Barb Ridener

My Math Story

BarbPosted on July 22, 2019 Posted in Uncategorized — No Comments ↓

Why do all good (significant) memories have a story? Stories create the connections we cling to. They create the fabric that makes the memories come alive and that make the words real.

My math story probably started when I was in 4th grade. I remember that the teacher had a multiplication “tracker” on the wall. It listed every student’s name and the facts that they had mastered. Usually the mastery got a gold star. So we watched each other’s progress. It was significant, but it wasn’t. We quietly competed to be at the top of the pack. Not necessarily the one ahead of everyone else but at least among the top. Except…. there were a few in the class, who weren’t. They
got stuck around their 3’s and 4’s. I wondered why. The year ended. I never found out.

In 6th grade my teacher didn’t know what to do with a group of five or six of us. We had finished all the math in the book, in the grade. It was February. So, she sat us at the back table and gave us 7th grade books she had dug out of who knows where. She told us to do the work. So we did. On our own. I’m not sure how much extra I learned, but pretty much figured that I could figure it out OK. Except for the first chapter on sets. Set theory was unlike the other stuff. It was “new math”. Sets were the only thing that was new.

From 7th grade through 10th my math story followed a pattern. First quarter was getting into the routine. I’d get a B. Second quarter I figured I could do better and work my butt off. I’d get an A. Third quarter, I was tired of working so hard. I usually got a C. 4th quarter, I knew I was better than the C, I got a B. This happened over and over and over. Probably not a coincidence. The teachers were pretty much the ones who stood out for me. Eighth through tenth grade I was in advanced math classes. I worked! The math teachers were unique. It was never my favorite class but it wasn’t the worst either. Then in 11th grade, I decided I was tired of “working hard”. So I switched out of advanced for regular. I learned nothing. It was part of the story because I thought easy would be fun. Yet my grade pattern continued and it still wasn’t fun.

That led to 12th grade where the year started with trigonometry. It was my worst math experience ever. I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand it. And I didn’t like the teacher. She didn’t like me. OK. So, maybe math wasn’t my thing.

Having made it through Analytic Geometry in High School and getting college credit for it, I decided that I was smarter than my placement exam and I’d jump into Calculus my freshman year. Now, today the idea of not having calculus in high school means that you are behind. When I was in high school, that wasn’t an option. So, 8 a.m. my freshman year, I walked into a Calc 1 class of about 35 others and we came face to face with the chair of the math department. He explained that he was tired of grade inflation and that we would have to earn the grade we received. I was naive. I had no idea what he was implying. But for 4 days each week I’d show up to my 8 a.m. math class and usually have no clue what was going on. When he confronted another student about the amount of time he’d spend on our homework problems, and with the end result that maybe 2 hours wasn’t enough. And I had 3 or 4 other classes and was working… I knew that I was in over my head. The class ended with a less than glowing F on my grades. A retake in the next quarter ended with a B. I could do it, just maybe not on the first try. Spring quarter, Calc. 2, freshman year….again was an F. When I considered that and my computer classes that had me taking boxes of key punch cards to the computer lab at 11 at night….just to be told I had a logic error. I was done. My math story ended. Or so I thought.

A year and a half later, on the brink of having no clue how I was going to graduate, I walked into a class that was math for elementary majors. The reason why our algorithms worked fascinated me. Using egg cartons as fractions…brilliant! Hmmm. Why didn’t my classmates think so?

If I could put an intermission here, I would. Because the story picks up when I used similar egg cartons with my 2nd graders. I was far more excited than they were, but they weren’t disinterested and they were learning. Both things a plus! And every time I would create a lesson for them and then go through the teaching thought process, I would learn. Still more curious.

The hallmarks of the rest of the story go like this:

I decided to get a master’s in secondary math ed because…. that ‘s where the jobs were. In the process, I had a professor who was a math historian and had been a graduate assistant with Einstein. He asked why we DID math! His acceptable answer was that it was for its beauty. I’d been teaching for a few years and still didn’t see beauty. But, OK.

That degree led me to a job as an instructor at the university and I was hooked. The work I was doing fascinated me. I was told I’d need a PhD to keep doing the work. My response, Sure! Sign me up. What do I need to do???

