My college teacher,
Gerry Bruce, once told us once with a smile that he didn’t have to prepare any
lessons for our class: By our actions
we generated so many teachable moments. This was for our leadership 201 “how to lead a meeting” class, for in
case we found jobs in a small town, and had to facilitate a community meeting.
It seems to me,
likewise, that from my actions this
week I could come up with my weekly essay topic, even as I am earnestly trying
to generate a serious list of future blog files. If so, then my most
instructive action of the last week has been a tiny fender bender. Ouch! I was
slowly backing up and I hit a Nissan Pathfinder. To avoid any vested interest
in being defensive I won’t write about the actual accident. To me, what are
most interesting are the various “human factors.”
I have to smile: It’s
strange how our young scientists, by coming up with new insights into physics,
chemistry and plastics, are making the science publications of our parents obsolete…
yet we are still reading Shakespeare plays from hundreds of years ago. We are still learning about humans, and the
learning “just ain’t easy.”
In the diversity-and-assimilation
file, I learned that a man might have a “strange” first name, yet still use
learned academic words like “teensy weensy.” As in “scratches I could wipe out
with a wet thumb, and a teensy weensy chip.” Actually, because his name was one
syllable it was easy for me to learn (but he had to tell me how to spell it); a
multi-syllable name I always have to write down.
In the technology-and-inventions
file I learned that fiberglass is truly light. How light? If your fender is a
little off, then don’t drive on the
freeway. The grabbing wind does “strannnnge” things. Meanwhile, my modern car
still comes with a few steel bars inside, but only the barest minimum, no more.
After all, we have to get the fuel costs down somehow. Man, how I long for the days when you just smack a dent
with a hammer. Incidentally, among certain young of Pacific rim Asians, young North
American have a dubious reputation for being willing to drive cars with visible
rust and dents. I put this down to American poverty roots, and love of fixing up
old cars.
In the ego file, I
found myself wanting to minimize or deny: I
don’t have accidents, not me! And if I did, well, I’d think, “it doesn’t
count—I can explain!” I found myself seriously wanting to get a rental car real
fast, before anyone saw my fender. Obviously my ego was warping my truth. Not
good. Surely I wouldn’t advise anyone else to wiggle and deny, so why do so
myself? “Yes, but—”
This week I have learned
something happy: Even when my ego is in “desperation mode” it takes surprisingly
little self-talk, very little, to set myself straight again. “Tell the truth
and shame the devil,” says I.
In my old family, sad
to say, we didn’t have the word “self-talk” in our vocabulary, and our unspoken
saying was, “There’s nothing wrong with this family…and don’t you dare tell
anyone!”
As for surviving a
family such as mine, a fortnight ago (In I
am Not Oblomov) I posted a link to a radio interview of survivors of
sibling abuse. After my fender accident, a man of my background told me he
doesn’t ask for help the way other people do, because he doesn’t think he will
get any help. I replied, “When I go to make a fender bender report at the
police station I expect to be yelled at.” I told this to the nice cop at the
station who responded, “Really?” And then, another cop who was there typing
away nodded his head “yes” as the constable added, “…well, we could ask him to yell at you. (We all silently
laughed)
Derision is not
called for. My college instructor, a man of key phrases, used to tell us, “If
you point an accusing or judgmental finger at someone else then you have three
of your fingers pointing back at you.” Another phrase he would often say, after
he gave us descriptive feedback, was “Defensive comments are not necessary.” Down
the years, as you might imagine, I am still trying to be as good a chairman as
he was; meanwhile every time I drive a tiny bit over the posted speed limit I know,
sadly, I am still failing to be as good a driver as my driving instructor. Oh
well. As Shakespeare could have said, it’s nice to live and learn.
Sean Crawford
Calgary
June
2016
Footnotes:
~Yes, I may exceed
the speed limit when keeping within group traffic flow—that’s only common
sense.
~I am reminded of
two Chinese proverbs,
One good teacher is worth a ton of books
And
He who teaches me for a day is my father for life
Translated by Emil
William Chynn
Copyright by
Armand Eisen
Published by
Andrews McMeel
Kansas City,
Missouri
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