Tag Archives: achievement

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

Re- What?

I recently announced that after nearly two decades of teaching real estate, I’m “retiring” this spring! For the past several years, I’ve limited myself to teaching QE (qualifying education—“pre-licensing”) courses only. I will be teaching the Sales Agent and Associate Broker Courses in March/April for the last time.

Among the comments I heard were, “I can’t picture you retiring.”

I confess I had some trouble myself. One of the people I talked to while considering the decision was a good friend and colleague, Jack Falvey. I met Jack in the late 1970s. I’ve been a few years behind him ever since. He’s one of the most down-to-earth people I know, and he has a fantastic ability to cut to the chase. One of his bits of advice was to stop referring to the event as “retirement” and shift to the word “repotting.” He explained, “You’re just going to grow in a different place.”

He was prophetic.

Shortly after the announcement of my retirement repotting, I was offered a position with Beal University. My new “pot” is their Addiction Counseling Program, where I’ll be an adjunct instructor.

One of the more exciting aspects of the position is that Beal University’s curriculum and practice closely follow the flipped or inverted classroom approach. A somewhat oversimplified explanation is in a flipped classroom, what was traditionally done in class is now done at home (online), while what was done as homework is now done in class under the guidance of the instructor.  This appeals to me greatly.

I’ve become increasingly aware that SMEs (subject matter experts) are often disadvantaged in the teaching and learning environment. For one thing, students tend to focus and depend on the instructor’s knowledge, and the instructor gets caught up in being “the sage on the stage,” attempting to dispense that knowledge. There’s been much talk over the past decade of moving from the “sage on the stage role” to a “guide on the side” role, but it’s a tough transition.

The source of the quote is debatable, but its accuracy is not. “College is where a professor’s lecture notes go straight to the students’ lecture notes, without passing through the brains of either.”[i]

It’s actually not limited to college—and, in fact, many colleges are flipping their classrooms in ways that diminish the need for subject matter expertise and increase the need for facilitators who can make learning happen.

For those worried about my qualifications, you can check out some of my certifications and read my teaching philosophy. Don’t miss the short story of my day teaching second-year Spanish—a language I do not speak. Another short story involving my young friend Amish friend Hanna Rose makes an important point for anyone who claims the moniker “teacher.”

On an even more personal note, some may know that I remain good friends with my high school English teacher, Tony (“Mr.”) Russo. He’s now an adjunct with several online colleges. I can’t wait for his reaction to this announcement.

And I’m interested in your reaction… While exploring this opportunity, I told several people, “I think I’m ready for academia. But I wonder if academia is ready for me?”


[i] There’s an interesting discussion of the variations and attributions of this quote at https://quoteinvestigator.com/2012/08/17/lecture-minds/.

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.

Where You Fly Makes a Difference

One of my more fun presentations is a series of stories beginning with one young fellow who spots a dead rainbow. Rainbows are, of course about hope and so are most of the stories. Some of the stories are sad, and some are funny, but each leads to the inescapable conclusion that where we stand makes a difference. Sometimes it’s a difference to ourselves. Sometimes it’s a difference to someone else.

Two of the stories are about bullying. One is about a little guy named Rudolph who is a victim of some typical bullying. The story shows that when it comes to bullying, where you stand (or in this case fly) can make all the difference.

The story is told in a simple song published by Montgomery Ward in 1939. While it may not have been originally intended as such, it really is a song about overcoming bullying. We didn’t call it bullying back then, but today we probably would. Fortunately, I don’t sing the song, I merely recite it as poetry with some editorial comment.

“You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
You know Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen,
But do you recall
The most famous reindeer of all?

Here’s a little experiment for you. Close your eyes and, without singing the song or reciting the line from “Twas the Night Before Christmas” try to list Santa’s Reindeer. You’ll probably find the song irresistible, but I’m betting the eight regular sleigh-pullers aren’t all that memorable. You don’t readily recall them, but you do recall the most famous reindeer of all. That’s significant. You recall him because…

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Had a very shiny nose
And if you ever saw it
You would even say it glows.

