When Small Is Large

Well, I thought, after an exhilarating four days of learning at the Lilly Conference on College Teaching, today was going to be a quick-in for some administrative meetings and a quick-out tomorrow at the crack of dawn to West Tennessee for Thanksgiving celebrations with my sister’s family. When I came to the office early this morning, real early, to get ready for those meetings, I found a little folded note slipped under my office door. It looked so innocuous. I was so wrong. It was little only in size. It contained so much. As I quickly unfolded it, prepared to scan it on the run, it slowed me down, stopped me dead in my tracks, plunked me down, made me smile, tightened my chest, gave me goose bumps, and brought a tear or two to my eyes. Someone said, that goose bumps and teary eyes happen when your soul is close to you. Well, I felt it softly breathing down the nape of my neck like loving wisps of my angelic Susan’s light breaths.

It simply read, “I stopped by to wish you a happy Thanksgiving and to say thanks. During the past few weeks I thought I would not have anything to give thanks for. I want you to know that your smile and just quietly coming over and telling me softly and in a way no one would notice to let you know if there was anyway you could help me helped me more than you know. I know you don’t know what happened. You just care so much you saw that I may have been in need of help. I know you probably didn’t even think about what you did. It came so naturally and truthfully from your heart. That’s what made what you did even more important to me. It was for me a moment of grace. I knew then I was not alone and dirty. It’s really helping me get through this. It doesn’t take much to do much, does it? Nice lesson. I will never, never forget it. Thanks for truly, truly caring. You do love each of your students no matter what, don’t you. I thought I had only signed up for a history course. It’s a heavy course in life, too. Maybe, that’s more important. I don’t know how I would handle this if it wasn’t. Guess I was lucky, real lucky. Happy Thanksgiving. Remember, I want to see you back here next week. So, ‘don’t eat and drive.'”

I suppose somewhere out there is some profound eloquent verbal postscript to what I’ll call this “soul booster.” After this reminder that the power of simply being kind is so powerful, that who you are and what you do can really matter even if others don’t think so, I’m not sure any moral coda is needed.

It’s already a nice Thanksgiving. And, to all of you in the States, let me and Susan wish you and yours a blessed Thanksgiving. And, remember: don’t “eat and drive.”

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

The Best Place To Be

I was sitting on a cool brick bench yesterday, taking in the invigorating afternoon chill, letting it help me get myself into a meditative mood as I got ready to go off to do my stuff at the Lilly Conference on teaching, when I heard a voice coming from my left.

“Hey, doc,”

I turned. Martha was running up to me. Her book-laden backpack was swaying like a demolition ball, doing it’s best to destroy her balance and pull her to the ground.

She sat down besides me. “Got a question for you before we break for Thanksgiving.”

“What?”

“I graudate this spring and start teaching in the fall. I’ve got to start thinking where I want to go. Where do you think I should go?”

“I know where I would go. You’re not going to like my answer.”

“You telling me to go some run-down school in a city slum or some one room school house in some backwoods where they need me?”

“No. But, it’s not a bad idea. They need good people like you there.”

“Where, then?”

“Into your heart.”

“Into my heart!!” Come on! I’m serious!”

“So, am I! Want to be a good teacher? Be a good person. Be a caring person. You are going to help others reach for the sacred fullness of their potential. Your heart is the place where love, caring, compassion, hope, and faith in yourself and others turns up. It’s not in the supposedly best school system. It’s not in the best salary. Your best lesson plans will be about becoming the real, honest, caring, compassionate, authentic person you are capable of becoming. Then, you’ll be in a place where you what say and what you do will be like a guiding revelation to someone. Go into your heart. It’s a powerful place to be. Do that, and you’ll teach like a prayer.

“Like a prayer?”

“Like a prayer. Prayers are pleas. They are a yearning. My prayers for you and me, and even the world, aren’t in my words. Words are easy to come by. My prayers are in the intensity and sincerity of all of my actions, especially in what a lot of people might ignore as ‘just little, everyday nothing stuff.'”

Martha paused. “Like this ‘little’ conversation?”

“Like this ‘big’ conversation.”

“You know, Dr. Schmier, you’re wrong.

“Why?”

“I like your answer. Have a happy Thanksgiving.”

“You, too. And, I want to see you back here. So, don’t eat and drive.”