Funny thing is that what I needed to do was to incorporate the equivalent of a master’s in mathematics, with all the rest of the courses for the degree. Thirty year old me who could see herself doing the job nodded like it was no big deal. It’s funny how a goal and a bit of maturity make the content a little easier. I was still not a star. In fact, there are times I down right struggled. But I got to the finish line (and through all the math).

So what? Well, sometimes things just don’t add up. And sometimes you just need to look for patterns. I feel I’m getting a bit too long winded, so I’ll continue tomorrow with why this matters….

Be Real not Perfect

BarbPosted on July 21, 2019 Posted in Uncategorized — 1 Comment ↓

This was not the way that I was going to start writing, but its appropriate and the sudden memory made me laugh. Several months ago at my high school reunion, a vaguely familiar face reminisced that she’d told her husband about the time in junior high school I was (playfully) running across the field to the gym and turned and ran face first into a pole. Wham! Ouch!

I mean really? That’s the thing she remembered? I added the playfully. I hope she didn’t think that I did that out of habit. But I remember the event well. My face hurt, as did my pride.

….

About a week ago, I read an Instagram post where the writer recalled an event from elementary school. Her teacher had made her stand at the board for far too long and made a very big deal about her not knowing how to work a math problem. I felt her pain. I have witnessed that pain over the years many times. It made her embarrassed. It makes students embarrassed. It usually makes a student not want to try.

….

Almost a week ago, at the end of a lesson on fractions with my future teachers, one student raised her hand and said, “they don’t teach like this in schools.” It’s been 27 years since I first saw that fraction lesson taught. At the time I thought it was amazing and innovative. I still do. Her point though…we are supposed to do it different.

….

What all of these stories has in common is that they highlight something that happens when we think something is to look one way and instead, it looks much different. There is an emotion that rises out of the disconnect. That emotion is usually some level of discomfort.

And time and time again, we are conditioned to believe that discomfort is bad. Discomfort is embarrassing. We feel discomfort when someone laughs at us. We feel it when its clear they think we should know something that we don’t. We also feel it when we don’t think an action will let us fit in.

I’m left to wonder, “Is that what school is about?” Is it here to teach us the rules of the game (of life)? But what if the rules change? If school is done the same way it always has been, is it still able to teach those rules? OK, I’m not going to go on too much of a tangent but I am witnessing an increase in the discomfort from students as a result of uncertainty. Or as a result of their search for certainty. And its not an uncertainty of knowing, but of doing. They wonder if their actions are ones that will be judged OK?

The news has been filled with articles of student stress and depression. The prescriptions for anxiety are abundant. The problem is, that the anxiety isn’t going away.

Instead of increasing the pressure for performance, why don’t we increase the opportunities for failure? Why don’t we help students learn how to handle teaching a lesson correctly, but in a different way. How about helping the student struggle with the problem instead of allowing them to stand in fear and embarrassment. And how about letting them know that accidents happen and poles won’t always be waiting to jump in front of you and the pain can go away quickly.

There are a lot of ways to not be perfect. I think its time we stop judging and pretending we should all be.

Make a Wish

BarbPosted on April 27, 2019 Posted in Getting Started — No Comments ↓

It’s my birthday, or it was a few days ago.

Do you still make wishes when you blow out the candle? I found myself savoring the flame and meanwhile my panicked mind was thinking, “I’ve got to get this wish just right.” And then it went into static mode. You know, white noise.

At the tender age of “knocking on 60’s door”, on most days I accept that there is no perfect. Can I say that again? THERE IS NO PERFECT! There is only right now. While meditating on the question, “What is the best thing in my life right now?” I came up with a lot of thoughts about the past and future but in the end accepted that the best thing in my life right now was the moment I was in. I have to admit that it was pretty good being on my back patio, with my animals, all of us enjoying the fresh air … and no disruption. But that moment is no longer this one. So, I ask the question again, “What is the best thing in my life right now?” My now answer is that I’m writing this.

I’ve been having a hard time getting started, or restarted (writing). There is a lot I want to say about a lot of different things. It’s like a 2 year old creating a picture. Kind of all over the place. I wondered if I’ve been waiting on the perfect words, the perfect plan. May be. But I’ve also been holding onto my ideas as though they are precious pearls that I will lose if I let them out of my head. When they are out of my head, they will no longer be mine. Hmmm.

