February 15, 2006
Twenty-Somethings Kill Stick-In-The-Mud
Woman
One of the greatest things about being a teacher is
learning from my students. I teach at a local university, and while my
20-somethings perfect their writing and public speaking skills by taking
my class, I perfect my life by going through the semester-long
experience with them.
Over the years, they have taught me – a classic
overachiever and over-committer and over-doer – what has probably been
the most important lesson of my life. How to take things a little less
seriously.
One classroom full of bright-eyed (my class was taught at
2:30 in the afternoon, so yeah, they were bright-eyed for the most part)
young adults taught me that sometimes, you simply have to take “winging
it” to a whole new level. As a matter of fact, I have decided that the
term “winging it” is extremely outdated. I assume the phrase stems from
jumping off a branch before you’re really prepared to fly. Well, I’m
looking out my window right now and the highest branch is only about 100
feet up. What my students sometimes did would better be described as
“skydiving” without a parachute from 10,000 feet.
So, when did they skydive? In this particular class,
almost all of the time. Because the class wasn’t required for any
major, not even basket-weaving – and was one of those university
requirements that kids end up in to do only that – fill a university
requirement that they don’t currently see the value of.
So just because they blew off presentations and turned in
unedited work, I think they were pretty good kids. My guess is that 90
percent of them never skydived in other classes like astrophysics,
American history or child psychology. They knew something I didn’t –
when to skydive versus when to stick to the plan.
Taking their lead, I did a little skydiving of my own
this past weekend. That’s right. I left for a dinner party fifteen
minutes early armed with various shaped plates and bowls. I headed for
the nearest grocery store and I bought what happened to look good to me
at that very second. In my car, I emptied the box, scooped it, spread
something on top and dumped it into the best-shaped bowl. I arrived
with a huge smile on my face because I had just skydived out of Martha
Stewart Living and into Twinkies covered with whipped cream and
Hershey’s syrup. All I can say is skydiving tastes as good as it
sounds.
Another array of youngsters taught me that the “one
chance to make a good impression” statement is overrated. In one
particular class, I ask students to give a 10-minute verbal presentation
on a case study before the written one is due. One student gave a
fascinating preview of his paper on an initiative to teach people the
merits of shopping in locally owned stores, thereby keeping more dollars
in their neighborhoods and communities.
The presentation was motivating, captivating even. But
when he turned the paper in, it was devastatingly awful. It was one of
those papers that a teacher gets every so often that makes her scream,
“Did you listen to one – even one – word that I said all semester?” and
then throws her into a tailspin of questioning her own ability to shape
young minds.
Once I got over the shock, I realized this was what they
call a “teachable moment” for me, the teacher. And what I learned is
that making a great first impression is something I could stop fixating
on when meeting new clients, colleagues, husband’s coworkers, potential
friends, etc. Rather, what’s most important is consistency. Be the
same person, turning in the same good quality of work or the same level
of friendship from start to finish, from day to day and year to year,
and then you will have accomplished something truly great and for that
matter, unexpected by most.
Finally, I learned that flip-flops are simply
unforgettable. Not flip flops of the supposed John Kerry kind, but the
entire foot-showing summer shoes that most of us business professionals
over a certain age who’ve attained a certain level of success would not
be caught dead in if it weren’t a Saturday or a vacation day.
I have a student who showed up in flip-flops for a
presentation to a class client, despite it being part of her grade to
dress professionally. Her presentation was excellent. She was poised
and intelligent. When I ran into that class client a few weeks later,
he said, “That one gal was great, and I remember her because of that and
because she wore flip-flops.”
So, I’m starting a new job. And while I’m not exactly
planning to wear a clown wig at my first department meeting, I’m pretty
sure that I am going to ditch my boring navy blue suit, boring
blue-collared oxford and boring blue heels for something with a little
more flair. I have decided that it’s more important to be remembered
than to be flawless.
I’ve learned other lessons, among them, to be thankful
for all of the funky, fearless and diverse people who cross my life’s
path. After I first drafted this column and went to say my bedtime
prayers, I thanked God especially for these 20-somethings. For
flip-flop girl. For just-rolled-outta-bed-two-minutes-before-my-presentation-guys.
Even for I-guess-I-just-never-wasn’t-paying-attention boy. They have all
helped me stop being stick-in-the-mud woman. I owe them all a
parachute.
© 2006 North Star Writers
Group. May not be republished without permission.
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