Resetting the Bar

Expectations can color someone's entire experience of a situation.  For example, there's a stop light near my house that Gracie fondly calls "The Silly Stoplight" (this is a misnomer, but the name Jon and I have given the stoplight is much less family-friendly).  Anyway, I can expect that when I drive to the nearest major intersection to my house, I will have to wait at The Silly Stoplight for approximately two minutes and fifteen seconds.  I have had a lifetime of visits to Grandma's house, sitting at The Stoplight just before getting there, to know that it's a reasonable expectation that The Silly Stoplight will halt my forward motion when I get close to it.  It's Silly.  While annoyed by The Silly Stoplight, my family and I also regard it like a Crazy Aunt Cathy--that's just how she is, so let it go.  That's our family's Stoplight Standard.

However, despite the long-standing expectation that The Silly Stoplight will keep us waiting virtually every time, there have been some times that the Stoplight Cosmos has decided to randomly bend the laws of Stoplight Psychosis and cause The Silly Stoplight to remain green when I approach it.  It's never predictable.  Those days are like winning the lottery.  Really, there is not much exaggeration surrounding the joy I feel when I'm not stuck at that....Silly...Stoplight.  Then, my day is much more beautiful-seeming.  Cartoon birds follow me to work.  Then, on the way back home on those days when my stoplight expectations have been surpassed, inevitably The Silly Stoplight proves that our original Stoplight Standard was accurate; I get stuck at the light, and I fume.  I spit and sputter because dang it! it rose above my expectations only nine and a half hours ago!  I'm even madder than I would have been had I been stopped for the compulsory minutes in the morning as I had expected.

What I've found out, though, is that after sailing through the light in the morning, I have already re-evaluated my expectations and set a new expectation for my return trip from work.  My new expectation is that The Stoplight is not such a douche bag after all.  The Stoplight wants to let me through, in fact!  That's a much more pleasant expectation anyway!  Yes, my brain wants to believe that it is now true that The Stoplight will have mercy on me.  I'd rather believe that!  Alas, after days of cartoon birds and spitting and sputtering, I have learned over time that my expectation that I'll always make it through that light is unrealistic.  It doesn't stop me from hoping for it, though.

I'm noticing lots of areas in my day, in fact, that setting expectations incorrectly can lead to quite the celebrations and quite the turmoil.  I caught a student purposely violating our school's dress code by rolling her shorts such that they looked like junderwear (okay, if jean-type leggings are "jeggings", then...you get it now).  I asked her to unroll her shorts as she passed by, and she unrolled with great care as she continued to walk away, glancing back at me very (not) innocently.  My expectation in the situation was that she was probably going to roll them back up later and get away with her cheekiness because she wasn't going to see me again in all likelihood that day.  In fact, I'm guessing that was her expectation, as well, because she had a look of horror and devastation on her face when she walked past me later and I sent her to the office.  Her simple expectation, and the situation that violated it, really caused some turmoil!  On the other hand, the violation of my expectation caused me to celebrate a victory over all middle school defiance and awkward sexiness attempts!  Our expectations were inaccurate, and it turned out to be very bad, and very good (respectively).

Toddlers are great living examples of setting unrealistic expectations and seeing the consequences of this almost immediately.  Zeke, for example, tends to expect that using his new-found vocabulary means that his parents will obey him.  Immediately.  He says "I walkkkk," his feet should touch the floor within ten seconds.  He says "Pees," we should hand him candy.  He says "Dabadi," we should [whatever the heck that means at the time].  He's learning steadily, and not without tears and screeching might I add, that his expectations aren't always reasonable.  Sometimes they are, such as when he wants to "walkkkk" in the back yard, or when he's asking for more milk at dinner, or just about any time he makes a request and the timing and circumstances are right.  The hard part about his expectations, and his process of discovering how to set them and reset them, is that for most things in life, expectations can't be fixed.  They are fluid, depending on the state of the world, or the state of the people involved, or even the state of the stoplight.  It takes a fine-tuned brain to be able to evaluate the practicality of an expectation and a fine-tuned heart to figure out what to do when an expectation isn't as practical as once thought.  It's hard!  It causes crying and screeching.

