Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 166

Let us never forget how we arrived at this moment

One month ago today, against the advice and counsel of scientists, doctors, and public policy experts, Trump said, "When you have 15 people, and the 15 within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero, that’s a pretty good job we’ve done."

As of this morning, the United States has 81,782 confirmed cases of COVID-19. More total cases than any country in the world.

So Trump was off by a little, and not because any expert led him astray. He simply didn’t want to accept reality, nor did he want to warn the American people or prepare us for the coming pandemic.

Avoiding COVID-19 would've been impossible. But things would be far better today had we prepared properly. Stockpiled and distributed personal protective gear for doctors and nurses beginning in January. Increased production of necessary supplies well ahead of the virus. Begun testing immediately, using the approved and effective WHO test rather than waiting for the CDC to produce a test. Instituting social distancing practices more than a month ago.

Had we done these things and many more, America would be a very different place today.

Instead...

Two years ago, Trump fired his pandemic response team and did not replace them.

More than two months ago, Trump ignored repeated and desperate warnings from United States intelligence agencies about the coming pandemic and rejected their advice for immediate action.

Instead, Trump repeatedly referred to the coronavirus as "a hoax." In March, he referred to it as a hoax.

Just sixteen days ago, Trump said, “They’re trying to scare everybody, from meetings, cancel the meetings, close the schools — you know, destroy the country. And that’s ok, as long as we can win the election.”

These are facts that cannot be forgotten when we go to the polls in November.

Above all things, a President is responsible for the safety and security of the America people. Trump has failed at every step.

Just three weeks ago, Trump refused to allow Americans to disembark from a cruise ship because, in his own words, “I like the (COVID-19) numbers being where they are. I don't need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn't our fault. And it wasn't the fault of the people on the ship either, okay? It wasn't their fault either and they're mostly Americans. So, I can live either way with it. I'd rather have them stay on, personally.”

Numbers ahead of lives. That is how Trump has operated every step of the way.

Thankfully, we have plenty of video evidence of Trump’s incompetent, irresponsible, and immoral inaction.

Let us not forget his words and actions in the coming months.

The Office brings me light on dark days

I’m a very fortunate person. I’m married to a clever, funny, beautiful woman. We have two uncharacteristically well-behaved children. I have a remarkable group of friends.

I’ve been teaching elementary school for 21 years in the same great school, and in the same classroom for almost all of that time. I’ve also been fortunate enough to launch a successful writing and performing career.

My dreams have truly come true.

I might be the luckiest person I know Having once been poor, homeless, and jailed, I try to cherish every day.

Still, there are days when life does not cooperate.

My dog passes away. My garage roof leaks. My friend is diagnosed with cancer. My former boss turns out to be a sexual harassing scumbag. Some punk at school bullies my daughter. The Patriots lose a playoff game. My son discovers the Power Rangers. A highly contagious virus spreads around the world, unchecked by an incompetent President who ignores intelligence assessments and calls it a hoax.

On those days, I sometimes turn to the television show The Office, not for entertainment, but for the comfort of friends.

I love The Office because I love the people of The Office. Not the actors who play those characters, and not the characters themselves, because they ceased being characters to me a long time ago. I know on some basic, cognitive level that Dwight is Rainn Wilsom and Pam is Jenna Fischer and Creed is Creed, but in my heart and in that place in my mind where suspension of disbelief reigns supreme, these are real people.

Honest to goodness human beings, and I love every one of them.

When The Office was first airing on television, I lived and died by the machinations of Jim and Pam’s romance, perhaps because at the time, I also had a crush on a woman at work who was also engaged to another man. I connected with Jim as deeply as I’ve ever connected with another human being. Watching him fight for the love of Pam was like watching echoes of the fight I waged for the woman I love. 

Happily, love won. Jim and Pam were married.

I won, too. Like Jim, I got the girl.

On those very rare mornings when I rise and can’t find the spark that so often infuses my heart, I turn to YouTube and watch Jim and Pam get married again, and it makes every day brighter.

