In judging others, we need to be aware of our limitations

Because I taught students how to be effective persuaders, I was often asked, “Why couldn’t someone take the exact persuasive techniques that you teach and use them the way Hitler used them in Germany more than sixty years ago?”  The answer is: “They certainly could!”  When you teach persuasion, you either teach ethics (what ethical behavior involves) or you assume that those learning the persuasive techniques will use them ethically.  Perhaps the key is to screen students first to make certain they know the difference between right and wrong, have the proper value system in place, and that their past standards of behavior are irreproachable. 

Everyone reading this knows the impossibility of such a test of principles.  But the reason I have proposed such an examination of students’ right-minded conduct is that even if students were to pass such an assessment and the appraisal turned out to be first-rate, and even if you combined such an appraisal with additional corroborating evidence from friends and family, you still could not make an accurate prediction about how these top rated individuals might behave in specific circumstances. 

The point is simply that it is not easy to assess the character of a person.  Here is a close, personal example, although the names have been changed.  Jason came from a Christian family.  His parents were missionaries abroad, and Leesa knew Jason throughout junior and senior high school.  He was the school’s athletic star (outstanding in every sport), and she was captain of the cheerleaders.  Even Leesa’s parents, who knew the family and Jason for many years would have given Jason a strong, positive reference.  Leesa and Jason married; Jason physically abused Leesa; they were soon divorced.   

In another instance, Emily was an outstanding high school student and voted head of student council.  Jacob was a star basketball player.  Jacob, like Jason, came from a religious family.  Both his parents were teachers; the father was a basketball coach at the local high school.   Emily and Jacob were introduced through friends, dated, and, finally, married.  Jacob, as it turned out, was a frequent user of pornography, a thief, a child abuser, and a chronic liar.  Because of these traits and a deceptive lifestyle, Emily and Jacob divorced. 

There is a third similar example as well.  Ethan and Ashley were both members of the high-school band.  They had gotten to know each other because they went to the same church.  Everyone knew both Ethan’s and Ashley’s parents as respectable, upstanding members of the community.  Ethan played drums in the high school pep band, and Ashley, an outstanding athlete, always saw Ethan at her sporting events.  Some interest was sparked between the two as they would hang out together after games.  Interest led to dating, dating led to marriage, and the marriage ended in divorce.  Why?  Ethan abused Ashley emotionally, preferred being single to being married, was too closely tied to his parents, and never seriously considered the importance of either a family or spiritual life. 

We often make decisions about people in real life based on insufficient evidence.  For example, talk to people about whom they voted for and why.  Often, they choose to vote for someone because they like how they look, they hear an insignificant comment made to them about the person by a friend, or they listen to their candidate respond to a reporter’s question in a way that pleases them.  The point of the three examples in the paragraphs above is that even when you think you know someone and even when you think you have sufficient evidence to judge their character, you don’t. 

In most cases in life, we decide who we like or dislike for no good reason.  It is truly an unfair decision based on little or no evidence.  But, if we waited until we knew everything about someone before we made up our mind, we would spend much of our time with no commitments to anyone—in relationship limbo.  Not only do we not have access to the kind of information we need to make up our minds, but even when we think we have gathered sufficient evidence to confirm a decision, the person behaves in such a way as to counter our judgment—totally repudiating not just our evidence but our ability to root out the essential information we need. 

In a class I once taught I had a female student, I’ll call her Samantha, who was talkative, aggressive, and dominating.  When I entered the classroom, Samantha was always talking, showing off, and grandstanding.  When I asked for volunteers, her hand was always the first to be raised, and I had to be careful to give other students a chance to answer questions, or she would have answered them all.  Samantha’s classmates did not particularly like her, but they tolerated her because, it seemed to them, it was better to stay on her good side than offend her in any way.  After the first examination in the course, I realized that Samantha could be the smartest student in class.  Other quizzes and examinations confirmed the first one, and her final paper for the course was one of the best I had ever read.  For all of her “negative” characteristics, Samantha loved the class, thought my approach to it was outstanding, and was the top scholastic student. 

We are all faced with this same dilemma about character.  For all of Samantha’s aggression and dominance, she was the brightest and most capable student in the class.  In another instance, I had what appeared to me to be a bright, capable, charming student who often came up after lecture to discuss something I said, a controversial issue, or a point of view he wanted to share.  It was precisely this student who a graduate teaching assistant discovered submitting the paper of a previous student in class as his own, proving that affability does not relate to one’s moral standards.  It’s the old aphorism that, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.”  My contention is that you can’t even necessarily judge a book by the book itself—the book doesn’t always contain enough information or the right information.  Even if it is the “right” information, it may not even hold true in all circumstances.  After all, presidents Thomas Jefferson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and John F. Kennedy had secrets which would not have increased their popularity if the facts had been made public. 

Perhaps the issue comes down to the judgments we make of others.  Maybe the best idea is to judge them only on the one, single area of their life that we are able to see or hear, and make certain that our communication of that judgment reflects our limitations.  We can’t judge people based on the sum totals of their personality because not only do we not have those totals, but we will never have them. 

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At the website The Well, the very brief (five paragraph) essay, “On the foolishness of judging others,” puts everything in perspective—quickly! 

At The Splintered Mind website, there is an essay by guest blogger, Hagop Sarkissian , entitled “Judging others: When it’s bad, it’s worse than you think,” that will really make you think.  The comments that follow the essay are, too, profound, interesting, and even challenging. 

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Copyright November, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.
    
    
   

Communication competence builds on competence

Having taught speech communication for thirty years, one question students raised on a continuing basis was “What is communication competence?”  A related question was “How do I know if I am a competent communicator?”  You see, most people already think they are competent communicators; thus, the underlying purpose of such questions is “What’s wrong with me?” or “Why don’t I measure up?” 

The most important reason that competent communication is important is because it has been proven to aid in gaining success in a wide range of social and occupational situations.  It is a process through which interpersonal impressions are shaped and satisfactory outcomes are derived from an interaction.  So, the real question becomes, how often do you offer others the impression you intend and derive the outcome you want? 

In this essay, I will define the characteristics perceived to comprise competent communication.  There are five. 

Low anxiety is the first one.  To be competent, communicators should not reveal excessive perspiration, shakiness, a rigid posture, vocal tremors, or a minimal response to others.  Being fearful, scared, or excessively worried about a job interview, a speech, or a forthcoming confrontation can produce anxiety.  Some anxiety is expected, of course.  As-a-matter-of-fact, some anxiety is valuable because it can drive an animated, passionate, vibrancy that may not occur otherwise.  In my experience I have found the tingle of anxiety both energizing and motivational. 

The second characteristic of competent communicators is immediacy.  Those who practice immediacy show interest in other people.  They are attentive and engage in the positive reinforcement of others and their ideas. 

You have probably been in the presence of another person who gives you their full and undivided attention when you talk with them.  When my wife and I were shopping for a foyer ceiling fan, we visited a store that specialized in them.  Upon entering, I noticed the sales clerk approach and stand before my wife, asking her if there was anything she could do for her.  The signs of immediacy were obvious.  She stood physically close to her.  She had an open and direct body posture.  She revealed positive reinforcers such as smiling, nodding, and eye contact.  And when my wife explained what she was looking for, all the sales clerk’s gestures were strong, effective, and animated. 

