The Journey

I’m driving into the cold dark night
And I’m hoping that the morning light
Will have answers to the questions
That burn my soul
The tires just keep slapping the road
They keep adding weight to my heavy load
I’m hurting and it’s starting to take a toll

I don’t know which is emptier
The gas tank or my heart
I’m heading in no direction at all
Looking for a brand new start

There’s an all-night station open ahead
Man puts in some gas, shirt says his name is Fred
Seems friendly, boy,
Could I use a friend right now
But he goes back to his black and white TV
I’ve paid the bill, so he doesn’t see me
Try to get his attention, I wish that I knew how

I lunge towards the horizon
But it gets farther and farther away
My whole world seems uncertain
I hope it changes with the break of day

I’m following the white syncopated line
I fighting fatigue, but for now I feel fine
The coffee's kicking in, my radio's on
I slap my face to keep awake
My truck plunges through the morning mist
I've been gone for hours, I expect I've been missed
I've left all behind, there was nothing to take.

Still there's freedom coming through the window's crack
I have no possessions, but I've nothing to lack
Just being alive is reason enough
To live life today
And the sun is rising over the hill
I going to survive, I know I will
Even if there was a price to pay

Yes, starting anew is hard
There's little that remains
But better to start again
Than to live your life in chains

The Boxer

"Get up, you suck!" And I would, only to be beaten down again. Again, I would be taunted, "Get up, you suck!" And I would get up again.

Am I talking about bullying in the schoolyard? No, I found out much later in life that the bullies knew better than to threaten me.

This is what happened a few times in my basement. One of my brothers was an amateur boxer. He actually appeared on television once in the 50s. Thus, we had a couple of pairs of boxing gloves stored in our basement. They weren't the actual ones used in fights. They were more like big pillows. Still, a sock to the jaw had a jarring effect.

Once in awhile, my next oldest brother would take me down the basement for a bit of sparring. Honestly, I didn't know why I thought it was a good idea, but I went anyway. When you are a kid, maybe you think everything is going to be fun.

The gloves would be laced on and the routine would begin. I would go down, then get up. I would go down, then get up. This would continue until my mother would put an end to the fight.

Before you start feeling sorry for me, don't. This was a very valuable life lesson, even though it is rather obvious. I am thankful that this happened.

There are many times in life when you are flattened by something. You want to quit. Giving up seems the best and easiest option. Then you get up, sometimes to be flattened again. I learned that failure isn't measured in how many times you fall. It is measured by the one time you don't get up. Maybe you are going through a difficulty. We all do. My words to you? "Get up, you suck!"

My only regret is that I couldn't teach my older brother the same lesson. I'm sure life has taught him some wonderful things, too.

Tickled to Death

Being the youngest of eight children, I was often treated in a manner that was not of my choosing. To me, though, it was all a part of growing up. Each episode became a lesson in life.

This one was cruel. Some of my siblings would often hold me down and tickle me. I'm sure you have done this to a younger brother or sister if you have one. This went well beyond a mere laugh. They would tickle me until I was exhausted. I would be calling out for them to stop and they would continue. I don't know where my mother would have been. She was probably working as a crossing guard or doing something to get money to make ends meet. I just know how helpless I felt in the situation.

As I said, there is always a lesson to be learned.

One day, the tickling ritual was about to be performed again. I was hauled down to the floor from the couch. Their knees were on my shoulders and their hands started a flurry of activity in my mid-section. Nothing. Nothing happened. I had learned how not to be ticklish. Their frenzied activity had no effect. They tried and tried again. I just lay there relaxing.

From that day forward, nobody in my family ever even tried to tickle me. Why would they? I wouldn't respond. Friends have tried, without knowing my story. Still no response. Quite simply, tickling me will not work. Go ahead, try. You will be wasting your effort.

I often get this in the schoolyard. A child will run up to me and say, "Timmy called me a bad name." It even happened today. Yes, I could go to Timmy and tell him to stop doing that. I usually don't. I ask the child whether he thinks it is true or not. If the answer is no, then I ask them to ignore those kinds of comments. It the answer is yes, I assure them that it is an opinion that I don't share. I ask them whom they would rather believe, me or Timmy? My advice is consider the source and ignore it, just like I ignored the tickling.

