Wednesday, September 16, 2020

WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Thank a Teacher

 

THANK A TEACHER      
    
 
"A good teacher is like a candle - it consumes itself to light the way for others."  Mustafa Kemal Ataturk
 
      

 
    


Without a doubt, these are challenging times for teachers. Besides their role in imparting knowledge, teaching thinking skills, and assisting each child to become exceptional in his or her own way, this year they are playing a critical role in helping our world return to something close to normal. In this Wednesday Wisdom, I want to thank one of my most memorable teachers, and in doing so, express gratitude to millions of other teachers who daily wade into the deep waters of our children's education.  
 
I was profoundly blessed by many teachers and coaches in my 19 years of formal education. One who had the greatest impact was J.B. Varnell, my English teacher during my senior year of high school.  
 
Due to our family's tenuous financial situation, my attending college in the fall was heavily dependent on securing a scholarship. The key scholarship required that I write an essay about influential people in my life. I wrote the essay and asked Mr. Varnell if he would check the spelling and grammar. He took it and said he would review it and get back to me.
 
The next day, Mr. Varnell said, "Scott, I think you've done a pretty good job with this, but I see something that concerns me. I don't think I've done as good a job as I would like to have done in teaching you how to write for college. Why don't you come back after school and we'll work on your writing skills."  
 
That afternoon, I learned that he was not content to merely correct the spelling and grammar of my essay, or even to help me revise it. His plan was to give me an extended one-to-one tutorial on how to write at the college level. For the next week, we met every day before school, at lunch, and after school, while he instructed me on the finer points of expository writing. Then he sent me out on my own to rewrite the essay.  
 
What I did not appreciate at the time was that he was doing all this on his personal time, time when he could have been working on his own projects, hanging out in the teachers' lounge, or going home to be with his own family. There was no added pay for his service to me, no reward for him other than the joy of helping a needy student better prepare for the future.    
 
After I rewrote the essay, I brought it back and we reviewed it together. Mr. Varnell was beaming when he read the final version. It sharply highlighted my strengths and life experiences, making the case for why I deserved the scholarship.  
 
I submitted the essay and my application to the scholarship committee and a few weeks later I received some very good news: I was awarded the scholarship. It covered FULL TUITION for FOUR YEARS. Thank you, Mr. Varnell. What an amazing blessing you gave me!
 
But securing the scholarship was only the beginning of the impacts of Mr. Varnell's gift.  
 
When I went to college that fall, like all new students, I took a placement test to determine which freshman English class I would register for - remedial, average or advanced. Having attended a little Podunk high school in desolate Kirtland, New Mexico, I worried that I wouldn't test well and would be relegated to the remedial track, or what we students affectionately called "dumbbell English."  
 
To my surprise and thanks again to Mr. Varnell's tutelage, I tested into Advanced Freshman English. That turned out to be a major learning opportunity for me. It was primarily an intense and accelerated writing class taught by a full professor. The competition was extremely keen. At the end of the semester, the professor gave only one A in that class. It may have been on my report card, but I felt it really belonged to Mr. Varnell.  
 
A few years later I went to law school. I fully attribute my admission into law school, my eventual appointment as Managing Editor of the Brigham Young University Law Review, and my completion and publication of two professional scholarly articles during law school to that marvelous one-to-one tutorial I received in high school during those extra-curricular sessions with Mr. Varnell. His sacrifice on my behalf set the stage for my professional success. For me, his generosity was the gift that kept on giving.
 
* * * * *
 
It is interesting to me how life sometimes has a way of coming back around. In 1999, a few months after moving to Orlando, I got a telephone call from a young man named Steve Lee. I didn't know Steve, because he had been away at college since our arrival in Orlando, but I knew his parents from church.  
 
He said, "Hello, Mr. Farnsworth, this is Steve Lee. I am Dan and June Lee's son. I'm home for a few weeks on spring break."  
 
"Oh, nice to meet you," I said.  
 
"I understand, Mr. Farnsworth, that you are an attorney."  
 
"That's true," I replied.  
 
"I understand that attorneys know how to write fairly well."  
 
"We think we do, I guess."  
 
"Well, I need some help. I'm applying to medical school, and I have to submit an essay as part of my application. I've written an essay about why I want to go to medical school. I need to complete it during spring break. I wonder if you would be so kind as to check the spelling and grammar."  
 
A big lump came up in my throat. You already know who I was thinking about - J.B. Varnell. That was the same request I had made of him back in the spring of 1970: "Will you please check the spelling and grammar?"
 
Even though I was incredibly busy during the next two weeks, I could not merely check Steve Lee's spelling and grammar. Instead, Steve and I spent many hours together as I gave him pointers on how to create the best possible essay. By the time we finished, he had written an essay that we were both pleased for him to submit to the medical school admissions committee.  
 
A couple of months later, I received another phone call from Steve Lee. "Hi, Mr. Farnsworth, guess what? I've got great news. I've been accepted at the medical school at Washington University in St. Louis. Thank you so much for your help with my application essay."  
 