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Go On A Fast

On this chilly, damp Sunday morning I was thinking about a person I only met last week. I wish I had meet him years ago. His name is Glen Touchton. He is the plumbing foreman for the University. He is a member of a major university strategic planning committee which I was crazy enough to volunteer to co-chair. I don’t know if it was by accident or it was a deliberate act that he sitting on this particular committee that is going to wrestle with vast Gordian issues of student learning, retention, and graduation. I do know–now–he has been operating by a strategic plan of his own that he and I wish everyone would follow: he cares. He truly cares. He cares about doing more than a good job; he cares about VSU; he cares about each student.

At the committee’s first meeting, he made some of the most important and insightful comments. At one point, however, he punctuated his words with a self-demeaning “now, I only got through high school….” That scared me. From his comments and my experience I knew he was up to now, like most staff personnel, an unnoticed and unheeded resource, an untapped fountain of experience and wisdom. I wanted to make sure he would actively participate and speak, that he would be a voice on that committee. I know our new President and his Strategic Planning Officer don’t think that he was there for mere appearance. I wanted to make sure he didn’t think of himself as mere fluff. So, I arranged to speak with him privately. I am so glad I did, for I discovered that I needn’t have worried. And, I started to know one neat and highly intelligent person whose caring attitude hold a lot of water.

For over an hour one day last Friday I sat mesmerized. I found the fellow-traveler and a kindred spirit I suspected I saw at that meeting. He knew all about me. Sadly, I didn’t know about him until we met for the first time at the committee meeting. For over an hour I didn’t say a word. I sat silently, intently focused, listening, learning. For over an hour, we never lost eye contact. I stared into his kindly, almost cherub face. His feelings were soft and caring. His words were commonsensical and fraught with penetrating insight. Too many would arrogantly pass him off as “What does a plumber know?” or “He only has a high school education.” Well, I can tell you that after hearing his brief biography, he has a Ph.D. from the “School of Hard Knocks” with a major in common sense and he better be heard. He is on “the front lines.” He is often in closer contact with students than are faculty. He sees and hears a lot more and has a tighter grasp of the reality of what goes on than do most administrators and faculty. He’s got the all important feet-on-the-ground “street smarts” that’s so often more critical than “book learning.”

Listen to some bits and pieces of his words as I remember them:

….the students are my real boss. We’re here for them. Without them, we don’t exist, none of us gets paid….

….too many are thinking only about themselves. A lot of us are fighting each other and don’t have a sense of seeing beyond themselves and belonging to his University….

….except for a few, faculty and administrators don’t walk through the campus and stop or sit down with students and staff people to just talk and get to know them….some don’t notice people around them and smile at them. It’s like people don’t exist to them….you know, just a simple ‘hello’ does a lot for people. It says they’re worth saying ‘hello’ to….

….this isn’t just a paying job for me…..I love this college….I love the students…..they’re our future….in my way I can have an influence on that future….

….parents have put them into our care and we have to care for them and we have to care about them as if they were our kids….

….if the plumbing ain’t working right or the food don’t taste good or the place is a mess or someone shows they don’t care whether they’re here or not, they know we don’t truly care about them as persons, and they’re out of here….

….one month they’re teenagers in high school living with mommy and daddy being taken care of, the next month they’re here, on their own, alone, living with strangers in strange surroundings eating strange food, confused, having to make friends, having to buy their own food, do their own laundry, finding jobs, being confused, being disciplines, homesick, learning how to make decisions on their own….

….being here should be like raising our own kids….they’re good kids. We should see that….

….we call them children and treat them as such when it suits us, and look at them as adults and treat them as such when it suits us. Most of them are still youngsters learning the ropes of living, practicing being on their own. They don’t change that fast from the month they were in high school to the month they’re here. We’ve got to understand that and help them in any way we can. All of us have to do that whether we’re secretaries or plumbers or cooks or security or….

….a lot of faulty say why do we have to cut the grass or trim the bushes or spend a lot of money on those things. Well, it’s like dressing right. It shows back on us….

….this place rests on a tripod that has to be balanced. There’s the Plant Ops, the students, and the faculty. This here place is a community. Everyone is important. If one of the legs is not set right, the whole thing is going to tip over….

