Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 103

My 2022 Christmas haul

Every Christmas, I take inventory of the holiday gifts that my wife, Elysha, gives me.

Some people wish for cashmere sweaters, the latest gadget, stylish watches, and jewelry. My hope is often for the least pretentious, most unexpected, most nostalgic, quirkiest little gift possible, and Elysha never fails to deliver.

When it comes to gift-giving, Elysha is brilliant. More than the gifts themselves, her choices tell me that she knows me.

She sees me more clearly than any other person in my life.

For the past 12 years, I’ve been documenting that inventory of gifts that she has given me on Christmas because they are so damn good. Every year has been just as good as the last, if not better.

The 2009 Christmas haul included a signed edition of a Kurt Vonnegut novel.The 2010 Christmas haul included a key that I still use today.The 2011 Christmas haul included my often-used Mr. T in a Pocket.The 2012 Christmas haul included my fabulous No button.The 2013 Christmas haul included a remote-controlled helicopter.The 2014 Christmas haul included an “I Told You So” pad.The 2015 Christmas haul included schadenfreude mints: “As delicious as other people’s misery.”The 2016 haul featured a commissioned painting of the map of my childhood Boy Scout camp.The 2017 haul featured a commissioned painting of my grandparent’s farmhouse.The 2018 haul featured a Viewmaster Viewer with photos of the family.My 2019 haul featured a fantastic cord organizer (it says a lot about me that I loved it so much)My 2020 haul featured An artist’s rendering of all seven of my books, plus the books from which we derived our children’s names, the first gift Elysha ever gave me (a book), and a couple of my favorite books of all time.My 2021 haul featured a paddleboard, complete with a waterproof bluetooth speaker and waterproof iPhone case

This year was pretty fantastic.

The gifts included:

Monty Python post-it notesMy own Dundee AwardA stapler-in-jello button that fires off quotes from The Office each time it’s pressedA tiny, plastic door that makes the sound of a door slamming when slammedA universal charger cableReflectors for my bikeJerry Seinfeld’s “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee Book”Recess candy in shapes and sizes I’ve never tried beforeAn Airpod-like device, but it’s the size of a credit card (perfect for my wallet)

But best of all, she commissioned a Ukrainian artist to create an amazing piece of art that features the playbills from the seven Broadway shows we saw this past year, with Clara and Charlie in the center, recreated from an actual photo taken outside of Hamilton’s Richard Rodger’s Theater.

Once again, she’s somehow managed to outdo herself.

I hope you received gifts just as brilliant as these this holiday season.

 

Best email of the year

My first date with Elysha (though I didn’t know it was a date) was a hike up Mount Carmel in Hamden, CT. We climbed the mountain as friends, but halfway down, she reached out and took my hand, and she hasn’t let go since.

After the hike, we returned to my apartment, where we sat side by side on an uncomfortable futon and talked.

Real, meaningful stuff.

But amid this conversation, Elysha said, “The Simpsons are coming on at 6:00. Would you mind if we watched?”

I felt like the heavens had opened, and I could hear the angels singing.

I first watched The Simpsons as an 18-year-old while living in Attleboro, MA, with my friend, Bengi, in a home we affectionately referred to as The Heavy Metal Playhouse. For more than three years, we watched without missing an episode.

About a year ago, Charlie and I began watching The Simpsons when the show started streaming on Disney. Clara had no interest at the time, but recently, she’s started watching with us, which has made me extremely happy.

It made this email, sent by Clara to me, even more heartwarming:

“Dad! I have Kellapella after school today. Don’t watch The Simpsons without me!”

It’s so rare to have something present in your life for so many years.

The Simpsons is one of them for me, and I’m so very grateful for it.

Interview and repeat

This isn’t Homework for Life (which you should be doing), but it’s a close cousin.

Every year for the past six years, musician Billie Eilish has been interviewed by Vanity Fair and asked the same questions again and again. She’s also asked to watch and reflect upon her previous answers.

It’s a fascinating idea.

Eilish loves the process. She says the interviews mean so much to her and make her feel “hopeful and happy” She watches them often and is always learning from them.

Maybe we should all be doing this.