Part of what’s been holding me up the last couple of years is that I’ve been on the job market. The hiring seasons have brought me various levels of success. I’ve had lots of interviews and even some offers. In the end, I’m still here. I work in a world where I am judged for my words…and my ideas….and who I am friends with… and what I wear … and how fast I answer their emails. But the point is that I am judged. (I’m not sure where that isn’t the case, but still.) And when I’ve been confronted by haters both internally as well as search firms who wag their fingers and send strong warnings to scrub all social media, I’ve backed away. My current college is going through a search for a new dean. One of the finalist’s has a website, CloakingInequity.com. He’s shaking up the landscape.

I think I’ll stop being shy.

The last two nights I watched Brene Brown’s Netflix special. (sorry, I don’t know how to get the accent on the last e) She is who I aspire to be…if she wasn’t younger than me. She is an academic. But she is also a writer and a speaker. And she talks about tough things. She is freaking amazing. She says that vulnerability is showing up when we aren’t certain of the outcome.

I think I’ll stop worrying so much.

For now, I have a vague idea of where I want this road to lead. It’s not locked in stone and I’m certainly not sure of the exact steps. But for today, its enough to just show up and be seen.

Where do you want to go? Pretend its your birthday and make a wish!

Tagged with: Fear, Not shy, Risk, showing up

How assessments are like weeds and why can’t seem to stop fertilizing them?

BarbPosted on September 14, 2018 Posted in Uncategorized — No Comments ↓

How is academic assessment like weeds?

Academic assessment. It’s infiltrated the news and caused quite a stir over the last 15 years. When my youngest daughter was in first grade, I remember her coming home filled with anxiety. “Mom. We have the test tomorrow. I have to do good! My teacher said I have to get to bed early!” “Oh please, honey!” I rolled my eyes. “You’ll go to bed when it’s time and don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.” “No, but really!” “You’ll be fine and it doesn’t count anyway.” By that point, I had worked in education for almost 20 years. First as a teacher and then a teacher educator. The fact that my 6 year old daughter was put into a tailspin over a test was very concerning to me. So I asked the teacher whose response was, “you’re right, it doesn’t count (for first grade) but we want them to take it seriously.”

It wasn’t for another 5 years or more before I jumped onto the assessment train. When I heard the argument that educators and education had been disrespected for years because we didn’t measure it, I thought, “ok. Maybe they have a point.” If the tests show that students are learning then maybe we’ll get some respect, and some money. Yes. I hear you laughing.

I campaigned for my department faculty to create assessments that measured what they did and aligned to the standards. I rationalized before for them that I knew they didn’t want to focus on assessment but since we have to, we might as well make (the assessments) as good as possible. Some responded by suggesting we all read Reign of Error. They hated creating and endlessly using cookie cutter rubrics for all the assignments that measured all the standards that had to be tracked. (There were an average of 3 per class or 100 across our programs.) I didn’t blame them. But, it was required. And maybe if we did really well, we’d get extra funding. – I’m sure you are still laughing.

Before that daughter went to school, I attended the Software Industry Innovation Awards. While there, I heard a speaker who warned us about standards. I wish I remember who that was, but his words have stuck with me. The warning: when we have standards, we focus on standards; we teach to the standards, and once we reach the standard we move on. Where in the standard is there room for excellence? His argument made sense. I didn’t want to believe it, but I was and am concerned.

I was in my yard the other day and this analogy hit me. The lawn was green but when I looked closer at a wide array of spots, I saw ground-covering weeds. I pulled a weed and found that it was creeping through the blades of grass. It was sprouting countless tiny roots that held on and helped it spread. And as I pulled it away from the grass, I found that it was killing what was underneath. The weed was like our assessments. They are spreading so far across schooling and holding on with such ferocity that they are choking out the curriculum that lies underneath.

Why do we keep fertilizing these weeds? A local curriculum leader told me that their pilot of pushing the curriculum earlier in the year so that more time could be devoted to test preparation had been successful. As a result, he was asked to spread the project to more schools and hopefully further improve achievement. Then, while attending a meeting at our state’s Department of Education I saw the motto hung boldly, and repeatedly, on the walls, “Highest Achievement, Every Child, Every Day”. It made sense. The results are looking good, so we need to keep doing it. The problem is that we keep fertilizing the weeds.

