Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 411

Her biggest fan

I had no idea how joyous a big sister singing to a little brother could be.

My little farm boy

Having spent the first eight years of my life (prior to my parents divorce) living on a horse farm and next door to a dairy farm, I found this moment divine.

My son’s intense interest in this horse and his attempts to reach out and touch it made my heart ache for that brief time in my life when I was a farm boy who spent his days on the back of a horse.

    

Productivity #3: No one cares (or even notices) what you look like.

I ran into a friend at the grocery store on Saturday morning. After exchanging pleasantries, he said, “I admire you. I could never leave the house like that.”

“Like that” consisted of a sweat pants, an old tee shirt and a baseball cap. I had just come from the gym, though I could’ve been just as easily dressed this way regardless of my previous destination.

“I look that bad?” I asked.

“No,” he said, immediately backtracking.  “I’m just saying…  I need to make myself look more presentable before I leave the house. You know?”

I do. I also know that he is not alone in his need to make himself presentable before leaving the house. 

This need to look presentable in most, if not all, public circumstance, is highly unproductive. While I’m not saying that you need to look like a slob in order to be productive, I also don’t think that you should be too worried about your appearance if you’re destination is a grocery store, a retail outlet or a similar location, especially if it will delay your trip.

The store where I was shopping opens at 9:00 AM. I like to be there when the doors open because the checkout lines can become unreasonably long on a weekend. I also wanted to stop at the gym on the way.

I explained this to my friend, and he said that he just couldn’t do that. “It might save time, but I just couldn’t go shopping looking like that. I would need to work out at the gym, go home, take a shower, get dressed and then go out shopping.”

This poor guy actually thinks that people care what he looks like while shopping in a big box retailer on a Saturday morning. He thinks they will remember what he looked like a day later.

He’s not alone, of course.

I’m convinced that the less you care about your physical appearance, the more productive you can be. And caring less is a good idea in many, many cases. Perhaps not when you are meeting with a client or making a presentation or attending your cousin’s wedding, but in your day-to-day existence, caring less is good because no one ever cares as much as you think.

Here’s my hypothesis:

90% of all “good hair days” are only noticed by the person who owns the hair. I understand that a good hair day can make a person feel great, but those feelings are based upon the presumption that people will notice the hair.

They don’t.

The difference between a goof hair day and a bad hair day is only distinguishable by someone who has spent their life looking at the hair in close detail. You may think your hair looks terrible, but no one else does.

I attended a wedding last year. I no longer wear ties, and a friend pointed out to me that I was the only man at the entire wedding not wearing a tie. “Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?” she asked.

It didn’t. That wedding was a year ago. How many of the guests at that wedding still remember that I was not wearing a tie? How many even noticed the absence of a tie that evening? How many noticed and thought poorly of me?

The answers to all these questions are none or almost none.

No one cares what you look like.

The misconception that people are paying greater attention to you than they really are is known as The Spotlight Effect, and it has been demonstrated many, many times by social psychologists.

In one test, students were asked to wear bright yellow, oversized Barry Manilow t-shirts to a large introductory to psychology class. Researchers then had them estimate how many people in the class had noticed their shirt.

Students estimated that 50% of their classmates noticed their shirt. In reality almost no one did.

Not only do people not care what you look like, but they are rarely paying attention.

When you can embrace this belief, you will be more productive. You’ll spend less time getting ready to go out. You’ll be more willing to jump in the car in pajama pants and a tee shirt to run an errand. You’ll be more likely to dress sensibly rather than stylishly.

Just imagine how much time you could recapture if you spend less time in front of a mirror every day. Or less time choosing an outfit. Or less time worrying about how you look.

If you spend 45 minutes getting showered and dressed every morning, but your competitor spends 15 minutes accomplishing the same task, the amount of time that your competitor gains on you is astounding.

More than 3 hours in a week. More than 14 hours in a month. More than 168 hours in a year.

Think about that:

Your competitor gains four 40-hour  work weeks worth of time on you every year because of the time you spend in front of the mirror. If he is using that time wisely, it will be extremely hard to ever get ahead of him.

Imagine what you could do with four extra work weeks every year.

All that for something that no one cares about and few people are even noticing.  

Think back on how my friend would’ve handled his morning differently than me. He would’ve gone to the gym, returned home, showered and dressed, and then left the house again for the store.

By going from the gym to the store and then home, I saved a needless trip. My route guaranteed that I would be at the store when it opened, allowing me to avoid the checkout lines. My way was much faster and therefore more productive, and I promise you, I used the time gained wisely.

I am not saying to look like a slob. I am not saying that you should ignore your physical appearance entirely. I’m suggesting that you probably spend too much time worrying about your appearance, and as a result, too much time making yourself presentable.

I’m suggesting that you could probably shave precious minutes off your morning routine while not changing anyone’s opinion of you or your appearance whatsoever.

Try it for a week. Keep track of the time that you recapture, and use it wisely. Spend it with your children. Go to work early and accomplish a goal that has been sitting on the backburner. Make yourself a healthier breakfast. Read 10 pages in that book that has been sitting on the nightstand forever. Send an email to an old friend. Meditate.