The Unpopular Opinion Game

Things Many People Love that I Do Not

PicklesWes Anderson filmsSteely DanThe Macy’s Thanksgiving Day ParadeCoffeeSoccerMayonaiseSleepAlcoholSushiShoppingReality television

Now share your list!

Outsourcing my 2023 goals

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you probably know that I take my goal-setting and New Year’s resolutions very seriously. Since 2010, I’ve posted my resolutions on my blog, and at the end of every month, I post my progress or lack thereof, and at the end of every year, I report on my successes and failures.

A few years ago, I came upon a piece in the Wall Street Journal on New Year’s resolutions that suggests that outsourcing your resolutions may improve your ability to achieve them.

Most of us could use help achieving our goals. Who better to tell us how to improve ourselves than someone who knows us well—perhaps better than we know ourselves—and even may be all too happy to offer up some tough love? And if we promise to check in regularly with this person to discuss our progress, we’ll probably do a much better job of keeping our resolutions.

“We all have blind spots, but the people we are intimate with can see through them,” says David Palmiter, a couples therapist and professor of psychology at Marywood University, in Scranton, Pa. A loved one can encourage us to meet our goals and hold us accountable when we slip, he says.

After reading this piece, I thought it might be a good idea to open up my goal selection process to anyone wanting to participate. Even if you don’t know me well (and even if you’ve never met me in person), perhaps you have an idea for a goal I should aspire to achieve.

Something you’ve accomplished in the past that might be right for me, too?
An opportunity that has never crossed my radar?
A challenge that you think I should accept?
Or perhaps you’ve gleaned one of my unseen or ignored flaws that you think is correctable?

If you’d like to suggest a goal for me in 2023, I would love to hear your ideas. Please note that this does not guarantee that I will adopt every proposed goal, but I will seriously consider all submitted.

Also note that all goals must be empirically measurable, so a goal like “Be less of a jerk face” cannot be included in my list of resolutions (even if it’s a valid suggestion) because there is no way for me to determine if the goal was met.

But you’re welcome to tell me to stop being a jerk face at any time if you’d like. No need to wait until the end of the year to make that request.

Please submit your suggestions by commenting on this post or emailing me at matthewdicks@gmail.com.

The stupidity of perfection

Lots and lots and lots of things prevent people from being creative, making things, and chasing their dreams, but of all the barriers holding us back (artificial, self-imposed, and genuine), I think this one – the foolish pursuit of perfection – is the most prevalent and most damaging.

The pursuit of perfection, the attachment of perfection to ego, the concern about what others might think about our failure to achieve perfection, and our belief that perfection is necessary are all disastrous to a happy, productive life.

The pursuit of perfection leads to stagnation and regret. For many people, pursuing perfection prevents them from taking a single step forward.

The sooner you can accept that perfection is a fool’s errand, people never care nearly as much as you think, and that imperfect, forward momentum is critical to a well-lived life, the sooner you will make your dreams come true.

It’s a hard lesson for many, but I suspect it’s also one of the most important lessons.

Make terrible stuff because terrible stuff is so much better than no stuff.

12 Truths About Teaching

Someone recently asked me, “Do you really love your students? All of them?”

So I went on a bit of a rant in answer to her question. When I was finished, I made a quick list of things I had said, which has since become this list:

12 Truths About Teaching 

I suspect they apply to many, if not most, teachers.

Especially those who spend seven hours a day with the same children for an entire year.
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1. I love your child, just a notch below my own children. Truly. And oddly, that love kicks in almost immediately, just like it did with my kids.

2. I will miss your child for the rest of my life, even if your child was incredibly difficult and made my days long and exhausting at times.

3. My primary goal as a teacher is to make my students happy about coming to school. Everything flows from a child’s love for school and their passion for learning.

4. You are so very wrong if you view our relationship as adversarial in any way.

5. I ask you to call me by my first name because I want to have the kind of relationship with you that requires first names. There is no need for artificial barriers between us. We are two adults who both love your child. Why would we not be on a first-name basis?

