When Saying "Yes" Means Saying "No"

I know I am not alone in having trouble saying "no" to things--especially as a woman. There are so many things I want to do, it's hard to turn things down. Sometimes I can't say no because I feel guilty, or obligated. Usually, though, I say "yes" without even thinking; if I can do it, then I should do it.

For a number of years, this worked for me...sort of. I ran through life, from one thing to the next, not really having the time to be present to any of it. For the last 20 years I have worked, raised children, volunteered at school, maintained a house, volunteered in the community, acted, sang, helped out friends and family, ran marathons and races, and on and on. It probably doesn't sound too different from your own life. It wasn't until this last fall, that suddenly (and I do mean suddenly), this crazy life caught up with me. I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't.

So what happened? It felt as if I hit a brick wall. Trying desperately to control every aspect of my teenage sons' lives, while working and doing all these other activities pushed me over an edge. I think it all began with a helicopter crash last February in which five people died--people we knew. It was followed by a couple more tragic deaths of young people in our community and then the death of a friend from high school. I think my undoing was at least nine months in the making (if not years prior to that). These untimely deaths planted seeds in my soul that started growing, pushing out old thoughts and behaviors and demanding new ones.

If life is so uncertain (and it's easy to pretend for stretches of time that it's not), then I need to make conscious choices about how I want to live it. Living in constant fear and worry, trying to control everything, stressing out over what needs to be done next isn't me living my life--it was my life living me. I made a conscious decision to quit working at a job that I was totally burnt out on, and spend this year supporting (not controlling) my sons and working on my writing and speaking skills.

What happens when you actually make a decision about what to do? Why wonderful opportunities come your way, of course! Opportunities that I now have to say no to, based on the direction I've chosen. I have to say no to people with whom I've worked for years and admire and respect. I have to say no to work that gratifies my ego and would earn us some extra cash. I have to say no to travel and another accomplishment for my resume.

The opportunity, I need to remember, is not in saying yes this time. The opportunity is in saying no to anything that might distract me from the course I've chosen. If I continue to fill up these spaces with busy-ness, I will find myself right back where I was. So, I take a deep breath, choose to let go of all the chatter and fear, and find the courage (yes, courage) to say "No. Thank you, but no."

What Are Words For?

I had an unusual situation happen this week. I said something in a group of people and completely offended someone. Now, don't get me wrong. I have blatantly offended people before by expressing my beliefs or ideas on a topic. I've also put my foot in my mouth and experienced the lovely taste of leather many a time. This was different. I was speaking from my heart, and someone completely misinterpreted what I said. That is not a common experience for me.

I consider myself somewhat of a word expert (although since I've begun playing Words with Friends, I realize now that I am a neophyte). I am an English/Psychology major and daughter of an elementary school teacher. I have been in corporate communications for the last 20+ years. I am a published author. I consider myself a clear communicator--so you may not like what I say, but very rarely have I been misunderstood.

The person's reaction caught me completely off guard. When I discovered how the person felt about what I said, I was shocked and felt terrible. As a people-pleaser, the last thing I ever try to do is hurt someone's feelings. What I said had affected the person so much, he or she was contemplating not participating in the event about which we were meeting. That's a pretty big deal.

While I am going to let it go and not beat myself up about it, since it was not my intention to hurt anyone, it did make me think. As comfortable as I've become in communicating, words are an imprecise business. That's what I've loved about them. I hate math and am terrible at it. I've never like the right/wrong thing with solving math problems. Words are fluid, flexible, changing, and present you with a variety of options. The thing is, we hear and speak them through our own filters.

I'm thankful for this experience, jarring as it's been, because it's made me think about an aspect of communicating with which I haven't had much experience. What are words for? Hopefully they're for peace, for love, building people up and other positive things. Sometimes they're for fighting, when necessary. We must never forget, however, their power. In an age when we are surrounded by words--texting, tweeting, e-mailing--it would be imprudent to forget that.

I am THAT parent...

I’ve lost sleep for many nights now, waking up in the middle of the night, worried about the future of my teenage sons. Over the years, they have both had challenges with school, sometimes alternately, sometimes simultaneously, adding numerous grey hairs under my “natural” brown hair. After the 16-year-old leaves for school and I drop the 14-year-old off at his, my day is spent looking in dread at the caller ID on the phone each time it rings. “Mrs. Keller? This is Mr. So and So at Such and Such school. Could you come pick up your son?”

I am THAT parent of THOSE kids. The ones that get in trouble. The ones who get sent to the principal’s office—something I spent my entire school career trying to avoid. And somehow, every time I get that call and make the long, anxious trip to school, then enter that office with my tail between my legs, I am suddenly 10 or 13 or 16 again and haven’t managed to avoid the principal’s office at all. I see the sad, sullen face of whichever boy of mine managed to make an impulsive, regrettable decision and I am distraught.