15 minutes is a long time. You can do so many things in 15 minutes.

Embrace the idea that you can look just as good as you do in half the time, and then begin living that belief.  

Wes Anderson loves yellow, orange and brown. I do not.

I am not a fan of Wes Anderson’s films.

I suspect that it’s because I’m an auditory learner who remembers almost everything he hears but almost nothing he sees.

My wife says that if she were placed in a lineup with other brunettes, I might have a difficult time picking her out. Not true, but she illustrates the point well. Oftentimes, I can’t tell you what clothing I am wearing unless I look down.

My visual receptive skills are lacking, and Anderson’s films are visual masterpieces. Though I know this empirically, his skill and expertise are often lost on me.

Either that or I am not a fan or yellow, orange and brown, which are essentially the only colors that Anderson uses in his films.

If you think I’m exaggerating, watch this video on the themes in Anderson’s films. It’s actually quite interesting, but it fails to note his obsessive use of these three colors, which are on full display in the video itself.

Speak Up!

Tickets for our upcoming Speak Up storytelling show on March 29 at Real Art Ways in Hartford are now on sale through the Real Art Ways website. If you plan on coming to the show, please order your tickets soon as they will likely sell out well in advance of the show.

The theme of the night is Law and Order. We have a fabulous lineup of storytellers for you with some amazing, amusing and hair raising tales.

In the coming weeks, we will be featuring our storytellers here and on our Speak Up Facebook page.

Tickets can be ordered here.

Worst lawyer commercial ever made

No, it’s not the best. Don’t even joke about it.

The possible closing of a school is hard enough already. Compassion and sensitivity should be the order of the day.

For the last four years, my daughter has been a student at Noah’s Ark, Temple Beth Israel’s daycare and nursery school. In that time, our family has come to respect and adore the teachers who have taken such great care of our child and taught her so much. Noah’s Ark was the place where my daughter first spread her wings, made new friends without the help of her parents and learned to stand on her own two feet.

She loves her school with all her heart.

I have attended holiday services at the synagogue with my family. My daughter participates in Shabbat every Friday with the rabbis, who our family have also grown to love and respect.

In June, our daughter will leave Noah’s Ark to begin kindergarten. Even so, news that the school may close doesn’t upset us any less. Over the past four years, we have grown to care deeply about the teachers, administrators and children who spend their days in a place that has become a second home to my child.

In the end, finances may doom the school that we have grown to love. While I don’t pretend to understand the budgetary issues, I understand that businesses cannot be run at a loss forever. Perhaps something can be done. I hope so.

But here’s the thing:

Knowing that the possible closing of a school can be a difficult and painful process, involving children, parents, alumni and teachers, means that extraordinary sensitivity and compassion should be exercised at all times. But what Noah’s Ark task force member April Haskell said last Thursday night while addressing parents who gathered in hopes of saving their school was anything but compassionate.

Hartford Courant reporter Julie Stagis reported that Haskell told parents that “losing child care is something that ‘happens in life’ and that she didn’t ‘stamp her feet’ when babysitters unexpectedly quit when her son was young.”

To compare trained and skilled educators with years (and in some cases decades) of experience to babysitters is wrong.

To compare the efforts of parents who want to save a school to stamping their feet is wrong.

To suggest that the loss of childcare is something that happens in life, akin to flat tires and spoiled fruit, demonstrates a lack of empathy and understanding.

These remarks come on the heels of President Claire Feldman’s letter to Noah’s Ark parents informing them that the synagogue could no longer afford to subsidize the school. Feldman explained that a task force had been formed, initially absent any parent, teacher or school administrator, that would decide the fate of the school in two weeks.

There are families who have sent their children to Noah’s Ark for ten years. There are children like my daughter who have spent most of their lives as students of the school. There are teachers who have spent 25 years teaching in Noah’s Ark classrooms.

The task force plans on spending all of 15 days deciding their fate.

This does not strike me as a sincere attempt to save the school.

Closing the school midyear also means that parents have missed preschool application deadlines and will struggle to find a new place for their children. It means that teachers will have a considerably more difficult time finding other teaching positions.

Had this task force been formed six months ago, perhaps warning could have been given and real solutions could have been explored.

Honestly, how many real solutions can be explored in two weeks? 

Moving forward, the leaders of Temple Beth Israel would be wise to demonstrate greater compassion and respect for the parents and teachers who have devoted years, and in some cases, decades, to this institution. Public relations matter. 

If Noah’s Ark must close, and I sincerely hope it does not, there is no reason to besmirch the reputation of this vibrant synagogue with thoughtless comments and a process that seems less than genuine.

The possible closing of a school is hard enough. Ignorance and condescension only serve to damage reputations further.

For the last four years, my daughter has been a student at Noah’s Ark, Temple Beth Israel’s daycare and nursery school. In that time, our family has come to respect and adore the teachers who have taken such great care of our child and taught her so much. Noah’s Ark was the place where my daughter first spread her wings, made new friends without the help of her parents and learned to stand on her own two feet.

