Why is 90% of the Work Done by 10% of the People? -- Do We Want to Know, or Do We Want to Complain?

You've no doubt heard the phrase, "90% of the work is done by 10% of the people." I know I've been part of the 10% many times -- in church, at school, in organizations that support my kids' activities. Inside the 10%, a sort of smug superiority can breed, bringing about an "Us v. Them" mentality. As in, We who attend all the Meetings and drop Everything to Do All the Things are inherently better that the absent Them, who clearly not have their Priorities in Line, else they would be more like Us. 

I have three kids, as you probably know, ages 17, 15, and 11. I volunteer, trying my best to give my of my time and talents in an equal share to all the activities my kids are involved in. I'm a band mom, a choir mom, a soccer mom, an art mom, a color guard mom. I've been a dance mom, a Cub Scout mom, a baseball mom, a basketball mom, a swim mom. I've also been the director/advisor who has been in charge of various activities. I understand how important parent support is, and I've always been a supportive parent. 

You get the idea. I'm no slouch. 

At the same time, I don't identify with the smug members of Us that judge those who can't get to meetings. After all, there is only so much time in one day, in one week. We're also hobbling our way out of a pandemic, and though some would like to ignore it, there are people who are still immunocompromised and afraid to mix with strangers. There are still people who are healing from the emotional and mental stress of the past 2 years and adding One More Thing just seems impossible. 

I've been thinking recently about why more people don't volunteer these days. Where are those 90%? Why don't they show up? I've already mentioned some possible pandemic-related reasons, but we were starting to see a decline in volunteers prior to 2020. One organization I am part of is facing a new season without most of the officer positions filled. Pleas for help are send out to mass membership on a regular basis. No one is stepping up. 

While I believe there are factors specific to that organization that are in play, I think there are two main reasons people don't volunteer as much any more. And no, actually, I don't think simply having the time is one of them. We have time, and frankly, we are masters at wasting it-- Americans spent 1300 hours on social media in a year, according to this article from Forbes. We have time -- we are just making decisions about how to spend it. 

* First, people are desperately seeking meaningful connection and purpose in their lives. If your meetings are cold, impersonal, or cliquey, why would anyone come back? Why would they prioritize their time to include such an experience? 

* Second, people will devote time, money, energy, sweat, tears, blood -- to a cause they can understand and get behind. Just last weekend, students at Penn State University raised over $13.7 million dollars to fight childhood cancer. 

I recently attended a meeting in which I asked some (I thought) reasonable questions about what the organization I've already mentioned above had planned to do with tens of thousands of dollars in the account. The treasurer and leader of the group gave logical explanations of future plans and expenses. I suggested that we increase communication and transparency so that those who aren't more regularly involved would understand the importance of becoming involved. In return, I was belittled and scolded and chastised. One person nearly threw their back out, huffing and puffing over the audacity of my suggestions and questions. There was a wagging finger involved, guys. This was serious business, evidently. 

(Silly me, I thought when someone said, "Does anyone have any questions?" that meant I was free to ask questions. Lesson learned!) 

When the financial goals were explained, it made sense to me to articulate those to the group at a large, so they could get behind a cause. But, I now realize my seeking a solution was a threat to the smug members of the 10% who want to feel superior to the 90% who can't make it to every meeting (as I was chastised for). So that means we don't have a clearly articulated cause for people to get behind, and judging by the way I was treated at the meeting, we don't have the meaningful connection people are seeking.  

(To be very fair, I believe the majority of the people present appreciated my contribution. I saw many nodding heads, and several people talked to me afterward, affirming my decision to speak up.) 

Instead of having a "Well, it's about time you made it to a meeting" attitude, we need to have a "I'm so glad you are here" attitude, if we want people to return, to chip in, to move the needle beyond the 10% volunteer force. 

I did a little bit of research to see what others are noticing about the drop in volunteerism, and I came across this article published on PTO Today. Turns out, what I'm seeing at a local level is fairly universal: "Researchers agree on six motivators [for volunteering]. People volunteer to make a difference in others’ lives; to support an organization, community, or cause; to learn something new; to develop personally or professionally; to feel better about themselves; and to meet people."