Fifteen years later, the students who have had to focus on testing since first grade are now seniors in college. They have passed the tests, but are they really achieving and are they ready for the world that lies before them? As I look around I see some bright students. But I also see a majority who want to know exactly what’s expected of them so they may regurgitate it and perform as expected. They want to look pretty, but are also not challenged to lay down strong roots. And it’s not their fault. They have been encultured to believe that the assessment is what really, no, all that really counts.

I recognize that not all assessment is bad and that it can be useful when used to further learning. I also believe there is no one solution. In fact, there are many possible paths forward. I believe we all need to look deep and stop fertilizing the weeds that are killing what we know for the sake of making achievement look pretty. And I wish that I had never bought into the argument that education isn’t valued because we don’t measure it because we have measured the hell out of it and I still don’t see additional funding or respect.

But of course, this is just my opinion.

Disruption

BarbPosted on August 9, 2018 Posted in Uncategorized — No Comments ↓

What do you do when you have a gazillion ideas and you can’t pick the ONE? You know, the one right one…

And you are already supposedly successful in your “chosen field” because you’ve been doing it for about a thousand years. (I guess successful might depend on who you ask) But every cell in your being is screaming…. “NO!…this isn’t it. You haven’t yet hit your magic!” And inside, you know it’s true.

Instead of a hypothetical, let me just use me as an example.

So, the main people who regularly check out my posts are my kids, oh and their friends. I should be grateful for friends but the fear voice in me is thinking they are all whispering while my daughter is saying, “Oh My God Mom, really?!”

When Gary Vee says “chronicle the journey of becoming” I stop and wonder, OK. But what exactly is it I’m chronicling and where is it going because I don’t exactly have a theme or a story line. I’m stuck in some middle-aged meandering between this no longer fits and shouldn’t my Ah-Ha have a better road map?

The answer to that is finally, “Hell No!” I realize that I am having the time of my life, finding my life or rather creating my life because I am more in touch with me, more often, then I have ever been.

I realize that what’s been missing in my life and my career, is me. What’s been missing is my voice and my unique way of showing up. I’ve tried to fit into the definitions or boxes that were my roles, but I forgot to bring myself along for the ride. No wonder I never really felt aligned.

When I was a child, I dreamed of a life of do-good disruption. I imagined not following the rules but for the best reasons. Except, that I ended up following the rules like they were the reason.

I have not disrupted, but melted into a pool of compliant, complacent nothingness while the disruption occurred inside me.

Who wants to see my journey? Maybe no one. But if any part of my story can disrupt your complacency sooner, then I will have championed my cause.

You are brilliant. You are the sun that rises and the rays at sunset. You are the spark that causes the world to evolve and spin faster when you get excited. You are the gift that is undeniable and it is time you disrupt anything that keeps you from being all that…..and a bag of (kettle cooked salt and vinegar) chips.

Let’s go! It’s about time we caused some sparks!

Demons

BarbPosted on April 3, 2018 Posted in Uncategorized — No Comments ↓

My wish for you is that your demons don’t run deep.

I’m in the process for looking for a new place to live. Timing is far from the best. It is the end of the semester. I have grading I need to commit myself to spend days on. There are letters of evaluation to write and reports to share. There is moving, before my current apartment charges me a small fortune. And then there are trips, more trips to take. Pack? Oh yes. And there is that. Oh, and my birthday…well, it used to be a thing.

If I had to pick a worse time, I’m not sure when that would be except for the week between Christmas and New Years.

To add to the mix, I’m in the middle of some job searches. For those who aren’t familiar with academic searches, the transition is typically once per year. June 30th. If they work out, I will move again. So maybe I can consider this a practice move. A trial run.

So why am I talking about demons? Two reasons really. To start, in the midst of it all I got a great brainstorm and I’m starting a side hustle that will take more time. Couldn’t put it off. Strike while the iron is hot! Patience? Never! The demon of busy is good and virtuous and makes one worthy rears her ugly head.