So here I am, currently evaluating my expectations.  I'm fairly stubborn by nature, so, as illustrated with the stoplight example from earlier, once I have had success, that bar of performance tends to be my new expectation for myself.

It gets worse.

When someone else reaches success, I reset my expectations for myself to meet their level of performance.

It gets worse.

When someone tells me they think I can do something, or when I start fancying a new idea or problem to solve, I reset my expectations for myself to meet that only-speculated-about (and not yet real) level of performance.  Case in point, I currently have set the following expectations of myself:

• I will take a group of high schoolers to camp to participate in a camp counselor leadership program that I'll be leading (and change their lives forever)
• I will take a group of eighth graders to camp to participate in a counselor-in-training leadership program that I'll be leading (and change their lives forever)
• I will take a group of seventh graders into my classroom, teach them a curriculum that is foreign to me with perfection (and change their lives forever)
• I will be part of a committee that will build a peaceful community of staff and students (and change their lives forever)
• I will be part of a committee that will be scholarly in our study of our content area, be revolutionary in its work for the district, and be impressive to the Board of Education (and change their lives forever)
• I will be a good teacher, teammate, colleague, friend, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister, sister-in-law, mother, wife, Catholic, and general citizen of our country and possibly global community (and change all of those people's lives forever, too). 

It gets worse.

When I don't meet my own expectations, I freak out.

Hmm.  That makes me one Silly Someone who will never, ever meet all of the expectations I place on myself (and consequently will spend my life, or until I reset my expectations, freaking out).  But resetting expectations is a painful process for me.  Since my expectations are insanely high, resetting my expectations means lowering the bar, and then what?  Achieve less?  Appear weak?  Watch opportunities fly by while the world forgets you were once there?  I'd like to blame society or politics or something for this deep-seated feeling of insecurity, and I'm sure some Freudian investigation into my childhood might produce some answers, but there's not much point in dwelling on why my expectations aren't reasonable.  It's probably better to spend time thinking about what realistic is for me, and using that support system that's come out of the woodwork in the last week to know that it's safe to reset.

I can't promise that the resetting that's about to happen won't produce cartoon birds on some days and fuming on others.  Some days when I'm particularly in danger of not meeting my own expectations, my claws will be so deeply gouged into the stratospheric bar I've set that I'll be panicky if you suggest I let go.  However, I'm thinking I'll finally get some rest when I've deemed it's reasonable to do so.

Right now, rest is looking pretty good.

Changing the World One Facebook Status at a Time

Facebook has had just a tiny bit of poison lately.  Sometimes I've left it feeling heavy.  The best way I can describe it is just feeling a shade darker than I did before I looked at it, like I might feel after an unintentional insensitive remark from an acquaintance or friend.  It's not like my Facefriends are angry people, and it's not that anyone has actually directed any insensitive remarks toward me, or said anything deliberately hurtful.  The nature of Facebook is that I can read volumes of comments daily--probably hundreds if I'm particularly dedicated--which also means that I just absorb a ton of gunk.  Breakfast menus, frustrations in traffic, baby milestones, vacation views, political stances, reactions to the world...I soak up everything that's out there, the good, the bad, the ugly, and the very ugly.  Sometimes, it's enough to make me feel darker.

