Working Up

by Dwayne Phillips

We tend to treasure failed tools. It is as if the tool becomes part of me. One remedy is to realize that a tool I use is just that, a tool I use. It is not me.

I don’t know how many times I have seen it. A person is standing at a white board talking to the others in the room. They grasp a dry-erase marker from the white board’s tray, remove the cap, put the marker to the white board, drag it about, and learn that the marker is depleted of ink. Next, and this is the part that makes no sense, they put the cap back on the depleted marker, and put it back in the white board’s tray.

Guess what? This happens again and again. The next person attempts to use the depleted marker and puts it back in the tray for the next person and the next person and the next person.

Why doesn’t someone toss the depleted marker into the trash?

Now let’s extend this past silly little dry-erase markers.

People don’t discard failed tools. Instead, we tend to use them more and more.

We try the same thing over and over. Education is broken in America. The solution is to add money and lengthen the school year, i.e., use the failed tool more and more. Meetings are unproductive. The solution is to have more meetings so we can communicate better, i.e., use the failed tool more and more.

For some reason, we attach ourselves to the tools we use. They become part of us, and we cannot discard a part of us.

Here is a solution:

Realize that a tool is a tool. A tool is not me.

Hmmm, let’s try that one. The dry-erase marker is depleted and useless. I am not the dry-erase marker. I am not depleted of ideas. I can discard the marker and continue working. I am a teacher. The school year is not me. Perhaps the school year is already too long. I can reduce the school year without reducing me.

Hmmm, separating myself from stuff around me allows me to choose what stuff I use and what stuff I discard. I’ll have to remember that one.