We frequently hear something similar to this phrase--"Don't let them tell you what to do." It also travels as "Stand your ground" or "Don't let them push you around." The "them" presumably are people in authority, and the implied intimidation is the result of one attempting to Do What Is Right or to Stand Up For Truth, to the evident dismay of authority figures.
I heard this phrase spoken to me several times over the last six years, in my position as a school psychologist, when I gave voice to my frustration over conflicting directions or draconian pronouncements from my supervisors. "Hang tough," I was told. "You're doing the right thing."
I'm not saying this is not good advice, just that it is overapplied. While we applaud and support children who take a stand with their peers for rising above the lowest common denominator, we also counsel them (at least I do) with that timeless advice from Kenny Rogers--"You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away and know when to run." In other words, going to the mat for everything isn't the wisest way to go through life.
When does knowing when to fold 'em and to walk away become a bad thing? Is it a reaction to a feeling of powerlessness, that this is the one thing I can do to assert myself? I can refuse to leave a situation in which I am being physically, verbally or emotionally pummeled because, well, I can. It's my decision. You can't make me leave. True 'nuf, but sometimes wisdom trumps ability, or at least it should. Just because I have an option, doesn't mean I should take it.
An analogy comes to mind, and I do love this one, although I have to take minor liberties with historical facts. Let's say I'm on the Titanic, and it's at the point where clearly something is very wrong. Some lifeboats have been put off and are hovering nearby, although at a safe distance. I am being urged, with increasingly directive language, to get into a lifeboat. And I am refusing.
What might prompt such a seemingly foolish stand? First, I don't have the benefit of hindsight, so I don't know for certain what is going to happen. Second, I am committed to the idea of holding my destiny in my own hands, and if I want to get into a boat, it will when and if I want to, not because somebody ordered me. And I don't really want to go, because getting into a lifeboat requires acknowledging that something is terribly wrong and my initial course of action might have to change. Maybe booking passage on the Titanic was a mistake, and I don't want to acknowledge that I made a mistake. So I stand there on the deck, thinking, "Maybe somebody will do something to stabilize the ship. Maybe it will stop sinking. I sacrificed for a long time to buy my ticket, and all my stuff is still on board. I don't want to just turn my back on my investment. It looks cold out there in the boats. My feet are still dry. I think I'll stay here awhile longer."
The minutes and hours pass. Now (here's where a little historical license is needed), I can see a ship, perhaps the Carpathia, on the horizon. Some of the lifeboats are heading that way. The people in the lifeboats may be cold, and they are abandoning their possessions (their "investments"), but they have acknowledged that the situation has changed, and they are implementing Plan B. I'm sticking with Plan A, which is a sincere and profound hope that someone will do something and the Titanic will stabilize, but I'm having a harder and harder time rationalizing it to myself. The lifeboats have all left now, but many are still nearby and not full, so if I put on a lifejacket or grab a deck chair and jump or lower myself into the water (which is getting closer all the time), I could still swim to a lifeboat, be pulled onboard and eventually get to the Carpathia. I can still save myself...but it's gonna be my decision. No one can force me to get into that cold, cold water and swim to a lifeboat.
You can see how this plays out. At what point does saving myself become more important than resisting being told what to do? At what point do I realize that the situation in which I have allowed myself to stay has become untenable? Is it when my feet are getting wet and I can step off, rather than jump off the deck? Is it when the vacuum is pulling me under?
Shortly before I decided to step off my own personal Titanic, hop into the water and swim for the lifeboat, a dear friend and (now former) coworker expressed consternation at my decision. "You can't just turn your back on your degree!" she exclaimed. "After all the time you put into getting it!" Another dear friend wrote to me, "Don't let them drive you out!" I heard them both, but I also could feel my feet getting wet, and I decided to swim for it. Now I'm in a lifeboat, damp but ok, on my way to better things, and they still are on the Titanic. That makes me sad.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
The Company We Keep
Fiction can become truth, can't it? Nearly any statement, however absurd, can acquire an aura of gravitas if it is repeated often enough. I have seen this first hand, and lived to tell about it, but it was touch and go for awhile.
Remember your Psychology 101? You don't? Why not? It had some good stuff. Some of the good stuff was Martin Seligman's experiment on creating learned helplessness in dogs, whereby after they repeatedly had been unable to escape a shock, they "gave up" and did not attempt to escape further shocks, even when there was no impediment to them leaving. The dogs were not able to recognize when the situation changed, and "I'm helpless" became their truth. On a slight tangent, the opposite also is true, at least for frogs. I'm told that a frog can be boiled to death in an open pan of water if the heat is turned up in small enough increments. The frog "adjusts" to the change in the water temperature, until it is too late. In this case, the frog does not recognize that the situation has changed, and "I'm ok" becomes its truth.
