The Four Best Gifts

I celebrated my birthday last month.

It feels like one thousand years ago given the current state of the world.

I can be a difficult person when it comes to presents. I am much more interested in eliminating things from my life than adding to it. The accumulation of stuff does not interest me. In fact, if someone would just agree to clear out the the extra furniture from my basement or the toys that my kids don’t touch but claim to adore, that might be the best birthday gift of all.

But if you’re already planning for my 2021 birthday and cleaning out my basement doesn't strike you as a reasonable gift, there are options. In the past, I’ve claimed that there are three categories of gifts above all other that I want more than anything else, but recently, I’ve added a fourth category, and I humbly suggest that you consider them as gift ideas for yourself as well. 

I promise you that they are far superior to any cashmere sweater, shiny trinket, or electronic gadget that you think you may want. 

Time

The best gift of all is the gift of time, and it's not a terribly difficult or expensive gift to give. In the past, my wife has hired people to cut the grass, rake the leaves, and shovel the driveway, thus returning this precious time to me.

Remove an hour of obligation from my life, and I am a happy man.

Other options include things like babysitting my children, digitizing my photo albums, bringing my car to the shop to get that lock on the back door repaired, determining the contents of the boxes in my attic, correcting my spelling tests for a month, or offering to complete any task or chore that I would otherwise be forced to do myself. 

Your list would be different, of course Hopefully it doesn't include a broken lock or mystery boxes in your attic. But I'm sure you can think of things that you would rather not do that a friend or family member is more than capable of accomplishing on your behalf.

I know this sounds crazy to some people. They say things to me like:

"Matt, I'd rather mow my own grass and receive that cashmere sweater." 

"I'd rather correct a mountain of spelling tests and unwrap a brand new iPad on my birthday."

"I'm more than happy to shovel my driveway. Give me that new Fitbit/star finder/water purification device that I have wanted for months."

I'm sorry, but you're wrong. I know it may seem presumptuous to tell you what you want, but trust me. The difference between what you want and what you think you want could not be more different.

I promise you that when you are lying on your death bed, surrounded by all of your material possessions - your stuff - your greatest regret will be the time you could've spent doing things. Seeing people. Experiencing the world. At that moment, the gift of time will mean more to you than anything else. 

It should mean just as much today. Don't wait until it's too late to appreciate it.

Also, it’s very unlikely that you need any more clothing or jewelry or electronics. You could do without the device that clips to your belt or fastens to your handlebars or makes imaginary things explode when you click the right combination of buttons. 

The thing you should crave - more than anything else - is time. 

Knowledge

Coming in a close second to time (and in many ways its first cousin) is the gift of knowledge. Find a way to teach me to do something that I’ve always wanted to do but haven’t been able to learn. 

Either teach me yourself or find someone who can do it for you.

We all go through life wishing that we could do more. Accomplish more. Achieve more. This is a gift that would allow a person to take one small step closer to those dreams. 

For me, it's meant sending my wife to a cooking or art class. Hiring her a ukulele teacher.

For my wife, it's meant buying me an hour with a professional poker player or an afternoon with a golf instructor. 

In these instances, we walk away with nothing material but something far more valuable:

The gift of knowledge. The acquisition of a skill. A slight improvement in an area that means a great deal to us. 

Far more valuable than a pretty scarf or a new doodad. 

In case you're thinking of giving me a birthday gift next year, here is the list of things I want to currently learn:

  • Play the piano

  • Hit my driver longer and more consistently

  • Improve the sound quality and consistency of my podcast recordings

  • Use online educational resources like Prodigy and Freckle more effectively

  • Design my YouTube channel and maximize all of the features available to me

Experience

This one is simple and spoken about often. Want to make me happy? Send me to a Broadway show. Get me tickets to a Yankees game. Bring me to see a comedian who I love.

This year, Elysha gave me an overnight adventure at the Mystic Aquarium. Sadly, that adventure needed to be cancelled because of the pandemic, but when this time passes and life returns to normal, we will reschedule my evening amongst the fishes and family, and I’m quite sure it will be unforgettable.

Certainly better than a stupid watch or a new phone or a new coat.

It doesn’t take much to create a memorable and unique experience for a person. You won’t have anything to show for the experience once it’s done except the memories of the moment, but that is always better than the stuff that clutters our homes.

Studies repeatedly show that money spent on experiences generates far greater happiness than money spent on things. But we know this already.

Right?

An afternoon spent biking with your kids or a weekend with your friends at the beach or an evening spent sitting beside your wife at a concert are always better than the thing inside the box with the bow.

We’re fools if we think otherwise.

Nostalgia

This is new to my list, but it should’ve been included for a long, long time. In some ways, it’s also a close cousin to the gift of time because it amounts to the past presented in a new and interesting way. A return or a resurrection of days gone by. A dip into the waters of your youth.

Last year, my workplace birthday buddy surprised me with a lunch with former colleague who retired a couple years ago. For an hour in the middle of my school day, I was able to take a step back in time when my friend was still working alongside me. We ate, talked, and reminisced about the multitude of moments we spent together.

It was my best workplace lunch ever. One of the best gifts that I’ve ever received.

Elysha has been giving me the gift of nostalgia for years, commissioning artists to paint images of the map of my Boy Scout camp, my childhood home, my grandparent’s home, and my dog. A couple Christmases ago she gave me a Viewmaster Viewer, loaded with images of our family.

These are some of the best gifts that I have ever received. Important places and things reimagined and returned to my life, complete with the memories and joy that they once contained.

This year, my workplace birthday buddy surprised me with paintings of two photos that I had posted online earlier that summer. Small, artistic representations of moments that I remember so well.

An incredible and perfect gift. One that I will treasure for all my days.

Each time I look at these bits from the past, I am transported back to those days, and I’m reminded of all the happiness and goodness that accompanied these places and people.

These gift, particularly now in those upside down world, have been so important to me. Reminders of what once was and what will someday be again.

Speak Up Storytelling: Tom Moore

On episode #91 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Elysha and I talk storytelling!

In our follow up segment, we congratulate listeners on their new baby!

We also launch our Patreon campaign, announce an upcoming virtual storytelling workshop and solo show, and a weekly free storytelling workshop for kids on Facebook Live and YouTube. 

STORYTELLING SHOWS 2020

April 18: Solo show, MOPCO Improv Theater

STORYTELLING WORKSHOPS 2020

April 18: Storytelling workshop (beginner), MOPCO Improv Theater

July 27-31: Storytelling boot camp, CT Historical Society

In our Homework for Life segment, I talk about looking for moments of contrast in our lives and exploiting them for their storytelling potential. 

Next we listen to a story by Tom Moore.

Amongst the many things we discuss include:

  1. The power of self deprecation

  2. Scene setting

  3. Delivering powerful messages via humorous stories

  4. Connecting the beginning and endings of stories

  5. Considering the specificity of your audience when telling a story

Next we answer a question about the "inside baseball" cost-benefit ratio.  

Lastly, we each offer a recommendation. 

RECOMMEDATIONS

Elysha:

Matt:

_______________________________________________

Support Speak Up Storytelling through our Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/speakupstorytelling

Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytellinghttps://amzn.to/2H3YNn3

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Lovehttps://amzn.to/35Mz1xS 

Homework for Life: https://bit.ly/2f9ZPne

Matthew Dicks's website: http://www.matthewdicks.com

Matthew Dicks's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/matthewjohndicks 

Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicksblog

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Let us never forget how we arrived at this moment

One month ago today, against the advice and counsel of scientists, doctors, and public policy experts, Trump said, "When you have 15 people, and the 15 within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero, that’s a pretty good job we’ve done."

As of this morning, the United States has 81,782 confirmed cases of COVID-19. More total cases than any country in the world.

So Trump was off by a little, and not because any expert led him astray. He simply didn’t want to accept reality, nor did he want to warn the American people or prepare us for the coming pandemic.

Avoiding COVID-19 would've been impossible. But things would be far better today had we prepared properly. Stockpiled and distributed personal protective gear for doctors and nurses beginning in January. Increased production of necessary supplies well ahead of the virus. Begun testing immediately, using the approved and effective WHO test rather than waiting for the CDC to produce a test. Instituting social distancing practices more than a month ago.

Had we done these things and many more, America would be a very different place today.

Instead...