I have watched that wedding ceremony no less than 100 times. I have noticed the infinitesimal details in that sequence that can only be seen after more than 100 viewings:

The glasses-wearing man sitting in on the groom’s side of the pews, enjoying the proceedings more than anyone in the church.

Who is that man? I love that man.   

The cars passing by the church during the musical sequence, leading me to wonder if the producers purposefully placed this traffic or if honest-to-goodness folks were driving past the church while you filmed?

The Canadian flag flying on the Maid of the Mist, leading me to wonder if Jim and Pam were married in Canada or the US, and if Canada, did they obtain a Canadian marriage license?

Probably not.

If it’s an especially bad day, I might instead turn to the cold open lip dub or a YouTube clip of Jim’s greatest pranks or the scene at the end of the series that simultaneously broke my heart and made it soar.  

Spending a little time with these people so often turns my day around.

Since watching the show as it aired live, I’ve watched it from beginning to end many more times. Last year I discovered the deleted scenes on YouTube and watched them in order, relishing in new, partial seasons of The Office.

More time with my friends.

Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey now have the Office Ladies podcast, and as they discuss each episode, I’m re-watching it again, following along as they do.

I’ll suspect always be watching The Office in one way or another. When my kids are old enough, I’ll watch it with them, too. Constantly moving toward that final episode, and those final moments, when the people I love say the things I love most.

Creed, speaking to the young man in me who was once homeless and wondering if he’d ever have another roof over his head:

“No matter how you get there or where you end up, human beings have this miraculous gift to make that place home.”

I hope that Creed knows much truth is contained in those simple words.

Jim, speaking to the storyteller and relentless chronicler of life that I have become:

“Imagine going back and watching a tape of your life. You could see yourself change and make mistakes…and grow up. You could watch yourself fall in love, watch yourself become a husband, become a father. You guys gave that to me. And that’s…an amazing gift.”

I try to give myself this gift every single day.

Then there is Andy, speaking to my heart, making me think about my mom, who passed away far too young, and my daughter, now eleven, whose diapers I once changed at the end of the table from where I write these words. Reminding me of the people with whom I once shared a workplace – Jeff, Tom, Plato, Rob, Amy, Andy, Donna, Elysha, and so many more – all moving onto bigger, brighter things, leaving me behind:

“I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”

My Office friends make me cry every time I watch this final episode. I miss my friends. I miss knowing what is happening in their lives today.

The Office makes me laugh every day, but laughter is cheap. It’s fleeting and not so hard. Tenuous at best. These funny, beautiful, crazy, wonderful people live in my heart and mind. The show is brilliant because it is populated by real people living real lives and allowing me to step into their lives from time to time.  

Honestly, I don’t even need to watch The Office anymore to find the joy that they offer. Just thinking about Jim or Pam or Dwight is enough to make me smile.

Proud to be a teacher everyday, but in this time, especially

I am so impressed with my colleagues today.

The teachers, principals, and superintendents who have worked at a record pace to develop and deliver curriculum and instruction to children across America.

For every second of our careers, we have delivered curriculum and instruction to children in a classroom, using skills and pedagogy honed through years of schooling, training, and practice. Then, in just three days in my children’s school district and just five days in my own school district, curriculum was developed and written, online resources were identified and vetted, and instructional plans were integrated across 13 grade levels.

Instructional plans for typical students and specialized plans for each and every one of our students who require unique accommodations. Librarians, school psychologists, social workers, reading specialist, and more have join the fight, ensuring that children’s needs are met despite the distance between us.

Teachers have also needed to learn to use tools never seen before. We are conducting classes through Google Meets. Meeting with students individually via Zoom, Skype, FaceTime, and others platforms. Yesterday, during a series of eleven meetings with students and their families, I was switching between five different platforms and providing IT assistance to families on those platforms.

I’ve been using digital conferencing for years in my consulting and coaching businesses, but for many teachers, all this is new.

One teacher asked me, “What exactly is Skype?”

