Everyone likes to be "believed in". What does it mean to believe in someone or to have someone believe in you? People try to explain it by describing it as trust, support, and faith. Merriam-Webster defines it as "to have a firm conviction as to the goodness, efficacy, or ability of something". Belief is an elusive concept; one that is not easy to explain. If it's not easy to explain, how can it be taught? None of the words used to describe or define it are concrete or demonstrative. In essence, belief is an abstract concept, yet ask a person why they think a person was important to them and chances are you get the response, "Because they believed in me."
Believing in others is more than just telling someone you believe in them and more than doing something nice for them. It's a combination of actions, thoughts, and feelings. How do you interact with that individual? Do you lend a helping hand, listen to their troubles, ask questions, allow them to grow and develop on their own? Are you sincere and humble in your interactions with them? Do you stick with that person through the good times and bad times?
Cheryl exemplified what it is to "believe in" someone. She embodied all of the traits I mention above and more! Cheryl was the head of the PE department at college and also the head coach of the local skating academy, and I know I'm not the only person who was blessed to have her in my life. She was just an awesome person to know and became a good friend of mine throughout the years. Cheryl is someone whom I try to emulate, but fall drastically short. I learned many things from her and accomplished a lot with her help, but her guidance was very subtle and discreet. She let me make my own mistakes and never chastised me for my decisions.
I couldn't have accomplished what I did alone, or without her believing in me. She was patient when I made mistakes, allowing me to come to her instead of approaching me first. She listened when I needed someone to talk to. Some times she offered advice, other times she just let me talk. Cheryl had a way of leading people to the correct answers on their own. She made sure I had food to eat. Being a poor college student, working my way through school, there were times I didn't eat right; either I didn't have the time between classes and work, or more frequently, I didn't have the money to eat more than ramen noodles for months on end. (Hell, I didn't even have money for Quarters at Uphill 41 were beer was 25 cents on Thursdays!) Periodically, Cheryl would have me over for dinner or invite me out to eat to discuss coaching or the skating team. It was her way of making sure I was getting a good meal once in awhile.
After I graduated, we kept in touch and I visited a few times before she succumbed to cancer. She was upbeat and positive, always asking me about what was going on in my life. On my last visit with her, we had brunch at Kaleva Cafe. I'll never forget our conversation or what she shared with me that day. She shared her first impression of me when we first met and told me how proud she was of what I had become. (Her first thought when meeting me was, "Oh Dear!") After some laughs and reminiscing about mistakes I made along the way, I told her I couldn't have done it without her help. Cheryl just smiled and told me, "I didn't do anything. It was how you handled each opportunity that made you successful."
That one statement, so simple, combined with her current expression and past actions, told me that she believed in me. She was humble in the part she played. She created those opportunities for me, but never took the credit for them. Cheryl provided guidance when I asked, never making me feel bad or unsuccessful for acknowledging I needed help. Under her tutelage, I became a head coach of another local skating club
and the assistant director of another, earning my Professional
Skater's Association coaching certification in Free Skating,
Synchronized Skating, Power Hockey, and Sports Medicine &
Nutrition. She and I also formed a collegiate skating team, which
placed 7th at Nationals two years after it was started!
I'll never know what made her take a chance on a little punk with her head half shaved and the remaining hair colored pink, green, teal, black, and flame red. But all her actions, support, help, and guidance throughout the years tells me she believed in me from the start. Yet, the memories and examples still don't provide an accurate definition of believing in someone.
To build on Merriam-Websters' definition of belief in someone: to
have a firm conviction as to the ability of someone which is supported
by actions, words, and sentiments occurring over a duration of time. But it still doesn't provide a tangible definition and is open to subjectivity. If you can't concretely explain it, how can you teach it? Believing in someone is a concept you can only teach by example through a combination of words and actions, but it's a demonstration that takes time. These days, it's hard to find someone willing to invest time in another person.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Lesson 1: How a car teaches many lessons
Recently, I was thinking about my father and everything I learned from him. Some of it he intentionally taught me, while other items I learned were through circumstance. The easy items to write about are the skills he taught. My father believed that his little girl should be able to take care of herself. So began the intentional lessons and learnings.
One of the items he believed strongly in was car maintenance. From an early age, evenings and weekends were spent in the garage with him learning about cars; changing the oil, replacing brake pads, troubleshooting various noises and sounds, replacing CV joints (CV stands for continuous velocity in case anyone was wondering), and all sorts of other things he enjoyed tinkering with.
