Net Cotton Content / On Life and Marketing, Creativity and Ethics

A Teacher In Search Of A Classroom

During the past 15 years, I've been moonlighting – in broad daylight – as a teacher.

I've taught third through seventh grades on Sundays, middle- and high-schoolers upon occasion, college and graduate school year round. I've taught in the corporate setting and throughout the community.

Ethics, creativity, writing, psychology, history, comedy, Holocaust, marketing, advertising...

I teach to live. I live to teach.

But, suddenly, unexpectedly, on February 25, 2008, something different happened.

Driving To Cleveland
I was on the way to Cleveland to have dinner with a client and friend, Phil.

Since I was going to Cleveland, I had also scheduled a speech at a Cleveland school, the legendary Laurel School, where the head of school is a dear classmate from college, Ann V. Klotz. (Ann was also the student director of Our Town back in 1981.)

Ann had arranged for me to speak to the entire Upper School about the Ethics of Speech. The day before, I'd asked Ann to give me as much time as possible. "Please don't waste time introducing me," I begged. "Just let me talk with them."

On the way, I called Ann to confirm. "Don't worry about my introducing you," Ann reported. "I introduced you this morning. I made it big. You'll have to live up to it."

But moments later, halfway to Cleveland, I received a call from Phil. "I'm sick with the flu," said Phil. "I'm going home. We can't have dinner tonight. Believe me: you don't want to have dinner with me tonight."

Ouch. Poor Phil. (He's recovered.) But he was my original reason for going to Cleveland. Now I was going to Cleveland only to speak at Laurel School.

Of course, I didn't consider turning around. I wanted to speak to the girls at the Laurel School. And Ann had already introduced me.

I drove on.

Worth Getting To: Laurel School
I spoke right after lunch. It went well.

The students were gracious. Very: they stood and cheered. (I snapped the photo on the right with my cell phone. The shining thing is the projector.)

If you applaud, you get more and better. If you applaud your teachers, it is so unexpected, they work harder to teach you better. If you thank the chef, you get better food. If you show gratitude, you get more – at work, at home, in love, among friends.

Right after the applause, the junior class officers came to the front of the auditorium and asked if I would speak at their graduation next year. Of course, I said yes.

But Ann came over and said that the senior class officers had come to her, asking her to invite me to speak at their graduation this year. "They reminded me that they were following proper protocol," said Ann.

Then, other students asked if I would come right away and teach their Life Skills class. "Of course," I said. "Which way is the classroom?" The teacher welcomed me into her classroom and we had a lively debate on ethical speech. It was a great delight. We all learned.

All this sounds like so much boasting, but I'm writing this because of what happened next.

What Happened Next
Or really, what did not happen next.

Usually, after I teach, I immediately unscrew my Teaching Head and place it in the book bag in the trunk of my car. Then, I screw on my Business Head and go to the next meeting. And, in all the unscrewing and screwing, I lose what happened in the classroom. 

I have always moved on too quickly to understand how much I enjoyed the time spent with students.

This time, because poor Phil had taken to his sickbed, I didn't have a business meeting after leaving Laurel School.

I just drove home to Columbus. During the next three hours, I was left to process the experience. I didn't distract myself with the radio. I thought about the experience at Laurel School:

What had it felt like?

Why did I so enjoy it?

What would I give to relive that experience?

The drive home changed my life.

Give To Relive
Suddenly, I became a teacher in search of a classroom.

I described the experience to my lifelong friend, Jon York. And I told him my secret plan: "During the next 18 months, I need to figure our how to get into the classroom full-time."

"Eighteen months?" Jon said. "Pardon me, maybe we are different in this way, but when I want to do something, I want to do it right away. Do you really want to wait 18 months?"

"No."

After all, I already had permission to change my life. So what was I waiting for?

More to come.

One Learning Down, Eight To Go

A few days ago, I described the nine things I want to learn this summer.

One of them was how to fix a flat tire on a bicycle. Problem is: you can't fix a tire that isn't flat. It's a lesson of opportunity.

Opportunity Achieved
Yesterday, I woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and had a cup. And looking up, I noticed I was late. (Huh, huh, huh, huh.)

Another day in the life. Ready to ride my bike downtown – and my rear tire was flat as could be. It made that sad, little squeaky noise, like when one mistakenly wears one's rubber soled shoes in the shower. Silly one.

