Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 109

Female protagonists rule!

All of the ten best-selling novels of the previous decade featured female protagonists.

Every single one.

E.L. James, Fifty Shades of Grey (2011) – 15.2 million copiesE.L. James, Fifty Shades Darker (2011) – 10.4 million copiesE.L. James, Fifty Shades Freed (2012) – 9.3 million copiesSuzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (2008) – 8.7 million copiesKathryn Stockett, The Help (2009) – 8.7 million copiesPaula Hawkins, The Girl on The Train (2015) – 8.2 million copiesGillian Flynn, Gone Girl (2012) – 8.1 million copiesJohn Green, The Fault in Our Stars (2012) – 8 million copiesStieg Larsson, The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo (2008) – 7.9 million copiesVeronica Roth, Divergent (2011) – 6.6 million copies

Kind of amazing. Right?

It also tracks, I suppose. Men only account for about 20% of the fiction market. In the words of one bookseller, “Matt, don’t ever forget that you’re writing almost exclusively for women.”

I’ve written six novels so far.

Actually, I’ve written seven, but nobody wanted one of them, which was quite annoying.

Four of the six were published in the previous decade.

One was published in 2009 and the other in 2021.

Only one of those four books – “The Perfect Comeback of Caroline Jacobs” – features a female protagonist.

Maybe I should’ve listened more closely to that bookseller when choosing the sex of my protagonists.

The worst!

The strangest thing about micromanagers, I think, is that they almost never know that they are micromanagers and can never see the damage they cause on a daily basis.

This image captures this perfectly.

These supposed leaders spend their days stripping grown-ass adults of the most basic decision-making, imposing their will on the least important parts of an organization, and making the people around them deeply unhappy, yet they can’t seem to see the error of their ways.

These dummies work harder than necessary, but the result of their efforts is far worse than if they had simply stepped aside, taken a nap, and allowed others to do their job.

They are awful, deleterious, uninspiring leaders, but for some reason, they can’t see past their inane, obsessive need for control to find a better way.

They actually think they are doing the right thing.

I really don’t get it.

Psychological safety: A must know

I had the honor and pleasure of consulting with Trevor Ragan on this video, which I think should be watched by every teacher, manager, executive, and anyone else responsible for the supervision and well-being of another person.

It’s everything I believe.

It’s the reason I’ve found success in the classroom as an elementary school teacher. It’s the reason I was able to manage restaurants profitably at a very young age. And it’s at least in part why I’m able to work today as an in-demand consultant and coach in the business world.

I am not and was never especially gifted at any of these particular endeavors, but I understand, nurture, and relentlessly promote psychological safety. I didn’t know this belief system had a name, and I don’t know nearly enough about it before learning about Amy Edmondson and studying her research, but it has always been fundamental to how I teach and lead people.

I haven’t been using it consistently or nearly well enough, and I still have so much to learn, but had you asked me about my philosophy of teaching and management (because the two are inextricably intertwined), my response would’ve sounded a hell of a lot like psychological safety.

f you’re teaching or leading people – little or big, young or old – you should watch and learn, too.

Impossible choices

Choose only one?

I choose none. Every one of these homes has at least one major problem, and some sound downright awful.

If I was forced to choose one, I’d grudgingly choose House 6, but I certainly don’t want a hot tub. I have never felt one iota of desire to take a bath, and especially not an extra-long bath.

Lunch special

Almost every day of the workweek, my lunch is the same:

A bowl of oatmeal.

Boring? Maybe.

Quick and satisfying? Absolutely.

Lowered my cholesterol by almost 50 points over the course of a year? Yup!

But when I have a field trip, the daily bowl of oatmeal is tossed aside for something far more adventurous.

On Tuesday, this meant:

A turkey and cheese sandwich on wheatGrapesA handful of Hersey kissesA sleeve of Pez

Foods chosen because they make me happy but also because they made me the envy of my students.

In the words of one kid:

“It’s the Pez that offends me the most. It’s way over the top.”

Lauding something over children who routinely pester me is indescribably satisfying.

Best unexpected gifts

I made a list of the best, most unexpected gifts that I have ever received. These are things offered to me that changed my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

They also serve as an excellent reminder to me:

You need not spend a penny to offer someone a present that is invaluable, unforgettable, and forever loved.

