel doesn’t know it, but she has helped me make several important decisions. Those decisions are based on the possibility I just might have too many priorities in my life.

She’s also aroused my curiosity. I’ll ask her if she has a bucket list the next time we visit. I won’t be surprised if she replies, “What is that?”

We Englischers seem to live with a deficit approach wherein life is about what we don’t have and how we’re going to get it. When we start to think we’re too busy, it may be time to remember Rachel. “It’s best not to have too many priorities in life.”

*Gellasenheit is a difficult concept to explain in a few words, but it’s about “yieldedness” and letting things be. It helps explain the Amish tendency to yield to tradition and “let things be.”

Twain on Training

I couldn’t resist the alliteration, even though this is about education (which many think is different from training).

“Covid Crazy” isn’t on the DSM yet (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), but I won’t be surprised when it appears. I wish I could remember who said, “We got used to staying home, and it’s like nobody wants to crawl out from under the blankets.” Most of us have days when that sounds good–the pandemic seems to have increased the trend geometrically. It will be fifty years before we even begin to understand the impact of the pandemic and our collective response to it, including how it impacted our happiness and enjoyment.

He’d be tarred, feathered, and lynched in today’s world, but my college psych professor was memorable for saying, “If rape is inevitable, you might as well enjoy it.” It is a horrible statement, but he was trying to make the point that we should approach things we have to do with an upbeat attitude. There’s probably a better example, but it was memorable. (I also remember him biting an apple and throwing it at the class.)

I taught a course years ago that aimed at increasing job satisfaction. Many people became so focused on hating work they were missing opportunities. It was/is a question of focus. At the time, I coined the phrase “ritualistic complaining.” One of the ideas behind the course was to get out of the habit of focusing on the negatives.

We’ve scratched on the surface of its effect on education, but education has had some systemic issues for at least fifty years.

I am often disappointed with how many students attend educational events with a “let’s get it over with” attitude. I’ve always believed part of my job is to make the experience enjoyable and meaningful, even for those who came with a “let’s get it over with” attitude.

Most people enjoy learning. A lot of education takes the joy out of learning. It’s also human nature to want to learn. If we didn’t, we’d still be crawling around on our hands and knees. There are a lot of Facebook users who never attended a class, but they are adept at using it. Some of those same people complain that they don’t get good training at work.

Mark Twain quit school when he was 11. He later said things like, “Don’t let schooling interfere with your education.” Another favorite is, “Some people get an education without going to college. The rest get it after they get out.” The longer I’m in the education business, the more apparent it becomes that the model could stand some improvement. He also said, “One can be both entertained and educated and not know the difference.”

(I’ve not vetted these quotes, but they sound like something he’d say.)

A proverb (not attributed to Mark Twain) suggests, “Ignorance is bliss.” It has some value as a coping mechanism. We can avoid unpleasantness if we hide under the covers and remain ignorant. Perhaps it would be more accurate to suggest we can avoid thinking about things we find unpleasant. It doesn’t change the things we are avoiding, but it does change our feelings about them. A non-clinical term for it is “sticking our heads in the sand.” If you’d like to go clinical, Google the Dunning-Kruger Effect.

I occasionally acknowledge I’m prone to being a crusader. I don’t think I have a messiah complex. I definitely have no desire to become a martyr; apparently, that often involves dying. But I just might become an education reformer.

“If ignorance is bliss, why isn’t the world happier?”

Mark Twain

It All Fits… Big Words or Small

Someone recently asked me to explain “karma.” My tongue was slightly in my cheek when I replied, “It’s a way of explaining things we can’t explain.”

Sometimes it’s a simple matter of creating and connecting the dots.

So let’s go with “karma” to explain a handful of things that have happened over the last few days that are unrelated but seem to fit together.

in conversation with a friend who admitted to being very discouraged adding, “I always feel better after getting your view on things.” I explained that contrary to appearances, I am not an eternal optimist. I am, however, a huge believer in our potential as human beings.

Shortly after that conversation, I read a post by Seth Godin. He noted some random things that probably happened today–huge and tiny–and observed, “On this date, someone took a chance, connected, opened a door or showed up with generosity.”

Next came my weekly newsletter from Child Mind Institute, an organization dedicated to “transforming children’s mental health.” Here’s where the big words come in. The article explained, “Behavioral Activation,” a method used to combat depression. A less clinical explanation of “B.A.” might describe helping kids figure out what they value, then stimulating them to action–doing something related to what they value.

I can over-simplify despite my tendency to be an overthinker. Those are not in opposition–a topic for future consideration.