Two years ago, Trump fired his pandemic response team and did not replace them.

More than two months ago, Trump ignored repeated and desperate warnings from United States intelligence agencies about the coming pandemic and rejected their advice for immediate action.

Instead, Trump repeatedly referred to the coronavirus as "a hoax." In March, he referred to it as a hoax.

Just sixteen days ago, Trump said, “They’re trying to scare everybody, from meetings, cancel the meetings, close the schools — you know, destroy the country. And that’s ok, as long as we can win the election.”

These are facts that cannot be forgotten when we go to the polls in November.

Above all things, a President is responsible for the safety and security of the America people. Trump has failed at every step.

Just three weeks ago, Trump refused to allow Americans to disembark from a cruise ship because, in his own words, “I like the (COVID-19) numbers being where they are. I don't need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn't our fault. And it wasn't the fault of the people on the ship either, okay? It wasn't their fault either and they're mostly Americans. So, I can live either way with it. I'd rather have them stay on, personally.”

Numbers ahead of lives. That is how Trump has operated every step of the way.

Thankfully, we have plenty of video evidence of Trump’s incompetent, irresponsible, and immoral inaction.

Let us not forget his words and actions in the coming months.

The Office brings me light on dark days

I’m a very fortunate person. I’m married to a clever, funny, beautiful woman. We have two uncharacteristically well-behaved children. I have a remarkable group of friends.

I’ve been teaching elementary school for 21 years in the same great school, and in the same classroom for almost all of that time. I’ve also been fortunate enough to launch a successful writing and performing career.

My dreams have truly come true.

I might be the luckiest person I know Having once been poor, homeless, and jailed, I try to cherish every day.

Still, there are days when life does not cooperate.

My dog passes away. My garage roof leaks. My friend is diagnosed with cancer. My former boss turns out to be a sexual harassing scumbag. Some punk at school bullies my daughter. The Patriots lose a playoff game. My son discovers the Power Rangers. A highly contagious virus spreads around the world, unchecked by an incompetent President who ignores intelligence assessments and calls it a hoax.

On those days, I sometimes turn to the television show The Office, not for entertainment, but for the comfort of friends.

I love The Office because I love the people of The Office. Not the actors who play those characters, and not the characters themselves, because they ceased being characters to me a long time ago. I know on some basic, cognitive level that Dwight is Rainn Wilsom and Pam is Jenna Fischer and Creed is Creed, but in my heart and in that place in my mind where suspension of disbelief reigns supreme, these are real people.

Honest to goodness human beings, and I love every one of them.

When The Office was first airing on television, I lived and died by the machinations of Jim and Pam’s romance, perhaps because at the time, I also had a crush on a woman at work who was also engaged to another man. I connected with Jim as deeply as I’ve ever connected with another human being. Watching him fight for the love of Pam was like watching echoes of the fight I waged for the woman I love. 

Happily, love won. Jim and Pam were married.

I won, too. Like Jim, I got the girl.

On those very rare mornings when I rise and can’t find the spark that so often infuses my heart, I turn to YouTube and watch Jim and Pam get married again, and it makes every day brighter.

I have watched that wedding ceremony no less than 100 times. I have noticed the infinitesimal details in that sequence that can only be seen after more than 100 viewings:

The glasses-wearing man sitting in on the groom’s side of the pews, enjoying the proceedings more than anyone in the church.

Who is that man? I love that man.   

The cars passing by the church during the musical sequence, leading me to wonder if the producers purposefully placed this traffic or if honest-to-goodness folks were driving past the church while you filmed?

The Canadian flag flying on the Maid of the Mist, leading me to wonder if Jim and Pam were married in Canada or the US, and if Canada, did they obtain a Canadian marriage license?

Probably not.

If it’s an especially bad day, I might instead turn to the cold open lip dub or a YouTube clip of Jim’s greatest pranks or the scene at the end of the series that simultaneously broke my heart and made it soar.  

Spending a little time with these people so often turns my day around.

Since watching the show as it aired live, I’ve watched it from beginning to end many more times. Last year I discovered the deleted scenes on YouTube and watched them in order, relishing in new, partial seasons of The Office.

More time with my friends.

Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey now have the Office Ladies podcast, and as they discuss each episode, I’m re-watching it again, following along as they do.

I’ll suspect always be watching The Office in one way or another. When my kids are old enough, I’ll watch it with them, too. Constantly moving toward that final episode, and those final moments, when the people I love say the things I love most.

Creed, speaking to the young man in me who was once homeless and wondering if he’d ever have another roof over his head:

“No matter how you get there or where you end up, human beings have this miraculous gift to make that place home.”

I hope that Creed knows much truth is contained in those simple words.

Jim, speaking to the storyteller and relentless chronicler of life that I have become:

“Imagine going back and watching a tape of your life. You could see yourself change and make mistakes…and grow up. You could watch yourself fall in love, watch yourself become a husband, become a father. You guys gave that to me. And that’s…an amazing gift.”

I try to give myself this gift every single day.

Then there is Andy, speaking to my heart, making me think about my mom, who passed away far too young, and my daughter, now eleven, whose diapers I once changed at the end of the table from where I write these words. Reminding me of the people with whom I once shared a workplace – Jeff, Tom, Plato, Rob, Amy, Andy, Donna, Elysha, and so many more – all moving onto bigger, brighter things, leaving me behind:

“I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”

My Office friends make me cry every time I watch this final episode. I miss my friends. I miss knowing what is happening in their lives today.

The Office makes me laugh every day, but laughter is cheap. It’s fleeting and not so hard. Tenuous at best. These funny, beautiful, crazy, wonderful people live in my heart and mind. The show is brilliant because it is populated by real people living real lives and allowing me to step into their lives from time to time.  

Honestly, I don’t even need to watch The Office anymore to find the joy that they offer. Just thinking about Jim or Pam or Dwight is enough to make me smile.

Proud to be a teacher everyday, but in this time, especially

I am so impressed with my colleagues today.

The teachers, principals, and superintendents who have worked at a record pace to develop and deliver curriculum and instruction to children across America.

For every second of our careers, we have delivered curriculum and instruction to children in a classroom, using skills and pedagogy honed through years of schooling, training, and practice. Then, in just three days in my children’s school district and just five days in my own school district, curriculum was developed and written, online resources were identified and vetted, and instructional plans were integrated across 13 grade levels.

Instructional plans for typical students and specialized plans for each and every one of our students who require unique accommodations. Librarians, school psychologists, social workers, reading specialist, and more have join the fight, ensuring that children’s needs are met despite the distance between us.

Teachers have also needed to learn to use tools never seen before. We are conducting classes through Google Meets. Meeting with students individually via Zoom, Skype, FaceTime, and others platforms. Yesterday, during a series of eleven meetings with students and their families, I was switching between five different platforms and providing IT assistance to families on those platforms.

I’ve been using digital conferencing for years in my consulting and coaching businesses, but for many teachers, all this is new.

One teacher asked me, “What exactly is Skype?”

Teachers are also learning the best ways to record lessons, including software, editing, and even lighting.

Most important, teachers have taken on the gargantuan role of balancing content with care. We want our students to continue learning in this highly imperfect model, but we also want to reduce the stress and anxiety in our students. Ensure that they feel safe and happy in every way possible.

If they need to learn to divide fractions next year instead of this year, that is fine. But the trauma that kids could potentially be suffering and could be contributed to through the pressure and stress of school work could last a lifetime. This is in the forefront of every educator’s mind. When we call our families, our first thoughts are for the wellbeing of our students. We ask them questions to ascertain their mental health. We check to see if they are exercising. Eating well. Sleeping well. Remaining connected to friends. Being kind and patient with parents and siblings.

All of this and so much more.

Remember that scene from Apollo 13 when the engineers are asked to make a square peg fit into a round hole?

An engineer tosses a box of random junk on a table and says,

“Okay, people. Listen up. The people upstairs handed us this one and we gotta come through. We gotta find a way to make this... fit into the hole for this... using nothing but that.”

That is what educators are doing today. In almost no time.

It requires skill, flexibility, and endless hours. Elysha and I worked well past 11:00 PM on the first two days of this teaching, finding time to eat, check in on our kids, and go for a walk, but otherwise we were working. Reviewing and prepping and recording and planning. Talking to kids and families. Assisting other teachers.