She loves her school with all her heart.

I have attended holiday services at the synagogue with my family. My daughter participates in Shabbat every Friday with the rabbis, who our family have also grown to love and respect.

In June, our daughter will leave Noah’s Ark to begin kindergarten. Even so, news that the school may close doesn’t upset us any less. Over the past four years, we have grown to care deeply about the teachers, administrators and children who spend their days in a place that has become a second home to my child.

In the end, finances may doom the school that we have grown to love. While I don’t pretend to understand the budgetary issues, I understand that businesses cannot be run at a loss forever. Perhaps something can be done. I hope so.

But here’s the thing:

We all think stupid things from time to time. Thoughts run through our minds that are wrongheaded and insensitive. But it takes an extraordinarily tone-deaf person to say what Noah’s Ark task force member April Haskell said last Thursday night when addressing parents who gathered in hopes of saving their school.

Hartford Courant reporter Julie Stagis reported that Haskell told parents that “losing child care is something that ‘happens in life’ and that she didn’t ‘stamp her feet’ when babysitters unexpectedly quit when her son was young.”

To compare trained and skilled educators with years (and in some cases decades) of experience to babysitters is ignorant and condescending.

To compare the efforts of parents who want to save a school to stamping their feet is also ignorant and condescending.

To suggest that the loss of childcare is something that happens in life, akin to flat tires and spoiled fruit, is ignorant, condescending and demonstrates a lack of empathy that I find astounding.

These remarks come on the heels of President Claire Feldman’s letter to Noah’s Ark parents informing them that the synagogue could no longer afford to subsidize the school. Feldman explained that a task force had been formed, initially absent any parent, teacher or school administrator, and it would decide the fate of the school in two weeks.

There are families who have sent their children to Noah’s Ark for ten years. There are children like my daughter who have spent most of their lives as students of the school. There are teachers who have spent 25 years teaching in Noah’s Ark classrooms.

Feldman’s task force plans on spending all of 15 days deciding their fate.

This does not strike me as a sincere attempt to save the school.

Closing the school midyear also means that  parents have missed preschool application deadlines and teachers will have a considerably more difficult time finding other jobs.

Had this task force been formed six months ago, perhaps warning could have been given and real solutions could have been explored.

Honestly, how many real solutions can be explored in two weeks? 

I am not Jewish, nor am I a member of the synagogue, but the comments made at Thursday night’s meeting by Haskell and task force process as outlined by Feldman give me reason to wonder if I care more deeply about the image of this synagogue and its congregation than some of the people currently leading it.

At the very least, I would expect task force members like April Haskell to pretend to care about the people involved even if empathy and compassion are beyond her capabilities.

I suggest that going forward, Temple Beth Israel find leaders who possess a modicum of compassion and respect for the parents and teachers who have devoted years, and in some cases, decades, to this institution. I suggest that the synagogue find representatives with a basic understanding of public relations.

If Noah’s Ark must close, and I sincerely hope it does not, there is no reason to besmirch the reputation of this vibrant synagogue with the ignorant, thoughtless and condescending remarks of some of the people leading this highly questionable process.

Clara’s deep thoughts while reading Neil Gaiman’s Instructions

Comments uttered in whispers:

“I trust my story.”

“I always betray my heart with my tongue.” 

Pressure is a privilege

Author Susan Schoenberger posted this quote to her Twitter feed:

“Pressure is a privilege.” – Billie Jean King as heard on Fresh Air.

I love this idea. It’s so true.

Many of the things that I choose to do involve pressure.

I stand before 21 students every day, knowing full well that I am responsible for their academic success, and that a portion of their future professional success is in my hands.

I do not take this responsibility lightly. I worry about my students a lot.

I write novels. I choose every word. I create every character, every setting and every scenario. Then I send my story into the world for public consumption and comment.

The success of the book is based almost entirely on my ability to create a story that readers love. The viability of my writing career hinges on the success of each book.

I am a storyteller. I stand before as many of 1,500 people at a time and share a true story from my life in hopes that they will be entertained and moved.

If I am competing in a StorySLAM, my story will immediately be followed with a numerical assignation of my performance by teams of complete strangers.

I am a wedding DJ. I am the person most responsible for the most important day in the lives of the couple who have hired me. Along with my partner, we coordinate every minute of the wedding. I feel more pressure on a person’s wedding day than any other day of the year. I understand how important this day is to them.

There are days when I yearn for a less pressure-filled life. I recently saw a parking garage attendant sitting in a booth, reading a book, listening to  music. While I understand that the person in that booth doesn’t earn as much as someone in my position, I found myself envious of him just the same. He was getting paid to perform a simple, stress-free job that allowed him to read a book and relax while on the job.

There are days when that sounds damn fine.

But Billie Jean King was right. Pressure is a privilege. It leads to a full, rewarding, memorable and meaningful life.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Most of the time.