My 7th grade class is full of "good" kids. In fact, you might even call them the "best" kids-- if you believed in ranking children. These are the kids that did all their math worksheets without being asked. The kids that were reading with a flashlight by kindergarten. The kids whose immigrant parents told them every day that if they came home with less than an A, they were going to hear about it, and so was everyone on the block. The slipper was going to come out. The Best Education Money can Buy Can't Also Buy you Autonomy These kids have already gotten far. By the 6th grade, they were accepted into TEAK Fellowship, which until 2019 accepted only 30 kids out of hundreds of applicants, to prime them for the best education money could buy. But in their case, the education would be free. It was an attempt to level the playing field, and put them in the circles where they belonged by their own merit. But what to do when-- because of your age, stage and developing personhood-- your whole body is telling you you need to strike out on your own, take risks, be autonomous? And yet, here you are, in a Fellowship, in Family Systems, that expect a lot from you? What's rebelling against authority worth? In their blood and bones, my kids understand what it is to rebel against authority. They may have read a lot about it, but most have never done it. That doesn't mean they don't know what it would taste like. Fizzzzzzzzzz and fire. They might know-- ancestrally, or because of the circles of oppression which they and their families navigate- what it means to have a colonizer breathing down your neck, making you pay at every turn for...for what? They might know what it means to not be represented in a governing body. To have people speak for you who know nothing about you, and can't handle your hair. To see that the dominant system does not have your best interests at heart, nor is able to pronounce (or remember) your last name. Gomez or Gonzalez? Continue Reading …
rejection
Sometimes No is Yes: The Rejection
Give It Up for Rejection Raise your hand if you love rejection, y'all! How about a letter, formally letting you know you've been rejected? How about rejection from that one college you really thought was a safety, or that other one that held all your elaborate dreams in its gated grip? Seth Godin to the Rescue This week, I went on a Seth Godin blog binge. I recommend it: he takes unlikely, creative positions on the most common topics, and I needed some unlikely thinking, because changing baby diapers gets predictable. Luckily, I found Seth's very very smart, tart and brief post on how there is no sense in reading between the lines of a rejection letter because there is nothing there. Usually when we get rejected, our inner critic goes on a criticism carnival. Tears apart the language for truth. Or we snuff out its snide remarks with a vice of choice. Or we assume, dungeon door clanging shut, that the rest of our lives will have all the worth of soiled diapers. A Tale of No and Yes Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a girl-- no, not me, but related to me. She was told by her (prestigious, infamous independent) high school's headmaster, who was an Intellectual Giant and known well by adcoms, that she could piss on a piece of paper and get into her then dream school, XX College. Well, she didn't take him literally (she had common sense), but she did apply with the goal in mind that if piss alone could get her in, surely prose and a nice academic track record would more than guarantee her spot. Wrong. The rejection letter hurt worse than bladder surgery, to push the metaphor. Not only did she not get admitted to XX PISS-ME-THERE College, but she didn't get into any of the other schools on her list either-- reach or safety, realistic or aspirational. Except one. We'll call it: School WTF? A school she'd added as after-thought. A school in which she had no interest; a school which, had she had any choice, would Continue Reading …
Gratitude Glasses
Why put a limit on gratitude? One day each year we're told by the calendar to feel grateful. But this shortchanges what gratitude can do for you, if you practice it beyond the national holiday. In short, gratitude gives everything in your life an upgrade. It makes you a bad-ass in the face of set-backs; It makes you not an ass in the face of great good fortune. And you can make it part of your daily routine, if you're hoping to live a rich existence. And of course we're going to say it has benefits for your college essay (it really does) and your appeal to admissions officers (positivity is attractive). But that is just the beginning of how this feeling and virtue can alter your perspective and prospects for the better. Gratitude's brag sheet Gratitude opens you to what is, rather than what isn't. Gratitude allows you to appreciate, rather than depreciate, your life as it is. Gratitude is anti-consumerism-- it doesn't need more, it always has enough. Gratitude is knowing even the chance to apply to college, the know-how to get through even the simplest application, spells opportunity and privilege. Compare this with the education models available elsewhere in the world and you'll resent the effort a little less. Gratitude is simple-- you can exercise is towards anything. You can be grateful you can read these words, breathe, drink water, pee...no, really, the list never runs out. It's actually inexhaustible. Gratitude gives you a second chance when there is a shit-storm. When things don't go "your way." When you-- if you-- get rejected. When you-- if you---get accepted. Gratitude gains you positivity The chain works like this: Gratitude induces positive feelings where more are needed or where there aren't any. Positive feelings set your nervous system at ease. Positive feelings lower baseline stress. A nervous system at ease is solution-oriented. A nervous system at ease believes things can or will be OK. There is science to Continue Reading …