As though one isn’t enough, I found a good house at a good price (to rent). First, last and security (ugh) but check! Income high enough? Check! Then comes the tough part….apply to the HOA. Demons, bring out your flames! I haven’t even applied yet but I’m worried that I won’t be accepted. On a preliminary questionnaire I had to answer…job…yes, excellent, over 22 years, management. Arrests? Nope… Evictions? Nada. And yet, here I am, concerned that I will be viewed as unacceptable for the community. Go figure.

Demons tend to hide. We think they have been successfully slayed and banished from our lives only to find them re-emerging when least expected, and without real reason. But fortunately there’s hope. Having recognized them before they become easier and easier to spot. And knowing them is half the battle. Once spotted, they can be challenged and chained. They can live with our other fears that we know exist but we refuse to give power over our actions or our minds.

The more shallow your demons, the quicker you can handle them because you are mindful of their presence. But if they run deep, they rise up and take you by surprise, of course after they’ve spent some time haunting you.

So may your demons not lay deep and may you take your place in creating your best life without them!

Why I Bother!

BarbPosted on March 14, 2018 Posted in Uncategorized — No Comments ↓

I have considered all sorts of rationalizations about writing this post. I have had a lot of other things on my mind: career options, money, bills, daylight savings time (why I’m so tired), weight, weight-loss (or lack thereof), a magic pill?, moving, finding a place that takes pets, … you get the idea. The list goes on and on.

So as a result of my flooded mind I haven’t felt particularly inspired with a topic that says, “you should write about me!” Can you hear it calling? Kind of silent, isn’t it. And the funny thing is that I really enjoy writing. But what I wondered was… “Why Bother?” Because if I don’t (write), would anyone notice, or care?

So, why bother? Well for starters, pulling the I’m Tired or the Uninspired card is where it starts. Historically, I make a commitment and maintain the commitment until it looses the flash of shiny newness and I let it drop. Not fade away like a brilliant sunset, but drop it like a hot potato. It’s would be steaminess left behind on the floor, utterly cold.

It’s not because I don’t want to write, but rather it’s from laziness. Wouldn’t it be easier if I just didn’t? Well the DUH! I could choose not to engage. Not to write. Not to take the time. I could lay back on my sofa and eat bon-bons. BTW, what’s a bon-bon?

But then, the fact that I took the easy way out, the fact that I would make excuses and tell myself that I really had valid reasons not to and that I deserved to relax, all those reasons would give power to my inner mean girl on truth serum who would scream… “LIAR! You have had time and just chosen not to. Are you going to do this every time?”

Sigh

So why bother? Because I made myself a promise to keep writing and posting and even if no one ever keeps a promise to me, I should keep mine to myself as long as it’s still a promise that burns.

Why bother? Because even though I don’t know where the road might lead, I’ll never find out if I don’t actually keep traveling it.

Why bother? Because if I believe that goals are worth pursuing, a belief without action is only a dream.

Why bother? Because…and that’s good enough.

This is really about far more than just about writing and posting a simple blog post. It is about doing the work and actually following dreams. It’s about not taking the easy way out. It is about facing fear or other rationalizations that so often get in the way. It is so very much more.

I’d love to know what you bother to do, especially when it’s something you don’t have to.

I heard Marianne Williamson say that “You are a writer when you are SO full of a story and you have no choice but to give birth to it.” And even if you’re not yet at the birthing stage, what is the thing that even if you try to ignore it, it’s always there with you?

What are you birthing? Why do you bother?

Tagged with: don’t give up, follow through, mindset, motivation, perseverance, promises, showing up, writing

Not Bad doesn’t mean Good

BarbPosted on March 7, 2018 Posted in Uncategorized — No Comments ↓

Over the last two days I have heard two different people talk about the value of clarity in defining goals. It suddenly struck me, as though I’d had my head in the sand, that I have been about the least clear person I know. Well, that might not be true but it has certainly incapacitated me.

Why do I need to be clear?

Well for starters, if I want to go to a hotel, a specific hotel, in a specific city, I had better know the address. To head north and hope I get there seems pretty ridiculous. But in a sense, to move forward in life without clarity is pretty much the same thing. You head in a direction and hope you recognize it when you see it. The problem is that strategy keeps you always looking.