It is going to happen to you sometime. Learn how not be ticklish about the things that bother you that others say. Don't take the bait. That validates their comments. Just ignore them and they will usually go away.

A Tale of Two Events

Last Friday, I attended a conference at the London Convention Centre called The Power Within. It featured a lot of top speakers, including Anthony Robbins. It would have cost me over $200 to attend, but my wife won the ticket in a raffle.

I didn't know what to expect, however, it was huge. I estimate that about 2,000 people attended. That comes to over $400,000. Wow! Here is what I learned.

If you have done something special and have a good story (having appeared on Oprah helps), then you can make a lot of money. The Power Within seems to be the power to hype people up for one day, make them feel good and send them out the door happy. Like a hangover, the effect may wear off. It did for me.

As I entered the room, speakers throbbed with music from the 70s and 80s. In order to return to your seat, you had to find a landmark. Way up there on the stage was the podium. The people there were like ants. Fortunately, there were big screens with projected video images. Hold it! Do you mean that the experience was similar to sitting at home and watching TV?

All of the speakers had high energy. And so they should. All entered to thunderous standing ovations. Funny, I thought standing ovations were the result of doing something, not for just merely entering a room. I could understand if it was somebody who had been paralysed moments before.

Some had you doing crazy things. Others had you hugging your neighbour or shouting. It was all positive entertainment.

The finale was saved for Anthony Robbins. Like a rock star, he kept the crowd waiting. He also gave the people the impression he was giving more by going over the time limit.

Robbins is an impressive individual. Like a charismatic pastor, he knows how to work the crowd. Unlike a charismatic pastor, his language is something to be desired. If his message is so wonderful, I don't see why he has to throw in words that might be offensive to some. I also had the impression that he blamed poor teachers for the problems in the classroom. Forget about how our society has changed the classroom. Forget about how poor parenting might contribute to the problem. No, it was poor teaching. I have a problem with that.

Now, let's look at another event I didn't attend. Jean Vanier, founder of L'Arch, addressed about 1700 students. Some were moved to tears by what he said. Others were inspired by his message.

What were the differences between the two events? One lasted all day and cost a lot of money to produce. I'm sure the speakers got tremendous fees for their appearances, plus their expenses paid. The other cost a lot less and was a lot shorter. Not being at the student event, I can't tell you about the effectiveness of the message, but it seems to have been wonderful.

This makes me think. Why do we spend oodles of money to discover our power within? Why don't we just walk down the street, meet someone we admire and respect, and ask them their secret to success.

I think the event with Jean Vanier would have been my choice if I hadn't had the free ticket.

A Love Poem

When I look into your eyes
I see your eyes looking at me
With emotion that's always equivalent to mine
It's this perfect balance that draws me so near you
When you hold me so tightly, I'm totally free
Oh let me climb and see all my horizons
Oh set me free to be what I can be
Fill my life up with your loving kindness
But open my eyes first so I'll always see

Though you're so far away
You'll always be near me
Your touch is only a memory away
I feel your heart beating or is it my own
I'm not really sure, it's no difference to me
Let's full up our days with the dreams we believe in
Let's chase the strong winds and always be free
Let's dance to the music that life plays just for us
And transform who we are into who we can be

Riske Business

I always enjoyed being around them. There was something about Ray and Roy Riske that was so inviting. These easy-going dairy farmers just outside of Edmonton, Alberta, who happened to be twin brothers, were no more hospitable than the other rural folk, though. Yet, I found that every time I visited them, I walked away feeling blessed.

Each time I left their home, I marveled at how much better I felt when I left compared to when I arrived. What was their secret?

Like a detective searching for the clue that would break the case, I started analyzing each detail of every visit.

Maybe it was the coffee. It was really good, but not extraordinary. How about the home-made carrot cake their wives had made that day? It was extraordinary, but you will know from attending any local church pot-luck that many women in Alberta create magic in the kitchen. So what was it then?

One day I got into a conversation with Ray and Roy about a vacation I was planning.

"Well, John, where are you going on your vacation?" asked Roy.