If we truly want to increase the number of volunteers in an organization, we need to drop the "Us v. Them" mentality and take a hard look at why people aren't coming out. Are we demanding too much of people? Are we meeting too often? Are we communicating effectively? Are we encouraging a positive, welcoming environment, or are there too many people on personal power trips? Are we sharing leadership? Does every voice truly matter? Are we leading with our shared values, or are we allowing personal agendas to muddy the waters? 

In order for true change to occur, we need to be able to ask the hard questions of ourselves. Otherwise, we fiercely guard the status quo and continue to get the same results. 

"We" is Invalid: Sacrament or Magic Spell?

A Catholic priest in Arizona resigned this week, after performing "invalid" baptisms for over two decades. I'll admit, when I saw the headline, I immediately wondered what this guy had been doing to make the baptisms "invalid"-- using wine instead of water? Dunking dogs, perhaps? Maybe he wasn't actually a priest and it was like Catch Me If You Can, the Sequel.

Nope. What a letdown. According to Newsweek, Father Andres Arango used the wrong pronoun while performing the sacrament. That is, instead of saying, "I baptize you..." he said, "We baptize you...." This man resigned "with a heavy heart" and the Diocese reported that they didn't have an exact number of invalid baptisms performed by Arango, but the estimate is "in the thousands" and that they were going to do all they could to correct the error. 

Sigh. Where to start? 

OK, first -- Pronouns. I fully agree that pronouns matter. If someone tells me they prefer I use the pronoun "they" when referring to them, I respect and honor that. In fact, as an English major and former English teacher, I land staunchly in the "words are important" camp. Ask anyone who has ever argued with me over the connotations that words carry -- I am a close reader and a close writer. So, "We" versus "I" makes a difference. Hold that thought. We'll come back to it. 

Next -- Baptism. It's a big deal. I was raised Protestant, and I decided to be baptized when I was 12 or so. It was a huge deal. I went to one of those megachurches with removable steps that covered an actual pool that was used for baptisms. I wore a white robe with weights sewn along the bottom hem to avoid embarrassing floating issues. I waded into the water with my pastor and experienced "trine immersion," which is just a fancy way of saying I was dunked 3 times. My memory is blanking on whether I went face forward or backward. (That alone should bring my baptism into question, now that I think about it.) 

Some churches go to actual bodies of water for baptism. Some just sprinkle some water in a symbolic way. Some -- like the Catholic church -- baptize infants by pouring water over their heads. That's how my three kids were baptized, after I converted to Catholicism. 

(By the way, my Protestant baptism "counted" when I converted . . .because Catholics believe "in one baptism," according to the Nicene Creed.) 

My children -- and presumably the thousands baptized by former-Father Andres -- were brought to the church by their parents and godparents for their sacramental bath. Unlike me, they had no say in the matter. Infant baptism is actually a promise made by the parents, the church, the families. In my children's baptism, WE came together to promise to raise our children in the faith, to help them grow in their relationship with God. 

WE.  

There's that word again. In infant baptism, the WE matters more than the I. Yes, there is a priest performing the sacrament, in persona Christe, or in the person of Christ. I don't diminish that at all: the priest takes on the role of Jesus, and that's important and special. But if "we are the body of Christ," then what's "invalid" about a well-intentioned priest saying, "we" instead of "I"? 

I could see the church correcting the priest, making sure that he uses the correct wording moving forward, making some sort of statement, explaining the significance of the priest's role in sacraments. WE call these "teachable moments" in education. 

But, to call these baptisms "invalid" seems extreme to me.  After all, I've been to many, many masses and sacramental celebrations where the priest missed words or skipped whole paragraphs or added his own embellishment to the liturgy. I suppose all of those masses, funerals, weddings, baptisms, and penance services were "invalid," too. 

(I kid you not -- one time, I read the words, "For those who love trampolines and other forms of outdoor recreation, we pray to the Lord" during the Prayer of the Faithful at a funeral mass. The priest always personalized the liturgy so as to help the family remember their loved one fondly in the midst of their grief.) 