Normally, I would have been disappointed to have a flat tire. It did scratch my ride during one of the prettiest days of the year.

But, since learning to fix a flat bicycle tire was on my List Of Nine Things To Learn This Summer, the flat tire seemed like a fully inflated opportunity.

I'm Pumped
During my last flat tire repair six months ago – at B1 Bicycles at 124 East Long Street, Downtown Columbus – my former CCAD student Sally taught me how to fix a flat.

I remembered how. As the pedagogy says: watch once, do it once, teach it once. (I still need to teach it once. If you get a flat tire, call me. Really. I'd love to tu-u-u-u-u-rn ... yo-o-o-o-u ... o-o-o-o-n.)

I had bought the materials from Sally last year – and patiently waited to ride over glass.

Did I ride over glass on purpose a couple days ago? No. That would be stupid. It wasn't stupidity; it was serendipity. It's funny how teachable moments happen when you ask for them.

Eight more lessons and I'll be ready for the leaves to change.
 

Do You Know Music?

Remember Bird? Bird of the Phoenix Movement is the Yale classmate who re-befriended me after 25 years at our class reunion last year.

Now, from Bird's nest in Australia comes 8 Ball Aitken. I met him last year when they were on a tour of the eastern United States.

He's a dear boy. Really. And a damn fine guitarist. And a smooth singer.

You be the judge
Let me know if you think 8 Ball is the real deal.

Here's his latest:

"Do anything long enough and it will end badly."

Martin Saperstein, market research Ph.D., founder of Saperstein Associates, and an uncommon advocate for the humble knish said it again yesterday.

"Do anything long enough and it will end badly."

Marty had said it before to me: 18 years ago, when we met, and then a couple times along the way. It often comes in the course of a conversation about long-term planning for an entrepreneurial business.

He offers this troubling thought with perfect diction and a matter-of-fact sunniness: "Well. The way I see it is: do anything long enough and it will end badly."

"What about marriage?"
So, yesterday, our mutual friend Robin leans in and asks: "What about marriage?"

"Oh, marriage," answers Marty, who is so happily and well married. "In the best case, you are perfectly married to the most wonderful person for many, many years. Then one of you dies."

From my perspective, this isn't pessimism. It's a realism that says, "Carpe diem. Don't defer satisfaction until the bitter end. Because, well, the end will be bitter."

Have a nice day.

Tandem Bike Hiawatha (A One-Act Drama in The Style of Thornton Wilder)

Sparse stage.

A judge presides. Two men on a stationary tandem bicycle sit, peddling, before the judge's bench. One man wears black spandex. The other has his dress pants tucked into his socks.

Voice from offstage: "Hear ye, hear ye. Now the court shall entertain the matter of Isaac vs. Central Ohio. The judge is in the hiz-house."

Stage lights up.

Man in spandex: "May it please the court."

Judge: "What now?"

Man in spandex: "Your honor, I am Doug Morgan, counsel for Artie Isaac."

Judge: "State your business in this court."

Doug Morgan:  "Mr. Isaac has redeemed himself, turning over a new leaf of lawfulness whilst in the street."

Judge: "Continue."

Doug Morgan: "Mr. Isaac no longer races his bicycle through red lights, even when there is no traffic."

Judge: "No way."

Doug Morgan: "Way, indeed. Mr. Isaac rides at the highest standards, in full respect of democracy."

Judge: "Whatta guy. You know, it's actually safer for him to cross against the red light when there is no cross traffic."

Doug Morgan: "Whatever."

Judge: "What's your business in this court?"

Doug Morgan: "Mr. Isaac seeks the court's permission to ride on the sidewalk when there are no pedestrians in mortal peril before him. If there is a pedestrian near, Mr. Isaac will ring his bell and go so slowly that he is in danger of falling over."

Judge: "You know that your client seeks to violate the Common Orders of Faire Passage, the laws of the road derived from the Magna Carta when high-octane was less than $2.65 a gallon and America was blinded by its lust for the solo commute."

Doug Morgan: "Yes, your honor. My client knows that. Believe you me, I've advised him against this request. I told him that old canard about democracy dying every time he farts in public."

Man with pants tucked into socks [aside to Doug Morgan]: "What the hell is 'Hepharts'? Latin?"

Doug Morgan [aside to man with pants-in-socks]:  "Only if you lean to the right. Let me work here, will you?"

Judge: "Why should this court allow it?"