In that moment, I feel ashamed and heartbroken. Perhaps I should be angry, but all I can think of is how great this young man of mine is. I know his heart, his intent, and his remorse. They are not malicious, my sons. They are not bullies or druggies or vandals. Their infractions usually center around disrespect, or controlling their emotions. Somehow I have raised two kids with no tolerance for bullshit or ineptitude, for which I am proud, and yet I have failed to teach them how to contain their contempt and frustration. Perhaps we cannot teach our children what we fail to do ourselves.

As this man (always a man) charged with being school disciplinarian looks at me and articulates the wrongdoing of my offspring, thoughts swarm in my head. My heart races. When he finishes, his words hang heavy in the room as I hear the soft sniffles of my son, head hanging, nose dripping. This man is waiting for me to say something. To give him some explanation of my failing or my son’s, to get angry or defensive, or give him some clue about what great parenting technique I am going to employ to change my son’s behavior. Or better yet, what punishment I will dole out that will be painful enough that he will never sin again.

But I don’t know what to say that will fulfill this man’s need. Sitting there calmly, my demeanor belies the tempest inside me. I hear words fall lamely from my mouth to somehow convince him that I am a good mother, an effective parent. Really I am just trying to move through this as quickly as possible so that I can race my child in slow motion out of that office and into the car and the safety of our home. I want out from under this magnifying glass hovering over his behavior and my parenting. Truthfully, the safety is partially for him and mostly for me.

The car ride home is usually quiet at first. After a few minutes when I think I have collected myself, I begin to talk, to question him, but the tears always come. Tears of sadness for him and his situation. Tears of distress that I have somehow failed him. Tears of frustration that here we are, once again, neither one of us learning how to prevent a repeat performance of his poor judgment. He sits, quietly, knowing that this is the second part of the torture that is his punishment for his behavior—me trying to force him to talk about his thoughts and feelings.

Usually, eventually, he will toss some crumb to me of what is going on inside that head and heart of his. It will have to suffice, because the more I push, the more he steels against my prodding. Sometimes, there is some consequence doled out—you can’t use the car, you’re grounded this weekend—and he slinks off to his room, texting, I’m sure, his real thoughts and feelings to his lifeline of friends.

Just as a wave peaks, then crashes, the drama of the event subsides over the next hours, running swiftly yet calmly up the shore. This is when inside I question myself, and begin the rumination over the details of the incident, trying desperately to find the key to what will change my son so we don’t have to do this again. It involves conversations with my husband—mostly me puking my thoughts and feelings on him—as well as time spent looking for counselors, diagnoses, medication, personal development programs and more. I am going to “fix” them, you see. I will show the world and that man sitting in the chair across from me at their schools that I am a good mother. They are good boys.

Years of this are beginning to take their toll on me and on them. I am spent. I am faced with what I know is true. I have two sons who are smart, funny, kind, thoughtful, emotional, creative, and strong-willed. While their personalities are so different, they share these traits. I am proud of the people they are and the men they are becoming. I raised them—intentionally and unintentionally—to question, even authority, to be different, to be passionate, and in doing so, to be messy. They are not on a straight and narrow path—they are on a divergent one, a bumpy and beautiful one of their own making.

In my heart, I knew this is what I wanted for those sweet little babies placed in my arms so many years ago, but I had no idea how difficult it would be for them to experience and for me to watch. I know my friends are facing the challenges of watching their kids go off into the world on their own as well, but I can’t help but feel that they have the reassurance of seeing down the road their son or daughter is on, even just a ways, while my son is standing in a jungle and I have no idea what is behind that next whack of his machete as he clears a path in front of him.

The days when they’ve gotten in trouble at school often end with dinner together, or sitting on the sofa watching T.V. and we find ourselves laughing at some You Tube video they are showing me, or they pull me in to listen to their latest guitar riff or drum solo. I see once again who they really are and I know in my heart I am a good mom. They are good boys. I valiantly try to let go of who I expected them to be, and desperately strive to embrace who they are and who they are becoming. It isn’t easy. But it is the work I am most proud of.

What is Mainstream?

The past few months have been a time of introspection for me. As my first born is turning 17 and we are focused on helping him toward independence, and my youngest is now 14, I am focused on the hard work of parenting teens. Although society frequently tells us that this is a daunting job, I still find myself looking around and wondering if it's as hard for everyone else as it seems to be for us!