This is where I get so frustrated with the Catholic church. Yes, the tradition matters. But the people matter more. Do "thousands" of people need to be stressing over whether their baptisms were valid right now? Imagine the domino effect here. If you need to be baptized to be confirmed, and your baptism was "invalid," is your confirmation now "invalid" as well? What about the rest of their sacraments? Does a pronoun substitution that is more inclusive pose such a threat to the establishment? Did a priest need to resign over this? Come on. 

The hair-splitting legalistic arguments over valid and invalid pronouns aside, here's what really bothers me: Does the church actually think that God is so small and so weak that an unintentional human error would invalidate the Holy Spirit? What kind of God is that? What happened to omnipotence? Are pronouns God's kryptonite? Baptism isn't a magic spell. It's not like that scene when Harry Potter says, "Diagonally" instead of "Diagon Alley" and ends up in the wrong place. 

It's this sort of thing that sends people running from the pews. Think about it -- if a priest who gave his life to the service of God can have his work "invalidated" for not being perfect, where's the hope for the rest of us? What happened to forgiveness? 

I don't get it. Maybe there is much more to this story, and I don't dare to speculate. But if it's really that this man used "we" instead of "I" in the Rite of Baptism, and that made thousands of baptisms "invalid," and he either had to or felt compelled to resign over it, then I just don't know what to think anymore. 

Do You Feel Constantly Interrupted or Distracted? You Aren't Alone, but There is Hope

Two days ago, I listened to an episode of The One You Feed, a podcast that explores various topics on spirituality and philosophy. On the show was author Johann Hari, who was discussing his new book called Stolen Focus: Why You Can't Pay Attention & How to Think Deeply Again. I highly recommend listening to the entire episode, which you can find here.  

Hari shares about his experience living without the Internet for 3 months (yes, friends, apparently this can be done) and the evidence revealing our attention crisis. While you may be thinking Hari is anti-technology, he isn't.  Instead, he raises awareness of how harmful the current business model of social media is to us and our attention. He advocates for a shift in technology use that could heal and aid our attention instead. 

As I listened, I thought about how often my phone makes demands on my attention. Ding! an email. Ding! a Snap. Ding! a Facebook alert. I thought about how often I open my phone with the intent of looking something up and end up scrolling mindlessly and forgetting why I even reached for my phone in the first place. I thought about my students who experience real anxiety when they don't have the pacifier of their phone in their hands. 

Who benefits from interrupting me all the time? The social media apps and Amazon, of course. And while I agree with Hari that we need larger, systemic changes to the current, largely unregulated business model of social media, I know there are some steps that individuals can take to reclaim their attention. I had already taken some smaller steps, like assigning specific ring/text tones to the contacts I don't want to ignore (parents, husband, kids), but I needed to make some adjustments. 

Here's what I started with -- 

1. Each morning at school, I set up my phone to play relaxing music in my office (affectionately dubbed "Denise's Spa Room" by the guidance team). Then, I put my phone in a drawer for the day. I stole this idea from James Clear (if you haven't read Atomic Habits, what are you waiting for?). Simply placing a barrier between me and my phone has led to fewer pick-ups. 

A caveat -- I do wear an Apple Watch, and I set it up so that I receive text notifications. If a text comes in from Gene or the kids, I get my phone out of the drawer to respond and then put it back. 

2. I turned off notifications for Instagram, Facebook, & Snapchat. Yep, OFF. I did this two days ago, and I can already see the difference. I don't think social media is entirely from the devil. (I mean, my doctoral research is on the marketing of public education....) But, those constant notifications, birthed from the algorithms intent on increasing our time wasted online (and our money wasted online) don't deserve the amount of attention I was giving them. 

Instead of those apps telling me to open them, I decide when I want to open them. Not surprisingly, I've discovered I'm not missing much at all. What I do like about social media -- connecting with friends and family -- is still there, when I want to use it. 

The impact so far is that I feel less distracted, less interrupted, and more fully present in whatever moment I am in. I'm not ready to smash the cotton gin or abandon the Internet entirely for three months by any means, but 19th century Transcendental philosopher Henry David Thoreau was right: "We do not ride upon the railroad; it rides upon us." Our railroad is the technology we use, and it's time we stop allowing it to use us. 