"I’m planning on going to Jasper, Lake Louise and Banff." I replied.

"We’ve been there, too, John," chimed Ray, "and you will love it."

"John, how long are you expecting to be away?" demanded Roy.

"Oh, about two weeks," I stated.

"It will be a vacation that you will never forget, John," Ray exclaimed.

I beamed and felt that familiar warmness I always felt when I was with the Riskes.

Suddenly I realized their secret – the magic words that made every person in their presence feel welcome. They are the sweetest words to every living being on the planet. Those words? Your own name!

Ray and Roy had the gift of being able to weave my name into every conversation. By doing so, I was drawn gently into their kind words. I was an important part of the discussion. I had to be. My name was mentioned so often.

Don’t believe me? Try it some time. It has worked for me. I think you will find the results amazing.

The Weather Report

My parents did not communicate well. They didn’t talk about their children. They didn’t talk about the news. The didn’t talk about what needed doing around the house. The seemed to talk only about one thing – the weather.

My father would come home from work and settle into his evening meal. He would take his cup of tea, add sugar and stir it round and round and round for what seemed forever, staring into space. Often somebody would ask him abruptly to stop stirring. Sometimes he would just snap out of it.

Eventually my mother would take her place at the table and the art of saying nothing would commence.

“It was a hot one today,” my father would say.

“Yes, it was,” my mom would reply.

“Got up to 78.” These were the days of Fahrenheit in Canada.

“No it didn’t. It was 77.”

That was it. Their trenches were dug and they would sit and argue about one degree. Never mind that they might have heard the weather report at different times of the day, thus the difference. It didn’t matter that few would be able to tell the difference between 77 and 78 degrees Fahrenheit. What mattered to each one was being right.

As a youngster I vowed to avoid talking about the weather at all possible costs. Sure, I might mention it if we have a blizzard or a tornado, but the everyday occurrence called the weather is really quite boring. Having lived in England, I learned you could have all four seasons in one day, so I simply learned to react to what was happening outside. I didn’t need to pick it apart in conversation.

There’s more to talking about the weather, though. It is an indication that something is wrong when this is what you talk about with a loved one. A whole world is happening out there. It is sad when your commentary on life is reduced to stating the obvious and is measured by degrees Fahrenheit or Celcius. Perhaps it gets a bit more exciting if you measure it in degrees Kelvin.

To Support and Protect

We all know the story of the Boy Scout who helps the old lady across the street, only to find that she didn’t want to cross the street in the first place. There is a valuable lesson to be learned in this.

Like many people, I enjoy Dancing with the Stars. Without exception, the dancing instructors are attractive people. Most of the contestants they dance with are married. They spend hours on end holding each other, often producing rather steamy dance routines. You would think that their wives and husbands would be upset.

What I have also noticed, though, are the spouses of these people cheering their husbands and wives on. The result is that the spouse actually is like a team member, encouraging their mate in something that is important. The trust that I see is stronger than any jealousy. And you know what? Many of the contestants have grown stronger in their relationships because of the support they have received from their families. It’s been sort of like “let’s help my husband or wife look good in front of a national audience.”

Now I know of some spouses who are protective of their wives and husbands. I’m sure their intentions are good, but I feel they don’t quite get what protection is. To them, protection means putting their mate in a cell so nobody can get at them. It’s sort of like the police putting me into jail to protect me from the criminals. What’s wrong with this picture? It’s obvious. The wrong person is being punished, but you know what? Many people feel trapped in this kind of a relationship and don’t know how to break away.

That is why I love the movie Braveheart. The hero is protecting the rights of his people, but not by hiding them or putting them behind a wall. He puts himself in the front line, willing to defend them against the foe. He risks his life to fight for their right to be free. He doesn’t limit their freedom, like many do and give it the name protection.

Give me a break. How can you limit the freedom of somebody and call it love? I have heard the analogy of how a person perceives his love as a precious jewel and is trying to protect it. If you keep your emerald locked in a jewellery box, it isn’t doing what it was designed to do. I want to show off my jewels. I want people to see how they sparkle. If I am constantly worrying about somebody stealing them, though, it would be better for me to have coal.

