Imperfect Progress

I came across a phrase this week: Imperfect Progress. The explanation that came after it read: slow steps of progress wrapped in grace. To me, those are beautiful words. Words that stop you and cause you to reread them, slowly drinking them in and feeling a gracious release of weight.

I don't know when I developed a perfectionist mindset, but somewhere along the lines I clearly did. I'm not alone in it either, God only knows how many others out there stop and do a double take at a phrase like "imperfect progress". The thing about a perfectionist mindset is that it's not realistic...or even healthy. In fact, I think it diminishes learning and performance more than elevating it.

 
During college tennis I went through this drought where my serve completely disappeared. I mean, I'm not talking a double fault here and there, I'm talking gone. Like, Gone Girl gone (great book, by the way). I couldn't get a serve in half the time to save my life...in fact I can confidently say I would have been even less likely to get it in if my life had depended on it. So, I did what any perfectionist athlete would do and I hit the court...harder. Clearly three to four hours a day wasn't enough, I needed more -a lot more. Except, that didn't fix the problem. Not even close. Maybe, it even made it worse.  The fact was I already knew how to serve. But, there were outside factors in my life at that time that had changed my mindset, and deep down there was an unconscious fear that didn't believe in my ability to serve anymore. Fear, even unconscious, can change the way our brain and body react. Combine that fear with a perfectionist outlook and you may begin to see a jaded view of progress.

The point is: our mindset and the framework of words and beliefs, or disbelief, we feed ourselves strongly correlates to our performance. I know this isn't just me because the fact is there's a whole juicy market out there in sports psychology. But, it got me thinking: it's not just sports. This applies to all learning and performance. It applies to problem solving. And problem solving directly feeds into literacy, mathematics, science, you name it.

Some of my first graders already struggle with a perfectionist mindset. One thing about first graders is that they are very concrete. There is right and there is wrong. There is good and there is bad. It can be a challenge helping them to see that there isn't only back and white, but also many shades of grey. However; adult influences on them are so strong at this young age while their minds and beliefs are molding. They need the right words to give themselves. It's crucial they learn that progress is slow, and should be wrapped in grace. That mistakes lend themselves to that progress, and aren't a sign of failure. Because, at the end of the day a child who believes that they can learn to read is going to make far more progress than a child who secretly fears they won't be able to read. And that has nothing to do with skills they know (I'm not saying teaching skills isn't important -it is!). We need to be teaching them the proper verbage to use in their own self-talk in order to see risk as opportunity rather than a fear to avoid. It's vital I'm teaching the whole child in order to set them up for a life of successful problem solving and learning.

Sometimes It's What We Don't Say

Remember not only to say the right thing at the right place, but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment. - Benjamin Franklin

This past weekend was fantastic. The kind where you don't set an alarm clock, and instead spend the morning enjoying copious amounts of hazelnut french-pressed coffee while perusing blogs with your loved one- education and lifestyle for her, and sports for him. The type where you relax with your family -both sides, and spend hours coloring and rough housing with your niece. The kind where you spend two hours making gnocchi and gouda cheese sauce from scratch. The fantastic kind of weekend.

Well, Sunday morning I got a little bit too much into that carefree, relaxed feeling. Okay, I get too relaxed and carefree every Sunday morning. I don't know what it is, but I make myself, and my husband, late for church every. single. weekend. Seriously. I could start getting ready an hour early, and I'd still find a way to make us a minute or two late. It's like it's my calling (no, it's definitely not, but you'd think it was). Since I'm so consistent in my late-running ways, Pete likes to gently encourage me to start getting ready a few minutes early each Sunday. I usually give him the "I have plenty of time, I'll start in 5 minutes" routine, and this week was no different. You know what else was no different? Me...walking out the door 10 minutes late. When I looked at the time I felt my chest fall as I realized my habit in lateness continued. I slipped into the car and waited for it...you know, one of the many variations of the "I told you so, when are you going to get it" type of phrases. A couple of minutes went by and I didn't hear anything. Where was it?? Surely we weren't going to drive all the way to church without one comment on my tardiness. So, I waited a bit longer. Nothing. It's now 3 days later and I still haven't heard anything, so I think I'm safe at this point to say it isn't coming.