It's not that we have bad kids; on the contrary, we have great kids! I am amazed every day by their senses of humor, their brilliance, their resourcefulness and loving kindness. They have beautiful hearts (messy rooms and smelly, dirty clothes, but beautiful hearts). And yet, they each face challenges that I don't see the majority of other kids around them facing. I told someone the other day, "they're just not mainstream." Her reply? "Why would they be? You're not either."

I have to admit it took me aback a bit. I have always wanted to be mainstream--at least part of me did, but it's true that another large part of me has always been different and wanted to be different. And if you ask anyone who knows Jim if he's a typical accountant...well, don't be surprised if you're met with a chuckle. While we aren't WAY out there, it's true that we probably haven't taken the road more traveled.

So I am doing a lot of letting go. Letting go of who I thought my kids would be. Letting go of who I thought I would be. Letting go of having control over what they choose to do. Letting go of the things I have been doing--like my work. It feels good on one hand, but on the other it's a little disconcerting. A bit like floating in space--looking down at how lovely the marble Earth is, but terrifying to be untethered to it.

I am beginning to see, however, that after this letting go, it's time for embracing. Embracing the wonderful, unique people my kids are and are becoming. Embracing a new vision of myself, what's important to me and what I want to achieve. Embracing not being in control and loving "what is."

Eventually I'll wade through enough of this psychological muck to see the possibilities and explore them. In the meantime, we'll keep hacking our way through the weeds and helping our boys to do the same. Creating your own path is challenging, but in the end, (hopefully) rewarding.

A belated thought on education...

So I signed up for, and officially missed, the national Blogging for Education Day--November 22. But I figure any day is a good day for blogging about education, so here I go.

The problem is, as usual, where to begin. I have so many problems with our current education system--and yet I feel so strongly about championing the teachers and administrators who continue to try to improve it, against all odds. It's not that anyone involved is party to its complete failure; there are some--many--great people trying to make it work. It's just that I think it's a hopeless cause.

I've had some very good friends argue that we are, generally, succeeding at providing education for the masses. In some respects, they can make their argument, but it is primarily centered around their own experiences. Likewise, my own opinion is centered around my experiences.

My experience: being too smart far too young. I was a July birthday, then I skipped Kindergarten, and did Matteo Ricci--graduating high school and college with a B.A. in six years rather than eight. I never fit in. Although I was challenged academically, the difference in my intellectual abilities and emotional maturity were marked.

My husband's experience: being smart, but not "book smart." Jim grew up thinking he wasn't very smart because he was a visual learner in an auditory environment. When you need to see it, and all people are doing is talking to you--good luck with that. Thank God he was a hard worker and persevered despite the challenge. A small adjustment would've shown him how smart he truly is.

My oldest son's experience: near genius IQ, barely passing grades. ADHD makes it challenging for him (mine went undiagnosed until adulthood). Despite mastering the content, if he doesn't jump through the academic hoops, his grades have never reflected his intelligence. Once again (like Jim), a kid who feels not smart because of grades that don't reflect his intelligence or value.

My youngest son's experience: so observant, so in touch, yet so turned off to learning and school. A perfect candidate for project-based learning, he wants to see the correlation between theory and reality. He can manage his own work, can be self-motivated, and is capable of great work--but is frustrated by being "talked down to" and not having his ideas respected in a traditional classroom. A highly intelligent kid who is bored.

So, four great minds, capable of great thoughts, great plans--yet what has our school system done to support us? To encourage creativity? To teach concepts in ways that we might understand? We are, I think, pretty indicative of how we are failing kids. Sure, we may be providing a basic education, but if you have ANY challenges--good or bad--you have to figure out your own way. As an adult educator, I know that we have known for years about different learning styles, yet we are still teaching kids as if we are preparing them for an Industrial Age. The fact is, the Information Age is far different, and requires different skills and abilities.

I, for one, don't have any confidence, whatsoever that our current system can change enough to meet the current and future needs of our children, and our country. It's why I've always advocated for charter schools. And, while the opponents of charter will show you statistics that they "don't work," the fact is there are plenty that do. Every day that we spend trying to turn the Titanic is a day another child drowns in the frigid waters of our current system. Let's look for new, innovate solutions, reward teachers who use innovation to achieve success, and train teachers and administrators to set up schools that will educate ALL of our kids for the 21st Century and beyond.

Well that was an election, wasn't it?

I pride myself on listening to all sides of the stories. I listen to Glen Beck, Bill Maher, FoxNews, CNN, MSNBC. I read People. Newsweek, Time, and occasionally, Huffington Post. I have a strident desire to find middle ground. The problem is that "compromise" has become a word with negative connotation. It means giving up something you believe in. Which, in some ways is true, but I love Steven Covey's concept of finding a third, better way.