When we feel discouraged, it might be time to think about what’s truly important to us. Our values should drive our mission–not a particularly big word, but one about which there is much confusion. Since we’re simplifying, we can substitute what’s on our bucket list or any other way of describing our essential values.

Not too long ago, I spoke with a recent high school graduate who shared that she was working to save up enough money for a huge eighteenth birthday-celebration. Some would argue that’s not a mission; it’s a goal. But it focuses on what she values, and that’s what matters. Arguing about the label misses the point. (I managed not to ask about her college plans. That might come after the party. Whether we call it a “mission” or a “goal, it’s hers and she owns it.)

She was quite confident she could achieve her celebration. She seems to have a grasp on her potential. She’s discovering how to connect the dots. I didn’t point out that researching where to have her celebration qualifies as “behavioral activation.”

Of course, it takes more than confidence to achieve a result. Maybe. There’s a wonderful story about a child, crayons in hand, drawing quite intensely. The teacher asks what he’s drawing, and he replies, “A picture of God.” She says, “But no one knows what God looks like…” Without hesitation, he declares, “They will when I get finished.”

He was on a mission.

Missions provide meaning. If you feel discouraged, you may have lost the meaning. It’s the first dot. What you can and are willing to do might be the next one. Get started creating and connecting the dots. It might be just that simple.

Peek-a-boo!

It’s so much more than a game…

We need to listen to what Molly has to say. She packs a lot of truth into seven minutes–ironically, she was seven years old when she recorded this last year. She might be the youngest TED speaker ever. She’s definitely one of the best!

Don’t miss her quick demonstration on brain size. I was more correct than I knew when I titled “Small People — Big Brains.”

It’s Not a Problem…

When I assigned myself the task of writing a tribute to Arthur Gary, I underestimated the difficulty. One immediate problem is coming up with a descriptive label. As I sorted through some choices (icon, educator, born teacher, colleague), the best I came up with (which feels woefully inadequate but accurate) is “friend.”

For those who may not know, I had the distinct honor and privilege of working with Arthur for some years (2004-2017) as an instructor with the then Arthur Gary School of Real Estate. I choose the word “with” deliberately. He always displayed an uncanny balance between self-confidence and humility. He never looked down on people–or up at them. He always looked them straight in the eye.

A second challenge was identifying some meaningful memories to share–there are so many. A personal favorite happened because he left me “alone” to teach with “academic freedom.” He would suggest there were some things I might do that he’d prefer I not tell him. As a result of that independence and mutual respect, not all students in the Bangor area had an opportunity to meet and know him until later in their career. So it is not a surprise that one day in a prelicensing class, a female student raised her hand, indicating she had a question.

“Is there really a person named Arthur Gary?” she asked. I pondered briefly the idea that he might have a certain mythical quality about him. He was a “giant” in the real estate industry. When I assured her he did exist, she continued, “Then I have a follow-up question. Is he hot?”

The rest of the class enjoyed a laugh both at her question and my obvious difficulty deciding how to answer.

Of course, I couldn’t resist telling him the story, suggesting that perhaps he should consider making a cameo appearance at some of my pre-licensing classes. I should have anticipated that wouldn’t suffice. After listening to my suggestion, He said, “I want to know how you answered the second question.”

Arthur and I had a lot of fun–especially with the fact that he was given to precision. I can be a perfectionist, but I am given to see more gray. I’d describe an “agent,” and he’d interrupt. “Did they have a client? Do you mean “licensee?” He kept me on my toes, and he always made me think. He wanted to “get it right,” and he expected others to have the same commitment.

I learned much from him, as did many others. But I most appreciated the sometimes subtle ways he made people think. It’s been said that “imitation is the finest form of flattery,” and to this day, I find myself quoting him. The title of this tribute is the beginning of one of his bits of wisdom.

In recent years, we had some frank discussions about his health. I sort of expected him to live forever. If I had said that to him, I think he’d have replied, “It’s not a problem until it’s a problem.” And now it is a problem for me. I’ve lost a friend who I cared for very much. I know I am not alone in my sadness. But I feel alone because the phone won’t ring again with his cheerful “Mr. B!” greeting. And I won’t be calling him with the greeting, “Mr. G!” so we can ruminate on a fine point of law and rule or complain about the sad state of education.

Another favorite bit of Arthur’s wisdom I use on those rare occasions when class ends early (never more than ten minutes). “Education is the only consumer product that people are happy with when they don’t get what they paid for…” Students would immediately start packing and we’d add, “You paid to be here until… my guess is you won’t complain if you get dismissed ten minutes early…”

Arthur, you left us too early.