Once inside church we met with our small group. We're doing a study together on The 5 Love Languages and one of the love languages is Words of Affirmation. At the end, we were asked to reflect on a recent time we had received words of affirmation. It was then that I realized the greatest source of affirmation I had received that day, were the words Pete didn't speak to me in the car that morning. By refraining from commenting on how I was late again, he silently voiced to me "It's okay. I know you're trying, and that's enough".


I felt such a huge weight of relief, and quite honestly love, from Pete when he didn't voice the all too easy "you did it again" words. He was showing me love in his silence.He knows me, and therefore he knows I'm usually harder on myself than anyone else could be anyways. Because of that, I think he subconsciously knew that the best way he could help me was just to say nothing at all.

 If some people speak and feel love dominantly through words, they can probably feel hurt just as intensely from words. Therefore; I think that what we don't say has just as much ability to love, help, and encourage people as what we do say.

It's a challenging thing- knowing when to speak, and when not to speak. But, it's pretty exciting too. To get to know yourself on a deeper level, know others better, slowing down and reflecting in order to be able to communicate in a more effective, and positive way.....it's a huge growth opportunity. An adventure, really. One that I'm pretty excited to begin.

Whose Fault is it Anyways?

This afternoon I looked up at the clock and it read 1:24. Art was going to start in precisely one minute. And where were we? Scattered around the room like little lost lambs trying to figure out how to clean-up our first rotation of math stations properly. Crap. I looked at the noise and the chaos around me, and I could hear the imaginary clock in my head ticking away....30 seconds until art...15 seconds until art....the art teacher is probably standing at the door right now. My voice began to tense, my words began to get shorter and more terse as I let the kids know their art time was beginning and they needed to be lined up oh...3 minutes ago? I didn't have a mirror, but I can imagine that my face probably looked less serene than the more calm version of myself. Sometimes, getting to specials on time can feel like running late for an appointment in a 5 o'clock traffic jam on the freeway.

Finally, we're ready. 1:27....1:29 by the time we arrive.

On the way back to the room, my body relaxed. The flush in my rosacea-prone cheeks probably began to settle. And suddenly it hit me: it wasn't the childrens' fault we had been late to art -it was mine. I had carefully crafted out a schedule where we could fit in one round of math stations before specials...if we stopped by 1:20. Except, that day, I didn't signal them to clean up until 1:23 (I sound extreme but I'm telling ya, every minute counts with these little ones). On top of that, I had given them a box completely stuffed full of popsicle sticks at one of their stations. And, I expected them to figure out how to fit all of them back in properly, with no modeling, within one minute on their first try? Five and six year olds? HA. The joke was definitely on me this time.

The point is, I allowed myself to get short, and firm, with others over something that was actually my own doing. Now, there are days when they have more than enough time to clean-up and line-up, and well, it's just not happening unless I learn to perform miracles. I like to hope that those times are not on me - that's just how it goes with kids some days. This wasn't one of those days though. This time I was responsible, and I had a lesson to learn. And that's okay- as long as my eyes and heart are open in order to receive it.

It was a crucial reminder. Kids need time, modeling, and more time. I needed to take responsibility for that, instead of putting it on them to feel responsible. Next time, I will.

I think this actually happens in many areas of our lives. How often do we internally place responsibility, or blame, on others for something that was actually our own doing? We can't believe how long the barista is taking to make our drink, we're going to be late for our appointment! Except, actually, we didn't leave ten minutes earlier to allow for a coffee run in the first place. The list could go on and on. It could get more personal, and hit a bit sharper in the heart. I get it though, the lesson's there, and I'm ready to learn.


When circumstances begin to turn, and feelings of blame begin to arise, it's important to take an unbiased look at our role in the situation. After all, if we can't admit our mistakes, how can we allow room for growth? To me, being closed off to growth is a far greater loss than making an error. I'll take responsibility for the mistake instead, please. At least then, there's room for change. Change that is actually within our own control ;).