The third area of competent behaviors is expressiveness.  People who reveal expressiveness are perceived to be involved and animated in both their use of words and in their nonverbal behaviors.  Ask yourself, what is it about a communicator that holds your attention, that embeds the essential message in your consciousness, and that causes you to be convinced by the message?  Often, it is expressiveness. 

When I conducted an informal survey of students, I found out that teachers who demonstrated appropriate emotion and volume, who laughed and smiled, who used appropriate gestures, postures, and facial expressions, but did not know their subject well, were more desired as instructors, than those who knew their subject extremely well but could not (or did not) deliver the material as effectively.  These informal results revealed to me that students preferred expressiveness (effectiveness in delivery) over competence in subject matter.   

These informal results make sense when you consider that students cannot really judge subject competence, but they are not only effective judges of expressiveness, they require strong and effective expressiveness to hold their attention and to make a subject interesting.     

The fourth characteristic of competent communicators is interaction management.  The effective management of communication requires order.  The obvious question is, “What do two individuals who are trying to create order in their interactions do?”  Each is trying to gain the desired response from the other person; thus, each needs to solicit the cooperation of the other person in obtaining the goal—a goal that cannot be attained alone. 

Those who manage their interactions are interested in maintaining some control over their communication.  First, they see the relationship between communication and rewards (getting what they want).  Second, they monitor their communication in relation to the goals they seek.  Third, as they gain new information about how the other person responds to what they say and do, they adjust their communication.  At the same time interaction managers are respectful of others and enable them to achieve their goals, too, where possible, and allow room for their expressive behavior. 

Sometimes interaction management is easy.  Conversing is comfortable, interruptions feel natural, there are few awkward pauses, and the indications of when to speak are clear.  Sometimes, however, it is difficult; conversing is uncomfortable, there are unnatural interruptions, numerous awkward pauses, and you find yourself stepping on the other’s lines. 

The final characteristic of communication competence is other orientation.  Other orientation is the complete antithesis of a “me orientation” where everything revolves entirely around the communicator alone.  When you are in the presence of people who possess a strong other orientation, they will adapt to your needs, express empathy and concern for your feelings, listen well, and provide relevant feedback to you during the conversation. 

These five characteristics provide a fairly broad foundation; however, if you consider them overall goals to be achieved, you will find the important perception, listening, feedback, language, and nonverbal skills necessary for moving closer to achieving them on a regular basis.  The nice thing is that awareness of these five characteristics that can establish a solid and inter-personally competent foundation and as you gain more experience — especially positive, supportive, and rewarding results — you will have constructive, practical, and productive personal examples that you can use to build an even more competent future.  That is why it can be said that competence helps build greater competence. 

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The title on the page reads, “Communication Competence: The Essence of Aligning Action,” and in the short essay there by Richard D. Rowley,  you will find five characteristics discussed: 1) commitment and good faith, 2) empathy, 3) flexibility, 4) sensitivity to consequences, and 5) adeptness.  It is an informative little essay with a useful chart explaining the interrelationship of the parts. 

At the NCLRC (The National Capital Language Resource Center), there is an essay entitled, “Teaching Goals and Methods — Goal: Communicative Competence.”  It is a short essay that discusses: “Communicative competence [as] made up of four competence areas: linguistic, sociolinguistic, discourse, and strategic.” 

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Copyright October, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC
    

Feedforward will improve the accuracy and quality of your communication

On the first day of classes, just after students were settled in their classroom seats, I began my first-day lecture outlining some of the rules and expectations designed to govern their future behavior in my class.  When we took in a computer for repair, we gave the technicians an explanation (supported by a written list) of all the things we had previously done to get to the place where we needed their help.  In a third example, an employer began an interview with a prospect by clarifying the skills she expected from those occupying the position being sought, and by telling the prospect, “The questions you will be asked today are designed to examine how well you have demonstrated the skills we expect.” 

We use feedforward prior to future messages.  It is the information sent before new messages are delivered.  They may help recipients predict, anticipate, understand, or prepare for forthcoming messages, but their point, clearly, is to set the stage for what might come next.  They don’t always appear at the beginning of a message sequence; they can occur at any time during an interaction.  The only prerequisite for feedforward messages is that they come before what may follow. 

In a potential romantic situation, they may indicate whether those involved have any interest in each other.  Antonio saw Maria in the produce aisle of a grocery store, and when both reached for the same bunch of bananas, he smiled at her and chose another similar bunch instead of the one she wanted.  After that brief encounter, a very small door had been opened (feedforward).  Then, as Maria turned to go down the cereal aisle, she immediately met Antonio picking out cereals.  This time, she smiled at him — a prolonged smile that indicated there was interest.  By the time they accidentally met while waiting behind each other at the checkout counter, they were talking.  Notice in this instance how feedforward opened other channels of communication and paved the way for anything else to happen. 

As in each of the opening three examples feedforward can be used to provide a preview of what is to come.  Also, it can be used to offer disclaimers.  A disclaimer is a verbal device designed to ward off and defeat, in advance (feedforward), doubts and any potentially negative results from intended future conduct.  The goal in using feedforward as a disclaimer is to present others with cues that will lead to desired responses.  For example, if you knew, in advance, that you were going to act in a way that others might think is stupid, or even take offense to, you use feedforward to try to deflect those impressions.  You might say, before acting, “I know this is going to look stupid, but here goes....”  Or, if you thought what you were going to do might be offensive, you might say, “Now, please don’t take offense to what I am going to do.  I’m not trying to be offensive.”   

Disclaimers are used to define forthcoming conduct in such a way that the typical, expected, potential characterization of our behavior does not occur.  They can take many forms.  Here are examples of a few common disclaimers: “I’m not prejudiced, because some of my friends are _________, but...,” “This is just off the top of my head, so...,” or “What I’m going to do may seem strange, so bear with me...,” or “This may make you unhappy, but....” 

Feedforward messages can also suggest roles for others to take.  What we want them to do as a result of a message we give them is to take on an identity that will be consistent with our goals.  For example, we might say to a friend, “If you were me, what would you have done in this situation?”  Often, this is said to try to have a friend confirm for us that our behavior was appropriate or proper.  Examples are numerous: “What would you do if you were the teacher?,” or “If you were the boss, how would you have handled the situation?,” or “If you had a million dollars, what would you do?” 

Like feedback, feedforward is something often taken for granted in our communication.  We just do not think about it often.  But, as demonstrated here, it is not only common, but it relates to a wide variety of situations; thus, the more we understand it, the better we will be able to control our use of it and get the results we desire in communication situations.  Understanding simply gives us better control. 

There are six ways to improve your skills in feedforward.  First, when you know how valuable it is to opening channels, previewing what is to come, disclaiming, and suggesting roles, you can learn to make your feedforward signals clear, accurate, and distinct.  In this way, one you become aware of what you are doing, it is more likely that your signals will be easily and accurately received. 

Second, feedback is likely to occur at the same time as feedforward.  For example, to your smile you might receive a smile in return.  To your preview of important forthcoming information, you may perceive increased attention or alertness on the part of receivers.  Also, it is likely others will provide you with their own feedforward messages simultaneously with yours.  Thus, feedforward is unlikely to be a completely unilateral (source to receiver) process.  You need to be aware of both sending messages and receiving messages in these situations at the same time. 