Of course, these were all items I hated doing growing up. Really, why was I being punished by doing all this stuff? My cousin was interested in learning about cars, so why wasn't he over here helping my dad? (My cousin, by the way, learned all he could from dad and now owns a great body shop!) But a strange thing happened as I got older, moved away to college, and bought my first car. I ended up relying on those skills to keep a little beat up Sable I bought for $150 running. And that Sable lent it's engine and transmission to a Taurus I bought for $200. I think I invested about $500-$600 at the MOST into my car. I remember weekends in the school parking lot or at the Wheeler House (MTU's 4X4 club where many members lived and tools and advice were readily available) replacing the axle, doing the brakes, replacing the starter, and other necessary items. The biggest undertaking was swapping the engine and transmission from one car to the other. And all of this was accomplished because my father forced me to work with him in the backyard as I was growing up. To be fair, I did have a lot of guys willing to help me at school, but they taught me how to do the tasks I didn't know how to do rather than do it for me. Cars and mechanics didn't intimidate me after having grown up around a backyard mechanic and I was eager to learn from a hot guy at school. Funny how hormones can help change a person's attitude about learning!
But the story continues...I moved to Cleveland (3 hours from my family versus 10 hours at school) for a job. It was my father's first time seeing my car after hearing about all the work I had put into it. Amazingly enough, he didn't mention all the times I argued that I shouldn't be helping him fix one of our cars while growing up. He had a look of pride in his eyes and just said, in normal dad fashion, "Not bad for what you've got invested in it. Hell, you've already had it for a year and been able to drive it for 550 miles a stretch without breaking down, so I'd say you found a good investment."
A few weeks after that exchange, I was visiting again and knew it was time to replace the power steering pump. What was supposed to be a quick job ended up lasting several days longer due to a funeral. What started as me working on the car, with some assistance from my little brother (it was my time to teach him!), ended up in an large argument with my father. He wanted to help me and thought I still had stuff to learn. Plus, he just wanted to do what he loved doing with his baby girl and bond over their experience. Me, being the strong independent female he taught me to be, didn't want help. I could do this on my own, and I'd done a lot more complex repairs on my own! So we argued and argued, finally both going off in different directions without saying a word. Him to the house, me back to Cleveland. As I was leaving my mother tried to get me to talk to my father. She explained that he was only trying to help and wanted to spend time with me.
And my next lesson learned around my first car was an unintentional learning from my father. I got a phone call the next day from my mother. All she would tell me was that my aunt and uncle were on their way to pick me up and I had to come home immediately. I knew right then that my father was gone. He had passed away. It was ironic because at the time of death, I was thinking I needed to call him and explain why I didn't want his involvement the day before. He had always told me never to leave someone while you are upset or angry words were exchanged. That evening, I realized he was right. I never got a chance to tell him why I didn't want his help with my car. It wasn't because I didn't love him, want his help, or want to be around him. It's because I wanted to show him this skill he taught me over the years - how to take care of my car. I wanted him to see that his baby girl was grown up and could take care of herself and he didn't have anything to worry about. But I never got that chance. And I learned the hard way to never leave someone while you are angry. And all of this is tied to a single car (well, two that combined to make one).
A few months later, I sold that car and bought a brand new one. I let 12 years go by without working on a car. Just the other weekend, I was helping a friend with some car 'stuff', and realized I missed wrenching on cars. Spending time with friends (or family), complaining about the design and how you would have done it differently, and just general BS'ing with one another are all aspects of working on a car. It's much more than solely solving a mechanical problem. Some of my favorite memories among friends involve car maintenance.
And then, I started remembering all the things my father taught me that I never got a chance to thank him for; things he wanted me to learn and actively taught me as well as items he taught me by example. And the things he taught by example - they are the truly important things I've forgotten over the past few years, but am slowly starting to remember. Funny how a car can teach us so many lessons...
One of the items he believed strongly in was car maintenance. From an early age, evenings and weekends were spent in the garage with him learning about cars; changing the oil, replacing brake pads, troubleshooting various noises and sounds, replacing CV joints (CV stands for continuous velocity in case anyone was wondering), and all sorts of other things he enjoyed tinkering with.
Of course, these were all items I hated doing growing up. Really, why was I being punished by doing all this stuff? My cousin was interested in learning about cars, so why wasn't he over here helping my dad? (My cousin, by the way, learned all he could from dad and now owns a great body shop!) But a strange thing happened as I got older, moved away to college, and bought my first car. I ended up relying on those skills to keep a little beat up Sable I bought for $150 running. And that Sable lent it's engine and transmission to a Taurus I bought for $200. I think I invested about $500-$600 at the MOST into my car. I remember weekends in the school parking lot or at the Wheeler House (MTU's 4X4 club where many members lived and tools and advice were readily available) replacing the axle, doing the brakes, replacing the starter, and other necessary items. The biggest undertaking was swapping the engine and transmission from one car to the other. And all of this was accomplished because my father forced me to work with him in the backyard as I was growing up. To be fair, I did have a lot of guys willing to help me at school, but they taught me how to do the tasks I didn't know how to do rather than do it for me. Cars and mechanics didn't intimidate me after having grown up around a backyard mechanic and I was eager to learn from a hot guy at school. Funny how hormones can help change a person's attitude about learning!