Every teacher who I know is working tirelessly. Working at home sounds lovely until you realize that is simply means working constantly.

The couch is far less appealing as you approach hour 14 of your work day.

Don’t get me wrong. As teachers, we know how fortunate we are to be able to work. I know many people who cannot work from home and are suffering,

As teachers, we also feel honored to be able to contribute in this way to the lives of children and their families. Meeting children’s needs and providing a good education is what we want to do. Finding a way to do it while socially distant from our students has been a blessing to us all.

We are the lucky ones.

Still, I am so damn proud of my colleagues today. The work they have done to launch this new way of learning is astounding.

If you have a moment to offer words of encouragement to a teacher today, please do.

In the midst of all of this work, they are also dealing with all of the fear and anxiety that the rest of America is facing. We are trying to keep our own children safe, happy, and engaged. Trying to ensure that there is food and toilet paper in our homes. Worrying about aging parents and immunocompromised loved ones. Supporting friends and family who have lost their jobs. Watching the failures of the federal government to provide basic necessities like masks, gloves, and gowns to our medical personnel. Trying to contain the rage we feel over the idea that less than a month ago, the President was referring to the coronavirus as “a hoax.” Wondering about the future of our country.

We are lucky, to be sure. Certainly not heroes. We are not the doctors and nurses who are waging a war against this virus everyday at great personal risk. We are not the grocery store workers, truckers, pharmacists, first responders, plumbers, electricians, and others who go to work everyday, uncertain about their own safety but necessary for our country to continue to function.

These folks deserve gratitude beyond measure.

But I can’t tell you how proud I am of my colleagues today for all that they have done to help keep kids safe, happy, and engaged.

I salute them too. The days are long. The workload is immense. The concern we have for each of our students is never ending.

But this is our job, and my colleagues have proven themselves more than capable of taking on this challenge.

I'm so very proud to be working alongside them, albeit distantly, today.

You exist because of 15 cents

Charlie was counting coins yesterday as part of a his math lesson. I was helping out a little.

Nickels and quarters can look alike to a little boy.

As he worked through the various combinations, he landed upon 15 cents. “Look, Dad. Two ways to make 15 cents.”

He was right. Two ways to make 15 cents unless you’re using pennies, but we should’ve eliminated pennies a long time ago. They cost more than a penny to manufacture and are becoming more and more obsolete by the day.

Bur what I really I wanted to tell Charlie is this:

You only exist because of 15 cents.

Back in 1987, I was ready to find my first real job. There were plenty of opportunities. Stores, restaurants, and the like were all hiring in my town and neighboring towns, but my friend, Danny Pollock, had heard that the McDonald’s restaurant in the town of Milford was paying 15 cents over minimum wage.

Milford was about 10 miles north of my hometown of Blackstone, MA. About 20 minutes away. A foolish decision in retrospect., Not only did that mean a 20 minute commute to work after school and in the summer, but that 15 cents per hour would quickly be spent in the gas required to get there.

It was also during one of those Milford to Blackstone commutes that I would nearly die in a head-on collision.

Lots of reasons not to go north for work.

But north we went, and Danny and I were hired on the spot after an interview in the side lobby with a store manager named Diane Frotten. It turned out that McDonald’s was paying $4.65, a full dollar over minimum wage, as most businesses were doing at the time.

The economy was good, and there were plenty of jobs to be had. Businesses had to pay more or risk being understaffed.

Danny quit after a short time and went to work washing dishes across the street at a full service restaurant, but I remained. I quickly rose to manager during my junior year in high school and worked at McDonald’s for more than a decade, leaving McDonald’s only when I arrested, jailed, homeless, and working for a short time in a bank.

Brief interruptions in what amounted to a significant portion of my life.

Eight McDonald’s restaurants in all spanning three states.

Most important, I met Bengi at that first McDonald’s.

I met Bengi on a Saturday morning. We bonded over our ability to sing the Disney’s Adventures of the Gummi Bears animated series theme song word-for-word (which I can still do today - both verses).

Bengi would become my best friend. When I was kicked out of my home following high school, Bengi and I lived together in a townhouse in Attleboro, MA. Bengi attended Bryant University. I worked like a dog.

We were both very poor. Happy but poor.

When Bengi graduated, he moved to Connecticut. I was delayed in joining him by 18 months thanks to my arrest, jail, homelessness, and trial for a crime I did not commit. But once I was found not guilty, Bengi introduced me to a girl in Connecticut, and shortly thereafter, I moved here permanently.

Had I not driven north in search of 15 extra cents per hour, I would’ve never met Bengi.

Had I not met Bengi, I never would’ve moved to Connecticut. Never would’ve attended school here. Never would’ve been hired to work at Wolcott School in West Hartford, CT, where I have been for 22 years.

Had I not been hired to work at Wolcott, I never would’ve met Elysha in the fall of 2002. Never would’ve fallen in love with her. Never would’ve married her.

Clara and Charlie exist because of the promise of 15 cents.

It’s incredible how so much of our lives, and the lives of others, hinge on such infinitesimal moments in our lives.

It’s a little frightening, too. With a tiny nudge in one direction or another, my life would be entirely different today. My children would not exist.

It’s hard to fathom how enormous a role 15 cents has made in my life.

Thank goodness it did.

I’m not William Shakespeare or Issac Newton, but I still managed to discover something important

Over the last week, no fewer than two dozen friends, readers, and followers have sent me messages letting me know that when Shakespeare was quarantined because of the plague, he wrote King Lear and possibly Macbeth and Antony and Cleopatra.

A handful of friends and readers have also told me that when Issac Newton was forced into quarantine because of the plague, he developed his theory of colors, invented differential and integral calculus, and conceived of the idea of universal gravitation.

Seriously, people? I make an ambitious list of goals, and you throw Shakespeare and Newton at me?

I don’t need that kind of pressure.

All of this was information was provided to me in response to a list of goals I had posted last Monday - seven days ago that now feel like seven moths ago now - back when we were theoretically going to be home for just two weeks.

Never did I think that this social distancing would last just two weeks, but I decided to plan for two weeks, hoping that I would be wrong.

Sadly I was not. Not only will this period of social distancing and quarantine last far longer, but our two week “vacation” almost instantly transformed into at-home learning, so I spent most of the week preparing to teach my students.

My own children started at-home learning on Thursday. We begin today.

I must say:

My school district has done a remarkable job in an infinitesimal amount of time preparing their teachers and curriculum for school this week. I worked more hours last week from home than I have ever worked as a teacher in school.

As a result, my list of goals has changed significantly. The time that I intended to dedicate to accomplishing a long list of goals was quickly given over to planning for my week of at-home school:

Online meetings. Experimenting with various video platforms. Reviewing, expanding, and differentiating curriculum. Contacting families. Establishing schedules. Partnering with colleagues.

One million text messages.

However, even through all of this, I managed to get some of my goals accomplished in my first week.

My plan to write an entire book in just two weeks was instantly doomed. Way too much time has been given over to teaching, but I managed to write three chapters and intend in finishing the book by the time this pandemic has come under control.

We’ve watched six of the Marvel movies so far (including The Avengers, which has an iconic moment that I will be writing about at some point in the future), and we’re enjoying them very much. We’re watching the movies in the proper order except for The Hulk, which is not yet available on the Disney streaming service.

I heard it wasn’t great.

Iron Man 3 wasn’t great either, but the rest were outstanding.

We will most definitely finish my goal of watching all of the movies by the time this pandemic has ended.

I also managed to clean out the garage. The removal of some items is still required, but it looks like a functioning garage again. The job should be completed this week.

We’ve played lots of board games, but we have yet to play every board game we own. Still, it won’t be hard to go through all of them in the time we will be spending at home.

I’ve read or listened to four books so far, already doubling my goal of two. Neil Patrick Harris’s memoir, written in the second person as a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book, was especially entertaining.

We’ve made good progress in washing and folding all of the laundry in the house. The pile of bags of old clothing that were recovered from recent closet cleanings is diminishing fast.

I have yet to do better than a 6 minute plank. A 10 minute plank seems impossible, but I have a lot of time to work on it.

I’ve written 8 of the 25 letters that I originally planned to write.

I started offering free storytelling workshops for kids on Facebook Live and saving those recordings on my YouTube channel, doubling my goal of adding two new videos on my channel.