I know politics is an "off limits" topic, but anyone who knows me knows that I'm a little fuzzy on the term "off limits." I think we DO need to discuss politics. I think it's sad that we no longer can enter into serious discourse because we've become so divided. I WANT and feel we NEED to find some common ground and search for ways to move forward.

The funny thing is, in all other areas of our lives, we do compromise...and we don't usually think twice about it. Do you hold a hard line at work and refuse to give? Not likely, because it could mean your job (which is a treasure in this day and age). Do you hold a hard line with your spouse, your friends--no matter what? Not likely, because the relationship is more important to you than winning the argument. Do you hold the hard line every time with your kids? I know we don't, as much as we try. Truth is, there is nowhere in our lives that we refuse to compromise, except when it comes to politics, and yet, it's so critical for us to move forward as a country.

If we continue to refuse to "give in", to refuse to find common ground, we will not move forward. We will continue to see elections where people vote Dem, Rep, Dem, Rep...and so on, and so on, and so on...just like the old shampoo commercial. The fact is, we have different ways that we believe we need to achieve the same thing, but as long as you hold yours and I hold mine, we'll never move forward. If each of us, just for a moment, lets go of what our "ideal" is and looks for a way that we can connect and find solutions, perhaps we can get out of this stalemate. Because, the reality is, an ideal is just that...an ideal. Ideals don't work because reality gets in the way. So the answer is somewhere between what you believe and what I believe.

If for one moment, we would be willing to let go of our agenda and "yes, and" someone with a different ideology, could we not--even by happenstance--find a third, better way? I assert that "compromise" is not a bad word. It is a neutral word, and a necessity sometimes.

I'm not professing that I have anything figured out, but I'm sick of being afraid of putting ideas on the table for fear of being attacked. What if...instead of attacking ideas, we opened our minds, regardless of who put the idea forward? What if...instead of taking sides, we took the same side? What if we took the time we invested in trying to be right, and invested it in trying to understand and figure out something new?

Sorry, I'm an idealist. Actually, on second thought, I'm not sorry at all.

You Can Want What You Want

Most likely you've heard some version of Steven Covey's habit of highly successful people, "Begin with the end in mind." After all, if we don't know where we're headed, then how will we know when we get there? Once you know where you're going, though, have you thought about why you want to get there?

Recently, I've noticed in many facets of life--business, education, our personal lives--we have an end in mind, but we don't seem to know why we want what we want. Case in point: I am working with a large electronics company this month and the executives wanted to post a long, un-engaging video, followed by a test, for their sales training people. When I--as an experienced curriculum designer--suggested a more engaging video, in smaller segments, with an element of interactivity, they immediately pushed back. Not because of money, but because they are concerned about their sales people hearing every bit of content. Forget that these are sales people who very likely don't want to sit and watch a video anyway. Forget that sitting and watching/listening to video is the least likely way that anyone is actually going to learn anything.

Then, they wanted to add safeguards so that people couldn't skip the content and just pass the test. Um. Huh? So what is the point of the test? To make sure they understand the content. If they understand the content and can pass the test without watching the video, what's the point of making them watch the video? They had a clear "end" in mind, but was their "why" really in the best interest of the people they are claiming to serve?

Haven't we really gotten to the same place in education? We have an "end" in mind--every kid can pass these ridicu...I mean, uh, state tests. So we put little tests and exercises in place that will ensure they pass the state test. Forget if the kid understands the concept or not--it's important that he or she put the time in doing mundane activities, because after all, isn't that what life is about? Isn't that how the U.S. is going to regain it's role as a leader and innovator? If we have a bunch of kids who are really great at doing hours of sitting and listening to lectures, and then doing pointless exercises? Again, tests in themselves can serve a legitimate purpose, but why is doing well on the test the end we have in mind?

And finally, how many times have you caught yourself--with your kids or your spouse or your friends--insisting that something needs to be a certain way? As someone who prides myself on being "out of the box", I find myself quite frequently insisting that something needs to be like this or that, until I stop for two seconds and think, "why?" Pretty much 10 times out of 10 I discover that whatever parameters I've put around the situation are self-imposed and there's no good reason that we can't get to the "end" a different way.

You can want that your salespeople will sit and listen to a boring video and take a test.
You can want that our nation's kids (and therefore, our nation) will achieve success by listening to lectures, performing mundane tasks, and getting great test scores.
You can want that your husband, or kids, or friend will do what you want them to, the way you want them to do it.

But wanting it doesn't make it so. And asking WHY you want what you want may just open up a new, better way of getting to that end you have in mind.