….we should being doing things because it right doing them and we’re doing everyone right by doing them. It’s not just to stop and solve a problem and then going about doing things the way you’ve always done it waiting for another problem to come along….My job is to be the best plumber I can be because it’s the right thing to be. If I am, I won’t be seen….My job is to prevent problems from happening. If I do my job and keep the plumping working, no one will notice I’m around. That’s how it should be…

Well, on this point I think Glen is wrong. He should be seen. He has to be seen and heard. His counsel should be sought. He should be listened to, as should his fellow members of the university staff. Remember the words of Thomas Wolfe? I think it was Wolfe who said that a society with all philosophers and no plumbers will not last any more than will a society with all plumbers and no philosophers because neither will hold water. That is true of our campuses.

The Hopi Indians believe that our daily rituals are prayers that literally keep this world spinning on its axis. For Glen, being at VSU for the students is a daily prayer. It is both a figurative and literal devotional act to sustain the world and ensure its future.

So, I have a challenge. Next time you’re on campus, go on a fast. Refrain from all whining and complaining. Don’t say an unkind word to anyone. Don’t think an unkind thought about anyone, including yourself. Don’t do an unkind deed. Don’t think you’re the star of the show. Walk and notice only the good stuff. Look as if you’re seeing each person on campus for the first–or the last. Smile at them. Say “hello” to them. See the beauty in their imperfections. Summon what the Sufis call the fragrance of the Beloved in each one. Treat each person caringly with care. Be a welcoming presence. Go so far as to say silently a brief grace as you look at each student, colleague, administrator, staff person: “Blessed, therefore, is everyone….”

Imagine if each one of us went on this hearty diet. Imagine if each one of us cleansed our spiritual arteries of those unhealthy fatty, clogging, unproductive, unsatisfying, negative cholesterols. Imagine how much healthier would our attitudes and actions be.

I assure you it is not easy. You’d be amazed at how many negative words we utter and negative thoughts we think each day. But, if you can do it, as Glen struggles to do it, if you say and think only what is heartfelt, you’ll find that you can turn the monster into a prince or princess with a simple, loving kiss.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

PC and All That

We had what I would call a little PC spat on my campus a couple of weeks ago over what I might call in modern technoligical parlance, a five minute sound byte. It made the university newspaper; it’s is being mumbled and grumbled about in the halls. It reminded me, as I recently told some people, that there are times I have to agree with George Will’s statement that while our campuses may pride themselves as sancutaries of diversity, they are anything but sancutaries of diversity of thought or expression.

Now, before I go any farther and get into deeper trouble, understand that I am what some would call–perhaps brand or accuse–an unabashed, unrepentant, card-carrying member of the ACLU left over (pun intended) liberal from the 60’s and 70’s.

In that spirit, I am not particularly in love with these “walk on the surface of the water,” self-appointed, “be reasonable and only agree with me” self-righteous guardians of our freedom, these straightjacketing moral legalists, these censoring legal moralists, these silencing “speak only what and as we say.” These left-handed and right-handed advocates of political correctness–or in the wake of 9/11, patriotic correctness– in their zealotry forget about one thing: the first amendment in our sacred Bill of Rights. It is the amendment that keeps us free, the one that has stood as the cornerstone of American democracy for more than 200 years. Aside from guaranteeing freedom of religion, press, assembly and petition, there’s that other “little” protection “hidden” in the first amendment. It’s called “Freedom of Speech.” I’ve read, thought about, practiced, lived, discussed, fought for, defended, and taught about the First Amendment almost every day for many a decade. If I’ve learned anything, it is that the true test of being an advocate of free speech is to defend it when you think such speech is least defensible, most unsupportable, most offensive, and most detestable. Never have I seen in that amendment’s eloquent terseness anything said about convenient or inconvenient speech, comfortable or uncomfortable speech, appropriate or inappropriate speech, patriotic or unpatriotic speech, agreeable or disagreeable speech, offensive or inoffensive speech, troubling or untroubling speech, acceptable or unacceptable speech, minority or majority speech. Were it to have imposed such retricting and imprisoning and subjective adjectives on speech, it would be mere colorless glitter and empty. Where would be the likes of those proverbial movers and shakers, those unsettling and disagreeable speakers such as Frederick Douglass, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Margaret Sanger, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Sojourner Truth, Dorethea Dix, David Thoreau, Eugene Debs, Susan B. Anthony, Lenny Bruce, George Carlon, Oliver North, Jesse Jackson, and, yes, even the likes of David Dukes and Jerry Falwell. How poorer would we have been if we didn’t have those who got under our skin, pushed our buttons, tweaked our noses, got us mad, needled us, gave us pause to reflect, and caused us to articulate. How much farther would we be from the ideals of American values .