To start, like the old lady with the Boy Scout, the spouse should determine if their mate wants to be protected and what form of protection that should take. What do I mean?

The way I see it, I would rather provide protection by being a shelter in the storm for my love. However, if my woman asks me to provide protection, like Braveheart, I will be in front of her fighting for her freedom, not hiding her away and limiting it. Preventing your spouse from doing something isn’t giving love, it is taking love away, and it is a selfish love. It is not thinking of the other person. It is thinking of you.

I learned long ago that the way to keep somebody at your side is to give her so much that she would be a fool to leave. If you have a match where both are doing this, it is heaven on earth. It’s as simple as that, but it’s not that simple.

Have I got it all right? Absolutely not! I don’t pretend to have all of the answers. I have gotten many things wrong. However, life never stops teaching me. One lesson that comes to mind is the saying, “If you set a bird free and it comes back to you, it is yours. If it flies away, it never was.” If I want the maximum from a partner, I better be prepared to support her in their quest to be the best she can be, not pretend to protect her and limit her passion for life.

The War Veteran

We were on a boat between Dover and Oostende, Belgium. It was 1973. A pretty girl approached. He was on the left. I was on the right. As she passed us, our eyes finally met. Our mutual appreciation for beauty was our instant bond. Even though I was in my early 20s and he was over 60, our crudest of instincts brought us together.

“She’s a real cracker,” he said. I had to agree and went over to introduce myself.

His name was James Lucas and he was head of the photo archives at the Imperial War Museum in London.

He was on his way for a reunion of World War II veterans in Germany. After the war, it seems that all differences were put aside. Soldiers in all armies could meet and swap their stories.

We went for dinner on the boat and over the meal he mentioned that he had written several books about the war. His stories were entertaining. He told them with an amazing attention to detail. I was interested because I had read many books about the war. I had also watched many documentaries and films.

Then I asked a question. There has been so much written about World War II. Is there a story that hasn’t been told? This was his reply.

While many Jews were sent to the death camps, many escaped Germany into England. They spoke fluent German, of course.

At that time Rommel was having his way in northern Africa, inflicting many casualties on the Allies. He was such a clever tactician. Nobody seemed able to defeat him.

Somebody got the idea of creating a phony German battalion with these Jews. Months were spent preparing them for the battle. They would pose as the German army and then, at the proper moment, turn on Rommel and his troops.

There was one problem. Somebody leaked the plan to the Nazis.

When these British-trained troops arrived in the Sahara, Rommel knew all about them. Like lambs, they were led to the slaughter. I don’t recall Jim mentioning any survivors.

When I returned to London, I dropped in on Jim at the Imperial War Museum. He gave me a tour of what had once been the mental institution called Bedlam. Of particular interest was what had been the chapel. He mentioned that this is the only time men and women were allowed to be together. For many, attending church was an event to look forward to, but not necessarily for religious reasons.

Through the years I have wondered about Jim. I recently found out he died in 2002. He gave me an insight of war that few have been able to tell me. I wish I had had the opportunity of pulling one more story out of him.

In Every Teardrop There's a Rainbow

In every teardrop there's a rainbow
In every life a little pain
For every day of sunshine
There has to be some rain
Take seeds of happiness
In your garden you will sew
They will die with constant sunshine
They need rain to make them grow
When you're going through the dark times
And you think your life is through
Soon the storm clouds will be parted
And the sun will shine for you.

In every teardrop there’s a rainbow
That brings hope for future days
In you my hope is founded
In a million different ways
Just to see your joyful smile
And feel your gentle touch
Makes my life suddenly worthwhile
Though I miss you very much
Even though the rain is falling
The clouds will eventually go away
And it’s your name I am calling
And I expect we’ll have our day

Education and wisdom

She had a grade 6 education. He finished grade 8. My parents didn’t go very far in school. Even though she was the less educated of the two, my mother taught me the most.

She taught me that when the hour seems the darkest, that is when you just keep on going. There were a few times when raising 8 children with little support from her husband left her exhausted. I remember a few times seeing her crying on Saturday night, the night she did her accounting, and wondering where the money to pay the bills was coming from. Yet, she kept on and never gave up.

