This year, I’d like to honor our veterans by sharing a version of the Armed Forces Medley performed at the 2011 National Memorial Day Concert in Washington, D.C. and dedicate it to the memory and honor of my brother
Martin B. Willadson
1959-2012
who served in the United States Army,
most recently CO C 230TH MED SUPP BAT
The instructor stood before his time management class with some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
So the instructor picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The instructor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up even more space. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous “yes.”
The instructor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the instructor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things–your family, your children, your health, your friends, your favorite passions–things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
“The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else; the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented.
The instructor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers.”
Note: I think I first heard this story nearly 20 years ago–unfortunately, the original author’s identity has been long lost… it’s making the rounds on the Internet and definitely is worthy of consideration!
Most people are familiar with the maxim, “Those who can’t do, teach.” We can speculate regarding its beginnings, but it’s come to be a bit of a “slam” on teachers as it implies those who fail at doing things can always teach. I am hoping I can raise the maxim without raising the debate because I think the maxim suggests an interesting question: “What about those who can’t teach? What do they do?”
I suppose we could have a “complete the maxim contest.” Those who can’t do, teach. Those who can’t teach, (fill in the blank).
See, once you dig below the implication that those who fail can always fall back on teaching, there’s an even more insidious implication that teaching doesn’t require very much skill. If you believe that, consider the experience of a recent adult student–and try to believe that the point of the story is not to brag about MY skill–it is to demonstrate the lack of logic behind thinking teaching doesn’t require skill.
She came to me for some help with a fairly specific subject. (I’m omitting lots of details to avoid embarrassing anybody.) Our initial discussion included her observation, “I really suck at this” and a high level of doubt that she would or could improve much. So here we have a situation where not only does she think she’s not very skilled–she also doesn’t have much confidence in me as a teacher. We did have a little chat about how we unconsciously prove ourselves correct.
We didn’t have to talk long before I figured out at least one reason she didn’t have much confidence in my teaching ability or herself. The person who’d been “teaching” her apparently sucked at teaching. He is a subject matter expert without question; but that’s a big part of the problem. He keeps on teaching the material HE understands but doesn’t understand why his student “doesn’t get it.”
I can help him with that. She isn’t “getting it” in a large part because he isn’t very good at explaining (teaching) it. Let me hasten to add, I’m not saying he’s a bad person. He actually does care about this student. He also obviously cares a great deal about the subject. He just doesn’t “care” (Ben Franklin observed, “Ignorance is bliss.”) about how he teaches. In fairness, it’s not his profession. But at some level, he apparently subscribes to the idea that teaching isn’t very difficult.
So I worked with the student for a while, ultimately sending her home with a lot of stickers on her sweater. “Good job! Wow! A+! You did it!” She’s pretty sure her kids are going to think that’s both funny and cool. I’m not naive enough to claim she “got it” all and neither is she. But she was at least wearing a smile with her stickers and feeling like she was making some learning progress.
I can’t help but wonder if she’ll tell her “teacher” that she may suck at the subject, but he really sucks at teaching. Another debate we often have in the teaching arena is whether or not the teacher has to be good at or well-educated in a particular subject or discipline to teach it. Personally, I’d like to declare that an invalid debate.
There is a proverb attributed to Buddha that almost gets it right with the claim, “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” That makes it sound a bit mystical and magical when it’s actually about a simple balance. There are teaching skills and there are learning skills. Both can and should be developed. A skilled teacher and a skilled learner create that magic. Suggesting that teaching requires little or no skill isn’t fair–it makes the learner totally responsible for the learning. Suggesting that learning requires little or no skill isn’t fair either because that makes the teacher totally responsible for the teaching. Maybe we should re-write the maxim.
Those who can’t do, teach. Those who can’t teach, learn.Among the many things that can be learned is how to teach! In the last few decades we have been discovering some exciting new ways we can teach people because we are beginning to understand how people learn. So to those who think teaching isn’t very difficult, I agree, it’s not–unless you want to do it well. And you won’t do it well until you understand that teaching is really about learning.
“You have to decide what your highest priorities are and have the courage – pleasantly, smilingly, non-apologetically – to say ‘no’ to other things. And the way to do that is by having a bigger ‘yes’ burning inside. The enemy of the ‘best’ is often the ‘good.’”
– Dr. Stephen Covey
This quote appeared in my inbox this morning as a “thought starter.” How appropriate to start the day thinking about priorities! There are two very important thoughts in these few sentences.
The idea of being almost obsessive with our priorities is not, of course, new. Tom Peters coined a descriptive term some years ago–a “monomaniac with a mission.” In just a few words we see the accomplishment value of one person with one mission. We’ve all seen it in action. You get one person who has real passion and purpose, get her focused and there’s really no stopping her. These people become the heroes of our society–assuming, of course, their mission is positive!
The second thought in this quote is the idea that the enemy of “best” is often “good.” How many times have we found ourselves saying something is “good enough” or “close enough?” In Maine we have a rather colorful expression to describe it.
“A blind man on a galloping horse will never notice…”
I suppose it creates perspective. But at the same time it’s really saying “that’s pretty bad. The only person who won’t notice is blind and going by pretty fast.”
While any project or passion requires practicality, we really ought to guard against the “good enough” mentality because Covey is right. Good can be the enemy of best.
Occasionally I’ll encounter an adult student who seems to merit a nickname and some gentle teasing at the start of class. “And how is my little overachiever today?” But that student knows it’s not such a bad label and it’s a bit unfortunate that our system implies over-achievers are placing too much stress on themselves. There is a balance in all of this, but I’ll take a class of over-achievers before a class of “how can I squeak by” students any day.
So we need to think about our “yes’s” and our “no’s.” And we need to be careful when we start saying “yes” to good because it might mean we are saying “no” to our best.