Teachers are also learning the best ways to record lessons, including software, editing, and even lighting.

Most important, teachers have taken on the gargantuan role of balancing content with care. We want our students to continue learning in this highly imperfect model, but we also want to reduce the stress and anxiety in our students. Ensure that they feel safe and happy in every way possible.

If they need to learn to divide fractions next year instead of this year, that is fine. But the trauma that kids could potentially be suffering and could be contributed to through the pressure and stress of school work could last a lifetime. This is in the forefront of every educator’s mind. When we call our families, our first thoughts are for the wellbeing of our students. We ask them questions to ascertain their mental health. We check to see if they are exercising. Eating well. Sleeping well. Remaining connected to friends. Being kind and patient with parents and siblings.

All of this and so much more.

Remember that scene from Apollo 13 when the engineers are asked to make a square peg fit into a round hole?

An engineer tosses a box of random junk on a table and says,

“Okay, people. Listen up. The people upstairs handed us this one and we gotta come through. We gotta find a way to make this... fit into the hole for this... using nothing but that.”

That is what educators are doing today. In almost no time.

It requires skill, flexibility, and endless hours. Elysha and I worked well past 11:00 PM on the first two days of this teaching, finding time to eat, check in on our kids, and go for a walk, but otherwise we were working. Reviewing and prepping and recording and planning. Talking to kids and families. Assisting other teachers.

Every teacher who I know is working tirelessly. Working at home sounds lovely until you realize that is simply means working constantly.

The couch is far less appealing as you approach hour 14 of your work day.

Don’t get me wrong. As teachers, we know how fortunate we are to be able to work. I know many people who cannot work from home and are suffering,

As teachers, we also feel honored to be able to contribute in this way to the lives of children and their families. Meeting children’s needs and providing a good education is what we want to do. Finding a way to do it while socially distant from our students has been a blessing to us all.

We are the lucky ones.

Still, I am so damn proud of my colleagues today. The work they have done to launch this new way of learning is astounding.

If you have a moment to offer words of encouragement to a teacher today, please do.

In the midst of all of this work, they are also dealing with all of the fear and anxiety that the rest of America is facing. We are trying to keep our own children safe, happy, and engaged. Trying to ensure that there is food and toilet paper in our homes. Worrying about aging parents and immunocompromised loved ones. Supporting friends and family who have lost their jobs. Watching the failures of the federal government to provide basic necessities like masks, gloves, and gowns to our medical personnel. Trying to contain the rage we feel over the idea that less than a month ago, the President was referring to the coronavirus as “a hoax.” Wondering about the future of our country.

We are lucky, to be sure. Certainly not heroes. We are not the doctors and nurses who are waging a war against this virus everyday at great personal risk. We are not the grocery store workers, truckers, pharmacists, first responders, plumbers, electricians, and others who go to work everyday, uncertain about their own safety but necessary for our country to continue to function.

These folks deserve gratitude beyond measure.

But I can’t tell you how proud I am of my colleagues today for all that they have done to help keep kids safe, happy, and engaged.

I salute them too. The days are long. The workload is immense. The concern we have for each of our students is never ending.

But this is our job, and my colleagues have proven themselves more than capable of taking on this challenge.

I'm so very proud to be working alongside them, albeit distantly, today.

You exist because of 15 cents

Charlie was counting coins yesterday as part of a his math lesson. I was helping out a little.

Nickels and quarters can look alike to a little boy.

As he worked through the various combinations, he landed upon 15 cents. “Look, Dad. Two ways to make 15 cents.”

He was right. Two ways to make 15 cents unless you’re using pennies, but we should’ve eliminated pennies a long time ago. They cost more than a penny to manufacture and are becoming more and more obsolete by the day.

Bur what I really I wanted to tell Charlie is this:

You only exist because of 15 cents.

Back in 1987, I was ready to find my first real job. There were plenty of opportunities. Stores, restaurants, and the like were all hiring in my town and neighboring towns, but my friend, Danny Pollock, had heard that the McDonald’s restaurant in the town of Milford was paying 15 cents over minimum wage.

