Tag Archives: Life Lessons

A lesson taught with dignity and respect

My grandfather, Leon Bernstein or ‘Papa B’ as he was known, was an amazing man. As I shared at his funeral:

Papa B. is a Giant!

Like many of you, I know this because he told me so.
Papa wasn’t boasting when he said this, he was just telling you the way it is. If you were to measure a man by the legacy he leaves behind Papa would come as big as they get. In this way he is still a giant and always will be.

Here is a lesson that he taught me, wrapped inside of another lesson. It speaks to his character, and to the kind of person I want to be, that I strive to be. It’s a lesson he taught me when I was about 14 years old.

It happened at a family gathering at our house, it was the weekend and both sets of grandparents and a few aunts and uncles were over. It wasn’t a special occasion, our family often connected without a specific reason. I specifically know that it wasn’t a special occasion because I went for a bike ride with a couple friends, and if it was a special occasion, like a birthday, I would have had to stay at the celebration.

When I finished my ride, just before dinner, I came home and I remember that I was going very fast. I reached my driveway and I didn’t slow down. I made the sharp turn on my neighbour’s shared driveway and kept my speed up as I headed to the garage. But at the speed I was going I couldn’t make the turn and I hit Papa B’s car. My handlebar scraped across the car door leaving a scratch longer than a ruler, over 12 inches or 30cm. Then I fell to the pavement and scraped me knee.

It wasn’t a bad scape but standing up I looked at the scrape on me knee and then the large scratch on my grandfather’s car and I started to cry. I went into the house crying and I told my story of riding up the driveway and hitting the car. I didn’t admit to going too fast.

A few adults came outside to look at the car. I still had tears in my eyes as we looked at the large scratch on the front passenger car door. There was a remark about how big it was and the tears flowed. My grandfather spoke up, “It’s all right boy, the important thing is you weren’t hurt. Your knee will heal and the scratch can be fixed. All good.”

And with that we all went inside, me hobbling with exaggeration behind everyone that came outside. I got a bandaid from my mom, and the scratch on the car wasn’t mentioned again that night. I had convinced myself when I scraped the car that I was going to get in big trouble, but my grandfather said it wasn’t important, what was important was that I was ok. It was ‘All good’.

A couple days later Papa B came over and he asked me to come outside. He took me by the hand, something only he could do to a 14 year old in a way that felt natural. Holding hands was something Papa B did with all his grandkids. We walked to the passenger side of the car and he pointed. “See that,” he said pointing to the scratch I had made. “The scratch is horizontal. You were going too fast. If you were going a safe speed, the scratch would have pointed down as the bike fell, but you turned too fast and this scratch tells me so. It’s ok, I know it was a mistake, but I wanted you to know that I know you were going too fast.”

That was it. We went inside and it was never mentioned again.

This has shaped the way I have spoken as a teacher to students in my class, and now as a principal to students in my office. Papa knew all along, but he didn’t want to share this in front of an audience. He waited and taught me a lesson with dignity and respect. It’s easy to be angry and heated and forget to be like this.

That isn’t to say that I always choose to deal with things this way. And sometimes it’s good for students to see you upset, or disappointed with some emotion. But my default is to strive to be like Papa B. To choose a moment that isn’t public. To be gentle and respectful, but also to face the issue rather than let it pass.

Students make mistakes. People make mistakes. I make mistakes. When I remember this story, I remember that how we react to a mistake can be as much of a lesson as the lesson the mistake has to offer. Others deserve the same respect that my Papa B gave to me.

Be the designer of your world and not merely a consumer of it

I love this quote by James Clear in his book Atomic Habits. While I’m not big on platitudes, I think this invites more thought and conversation:

“Be the designer of your world and not merely a consumer of it.” ~ James Clear

How many times in a day are we faced with a decision where we passively acquiesce and do what is expected or what is easy rather than taking control and making a choice? The potato chips are easy to grab; The second last attempt on the last set of a workout suddenly becomes the last attempt; The rude person at work says something inappropriate, but you let it slide; The student who knows the answer but doesn’t raise their hand; The 5 minute check of social media becomes 25 minutes of scrolling; the ‘Next Episode’ counts down on Netflix and you let it start.

How many moments are there in a day that can be chosen rather than consumed ‘as usual’? We are the designers of our lives… or at least we should be.

Adding a little extra

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a recipe where the amount of garlic ‘recommended’ wasn’t less than I wanted to (and probably did) put in. My whole family loves garlic and despite adding more garlic than suggested, in our house a meal has never been ruined by too much garlic. You can’t say the same for salt, or dill, or oregano.