My mom taught me to try things you may not be familiar with, but to quit if you know in your heart it isn’t for you. My brother and I used to go on the street to play hockey with a tennis ball, one being the forward and the other being the goalie. Then he got interested in girls and started dating. On a lonely Saturday night, my mom volunteered to come outside and be the goalie. You see, she was willing to try. However, she knew when to quit. After a few shots, one went a bit high and hit her in the mouth, almost causing her to swallow her false teeth. Her dream of playing the nets for the Leafs was over.

Another lesson in life was that sometimes you have to go so low that everything looks better because it is. I remember feeling lonely and in despair. When this happened, she would prepare a pot of tea, break the leaves, pour it in my cup and read the tealeaves. She would weave a delightful story of how I would receive a letter soon and meet a stranger who would do something special in my life. And it usually would happen, not necessarily because of her talents, but you just tended to receive letters once in awhile in those days and you did meet new people now and again. What she did, though, was plant a seed of hope in the situation that encouraged me to keep at it.

My mother was unusual. She had every right to be. As I said, raising eight children pretty much on herself amid the clicking tongues of the neighbourhood. People often called us those Stevens, not the Stevens. She taught me that it is who you are that is important, not your circumstances. Whatever you do, never lose yourself and don’t ever let anybody take you from you. I’m sure there were times when she would have liked to have had a higher social position, but that never affected how high she held her head. She did her best and she was proud of that.

She always had a saying for everything. They could be summed in “a little bit of praise goes a long way.” She was far from perfect, but what she lacked in perfection, she made up in originality.

Finally, she taught me the difference between education and wisdom. She encouraged me to stay in school and get a university degree. While she had no idea what an education would do for me, she was fully aware that not having one would limit the choices you have in life. To understand that takes wisdom.

She had little education; she had a lot of wisdom.

Music and Lyrics and Dance

Since I’ve met you, the music has been there
It’s obvious there is something special that we share
Our destination? Babe, I really don’t know where
But let’s add the lyrics and dance

I love you and my heart is so on fire
And you know, it is only you who I desire
The tune is sweet and its melody inspires
So let’s add the lyrics and dance

As we sway to and fro to our special love song
We’ll hold each other close and know that we are strong
And you’ll know in my arms is where you naturally belong
When we add the lyrics and dance

Years from now, when we look upon this time
We’ll laugh and cry remembering this little rhyme
How it helped us through our uphill climb
Because we added the lyrics and danced

How do you look at it?

The difference between winning and losing can hang on a delicate thread.

Those who have followed this blog faithfully will know that I have enjoyed softball very much. I have been an Ontario champion three times and a finalist twice. I have also been an Alberta champion and a finalist once.

In every case, each team was capable of winning the championship. All of these teams had talented players.

What I noticed through the years was the attitude we adopted before playing in the final series.

When we won, we concentrated on how we were going to win.

When we lost, we focused on not trying to lose.

Now, you might say that not losing and winning are the same thing. When you are talking about your state of mine, they aren’t however. One anticipates victory. The other doesn’t.

My Grade 7 Gym Teacher

Inspiration comes in many shapes and sizes. He was a gym teacher who helped shape me into the person I am today.

From the very beginning, it was very clear that there was no nonsense with him. At our very first gym class, he worked us like race horses. By the end of the period, we were drenched in sweat. Then came the order, “Everybody into the showers.” My family was modest, very modest, yet I didn’t hesitate to obey. Today, this wouldn’t happen. I don’t think students take showers at all, yet I remember feeling fresh in class after a good workout. In fact, one teacher mentioned to the class that he preferred my coming late to class after gym, because I didn’t contribute to the stink like the others.

While this was an important moment in my life, getting over the fear of being naked in a crowd, he did something that changed my life even more.

One day he came into health class and announced to everyone that he was creating the Fat Boys’ Club. It would meet at the same time as the gymnastics club at 8 am on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Membership was not voluntary. In fact, there were only two people who were going to have the privilege of being in this club, me and Alan.

I remember the moment when my name was announced. I felt like a searchlight had been shone upon me. I wanted to escape, but there was nowhere to go. I just sat there, stunned and hiding the hurt and shame as best I could.