Again in my defense, I am an avid, almost fanatical, opponent of verbal violence. Whether we come from left or right, we can be so hurtful when we think we’re so right. In Solomon it says something about reckless words pierce like a sharp sword. The ditty “sticks and stones may hurt my bones, but words will never harm me,” might be right and Solomon wrong, and we might not have to be thoughtful, if all people had thick inner armor protecting their spirts from verbal grenades. The reality is that they don’t. Yes, words can harm. They can break our hearts and subdue our spirits; they can destroy our dreams; they can lessen our desire; they can render us worthless; they can crush our courage; they can douse our flame. Negative, devlauing words like “spastic,” “fattie,” “nerd,” “dumb blonde,” “four eyes,” “flat-chested,” “shorty,” “chesty,” “fag,” “dummy,” “infidel,” and worse can hurt. Vicious words, bigoted words, can destroy. Ask anyone who was and/or is ridiculed and taunted because he or she is Polish, Jewish, Liberal, Conservative, female, Catholic, homosexual, Irish, Oriental, Italian, African, Moslim, Arab, etc. Ask anyone who is the brunt of unkind words, tasteless personal jokes, brutal nick names, and shameless ridicule if these words ever lose their sting.

No, I don’t think there is any deeper wound than humiliation. It is wanton cruelty. It is verbal lynching. As the saying goes, the tongue doesn’t weigh all that much, but its wagging can weigh heavy on someone’s heart. It doesn’t create close relationships. It does create a lonliness and distrust. Do you realize that when you speak negatively about someone specifically or stereotypically, it causes you to dislike them. The minute or two in which we feel powerful and important is so insignificant and temporaty compared to the amount and duration of damage we can cause. Words we say today often may last a lifetime in someone’s heart. A simple comment can travel deep, can penetrate like a bullet, causing untold damage in its path. That comment may not penetrate someone with a stronger inner steel, but it can richochet, penetrate the thin skin of another, and impact on attitudes and relationships of those others. That is not a legacy to put on a resume or tombstone.

With that said, know this. Forcing others to speak what you think is right isn’t right either. You’re not defending the freedom of speech by violating that right in the name of right. Besides, it doesn’t do much good. Just because you don’t hear it doesn’t mean it went away or disappeared. It merely has been hidden away or went underground. You can’t shut lips as a way of opening the mind and heart. Silencing the mouth is not mind or heart altering. Banishing does not eliminate; it merely disguises. Imposed silence cannot alter lives; it just creates a pressure cooker where things stew. Prohibiting words does not get to and root out emotions, beliefs, and attitudes.

Of course, we should replace hurting words with healing attitudes, discouraging words with encouraging belief, impovishing words with enriching actions. If I don’t not utter these distasteful words, if I don’t not think these distasteful thoughts, if I don’t act disrespectfully, it is not because I think and do what someone says I must think and do. It is because the inner me sincerely says I must; not out of fear, but out of a deep-rooted respect for the dignity of each individual. And when we hear such words on our campus, we shouldn’t shut people down in a impassioned knee-jerk reaction; we should fight with compassion to open their hearts. We should seize the moment of having a teaching moment. If want such insensitive people to be sensitive to the feelings of others, so much we be sensitive to their feelings. We should do that not with force of threat by a speech police force, but with a convincing moral force; we should not accuse with a close-mindedness, but discuss open-mindedly; we should not hide, but bring out into the open and identify; we should not silence, but talk and listen and exchange. We need wisdom, common sense, understanding, sensitivity, awareness. It is a beautiful, uplifting habit to get into.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Hope Scholarships Offer Hope

This is a kind of different reflection.

Many of you may have read a feature by Greg Winter that appeared in the New York Times last week on October 31 that was followed by an editiorial which appeared in the Times on November 4. Both pieces cast doubts on the merits of merit-based scholarships. The editorial was titled, “When A Scholarship Buys A Car.” The particular merit-based scholarship both pieces spotlighted was Georgia’s Hope Scholarship program. If you haven’t read them, both pieces dwell on how a merit-based scholarship programs such as Georgia’s “showers students with tuition aid whether they need it or not” and is a “boondoggle” that allows the affluent parents to take advantage of the program and use the money they otherwise would have spent on tuition to buy their children new cars. The writers strongly infer that in so doing, the program excludes the many of the talented and needy, and “threatens the dream of upward mobility through education for the poorest Americans.” That may be true in other States, but not in Georgia. Consequently, I would like to take issue with both pieces. While I don’t intend to argue merit-based versus need-based programs, unlike the New York Times, I come to praise Georgia’s Hope Scholarship program, not to bury it.