Some things you can add a little extra, some things you can’t:

You can add some genuine compliments, be careful how much criticism you add.

You can add generosity generously, but just a pinch of selfishness.

You can add copious amounts of love, but only a sprinkling of animosity.

There isn’t any one recipe for living a good life, and so the ingredients we choose to put in can be played with… if we are thoughtful and liberally creative with the right ingredients, we can end up with delicious results!

Starting with yourself

“To you love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” Oscar Wilde

This quote was said in my daily meditation today on the Calm App. It struck me as something that is so easy to forget. We strive to be better. We are never satisfied with where and who we are. We want to be better, fitter, thinner, wiser, more in control, less wasteful, happier, kinder, more than we are.

This striving to be more than we are is good… as long as we are also happy with who we are right now. Without acceptance of ourselves we can’t be our best selves. Say that out loud and let it sink in:

“Without acceptance of ourselves we can’t be our best selves.”

Who admires you most? See yourself through their eyes for just a moment… Now let that moment linger for a while. Celebrate who you are. You don’t have to share that you are doing this with anyone, but if you honestly do this, you will be putting your best self forward into the world.

What’s the third option?

It can be hard to make a tough choice. There are things that happen that can make you think, ‘Damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.” It might not always be a lose-lose situation, but it can be a situation where there seems to be no easy or good way forward.

What’s the third option?

This third option doesn’t have to be the answer. This third option can be worse than the original two options, (as long as it is a legitimate option). Giving yourself a third option removes the challenging dichotomy of the two original options. It removes your ability to put the first two options on a metaphorical scale, where these two options seemed equally balanced. The third option might be better, but even if it’s not it might create a comparison that lets you see the other two options in a new light. One of the original options might then seem better or worse than it did before.

This works great when dealing with students. When given a tough choice, some students make the good choice, others might choose to be defiant and choose the more painful choice as an act of defiance. Give that same student a third choice and they are less likely to choose the defiant option because there isn’t one other choice to be defiant against.

I’ve used this strategy many times with kids, but I sometimes forget that it’s a valuable strategy to use myself.

Stuck deciding between two tough choices? Ask yourself, ‘What’s a third choice?’

Advice to a younger me

My youngest daughter turns 18 today. She graduates high school in June.

I’m writing this in the same living room my wife and I sat in before taking her to the hospital for my daughters delivery. The same living where that happened for my older daughter who is now 20. The furniture has changed, our cars have changed, my hairline has changed. Our kids have grown up. I feel relatively the same.

Sure my aches and pains take longer to heal. I have memories that have faded. I see lines in my face that were not there before. I seem to have lost certain memories. But I feel the same. I feel like less time has passed. I feel like two decades have raced by.

Have you ever wondered, if you could go back in time and tell yourself something, what would you say? What would you say to the younger version of you?

I’d say, “Commit both time and attention to things at the same time.”

That’s all. I wouldn’t want to say anything else other than ‘be more present’. Of course this is advice I could and should take now. After all, if the last two decades blinked by, that’s a pretty strong suggestion that the next two might go just as quick, or faster.

Smile with your eyes

There is a huge difference between smiling by simply raising the edges to your mouth, and getting your whole face, or even your whole body involved.

When your expression is positively contagious everyone wins.

The next time you smile, remember to smile with your eyes.

Undermining Self-Sabotage

It’s amazing how much people undermine themselves:

  • The dieter with tons of food they shouldn’t eat in the house.
  • The person with a deadline watching one, or two, or three more tv show before getting to work.
  • The victim of bullying seeking negative attention that makes them an easier target.
  • The emotionally struggling person finding friends that needs rescuing and more support than they can healthily give.
  • A perfectionist placing such high demands on themselves that they can do nothing well.
  • The stressed who relate everything they do to stress, so stress is always on their minds.

Here are two quotes from James Clear’s book, Atomic Habits:

You should be far more concerned with your current trajectory than with your current results.

And;

You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.

The things we do, and the plans and systems we put in place, and the habits we develop here and now are what determine the outcomes we are heading towards. Part of self-sabotage is looking forward and not believing we can achieve our goals, so why make the effort? The targets are too big, or too far away.

It’s the small thing that you can do today that move you to a bigger goal. Small, repeatable things that become habits. These small things undermine self-sabotage. When you surround yourself with small positive, incremental changes, your trajectory changes, and the people around you notice. Maybe it’s possible that you can help change the trajectory of others around you as well? Undermine self-sabotage by making small positive changes can be contagious.