I haven’t ridden my bike with my kids yet, but unable to workout at the gym, I’ve ridden my own bike about 10-15 miles a day. It’s been a glorious rediscovering of something I loved as a kid.

That’s it. There’s still a lot that hasn’t been accomplished yet, including the following:

  1. Begin writing a musical with my partner, Kaia.

  2. Record two Speak Up Storytelling podcasts, bonus content for our Patreon account, plus the final episode of my Twenty-one Truths About Love podcast.

  3. Explore the possible avenues for producing my storytelling instruction for an online platform.

  4. Go through the children’s toy bins at night while they are asleep and throw away or donate old toys that they no longer play with or even know exist. Don’t tell them.

  5. If it’s even close to warm enough, play a round of golf.

All of this is fine, of course. The world is shifting rapidly, so expectations must change as we learn to adjust to this new, temporary way of working and living.

But the overall goal remains the same:

Use this time wisely. Even though I’m teaching again, and it probably means working many more hours now than I normally would, there is still a lot of time to reclaim during these pandemic days:

The time when I would’ve been performing and speaking and consulting and schlepping the kids and more.

I want to be sure that I use the time well. And while I still plan on being productive in the traditional sense of that word, tackling my life and my yearly goals, I’ve discovered something even more important this week:

I want this to be a time that I spend with family. I want to look back at this strange time in our lives and think about all time I spent with Elysha and the kids. All the walking and playing and scootering and wrestling that we did. The hikes we took and the evenings spent snuggled on the couch.

A silver lining in a world filled with suffering.

Family. My most important goal. It only took a week spent solely with my family to realize that this is the best possible goal for me.

Find a way to say thank you

Let us remember that in this time of pandemic, when our leaders in Washington failing to take the actions necessary to keep us safe, it’s the grocery store employees, pharmacists, gas station attendants, mail carriers, first responders, delivery drivers, and anyone working in a hospital or medical staff are honest-to-goodness heroes right now.

Anyone who continues to leave their home to do the work that must be done.

Let us honor them anyway we can.

For me, this has meant writing letters to the employees of the two grocery stories and the pharmacy where I have shopped over the past two days, thanking the employees for continuing to stock shelves, unload trucks, and assist customers in these uncertain times.

It has meant writing a letter to the librarians who are still working at our public library, creating a system by which they will collect the books that patrons request so that you can drive by and pick them up without ever exiting your car.

It has meant thanking every grocery store employee personally and from a very safe distance while shopping.

Yesterday, I was submitting medical bills to my insurance company’s claims department, but before sealing the envelope with the receipts and forms, I wrote short notes to each of the people who would be processing my claim, thanking them for the work they do and hoping they are safe and well.

If you can find a way to thank a nurse or a police officer or a delivery driver for their service, please do.

If you can find a way of letting a gas station attendant, a doctor, or the custodian who is keeping the hospital clean that they are heroes, please do.

We certainly have the time. And don’t wait to find it. Make it. These folks deserve all the gratitude that we can muster.

If you need some inspiration, this has been very helpful to me in recent days. It’s admittedly made my cry at times, but it also steels me with resolve and reminds me that as uncertain and frightening as the world is today, better days will come.

It’s almost as if Springsteen wrote this song for this exact moment in history.

The paradox of preparation

I’d like to suggest that we all be as gentle as possible with each other in this unprecedented time.

I’m thinking specifically about the paradox of preparation:

Outstanding preparation and precaution often yield outstanding outcomes, but these outstanding outcomes often cause the preparation to seem unnecessary, silly, or an overreaction.

Japanese officials were characterized in this way when they closed all schools nationwide on February 27 with only a few confirmed cases of COVID-19 in their country. As world leaders like Trump insisted that coronavirus was “under control” and “a hoax,” the Japanese took this virus seriously.

Eleven days ago, with Japanese schools closed and coronavirus silently spreading across our country and scientists warning of a coming pandemic, Trump said, “They’re trying to scare everybody, from meetings, cancel the meetings, close the schools — you know, destroy the country. And that’s ok, as long as we can win the election.”

Two days after Japan closed its schools, Trump said, “When you have 15 people, and the 15 within a couple of days it’s going to be close to zero, I think we’ve done a pretty good job.”

Less than three weeks ago, Trump was proclaiming America nearly virus-free.

Meanwhile, Japanese school children were safe at home.

Today the Japanese are looking like geniuses.

Outstanding outcomes can also make the preparation before the outcome seem unnecessary. If social distancing, social isolation, and quarantine flatten the curve immensely and bring a screeching halt to the spread of this virus, some will say that these measures were never needed in the first place.

The behaviors that may ultimately save us will be seen in retrospect as an overreaction because they were so damn effective.

With all of this in mind, let us be exceptionally kind to each other. If you see someone in the grocery store wearing gloves and spraying sanitizer on every box that they touch (something I saw yesterday), don’t judge. Her preparation and extreme caution might just save her life.

Likewise, if someone has stockpiled three months of Campbell's soup in their house, even though the chances of real food shortages are very unlikely, be gentle. That person might just need those cans of food for peace of mind.

If you have children at home, you can suddenly find yourself fearing the strangest things. Unreasonable possibilities can suddenly feel like reality, so if cans of soup can quell those fears, that is what we do.

I was talking to my neighbor yesterday (at a distance), and he, like us, has decided to isolated himself from the world as much as possible.

Grocery store and gas only.

He visits his elderly mother every day but refuses to enter her home. He sits in the middle of her front lawn, and she sits on the porch. It’s the only way he has agreed to visit her. She thinks this is ridiculous and unnecessary, and if she stays healthy and survives this pandemic in the peak of health, she may tease her son about his caution for years, but his caution might have saved her life.

That is the paradox of preparation. Preparation leads to good outcomes, but those good outcomes often make the preparation seem silly in retrospect.

So if your friend or loved one or neighbor has adopted exceptional precautions or is prepared beyond what seems to be reasonable, be gentle. If you’re about to tease or criticize or scoff, don’t.

An individual’s struggles, both internal and external, are unknowable. There is no telling what that person needs to be or feel safe. And there’s no telling how their preparation - as silly as it might seem now - might just save their life and the lives of the people who they could potentially infect.

Let’s be gentle with each other in these trying days.

Now I'm worried about the 7-11 guy?

Two weeks ago, before our country came to a standstill and life changed so profoundly for so many of us, I was stepping toward the counter at a 7-11 with a Diet Coke in my hand. A man was already standing at the counter, but off to the side.

Not exactly in line.

You know the type. The folks who see connivence stores as places to solicit conversation, usually with the clerk but occasionally with the customers. They purchase a coffee or a bottle of water but then proceed to drink it inside the store, hanging around the counter in hopes of striking up a little banter.

I encountered them when I managed McDonald’s restaurants, too, only McDonald’s has the gift of tables and chairs, so although they would linger at the counter longer than necessary, trying to talk, they would eventually move into the dining room and attempt to strike up conversations with customers, too.

Lingerers, we would call them. Men and women who needed someone to talk to and chose clerks and customers as potential conversational partners.

I don’t typically mind these folks very much. I suspect that if I were a clerk in a convenience store, I would find them maddening, but I always thought of them as interesting souls. I actually wrote about them in one of my novels, commenting on the apparent tragedy of feeling so alone that you you must find conversation with people who are required to stand in one place for long periods of time.

A truly trapped audience.

But sometimes these folks can be frustrating, unnerving, or even frightening, depending on how they attempt to engage you. Most of the time they strike me as sweet and a little sad, but sometimes they instantly raise my defenses.

So as I approach the counter at 7-11, Diet Coke in hand, I am aware that the man standing adjacent to the cash register but not in front of the cash register is probably a lingerer.

Someone looking for conversation.

The clerk scans my soda. I push my debit card into the slot, and as I punch in my code, the lingerer says, “You know what’s so good about having money?” He speaks loudly and aggressively and takes one step in my direction while doing so, closing the distance between us to a few feet. He’s a large man, taller and heavier than me. I’m not intimidated, I know this man means no harm. At best he is going to try to shame me for having money, but more likely, he’s got some observation on the nature of a market-based economy that he needs to share or a bit of amusement to test out on me.

But he’s gone about this all wrong, nearly shouting and closing the gap between us. He would intimidate some people, and rightfully so, They might avoid this 7-11 in the future in fear of dealing with this man again.

