The Black Dot

 

I wrote something similar to this post back in 2017, entering my 41^st year in education. Much has happened to me and in life since that time. I’m now retired, only doing substitute work for counselors and administrators, but nothing day to day. And I’m writing like crazy. Book number 11, The Disappeared, is taking shape. 

Back then, when I first wrote on this topic, I saw it on Facebook. This morning, I saw something similar with similar results on TikTok. I felt compelled to write more on the topic, since it is too important not to. 

It goes 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 they had 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 Black Dot. You draw parallels to this. You come up with what The Black Dot might represent. But there isn’t conversation, or at least 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 Black Dot. The Black Dot consumes our thoughts, our energy, and our time. 

I have spent 49 years in education, and I say that proudly. There is no other profession I desired 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, having spent 72 years walking on this earth, I am 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. 

It was customary and expected that at the end of each year, I would 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 comes 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-nine years, I had a similar evaluation. And no matter how many superlatives (always hoping for 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 Black Dot. That one comment or two that is less than superlative, less than positive, something for each of us to work on. The Black 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 Black Dot. Always. 

We focus our thoughts, our energy, and invest our time and perhaps pay a portion of our soul to The Black 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 Black 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 Black 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 Black 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: 

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