Milford was about 10 miles north of my hometown of Blackstone, MA. About 20 minutes away. A foolish decision in retrospect., Not only did that mean a 20 minute commute to work after school and in the summer, but that 15 cents per hour would quickly be spent in the gas required to get there.

It was also during one of those Milford to Blackstone commutes that I would nearly die in a head-on collision.

Lots of reasons not to go north for work.

But north we went, and Danny and I were hired on the spot after an interview in the side lobby with a store manager named Diane Frotten. It turned out that McDonald’s was paying $4.65, a full dollar over minimum wage, as most businesses were doing at the time.

The economy was good, and there were plenty of jobs to be had. Businesses had to pay more or risk being understaffed.

Danny quit after a short time and went to work washing dishes across the street at a full service restaurant, but I remained. I quickly rose to manager during my junior year in high school and worked at McDonald’s for more than a decade, leaving McDonald’s only when I arrested, jailed, homeless, and working for a short time in a bank.

Brief interruptions in what amounted to a significant portion of my life.

Eight McDonald’s restaurants in all spanning three states.

Most important, I met Bengi at that first McDonald’s.

I met Bengi on a Saturday morning. We bonded over our ability to sing the Disney’s Adventures of the Gummi Bears animated series theme song word-for-word (which I can still do today - both verses).

Bengi would become my best friend. When I was kicked out of my home following high school, Bengi and I lived together in a townhouse in Attleboro, MA. Bengi attended Bryant University. I worked like a dog.

We were both very poor. Happy but poor.

When Bengi graduated, he moved to Connecticut. I was delayed in joining him by 18 months thanks to my arrest, jail, homelessness, and trial for a crime I did not commit. But once I was found not guilty, Bengi introduced me to a girl in Connecticut, and shortly thereafter, I moved here permanently.

Had I not driven north in search of 15 extra cents per hour, I would’ve never met Bengi.

Had I not met Bengi, I never would’ve moved to Connecticut. Never would’ve attended school here. Never would’ve been hired to work at Wolcott School in West Hartford, CT, where I have been for 22 years.

Had I not been hired to work at Wolcott, I never would’ve met Elysha in the fall of 2002. Never would’ve fallen in love with her. Never would’ve married her.

Clara and Charlie exist because of the promise of 15 cents.

It’s incredible how so much of our lives, and the lives of others, hinge on such infinitesimal moments in our lives.

It’s a little frightening, too. With a tiny nudge in one direction or another, my life would be entirely different today. My children would not exist.

It’s hard to fathom how enormous a role 15 cents has made in my life.

Thank goodness it did.

I’m not William Shakespeare or Issac Newton, but I still managed to discover something important

Over the last week, no fewer than two dozen friends, readers, and followers have sent me messages letting me know that when Shakespeare was quarantined because of the plague, he wrote King Lear and possibly Macbeth and Antony and Cleopatra.

A handful of friends and readers have also told me that when Issac Newton was forced into quarantine because of the plague, he developed his theory of colors, invented differential and integral calculus, and conceived of the idea of universal gravitation.

Seriously, people? I make an ambitious list of goals, and you throw Shakespeare and Newton at me?

I don’t need that kind of pressure.

All of this was information was provided to me in response to a list of goals I had posted last Monday - seven days ago that now feel like seven moths ago now - back when we were theoretically going to be home for just two weeks.

Never did I think that this social distancing would last just two weeks, but I decided to plan for two weeks, hoping that I would be wrong.

Sadly I was not. Not only will this period of social distancing and quarantine last far longer, but our two week “vacation” almost instantly transformed into at-home learning, so I spent most of the week preparing to teach my students.

My own children started at-home learning on Thursday. We begin today.

I must say:

My school district has done a remarkable job in an infinitesimal amount of time preparing their teachers and curriculum for school this week. I worked more hours last week from home than I have ever worked as a teacher in school.