Dutifully, I showed up each morning at the appointed time. Alan did, too. My mom asked me why I was going so early. I mumbled something about gymnastics, not wanting to let my mom know what the truth was.

Then puberty hit.

I remember the period that he put all the mats on the floor and the whole class participated in what could be best called group sumo wrestling. Bodies were flung off the mats until there were only two people, me and Steve. Steve was one of the tough guys in the school. I, definitely, was not. However, I was a tad smarter and got him into a position where I could thrust him off the mats. Everyone stood in shock, but none more than my gym teacher. I remember just glaring at him, not in hatred, but with immense satisfaction.

For gymnastics, he decided to show us how to do a neck spring off the side horse. He needed a volunteer. Why he chose me I’m not sure. I am not good at gymnastics. I ended up in a heap on the floor. Again, I just glared at him.

I tried out for the foot ball team. He was the coach.

There were just enough uniforms for everyone, except one of the pants had two left kidney pads, which meant one protruded awkwardly from side and didn’t really do the job. I was the one who got these pants.

Our team colours were red and white, but we didn’t have enough red sweaters. Some of us had to wear blue ones with sleeveless red t-shirts over top. I was always one of those selected.

My position was substitute centre. I had to play against people who weighed at least 20 pounds more than I did. I would snap the ball and be smashed back 5 yards or so. I remember learning how to do a cross-body block. I can tell you that it isn’t very effective against tanks. I’m sure you could see the cleat marks on my sweater.

In practice, we played a game called train. Two people ran towards each other and the one with the ball was supposed to run over the other player, who was supposed to tackle the runner. I don’t know how it happened, but I always seemed to get the big guys on the team. I felt that I had to tackle wild elephants time after time. And I did, but the gym teacher didn’t approve. Something didn’t impress him, so I kept on getting more of the same, except once. Somehow Jim, the quarterback, got in the line and faced me. Being used to tackling the wild gorillas, I stuck it to him good and cracked 3 of his ribs.

Many years later at a softball team reunion, Jim told me that the gym teacher asked him if he help him understand who I was. He said he had been doing everything possible to try to get me to quit the team, but I just kept coming back for more. I refused to give up.

One day the gym teacher wasn’t at the morning football practice. The other gym teacher was. We just had a game of touch football. I caught three touchdown passes. It was obvious I was in the wrong position at substitute centre, however, nothing changed with this. We found out later my tormentor was forced to quit. Apparently he got into a little trouble with the law.

In case you wondered, Alan, the other Fat Boys’ Club member, is now a successful lawyer. I, too, have led a very interesting life.

I think a lot of people would understand if I talked about how being put in the Fat Boys’ Club destroyed me. Don’t get me wrong, it did hurt. I was humiliated in front of my classmates at an age where you are sensitive about your appearance. I chose to take that hurt and stand up and conquer it. There are times when defeat just isn’t an option. This was one of them. And I am so much stronger for the experience. You see, in life you are going to find situations where people don’t treat you well. Often, like this case, you will have no idea why. You can choose to be powerless or to do something about it, but you have to make that choice.

You may be thinking

You may be thinking I'm rushing things
You may be thinking I'm going too fast
Though timing isn't my strength right now
Whatever I've got will last

You may be wondering just who I am
You may be saying that you don't know me
I don't know you, but I know one thing
My loving is quality

And just like crazy glue
I'm stuck on you
The bond never breaks
As long as it takes
As long as you can start it
You can't pull apart it
Hold on to me dear
I'll hold on to you

I may be thinking too much right now
And seeing right now as a time in the past
But can't you see that I'm in love with you
And whatever I've got will last.

Things must change

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
Eleanor Roosevelt, 'This Is My Story,' 1937

They are spat upon. They are sworn at. They are physically assaulted. They are victims of the Internet. They are threatened. They are treated with great indignity.

Who are these people? Teachers.

I have met many teachers in my life. As an occasional teacher, I go from school to school. Almost without exception, teachers are some of the most dedicated workers in any profession. Most of them want to help make the world a better place.

So what’s the problem? In many classes and many schools, there isn’t much of a problem at all. However, in some there is a huge problem.