What about people? I'm not talking about shocking or boiling them, but everyone hears from grade school on to be nice to others and to not be mean, because "It will damage their self esteem." I personally loathe that phrase and will never use it, partially because the people who DO use it never can define what they mean by "self esteem" and partially because it is possible to damage a person's self concept in the other direction, so that s/he has an artificially inflated sense of competence. I digress. The good and kind thing to do is to encourage people to be the best they can be, so that encouragement becomes truth, and people believe that they can at least attempt difficult things. None of us can become "anything", as we are told in the early grades, but all of us are capable of more than we think we are.
Why is the company we keep important? We were raised to think it was a matter of reputation, and it is that, but it's more. The company we keep is important, because their truth becomes our truth. If a constant message is "You are powerless to improve your situation", that becomes true. If a constant message is "No matter how hard you work, your efforts will be either misguided or insufficient", that becomes true. The truly unfortunate outcome is when people begin to generalize these statements and apply them to ALL aspects of their lives. "You are powerless to improve your situation" in a particular work setting mutates into "I am powerless to break free from this situation, because I am powerless across the board." The statement "No matter how hard you work, your efforts will be either misguided or insufficient" becomes "The amount of effort I put into my work has no bearing on any possible rewards, so I might as well dial back my effort in all situations." These overgeneralizations are spirit breakers that feed a downward spiral of complaining, which leads to feelings of dispiritedness, which lead to more complaining. Nothing positive is possible, and that's the "truth".
I subscribed to that alternate truth for years, and completely bought the fiction that I was incapable of doing anything other than what I was doing, that this was the best I could hope for, and that the situation I was in was better than nothing. All of these were untrue, but as I listen to my friends and former coworkers talk to me and to each other about their work and their futures, I hear these themes recycled over and over as truth, and there is a dreariness to the conversations that keep looping back on themselves. "I'm ok, I just have to hang in there, there is nothing else I can do" they say, either not realizing that the water is coming to a boil around them, or realizing it but no longer looking to escape. The company we keep IS important, so very important. Our truth is shaped by them.
Remember your Psychology 101? You don't? Why not? It had some good stuff. Some of the good stuff was Martin Seligman's experiment on creating learned helplessness in dogs, whereby after they repeatedly had been unable to escape a shock, they "gave up" and did not attempt to escape further shocks, even when there was no impediment to them leaving. The dogs were not able to recognize when the situation changed, and "I'm helpless" became their truth. On a slight tangent, the opposite also is true, at least for frogs. I'm told that a frog can be boiled to death in an open pan of water if the heat is turned up in small enough increments. The frog "adjusts" to the change in the water temperature, until it is too late. In this case, the frog does not recognize that the situation has changed, and "I'm ok" becomes its truth.
What about people? I'm not talking about shocking or boiling them, but everyone hears from grade school on to be nice to others and to not be mean, because "It will damage their self esteem." I personally loathe that phrase and will never use it, partially because the people who DO use it never can define what they mean by "self esteem" and partially because it is possible to damage a person's self concept in the other direction, so that s/he has an artificially inflated sense of competence. I digress. The good and kind thing to do is to encourage people to be the best they can be, so that encouragement becomes truth, and people believe that they can at least attempt difficult things. None of us can become "anything", as we are told in the early grades, but all of us are capable of more than we think we are.
Why is the company we keep important? We were raised to think it was a matter of reputation, and it is that, but it's more. The company we keep is important, because their truth becomes our truth. If a constant message is "You are powerless to improve your situation", that becomes true. If a constant message is "No matter how hard you work, your efforts will be either misguided or insufficient", that becomes true. The truly unfortunate outcome is when people begin to generalize these statements and apply them to ALL aspects of their lives. "You are powerless to improve your situation" in a particular work setting mutates into "I am powerless to break free from this situation, because I am powerless across the board." The statement "No matter how hard you work, your efforts will be either misguided or insufficient" becomes "The amount of effort I put into my work has no bearing on any possible rewards, so I might as well dial back my effort in all situations." These overgeneralizations are spirit breakers that feed a downward spiral of complaining, which leads to feelings of dispiritedness, which lead to more complaining. Nothing positive is possible, and that's the "truth".