As a result, my list of goals has changed significantly. The time that I intended to dedicate to accomplishing a long list of goals was quickly given over to planning for my week of at-home school:

Online meetings. Experimenting with various video platforms. Reviewing, expanding, and differentiating curriculum. Contacting families. Establishing schedules. Partnering with colleagues.

One million text messages.

However, even through all of this, I managed to get some of my goals accomplished in my first week.

My plan to write an entire book in just two weeks was instantly doomed. Way too much time has been given over to teaching, but I managed to write three chapters and intend in finishing the book by the time this pandemic has come under control.

We’ve watched six of the Marvel movies so far (including The Avengers, which has an iconic moment that I will be writing about at some point in the future), and we’re enjoying them very much. We’re watching the movies in the proper order except for The Hulk, which is not yet available on the Disney streaming service.

I heard it wasn’t great.

Iron Man 3 wasn’t great either, but the rest were outstanding.

We will most definitely finish my goal of watching all of the movies by the time this pandemic has ended.

I also managed to clean out the garage. The removal of some items is still required, but it looks like a functioning garage again. The job should be completed this week.

We’ve played lots of board games, but we have yet to play every board game we own. Still, it won’t be hard to go through all of them in the time we will be spending at home.

I’ve read or listened to four books so far, already doubling my goal of two. Neil Patrick Harris’s memoir, written in the second person as a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book, was especially entertaining.

We’ve made good progress in washing and folding all of the laundry in the house. The pile of bags of old clothing that were recovered from recent closet cleanings is diminishing fast.

I have yet to do better than a 6 minute plank. A 10 minute plank seems impossible, but I have a lot of time to work on it.

I’ve written 8 of the 25 letters that I originally planned to write.

I started offering free storytelling workshops for kids on Facebook Live and saving those recordings on my YouTube channel, doubling my goal of adding two new videos on my channel.

I haven’t ridden my bike with my kids yet, but unable to workout at the gym, I’ve ridden my own bike about 10-15 miles a day. It’s been a glorious rediscovering of something I loved as a kid.

That’s it. There’s still a lot that hasn’t been accomplished yet, including the following:

Begin writing a musical with my partner, Kaia.

Record two Speak Up Storytelling podcasts, bonus content for our Patreon account, plus the final episode of my Twenty-one Truths About Love podcast.

Explore the possible avenues for producing my storytelling instruction for an online platform.

Go through the children’s toy bins at night while they are asleep and throw away or donate old toys that they no longer play with or even know exist. Don’t tell them.

If it’s even close to warm enough, play a round of golf.

All of this is fine, of course. The world is shifting rapidly, so expectations must change as we learn to adjust to this new, temporary way of working and living.

But the overall goal remains the same:

Use this time wisely. Even though I’m teaching again, and it probably means working many more hours now than I normally would, there is still a lot of time to reclaim during these pandemic days:

The time when I would’ve been performing and speaking and consulting and schlepping the kids and more.

I want to be sure that I use the time well. And while I still plan on being productive in the traditional sense of that word, tackling my life and my yearly goals, I’ve discovered something even more important this week:

I want this to be a time that I spend with family. I want to look back at this strange time in our lives and think about all time I spent with Elysha and the kids. All the walking and playing and scootering and wrestling that we did. The hikes we took and the evenings spent snuggled on the couch.

A silver lining in a world filled with suffering.

Family. My most important goal. It only took a week spent solely with my family to realize that this is the best possible goal for me.

Find a way to say thank you

Let us remember that in this time of pandemic, when our leaders in Washington failing to take the actions necessary to keep us safe, it’s the grocery store employees, pharmacists, gas station attendants, mail carriers, first responders, delivery drivers, and anyone working in a hospital or medical staff are honest-to-goodness heroes right now.

Anyone who continues to leave their home to do the work that must be done.

Let us honor them anyway we can.

For me, this has meant writing letters to the employees of the two grocery stories and the pharmacy where I have shopped over the past two days, thanking the employees for continuing to stock shelves, unload trucks, and assist customers in these uncertain times.