Third, feedforward messages are likely to most effective if they are brief and to the point.  Attention spans are short, and people consider their time valuable.  Thus, when feedforward is especially complex, includes too much specificity, or involves needless information, it may not serve its purpose well. 

Fourth, strive for accuracy.  Feedforward messages must accurately reveal the message to come.   Inaccurate feedforward may negatively affect a communicator’s credibility, or it may cause listeners to discount future feedforward messages or, perhaps, any message that follows. 

Probably the most important suggestion regarding using feedforward is the same as the one that applies to using all forms of communication: monitor it.  Don’t just monitor your own use of feedforward messages, but monitor their effect as well.  When critical feedforward messages have not been received or understood, or if they have been received inaccurately, you may need to adjust or repeat the message.  This could be especially important when a life-or-death message is going to follow, or, too, if the message to follow could be critical to a third person. 

The heart of the feedforward process lies in your ability to anticipate situations.  Your ability at feedforward will help improve the accuracy and quality of your interpersonal communication. 

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Marshall Goldsmith has a great essay, “Want to give feedback?  Rather try feedforward,”   —especially his 10 suggestions for trying feedforward.   For the introduction to his essay, he writes: “Focusing on solutions, rather than mistakes, on the future, rather than the past, will enhance the self-image of business leaders and employees alike and propel them on the road to success.” 

At the Self-Defense website, the essay, “Anticipation – How to Prepare Yourself for a Dangerous Situation,” offers specific advice that would be incorporated in a feedforward perspective.  I quote here from the essay: “Anticipation in regards to self-defense means that you use whatever is handy in protecting yourself against an attacker. It means buying time while assessing the environment around you for a way out or potential weapon. Anticipation also means you should always carry with you a few items for self-defense that cannot be seen but can easily is reached in case of an attack on you as well as know how to use them comfortably so that the act is effortless.” 

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Copyright October, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.

How to reach students in today’s technology-driven world

My wife and I made a special effort to drive to Grand Rapids, Ohio, for their “Canal Days” (Sunday, September 10, 2006) because there was to be a Lewis & Clark educational program there.  The two fellows who performed as Lewis and Clark were former junior high school history teachers, and the fellow playing the role of Clark had actually ridden his bicycle the length of the trail just last year.  People (maybe 25 or 30 altogether) meandered in and out of the shelter where, wearing the same clothes Lewis and Clark might have worn, they gave their talk.   

Several things held our attention during the presentation.  First, both actors knew what they were talking about.  Having just driven the entire Lewis & Clark trail ourselves last year, we could verify much of what they said from our own experience and observations.  Second, the actors were animated, and their enthusiasm held audience attention.  Not only did they display a great deal of energy, but they played to their audience—some of whom were children.   

Another part of their program involved props, and they had many.  Some were maps laid out on the picnic tables at the front of the small pavilion.  The actors held in their hands the same kind of spears Lewis and Clark would have carried, and they had guns, animal skeletons, beads, pictures, a wood trap used to ensnare animals, and even the medallions they would give to the Indians they met along the trail.  There was a replica of the tent they would have slept in along the trail, and on one of the posts beside them was a framed picture of Sacagawea, the young Shoshone Indian woman who accompanied them on much of their trip.  

The point of this essay isn’t really what these two gentlemen said during their talk, it’s about what they did to make history come alive for their listeners.  In a Time magazine article entitled “History Goes Hollywood” (September 18, 2006, pp. 64-66), Nathan Thornburgh points out that schools are teaching less history, “so kids have less of an idea about what happened ...or why it matters (p. 64).”  But teaching less history is a small part of the problem—but definitely part of it. 

Because of theme parks, video games, movies, and the Internet, “Passive exhibits just aren’t going to attract young people today,” says Thornburgh, and because his article is about museums and historical sites, he discusses what many of them are doing because of dwindling crowds and shorter attention spans. 

For example, the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library & Museum has a talking Honest Abe hologram “and a host of other educational parlor tricks (p. 64).”   The Marine Corps museum in Quantico, Virginia, is using changes in temperature and humidity to immerse visitors in harrowing and heroic battlescapes.  In Colonial Williamsburg they are using Palm Pilots that visitors can point at various landmarks to get video presentations.  At Mount Vernon, Virginia, home of George Washington, they offer a heavy dose of showmanship: a scrolling cartoon of Washington’s life, an action flick about Washington at war where visitor’s seats will rumble when the cannons go off and where the audience is dusted with simulated snow when Washington crosses the Delaware River. 

For many museums, it is the cost that is keeping them from going the entertainment/ showmanship route.  Government funding for the arts has dried up.  Many of the large foundations that once supported such endeavors through their philanthropy are now supporting social causes and leaving both museums and history behind. 

There are important implications in all of this for education.  When museums and historical sites try to boost their attendance by dumbing down history, ripping out intellectually challenging exhibits to make room for vapid video presentations, writes Thornburgh, what does this say about the consumer?  How does this bear on education? 

Lonnie Bunch, founding director of the planned National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington says, “we also have to give visitors what they need.”  “But,” writes Thornburgh, “increasingly what visitors really need may be the same as what they want: less in-depth education, and more seduction....When it comes to history, Americans don’t lack information; they lack the attention span to wade through the dusty collections of the old history museums.” 

It’s a whole new generation, one labeled “The ‘Daily Show’ generation,” in an article by Mary Zeiss Stange (USA Today, September 12, 2006, p. 15A), a college professor.  One major demographic for John Stewart’s “Daily Show” are students—young (14-22 years old), well-educated, moderates (or liberals) who get their news, for the most part (almost 60%), from the Web.  Why are they attracted to “The Daily Show”?  It doesn’t take a scientific study to determine the reasons—Stewart’s is an entertaining, highly engaging, humorous, satirical riff on the news.  It is precisely designed for those entertained by the media and the Internet. 

These are the same students who occupy the seats in classrooms across the U.S.A.  The question that begs an answer is: How can educators compete?  It isn’t just in the history classroom, it is in the math, science, English, foreign language, and other classrooms as well.  Not only are there few resources and little financial support to obtain more, but what do the new technology-driven students with their short attention-spans and desperate need to be entertained require to satisfy their educational needs?  Is there hope?  

Teachers can’t dress up in costumes every day and use a wide array of props to make their points.  Daily lessons do not need to be dumbed down and the intellectually challenging assignments eliminated and replaced by vapid video presentations—less in-depth education and more seduction.   And teacher-education programs don’t need to begin offering circus training, costume designing, acting, and text messaging courses.  This is obvious.  But what is the answer?  How do educators make certain they are reaching today’s students and making the kind of impression that makes learning—knowledge acquisition—enjoyable enough to inspire a lifetime of continued interest in further learning?   

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“Fifteen guidelines for developing attention-holding lessons,” by Dr. Ronald Partin,  at his own website ronpartin.com, is an excellent essay with terrific suggestions.  All teachers need to read this essay. 

Heather Carriero, at the associated content website, in his essay, “Teacher Tips: How to Keep Student Attention,” includes at least five excellent suggestions. 

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Copyright October, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.
    