Stop Hiding the Hard: Shielding Kids isn't Helping Them Cope

In a recent episode of This is Us, Jack's mother passed away, after 13 strained and awkward years between mother and son. At the end of the show, Jack sets his wife and kids up at the dinner table with a meal his mother used to make and steps away because he was about to cry. When his wife goes to his side, he breaks down and sobs, "I don't have a mother anymore." He pulls himself together before returning to the kids with a brave smile plastered on his face. 

As usual, This is Us captures the truest and hardest parts of family life. Jack is trying to shield his children from seeing their dad cry, from seeing him filled with grief and regret. So many parents react the same way when faced with adversity. We don't want to upset our kids, so we hide what we are going through. It's well-intentioned, but as my own kids age, I realize that hiding the ugly parts of life from our kids is doing much more harm than good. 

When we struggle privately and put on an act to show our kids that everything is great and that we have it all under control because we are Adults and Adults Don't Struggle -- the result is that when our kids experience entirely normal hard times, they think there is something wrong with them . .. because they should be able to handle it all the way their parents do. This is especially true of teenagers who are in dress rehearsal for adulthood. 

Just the other day, I had a conversation with one of our teenagers about how hard life can be at times.  As I tried to assure them that all they were experiencing was entirely normal and human, I realized that my "I've got it all under control" and "Everything is figure-out-able" confidence was only telling part of my story. Like Jack, I'd been walking away from the table to cry. I decided to tell a more accurate story, and shared how stressed and overwhelmed I have felt recently.  And how, as a matter of fact, I don't know any capital-A Adults who aren't feeling the exact same way right now.  

I shared with my teenager a meditation podcast I use, I talked about different coping strategies. Not everything will be solved in one conversation, of course. But it's a start. 

After all, contrary to what our beloved, naive Olaf believes, it doesn't always make more sense when you are older. Honestly, the older I get, the less sense it all makes. 

We need to stop hiding the hard and ugly parts of our lives from our kids. There are ways to model grit and resiliency to children at every stage of their lives. We need to remove the stigma of talking about our emotions and fears and challenges. Our kids don't need half the story; they don't need adult role models who prop up a facade of having it all together at all times. 

They need the truth: Life is the hardest thing we'll ever do, but we can do hard things. And they aren't alone in how they are feeling.  Spoiler Alert: Being vulnerable like this isn't easy for parents. It's actually ridiculously hard. But anytime we step more fully into our authentic selves and tell our true stories, it's worth it. After all, the stakes are too high to continue the charade we've been calling Adulthood. It's time to stop hiding the hard. 

The Gift of Disney's Encanto

Over the holiday break, my family watched Disney's new movie Encanto. The Madrigals are Walt Disney Animation Studio's first Latino family to be featured as main characters in a film. The movie has been largely celebrated as a triumph of representation, with music by Lin Manuel Miranda and a roughly $150M budget. Some of my friends on Facebook have remarked that they didn't think the film was all that great, while others have utterly raved about it. To be sure, we all look for different things when we judge a film, so in reality, all the opinions are right . . . since you know, they are opinions. 

That being said -- and having watched the film only once so far -- here are my humble, initial thoughts on Encanto.

While the music was fun and the animation was beautiful, I -- as per usual -- felt drawn into the storyline. It all begins with a couple running for their lives with triplets in tow. The father sacrifices himself for his family's safety, and the mother is given a magical candle as a consolation prize as she raises the triplets, sort of This Is Us style. The movie tells the story of Abuela, her children, and their children. In the family Madrigal, every child receives a gift at a certain age, a gift that comes complete with its own magical room in their magical house. Pretty amazing, right? 

But as the family members and their gifts are introduced, I started wondering how much of a "gift" they really receive. For example, one character, Dolores, has super-sensitive hearing. Let's be real: wouldn't that get annoying? It's the burden of the empath -- to notice (hear) everyone's suffering .  .  . and to carry the feeling of obligation to help everyone at the same time. 

Speaking of carrying, another character, Luisa, has super-human strength. Disney did the PC thing and made this character a female, in an attempt to make us forget about allll those years of sexism and racism in their old movies. But, just like the super-sensitive hearing, this gift comes with some heavy baggage -- literally. Luisa is constantly called upon to use her strength for various tasks for everyone in the family, and in the village surrounding the magical house. 