Today, Dr. Steve Lee is a pain management specialist at Ochsner Medical Center in New Orleans. Dr. Lee completed his medical training at Washington University, then went on to perform an internship at Tufts University and a residency at Harvard Medical School in Boston, Massachusetts.  
 
As I said, these things have a way of coming back around. Now I am wondering who will be asking Dr. Steve Lee for his help with their application.
 
This wonderful thread of giving service and then paying it forward leads back to an unselfish high school English teacher in Kirtland, New Mexico, who was willing to take the time from his own busy life to tutor an unpolished student writer and equip him with the tools of success. Thank you, Mr. Varnell, for making such an enormous difference in my life. And thank you also to millions of other teachers who every day make such a huge difference in the lives of their young students.

Wednesday, September 2, 2020

WEDNESDAY WISDOM: What You Know That Just Ain't So



WHAT YOU KNOW THAT JUST AIN'T SO

 
"It ain't so much the things that people don't know that makes trouble in this world, as it is the things that people know that just ain't so."   
Mark Twain     

   



 
Marcie and I have a white Amazon Echo at our house that we mostly use to play our favorite music. Sometimes we use our music selections to send affectionate messages to each other.  

On the evening of our 45th anniversary a few weeks ago, Marcie wanted Alexa to play "You've Made Me So Very Happy." I was beaming at her tender sentiment.

"Alexa, play 'You Make Me Happy' by Chicago," she told the machine.

Alexa then announced a song we never heard of: "You Make Me Dance" by "Shades of Chicago." Clearly this was not what Marcie was looking for.

"Alexa, stop."

Marcie tried again, this time enunciating her instructions more sweetly and carefully: "Alexa, please play 'You Made Me So Happy' by Chicago."

Alexa proceeded to play a different song we never heard of, again with "happy" in the title and Chicago in the name of the group, but definitely not "You've Made Me So Very Happy."

"Alexa, stop!" Marcie quickly interjected.

"You tell her," she told me in frustration. "She listens better to you than to me. And it is by Chicago, right?"

"Yes," I replied. "I'm quite sure it is."  

I tried giving instructions, speaking slowly and clearly in my best "Alexa, I'm the boss here" voice. "Alexa, play 'You've Made Me So Very Happy' by Chicago."

Same result: strange song, strange group.

"Alexa, STOP!!!"

Now I too was irritated with Alexis' recalcitrance.  

"Why don't you look it up and play it on your iPad," I suggested to Marcie.

Within a few seconds she reported, "Here's the problem: It's 'You've Made Me So Very Happy' by Blood, Sweat & Tears, NOT by Chicago."

"Alexa, play 'You've Made Me So Very Happy' by Blood, Sweat & Tears."

Alexa then played the correct song. By then, unfortunately, the magical moment was gone, but it was fun to hear.

* * * * *

This little episode may hold a lesson for all of us.

It suggests that it might be helpful sometimes to ask ourselves, "Besides confusing Chicago with Blood, Sweat & Tears, are there other areas in my life in which I should allow for the possibility that what I 'know" perhaps 'just ain't so'"?

From my good friend Nancy Kline, the author of Time to Think, I have learned that all of us operate our lives on the basis of a wide collection of underlying assumptions (what we "know"). While most of them are true, some of them are not true (what "just ain't so") and can limit our ability to think clearly for ourselves and achieve the best results.  

On occasion, a bit of faulty information - such as who recorded "You've Made Me So Very Happy"- gets in the way of a positive outcome. Other times, we have drawn the wrong conclusions from an experience, either our own or someone else's. These can create untrue and limiting assumptions, which can block high-quality thinking and action.

Self-confidence is a useful character trait, but in too strong a dosage, it can injure us. Being TOO SURE, TOO COCKY, can be dangerous. By mixing a little shot of humility with our self-confidence, we can formulate a healthy antidote to knowing too much that just ain't so. With humility, we can question our assumptions from time to time and we can recognize those that might be untrue and might be inhibiting our best thinking.  

This simple act of questioning what we "know" to be true can create a burst of great thinking. I have learned that a wellspring of good ideas often lies just beneath an untrue limiting assumption. Powerful breakthroughs result from identifying and then thinking beyond "what we know that just ain't so."

And it will definitely improve our relationship with Alexa or Siri.

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Generous Uncle Jack


GENEROUS UNCLE JACK

 
"Generosity isn't an act.  It's a way of life."  Chip Ingram    

   



Jack Manning, my favorite uncle, passed away a few weeks ago. The picture his family used on his funeral program was a reminder that he served his country in combat in the Korean War, where he was severely wounded and was awarded the Purple Heart.

Uncle Jack played a huge role in my early life. Besides being my uncle, he was my Scoutmaster and a youth leader at our church in my teenage years. His oldest son Jackie and I were best friends during most of that time, as well as cousins and classmates in our small junior high and high school, so I spent a lot of time at their house.  

While my own father had his hands full keeping 12 children busy and out of mischief, and keeping 50 Holsteins fed and milked every morning and every night, Uncle Jack was the "fun father" figure in my life. He took us on numerous camp outs, fishing trips, youth activities, and other adventures.  