All of this enters my mind, so I turn, and nearly unplanned and almost surprising to myself, I say, “Stop. This is weird.”

He starts to say something in defense, but I cut him off.

“No,” I say “It’s uncomfortable and aggressive, and it doesn’t make people feel safe. If you want to talk or have something important to say, start with ‘How’s it going?’ or ‘Hey, I dig Diet Coke, too.’ But not this, because this makes people feel uncomfortable.”

The keypad sings its little song as I speak, indicating that my card has been approved, and I am relieved. I’m not sure what I would’ve said next. I grab my card and soda and say, “Work on it,” before turning and leaving.

Quickly.

The lingerer doesn’t say a word. I’m sure that when I’m gone, he has a lot of things to say about me. None of them were very nice, I’m sure. Rightfully so. I could’ve simply indulged the man. Allowed him his moment of banter with another customer, but my years of dealing with lingerers while working behind the counter, combined with the sincere empathy I feel for these folks and my lifelong role as a teacher, all combined in that moment and forced me to act.

I wasn’t thrilled about my response, but I wasn’t disappointed, either. In retrospect, hearing him out first, then politely offering some advice might have been the kinder, gentler route.

But I also believe that a direct approach can be very helpful, too. Clear and jarring.

I find myself thinking about that man, who I encountered just three weeks ago. As we socially distance and begin to physically isolate ourselves to a great degree, I wonder where this man so in need for a conversational partner might be. If he’s been able to limit his contact between himself and others.

If he’s safe and well.

I hope so.

I’ve never been much of a fan of the lingerers of this world, but as we hunker down for the long haul, I look forward to the day when a stranger might share his thoughts on the nature of money, and I will only be mildly annoyed again.

Speak Up Storytelling: Ellen Feldman Ornato

On episode #90 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Matthew and Elysha Dicks talk storytelling!

In our follow up segment, we discuss the importance of storytelling and self-care in the time of this pandemic. We also read some listeners' emails and discuss events and workshops moving forward. 

STORYTELLING SHOWS 2020

April 18: Storytelling workshop (beginner), MOPCO Improv Theater, Schenectady, NY (remote)

STORYTELLING WORKSHOPS 2020

April 18: Storytelling workshop (beginner), MOPCO Improv Theater, Schenectady, NY (remote)
July 27-31:
 Storytelling boot camp, CT Historical Society

In our Homework for Life segment, I talk about taking a small moment with my son and building it into a much larger, more personally significant and vulnerable story. 

Next we listen to a story by Ellen Feldman Ornato.

Amongst the many things we discuss include:

  1. Defining the landscape of the story

  2. Universal appeal in unique moments

  3. Scene setting through repetition

  4. Restructuring stories to increase stakes

  5. Pacing

Next we answer a question about crafting stories.  

Lastly, we each offer a recommendation. 

RECOMMEDATIONS

Elysha:

Matt:

LINKS

Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytellinghttps://amzn.to/2H3YNn3

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Lovehttps://amzn.to/35Mz1xS 

Homework for Life: https://bit.ly/2f9ZPne

Matthew Dicks's website: http://www.matthewdicks.com

Matthew Dicks's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/matthewjohndicks 

Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicksblog

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's weekly newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicks-subscribe

Subscribe to the Speak Up newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-speak-up

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-grin-and-bare-it

What to do with your kids during the pandemic: My advice

I was the guest on a radio show in DC yesterday with Bram Weinstein, talking about Tom Brady’s terrible, tragic, no-good, very bad exit from the New England Patriots (a topic for another day) and the challenges of distance learning during the pandemic.

I know that many parents have been struggling to teach their kids reading, writing, and math in these unusual days, but on the radio show, I offered a bit of advice on teaching your kids, and it was this:

Forget the curriculum. Just let your child find something to study. An area of interest. Something they genuinely enjoy.

Our son, Charlie, for example, spent an hour on Monday collecting and sorting rocks in the backyard. Learned to use a multiplication table. Memorized a few multiplication facts. Read several books on the Titanic. Played Exploding Kittens and Sequence with us. Listened to me read a Hardy Boys book to him. Watched Iron Man with us.

This morning we played Garbage together. Then he read a book on magic and demonstrated some of the magic tricks for us. He built a volcano on Minecraft, reading about how volcanos work so that he could make it erupt. He and Elysha played Labrinth together, and later, they worked on a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle. He played a storytelling improv game with me. We listened to Hamilton.

We’re elementary school teachers who could easily begun teaching our kids the curriculum, and soon, their school district will be doing just that. but when it comes to working with your kids, my advice is simple:

Keep their minds active. Allow them to pursue their interests. Limit their screen time. Don’t judge them for their interests. What they find fascinating - like backyard rocks - might seem silly to us, but collecting, sorting, comparing, contrasting, and treasuring are all great, great things.

These are strange, frightening days for our kids. The world is not normal. There is no need to push curriculum, onto your children right now. As schools begin to launch distance learning initiatives, allow them to offer your children instruction on reading, writing, and math, and perhaps guide you a bit as you try to support them.

But for now, allow their minds to wander. Let them build and explore. Draw and color. Climb and collect. Keep them active. Limit screen time.

There are many ways to learn, and many, many things to learn.

A lifetime to learn.

This is a time to keep kids happy and safe. Keep their minds working, but remember that they are probably nervous and frightened, as we all are.

No need to add any pressure beyond what they are already feeling.

In an effort to help parents, I’m doing storytelling workshops on Facebook Live. You can watch yesterday’s workshop on my YouTube channel here and here.

You can listen to my segment on the radio here:

In Hour 2 bram continues on free agency and specifically the Redskins. Writer, teacher and Boston sports aficionado Matt Dicks joins Bram. Wrestlemania will go on without fans.

My mother's death, and the unforgettable gift that two students offered to me.

Today is my mother’s birthday.

She would’ve been 70 years-old had she not passed away back in 2007.

When my mother died, she was just 57-years old. Far too young. Every year since then has felt like another tragedy for me.

She would’ve been 58 this year.
63 this year.
68 this year.

Every year still felt far too young.

Even 70 feels far too young to be gone. She never met either of my children or witnessed any of my books being published or watched me perform onstage.

She barely got to know Elysha. I’ve always felt bad for Elysha for never enjoying the blessings of a mother-in-law.

They say that dying is hardest on the living. Tell that to a mother who is about to miss the chance to meet her grandchildren or see her son’s dreams come true or spend real time with her beautiful, brilliant daughter-in-law.

I’ve wondered for years how old my mother would’ve needed to be before I’ll stop thinking of her absence as such a tragedy.

That day has not come.

The craziest thing about my mother’s death is that she’s been gone for 13 years, but there are still days (including last week) when I see something in a store that I know she would’ve liked and think, “I should get that for Mom’s birthday.”

That fraction of a second between thinking of your mother as a living person and remembering that she’s dead is a terrible bit of time.

It’s always hard when a parent passes away. My father-in-law’s mother recently passed away at the age of 98, but it was still hard for him.

There’s nothing like losing a parent.

It’s becomes even harder when you lose your mother but almost all of your friends’ parents are still alive and well. There’s that constant reminder of your loss, of course, but then there are the inadvertent questions and comments, like this past December, when a friend was complaining about how difficult her mother can be around the holidays and then asked, “What’s your mom like around the holidays?”

She felt awful, of course, especially because she knew me when my mom died, but that was 13 years ago.

It’s not something you’re expected to remember.

That might be the hardest part of losing a parent. Every year, without fail, my mother’s birthday and the anniversary of her death arrive on the calendar, and these are always sad days for me, but my sorrow is often solitary with the exception of Elysha. While my friends and family care deeply about me, they can’t be expected to keep track of these dates.

Am I supposed to remind them? That would be strange, too.

So you grieve quietly and alone. You might be walking around the workplace with a heavy heart, but you can’t exactly stop your colleagues in the hallway and explain.

It’s as if empathy has an expiration date when it comes to the death of your mother, not because your friends and family don’t care, but because they simply don’t know. And even if they knew, it was more than a decade ago. What are they really expected to say?

About five years ago, I was telling my students about the death of my mother. It was the first time that batch of kids was learning about her passing. It’s a subject that comes up every year with my students. Someone asks a question about my mother, or someone loses a grandparent or pet, and we end up discussing the grieving process. Inevitably, my mother’s death arises.