It has meant writing a letter to the librarians who are still working at our public library, creating a system by which they will collect the books that patrons request so that you can drive by and pick them up without ever exiting your car.

It has meant thanking every grocery store employee personally and from a very safe distance while shopping.

Yesterday, I was submitting medical bills to my insurance company’s claims department, but before sealing the envelope with the receipts and forms, I wrote short notes to each of the people who would be processing my claim, thanking them for the work they do and hoping they are safe and well.

If you can find a way to thank a nurse or a police officer or a delivery driver for their service, please do.

If you can find a way of letting a gas station attendant, a doctor, or the custodian who is keeping the hospital clean that they are heroes, please do.

We certainly have the time. And don’t wait to find it. Make it. These folks deserve all the gratitude that we can muster.

If you need some inspiration, this has been very helpful to me in recent days. It’s admittedly made my cry at times, but it also steels me with resolve and reminds me that as uncertain and frightening as the world is today, better days will come.

It’s almost as if Springsteen wrote this song for this exact moment in history.

The paradox of preparation

I’d like to suggest that we all be as gentle as possible with each other in this unprecedented time.

I’m thinking specifically about the paradox of preparation:

Outstanding preparation and precaution often yield outstanding outcomes, but these outstanding outcomes often cause the preparation to seem unnecessary, silly, or an overreaction.

Japanese officials were characterized in this way when they closed all schools nationwide on February 27 with only a few confirmed cases of COVID-19 in their country. As world leaders like Trump insisted that coronavirus was “under control” and “a hoax,” the Japanese took this virus seriously.

Eleven days ago, with Japanese schools closed and coronavirus silently spreading across our country and scientists warning of a coming pandemic, Trump said, “They’re trying to scare everybody, from meetings, cancel the meetings, close the schools — you know, destroy the country. And that’s ok, as long as we can win the election.”

Two days after Japan closed its schools, Trump said, “When you have 15 people, and the 15 within a couple of days it’s going to be close to zero, I think we’ve done a pretty good job.”

Less than three weeks ago, Trump was proclaiming America nearly virus-free.

Meanwhile, Japanese school children were safe at home.

Today the Japanese are looking like geniuses.

Outstanding outcomes can also make the preparation before the outcome seem unnecessary. If social distancing, social isolation, and quarantine flatten the curve immensely and bring a screeching halt to the spread of this virus, some will say that these measures were never needed in the first place.

The behaviors that may ultimately save us will be seen in retrospect as an overreaction because they were so damn effective.

With all of this in mind, let us be exceptionally kind to each other. If you see someone in the grocery store wearing gloves and spraying sanitizer on every box that they touch (something I saw yesterday), don’t judge. Her preparation and extreme caution might just save her life.

Likewise, if someone has stockpiled three months of Campbell's soup in their house, even though the chances of real food shortages are very unlikely, be gentle. That person might just need those cans of food for peace of mind.

If you have children at home, you can suddenly find yourself fearing the strangest things. Unreasonable possibilities can suddenly feel like reality, so if cans of soup can quell those fears, that is what we do.

I was talking to my neighbor yesterday (at a distance), and he, like us, has decided to isolated himself from the world as much as possible.

Grocery store and gas only.

He visits his elderly mother every day but refuses to enter her home. He sits in the middle of her front lawn, and she sits on the porch. It’s the only way he has agreed to visit her. She thinks this is ridiculous and unnecessary, and if she stays healthy and survives this pandemic in the peak of health, she may tease her son about his caution for years, but his caution might have saved her life.

That is the paradox of preparation. Preparation leads to good outcomes, but those good outcomes often make the preparation seem silly in retrospect.

So if your friend or loved one or neighbor has adopted exceptional precautions or is prepared beyond what seems to be reasonable, be gentle. If you’re about to tease or criticize or scoff, don’t.

