Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 182
October 21, 2019
Unexpected benefits of teaching
The biggest surprise of my teaching career:
Many of my students would remain in my life long after they had left my classroom.
Some have become longterm babysitters for my children. Some have stayed in touch via email and social media. Some continue to share their writing with me on a regular basis.
Some have become my honest-to-goodness friends.
Two weekends ago, I officiated the wedding of one of my first students - a little second grader in 1999 who has turned into brilliant young woman. It was an incredible honor to stand alongside her as she married the man who she loved.
it was also unforgettable. Never before have I seen a couple so relaxed and silly and joyful in the midst of their wedding ceremony, and after 22 years as a wedding DJ and 15 years of officiating weddings, I’ve seen a lot of ceremonies.
This one was the best.
Attending the wedding were several former students from my school, including some of my own former students. Strangely enough, they are now the same age that I was when I was teaching them.
All grown up now, they have both changed so much and also not changed a bit. We had a great time relaxing and chatting and dancing the night away.
Never could I have imagined such a thing when I first stepped into my classroom in 1999.
There are many, many benefits to becoming a school teacher, but the one I never expected was the lifelong relationships I would forge with some of my students.
How very lucky I am.
October 20, 2019
Vermont getaway
I write these words from the sitting room of a beautiful bed and breakfast in the town of Dorsett, Vermont.
Three days ago, I told Elysha that I was surprising her with a weekend getaway to an undisclosed location. “Pack a bag for the weekend. We’re heading north.”
It’s been a glorious three days, thanks in large part to our friends, Kathy and Eddie, who are entertaining our children while we are away, and especially Kathy, who also recommended this particular location and helped make it happen.
This is just the second time in ten years that Elysha and I have gotten away alone. We traveled to Kennebunkport, Maine, three years ago to celebrate our tenth anniversary together, but I had pneumonia during our trip - a fact that I concealed from Elysha until we returned home- so that trip was a little more challenging for me.
This one has been splendid. We’ve met remarkably kind and interesting people and seen remarkable things. We visited Hildene, the former home of Robert Todd Lincoln and the Lincoln ancestors, with its stunning views and fascinating history. We drove to the summit Mount Equinox to take in the views of four states from the top. We’ve visited little shops, spectacular restaurants, and our old friends at Northshire Bookstore. We’ve dined on the sweetness of maple candy and watched the Yankees less-than-sweet loss to the Houston Astros, thus ending their season.
There were a few other bumps along the road, including:
After dinner last night, we drove around, searching for something called the Festival of Darkness and failed to find it. Perhaps that was a lucky thing.
We stopped by a goat farm that really didn’t deserve a single moment of our time. Why would anyone think that watching goats be goats could be entertaining?
We listened to an exceptionally loud server on the other side of a restaurant talk about putting her dog to sleep. She’s retiring tomorrow after a multi-decade career - a fact we also leaned thanks to her volume - so in this case, our timing was off by a couple of days.
I walked in on one of the other house guest while she was sitting on the toilet, because that is what I do.
Mostly Elysha and I have held hands and enjoyed the foliage of Vermont while thinking about our kids.
October 19, 2019
Don’t eat children
I told Charlie to hurry up and get into the car “…before the Daddy monster eats you!”
“You eat children?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, I do,” I said in my most gravely voice.
"If that’s true,” he said, “then you eat poop and butts and feet.”
There’s really nothing more impressive than a witty, rhetorical comeback.
October 18, 2019
It's real. And appalling.
In case you missed it, this is the letter that Donald Trump sent to Turkey President Erdogan urging him not to attack our Kurdish allies after announcing that he was pulling our troops out of Syria.
He made this announcement without consulting or even warning the US military, the US Congress, or our NATO allies. He also did so without any actual plans for evacuation, placing our troops in harm’s way and requiring our soldiers to blow up millions of dollars in military hardware as they retreated.
It’s a real letter, I promise you. I was absolutely certain that it was a hoax, but the White House has confirmed its authenticity.
Erdogan launched his attack and began slaughtering our longtime Kurdish allies the very next day.
October 17, 2019
Speak Up Storytelling #67: Bobby Klau
On episode #68 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Matthew and Elysha Dicks talk storytelling!
In our follow up segment, we discuss last week's episode and plans for an upcoming episode. We also discuss a recent review of the podcast and decisions related to the use of profanity in storytelling. Elysha also congratulates listeners for their recent ukulele playing,.
In our Homework for Life segment, we talk about a strategy to find hidden stories in your life via seemingly microscopic moments, and an especially useful strategy to use if you're trying to find a story to match a theme
Next we listen to a story by Bobby Klau.
Amongst the many things we discuss include:
Humor in storytelling through word choice, tonality, and misdirection
Scene setting and re-establishing
Singing as a part of storytelling
The crucial "but" at the beginning of stories
Rounding out stories and indicating the importance of every word of the story by bringing early elements into later parts of a story
RECOMMEDATIONS
Elysha:
Matt:
Nicholson Baker
Text from The Anthologist
"And then a man of forty or so, with a French accent, asked, 'How do you achieve the presence of mind to initiate the writing of a poem?'