To start, parenting skills in today’s society are sadly lacking. Again, it may be a minority, but put two or three kids in a room who have no respect for authority and everyone suffers. In some cases, the kids rule the classroom or the school. Why? The teacher has little power to deal with the situation. Often, the principal and the administration above provide very little support.

In Ontario, a child can do absolutely nothing and be promoted to the next grade. There is no such thing as failure. There is no such thing as a late assignment. What skills are we teaching our children for the working world?

Really, should there be schools where there are armed police at the entries? What have we allowed to happen to our society?

So how do teachers cope with the situation? Just like some parents, they try to be friends with the students instead of friendly. Sometimes they become too close of a friend. Sometimes they quit.

What can be done? We have to teach students that there are consequences to actions, good and bad. If you don’t do the work, then you have an option. You can repeat the year or spend part of the summer doing the work you didn’t do during the year. The student can pick the poison, but there is a consequence for poor work.

Secondly, teachers need to draw a line in the sand and stand together. If something wrong happens in a colleague’s class, then it happens to everyone. The attitude of gratitude that it isn’t happening to you must go. The staff at a school must act as a team. If it means filing a protest, going to the media or refusing to teach, something must be done to let everyone know that there is a problem. The response has to be calculated and well thought out to prevent a wrong impression or a backlash, but something must be done. Teachers just can’t sit and take it any longer.

Most teachers belong to a union. It needs to get involved to protect its members. It seems more occupied with protecting rights of fringe groups than protecting the majority of its members. It’s not that minority rights aren’t important, but there are higher priorities. Providing a positive climate for teaching is one of them.

Parents need to get more involved in schools. If you are a parent, how do you feel that another parent’s kid is robbing yours of a good education and an opportunity to lead a fruitful life? If you don’t like it, what are you going to do about it? You are an important part of the equation. The parents of the trouble makers are often in denial, just like alcoholics, and blame the teachers for their kids’ attitude.

Hoping the situation will go away by itself just isn’t a good option any more.

Read the first paragraph after the quote again. What profession would allow its clients to treat its members this way? Lawyers wouldn’t. Doctors wouldn’t. Heck, bag boys at the local grocery store wouldn’t. The only two that come to mind are prison guards and soldiers. And, believe it or not, there are many similarities to people who work in these institutions and some schools.

Why not hug a teacher today? Oops, that’s not allowed in the schools anymore, either, as much as they need affirmation that they are doing a good job in spite of it all.

There’s one born every minute

Spam! We all hate it, but we all get it. There must be a reason people keep sending it out. There must people who actually believe some of the garbage that comes across their desk. Maybe it is true.

Maybe there is somebody who made millions by helping some Nigerian, Chinese or other person get money out of their country.

I imagine there is somebody out there who had university degrees from institutions all over the world.

These might be the same people who profited from a scheme Bill Gates cooked up to give them money if they forwarded a message to all their friends. They did it on the Dell computer they got for free for doing a similar deed.

Of course, there are the people who have made a killing on the stock market with the timely advice they have received from some unknown expert. They earn their money from the Sydney Car Care Specialist people.

Finally, there is some soul out there who has responded to every ad on how to satisfy every woman in the world. His penis is about 3 metres long and he has learned every technique in the book.

It’s funny, but there are people who are arguing that the Internet must stay totally free of control. I’m sure that they feel the same way about trying to limit pollution. That is what spam is. I remember the good old days in the 1980s when few people had email. The only messages you got were those from people you knew.

Anyway, for those of you who send me messages encouraging me to send messages on if I love Jesus or I want my wish to come true or I don’t want something bad to happen, I don’t do it. Before you send me something for a worth cause or a missing child or somebody wanting postcards, check it out. How difficult is it to put “internet” and “hoax” in a search engine and look at the result? It must be very difficult, because some very intelligent people get caught all the time.

Oh, by the way, copy this message and send it to 10 people and your wish will come true in 10 minutes.

The Unmotivational Speaker

I started writing this blog as a result of having a couple of articles published for Bob Proctor. He has built a career around coaching and motivating people. I enjoy the story he puts out every Friday.