I have been at Valdosta State University in Georgia a long time and have seen a lot of change. I came to Georgia in 1967 with halted breath when it was an educational backwater. As a born-‘n-bred eastside of Manhattan New Yorker, I came with a distinct geographical prejudice. To me, Georgia was “Bubba land,” a region of Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler, criss-crossed by “tobacco roads” along which lived an ignorant, backward, and hateful people known for their savage bigotry. Since then, I have seen the State struggle to cast off its mark of Cain. Like salmon, it has and continues to struggle to swim upstream against the currents to the educational headwaters where it can spawn a brighter future for its young citizens. And while Georgia is still struggling, with the Hope Scholarships there’s more than a glimmer of hope that the State has made headway. Because of that, I would like to point out a few things that make Georgia’s merit-based Hope Scholarships a tad unique. First, all of the cost of this merit-based tuition scholarship progam comes solely from lottery money. In these hard economic times when tax-based State budgets, including the budgets of educational agencies, are being drastically cut left and right, that may be more blessing than curse. And while you may argue that a lottery is immoral or that the lottery is little more than a hidden tax on the poor and uneducated who can least afford to pay additional taxes, it is the talented children of Georgia’s poor and unedcated, as well as those of the hard pressed and debt-ladened middle class who now have the most hope of getting a higher education because of the Hope Scholarships. Second, by law, the lottery money, unlike in many other states, cannot go into the black hole of the General Fund to be avaricely divided up by a host of warring state agencies or allow politicans to play the tax reduction card or reduce the pool for scholarships. In fact, even in these hard-pressed times, by law, the budget of the Department of Education in Georgia, whose budget constitutes 40% of the entire state budget, is exempt from the axeman’s blade while at the same time he is walking the halls of all other states agencies, including the University System. Third, the Hope Scholarships are sacrosanct. It would be political suicide for any politican on either side of the aisle to even consider tampering with them or make them political fodder. Fourth, while some may argue over a need-base verse a merit-base scholarship, the Hope Scholarship program doesn’t act like an airline that has overbooked a flight. If a few students from affluent families receive a Hope Scholarship, it is not at the expense of anyone in need. Any student, rich or poor, who gets B average in high school and maintains a 3.0 GPA in college, receives a Hope scholarship. No one is left out. Fifth, sure the scholarship is not perfect, but as the history of existing need-based programs show a lot more needy, a lot more of the close-to-the-cutoff-line working poor and hard-pressed middle class, would hopelessly fall through the cracks of a needs-based scholarship program.

With all that said, everyday I see the Hope scholarship buying far, far more futures than cars. Everyday I see the Hope Scholarship getting far more students into our classrooms than are getting into their new cars. Everyday I talk with lower and middle class students who would not have had the luxury of a college education without the scholarships. Everyday I read in journals of dreamy-eyed students daring to dream that their dreams will come true. Everyday I see a host of faces and hear a crowd of voices in the hallowed halls who without the Hope Scholarship would remain invisible and silent and locked outside the ivied walls. Everyday I see the State of Georgia affording a college education to large numbers of students who otherwise could not afford to attend a college or university. Everyday I see the scholarship showering throngs of disadvantaged students with opportunity who otherwise could not take advantage financially of any opportuntiy of attending a college or university. Everyday, I see the scholarship offering a windfall of hope to so many who would be otherwise hopeless. Everyday, I see Hope lighting up for a multitude what otherwise would be a dim future. Everyday I see far more money saved by the Hope Scholarship going for necessities than for luxuries.

And if I am being redundant, I am so deliberately and for the purpose of emphasis. The Times’editors may wish to dwell on the few affluent who take advantage to get a new car and call the Hope Scholarhship program a boondoggle. I prefer to dwell on the overwhelming majority of lower and middle class students who take advantage of the scholarship to get an education and I call the scholarship a boon.

Make it a good day.