And something cracked open in me, and I finally stopped hoarding and told them my most useful secret.
The only secret that has helped me consistently over all the years that I've written.
I said, 'Well, I'll tell you how. I ask a simple question. I ask myself: What was the very best moment of your day?'
The wonder of it was, I told them, that this one question could lift out from my life exactly what I will want to write a poem about.
Something I hadn't known was important will leap out and hover there in front of me, saying I AM—I am the best moment of the day.
'Often,' I went on, 'it's a moment when you're waiting for someone, or you're driving somewhere, or maybe you're just walking across a parking lot and admiring the oil stains and the dribbled tar patterns.
One time it was when I was driving past a certain house that was screaming with sunlitness on its white clapboards, and then I plunged through tree shadows that splashed and splayed across the windshield.
I thought, Ah, of course—I'd forgotten.
You, windshield shadows, you are the best moment of the day."
~ Nicholson Baker, from The Anthologist
LINKS
Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling
Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Love
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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October 16, 2019
My postage stamp mia culpa
Yesterday I shared a series of text messages between my wife and me that did not go well. While standing in the post office, I watched a woman spend five minutes examining all of the possible postage stamps, hemming and hawing, before choosing the one that she liked. As I watched this happen, I sent a text message to my wife declaring that all people who engage in this behavior insane.
She responded a moment later, informing me that she engaged in this very same behavior on a regular basis.
“That’s me,” she wrote. “I love pretty stamps.”
As this post was disseminated on my blog and social media, the response was almost immediate.
Lots and lots of people engage in this behavior, and all came running to Elysha’s defense. Apparently there is an enormous number of people who want to put pretty stickers on envelopes before sending those envelopes away forever.
I was shocked.
While I would like to officially retract the accusation of insanity, I’d also like to take a moment to explain my faulty rationale. It comes down to one simple belief:
I couldn’t imagine anyone of sound mind wasting a precious second choosing a stamp that will eventually be ignored or forgotten.
In short, I can’t imagine not making almost all decisions based upon the preservation of time.
And yes, I understand that it’s requires an exceptionally short period of time to choose a stamp. I also understand that these stamps often represent works of art. I even understand that the stamp you place upon a letter might even say something about you, but in almost all things - but especially in all chores, tasks, errands, and the life - I always default to the fastest, most efficient method of completion.
It’s why I shop for groceries while almost running through the aisles. It’s why I have experimented to determine the fastest way to empty a dishwasher. It’s why I try to keep my showers under 100 seconds by counting while washing. It’s why most of my clothing decisions have defaulted to set “uniforms” for each part of my daily life. It’s why I live my life by routines that allow for the least number of wasted steps and lost time.
When it came to purchasing stamps, I simply could not imagine spending one second longer in the post office that what was necessary.
I understand that not everyone focuses on the preservation of time like me. I also understand that people value things differently than me. I also understand that running through a grocery store or timing the emptying of a dishwasher or wearing the same thing on stage every night might seem a little crazy, but I think of time as my most precious commodity, and I want to spend as much of it as possible with the people I love and the work that I adore.
This means that I’ll take those flag stamps if it means I can arrive home two minutes earlier and therefore spend two extra minutes with Elysha or the kids or the cats.
I’m not saying that I’m right in this approach. After all, I’m a guy who takes cold showers that are less than 100 seconds long. I choose the shirt that I’ll be wearing for work based upon whichever shirt has migrated to the top of the pile. I try to take the inside lane while walking in hallways and cut corners as often as possible, knowing that doing so might save me a few seconds on my trip.
Perhaps I am the one suffering from insanity, which is why I once again retract my previous statement. If the pretty stamp that you affix to your water bill or perfunctory thank you note makes you happy, who am I to cast aspersions?
A crazy person. That’s who.
October 15, 2019
October 14, 2019
I sometimes use different words based upon the day
Something I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone:
Sometimes my choice of words is dependent upon the day.
A few days ago I wrote about Harvard’s unconscionable policy of admitting applicants based upon legacy and parental donations, when a great number of those students would not have otherwise been admitted to the university. I suggested that we consider this policy when assessing the accomplishments of a Harvard grad and mentally discount their achievement based upon this system of graft and preferential treatment existing at the school.
I went on to say that you should probably discount my own accomplishments, too, given that I hit the genetic lottery by being born as a white, straight, relatively intelligent, healthy American man.
Take away any one of those things, and my life is much more challenging.
I had all the advantages a person could ever want. My status has allowed me to avoid discrimination, sexism. and the struggles associated with longterm illness and addiction. And I was born in America. There are many, many places on this planet where I could not have pursued my drams like I have in this country.
Then I wrote this sentence:
In fact, if you’re a white straight man living in America who is relatively intelligent, healthy, and not battling addiction and you can’t find a way to earn a living in this world, you have no one to blame but yourself.