Going the extra inch

I think this idea came from Terry O’Reilly’s book, ‘This I know’, but I listened to it a couple years ago and am not 100% sure? The idea is to go the extra inch, rather than the extra mile.

The easiest place to see this in customer service. The cashier who takes a little extra care in bagging your items. The waiter who tops up your water glass before you need to ask. The hot dog vendor who asks if you’d like your bun toasted. The hotel front desk clerk who asks if you’d like a city map with local restaurants, or who remembers your name the next time you see them.

So many people talk about going the extra mile, but really it’s just an extra inch that can make the difference, (or for that matter the extra centimetre). It doesn’t often take much work or effort to make someone’s day, to provide better than average service, or to simply be accommodating to someone you love and care about.

A kind gesture, a simple change in tone, a thoughtful question, a smile. It’s not about going terribly far out of your own way, it’s simply going the extra inch.

What I find interesting is that it’s often easier to do this with strangers rather than those you are around daily. We seem to take advantage of our relationships and not make the extra inch of effort with people we spend time with every day. Instead, we are quicker to snap a response, or to be snide, or just impatient. We feel like the extra inch is actually an extra mile.

It’s not. In this way, life is a game of inches, and it’s much more fun when we are able to see this and just go that extra inch for those that can do the same for us more frequently, because we are around them more often.

Rhythm and Rapport

I felt it. I mean I really felt it. A rhythmic wave resonated throughout my body. Before this moment I had enjoyed music but I never had it consume me so completely. And I was surrounded by others who felt the same way.

It was the early summer of 1992, and I was 24 years old. My uncle had introduced me to an NLP teacher, paying for me to take his course, and I loved it. NLP or Neuro Linguistic Programming is about harnessing communication patterns, that we all use, in more effective and powerful ways. The course I was in was very interesting because it seemed as if half the people were there to learn to be more effective and the other half seemed to be there for therapy.

The 9-day course started on a Saturday and ran daily from 8am to 4pm through the week and into the second weekend. It was the Friday morning and we were told we were in for a treat. We were taken to a small room filled with drums, shakers, tambourines, cow bells and assorted traditional music makers. The lesson was on rapport and we were going to use music to demonstrate it.

I think there were about 18 of us in this small room and we were broken up into groups of 2, 3, and 4, depending on the number of similar instruments. I don’t remember if we ended up with 5 or 6 groups. Next, each group was given a different beat to play. For instance, the cow bell players got tap-tap, tap-tap, pause, tap-tap, while a few drummers got a beat of 1-2, 1-2-3, 1-2-3-4, 1-2. That second example would have been the most complicated of the options with most others being quite simple.

We got counted down and everyone started playing their own beat in their groupings. As someone that doesn’t have musical training, it was good to have other people playing the same beat as me so that I could follow along and not be too distracted by the other groups. That said it was a ruckus in this small room. To put it kindly, we were making noise, horrible and loud clattering, pounding, clanging, dinging noise. It was awful.

I understood that we were supposed to build rapport and the music was somehow supposed to come together but it didn’t. There was just noise. We switched instruments and tried again. Noise. We switched beats. Noise. We switched instruments again, and I was given cow bells. More noise.

We were tired, and we were overwhelmed with the echo of instruments clamouring out of synch, and then something interesting happened. A professional dance instructor that was taking the course had a big gourd shaker in his hand, he stepped forward into the middle of our circle and connected with an older man on drums. This older gentleman that the dancer connected with was a retired music teacher. They sped up the beat slightly and I could hear their individual beats come together as if they were one pattern. The dancer with the gourd shaker was dancing to their beat and my beat fell into synch with his feet.

That was the moment it happened for me, and it was obvious that it was happening for everyone else in the room… our noise became music. But this was so much more than music, it was a wave of sound that reverberated through my body. I watched the dancer and realized that his gourd and feet were the backbone of the beat. We were all following his lead. Then I looked at the retired musician’s drum and I realized that it was him driving the beat. Then I looked at my cow bells and realized it was me that was leading the beat. Then I really understood what was happening. We were in perfect unison, we were one.

None of us were in the lead. All of us were in the lead. This was full rapport. We were all connected, all one beat, all one musical experience. We built up the sound to a full crescendo, it was all-consuming, bordering on ecstasy. There was a countdown, 3-2-1, and we all stopped playing. The instant silence was a final exclamation on an overwhelmingly beautiful experience. For the first time in my life I had felt, truly and to my core felt, the sound of music.