I subscribed to that alternate truth for years, and completely bought the fiction that I was incapable of doing anything other than what I was doing, that this was the best I could hope for, and that the situation I was in was better than nothing. All of these were untrue, but as I listen to my friends and former coworkers talk to me and to each other about their work and their futures, I hear these themes recycled over and over as truth, and there is a dreariness to the conversations that keep looping back on themselves. "I'm ok, I just have to hang in there, there is nothing else I can do" they say, either not realizing that the water is coming to a boil around them, or realizing it but no longer looking to escape. The company we keep IS important, so very important. Our truth is shaped by them.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Call me...maybe
It is now six days post-resignation from my (previous) day job, and radio-silence from administration. This does not surprise or disappoint me. I am, however, fascinated by the implication and by the implications of THAT for the choices I made over the previous fifteen years.
There is a saying that "Character is how you behave when no one is looking." I agree, and believe that if one is sloppy with the little things, one will be sloppy with the big things. I organized my work around that idea and thought I was Doing The Right Thing. I thought that was important, and that it was important to the people for whom I worked. I thought my insistence on coherent recommendations was important.
It appears that the last two hours of my employment resonated more with management that the previous fifteen years, and that is the fascinating part. Working backwards, I deduce that if I had given two-weeks notice, or better yet, a year's notice, I probably could have gotten some sort of statement of appreciation, maybe lunch, maybe a handshake. Not for the work I had done, but for my exit strategy. As I continue to work backwards, it appears that behaving when no one was looking was not as integral a part of my job as I had thought.
Am I bitter? Not a bit. All the less-that-desirable parts helped point me toward my decision to leave ahead of retirement and the relief that I feel at having made that decision. I am bemused that I spent so much time and energy where, in retrospect, it didn't matter, and I'm grateful that I have the chance to redirect my time and energy.
I remember coworkers saying to me "Hang in there, and don't let Them drive you out." My question now, is....why? Why on earth would I "Hang in there?" Why would I, or anyone, stay in a situation where fifteen years of work is cancelled out in two hours?
So hey, if "standards", "best practices" and "effectiveness" really ARE important, then call me! Maybe. Wish me happiness. Show some character.
There is a saying that "Character is how you behave when no one is looking." I agree, and believe that if one is sloppy with the little things, one will be sloppy with the big things. I organized my work around that idea and thought I was Doing The Right Thing. I thought that was important, and that it was important to the people for whom I worked. I thought my insistence on coherent recommendations was important.
It appears that the last two hours of my employment resonated more with management that the previous fifteen years, and that is the fascinating part. Working backwards, I deduce that if I had given two-weeks notice, or better yet, a year's notice, I probably could have gotten some sort of statement of appreciation, maybe lunch, maybe a handshake. Not for the work I had done, but for my exit strategy. As I continue to work backwards, it appears that behaving when no one was looking was not as integral a part of my job as I had thought.
Am I bitter? Not a bit. All the less-that-desirable parts helped point me toward my decision to leave ahead of retirement and the relief that I feel at having made that decision. I am bemused that I spent so much time and energy where, in retrospect, it didn't matter, and I'm grateful that I have the chance to redirect my time and energy.
I remember coworkers saying to me "Hang in there, and don't let Them drive you out." My question now, is....why? Why on earth would I "Hang in there?" Why would I, or anyone, stay in a situation where fifteen years of work is cancelled out in two hours?
So hey, if "standards", "best practices" and "effectiveness" really ARE important, then call me! Maybe. Wish me happiness. Show some character.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Mashup
This is a combination of three thoughts: FDR's "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself"; a thought suggested to me by the story of King Solomon, who started out strong but faded in the backstretch when he was led astray by his many wives and a "hey, I recognize this knot in my stomach!" moment last Thursday, the day before I resigned my job.
Several people have told me, "I could NEVER (whatever)", most often referring to taking up skating as an adult ("I'm afraid of falling") or doing the career 180 that I have ("I'm not as good as you are"), and the common denominator seems to be some unspecified fear arising from taking up an unfamiliar endeavor. I have marveled at how frequently we already have taken up something unfamiliar before reaching adulthood, and yet we easily forget those examples. Walking is the best one, because it involved a lot of effort, and yes, falling. Unfortunately, none of us remember that. Talking, reading, writing, all of those things we take for granted were unfamiliar and difficult at one time, and very likely tears were shed along the way. Driving is another great example. There is no innate "drive" to drive, as there might be for walking, but very few, if any, of us said, " Weeeelll, I don't know. I've never driven before, and I'm afraid of getting in an accident, so I think I'll give it a pass."