So that’s the road on which I’ve found myself. I always said, “I want to do good work.” Hmmm. Pretty broad. Counter-intuitively, I saw it as a great strategy, keep the options wide open and don’t define what it looks like. Feel your way.

I definitely believe in intuition and the ability to recognize what feels right. But what about as a direction. How does just feeling move me forward. Well, it doesn’t; not by itself.

What’s the appeal of the open-ended goal?

If I find a better option or a prettier flower, I can easily change course. Squirrel?

The problem with this is that constant course changes usually result in time spent recalculating next steps. Recalculating takes time away from progress.

There are other reasons not to commit to clarity. It’s the fear that I’m not worthy of what I’m dreaming about. That I will be laughed at. That my current situation isn’t that bad. Well honey, not that bad doesn’t mean it’s good. And even if the situation is OK and you are miserable, then it’s not.

So where do I want to go? I need to get real, real specific. I want a good job isn’t nearly specific enough. Neither is, I want a job I like. I want to start a business to provide adults the tools that would empower them to live lives they are passionate about. I want to help adults, specifically parents and teachers, give children tools to be passionate about things in their lives. I want the ability to collaborate, write, and travel. I want to earn a salary that would double my current one.

Now, that’s more specific. Better. But could still use some work.

Clarity gives me the opportunity to take two next steps. The first is to identify what would be the issues that I might have to overcome to reach my goal. I might be laughed at. I might have people ask who I think I am. So, I have to face fear. Fear of possible rejection. Fear of not producing work that’s valued. If I recognize what the downside can be, then I can address it. “Well if that’s all it is, then that’s overcomeable”.

The second advantage to clarity is that it helps me take the next step and make it a specific one. I may not know what the final product looks like, but if I know a theme, then I can start to pull together tools that make sense. If my outcome is the North Pole I don’t want to collect bathing suits. So if my outcome is to empower others, I want to create or collect tools that will do that. But it also gives me an opportunity to ask more questions, like: “How do I want to empower?” “How will the person know they are empowered?” It lets me further define and refine. So I’m not just taking a shot in the dark.

Life isn’t that bad can be a great rationalization. But it is still a rationalization and it can keep us from imagining and working toward the clarity of what a good life, like one I imagine, would look like.

So, what life do I really want? I’ll know it when I define it and then I take steps towards it. That’s clarity.

The Blessing in Broken

BarbPosted on February 28, 2018 Posted in Uncategorized — 2 Comments ↓

Broken. It doesn’t seem that it would be a good thing. But when you turn around the way you look at it…

When something is broken, you face the decision. Can I or should I repair it? Or has its time come?

The other day I found this on my stove.

I was surprised. I was a little sad.

I don’t know how it happened, yet it had. Two pieces. A clean break. Or was it?

I wondered if I should try to piece it back the way it was? But…

Like most things, this plate had a story. Yet, I’m not really sure where that story began. I know that I had it for as long as I remembered being an adult. I know that it had originally hung on a wall. Not my wall. But it had a metal gadget that was attached that looked like it had. It also used to be something other than just black but it had lost the design that decorated its surface long ago. I knew that over more moves than I could count, but I’m guessing maybe 12, it had been carefully wrapped in paper and boxed and unboxed and unwrapped and it was still with me. Maybe thirty years later. It had lasted…it was worn, but it had hung in there with me, and I with it. That was its story.

So given its story, I had to consider what to do. And after careful consideration….I tossed it in the trash without remorse. OK, maybe just a bit of guilt now as I write about it.

I was able to consider that it had no value to me now other than the fact that it had been with me. There was no reason that I needed or in fact wanted to keep it. It was not an important part of my direction. So I very unceremoniously said goodbye.

Well actually, I tossed it before I could give it a second thought and hang onto its pieces.

As a person, I have been broken. I have felt myself shattered to pieces and yet I fought and argued to put myself back together in the way that I had been. Or at least the way that I remembered that I had been. Or the way that I thought I should be. The pieces didn’t fit like they should, not smoothly, but then, maybe they never had.

As I look around my life, I have hung onto so many broken bits; so many incomplete and messy stories. I have my children’s schoolwork in incomplete disarray; because that’s what a good mother does. I have pieces of fabric and dried up paint because…well, just in case art projects come up that might require such things. I have spices. Oh Lord do I have spices that have been with me since the dawn of time and may be, just may be been used in a recipe a time or two. But there they sit. Broken from lack of use. (It’s probably more like stuck together or dried up. But roll with me on this.)