   

Through words, you become an architect of your own reality

Whatever.  I’m talkin’ an essay that, best-case scenario, takes no prisoners as it puts its ass on the line, kicks some butt, walks the walk, produces some roadkill, and gives 110 percent to explain that even though pop words rock, they, like, really suck.  Oh, they sound smart, but, trust me, I’m going to step up, break ‘em down, and show you they ain’t called no-brainers for nothing. 

With the exception of the word “essay” which I substituted for her word “book,” these words come from the prologue to Leslie Savan’s Slam Dunks and No-Brainers: Language in Your Life, the Media, Business, Politics, and, Like, Whatever (Alfred A. Knopf, 2005)—a brilliant, well-documented, extremely well-written book based upon her thirteen years of writing a column about advertising and commercial culture for The Village Voice. 

If you are like me you are feeling immersed (submerged?) in a world of popular catchwords, buzzphrases, and quickie concepts that Americans seem unable to communicate without using.  This verbal kudzu tells more about how we think than we think.   There is no doubt that many of these words and phrases—when used in the proper context—pack rhetorical oomph and social punch, but, as Savan notes, “today’s pop talk projects a personality that has mastered the simulation of conversation.  It’s a sort of air guitar for the lips, seeking not so much communication as a confirmation that...hey, we’re cool (pp. 10-11).” 

“Movie talk,” according to Savan, “suffers not so much from a dearth of good writers but from the assumption of producers and writers, bolstered by market research, that flattering and exciting audiences is more profitable than challenging them (p. 119).”  In the same way, the language drawn from the media—in this case movies—creates a physical sensation, often the pleasant one of numbing out—zingers offered for the sake of the zing, not for hard truths and obdurate realities. 

The main problem with catchwords, buzzphrases, and quickie concepts is that they are simply a form of entertainment that anyone can perform.  They connect people instantly and can keep conversations bobbing with humor and liveliness, but they work against taking ourselves seriously.  They are accessible, but they reveal no depth.   They are easy to understand, easygoing, and pleasant, but there is no substance attached to them.   Pop language is fun, useful, and free in the same way that advertising-supported media is fun, useful, and “free,” but there are obvious trade-offs, and the most important one is thought replacement.  “Repeated and mentally applauded over years,” Savan writes, “pop language carves tunnels that ideas expressed otherwise are too fat to fit through (p. 13).” 

The perfect metaphor for the effect that pop language has on communication is the way that people’s clothes and their delivery style commands the attention of listeners far and above anything communicators might say.  Using catchwords, buzzphrases, and quickie concepts, whatever points communicators make gain acceptance not on their merits but on how familiarly they are presented and how efficiently listeners’ tongues snap into grooves.  It is as if these phrases are themselves “no-brainers.”  Buzz-loaded repertoire displaces thinking with a pleasant buzz!  Truth drowned in a sea of irrelevance! 

There is true value in using catchwords, buzzphrases, and quickie concepts.  For example, high-profile words allow listeners “to feel special, individualistic, above the crowd—and, simultaneously, very much part of the crowd, drawing power from the knowledge that they’re speaking the same language as millions of others clued-in individuals,” writes Savan (p. 17).  The word, phrase, or concept becomes a thought, or more accurately, a stand-in for a thought. 

Savan sums up this idea, using the appropriate catchwords and buzzphrases, saying, “The thrill is gone; been there, done that; same old, same old.  But that’s neither here nor there, because if a phrase has the right stuff, it doesn’t merely express an idea, it owns the motha’ (p. 20).” 

“Phrases like these aren’t just cliches.  They’re more like a bad case of televisionary Tourett’s—involuntary, canned punch lines that bring the rhythms of sitcom patter into everyday experience,” writes Savan. 

Human communication holds greater possibilities than catchwords, buzzphrases, and quickie concepts, but this pop language is not designed to plumb life’s mysteries.  Rather, it establishes the fact that users recognize and can characterize any pre-characterized thing or situation.  If people can produce the right phrase at the right time, it reassures them that they are awake and can connect. 

Even more important than being awake and connecting, catchwords, buzzphrases, and quickie concepts come with built-in applause signs and laugh tracks.  They are a direct reflection of our entertainment culture—whether it is movies, television, or the Internet—and being absorbed in this culture creates commercial-flavored norms that shape values and expectations.  “And keeping us on track,” writes Savan, “they provoke in us click responses, the sort of electronic-entertainment tic we twitch and jerk with more often lately (p. 12).” 

Again, borrowing from Savan’s prologue, “You don’t have to be a brain surgeon to see that too much pop is totally lame-o.  But what if a rocket scientist just doesn’t get it and refuses to opt out?  What if he hollers, ‘Pop words rule!”? 

“No prob:,” Savan writes, “I’ll grab him by the lapels, jerk him around, yank his chain, bust his chops, rattle his cage, push his buttons, hang him out to dry, and let him twist slowly, slowly in the wind.  Oh, he’ll be one sick puppy, and he won’t be a happy camper.  He might even throw a hissy fit.  But here’s the beauty part: He’ll get with the program (p. 8).” 

“Our language puts blinders on us,’ says linguist Robin Lakoff, author of The Language War.  “The way we construct language influences the way we see reality, and reality influences language.”  Students of all ages need to be involved in language-rich environments so they can be sure of words, find alternatives to catchwords, buzzphrases, and quickie concepts, and become, through their words, architects of their own realities.

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Sarah White writes a short essay, “The Power of Language,” at the website I’m So Corporate, which nicely explains how powerful it can be. 

At TeachingK-8,  Mary Ellen Bafumo has written a thorough, clear, and interesting essay on “The power of language.”  She is a Program Director for the Council on Educational Change, an Annenberg legacy group, and divides her essay into three parts: 1) Language inspires us, 2) Language Moves Us to Action, and 3) Language has power.  Under the third category she offers 10 specific ways to develop power through the use of language. 

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Copyright October, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.

The lessons of college translate well into real life

So many students today doubt the value of college because they don’t believe, first, that it has any practical value.  Will it prepare me for a job?  Second, time spent in college is time wasted when it comes to earning money, as far as they’re concerned.  And the more time that it takes, the more money lost.  Third, it is a lot of work, and they feel they have just put in a lot of work finishing high school, and they just can’t see putting up with a whole lot more of that “crap.”  

Often, for these students, it is just these kinds of sentiments that help destroy whatever value there is in a college education—if they decide to pursue it, that is.  Sometimes it is just these kinds of thoughts, too, that make failure in college a self-fulfilling prophecy.  It is obvious these students haven’t been informed about the lessons colleges teach, listened because the sentiments above have loomed too large in their short-sighted, narrow minded, unimaginative little minds, or believed they are true. 

Hard work.  There are numerous lessons colleges teach that translate well into real life.  It wasn’t unusual for me, as an adviser to many students (our major, speech-communication, often had the most students choosing it as their discipline in the entire university) to have freshmen come into my office who had just experienced their first examination failure.  One of their predominant thoughts was, “I guess I’m not cut out to be in college.”  It is a reflection of the society we live in today.  Failure is a signal to quit and not try harder. It is not a signal to try another approach or seek help at once.  What students don’t understand is that once they quit, it’s easy to do it a second time.  It’s exactly the same in life.  Why, for example, do people who decide to get a divorce rather than work at a marriage, discover that their second marriage is even easier to walk away from?  The statistics support it. 

College teaches students that if they want to succeed, they have to apply themselves.  It can’t be a second or third priority after work, relationships, or partying.  They must do things before examinations, during courses, after class meetings, and even on their own that will assist them in being the best they can be—applying all of their ability, talent, background, and knowledge to every assignment, project, paper, and examination.  To give less often results in evaluations that are mediocre, less than desirable, or even failing. 

Teamwork.  This may not immediately come to mind as one of the “lessons” college teaches, however, if you consider the number of discussion groups, organizations, work groups, clubs, sports, fraternities or sororities, and other associations to which students often devote their time, one can easily see that there may be no better training ground for teamwork than college.  It is certainly true to life.  In the basic speech-communication course I directed for over twenty years, one third of it was specifically devoted to group participation and leadership.  How many people can you think of who achieved success by themselves?  The ability to work with others and help make them become the best they can be comes from lessons learned through practice in teamwork. 

Rules.  Rules seldom bend.  Students may not like the rules, but they have to learn to live by them.  Whether it is attendance, a performance date, a due date for a paper or project, or the day and time for examinations, students have to play by the rules, or they are penalized.  Those students who are flagrant violators seldom succeed.  And when students cheat—to attempt to succeed on their own terms—whether they are caught or not, it is an unfortunate reflection of life, as well.  In some cases, when caught, they must learn the lesson the hard way.  Although nobody likes it and would prefer not discussing it, there are cheaters in life.  Sometimes they are caught, and sometimes they succeed in getting away with it.  Despite all of that, the rules remain. 

Rewards.  Just as in life, there are many different kinds of rewards in college.  Many are obvious, such as getting a good grade.  Some rewards are personal, however.  For example, because I directed a large basic course that involved public speaking, one reward I talked to my students about—especially my more shy or timid students—was just getting up in front of their fellow students and getting through a public presentation.  Forget about the critiques, evaluations, and grades.  “You have succeeded,” I would tell them, “and you deserve a personal reward of some kind, if you can just get up and successfully get through the speech you have planned.”  Sometimes it is just such private, personal goals that can be the most rewarding.  They can cause you to stretch and grow as nobody else would know or understand. 

It is the same way in life.  When there are no obvious grades to reward success, the private, personal goals can be even more motivational and rewarding.  Think about doing something you have never done before such as learning to play an instrument, climb mountains, sky or scuba dive, ride a bicycle cross country, or learn a new language.  When you have succeeded, just as you did in college, give yourself a well-deserved personal reward. 

Life.  Many times during my years teaching in college, I saw students turn their lives around because of a teacher’s influence.  It happened to me in a basic speech course I was required to take, and from a pre-medicine program that had occupied my focus for almost seven years, I changed to become a speech major.  To me, helping my students out of the classroom as an advisor was just as important as helping them become good students in my classes.  A course covers only a short period of life, and then it’s over.  A student’s life after classes, and how he or she lives it, is far more important. 

Even as a director and lecturer in a large basic course, I was able to help students with certain basic “lessons of life.”  For example, I lectured on time management, the importance of the language they use to express themselves, how to gain control of their lives,, the relevance of good organizing skills, how to establish credibility, and how to give the speech of their lives. 

Students need to understand that if the point of life is to not just to run the race but to succeed, college helps teach them that what they sacrifice today, they will gain tomorrow.  I know that for me college reinforced the importance of hard work, strengthened my ability to work as part of a team, underscored the value of playing by the rules, buttressed the role that rewards played in my life, encouraged my change in direction because of a teacher’s influence, and, in addition, deepened, enriched, and improved my ability to live beyond the college walls.  

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At GetRichSlowly.org, the essay, “The value of a college education,” very effectively discusses the financial benefits and lists other benefits, too.  But what is the most interesting on this website are the 133+ responses to the essay.  The essay and all the responses are well worth your attention. 

At the QuintessentialCareers.com, website, the essay by Katharine Hansen is entitled, “What Good is a College Education Anyway? The Value of a College Education,” is unbelievably thorough and complete.   If you want to be convinced of the value of a college education, this essay by itself will do the trick! 

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Copyright September, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.

Essay anniversary III: A Writing Career And Then Some

 If I had difficulty accepting the fact that I survived writing one essay a week for a year, then two years, it comes as a major shock to me to accept the fact that I have now been doing it for three years.  Remarkable, to say the least!  It is not just the fact that I have now published on the blog 156 essays (representing approximately 156,000 words!), but that it has taken place uninterrupted, that I had enough “unique” ideas to come up with that many essay topics, and that I have not only maintained interest in doing it but have had great fun as well. 

I keep a list of the essays I write, and when one of them is posted on the blog, I put a big, bold, checkmark next to it.  In that way, it helps me not to repeat posting an essay previously posted.  I just counted the number of essays on the list without a checkmark next to it, and that total is 42.  Forty-two unchecked essays represents ten essays short of a full year of essays, so the stockpile is sufficient, and essays are currently posted through the end of 2010.  (There must be a stockpile to allow me time to pursue my other writing projects.) 

Some of the essays I write are for cathartic release and will never see the light of publication on the blog.  They are written for my own personal delight and satisfaction! 

For this anniversary essay, I want to talk about more than simply what I have and haven’t learned from writing essays or the contentment and joy that has resulted from writing them.  I have mentioned both of these in the previous two anniversary essays.   Rather, I want to take a brief moment here to take stock.  At the risk of sounding totally self-absorbed, self-indulgent, and self-important, I simply ask readers of my essays to allow my self-obsession in this single essay.  This is my “taking stock” opportunity, and despite the egotism it reflects (those who know me well would never suspect the least bit of egotism! —I need a smiley emoticon here!), I will proceed unabated. 

I took courses and fulfilled my master’s degree requirements with hours. I never wrote a master’s thesis at the University of Michigan, and I regretted passing on that opportunity, but it was the easiest route to completing the degree before leaving for Indiana University.  I had written a number of papers for the courses I took, and I felt that I was a good writer (egotism displayed early!) 

More papers accumulated at Indiana along with a dissertation, “The History of the Lyceum Movement in Michigan, 1818-1860.”  The writing of that dissertation taught me two things: 1) I was not a very good writer, and 2) I could be a much better writer.  But, the dissertation launched me on a professional academic career that lasted over thirty years. 

The reason that choice—“a professional academic career”—is important is simply the “publish or perish” commandment that accompanies the choice.  Some academics condemn it; some attempt to avoid it (often those drop out of academia); and some try to substitute for publications, other work (e.g., presenting papers at conferences, directing radio or theater productions, or serving in administrative positions).  I accepted it and abided by it. 

What “publish or perish” did for me was provide the motivation to write, and the beginning of my professional academic career certainly offers a benchmark for a high-level of productivity.  I have to say, too, that there was another reason involved.  Money.  Financial incentives resulted primarily from publications, and when I determined that most of my faculty colleagues were not publishing and that an annual pool of “merit money” was available for distribution, I did everything in my power to obtain a portion of that pool—annually. 

During my professional career I had 16 of my speeches published in Vital Speeches of the Day, and I wrote close to 100 “scholarly” publications.  I place the word “scholarly” in quotation marks for a couple of reasons.  First, most of the writing I did was of an instructional nature, and although the journals where those articles were published were academic, many were not really labeled “scholarly.”  Second, when you read sophisticated theoretical articles that argued, advanced, or proposed new theories and then you read my contributions, you would quickly come to the conclusion that mine were not “scholarly”—academic yes, but not scholarly. 

In 1973, a colleague of mine, Saundra Hybels, whom I met in a graduate class at the University of Michigan, asked me to co-author a college textbook called, Speech/Communication.  This is when my textbook writing began.  Counting just the textbooks (and not each of the revisions), I wrote close to ten.  A couple of those were very successful.  My book, Understanding Interpersonal Communication, went through seven editions, and my book (co-authored through 1999 with Hybels) Communicating Effectively, went through ten editions. 

Because college textbook writing produces its own financial rewards, textbooks are given little credit when it comes to distributing merit.  It is for this reason—as well as the desire to write a great new book (there’s that ego coming into play again!)—that two of my professional colleagues and I chose to write the book, Research in Speech Communication.  At that time, it was considered the book for beginning graduate courses in speech communication. 

When I began writing textbooks, I often thought about the time I could retire from teaching and just write for a living.  When I chose to take early retirement from college teaching, I was able to spend time writing other things than “scholarly” articles and textbooks.   

It was only after retirement from teaching that I began writing essays for The (Toledo) Blade—and only after the minister of our church at that time, talked about one of his that had been rejected.  He cited the perameters of published essays in his sermon.  I had sixteen published, but it ended abruptly with the retirement of the editor who began the column, “Saturday Essay.” 

That was the time—the termination of that Blade column—that the web site, www.andthensomeworks.com was launched, and I began writing weekly essays and soon after, a five-day-a-week blog.   

Soon after the creation of the blog came the establishment of my own publishing company, And Then Some Publishing, LLC, and the publication of my first collection of 50 essays, And Then Some: Essays to Entertain, Motivate, and Inspire,  Having proven successful, I went on to publish five more books or collections: 1) Public Speaking Rules: All You Need for a GREAT Speech! 2) SMOERs: Self-Motivation, Optimism, Encouragement Rules, 3) You Rules—Caution: Contents Leads to a Better Life, 4) Relationship Rules: For Long-Term Happiness, Security, and Commitment, and 5) Laugh Like There’s No Tomorrow: Over 2,000 Jokes from the Internet. 

That is the way my writing career has progressed; thus, this anniversary is more than a celebration of 156 published essays.  It is, for me, a personal celebration that represents a successful writing career with more essays and books to follow.  What’s fun about that is simply that it has been a writing career—And Then Some! 

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At the Writer’sDigest web site, at “There Are No Rules,” Jane Friedman writes a delightful little essay, “Your Writing Career May Depend on Someone You Never Meet,” about Andrew R. Malkin. Friedman writes: “Read that blog entry describing [Malkin’s] history and his shift into the electronic book publishing industry and you may come to understand better "what" is happening to ebook publishing as the big guys take over, and why they do what they do despite anything we can do or be or become.” 

At the web site, Best Children’s Books, Steve Barancik has written an essay entitled, “Here's an HONEST writer's bio of me, Steve Barancik....”   This is an entertaining, very insightful, autobiography (year-by-year) of Barancik.  What is so interesting about his development as a writer is that he is brutally honest.  So, if you have any desire to become a writer, this is a great place to begin.  Congratulations Steve!  Great essay. 

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Copyright September, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.

There is no way to capture the effect teachers can have on you

 It was a simple conversation in our living room when Madison (age 11), our oldest of nine grandchildren, said, in front of both her parents and grandparents, that she wanted to be home schooled.  As it turns out, one of her friends is home schooled, and I think Madison just thought it would be fun.  Asked how that would happen, she thought she would spend time on the Internet and watching television.  Both of her parents, without hesitation or reservation, told her directly that there was “no way that was going to happen.”  It was a message Madison had heard before; thus, she wasn’t surprised, but I used the opportunity to talk about teachers and their value. 

My first comment was how much knowledge and information teachers brought to their classrooms because of their individual preparation, background, and experiences.  What I wanted to do was impress Madison with the fact that there is no single person who can possibly represent all that preparation, background, and those experiences.  One of the tremendous advantages of school is having all those different teachers. 

My second comment was that you never know from where inspiration is going to come.  Teachers, in addition to sharing knowledge and information, are motivators and inspirers.  When students develop an interest in learning outside of or beyond the classroom, in general they can point to a single teacher who nurtured that interest.  It is precisely when that transition occurs that real education begins.  It is when that transition occurs that the teacher begins to reside within us, and we follow the directions of an inner voice, an inner educator, an inner motivator.  It is when that transition occurs that education becomes immediate, relevant, personal, and meaningful.  

Unfortunately, because of other things, our conversation about the value of teachers ended there.  It ended with some strong encouragement from Madison, who said, “Grandpa, you ought to write an essay on this topic.”  And that is the etymology of what you find here. 

As individuals, teachers did not make impressions on me until I was in junior high school.  They were all good, it seemed to me, and all of them taught me, motivated me, and inspired me.  I can’t think of a single negative experience I had with teachers during the entire course of my educational career.  Perhaps it was luck, but I think teachers like good students, and I was definitely a good student.  It wasn’t because I wanted to be “good”; it was because I loved to learn.  Everything just seemed so new, intriguing, and fascinating.  I was captivated. 

Ms. Irene Smith, one of my junior high school math teachers, would ask students questions, then she would stand to the side of the classroom, waiting for an answer, while she rolled chalk between the palms of her hands.  Each time the chalk crossed her wedding ring, it would made a loud click, as if she was counting the seconds before she asked the same question of another student.  It was as if we were in the military, and these were our daily drills.  I kept up with my homework, I liked math, and I learned to love being put on the spot.  I knew the answers, and although most students did not like Ms. Smith, I did. 

It was Mr. Snyder, my ninth grade social studies teacher, who truly guided my early interest in becoming a medical doctor.  The whole focus of his class was the preparation of a career notebook, and Mr. Snyder had us develop it throughout the term, in steps, and with his assistance.  It was wonderful, and I found Mr. Snyder not only supportive and encouraging, but he would continually suggest where additional resources could be found.  I always followed his leads, and I developed the largest, most impressive, and complete career notebook of any member of the class.  (That was one of my goals!)  This was a project I devoured, and I spent more time on Mr. Snyder’s project than I spent on anything related to school thus far. 

I never knew what subject he taught, but Mr. Marquart was the junior-high-school football coach.  I was in the ninth grade, and I decided to go out for football, but because I was so small, I was put on the “freshman” (seventh grade) team.  Because of my maturity—I was two years older than anyone else on the team—I was a starter, and it was Mr. Marquart who made me an end.  I could run and catch passes, but the beauty of our team was John Charles Morton.  We really didn’t need a quarterback, full back, or even an end.  If we just gave the ball to John Charles, he would make the touchdowns.  We were number one, and we never lost a game.  John Charles was not just the key to our success, he was the team, and I loved running interference for him for the few steps I could stay in front of him.  Because of my size, I would throw a block, and John Charles would pass me in an instant headed for the end zone. 

Mr. Barclay taught biology in junior high school, and every day was an inspiration.  In his droll, serious, and knowledgeable manner, he would direct our attention to so many fascinating aspects of science that class was full of amazing revelations.  We dissected mice and birds; we drew pictures of what we dissected; and we learned so much about life and the way our bodies worked.  He did not teach by lecturing; his method was to demonstrate.  And he immersed his students in the wonders of life and all of its facets. 

Mr. Barclay served as a reference for all of my future science teachers.  In college, I created a notebook of leaves in botany, a notebook of all the constellations for astronomy, and I had a notebook—actually a workbook—in zoology which allowed me to draw all the organs of the bodies in the numerous dissections in which we engaged.  I loved science, and it is a credit to Mr. Barclay and his enthusiasm for biology that paved the way for my continuing interest. 

One of my outstanding teachers, too, was Mr. Granville, my ninth grade English teacher.  It was advanced English, and Mr. Granville, a very small, stout, gentle man, offered me some of the most profound and encouraging advice of any teacher I had had.  He said that I had the gift of a writer, and if I studied hard, wrote a lot, and pursued my studies with zeal (he liked that word!), that I could be a successful, accomplished, and satisfied writer.  Mr. Granville was a walker—it kept him thin—and it was a sad day when I learned that he had died of a heart attack on one of his daily walks. 

These are some of the teachers I had before I arrived at college.  I know my parents could have home schooled me if they had chosen to because both were teachers, but I would never trade the knowledge, background, and preparation of even these few teachers for what might have been a home-schooling experience.  It was from these teachers that my inspiration for learning began. 

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At the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) website <>, there is a long essay, “The Influence of Teachers---On Rewriting, Character Education, and the Future of America,” by John Merrow.  In the first paragraph, Merrow writes, “So it was to my great surprise when, in 2006, 40 years after I last entered a Schreiber classroom, some former students invited me to their 40th high school reunion. How could they possibly remember me, I thought? And how could I turn down such an opportunity? I accepted the invitation and prepared myself for a sentimental stroll down memory lane. What the day ended up offering me, however, was something altogether different: a powerful reminder of the lasting influence teachers have on the lives of the young, as well as some insights into where education in this democratic nation has missed the mark in recent years.”  That is what Merrow’s essay is all about. 

At The Quad, the student newspaper of West Chester University <>,   there is an interesting and powerful essay, “Teachers have a continuing influence on students,” by Suzanne Brady, which she ends by saying, “[I]want to aim high in my life and hope that teachers and parents will realize how much of an influence they are on our future leaders of America. Please keep in mind that our students and children today are our future leaders of America. We need to help them stay motivated and learn as much as they can. There is a great amount of knowledge out there that is available to our students and we need to help instill that yearning in our students for the good of every generation to come.”  This is an enjoyable essay to read. 

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Copyright September, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.
   

Romantic notions help us maintain balance—a stable, steady footing—in our lives

All my life I have held a romantic notion about living in a remote location with my computer along with a subsistence level of survival—just enjoying the wilderness, a “green” existence, and the essentials of survival and nothing more.  After all, I am a writer.  It is a lonely profession in which I need solitude, great chunks of solitary confinement, and license to exist by myself out of reach of civilization. 

A recent cruise to the Inside Passage of Alaska began to shake some of my romantic notions.  I talked, for example, to some of the residents of Skagway, Alaska, just to see why they choose to live there year round.  Skagway was once Alaska’s most populous town.  Now only four blocks wide and just over twenty long, it is nestled into a cozy and picturesque setting between the 7,000-foot Coast Mountains (Canadian boundary).  Many summer residents, of course, only live there during the tourist season when as many as eight cruise ships at a time, may add from 15-20,000 people to a permanent village population of only about 841 people. 

One employee of a small tourist shop said he had chosen to live in Skagway year round because it is a great place to bring up your children.  He said he had three kids.  The schools were great, with lots of individual attention for students, the atmosphere is clean and healthy, and, he said, you can leave your kids outside all day to play without supervision.  He said the crime rate in Skagway is negligible.  (He suspected that whatever crime rate there is, is a direct result of the tourist industry, but it disappears as quickly as the ships slipping away from their dockside ports after only several hours of being in town.) 

Interestingly, the shop employee said that the only time he and his wife had to be outside with the kids was at dusk and after dark.  That is the time the black bears come into town from the surrounding forests.  He said it wasn’t unusual to see one right in the middle of the road outside his shop.  They scavage for food in the town’s outside garbage containers, but they are as scared of humans as humans are scared of them; they are just more imposing. 

Our female guide on our Skagway shore excursion, an extroverted, humorous, single writer for the local Skagway newspaper published with local news only every-other-week, and who looked and sounded like Barbra Streisand, had stayed in Skagway for three years and had an interesting view of life there.  She was waiting for her boyfriend to come home from Iraq and, originally, had decided to give Skagway but six months as a live-in trial. 

She said that life there was definitely unique.  Everything in town (including cars) had to be shipped in by barge.  When the barge arrived (usually once a month), the townspeople would flood the local supermarkets for the freshest fruits and vegetables they could find.  What the food barge brought in was what was available for the next month or so. 

There was no doctor, dentist, health-care professional, or hospital in town.  Those with serious health problems had to be flown to another town. 

During the six months of winter, it was dark most of the time.  At the height of the winter months, there was a mere twenty minutes of sun, and that was like dusk.  Also, being part of a massive temperate rain forest system, during the summer it rained almost every day, and if it was not raining, it was overcast much of the time.  Talk about gloomy weather!  Alaska, and Skagway contributes its fair share, has the highest suicide rate of any state in the nation, and one can easily see why that is true. 

There is a third feature of the weather in Skagway that makes that location unusual.  During three weeks in January there is an intense, non-stop wind.  Skagway is located just on the other side of a long mountain range that separates the town from Canada and the inland.  During the winter, air pressure accumulates on the Canadian side of the mountains, and as it builds it pushes the clouds up vertically toward the top of the mountain range.  Our guide said that when the clouds begin drifting over the mountains in January, that is the sign that everyone in Skagway must go out and purchase provisions to supply themselves for three weeks and then go home and batten down the hatches. 

Located in a large U-shaped groove between the 7,000-foot mountains, fashioned thousands of years ago by a massive glacier, Skagway provides a conduit for the air from the buildup on the Canadian side of the mountains to reach the water—the glacier-carved Lynn Canal fjord.  Our guide reported that winds maintain a constant speed of 60-70 miles per hour, nonstop, for three solid weeks when you can’t even open an exterior door to your house. 

It isn’t any single factor—the dependency on the barges, the lack of medical-service personnel, or the weather—that made me second-guess my romantic desire for isolation.  It is the total picture.  When you’re accustomed to having many choices—fresh fruits and vegetables, meats and poultry, and all brands and kinds of products—it is difficult to make a decision to give all of that up. 

When we were in Australia for 6 months, our choices were limited, but we discovered that it doesn’t take long to become accustomed to it.  When we returned home, we even discussed the possibility of limiting what we needed to live comfortably, but it isn’t long until the supply catches up with what you want—not what you need, but what you want.  Soon, once again, you begin to appreciate all that you have and all the choices you have in order to have more! 

