Teachable Spirit

I was pretty much a straight “A” student in school–the exceptions were “B”s in Chemistry and Physics.  I wasn’t exceptionally smart; I just knew how to get an “A”:  do the homework, study for tests, pay attention in class, be nice to the teacher (which I’m certain was often the deciding factor between my receiving a B+ or an A-).

For the most part, I liked school.  I liked the predictability of it, I liked knowing what was expected, and I liked that “A”s told me I was doing things right.

Ironically, though, I wasn’t a very good student.

I skimmed chapters to look for answers rather than read for the purpose of actually gaining knowledge.   I didn’t challenge myself to figure out the word problems in math assignments; I knew I had enough extra credit built up to cover me if I skipped them.  I crammed for tests at the last minute to fill my head with the information I needed to get a good grade; after that, it was free to go.

Basically, I didn’t really care about learning anything–I just wanted the “A”.

Once I got out of school, though, there were no more “A”s.  There were no report cards coming every 10 weeks assuring me that I was doing things right.  Sure an employer can tell you if you’re meeting expectations, but it’s not the same as a little chart in black and white giving you “thumbs up” in all the boxes.  Needless to say, I missed that lack of tangible approval.

I realized recently that even though grades were no longer a factor, that straight “A” mentality stuck with me as an adult:  I wanted to do things right.  That may sound like a good thing, but it also meant that I hesitated to try something if I wasn’t sure I’d be good at it.  If I didn’t feel I could ace it, I’d usually steer clear of it.  Not surprisingly, if you’re not willing to mess up occasionally that really cuts down on your list of available options, and your world stays pretty small.

One of the great things about getting older is that we, hopefully, gain perspective.  We get better at discerning what does and doesn’t matter.  We get better at seeing things for what they are instead of what we imagined them to be.  We get better at hearing what people are saying without them even saying it.  And, thankfully, in the midst of all that, we get better at not taking ourselves so darn seriously.

For the past six weeks I’ve been watching Youtube tutorials on how to play the ukulele.  Something about ukuleles just seems fun.  Maybe because their size and sound are so much less intimidating than a full-size guitar or a piano, for example.  Plus, uke players are always smiling–honestly, have you ever seen a sad ukulele player?  Me neither.  So I borrowed my friend’s ukulele and started watching videos, going in humbly but fully expecting straight “A” success.

Ugh.
It was horrible.
Truly, truly, horrible.
My strumming sounded nothing like their strumming.  It took me two weeks to figure out my uke wasn’t in tune (thanks, HJ).  Things improved slightly after that…and then a little more slightly.  I haven’t learned any actual songs yet (damn you, G7!), but the uke and I are producing some not so horrible and–dare I say–even pleasant sounds.  And I am pleased to report that I have noticeable callouses building up on my fingertips from practicing.

If I took a ukulele test tomorrow, I would not get an “A”.  I doubt I would even squeak by with a “C”–unless I was extra nice to the teacher.  I’m really quite terrible.  But I don’t care.  I am having so much fun!  I am learning something just for the sake of learning.  There’s no grade at stake.  There’s no end of the semester looming.  There’s no teacher to please.  I’m just trying something new…taking the risk to try something new, whether I’ll be good at it or not.

After years and years of “A”s…I finally have a teachable spirit.

And that’s carrying over into other things.
Reading things I didn’t think would “fit” my thinking.
Being more brave with people and places.
Asking and going and doing without overanalyzing the odds of success.

I’m getting “C”s and “D”s…and loving it.

Simply,

absolutely

loving it.

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I’m coming for you, G7!

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Don’t Toot Your Own Horn—Says Who?

You know that expression, “Don’t toot your own horn”?  I know it means don’t brag about yourself, but I was thinking about and picturing that saying this morning.  I was wondering what “your own horn” looks like and where exactly it’s located in the human body.  And that led to a few very enjoyable minutes of nonsense, entertaining myself with possibilities.

For example, I gave a little arm pump and heard a semi horn blow.  Two quick hand squeezes made the sound of a traditional clown horn.  Index finger trigger pulls produced the subtle honks of a mild-mannered goose.  A speedy side-to-side hip bump recreated the Road Runner’s Beep! Beep!  However, circling the hips slowly resulted in an old-timey car horn…AHOOGA! (had to google the spelling on that).  And chicken-dance arm flapping brought about tuba sounds—who knew?

Within just a couple of minutes I was completely sold on the idea of, in fact, tooting your own horn whenever possible.  Why should I wait for someone else to toot my horn?  They don’t even know where it is and finding it could be tricky—I’m extremely ticklish.

So, who better than us to toot our own horns?  Whatever calamity may be upon us at the moment, if we can just find enough mojo to squeeze our trigger finger and generate a lighthearted honk! honk! that burden may just fall right off our shoulders and send us happily on our way.

How about we recruit coworkers, friends, and family to join us in this endeavor?  Let’s invite them to find their own horns and toot them as needed.  Maybe we can even team up to create a lovely offbeat, ridiculous symphony of glee.

Music to our ears…as we do the chicken dance.

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AHOOGA?
Yeah, that’s not how I would have spelled it either.

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