Then I deleted the sentence. I deleted it because I recognized its possible incendiary quality. I could easily envision someone reading this and taking great offense. Either they matched the characteristics that I listed and were still struggling to earn a living, or they had had a child - all grown up - who matched the characteristics and was still living at home, unable to find work.
I pictured struggling writers and painters and pie-in-the-sky entrepreneurs whose lifelong dreams were not panning out. I pictured a mother who was still supporting her son as he tried to carve a spot in the cutthroat world of competitive video game playing. I envisioned myself explaining to these painters and writers and entrepreneurs that chasing your dream is wonderful, but that most creative people either starve without complaint or get a job to feed themselves whilst they paint or sculpt or write or invent.
Telling straight, white American men that they are losers if they can’t earn a living could be provocative, and although I love to be provocative, I was writing that post on Saturday, the day that I was officiating the wedding of my former student.
I didn’t want to deal with a potentially angry online mob on that blessed, beautiful day, so I removed the sentence.
I’ve done this before - rarely - but the particular day ahead of me will sometimes dictate how far I will push an idea. I’ve also had days when I’ve itching for a fight or know that I will be home sick with lots of time on my hands, and on those days, I will push extra hard.
I try to poke the bear.
So as disingenuous as it may sound, I have been known to temper an argument for the sake of peace on a given day, and I’ve also been known to sharpen an argument on those days when I’m looking forward to some online confrontation.
I think of it as self care. I don’t betray my argument or idea, but I simply shape it based upon what I’m able and willing to deal with on any given day.
So if you’re upset with my assertions about white,. straight, healthy American men, today is the day to fire away. I’m home from work in honor of Indigenous People’s Day. Plenty of time to do battle if necessary.
October 13, 2019
Mean things spoken about my body
People have been very mean to me this week.
Early in the week, I went for a physical therapy evaluation. The woman evaluating my shoulders said, “You have extremely large shoulder bones.”
“Oh,” I said, admittedly surprised. Somehow I’d managed to make it through more than four decades of life without ever having been told about my extremely large shoulder bones.
“Is that good?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “It’s terrible. It makes for all kinds of problems.”
Great. I have bad shoulders.
Three days later, I was purchasing a new shirt. A man at the store had taken my measurements, but as the saleswoman scanned them, she said, “Come here. I need to check your neck.”
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“He wrote down that you have an 19-inch neck, but that makes no sense.”
“Why?” I asked as she wrapped the tape measure around my neck.
“Someone with your height and arm length can’t have a 19-inch neck.”
Then she measured.
“Oh,” she said.
“Was he right?” I asked.
She looked confused. “It’s not quite 19 inches, but it’s close.”
“Is that okay?” I asked.
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find you as shirt with a 19-inch neck that matches your sleeve length. Your size doesn’t make any sense. You’ll probably have to wear an 18-inch neck for the wedding and I can special order you a shirt for the future.”
Great. My size doesn’t make any sense.
These comments go along well with comments made by my friends in the past, including:
“You have arms like legs and legs like people.”
“You’re a neckless stump with legs for arms.”
“You’re built like a tiny T-Rex.”
Happily, none of these comments were made by Elysha.
October 12, 2019
Yoda is kind of a jerk
Yoda from Star Wars once famously told Luke Skywalker, “Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
I think that there are times when this is absolutely true. Whenever your ability to do something is based simply upon your willingness to do it or not, Yoda is right.
“Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
I’ll try to do my homework
I’ll try to be on time.
I’ll try to keep my room clean.
I’ll try to be more patient with my mother-in-law.
I’ll try not to drink too much at the football game.
Yes, in each of these instances, I agree with Yoda. “Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
But there are also times in our lives when all you can do is try. Take, for example, lifting a spaceship out of a swamp with your mind. Something you’ve never done before and never seen done. This is what Luke Skywalker was attempting when Yoda uttered this famous phrase.
What a jerk.
A farm boy from a desert planet who had never even heard about the Force until a year or two earlier finds himself on an alien swamp planet, being asked by a talking frog to lift a spaceship out of the swamp using only his thoughts.
No, Yoda. This is most definitely an “I’ll try” situation. Admittedly, Luke’s assertion that he would try wasn’t very convincing, but even so, lifting a spaceship from a swamp with your mind for the first time is most assuredly an “I’ll try” moment.
Much like:
I’ll try to hit a home run.
I’ll try to answer all of the math equations correctly.
I’ll try to make that girl fall in love with me.
I’ll try to make a tuna avocado melt that tastes good.
I’ll try to write a blog post without a typo.
There are moments in our lives when “Do. Or do not. There is no try,” is nonsense.
Kind of like the time when Yoda failed to defeat the Emperor in a light saber battle and end the threat of the Empire forever.
What happened in that situation, Yoda? Did you choose, “Do not end the threat of the Empire?” “Do not spare the lives of millions of innocent life forms?” “Do not save your Jedi friend?”
No, Yoda. You tried. And failed. Your own words.
So spare us the “Do. Or do not. There is no try” nonsense. It’s the kind of thing an arrogant jackass would say.