An individual’s struggles, both internal and external, are unknowable. There is no telling what that person needs to be or feel safe. And there’s no telling how their preparation - as silly as it might seem now - might just save their life and the lives of the people who they could potentially infect.

Let’s be gentle with each other in these trying days.

Now I'm worried about the 7-11 guy?

Two weeks ago, before our country came to a standstill and life changed so profoundly for so many of us, I was stepping toward the counter at a 7-11 with a Diet Coke in my hand. A man was already standing at the counter, but off to the side.

Not exactly in line.

You know the type. The folks who see connivence stores as places to solicit conversation, usually with the clerk but occasionally with the customers. They purchase a coffee or a bottle of water but then proceed to drink it inside the store, hanging around the counter in hopes of striking up a little banter.

I encountered them when I managed McDonald’s restaurants, too, only McDonald’s has the gift of tables and chairs, so although they would linger at the counter longer than necessary, trying to talk, they would eventually move into the dining room and attempt to strike up conversations with customers, too.

Lingerers, we would call them. Men and women who needed someone to talk to and chose clerks and customers as potential conversational partners.

I don’t typically mind these folks very much. I suspect that if I were a clerk in a convenience store, I would find them maddening, but I always thought of them as interesting souls. I actually wrote about them in one of my novels, commenting on the apparent tragedy of feeling so alone that you you must find conversation with people who are required to stand in one place for long periods of time.

A truly trapped audience.

But sometimes these folks can be frustrating, unnerving, or even frightening, depending on how they attempt to engage you. Most of the time they strike me as sweet and a little sad, but sometimes they instantly raise my defenses.

So as I approach the counter at 7-11, Diet Coke in hand, I am aware that the man standing adjacent to the cash register but not in front of the cash register is probably a lingerer.

Someone looking for conversation.

The clerk scans my soda. I push my debit card into the slot, and as I punch in my code, the lingerer says, “You know what’s so good about having money?” He speaks loudly and aggressively and takes one step in my direction while doing so, closing the distance between us to a few feet. He’s a large man, taller and heavier than me. I’m not intimidated, I know this man means no harm. At best he is going to try to shame me for having money, but more likely, he’s got some observation on the nature of a market-based economy that he needs to share or a bit of amusement to test out on me.

But he’s gone about this all wrong, nearly shouting and closing the gap between us. He would intimidate some people, and rightfully so, They might avoid this 7-11 in the future in fear of dealing with this man again.

All of this enters my mind, so I turn, and nearly unplanned and almost surprising to myself, I say, “Stop. This is weird.”

He starts to say something in defense, but I cut him off.

“No,” I say “It’s uncomfortable and aggressive, and it doesn’t make people feel safe. If you want to talk or have something important to say, start with ‘How’s it going?’ or ‘Hey, I dig Diet Coke, too.’ But not this, because this makes people feel uncomfortable.”

The keypad sings its little song as I speak, indicating that my card has been approved, and I am relieved. I’m not sure what I would’ve said next. I grab my card and soda and say, “Work on it,” before turning and leaving.

Quickly.

The lingerer doesn’t say a word. I’m sure that when I’m gone, he has a lot of things to say about me. None of them were very nice, I’m sure. Rightfully so. I could’ve simply indulged the man. Allowed him his moment of banter with another customer, but my years of dealing with lingerers while working behind the counter, combined with the sincere empathy I feel for these folks and my lifelong role as a teacher, all combined in that moment and forced me to act.

I wasn’t thrilled about my response, but I wasn’t disappointed, either. In retrospect, hearing him out first, then politely offering some advice might have been the kinder, gentler route.

But I also believe that a direct approach can be very helpful, too. Clear and jarring.

I find myself thinking about that man, who I encountered just three weeks ago. As we socially distance and begin to physically isolate ourselves to a great degree, I wonder where this man so in need for a conversational partner might be. If he’s been able to limit his contact between himself and others.

If he’s safe and well.

I hope so.