What is the difference between these basic activities and something like public speaking, teaching a college class, competing in skating, performing on the piano or taking up a business? I think the big difference is we are surrounded constantly by people who successfully mastered walking, talking, reading, writing and driving, but examples of other activities might be far more infrequent. If I haven't seen many examples of people successfully mastering something unfamiliar, I might indeed be reluctant to take it up.
So maybe we can reframe "I could NEVER...." as "I haven't seen many people do that, so I'm not as certain that it's feasible for me." And now we arrive at the crux of the matter, which is that unfamiliarity breeds fear, or something that feels like it. Fear of what, exactly? Fear of "looking stupid" mostly, which is self-consciousness. I tell my adult skating students, "Well of COURSE you're going to fall! I do all the time. And if it's a really spectacular one, and you're not hurt, I'll probably laugh, because it looks funny. People laugh at me all the time. And I laugh at myself." Then we move on to how to fall so that you don't get hurt. And then, we start learning to skate. When the fear is gone, or at least under control, it's amazing what people can accomplish. King Solomon came to an ignominious end when he began "worshiping lesser gods" and people who give fear a place of honor in their lives gradually find themselves stuck in one place, with a vague sensation that there was supposed to be more to life than this.
Which finally brings me to last Thursday. I was feeling the strain of keeping my impending resignation from my long-time job quiet for just one more day, and my stomach was in a knot. I could have interpreted that as fear, and thus as a sign that I had made the wrong decision, that I should change my mind, that things were about to go terribly wrong. Instead, I had a sudden feeling of recognition: This is exactly how I feel at competition, when my name has been called and the door to the ice has been closed (why does it always sound so loud?), but before I take my mark. I know this feeling--it doesn't mean I've made a horrible mistake or that I need to run or that I look stupid; it just means that I need to focus. I can survive this feeling without doing anything drastic. It will pass. I took a deep breath and refocused. And the feeling passed.
Several people have told me, "I could NEVER (whatever)", most often referring to taking up skating as an adult ("I'm afraid of falling") or doing the career 180 that I have ("I'm not as good as you are"), and the common denominator seems to be some unspecified fear arising from taking up an unfamiliar endeavor. I have marveled at how frequently we already have taken up something unfamiliar before reaching adulthood, and yet we easily forget those examples. Walking is the best one, because it involved a lot of effort, and yes, falling. Unfortunately, none of us remember that. Talking, reading, writing, all of those things we take for granted were unfamiliar and difficult at one time, and very likely tears were shed along the way. Driving is another great example. There is no innate "drive" to drive, as there might be for walking, but very few, if any, of us said, " Weeeelll, I don't know. I've never driven before, and I'm afraid of getting in an accident, so I think I'll give it a pass."
What is the difference between these basic activities and something like public speaking, teaching a college class, competing in skating, performing on the piano or taking up a business? I think the big difference is we are surrounded constantly by people who successfully mastered walking, talking, reading, writing and driving, but examples of other activities might be far more infrequent. If I haven't seen many examples of people successfully mastering something unfamiliar, I might indeed be reluctant to take it up.
So maybe we can reframe "I could NEVER...." as "I haven't seen many people do that, so I'm not as certain that it's feasible for me." And now we arrive at the crux of the matter, which is that unfamiliarity breeds fear, or something that feels like it. Fear of what, exactly? Fear of "looking stupid" mostly, which is self-consciousness. I tell my adult skating students, "Well of COURSE you're going to fall! I do all the time. And if it's a really spectacular one, and you're not hurt, I'll probably laugh, because it looks funny. People laugh at me all the time. And I laugh at myself." Then we move on to how to fall so that you don't get hurt. And then, we start learning to skate. When the fear is gone, or at least under control, it's amazing what people can accomplish. King Solomon came to an ignominious end when he began "worshiping lesser gods" and people who give fear a place of honor in their lives gradually find themselves stuck in one place, with a vague sensation that there was supposed to be more to life than this.
Which finally brings me to last Thursday. I was feeling the strain of keeping my impending resignation from my long-time job quiet for just one more day, and my stomach was in a knot. I could have interpreted that as fear, and thus as a sign that I had made the wrong decision, that I should change my mind, that things were about to go terribly wrong. Instead, I had a sudden feeling of recognition: This is exactly how I feel at competition, when my name has been called and the door to the ice has been closed (why does it always sound so loud?), but before I take my mark. I know this feeling--it doesn't mean I've made a horrible mistake or that I need to run or that I look stupid; it just means that I need to focus. I can survive this feeling without doing anything drastic. It will pass. I took a deep breath and refocused. And the feeling passed.
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