In fact, Luisa shares the burden (pun intended) of her immense strength in a song with these lyrics:

Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won't let go, whoa

Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow, whoa

Give it to your sister, your sister's stronger

See if she can hang on a little longer 

Who am I if I can't carry it all?

Phew! As a recovering perfectionist who struggles to ask anyone for help, I felt CALLED OUT by this song. I know I'm not alone, so don't even play. 

Even Isabela, the oldest grandchild ,whose gift is to grow flowers and plants, is more complex than she seems on the surface. Throughout the majority of the film, Isabela is the stereotypical beauty, surrounded by fragrant flowers and a doting suitor. But, even Isabela has her limits and in a soul-bearing moment with her sister Mirabel (we'll get to her in a minute), sings: 

I make perfect, practiced poses

So much hides behind my smile [. . .]

What could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect? 

It just needed to be? And they let me be?

Though we aren't supposed to "talk about Bruno," I have to mention the older brother/uncle of the family who has the gift of seeing into the future -- and actually hides in the walls of the enormous mansion so that he can keep an eye on his loved ones, despite being ostracized for telling his family what they don't want to hear about their potential downfall. 

Now, to Mirabel. She's optimistic, enthusiastic, kind, compassionate, selfless -- and yet, she is the only member of the Madrigal family to NOT receive a gift or a magical room of her own in the house. (I mean, we could argue that all those previous qualities listed are in fact gifts, right?) She is, perhaps not surprisingly, the one who is clear-eyed enough to see the cracks starting to show in this pressure-cooker of a family. 

Of course Mirabel's huge heart and passionate impetuousness lead her to make unorthodox decisions (like not only talking ABOUT Bruno, but also talking TO him! gasp!) which wreak all sorts of havoc. As the dust settles (again, literally...spoiler alert, but the house crumbles to ground), Mirabel and her abuela finally have the heart-to-heart talk the family needed years ago. Abuela admits to her part in the family stress -- her seemingly antiquated traditions come from a place of love and a desire to protect her family. She knows what loss feels like and has wanted nothing but the best for her family ever since. Losing the magic of the candle would mean finally losing her husband after all these years. Mirabel and the younger members of the family are removed from that initial loss, and they've grown up with the magic, so they naturally take it for granted (which is why everyone was shocked when Mirabel didn't get a gift). They want to use their gifts for the greater good, but they need healthy boundaries. 

Sound familiar? 

OK, so maybe you don't live in a magical house and have magical gifts, but the cyclical nature of misunderstood good intentions is well-known to us all. Every generation of parents wants better for their children . . . and then becomes frustrated when those children don't realize how good they have it. And the younger generation striving to make the world a better place don't get why their parents and grandparents resist change. The grandparents and parents hide their personal struggles, as they were taught to do, and end up coming off as distant and unapproachable. The kids wear their hearts on their sleeves, and end up being judged as weak and impressionable. 

Some good old-fashioned authentic talks would go a long way toward understanding, but unfortunately, for a lot of families, healthy discussions and open-door policies are rare. Instead, we tend to sweep the unpleasant business under the rug (or deep into the bowels of the house like Bruno) and put on a facade until we reach a breaking point and the house falls down around us. 

For the Madrigals, it's a happy ending -- it's Disney, and they need to sell tickets, soundtracks, merchandise, and theme park rides, after all. 

For everyone else? Maybe, just maybe, movies like Encanto will help to normalize imperfect families who forgive and heal together. What a gift. 

 

Running into the New Year

You guys, I am such a sucker for fresh starts. I love the new school year, I love the new calendar year -- heck, I love the first day of a new month, that fresh desk calendar looking up at me with expectancy. I could not be more ready for 2022. 

Now, don't get me wrong. I loved the holiday season, despite the challenge of facing it without my mom. We had a relaxing time as a family, we charged our collective batteries, and we spent some time reflecting on the year.  