I’ve never been much of a fan of the lingerers of this world, but as we hunker down for the long haul, I look forward to the day when a stranger might share his thoughts on the nature of money, and I will only be mildly annoyed again.

Speak Up Storytelling: Ellen Feldman Ornato

On episode #90 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Matthew and Elysha Dicks talk storytelling!

In our follow up segment, we discuss the importance of storytelling and self-care in the time of this pandemic. We also read some listeners' emails and discuss events and workshops moving forward. 

STORYTELLING SHOWS 2020

April 18: Storytelling workshop (beginner), MOPCO Improv Theater, Schenectady, NY (remote)

STORYTELLING WORKSHOPS 2020

April 18: Storytelling workshop (beginner), MOPCO Improv Theater, Schenectady, NY (remote)
July 27-31: Storytelling boot camp, CT Historical Society

In our Homework for Life segment, I talk about taking a small moment with my son and building it into a much larger, more personally significant and vulnerable story. 

Next we listen to a story by Ellen Feldman Ornato.

Amongst the many things we discuss include:

Defining the landscape of the story

Universal appeal in unique moments

Scene setting through repetition

Restructuring stories to increase stakes

Pacing

Next we answer a question about crafting stories.  

Lastly, we each offer a recommendation. 

RECOMMEDATIONS

Elysha:

Read Brightly: https://www.readbrightly.com/

Matt:

Masterclass: https://www.masterclass.com/homepage

LINKS

Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling: https://amzn.to/2H3YNn3

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Love: https://amzn.to/35Mz1xS 

Homework for Life: https://bit.ly/2f9ZPne

Matthew Dicks's website: http://www.matthewdicks.com

Matthew Dicks's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/matthewjohndicks 

Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicksblog

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's weekly newsletter: 
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What to do with your kids during the pandemic: My advice

I was the guest on a radio show in DC yesterday with Bram Weinstein, talking about Tom Brady’s terrible, tragic, no-good, very bad exit from the New England Patriots (a topic for another day) and the challenges of distance learning during the pandemic.

I know that many parents have been struggling to teach their kids reading, writing, and math in these unusual days, but on the radio show, I offered a bit of advice on teaching your kids, and it was this:

Forget the curriculum. Just let your child find something to study. An area of interest. Something they genuinely enjoy.

Our son, Charlie, for example, spent an hour on Monday collecting and sorting rocks in the backyard. Learned to use a multiplication table. Memorized a few multiplication facts. Read several books on the Titanic. Played Exploding Kittens and Sequence with us. Listened to me read a Hardy Boys book to him. Watched Iron Man with us.

This morning we played Garbage together. Then he read a book on magic and demonstrated some of the magic tricks for us. He built a volcano on Minecraft, reading about how volcanos work so that he could make it erupt. He and Elysha played Labrinth together, and later, they worked on a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle. He played a storytelling improv game with me. We listened to Hamilton.

We’re elementary school teachers who could easily begun teaching our kids the curriculum, and soon, their school district will be doing just that. but when it comes to working with your kids, my advice is simple:

Keep their minds active. Allow them to pursue their interests. Limit their screen time. Don’t judge them for their interests. What they find fascinating - like backyard rocks - might seem silly to us, but collecting, sorting, comparing, contrasting, and treasuring are all great, great things.

These are strange, frightening days for our kids. The world is not normal. There is no need to push curriculum, onto your children right now. As schools begin to launch distance learning initiatives, allow them to offer your children instruction on reading, writing, and math, and perhaps guide you a bit as you try to support them.

But for now, allow their minds to wander. Let them build and explore. Draw and color. Climb and collect. Keep them active. Limit screen time.

There are many ways to learn, and many, many things to learn.

A lifetime to learn.

This is a time to keep kids happy and safe. Keep their minds working, but remember that they are probably nervous and frightened, as we all are.

No need to add any pressure beyond what they are already feeling.

In an effort to help parents, I’m doing storytelling workshops on Facebook Live. You can watch yesterday’s workshop on my YouTube channel here and here.

You can listen to my segment on the radio here: