I saw this
posted on Facebook and it struck me as truth. It went like this . . .
On the first day
of class, a professor went to an overhead projector and placed a piece of white
paper on it. The paper also had a black dot. The students were to write or speak
about what it was they observed. No other explanation or direction. Just to
write or speak about what it was they observed.
I would like you
to stop reading this post and try it for yourself. I’ll wait . . .
You can either
do this exercise yourself or ask someone else to speak or write about what they
observe.
Chances are you
speak more about The Dot. You draw parallels to this. You come up with what The
Dot might represent. But all in all, there is very little conversation, very
little comment on the white part of the sheet of paper. Almost none, if any.
Hmmm . . .
Human nature, I
guess. The way our minds work. We tend to look more closely at the speck, the
smallest portion of the white sheet of paper, The Dot. The Dot consumes our thoughts,
our energy, and our time.
I’m heading into
my 41st year in education and I say that proudly. There is no other
profession I desire to be a part of. There are no other professionals I’d
rather rub elbows with. I love the kids. I love the challenges. I love the
goofiness of youth (and my own, I dare say). I also know I’m on the backside of
that mountain and the thought saddens me. I don’t fear it, no, not really. It’s
just that I love what I do and with whom I do it with.
At the end of
each year, I evaluate portions of my staff. These evaluations are based upon
observations, conversations, phone calls- you name it. And each year, the
portion of my staff I am responsible for come to my office for our
conversation. And it doesn’t matter how gently I word something. It doesn’t matter
how many superlatives I pack into the evaluation. I recognize that those who
visit with me at the end of the year are anxious, if not scared.
And I am no less
anxious and no less scared, because each year for forty years, and one more at
the end of this year, I will have an evaluation. And no matter how many
superlatives (hopefully there will be one or two) my supervisor packs into my
evaluation, my teachers who see me, and I with my supervisor, share the same feeling.
We will focus on
The Dot. That one comment or two that is less than superlative, less than
positive, something for each of us to work on. The Dot. The smallest part, the
speck on the white sheet of paper, and that will be their . . . and my . . .
focus as they, and I, get up to leave the end of year conversation. Always The
Dot. Always.
We focus our thoughts, our energy, and invest
our time and perhaps pay a portion of our soul to The Dot, the smallest part,
the most insignificant portion of our lives.
The wrong
someone did to us. The real or imagined affront. The careless word. The
thoughtless action.
Sometimes The
Dot represents something we did or said, something we didn’t do or didn’t say
long ago. Time has passed. There have been so many other positive memories.
There have been so many wonderful people who have entered, and sometimes left,
our lives. Yet, we spend an inordinate amount of time on The Dot of long ago .
. . or recently ago . . . and fail to recognize that we are not that person we
once were. And neither is that person who might have wronged us.
We fail to
realize that each morning we receive a gift. The gift of a Do Over (a former
post). And we fail to realize that each evening we receive another gift. The
gift of Reflection where we can examine what we’ve done and how we did it and
resolve to try again. To do better.
So perhaps, it
is better to only glance at The Dot and spend more time on the whole other
portion. To recognize that we have done good, that we’ve done well, that we
will do good. And recognize that mistakes happen because we’re only human. It’s
in our DNA. And, what is a mistake exactly, but an opportunity to pick
ourselves up, to strive to do better next time, and smile while we do it. I’d
rather that than stress, and worry, and be anxious. Really. I think we all
might rather that. Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life,
and Make A Difference!
To My Readers:
I finished my
fifth work of thriller/suspense fiction,
Caught in a Web and I’ll keep you
posted as to when it will be published. While we wait, I am busy having fun
with my sixth, Spiral Into Darkness,
and I’m more than 59,000 words and 251 pages into it.
Please feel free
to connect with me at:
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at @jrlewisauthor
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If you like Thriller/Suspense fiction, check out my
novels:
Available on Amazon for .99 the Lives Trilogy
Prequel, Taking Lives:
FBI Agent Pete
Kelliher and his partner search for the clues behind the bodies of six boys
left in various and remote parts of the country. Even though they don’t know
one another, the lives of FBI Agent Kelliher and two boys become interwoven
with the same thread that Pete Kelliher holds in his hand. The three of them
are on a collision course and when that happens, their lives are in jeopardy as
each search for a way out. http://bit.ly/Taking-Lives-JLewis
Stolen Lives, Book One of the Lives Trilogy:
Two thirteen
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FBI agents have 24 hours to find them or they’ll end up like all the others-
dead! They have no leads, no clues, and nothing to go on. And the possibility
exists that one of his team members might be involved. http://bit.ly/Stolen-Lives-JLewis
Shattered
Lives, Book Two of the Lives Trilogy:
A 14 year old
boy stands in the kitchen pointing a gun at his uncle. There are many reasons
for him to pull the trigger. Mainly, he had started it all. http://bit.ly/Shattered-Lives-J-Lewis
Splintered Lives, Book Three of the Lives Trilogy:
A 14 year old
boy is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. High up on an Arizona mesa, he
faces three desperate and dangerous men in hopes of saving his father and his
brothers. http://bit.ly/Splintered-Lives-J-Lewis
This is a most interesting observation. Something like the forest and the trees, isn't it. Think of all we miss in life when we are held prisoners within the dot! Thank you, Joe!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Dan. I think we do this more often than not. And yes, it is quite like the forest and the trees.
ReplyDelete