Perhaps it's a contradiction, but I am not a New Year's resolution kind of person. Honestly, I believe it's because I love new beginnings. I set goals each new month, each new week -- actually, now that I think about it, each new day. I've been reading James Clear's book Atomic Habits, and I'm planning on making huge poster of this quote of his  for my classroom:

When you really stop to think about it, wow. This is totally true. We think that life is accomplished in the big moments, but in reality, the big moments are the culmination of many, many small decisions we make. Clear recommends an emphasis on identity, rather than the significant milestones. For example, instead of saying, "I want to lose 50 pounds," you would say, "I am the kind of person who makes healthy choices." Instead of fixating on the end goal, decide who you want to be. The rest will follow. 

Over the past 2 years, I have struggled with some lower back and hip issues. I'll spare you the details (because let's be honest, they aren't that interesting to anyone else), and simply say these issues have significantly impacted my ability to exercise. I was once a runner. In 2013, I even ran a half marathon. I love long distance running, or at least, I used to. I came to the tough realization that my running days were coming to an end, as I went through physical therapy appointments, chiropractic adjustments, MRIs, and finally, steroid injections. 

Over our holiday break, though, something exciting (to me) happened. I felt pretty good while out for a walk and decided to try .25 mi running intervals. After about a week, those turned into .5 mile running intervals. Yesterday, I ran one mile without stopping. I have not overdone it, because I know what that will mean. I don't try to run every day. But, I am starting to feel like my identity as a runner is coming back to me. 

I don't have a goal in mind at the moment, though it would be fun to be able to run a 5K or two this year. Instead, I have an identity in mind. Will my body have another idea? Not sure. But for now, I'm running into the new year, one step at time. 

How will you cast your vote for the type of person you want to be today? 

Don't RSVP to the Fake Party

I spent far too much of my adult life faking happiness. When I was uncomfortable, unseen, hurt, unfulfilled -- nearly no one knew it. I kept it to myself, so as not to upset anyone's picture of how perfect my life supposedly was. Since breaking free from the gaslighting, emotionally toxic environment I used to live in, I have found my tolerance for fake-ness is quite low. I know in my bones when I am around someone who talks about me behind my back, especially since so much of what is said gets right back to me. I suppose those folks should do a little more vetting before they talk to people about me, but alas! I can honestly say I do not care. 

Here's the thing -- I feel deeply sorry for two-faced people. I can't imagine getting to this point in my life and not feeling confident enough to speak my mind and to be authentically who I am. My heart breaks for those who still put on a false front, pretending to be something or someone they aren't, in order to please (or merely not anger) another person. I had an interaction recently with some people who usually completely ignore me if another person is present. (I apologize for the vagueness, but I don't feel right outing people who may not even know they are in the closet.) In the exchange, these people looked me in the eye, spoke to me, acted normal.  Not all that long ago, in the presence of someone who would disapprove of their interaction with me, these same people avoided eye contact and ignored me. Another Denise would have been upset and even angry about this hypocrisy. This Denise's first reaction is laughter, which admittedly, isn't very kind. So then, I stop laughing at their pettiness and realize how deeply sad I am for them. I am so glad I am not living a life that keeps me from being authentic anymore. I don't have to hide who I am or what my feelings are. I don't have to wear one mask in front of one crowd, and a different one in front of another. 

I do realize why some people act this way, and the reasons are usually quite complicated. Parents can't openly admit their child is not a nice person; spouses can't openly admit that their spouses are abusive. It's nearly impossible to say, "The person I should be closest to is actually acting in a despicable way." I get it. It's so much easier to make people like me into the villains, despite the lack of evidence proving such a claim. 

Here's what I have really gotten better at, and my hope is that you can grow this way, too.  I've already explore WAY more than I usually do, in terms of the vague exchange I've outlined above, simply because I am 200% sure that I am not alone in this experience, and maybe my sharing will help someone else.  

Here's the thing -- you already know that these "fake" people are lost. Don't read into what they do or don't do, because you are already putting in more thought and effort than they do. They have their own work to do, and it's work they can only do themselves. Instead of wasting time, effort, and energy on their work, just let it go. See your true people and what they are going through. See how they could use your help or support. Life is far too short to invest time and energy on people who aren't invested in the same journey.

Trust me when I say that when you learn to pick your own battles, and to choose wisely how you spent your one wild and precious life, you will notice a significant drop in your tolerance for hypocrisy and fakeness. And trust me -- it feels amazing.