The kids are always kind, but five years ago, something different happened.

In answer to a question about my mom, I took a deep breath and said, “My mother died about ten years ago.”

I’ll never forget what happened next.

Instantaneously and spontaneously, without any preplanned coordination or communication, two of my students - two of my most emotionally fragile students - rose from their seats on opposite sides of the classroom, walked across the room, and hugged me.

It was the purest expression of empathy over my mother’s death that I had experienced in a long time. It was as if I she had died on that day, and the kids were responding to her passing for the first time.

It was as if that expiration date on empathy has been torn away.

I think about those two kids - a boy and a girl - on days like today. I remember their embrace and the tears that spilled from their eyes and mine.

Children are amazing. On this day when I am away from my students because of the coronavirus, I find myself missing them more than ever.

If you're not doing Homework for Life, today is the most important day to start.

If you follow me in any way, you probably know about Homework for Life.

Maybe you’re even doing it already.

If so, congratulations. You are among the thousands of people around the world who are doing Homework for Life and changing their lives in the process.

Just yesterday, I heard from folks in Oregon, Toronto, and Serbia. All are doing Homework for Life, and all were writing to thank me for offering it to them.

Assigning it to them.

May I humbly suggest that in this time of fear and isolation, Homework for Life is more valuable than ever.

If you don’t know what Homework for Life is, you can watch my TEDx Talk below to learn more, but in brief:

Every day, at the end of the day, I ask myself a simple question:

What is my most storyworthy moment from my day?

In order words, what made this day different than every other day? If I had to tell someone a story from something that happened today, even if that moment wouldn’t make much of a story at all, what moment would I choose?

Then I write that down. Not the whole story, because that would be too much to ask or expect, Write down just enough to capture the moment.

I use an Excel spreadsheet with just two columns:

Column A contains the date, and column B is stretched across the screen. In this space, I record the moment or moments from the day that were most storyworthy.

There are enormous benefits to this practice, even if you never plan on telling a story.

Perhaps the biggest benefit of all is that you’ll start to see the meaningful moments from your day that you’ve failed to recognize before. Over time, you’ll develop of lens for story and realize that your day is filled with moments worth remembering and sharing. Moments that you were either fortunate enough to notice but then forgot or (more likely) moments that you never noticed in the first place.

Suddenly your days will become better. Brighter. More filled with real meaning. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. And it’s not just me. Thousands of people have written to me over the years, telling me that the same has happened to them.

But there’s more:

Time will also slow down for you. As you mark your days with meaning, you won’t toss away days as meaningless and arbitrary bits of time. Moments that you might’ve been noticed but then forgotten will be captured forever, creating a record of your life that will quickly become one of your most treasured things. You’ll even find yourself cracking open, rediscovering memories from the past that you can’t believe you forgot.

Homework for Life has changed the way I see my life. Every day contains multitudes.

But here’s the reason I think you should be doing it now more than ever before:

In the midst of this pandemic and the social distancing and isolation that so many of us are practicing, days may start to blend together and feel terribly similar. Without the variances of everyday life and work and social interaction to occupy our time, we may start to view these coming days as boring, wasted, and insignificant.

We may lose these days to indifference.

But if we stay attuned to our day and note those special moments, we are less likely to lose days. Less likely to to see this time as wasted and meaningless. More likely to distinguish each of these days as different and beautiful and blessed.

Homework for Life can do this for you.

Yesterday, for example, in the midst of near isolation, I added these moments to my Homework for Life:

  • Charlie knew that Tony Stark’s business partner and surrogate father was the bad guy in Iron Man almost instantly. “It’s obvious. I heard him laugh.” He’s right. The guy laughs like a bad guy.

  • I found Tobi in the entranceway inside a Stop & Shop bag, sunning himself. Lucky cat. No awareness of coronavirus and more time with the family. This is a holiday for him.

  • Charlie can't find his Captain America shield (I think I threw it out), so Elysha makes him a new one out of a cereal box that he colors red, white, and blue, and HE COULDN'T BE HAPPIER. SO EXCITED AND THRILLED.

  • I sent Katie a remastered version of her story about her late husband on their anniversary. What a happy coincidence. So the universe is still working. Just clunking a bit with coronavirus.

  • I finished my letter to dad, and for half a second, thought, “I should write to Mom, too.” Mom passed away in 2007. When will my brain stop doing that to me?

  • Nana timed her passing well. If you’re 98 years-old and ill, best to say goodbye before the pandemic strikes.

  • I don’t like when people talk about beating cancer. “She kicked cancer’s ass” or “She refused to let cancer take her down.” This implies that anyone who succumbs to cancer lost the fight, when in reality, cancer survival often comes down to the type of cancer, early detection, and the ability to access the best healthcare possible.

  • We need a better name for the “ring toe” because only weirdo hippies wear rings on their toes.

I was supposed to be in Tucson yesterday, speaking on three different panels at a literary festival. Signing books at a local bookshop. Enjoying dinner with good friends who I haven’t seen in years.

It was a far different day than what was originally expected, yet it was also a day filled with meaningful moments, and not because my life is more interesting than yours or because I am somehow special.

I just notice things that most people don’t because I’ve been doing Homework for Life for years.

I see a cat in a grocery bag and capture the same fleeting thought you might’ve had as well, and now, for the rest of my life, that moment will be with me forever. Tobi in a bag in the sunshine.

I have thoughts about cancer, Nana, and toes, and so I record those thoughts rather than allow them to disappear in the ether. Now I don’t lose those ideas. They become part of the fabric of my day. I may write about one or more of those thoughts at greater length someday, but even if I don’t, my day is now marked by a moment in my driveway when I thought about my toes, a moment n the shower when I was thinking about cancer, and a moment at our table when I thought about Nana.

Over time, Homework for Life will allow you to see these moments, too.

You probably won’t see as many as I do for a while, but even if you saw just one (and some days, I only see one), that would be enough.

During this coronavirus pandemic, I think it’s more important than ever to start seeing these moments. Recording them. Capturing these strange and frightening days so that when the world is more normal than it is today, we can look back and see that this time was important and meaningful, too.

That these days of social distancing and isolation mattered. They were scary and somber, but at times, they were also silly and sweet, filled with thought and nuance and slivers of joy.

Start today. Do it for yourself.

Do it for your future self.

Share this idea with someone you love. Assign them Homework for Life. Do it for them, too.

Why do people use slides in their presentations?

A client is preparing for a talk at an upcoming conference in May (which is in serious jeopardy thanks to the current pandemic) and asked me what I thought about using slides as a part of his presentation.

My answer was simple:

“As few as possible. Zero is a great number. Only when absolutely necessary.”

I went on to explain that you want your audience engaged with you. Looking at you. Not staring at some screen hanging over your head, filled with text and titles and bullets.

“Give an audience something to read, and they will read. Even while you are desperately trying to make a point.”

“Then why do so many speakers use so many slides?” the client asked.

I had a few answers. In fact, when coaching and consulting with speakers, I’ve heard lots of their reasons firsthand.

1. “I need slides because everyone else has slides.”

This is the reason most often given to me in defense of slides. This is also the best reason not to use slides. As a public speaker of any kind, you always want to set yourself apart from your fellow speakers and be as memorable as possible.

The last thing you want is to blend into the crowd. This is not the time to act like a zebra. Instead, you want to be more like Halley’s Comet:

Bright, unusual, and unforgettable.

I have spoken at many TEDx events. Almost every TED producer has asked me to bring a slide deck to rehearsal. I do, of course, but during rehearsal, I ask if I can try my talk without the slides to see what they think.

When I’m finished rehearsing without the slides, the response is always the same:

“You don’t need any slides.”

This isn’t entirely true. I often have a title slide, a closing slide, and slides for anything that is authentically visual:

Graphs, charts, and absolutely necessary images.

But that’s it.

At almost every TEDx event where I have spoken, I have been the speaker with the fewest slides by far, yet my talks have gone exceptionally well. I set myself apart from my fellow speakers, and I did so in a good way. I demonstrated my skill and expertise in conveying an entertaining, engaging, and informative talk without having to constantly click through a PowerPoint.

Doing something because other people are doing it is a recipe for mediocrity.