–Louis–

Deep Teaching

Well, today is November 1st. It’s All Saints’ Day. The whole of Western Christendom is celebrating my birthday. I am finding birthday cards in the strangest places scattered around the house. My angelic Susan always does that even though she is convinced that Hallowween would have been more appropriate time for my entrance into the world. At times, she not sure whether I’m a loving trick or treat. Maybe she’s right—sometimes. It’s interesting. If I didn’t know that I am sixty-two today, I would swear I’m only an “experienced teenager.” If you didn’t know how old you are, how old would you say you are?

Anyway, all this is an aside. I want to share Melinda with you once again. I doubt if any of you know who Melinda is. I shared our experiences in one of my earlier “e-relfections,” before they were called “Random Thoughts,” when she was a first quarter freshmen in one of our classes at a time I was in the beginning legs of my journey ” That particular refleciton, shared the end of 1993, happens to be listed by the Seattle high school teacher who archives the Random Thoughts on the web as one of his “classics.”

In that particular untitled e-reflection, I wrote we teachers leave a lot of ourselves behind in each student, and in that sense, the class is never over. Melinda is an example of that. She and I have stayed in touch over the years. She has allowed me to follow her career and life. She is married to a neat man whom I had the pleasure of meeting for the first time last weekend. She is a high school teacher in the Boston area now, and a doggone good and caring one. She says I had something to do with that. I saw her and her husband while I was in Boston. We chatted for too short of a time, squeezing into a few but hours between M.I.T. and family stuff during a hurried short weekend. It was enough, and it was not enough.

I wrote a message to her this morning in answer to a warm and endearing message from her. I’d like to share my words with you:

Dear Melinda,

Do you know of anyone who would begin a project knowing he or she would never see its full completetion? I do. I know many such people with that kind of vision, conviction, commitment and dedication. They’re called teachers.

The paradox of teaching is that our living legacies, our visions often are not achieved by us in our presence. We may be a beginning step, maybe a continuing step, but not the whole journey. That can only be achieved by the living of those we have touched and may never see again and may never know about.

That’s why sometimes I have issue with these teaching awards and recognitions–and even teaching assessments. Significant teaching, what I’ll call “Deep Teaching,” is not a promotion, or the size of a raise, or standing on a podium receiving a plaque or scroll or gold watch, or getting an emeritus title or listening to what someone says. The accolades and recognitions are the result of what someone else thinks you are and what they think you’ve done, or wants others to think you are and have done. They are not who you are and are not necessarily what you’ve done.

Deep teaching is a state of your mind, heart, and soul. I always tell my students that they know, their gut tells them, when they have done whatever it took to do a project. It’s no different with teaching. You have to dive deep. Truly deep teaching is who you honestly–honestly–know you are and what you truly know you’ve really done. And, the only true judge of you is you. It’s a deep, below-the-waterline tough and demanding recognition your strengths and weaknesses as a human being.

Deep teaching is a deep, unconditional–unconditional–commitment to each and every student. It doesn’t allow you to hesitate, doesn’t give you an opportunity to look back, doesn’t offer you a chance of turning back, doesn’t excuse you for drawing back, and doesn’t permit you to accept ineffectiveness. It’s a deep internal satisfaction, a deep inner sense of joy and pride, a deep knowing that you did what it took to squeeze out of yourself every creative thought and every loving action that lives inside you in order to squeeze out every independent, creative thought and action in each student, and help him or her reach for his or her unique potential somewhere out there in the unknown reaches of the beyond.

How do you dive deep–and stay deep? Well, you know about my “Rules of the Road,” “Ten Commandments of Teaching,” “Ten Stickies,” and “My Musts.” Here’s some more. My strokes and kicks for deep teaching. Everyday:

1. Believe. Believe, and you shall look for, listen out for; then, and only then, you will sense, see, and heed
2. Know that in the ordinary is the extraordinary, in the common is the uncommon
3. Constantly change your thinking and get into the habit of breaking your habit of doing things
4. Always look for possibilities and potentials
5. See the invisible; notice the unnoticed; name the unnamed; find the hidden, go into the shadows
6. Understand that there’s always more than one right answer and always a better way
7. See problems as challenges and challenges as opportunities to change lives and alter the future
8. Let go of your safety and comfort and familiarity
9. Stay on the edge and be readly to jump off
10. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes
11. Care. Love deeply and passionately, hope eternally, never lose faith.
12. Celebrate what’s right and what went right, and not focus what’s not right and did not work
13. Learn “why,” get an energizing and directing vision, so that you can learn “how”

Thirteen! Deep number!!

Make it a good day.

–Louis–