Laura Marchand: Belief in my future

Laura, my high school girlfriend, was the first person to tell me that I should think about going to college someday. No parent, teacher, or guidance counselor ever spoke the word “college” to me, so my assumption was that college was beyond my reach. Laura was the first person to put the idea in my head and convince me that I might be more than capable of doing well on a college campus.

Laura was also the first person to read my writing and tell me that it was good.

Both of those gifts changed my life.

Jeff “Coog” Coger: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Coog convinced me to watch “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” after I had watched one episode and arbitrarily deemed it stupid. He wouldn’t stop telling me how much I would like the show, so I finally decided to give it a chance. Halfway through that second episode, I realized, “Oh, it’s funny. It’s also drop-dead serious, but it’s funny, too.”

I was hooked.

I watched all seven seasons (back when doing so wasn’t as easy as it is today), and when Elysha and I began dating, I watched all seven seasons again after convincing her to give it a try. Watching “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” with Elysha, early in our relationship, is a happy memory for me that has yielded nearly two decades of Buffy conversation, references, and inside jokes between us.

I hope to be watching the series one more time with my children soon.

James “Bengi” Bengiovanni: A roof over my head and audiobooks

When I didn’t have anywhere to live after high school and knowing that I was expected to move out of my childhood home, Bengi appeared – seemingly out of nowhere – and asked me to move in with him. He was attending college at the time but hated dorm life, so he needed a place to live off campus and a roommate.

So one night, while sitting in the cab of a bulldozer on a construction site in Milford, Massachusetts that would eventually become a Stop & Shop, Bengi outlined his plan for us to live together.

He had no idea how overwhelmed with gratitude and relief I was as he spoke.

In so many ways, he saved me that night.

Bengi also convinced me to stop being a book snob and give audiobooks a try almost 30 years ago. Today, I consume more than half of my books via audiobook, and I’ve recorded two audiobooks of my own.

Mary and Gerry Coughlin: A roof over my head

When I became homeless after having been arrested for a crime I did not commit, Mary and Gerry Coughlin saved me by offering me a roof over my head. I had begun to lose hope that I would ever extract myself from the streets, but Mary and Gerry’s kindness, generosity, and willingness to see me and my struggle saved me in the same way that Bengi had saved me four years earlier.

Elysha Dicks: Unwavering support and David Golder

Elysha has introduced me to many people over the years, and most have been lovely people, but one – David Golder – has been a real treasure. Elysha went to high school with David’s wife and were still friends, so she invited the two of them to the debut of a rock opera that I had written and produced with my friend, Andy Mayo.

David and I became fast friends and remain so today.

Elysha has also offered me unwavering support over the years, which sounds pedestrian given that she is my wife, but I am not the easiest person with whom to hitch your wagon. I say things that others don’t love. I place myself in the occasional precarious position. I have legitimate enemies, and at least a few of them have wanted to (and sometimes attempted to) destroy my life. I’m rarely satisfied and constantly, relentlessly pushing forward, expanding our lives and complicating the calendar.

It’s not always bad, but I’m sure it’s not easy.

Yet Elysha has never complained once. Never questioned my decision to climb out onto a limb. Never admonished me for expressing opinions and ideas that others might find less than ideal. Never encouraged me to conform to the expectations of others.

I find all of that incredible. Indescribably heartwarming. Mildly astounding. Probably the best gift I’ve ever received.

6 moral absurdities

I’m sure I’ll collect more over time, but here are a half dozen moral absurdities that currently infuriate me:

Men can walk around in public topless, but women cannot (though it’s perfectly legal in some less absurd cities, including New York City, South Beach, Miami, Fort Collins, Colorado, and Madison, Wisconsin).I can say “poop” whenever I want, but I can’t always say certain synonyms for poop without potentially offending others.People can be paid to have sex with strangers in the production of pornography, but prostitution remains illegal.I can’t extend my own middle finger unless accompanied by other fingers without being deemed offensive by many people.Marijuana is recreationally legal in some states, but in those same states, people remain incarcerated for possession and use of marijuana prior to its legalization.We continue to execute people in America even though we know that since 1973, at least 190 people who had been wrongly convicted and sentenced to death in the United States have been exonerated, and we have almost certainly executed innocent people.