I can't say how many times someone inadvertently insulted me, or hurt me, by posting something on Facebook.  I think that I have been lumped in various groups of designated idiots and a-holes just because I share a belief with someone else.  Reading someone else's opinion on something is not enough to hurt me, but for some reason, Facebook seems to be the place where an opinion can acceptably be paired with an insult or sarcastic mockery.  As a person who is working tirelessly, sometimes with very little result it seems, to eliminate this behavior from young teenagers, I worry about what we are willing to say about each other for the sake of getting a strong reaction from others.  The "Like" button is a double-edged sword...it is encouragement at its best, and endorsement of poor ethical behavior at worst.  No matter what, it's motivation for making reaction-worthy statements in cyberspace.  At times, people feel most confident getting a reaction from negative, destructive statements that can tear down a large number of people at one fell swoop.  I see this every day in middle school, by the way.  We call it bullying.  You don't have to call it that if it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Which leads me to think: perhaps if I feel darker, heavier, maybe someone else does, too.  Maybe hundreds.  Maybe thousands.  In fact, I'm betting that a good portion of Facebook/social media users have been unintentionally hurt by their own friends or even family on Facebook by posts that have negative, insulting slants to them.  I'm betting that a good portion of Facebook/social media users have posted something at one point or another that was destructive to another human being.  Additionally, I'm betting that most of us were taught to have manners and be respectful to others by our parents and grandparents.  Then again, we had to look people in the face when we were using our good manners.  It's different when our words can hang there, suspended, isn't it?  It's different when our audience is likely to be supportive of what we say and show us by bestowing us with "Likes" and emoticons.  It's different when we can't visualize the other hundreds of people who are virtually staring at us as we say our impulsive quips.  Isn't it time that we call ourselves on the very same behavior that we love to pin on adolescents as "bullying"?  Isn't it time that we give ourselves a little bit of rest and peace from the dark? 

Maybe I have thin skin.  My dad always told me I'm too sensitive.  I'll invite you to jump on his bandwagon only after I reiterate that I am not looking for a sterilization of opinions and statuses.  I'm calling for a refocus on general manners on social media.  Humor me for a second while I propose a new guidebook for Facebook etiquette.

The Guide to Facebook Etiquette:

1.  Build someone up. 

Actually, that's it.  If you do nothing else on Facebook, make sure that whatever you post, whatever you say, is deliberately trying to build someone up.  Bring happiness, not destruction.  Protest in action, not in scathing remarks.  Address problems face-to-face, not in text on a screen that has no face.   Think, think, think before you put it all out there, because you never know who just became labored with your impulsive remarks.  Facebook is like lightning; no matter what you post, it will reach hundreds more people a hundred times faster.  Yep, that's every bit as much power in your hands as it sounded.  Don't be tempted to send poison into the hearts of those who read your thoughts when you could literally bring happiness to hundreds with a simple change of word and intention.  As I ask my students in my classroom to do as a rule of thumb when they walk in the door:  Be kind.  Be happy.  Take care of each other.

Let's just own it.  Let's put into action our passions, put into practice our compassion, put love into our words at every post.  My precious-beyond-explanation, impressionable students are watching.  And our hearts, all of our hearts, need lifting.

Ode to August 1

Bring it on.

Bust into my classroom laughing too loudly.  Bumble down the hallways on the legs you grew over the summer without noticing who you just body-checked.  Allow Sharpied unicorns and fairies to dance over your folders while you experiment with profanity on the bathroom walls.  Complain to me about your parents, and then complain about me at lunch.  Forget your pencil again, and again, and again.  Flirt shamelessly in front of me and then blush when I call you on it.  Laugh out loud when someone comments on your outfit, and sink in your desk the rest of the day.  Wear Cookie Monster on your T-shirt and "Leave me alone" on your face.  Wear "Leave me alone" on your face and hug me when I ask how you are. 

Make me have at least three back-to-school nightmares that portray me as helpless in a room of thirteen-year-olds. Make me mask my intimidation on the first day of school while you mask yours.  Make me agonize over a lesson plan only to toss it out and "wing it" when I see question marks in your eyes.  Make me sing with joy and tear my hair out while grading one class set of papers.  While grading one paper.  Make me find the perfect book for you (and then make me have to work to peel you away from it).  Make me wonder if we're connecting the whole year.  Make me cry at least once in front of my colleagues, at least five times at home.  Make me do back flips to keep your attention, and make my heart glad when you raise your hand.  Make me think I know how you learn, and then make me rethink it.  Make me teach you the best way I know how and still not be satisfied.  Make me learn for you.

Keep me awake at night.  Keep me alive during the day.  I'm ready.  Bring it on.