What is the sense in keeping pieces that no longer work? And maybe, just maybe they came apart because they were meant to.

There is a blessing in broken. It means that you get the opportunity to throw out the old and put things back together in a way that you couldn’t have imagined before. Or it means you get a fresh slate; without a shape in mind, you can be anything that works. You can rebuilt from the ground up.

I’ve been broken. But as I think about it, maybe I was trying to force pieces to fit into ways they never should have. I’m working on putting the pieces together around the dreams that haven’t left me since I was young. So, what I thought I was supposed to look like and tried to make fit no longer matters. Because that was broken. And being broken does allow a brand new blessing.

Tagged with: self worth

Anyone Home?

BarbPosted on February 21, 2018 Posted in Uncategorized — No Comments ↓

Hello?

Hi! How are you?

(Siiigggghhhhh)! Well let me tell you about what’s going on (going wrong) now.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

OK, well I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.

Uhm (click) Ok, bye?

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we show up, or don’t show up, for one another. Specifically about the point of whether we actually listen to one another.

For years I have seen the words, “people don’t listen to hear, they listen to reply”. Well, that’s probably true. But I think that there is a lot of conversation time devoted to attention hungry people feeling the need to be heard. For example, take the conversation above. The person being called uses the opportunity to share the ups and downs of their day. Ok, mostly the downs. Then, before the person who called can really explain the reason for their call or has an opportunity to interact, the call ends. Finished. Done with a click. I have been on that side of the conversation more than a few times. It is frustrating! Particularly when I have a point that I want to make. After awhile, the caller no longer even tries to interject. Unless they have to. One sided conversations go nowhere.

So I wondered whether I do the same from the other side. Have I been the one who doesn’t let the other person get a word in and doesn’t listen? To be honest, I don’t know. But I’m sure I have a time or two.

I’m mostly guilty of the conversations that I never allow to get started or where I’m there but not really. It’s when someone pokes their head into my office when I’m in the middle of a project and when they ask, “Do you have a minute?” I respond, “Well, I’m in the middle of something.” “OK. Well, I’ll be quick.” And the more animated they are about what they are telling me, the more my face morphs into a death stare. What?! You really pulled me away for this? And I begin to think about the fact that I’m irritated instead of really listening. Not very effective on the communication front.

Two weeks ago, I wrote a post about an experience from high school. In response to the post, many friends, both high school and since, showed up on facebook to let me know how terrible they thought the event was and how awesome they thought that I was. Well, maybe not awesome. But they wanted me to know that I was OK.

While I appreciated all who showed up and spoke up but I wondered if they had read what I wrote. That yes, I used the event for context but that the moral of my story was that it no longer haunted me and I am OK. So this made me wonder if we are also so uncomfortable with others’ truth, that we don’t really want to hear them and instead, we just want to make them feel better. I didn’t really hear you but I know you’re in pain, so let me just see if I can stop that. That way I won’t have to hear you any more. (again, I did appreciate everyone’s sentiments)

Another way that we don’t listen is in our awkward attempt to build connection. I think that this is mostly unconscious and actually meant to reach out but….it doesn’t work. Here’s the pattern. I had a really bad start to my day. I was on my way out of my neighborhood and my tire went flat. I was so frus…… Well, I know just how you feel. I had that happen to me once. Let me tell you! xxxxx

I can most certainly tell you that I have been guilty of that type of conversation ender. In a terrible attempt to show empathy and let the other person know I understood, I failed at listening to how they felt. Bad communication skills! I’m working on it.

When someone talks to you, are you home for them? Are we so busy or annoyed or awkward that we no longer know how to show up for one another? I think showing up means that we not only talk, but we listen. And you know that someone is truly part of your tribe when the listening, and the talking, go both ways.

In Jerry Maguire, Dorothy says to Jerry… “You had me at hello!” Well, I think you really have to do a little more than hello. You have to say, “Hello. How are you?” And then actually listen!

….sit down for a cup of coffee and tell me about your day!

Tagged with: communication, listening, showing up