2. “I need slides to help me remember my talk.”

The response to this is simple:

Rehearse more. If your slides are your de facto teleprompter, you don’t understand the purpose of slides.

You also don’t understand how a teleprompter works. They are designed to allow the speaker to see the text.

Not the audience.

A professional speaker should be able to deliver an outstanding speech even if the projector is fried, a critical cable is missing, or your slides were corrupted during transfer.

I’ve experienced technology problems at many professional development seminars, conferences, and one TEDx Talk. Two years ago I shouted stories at a fundraiser from the top of a folding chair, blinded by cell phone lights pointed in my direction when the power went out.

I still receive compliments on that performance to this day.

Professionals can do the job when the lights go out and all they have left is their voice.

If you are relying in tech to get you through your talk, you’re just asking for trouble, and you’re certainly not a professional.

3. “I need slides to help my audience follow my talk.”

This might be true, but if this is the case, it’s also likely that you’re trying to to say too much. Offering too much information in one sitting. Or not focussed nearly enough.

Possibly all three.

Or your talk isn’t properly structured. Not organized in such a way to make the content accessible to your audience. Not providing them with auditory framing devices to allow them to organize your content in their mind.

There’s nothing wrong with an opening slide that outlines the three key points that you’ll be making as you speak, and there’s nothing wrong with a slide at the end summarizing your most salient takeaways, but if you need a multitude of slides in order to guide your audience through your talk, you might as well just hand out a pamphlet instead.

Or maybe write a book.

4. “I need slides because I need to use technology in my talk.”

Teachers and college students training to become teachers occasionally tell me that they are using slides as a part of their lesson because their administrator, supervisor, or professor require the integration of technology in their teaching.

“Requiring the integration of technology” is a stupid requirement of any lesson, but beyond that, PowerPoint and its newer (but essentially the same) cousins do not constitute technology.

PowerPoint was initially released in 1987, making it older than many of the teachers with whom I work.

PowerPoint is technology in the same way a pencil and a book are technology. Yes, all three are technological marvels, but of the three, PowerPoint is the least marvelous and also 33 years old.

If your administrator, supervisor, or professor consider the use of slides as an adequate integration of technology in a lesson, you are working for a dunderhead.

Sadly, there are a lot of them in this world.

Of all the talks I’ve ever delivered, this (which I’ve delivered more times than I can count) is probably my most well known.

Does it use slides? Yes.

How many? Close to zero.

More importantly (and this should be your standard), only when absolutely necessary.

My immediate and not-surprising response to time on my hands

Yesterday was my last day of teaching for at least two weeks. Schools have shuttered in my school district in an effort to flatten the curve of this global pandemic, and so I find myself at home for the foreseeable future.

In addition to teaching, all of my speaking engagements, workshops, and storytelling performances in March and early April have also been cancelled.

No fewer than five paid speaking gigs have been called off, and we’ve been forced to cancel or postpone two workshops and three shows of our own.

I’ve also cancelled two author talks and a meeting with a bookclub.

This has been an expensive month for me in terms of lost income.

My calendar has honestly not been this empty since 1994 when I finally made it to college and was going to school full time, serving in student government, writing for the school newspaper, competing on the debate team, and managing a restaurant full-time while working in the writing center part-time.

Since those days, I have been constantly, neverendingly, blessedly busy.

No complaints. As I’ve said many times, it’s good to be busy.

Not surprising, my response to this unexpected and unprecedented availability was automatic:

Be productive. Use this time wisely. Try to create some positivity in the midst of this worldwide crisis.

So being me, I made a list.

First item my list:

Write a book.

I know it seems ridiculous to think I could write an entire book over the course of 14 days, but the book is nonfiction, which is much easier for me to write than fiction, and it’s already organized in my mind.

I think I might be able to do it. I’m at least going to try like hell.

Also on the list:

  1. Watch as many Marvel movies as possible with Charlie and Elysha. We have barely watched any of these films, but armed with the proper order to watch them, we will proceed through the catalog thanks to our Disney streaming subscription.

  2. Clean out the garage. The kids have made it a mess by using every item in the garage as a toy and never putting anything away. They are quite annoying.

  3. Empty the basement. I live in a town that provides its residents with free bulk pickup every week, so there will be a constant stream of old furniture and other related items on my curb every Thursday morning for quite a while.

  4. Play every board game that we own with my family at least once. Donate the ones we don’t like anymore.

  5. Read at least two books.

  6. Wash and fold all the laundry in the house, including the bags of old clothing that were recovered from recent closet cleanings.

  7. Do a 10-minute plank.

  8. Write and mail 25 letters.

  9. Begin writing a musical with my partner, Kaia.

  10. Record two Speak Up Storytelling podcasts, bonus content for our Patreon account, plus the final episode of my Twenty-one Truths About Love podcast.

  11. Record at least two new videos for my YouTube channel.

  12. Explore the possible avenues for producing my storytelling instruction for an online platform.

  13. Go through the children’s toy bins at night while they are asleep and throw away or donate old toys that they no longer play with or even know exist. Don’t tell them.

  14. Ride my bike with the kids.

  15. If it’s even close to warm enough, play a round of golf.

I reserve the right to add to this list at any tme.

If you find yourself with time on your hands as a result of this pandemic, I encourage you to find some way to be productive, whatever that might look like for you:

Binge-watch Breaking Bad if that has always been your dream. Prepare your garden for the spring. Take naps. Try a new recipe. Go for walks. Wash your windows. Sew that missing button onto your shirt. Empty your email inbox. Do your taxes.

Oh, I should do my taxes.

When given the thing so many of us complain is in short supply - time - I suggest you make the most of it.

This is how your federal government has responded to the coronavirus pandemic

A few pertinent facts about the Trump administration’s response to the coronavirus pandemic:

The administration is proceeding with its proposed cutting of Health and Human Services funding by $9.5 billion, including a 15 percent cut of $1.2 billion to the CDC and a $35 million cut to the Infectious Diseases Rapid Response Reserve Fund's annual contribution.

The administration still intends to cut food stamps for more than 700,000 Americans on April first, reiterating this intent just yesterday. These are the Americans who are most likely to be without work and be most effected during this pandemic.

Trump fired the US pandemic response team in 2018 and never bothered to replace them.

Two weeks ago, Trump said, “When you have 15 people, and the 15 within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero, that's a pretty good job we've done."

This was despite the clarion call from experts who insisted that action needed to be taken immediately.

One week ago, Trump attempted to prevent Americans from leaving a cruise ship infected with coronavirus.

He said:

“My experts would like to have the people come off. I’d rather have the people stay because I like the numbers being where they are. I don’t need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn’t our fault.”

He was worried that the number of coronavirus cases would increase if Americans disembarked the ship. By leaving them in international waters, the CDC would not include them in the total number of Americans infected with the virus.

He said this aloud.

Trump claimed during his Oval Office address on Wednesday that health insurers "have agreed to waive all copayments for coronavirus treatments."

This was not true. They have agreed to waive copayments for testing (less than $50) but not treatment, which can run into the tens of thousands of dollars if hospitalization is required, which will force many uninsured Americans to forgo testing and treatment entirely.

For many people, waiving of copayments for testing is irrelevant because coronavirus testing kits are in short supply and unavailable in many places in America, despite Trump’s assurances that testing kits are widely distributed throughout America.

Even his own officials refute this claim, often immediately after he makes it.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), a total of at least 11,079 specimens have been tested since January. However, the number of people tested is likely to be lower, as patients typically provide at least two specimens for testing.

By contrast, South Korea has tested more than 210,000 people and is testing nearly 20,000 people every day, while in the UK, more than 29,700 people have been tested, and more than 1,000 tests are being done every day.

Trump claimed during his Oval Office address on Wednesday that all travel from Europe, including cargo, would be suspended indefinitely. This was also not true. Travel for American citizens returning from Europe is still permitted, as are cargo shipments. This confusion sent the stock market into another free fall on Thursday, losing another 7% in just 10 minutes before circuit breakers were triggered, halting trading.

So far the stock market has lost more than 20% of its value.

Trump has also claimed that we are testing anyone arriving from overseas for the coronavirus. This is also not true.

Trump went golfing last Sunday.

Last night he was tweeting about the magnificence of Japan’s new Olympic Stadium and attacking Barack Obama and Joe Biden’s response to the H1Ni pandemic in 2009.