Doug Morgan: "If it please the court..."

Judge: "Forget about pleasing me. Start with amusing me."

Doug Morgan: "If it amuse the court, Mr. Isaac, if caught riding his bicycle on the sidewalk would surely be ordered to perform a couple hundred hours of community service."

Judge: "Where are you going with this odds-fish argument, Counselor?"

Doug Morgan: "Mr. Isaac has already, during the past 18 years in Columbus, performed thousands of hours of community service. He has kowtowed to donors, bathed the sick, ogled art, taught the bored."

Judge: "OK, now we are pleased."

Doug Morgan: "So, on behalf of my client, I would like to ask if — since he's done the time by performing community service — may he now do the crime?"

Judge: "Thousands of hours of community service, huh? A little sidewalk tomfoolery, eh?"

Dramatic tension.

Judge: "Sure. This court allows him 18 years of riding on the sidewalk."

Artie Isaac: "Pardon me, your honor."

Judge [bemusedly]: "Yee-e-es?"

Artie Isaac: "While I appreciate your kind ruling, I am curious: how would this play in the Court of Public Opinion?"

Judge: "Let's ask."

Lights come up on a jury box that contains the entire population of Columbus, Ohio.

Everyone on the jury box [in unison, enthusiastically]: "We agree."

Black curtain is pulled across front of stage.

[Program notes: The playwright thanks Nate, with whom Tandem Bike Hiawatha was conceived while both were on bikes waiting at a red light.]

What Is Your 90-day Self-Education Budget?

Would you be willing to spend $100,000 for an MBA?

Yet you might hesitate before spending $2,500 to learn how to meditate.

But, wait. What's the value of being able to meditate? For me, meditation has brought me more value than my MBA. (Sure, I learned about cost-benefit analysis, but then I calculated that meditation is more valuable. Go figure.)

You can learn almost anything in 90 days
What's your self-education budget for the next 90 days? How much are you willing to spend to learn new subjects? Or to dig deeper into the topics you already know?

Once you have a budget, what would you study?

Here are three questions that might lead you to the answer:

1. If you went back to college, what degree would you seek?
2. If you had a $100 gift card for a bookstore, what section would you first go to?
3. If you could wave a magic wand, what new knowledge or skills would you grant yourself?
   

A couple years ago, I decided to re-teach myself cursive handwriting. It's made me a better writer -- and a better listener, because I can take better notes.

So what are you going to study during the next 90 days?

Why must you answer this?
No one else is as interested in your continuing education as you are. It's time to be a little selfish about learning.

And, if we're not learning, we're not growing. What's that feel like?

For me, not learning felt like this: one day, I recognized that the newest band I'd heard of was Steely Dan.

Are you reelin' in the years,
Stowin' away the time?
Are you gatherin' up the tears?
Have you had enough of mine?

What do you want to learn?

Here's what I want to learn this summer
In no particular order, here's a hasty list:

1. How to teach teenagers. I've taught seventh grade on Sundays for years. It's what I do best. But I want to learn more about brain and behavioral development during adolescence.
2. How to ride Amtrak across the country. It's time for a second honeymoon. The first one took us to the Grand Canyon. (Is it still there?)
3. How to collaborate in the theatre. How to act. How to memorize. How to rehearse. How to perform. (How to do it without losing money.) Our Town is June 26-28.
4. How to better teach the Ethics of Speech, Creativity, and Storytelling. I'd like to develop each one of these topics into one- and three-day curricula for schools, colleges and businesses.
5. How to read well enough to hear the protagonist's heartbeat. Can that be done?
6. How to fix a flat tire on a bicycle. It's going to happen sooner or later. I don't want to be a sitting duck -- or to continue feeling helpless while on the way to my next flat tire.
7. How to park without scraping the tires against the curb. (I had to buy a new tire yesterday. I wore out the sides before I wore out the bottom. That's dopey.) Let this be my Summer of Tires.
8. How to be a better friend.
9. How to listen better.

What do you want to learn?
Let's remember the admonition to "acquire a teacher."

No more Jay-Biking

Doug Morgan is right.

Doug is my rolling role model, my two-wheeling muse, my eco-physio-communal inspiration. Doug bikes to work most every day. (Once, I biked with him, but disliked the taste of my own blood.)

Doug is right.

He observed me riding a bicycle in traffic and saw me take unlawful advantage of being on a bike: when there was no moving traffic, I zipped through a red light.

