When I taught school, each year began with a day of teacher training. Presenters came in to talk to our staff about subjects like team building, new teaching methods, and personal development. One time, we all met in our school’s multi-purpose room and the question posed by our facilitator was, “Who was your most influential teacher and why?” The purpose perhaps was to remind each of us of the impact we could have on our students. Another year, we were introduced to a color chart to record daily student behavior. This time, the reason was to implement a school-wide system that would keep teachers, students, and parents on the same page regarding expectations.
From my journal: August 22, 2011, Thousand Oaks, California
“A teacher from Pepperdine came in and had us do a handwriting exercise…made me really think…not just about teaching.”
In this meeting with the Pepperdine teacher, each attendee was asked to write their name on a page in their notebook. Then the instructor asked us to put our writing implement into our non-dominant hand and write our name again. Next, she asked for our observations. As you’d expect, comments like, “it was harder to write with the hand we don’t usually use” and “it was difficult to read what I wrote” were echoed throughout the auditorium. It soon became apparent that this exercise was to get us to think about the effort we put into activities. Should we hone skills we’re good at, or spend time strengthening ones that don’t come naturally to us? With just so many hours in a day, how should we spend our time?
I am often reminded of this exercise whenever I am faced with something I’m not particularly good at. For example, I was making mango salsa recently and when it came time to cut the fruit and peel the skin back to reveal neat little squares, once again mine were a mangled mess! It’s easy for me to see that my cutting skills are not up to par. However, the consequence of this type of task isn’t detrimental. I mean what’s the worst that can happen? Sharing this dish with others, would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care? No, probably not. So I have ask myself, is it worth my time to watch yet another video on “How to Dice a Mango” only to get the same results?
I’m not good at keeping orchids alive either. They are beautiful and often people give them to me. But these same well-meaning thoughtful people should wonder why they don’t see the lovely plant they gifted me in our house ever again. My horticultural skills leave something to be desired. It doesn’t matter how much advice I get from those whose green thumbs they flourish under, or plant growing books I consult, or “Caring for Orchids” videos I watch. I’m just not good at it. Knowing this, I don’t buy them, and I highly recommend never walking through our front door with one. It will only end up in our compost pile, where alas, all the others have gone.
Another thing that doesn’t come naturally to me is using current technology. This issue is far more reaching and can have undesirable, perhaps dire consequences, so is it worth my time to strengthen my technology skills? In this case, I’d say yes. Computers, phones, streaming devices…ov vey! They give me a headache, mainly because as soon as I know how to use any of these vital components to our modern-day life, they change! I actually take handwritten notes whenever I am learning any process. It could be something like how to revert my search engine back to Google on my Dell computer when Microsoft’s Office software decides to change it to theirs, or how to listen to music through a Klipsch Austin speaker from the SiriusXM app I have on my iPhone, or how to locate a recorded LG TV series stored in My Stuff on Hulu. When an update occurs on any of these devices, which inevitably it does, and also too often for my liking, I lose my sense of direction, I lose my step-by-step instructions, then I lose my mind. But still, I persevere, because I must.
As I get older, I’m getting better at prioritizing what I need to learn and what is worth my time. And I’m finding comfort in being honest regarding what’s better left to others. But, getting here hasn’t been easy. It’s taken years, maybe decades. But why? Maybe it’s my ego, maybe I don’t want to admit I need help or don’t know how to do something? We can’t be good at everything, well unless you’re Leonardo da Vinci, Mary Somerville, or Stephen Hawking, all polymaths. People supremely talented across multiple disciplines and fields. A polymath, I am not. But ask me to plan and host a dinner party, create a greeting card, or polish stainless steel appliances to a bright shine, those things I can do well. So, going forward, I will continue to spend my time honing the skills I am good at while relying on others to assist me with things I need to learn that I am not good at. In my book this is definitely, time well spent.
A Journal Journey 