America was not going to avoid this pandemic, but our response has been incompetent, deceitful, negligent, and cruel. As a result, the virus will spread in greater numbers and more Americans will die than was necessary. These are the times when we need swift, decisive, competent, clear direction from our federal government predicated on the counsel of scientists and other leading authorities.

None of this is happening.

At this point, Americans must lean on state and local officials to compensate for an incompetent, disinterested, and cruel federal government. There is nothing we can do to change the reality that I have outlined above.

But in November, Americans will have an opportunity to restore our federal government and its formal levels of expertise, empathy, and preparedness.

We have an opportunity to put the grownups back in charge.

If this crisis doesn’t convince Americans that this racist, sexist, incompetent reality show experiment has failed, I don’t think anything will.

Speak Up Storytelling: Building a Story ("News of Divorce")

On episode #89 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, I try something new. I craft a brand new story on the spot - something I do in workshops but never before on the podcast.

Also something that I don’t entirely love. Not one bit. It’s an opportunity to hear me tell the worst version of a story. A story during its initial inception, filled with mistakes and tangents and inconsistencies.

Still covered in the primordial goo on brith.

That might be a little much, but seriously, it’s not my favorite thing to do, but it’s also the most highly rated part of every one of my workshops, so people like it. So I tried it.

Let me know what you think. Part of me is hoping you love the episode, because I want to produce great content, and part of my hopes you hate it so I never have to do it again.

LINKS

Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Love 

Homework for Life: https://bit.ly/2f9ZPne

Matthew Dicks's website: http://www.matthewdicks.com

Matthew Dicks's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/matthewjohndicks 

Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicksblog

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's weekly newsletter: 
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I have a bunch of jobs, and I want a bunch of jobs

I wear many hats. I do many things. One might think that I collect jobs.

At the moment, my list of jobs for which I am paid for regularly include:

  • elementary school teacher

  • author

  • humor columnist

  • advice columnist

  • dramaturge

  • storyteller

  • public speaker

  • producer

  • podcaster

  • communications/advertising consultant

  • storytelling/speaking coach

  • wedding DJ

  • minister

  • life coach

I’ve also been paid to work as a standup comic and film consultant in 2019 and 2020, but not on a regular basis.

Admittedly the list looks quite long, but many of those jobs boil down to two things:

I teach, and I manipulate words.

Despite my large number of jobs, I always have my eyes on future careers. Perhaps prolonged periods of poverty have caused me to keep as many options open as possible in the event of economic disaster.

More likely, I have an enormous number of interests and believe in the power of saying yes.

Three of these possible future careers that I’ve written about before and am still seeking include:

  1. Professional best man

  2. Double date companion

  3. Grave site visitor

Potential clients have actually attempted to hire me on four separate occasions as a professional best man, but timing and distance have prevented me from taking the job. Three of the jobs landed in the midst of my school year and were from couples on the west coast and London. The fourth was in New Jersey in the middle of my summer vacation, but the groom backed out when his bride found out what he was doing.

She didn’t want a hired gun at her wedding.

I kept my deposit, though, so I made a little money on the deal.

I’m still hoping to find a client someday.

In addition to these jobs, I’ve decided to add two more jobs to the list of those that I am currently (if not actively) seeking:

1. Productivity consultant

Here is my dream:

Hire me for a two week period to improve your work or home life productivity. Based upon my experience and success with my own personal productivity and my lifelong commitment (and possible obsession) with doing more in less time, I believe that I am highly qualified to help any client who has an open mind and is willing to make changes in his or her life in the spirit of efficiency and time management.

During the first week of the two week period, I would follow my client through their day as a silent observer, noting responsibilities, routines, barriers to productivity and choices being made that assist or hinder a client’s personal productivity.

Based upon these observations, I would design a plan of improved productivity, and during the second week, I would follow my client through his or her day again, implementing the plan. This would include building routines into the day to save time, prioritizing tasks based upon long-term outcomes, highlighting moments of inefficiency and suggesting changes in the choices being made that will ultimately lead to increased productivity.

I believe that this training would be effective for everyone from corporate executives to teachers to salespeople to stay-at-home parents. I also believe it would be highly effective for both individuals as well as larger organizations.

I could save people a lot of time.

2. Professional development czar

I have never been foolish enough to accept a position in education outside the classroom. I like working with kids too much, and I am fully aware of the hours and stress dealt with by principals, superintendents, and the like.

No thank you.

Having said that, there is one position that could possibly steal me from the classroom, and that is professional development czar. Specifically, I would like to design and implement all professional development for a school district, and at the same time, coach teachers who are in the first three years of their career.

I believe that professional development in any field (and all education in general) should be entertaining, engaging, and have a clear and immediate impact on performance. I also believe that this is exactly what every professional in the world wants in their professional development.

Yet the number of times I have experienced professional development that meets these three criteria (or even two) is almost none.

I can fix this. And I can do it in four days per week instead of five.

At the same time (and in those same four days), I would also like to coach teachers who are just starting their careers. This is when they are most open to change and feedback. Routines have not yet been hardened. Philosophies have not yet calcified. It’s the time when real change can happen.

I’ve pitched this professional development czar position to several superintendents, and all have said the same thing:

Sounds really great. I don’t have the money.

I get it. The American public continues to skimp on public education and deny children the resources they need, but my response is always the same:

You can’t afford not to hire me.

So far no one has agreed.

In addition to these jobs, I also have a list of more formal, more time consuming occupations that I would like to pursue at some point in my life, perhaps when I decide to leave teaching someday.

This list includes (in no particular order):

  • Behavioral economist

  • Bookstore owner

  • Unlicensed therapist

  • Camp director

  • College professor

  • CEO of Boy Scouts of America

  • Filmmaker

  • Newspaper columnist

  • CEO of Girl Scouts of America

  • Professional poker player

  • Hot dog vendor at an MLB stadium

  • Bartender

  • Sociologist

Before it became illegal to play poker online, one could argue that I was already working as a professional poker player, earning enough to pay for our honeymoon and more, and if and when it becomes legal again, I suspect that I will return to this profession.

I could start other jobs like newspaper columnist at any time. I’m just waiting for someone to offer me the gig.

I’ve dreamt of becoming an unlicensed therapist for some time. I don’t want to go back to school to become a licensed professional, but I think I would be good enough to attract clients despite the lack of credentials, and at least one therapist who I know agrees and suggested that I hang out a shingle.

I could also begin teaching college classes at some point while still teaching elementary school, but ideally, I’d like to be offered a job as a full-time professor at a school where I would help to prepare teachers for the world that they will face.

Most of are not being prepared properly.

I’m still waiting for someone to come a’calling.

My message in writing this post is a simple one:

I hope you have a variety of interests. I hope you tun out of time before you run out of things that you want to do. The average American will change careers 5-7 times during their working life according to career change statistics.

I’ve been an elementary school teacher for 21 years. I’ve been a wedding DJ for 23 years.

I am an anomaly in today’s world.

Then again, I’ve also managed to launch and build a number of other jobs in that time, so I perhaps I simply fit the statistics in my own special way.

Either way, cultivate new interests. Explore opportunities. Begin building your knowledge and expertise in other ares.

Have lots of things that interest you.

This week’s Moth Radio Hour featured a woman who became a park ranger at the age of 80.

There’s always time to try something new.

Perfection

I experience many good, very good, and even great moments in a day.

Eating my Egg McMuffin every morning is a legitimately great moment for me (followed by the saddest moment of almost every day when breakfast is over).

Listening to a student say, “Oh, I get it now!” is just as great as an Egg McMuffin.

Maybe even a little better.

Staring at Elysha is pretty fantastic.

Absorbing the full body hugs of my children upon arriving home from work might be the best moment of almost every day.

There are the little things, too. Those smaller, less significant moments that are also quite lovely:

Offering much-needed advice to a colleague. Purchasing stock on the dip. Listening to a cat who has planted himself on my lap purr. Discovering that a meeting has been cancelled. Helping my kids with their homework. Capturing an audience’s attention with a story. Removing a bit of clutter from our home. Reading a collection of scintillating sentences. Managing to write a few scintillating sentences of my own.

Sometimes we are lucky enough to capture one of these moments of perfection with a photograph.

Yesterday was one of those days.