Rudolph stood out in a crowd because he didn’t exactly fit in with the crowd. He wasn’t like the other reindeer. While we don’t know how old he was, he’s often pictured with very small horns suggesting he’s an adolescent. We know that “fitting in” is very important during adolescence, so there’s little doubt Rudolph was not a very happy reindeer. He probably hated his nose. And it didn’t help that the other reindeer were bullies who made fun of him.

All of the other reindeer
Used to laugh and call him names
They never let poor Rudolph
Join in any reindeer games.

Reindeer can be mean, can’t they!? And so can kids. It’s a complicated social dynamic, but a kid who is different—maybe wears a different style of clothing or has a different physical characteristic (a red nose?)—gets ostracized and maybe worse. Simply being ignored by others can be painful. Being the last one standing when teams are selected is terrible enough. But when they start to laugh and call names, the hurt and pain can seem unbearable.

I think it’s interesting that Santa apparently doesn’t take action. He could have started an anti-bullying program. Maybe created a stop-bullying policy and hung up some kindness posters in the barn. In fairness to Santa, we’re not sure if he knew what the other reindeer were doing to Rudolph. He was probably busy keeping an eye on the elves and all the kids. How else could he know if they’ve been bad or good? He clearly had plenty on his plate besides the milk and cookies kids often leave him. So we can perhaps forgive him for not knowing that his reindeer were being mean to Rudolph.

We might also wonder why the SPCA didn’t respond and try to protect Rudolph, although it’s not clear whether cruelty among or between animals is covered by their mission statements. They seem a bit more focused on human cruelty and neglect of animals.  Rudolph simply did not have much of a support system.

Let’s look at what did happen.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve,
Santa came to say,
“Rudolph, with your nose so bright,
Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

The song doesn’t record Rudolph’s answer. I suppose he could have said, “The heck with you—why should I help after what I’ve been put through by those other reindeer!?” We only know that Rudolph was finally recognized as having something to contribute. Ironically, the very thing that had separated him from the herd became the very thing that gave him status. Instead of cowering in the corner of the barn, Rudolph became the leader of the herd. And the results of that change were significant.

 Then how the reindeer loved him,
As they shouted out with glee,
“Rudolph the red-nose Reindeer
You’ll go down in history!”

Consider what didn’t change. Rudolph didn’t get nose surgery and his nose didn’t dim. The eight other reindeer didn’t attend some anti-bullying intervention and suddenly become more loving and accepting.

Circumstances changed. It became foggy. (We could rightfully wonder how all of Santa’s previous trips were on clear nights, but that would spoil the song and story.)

What ultimately happened is, I think, most important. Santa does play an important role in the outcome of the story. He’s obviously more troubled over the foggy night than he had been regarding Rudolph’s status with the herd. That reality might put a little smudge on Santa’s image, but let’s be honest. He needed a solution to the foggy night problem.

And there was Rudolph with his nose all aglow—a solution to a problem. Santa saw him differently for the first time—not as a misfit reindeer with a defective nose. So, perhaps grudgingly, Rudolph steps to the front.  He had to raise his head so the glow would light the way. And in that moment—as is often the case with children’s stories—all is well! Everybody’s happy! Santa can make his deliveries. The eight bully reindeer no longer worry about running into things in the fog. They are shouting with glee!  In all of the picture books I’ve seen, Rudolph is smiling, and his head is held high, not just to light the way but because he feels valued.

The song doesn’t record whether or not the “other” reindeer change permanently. Sure, they were shouting out with glee, but that was because they were able to complete their rounds without hazard. The question that remains unanswered is whether or not they became any kinder and more accepting as a result of the experience. If another reindeer came to the barn with, say, a deformed antler, would they laugh and call him names? Would they let poor Bent Antler join in any reindeer games?

I don’t know.

One thing I am fairly certain of, though. I think Rudolph began to think differently of himself. While I am sorry for his pain, I’m also glad that no one stepped in and deprived him of the opportunity to do just that—to learn and discover who he was—uniquely and individually.

What we think of ourselves goes much further in defining who we are than what others think. A change of circumstances may trigger it, but the real change lies within ourselves. Our self-value beats a red nose or bent antler any day. Where we stand (or fly) makes a difference

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.”