It's not normal behavior for me. I'm pretty strict about adhering to the law. Of all my fears, a top five fear is going to jail.

The Jay-Biker's Rationalization
Running a red light on a bike is so available and so juicy when there's no crossing traffic in any direction and, really, who expects a bicycle to wait at a traffic light when there is no cross traffic?

Plus, it's safer for the bicyclist to cross a big intersection when there is no traffic flowing from any direction. Similarly, I've read that jaywalkers are safer crossing in the middle of a block (where there is only cross traffic) than lawful pedestrians crossing at an intersection (where traffic is flowing in various directions and turning). If safety is our goal, then I should be a jay-biker.

Doug's Argument
Doug gently admonished me. "Please don't do that," he said. He went on...

"There is such tension between automobile drivers and bicyclists. The tension — and the danger it produces — could be resolved if: (1) each automobile driver would recognize each bike rider's right to a safe share of the road; and (2) each bike rider would obey the laws of the road."

Ever the lawyer-citizen, Doug added this gem:

"Every time someone breaks a law, even a small infraction, I think that democracy dies a little bit."

My Pledge
Now, today, in the Columbus Dispatch, comes a front-page story of the tension between bicyclists and drivers. 

Today, I renounce jay-biking. I will uphold the law.

Now, egad, my self-righteousness is complete. Run for your lives.

Come to Our Town tomorrow night (Monday)

In 10 weeks, the three-day run of Our Town will close. (This is no time to be nostalgic.)

From now until then, however, we have a rush of activity for volunteers of every stripe and talent.

Tomorrow night, Monday, April 21, at the Available Light [theatre] space in Gahanna, we will have the Big (Fun) Volunteer Meeting for organizing everything. You are invited!

You have mentioned to me that you are interested in helping. (Maybe I was reading your mind?) Please come! Perhaps I'll see you there?

For all the information, here's the time and place.

If you need further persuading, I dare you to watch the following diversion...

Calling all volunteers!

Now is the time to answer the call of The Theatre! She is calling your name!

(Hey, doesn't she look like Thornton Wilder?)

Please, stay focused.

She wants you to volunteer on the production of Our Town which will be presented the last week of June 2008 in Bexley, Ohio.

If you are even the slightest bit interested, please put the evening of Monday, April 21st on your calendar.

That evening, all the volunteer opportunities will be described and scheduled.  (In the technical, high brow parlance of the theatre, we call this "The Big Volunteer Meeting.")

We'll need help every step of the way - back stage, in the scene shop, ushering, costuming, make-up, getting the word out and more. A number of wonderful people have already let us know that they're interested, and we are so very grateful for them, but we need more, more, more! (The Theatre, she is a greedy lover. Mmmm.)

If you have skeells that you'd like to lend, or you'd like to learn some new skeells, please call 614-558-7408 or email the producer.

Or just come to The Big Volunteer meeting. Here's information on specifically where...

Bring your friends. And if you make any new friends between now and then (you can! you will!), bring them, too.

Talk tonight

A couple weeks ago, I mentioned that I've been invited to deliver this year's Heisler Lecture on Business Ethics at Ohio Wesleyan University.

I've worked up a passionate and, I hope, informed talk on the Ethics of Speech in Business (and Life).

Tonight is the night (Monday, April 7) and...

You are cordially invited.

Admission is free. The organizers expect about 170 attendees.

All you have to do is come to the Delaware campus. Here's the Google map to get you to the Benes Rooms of Ohio Wesleyan University’s Hamilton-Williams Campus Center 40 Rowland Avenue, Delaware, Ohio.

The talk starts at 7:30 p.m.

(Spoiler alert: Don't peek if you are attending. Here are the slides I'm using.)

But what if you can't wait until 7:30?
What if you want to hear a talk, any talk, right now?

Then, dear reader, you have issues.

So here — in the convenience of your computer — is another talk from TED ("Ideas Worth Spreading") that is wonderfully interesting. (Thanks to Tina for sending it my way.)

In the following video, a brain scientist finally explains the idea of Right Brain/Left Brain in a way that even I can understand. She understands the difference, because she personally had a stroke that interrupted the left side of her brain.

Here's Jill Bolte Taylor describing My Stroke of Insight.

(If the video below takes too long to load, just click here and you'll go straight to her talk on the TED website.)