6. Some of my closest friends (and my child’s godparents) are former students’ parents. These relationships developed because we treated each other as partners in their child’s education. If you and I are doing our jobs well, we should be friendly, if not actual friends, by the end of the school year.

7. There is nothing wrong with questioning my decision. I only ask that you don’t question my intent. Know that I am always trying to do my best on behalf of your child and that despite my best intentions, mistakes will probably be made.

8. If I have done something that disappoints or upsets you, always come to me first. You can’t imagine how much it hurts a teacher to hear about your disappointment secondhand, either from an administrator or via the parent, teacher, or student rumor mill.

9. One of the most important lessons I have learned in my 24 years of teaching is the importance of following through. Always do what you say you will do, and never make a threat or promise that you cannot keep. This has given me a hard-earned reputation with students and allowed me to be as successful as I have been. It’s a lesson I have brought into parenting that has served me (and my children) well. It’s the one piece of parenting advice that I pass on to you.

10. Please know that both legally and ethically, there are times when I want to say something to you but cannot for many reasons, usually related to another student’s privacy. It’s frustrating for me, and I’m sure it is for you, but it’s also my professional responsibility.

11. A lower-than-desired grade on an assignment or report card is only my honest assessment of your child’s performance at that moment. It’s not an indictment of your parenting or an indication of your child’s potential. It’s probably just an indicator that there is still room for improvement.

12. I will wonder (and worry) about your child’s future for the rest of my life.

Hey, teacher! You made a dumb decision.

Every week, I introduce my students to a new musician or band. During the first 15 minutes of the day, as kids spill into the classroom and settle down, I play music and offer some history about the musician or band they are listening to.

So far this year, we’ve listened to The Beatles, Aretha Franklin, Hall and Oates, Springsteen, Ella Fitzgerald, Creedance Clearwater Revival, Elvis Presley, The Beach Boys, Joni Mitchell, Stevie Wonder, and more.

A few weeks ago, we listened to Pink Floyd, which turned out to be a huge mistake.

When the kids are annoyed with me, they now shout out in unison:

“Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone!”

It’s kind of great but also very annoying.

The present is everything and nothing

“The present is infinitesimally small. Just when you think you’re in it, you’re already in the past.” – Charlie Dicks

100 and counting!

On Tuesday night, I told a story in my 100th Moth StorySLAM.

I’ve actually attended 143 Moth StorySLAMs, but my name is not always pulled from that damn bag.

But on Tuesday night, it was pulled again for the 100th time.

100 performances in just over 11 years. About nine stories per year.

It’s been a remarkable ride.

51 performances in NYC
41 performances in Boston
6 virtual performances during the pandemic
1 performance in Seattle
1 performance in Washington, DC

I performed in my very first Moth StorySLAM on July 12, 2011, at the Nuyorican’s Poets Cafe in Manhattan. I was chosen as the tenth storyteller that night and told a story about pole vaulting in high school.

Somehow I managed to win.

Elysha was by my side that night.

I was fortunate enough to win again on Tuesday night – my 58th victory in all – and for just the third time from first position.

The storytelling gods were clearly smiling upon me for my 100th performance.

My friend, Jeff, was by my side this time.

But unlike that first StorySLAM, I had many friends in attendance on Tuesday night, too. Storytellers, audience regulars, the host and producer of the show, and even the sound engineer. All have become part of a tight-knit community of storytelling fans I adore.

I’ve also performed in 32 Moth GrandSLAM championships (another one on Monday!) and 6 Moth MainStage shows, but it’s the Moth StorySLAM – those open mic storytelling competitions that provide anyone with a stage, an audience, and a chance to shine – where I first made a name for myself and changed my life forever.

I said, “Yes,” back in 2011 when it was suggested that I go to New York City and tell a story. My original plan was to tell one story and check that item off my list, never to return again. Instead, I’ve taken that stage 100 times  – triple digits – and it’s still just as fun, exciting, and unforgettable as it was 11 years ago.

And it has truly changed my life in more ways than I could possibly count.

Lucky for me and all my fellow storytellers that The Moth is alive and well in this world, giving people with stories to share the perfect place to make it happen.

Maybe you could say, “Yes,” and be the next person to tell their first story onstage.