Probletunities by Carolyn

The school district I used to work for had a special word for difficulties: probletunities. This was intended to give the idea that problems were opportunities for growth or improvement.

To me, the term probletunities seems so very glib, so shmaltzy, as if we should be glad of the barriers or struggles or failures we encounter in our jobs or our relationships or just in our daily lives; that they should be celebrated as chances to grow and improve. "Yippee!" we might say, "I burnt the roast for tonight's dinner and our guests will be here in twenty minutes. Now I have a chance to improve myself by solving this problem!" Or "Hooray! I hit the accelerator instead of the brake and ran into this brick wall. I'm so glad I now have the opportunity to grow as I have the car towed and struggle to find the money for repairs. I know this will ultimately make me a better person." Not likely for most of us.

I dislike the term probletunities, but I do applaud the sentiment. Although it seems counter-intuitive, it is true that we learn more from mistakes or struggles than from successes.

As a parent, grandparent, and educator, I have observed this to be true, yet it is still difficult to allow those we care about to go through difficulties. Not only do we not want to engage in struggles or experience failures ourselves, but we don't want our loved ones to, either.  One of the characteristics almost all parents have in common is that they want the best for their children. We want them to have happy, healthy lives, so we do our best to smooth out the rough spots for them. By not allowing them to experience the common struggles in life and working toward solutions, we may be setting them up to be less responsible, less diligent, less appreciative.

Most of the teachers I have known (and that is a lot!) are, by nature, "helpers". They have a deep desire to nurture and help people, particularly children. Unfortunately, this can lead to being too helpful. It is very common for students to complain about a task being too hard. Our first instinct is to swoop in and help. Rather, we should allow a little reasonable struggle, providing just enough support. This builds persistence, confidence, willingness to try new things. If we are never given the opportunity to try things that are just a little harder than what we have already mastered, how will we ever grow and learn? Everything we ever accomplish as human beings comes about because we have tried something just a little bit harder than what we did before or we have experienced some sort of problem that has forced us to come up with a better way of doing things.

I have seen an increase in what I label "learned helplessness" in children, both in classrooms and with their parents. While I don't think we should go out of our way to make things difficult for children, I do think it is easy to overdo the rescuing we are inclined to do. In my previous life as an assistant principal, I dealt with many parents who were determined not to allow their children to undergo any type of negative consequences for misbehavior. I often told them that it was better to allow children to experience (and survive) small punishments for small infractions when they were young (and, hopefully, learn the concept of cause and effect from it) than to experience those same lessons when they were older, their mistakes were larger, and the punishments more severe.

So, while I don't really like the term probletunities, I do embrace the idea that we learn best by experiencing and overcoming trials and by stretching ourselves to reach just a little bit farther than we were able to yesterday.

at·ten·tion (noun) by andrea

at·ten·tion (noun)

The act of close or careful observing or listening

As in: Lately, I am paying more attention to conversations being had and questions being asked about what is going on in America.  Conversations around rights, freedom, justice, racism, sexism, zenophobia and homophobia; inequality in education, housing, pay. The list goes on and on and on: imprisonment of the mind, body and soul; government and corporate corruption; victim shaming and blaming. One would think that acts of and conversations about brutality, of any kind, in the 21st century in the western world would not be polarizing.  But it is. Another subject from which my attention cannot escape.  

Everyone is talking about, writing about, hollering about something valid, worthy and crucial for the survival of someone, maybe even us all.  I don’t really watch the news outlets or read the papers, but somehow all of these issues enter my consciousness and cry out for me to wake up and stand at attention.  At a time in our country when as a collective we seem wealthier, more erudite, more spatially integrated, my attention keeps being drawn to the poor, the undereducated, the marginalized.  Recently, most of the books, articles, tweets, posts and videos crossing my desktop, newsfeeds and suggestions you may find interesting are about these issues.  

The truth is, there is a major part of me that would like NOT to pay attention.  I would like to bury my head in the sand. It is summer break from my demanding yet rewarding job of teaching, and I would like to be relaxing on the beach with a soft read or hanging out with my friends sipping near grown-up drinks living, for the moment, as if we do not have responsibilities.  Instead, my eyes, ears and heart are being assaulted by a bugle call, a reveille of sorts, to pay attention to what is going on in the world today. This seems to be a theme of my most recent summers. I have my own life and the lives of my loved ones to pay attention to also. My grandmother is aging.  My children are transitioning into adulthood and this signals a life change for my husband and me.  There are physical, emotional and spiritual needs to be met all around me. I have friendships to tend. I have prayers to pray and books to read. I have family reunions and stories to write. 

The struggle is this, however:  I am a part of the collective.  It is impossible for me to separate the ills and struggles of my national community from that of my blood relatives and my friends.  There is a trickle down effect.  For example, as I think about being an “older” woman of inspiration and instruction for my younger cousins having their first babies, I must also pay attention to the thoughts of my real fear of the America these precious hued children will be brought up in.  

I was born in 1972 in a desegregated country.  I was brought up in the American South, the supposed seat of racism, barely a decade following the Civil Rights Movement yet I do not think in my entire lifetime have I ever been as concerned as I am now about being black in America. Though major, this is but one of the national issues at hand on which I must focus. 

Alas, I must pay attention because the daily lives of all the children and people who matter most to me could be at stake.  Though this has always been true, I feel it more acutely today.  Maybe it is because I am getting older and the world is in fact changing. Maybe it is because of the sheer volume of stories out there demonstrating the harsh realities of American life. Yet, despite all the schisms and isms happening before my eyes and streaming into my ears,  I remain optimistic and faithful, maybe more cautioned than a couple of decades ago, but hopeful nonetheless.  

And on days like today, when my heart and hippocampus are full, I will turn off the screen and silence the notifications. I will put away the books and articles. I will go have dinner with my girlfriends. I will text silly and sentimental memes to my children.  I will marvel at the wonder that is my growing grandson.  I will make my daily call to my grandmother to reminisce and laugh. I will cuddle with my husband. I will meditate on things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy. I will hope. I will pray. I will remember that God is always good and always paying attention.  I will put my trust in Him and be at peace.

-Andrea