I still retain some of my romantic notions regarding living in a remote location; however, I now know for certain it won’t be in Alaska—specifically, Skagway.  It is like many places we have visited throughout our travels.  It is a great place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. 

So often, I think, the romantic notions we have about how we would like to live are just that—romantic notions.  There is no need to prove them, live them out, or fulfill them in any direct manner.  They are pleasant, comforting, and adequately soothe our idyllic, picturesque, fairy-tale side.  They offer, too, more than just a reason for living; they are, indeed, a placid, warm, snug, and cozy place where our thoughts can reside in a calm and peaceful manner without agitation, distress, or upset.  We need romantic notions to maintain a balance—a stable, steady footing—in our lives. 

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At Askville.com (sponsored by Amazon.com) , the question posed is: “Have you ever thought about becoming a hermit/recluse?”  The readers responses are varied, interesting, and worth a read. 

At Success From the Nest , there is a post called, “Are you becoming a home-based hermit?” by Jon Morrow, that offers a number of useful tips.  The 24 reader comments on Morrow’s post are also fun to read. 

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Copyright September, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.
    
    

                              

Learning how to fly

When I was nineteen and living in East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) with my parents, I worked at the United States Information Service (U.S.I.S.) making an enormous amount of money and having no way of spending it all.  The choice to take flying lessons occurred because I had the money, time, and interest.  The plane was a single engine, dual-open-cockpit, bi-wing, Tiger Moth—the same kind flown by Snoopy — and lessons took place weekly on a remote, unused concrete airstrip outside of Dacca, the capitol city.  It was, by far, one of the most exciting, risky, and adventurous events in my life. 

Why would my lessons in learning how to fly merit an essay?  Because, I feel, the requirements that go into learning how to fly are similar to those that signal when a little bird is ready to leave its nest — or, when a child is ready to leave home.  Not to fill the basic prerequisites is likely to create major problems if not disaster. 

What I was told as I began my lessons was, first, to take a trial flight just to see what it would be like.  It is similar to sticking your big toe into the bathtub to make sure the water isn’t too hot before getting in.  That trial flight whet my appetite like nothing else could.  The wind, noise, and speed charged-up my engines like only adrenaline could, and it took just one circle around and above the runway to know that I was ready to begin. 

Having a skilled (English-speaking) and knowledgeable instructor was important, and after that trial flight we were not back in the air for another week while I read about the instruments, learned the rules, regulations, and laws, and took a very basic medical examination.  Admittedly, the instrumentation in the old Tiger Moth airplanes was simple compared with airplanes today, and the rules, regulations, and laws governing our flights (and any future flying I was to do in East Pakistan) was uncomplicated.  My physical health turned out to be excellent, and not being prone to heart attacks, effects of heights, or weaknesses in either sight or hearing, my clear bill-of-health allowed lessons to begin at once.  My teacher was both patient and understanding, and he relished the opportunity of teaching an American.  I was an eager and willing student. 

Every lesson I took began with a briefing, and the first one was no exception.  The first one included what to do in emergency situations like engine failure or rapidly deteriorating weather, and the first instruction was simulated only.  In other briefings, my instructor explained in detail principles behind the forthcoming flight and what I could expect to make sure that I understood what I was about to learn.  In every case, too, he gave me plenty of time to ask questions.  He knew I couldn’t remember everything, and that much of what he covered would become clear once in the air.  The briefings were simply overviews. 

My instructor obviously had confidence in me for he let me take control of the instruments the first time we were in the air, and after a number of air maneuvers that helped me understand how the plane moved in response to what I would do in the cockpit, we began to do take-offs and landings, which are—by far—the most difficult part of flying.  I found take-offs and landings to be the best part of flying because there were so many variables involved in trying to get them perfect, and, yet, there was such a tremendous sense of satisfaction when everything came together to yield a perfect take-off or landing. 

Usually your first solo comes between 10 and 20 hours of time in the air.  My first one came between 5 and 10 hours because my instructor felt I was ready.  He wanted to know if I thought I was ready, and my reply, as a cocky, confident, and self-assured teenager was, “Definitely.”  It was, to be sure, one of the most exciting moments of my life.  I’m not certain I would have been ready to handle an emergency situation at that early stage in my training; however, the goal of my instructor — on that very calm (no wind at all) and beautiful day — was to instill greater confidence and certainty in my skills and abilities.   

Given the same situation, if I had been the instructor, I don’t think I would have been as willing to turn that Tiger Moth — one of the sources of my income as the instructor — over to a brash and arrogant American 19-year-old! 

I remember it well.  The take-off went smoothly, and there was a wonderful sense of command and control knowing that I was in charge of this airplane.  I rose from the end of the runway out over the lush, uninhabited, green of the forests below, and once I leveled-off at about 500 feet off the ground, I banked into a comfortable left turn, and I could look down on the runway not far below.  I could even see my instructor standing and watching me.  I made a big arc, and I gave myself plenty of room as I made the final left bank to line myself up with the runway out ahead of me.  There was no center line because this was a very old, unused airstrip, so I just centered my plane as best I could and slowly began to push the yoke (or stick) away from me to lose altitude.   Fortunately, I was right on target gauging from the number of practice runs I had taken with the instructor, and as I came closer to the runway, I adjusted my flight altitude by pulling the yoke toward me to bring the nose up, up, and further up until I felt the wheels hit the runway.  It was a perfect landing, and I simply used the rudder to control my path down the runway, ever so slowly beginning to brake my speed until I came to a complete stop.  What a thrill that was. 

There was no computer screen, no auto-pilot, and no bells and whistles.  There was a great deal of control over everything that happened, and my confidence was rewarded. 

There really isn’t a great deal of risk in learning to fly.  It is, instead, depending on what you have learned, practicing the fundamentals, and relying on yourself — your knowledge, your experience, and your skills and abilities.  If you do what you know you will be successful. 

Learning how to fly — becoming independent — is much the same as learning how to fly.  Learn the fundamentals, gain as much experience as possible, then rely on yourself.  Many people say it requires a willingness to let go; however, I would contend that it requires use of all your resources.  Your instructor — just like your knowledge and experience — stay with you and, mentally, continue to provide suggestions and guidance.  You never “let go.”   If you have the commitment and the patience, you, too, can learn to fly. 

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At the Silver Express website, in an essay from the 1996 Flight Training magazine, “Twenty life lessons I learned from becoming a pilot,” Susan E. Paul said she learned patience, the need to keep a step ahead, how to communicate effective, clearly, and concisely, conserve and control your energy, be thorough and precise, relax, face your fears, take care of yourself physically and mentally, use all of your senses, know yourself, focus, practice and be proficient at the basics, be light at the controls, accept responsibility, know your priorities, follow through to the end, be courteous, persistent, flexible, and to keep it simple.  In the essay Paul discusses each of these elements.   

At the Lessons From the Cockpit website, Christopher Laney writes an essay, “White-Knuckle Living: How to Succeed by Letting Go,” (really just a post on his blog), where he talks about the lessons he learned from learning how to fly: 1) give yourself permission to make mistakes, 2) recognize that you know more than you think you know, and 3) let go (which is the best entry and includes five separate items that tend to hold people back).  Also, Laney has included 22 reader comments to his post. 

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Copyright September, 2010, by And Then Some Publishing, LLC.