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 ;).