But the story continues...I moved to Cleveland (3 hours from my family versus 10 hours at school) for a job. It was my father's first time seeing my car after hearing about all the work I had put into it. Amazingly enough, he didn't mention all the times I argued that I shouldn't be helping him fix one of our cars while growing up. He had a look of pride in his eyes and just said, in normal dad fashion, "Not bad for what you've got invested in it. Hell, you've already had it for a year and been able to drive it for 550 miles a stretch without breaking down, so I'd say you found a good investment."
A few weeks after that exchange, I was visiting again and knew it was time to replace the power steering pump. What was supposed to be a quick job ended up lasting several days longer due to a funeral. What started as me working on the car, with some assistance from my little brother (it was my time to teach him!), ended up in an large argument with my father. He wanted to help me and thought I still had stuff to learn. Plus, he just wanted to do what he loved doing with his baby girl and bond over their experience. Me, being the strong independent female he taught me to be, didn't want help. I could do this on my own, and I'd done a lot more complex repairs on my own! So we argued and argued, finally both going off in different directions without saying a word. Him to the house, me back to Cleveland. As I was leaving my mother tried to get me to talk to my father. She explained that he was only trying to help and wanted to spend time with me.
And my next lesson learned around my first car was an unintentional learning from my father. I got a phone call the next day from my mother. All she would tell me was that my aunt and uncle were on their way to pick me up and I had to come home immediately. I knew right then that my father was gone. He had passed away. It was ironic because at the time of death, I was thinking I needed to call him and explain why I didn't want his involvement the day before. He had always told me never to leave someone while you are upset or angry words were exchanged. That evening, I realized he was right. I never got a chance to tell him why I didn't want his help with my car. It wasn't because I didn't love him, want his help, or want to be around him. It's because I wanted to show him this skill he taught me over the years - how to take care of my car. I wanted him to see that his baby girl was grown up and could take care of herself and he didn't have anything to worry about. But I never got that chance. And I learned the hard way to never leave someone while you are angry. And all of this is tied to a single car (well, two that combined to make one).
A few months later, I sold that car and bought a brand new one. I let 12 years go by without working on a car. Just the other weekend, I was helping a friend with some car 'stuff', and realized I missed wrenching on cars. Spending time with friends (or family), complaining about the design and how you would have done it differently, and just general BS'ing with one another are all aspects of working on a car. It's much more than solely solving a mechanical problem. Some of my favorite memories among friends involve car maintenance.
And then, I started remembering all the things my father taught me that I never got a chance to thank him for; things he wanted me to learn and actively taught me as well as items he taught me by example. And the things he taught by example - they are the truly important things I've forgotten over the past few years, but am slowly starting to remember. Funny how a car can teach us so many lessons...
Monday, July 26, 2010
Intro: Lessons of Love
This blog began as a requirement for a course I took in pursuit of my Masters in Instructional Design & Technology, hence the earlier learning theory posts. But, just the other day, I was thinking about all the other ways we learn aside from formal education; how we learn, who we learn from, and what learning shapes us into the individuals we are today. A lot of who we are as adults is shaped through our experiences when we were younger. Most of the time, we don't even recognize the skills and traits we are being taught or even appreciate them until it is much too late to thank our instructors.
As I turn another year older this week, I began reminiscing about my father and all he taught me during our time together. Honestly, I didn't realize the impact he had on me until now, 13 years after he passed away. And there are others, too, who I might not have known very well or remember their names, but who have had a huge impact on who I've become. The sad thing is, I lost the person I once was and everything I once knew and am just now letting this person re-emerge.
Over the following weeks, I hope to post snippets about each of the lessons I learned throughout the years from all the wonderful individuals who taught me skills, ethics, leadership, and values that I learned along the way. Some of these items are not things someone can hand you a book or lecture you on. The learning occurs through constructivism, sometimes social, most of the time individual, but is a combination of cognitive development and social context.
Some posts will be short, others may ramble, but the link to them all is love. Think about what values you would like to live by and how you share those with others as you read the posts to follow. How would you demonstrate to your children or family the importance of loyalty, family, great friends, compassion, empathy, leadership, pursuing your dreams, and the value of hard work?
As I turn another year older this week, I began reminiscing about my father and all he taught me during our time together. Honestly, I didn't realize the impact he had on me until now, 13 years after he passed away. And there are others, too, who I might not have known very well or remember their names, but who have had a huge impact on who I've become. The sad thing is, I lost the person I once was and everything I once knew and am just now letting this person re-emerge.
Over the following weeks, I hope to post snippets about each of the lessons I learned throughout the years from all the wonderful individuals who taught me skills, ethics, leadership, and values that I learned along the way. Some of these items are not things someone can hand you a book or lecture you on. The learning occurs through constructivism, sometimes social, most of the time individual, but is a combination of cognitive development and social context.
Some posts will be short, others may ramble, but the link to them all is love. Think about what values you would like to live by and how you share those with others as you read the posts to follow. How would you demonstrate to your children or family the importance of loyalty, family, great friends, compassion, empathy, leadership, pursuing your dreams, and the value of hard work?
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