When I am particularly impressed with somebody’s writing, I click on the hyperlink and read a bit more about them. More often than not, I see the words “motivational speaker”.

It seems that there are many motivational speakers today. If an athlete wins a medal at the Olympics, he becomes a motivational speaker. The way I see it, there must be a pile of motivational speakers out there.

Funny, but when I was younger, I don’t remember there being any motivational speakers. Didn’t we need to be motivated in those days? Why do we need to be constantly motivated today?

For a short time, I had a colleague live with me. This guy was into every bit of motivational material he could get. He changed gurus like people fill up their cars with gas. When the tank was empty, he would go to the next service station and fill up.

When I was asked to give a credit for my articles, I mentioned something about looking for my next adventure, which led to a lot of pyramid scheme builders contacting me (or as they prefer to say it, multi-level marketing). What I didn’t say was that I was a motivational speaker.

Don’t get me wrong. I hope that I brighten everyone’s day. I am happy when I do. I just don’t know how I will know that I have arrived at the place where I can call myself a motivational speaker.

Perhaps it is because I am not “up” every single day. Sometimes I feel like somebody on skates for the first time. There are times I feel downright negative and frustrated. Do I ever get confused? You bet. Do I ever want to quit? Yes.

So, since there are so many motivational speakers out there, I have decided that I am going to be an unmotivational speaker. People attending my seminars won’t rush out the door wanting to conquer the world. Rather than build them up, I will tear them down. I will tell them that success is not within their grasp. I will fill them so full of negative thoughts that they will make at least three other people miserable when they leave. They may even kick a dog or two.

I don’t think anyone will hire me, though. You see, while there are many motivational speakers out there, there are far more unmotivational speakers. My idea is not so unique after all. The world is always telling you that it can’t be done.

I remember a professor in university telling me that I shouldn’t be able to work full time at a job and go to university full time. My response was, “It is people like you who make comments like that who motivate me to do what I do.”

So, it all boils down to this. In your life you are a motivational speaker or an unmotivational speaker. And you can listen to those who encourage or those who discourage. The choice is yours.

Thoughts on Teaching and Learning

Teaching can be so rewarding. It can also be so frustrating.

There are days when the lessons you teach are like putting post-it notes on the refrigerator. You stick them on, expecting them to stay there. When you come back the next day, most of them are gone. So you start putting some new ones up, hoping that they will stick this time. Some do, some don’t. You keep trying new ways to get them to stick, hoping that keeping at it will eventually work.

Another thing I have to remind myself is that people learn at different rates. Too often I figure that I am in a small power boat, able to turn on a dime, when, in fact, trying to teach a classroom of students is trying to steer the Queen Mary.

We want people to change their habits quickly. I remember taking in psychology classes in university about shaping. Unfortunately, I sometimes get out the chainsaw and go at it instead of gently rubbing with sandpaper. The result is somebody who resists or is left in shock.

I should remember that it is always better to lead than to push. General H. Norman Schwarzkopf, the US commander in chief of the Gulf War, showed his true leadership and the respect of his men when he risked his own life in Viet Nam to save men under his command trapped in a minefield.

I have found that if I can get in a position where I can honestly praise and encourage my students, the results are far better. Hours of learning can be destroyed by a negative experience. Almost everyone agrees that making mistakes is part of the learning process, but if we make the student afraid of trying for fear of making that mistake, then learning will be difficult.

There is so much to consider when you are teaching, especially in today’s world where the amount of knowledge is growing so fast. It’s hard to prepare the current generation for the future when there is no assurance what that future will be like.

Reach Out

Each night I fight
As I try to write
My love for you
I sit alone and struggle
As I weigh each word and juggle
I crumple up my paper and start anew
My ink can only whisper
What my body wants to shout

Reach out
And touch me with your loving
Reach out
And show you really care
Give back
All I have to give you
Instead of backing off
And pretending I’m not there

Some days I die
As I try and try
To catch your eye
Can’t you see you make me crazy
How you treat me does amaze me
I only walk away and ask myself why
My every little action
Seems to stutter coming out

Reach out
And touch me with your loving
Reach out
And show you really care
Give back
All I have to give you
Instead of backing off
And pretending I’m not there