He had the special gift of knowing how to make teenagers feel loved, understood, and appreciated. He was the grown-up who was willing to listen to your worries and dreams, and then help you address those worries and make those dreams come true. Other guys my age who grew up in the same small town also recalled how much Jack Manning was involved in their youth activities, always with a twinkle in his eye and a deep generosity with his time and attention.

Financially, Uncle Jack was probably the most generous person I have personally known, but always quietly and anonymously; never in a public way. Once I recognized his pattern for giving, I became aware that, over the years, hundreds of folks in our area were recipients of his largesse without ever knowing the source of their gifts.  

Often that assistance came via Jack's church leaders. Many of them later recounted receiving frequent "hundred-dollar handshakes" from Jack, with a wink telling them to find someone who needed a little help dealing with life's troubles. Those "extras" were always in addition to a generous tithing and fast offering donation, for Jack seemed to understand that the real blessings come only in the "second mile" of giving or serving.

I asked Jackie if he knew why his father was always so kind and generous. Jackie told me that when Uncle Jack and Aunt JoAnn were young marrieds with two little boys, they returned home one evening to find their house ablaze. They were able to rescue their babies and the babysitter, but the house and its contents were a total and uninsured loss. In the midst of their shock, a friend came to Uncle Jack and handed him $500 to help him rebuild. That was a huge chunk of money in the mid-1950s.

Jack told his friend that he couldn't accept the money because he didn't think he could ever repay it.

The friend replied, "I don't expect you to repay it. It's a gift. But when you get back on your feet and have the means, just remember this day and share your blessings with others."

Uncle Jack took that lesson to heart and lived by it all his life. He used his good fortune to bless others, whether strangers, friends, or relatives.

Uncle Jack was extremely kind to our large family. We never had a television in the Farnsworth house until Uncle Jack showed up one evening with one that a customer of his had given him to pay off a bill. Jack didn't need it himself, but he knew we could use one in our home.

His generosity to us went far beyond a television set. Uncle Jack operated a trading post in Shiprock on the Navajo Reservation, A trading post is not exactly Saks Fifth Avenue; it's a store stocked with the basic things of a rural life, like clothes, shoes, household notions, and other supplies. It was like a small general store that also traded for sheep, goats, Navajo rugs, silver and turquoise jewelry, and the like.  

Our family of 12 children lived on a small dairy farm that bordered the San Juan River, across from the Navajo Indian reservation. Things were difficult for us financially so we raised much of our own food. We had dairy cows, chickens, pigs, a few beef cattle, gardens, and orchards, and we were able to provide for ourselves that way. Shoes and clothes, however, posed a real challenge for my parents. Fourteen pairs of feet were a lot to keep in shoes, and those things required cash money.

Recognizing our predicament, Uncle Jack invited my parents to buy clothes and shoes and other necessities at the trading post for wholesale. Each month or so, our family drove to the trading post after business hours and got the things we needed. What a huge and ongoing blessing that was to us.

Before we went to Shiprock on one of those shopping trips, we invariably had a family meeting to decide who would get what that month. My father was not one to tolerate any sort of "confusion," as he called it, when we got to the store.
 
I recall when I was about 11, I had decided that I was due a new pair of shoes, but the family council had determined that I was not going to get a new pair of shoes, and this left me very upset. I can still remember sitting in the back seat of the car in the driveway, the whole family ready to go but unable to leave because "Scott is throwing a fit." My father stood in the driveway, trying to reason with me through the open window of the car.  

Finally, after some minutes of unsuccessfully trying to persuade me to be happy about what I was going to get, he did something very unexpected. He lifted up his shoe and laid it on the window sill of the car, then turned it over to show me the bottom. These were his good Sunday shoes and the bottoms were totally broken out. There wasn't enough leather left to re-sole them, even if we had had the money.

He looked me straight in the eye and he said, "Scott, we can't afford to buy me new shoes today, and we cannot afford to buy you new shoes either. Do you understand, son?"  

Did I ever! In an instant, through the image powerfully conveyed by that single, unforgettable, moment, I understood what money meant in the Farnsworth family that day. That moment was indelible. It still shapes the way I think of money; it still affects the way I respond when my children ask me for things.

Over the years, in my mind I have juxtaposed that image of my father's broken-out shoes in the driveway, with the memories of Uncle Jack helping our struggling family with shoes, clothes, and other staples bought wholesale at the trading post in Shiprock. In our hour of greatest need, he was there to give us aid and support, cheerfully staying at the store after hours to serve us, allowing us to stretch our meager dollars as far as possible. All the while there was a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

Being charitable is a powerful virtue, but when you are personally the recipient of such big-heartedness as I was, it warms you to the marrow, and it stays with you as long as you live. Thank you, Uncle Jack, for your life-long lesson in service and generosity. Thank you for teaching all of us that generosity is not an act, it is a way of life.  

Uncle Jack, I am absolutely certain there was a massive crowd at heaven's gate, along with your eternal companion Aunt JoAnn, waiting to welcome you home and thank you for your abundant kindness during your mortal journey.