First Pop-Tart

During our recent camping trip, as Charlie and I hunkered down in the tent, preparing to sleep, I proposed that we enjoy a late-night snack:

Pop-Tarts.

Charlie had never eaten a Pop-Tart before.

I know. As his father, I’ve really let him down. So I was making up for lost time.

I removed two frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts from the wrapper and handed him one. “You’re going to love it,” I said.

He took a bite, then another, and then another. “So it’s like a cracker,” he said, smiling. “With fruit filling and frosting.”

I couldn’t believe that he had reduced something that I love dearly to such base descriptors.

A Pop Tart is resplendent. Culinary perfection. A snack of the highest order.

Despite his insolence, I didn’t criticize Charlie’s description. I was simply happy that he enjoyed it. I explained that there is also a cherry-flavored  Pop-Tart, which is equally delicious, and blueberry and raspberry flavors, which are not nearly as good but still yummy.

I also warned him about some of the Pop-Tart pretenders:

Flavors such as brown sugar cinnamon, chocolate fudge, and peach cobbler.

Pop-Tarts trying too damn hard to be tasty.

I didn’t warn him about some of the more bizarre Pop-Tart flavors. Unspeakable, radioactive creations like:

Eggo Frosted MapleFrosted Boston Creme DonutFrosted Confetti CupcakePretzel Cinnamon Sugar

Who do people try so often to ruin a good thing?

I also told him that many of these flavors are also offered in the unfrosted variety, which is simply insane.

I can’t remember eating my first Pop-Tart, but I’ll always remember Charlie’s first:

Sitting in a tent, late at night, dropping crumbs on our sleeping bags as we cracked Simpsons jokes and reminisced about the day.

I hope he will, too.

 

One small change changed everything

I am constantly arguing in favor of small changes, given enough time, yielding profound results.

No magic pills. No overnight successes.

Just thoughtful, proactive, manageable changes that can alter the course of your life forever.

Nothing illustrates this concept better than this remarkable video.

Return of the Pastafarian

A former student stuck this drawing to the window of my classroom, and it filled me with joy.

It’s so full of inside jokes.

First is the inclusion of the word “Bully.”

This was his name for me during the year we spent together. Every time I pressed him to work harder and better, he’d accuse me of bullying him, going so far as reporting me to the principal for my wicked ways, so before long, “Bully” became the name he used for me.

“Papa Smurf” was the nickname I assigned to him (tragically spelled wrong on this paper) after he expressed a fondness for The Smurfs one day. Not exactly creative, but sometimes a nickname sticks.

This time, it did.

The reference to Pastafarians and the Flying Spaghetti Monster comes from a discussion on religion. While talking about how different people believe in different things, he asked if religions are just “silliness” invented by people who wanted to take other people’s money, control their lives, and feel less frightened about death.

Insightful boy.

I said yes, at least in some cases, and informed him about The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, a satirical religion first born in 2006 in opposition to the notion of intelligent design.

Essentially, the religion is based upon the idea that if you’re going to believe in something as ridiculous as an all-powerful God who designed the universe, why not believe in something equally ridiculous, like a Flying Spaghetti Monster?

Both are equally silly and therefore just as likely to be real.

The Church of the Flying Spateggti Monster began as an intellectual bit of satire, but today, it’s a religion that some people claim as their own.

I also happen to own a copy of “The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster,” which he found fascinating.

So for the rest of the school year, he declared himself a Pastafarian (a follower of the Flying Spaghetti Monster) and would crack jokes about the Spaghetti Monster whenever possible.

The picture on the page is his interpretation of me, of course. In addition to “Bully,” he would also call me “Big Brain” and one day came up with this drawing to represent me.

Not exactly the most flattering image of me that I’ve ever seen, but sadly, still better and kinder than many student drawings of me.

Teaching is a tough business. You spend a year of your life with a group of kids, loving them nearly as much as you love your own children, but then they leave you, sometimes never to be seen again.

It’s heartbreaking.

But sometimes they come back and visit. Occasionally they will remain in your life long after you’ve finished teaching them. Sometimes they even grow into adulthood and become your friend.

And sometimes you find something like this affixed to the window of your classroom, from a kid you haven’t seen in a long time, and your heart soars knowing they are still thinking about you, but probably not nearly as often as you think about them.