Teachers – Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership

The Pressure Inside

Every now and then, I think about people who are no longer here and ask myself what they left with me. A lesson. A phrase. A moment I still can’t fully explain.

Mr. McNally left me a question.

He was teaching us about entropy in his AP Chemistry class and asked why the air in a bicycle tire doesn’t simply settle to the bottom.

Air has weight. Gravity acts on it. So why doesn’t all the air sink to the lowest part of the tire like a pile of sand? Why does it keep pressing outward against the walls?

It’s a simple image, which is probably why I still remember it almost fifty years later.

The air inside the tire is made up of tiny particles moving rapidly in every direction. They collide with each other, and with the inside wall of the tire. Those collisions create pressure.

Gravity is present but its pull is weak compared to the thermal energy of all those molecules.

The air fills the space it’s given. It presses outward. It resists settling.

That old chemistry question came back to me recently as a life question.

What keeps us from settling? From succumbing to the gravitational pull in all of us.

Staying where life feels familiar. Waiting for more certainty. Keeping the pattern because changing it will cost us something.

Waiting sounds reasonable. It borrows the language of patience, prudence, and practicality. And at times, those are the right virtues. Wisdom often tells us to slow down.

But inertia can dress itself up as wisdom. Fear can call itself realism. Comfort can pretend to be peace.

That’s when we begin settling to the bottom of our lives.

The air doesn’t fulfill its purpose by collecting in the lowest place. It fills the available space. It presses against the walls. It creates pressure because motion is still happening inside.

Human life has its own version of that energy.

Purpose. Discipline. Faith.

These keep us from sinking into the lowest-energy version of ourselves.

The tire reminds us that pressure comes from movement. A life with purpose has an outward push to it. It presses against fear, complacency, and inertia. It expands into the space it has been given.

We don’t have to be reckless or maintain constant motion. But we need enough internal purpose to overcome the quiet pull of our internal gravity.

I’m grateful Mr. McNally asked that question all those years ago. At the time, it was a chemistry lesson about entropy, motion, and pressure.

Decades later, it’s still teaching me.

The tire doesn’t fight gravity. It just has something inside it that never stops moving.

I think that’s all any of us can ask of ourselves.

Photo by Leon Seierlein on Unsplash

Teachers, Mentors, and the Grace That Carries Us

“There is no Frigate like a Book / To take us Lands away.”

Emily Dickinson wrote these words in her quiet room, understanding something I didn’t grasp for decades. The greatest journeys begin within.

I know her poem only because of my 11th grade AP English teacher, Mr. Cox. As a rambunctious and cocky 11th grader, would I have taken any of my “super valuable” time to read poems, sonnets, short stories, even books? No way.

But because of his work (and the work of countless other teachers along the way), I did read. A lot. I learned tons of material and information that didn’t matter to me at the time…but matter a lot today.

My focus back then was simple. Be the best student, get the highest test scores, pass as many AP tests as possible, and earn varsity letters in multiple sports. Mostly, I wanted to beat everyone else, pure and simple. It helped that I was blessed with an almost photographic memory and could recall facts and formulas with ease (sadly, not so much nowadays).

I carried that mindset into college. I loved being the student who defined the grading curve for the class. I was annoyed if I didn’t get every single point on an assignment, midterm, or final. I had an almost uncontrollable drive to outshine everyone…as if that was all that mattered.

I was completely wrong.

On the bright side, that drive and motivation made me a successful student and propelled me into my early career.

On the other hand, seeing everyone as my competition, and less as people, meant I probably missed out on a lot of fun. And lots of friendships that never happened. I was so focused on the destination that I forgot to notice who was traveling with me.

That realization connects me back to Dickinson’s frigate in ways I never expected. She saw the book as a vessel capable of carrying anyone, anywhere, without cost or permission. But what I’ve learned over nearly fifty years since high school is that I was asking the wrong question. It was never “How far can I go?” It was “Who am I becoming, and who’s helping me understand?”

My journey from that hyper-competitive teenager to what I hope is a much more caring, thoughtful, empathetic, nuanced, and life-giving person has been propelled by those same teachers I mentioned earlier, and a longer line of guides who keep showing up at the right time in my life.

I didn’t realize it then, but those books, poems, and teachers were all part of my fleet of frigates. Each one quietly helped me close the distance between knowledge and understanding, between my ambition and wisdom.

My mentors, family, and friends have all been vessels that carried me through changing seas. Some taught me to sail straight into the wind. Others reminded me that drifting for a while can be part of my journey as well. Each lesson mattered, even the ones that didn’t make sense at the time…especially those.

Over time, life has a way of sanding down our sharper edges, revealing something deeper underneath. My focus slowly shifted from being the best at something to becoming the best version of myself.

Now, when I think about Emily Dickinson’s frigate, I picture something far greater than a book. I picture a lifetime of learning, carried by the people who invested their time, wisdom, and patience in me. Mr. Cox, and others who gave freely of their time and wisdom, helped me see that the destination isn’t solely becoming the top of the class. It’s finding a profound depth of understanding, the expansion of empathy, and the ability to see beauty and meaning in small, unexpected places.

If I could go back and talk to that 16-year-old version of myself, I’d tell him the real tests aren’t scored on paper. They’re graded every day in how we treat people, how we listen, and how we show grace.

I’d tell him that the frigate he thinks he’s steering alone has always been guided by grace. The true measure of his voyage will be how much space he makes for others to come aboard.

We’re all learning to sail, carried by the steady hand of God.

We never really travel alone.

Photo by Rafael Garcin on Unsplash

Will This Be On The Test?!?!

I’m told that this is one of the top questions students (and parents) ask of teachers.

Test questions in school come in many standard forms: true or false, multiple choice, essay…just to name a few. Oh yeah, and word problems! Decipher the riddle, find all the numbers that fit into formulas, and arrive at an answer (hopefully, the correct one). And, of course, remember to show your work.

We’re taught in school that there is only one correct answer to most questions. Columbus discovered the New World in 1492, not 1493. It takes two hydrogens and one oxygen to make water, not two oxygens and one hydrogen. The student’s job is to learn (memorize?) the correct answers and then “ace” their test by answering all of the questions correctly.

It’s no wonder students ask what will be on their tests. After all, their grade is in play. Who wouldn’t want to know what they should study, and what they can ignore? So much is riding on the outcome.

Tests outside of school aren’t as easy. The questions don’t come from our teachers. Variables are often missing, and formulas rarely provide one definitive answer. They aren’t always fair. They don’t come with a study guide. There’s no advice about what should be studied, or ignored. Real life tests come from our family, friends, customers, co-workers, managers, elected officials, our children’s teachers, strangers, and ourselves…on a daily basis. A lot more than a grade is in play with most of these tests.

Attention to detail, listening to what is said and unsaid, curiosity, creativity, openness to risk, connecting with others we trust, and a clear sense of right and wrong are the guides we have in answering the real life test questions we face.

What’ll be on your next test? Everything you’ve experienced in life up to this point, and probably a few things you haven’t seen before. Here’s hoping you studied well.

Test Question: What’s the connection between this post and the sunrise photo?

Wanna Learn Something? Think Like a Teacher!

You try to listen and stay focused. Your mind wanders a bit. You force it back in line. After all, there may be something useful here that you can apply to your work…

You’re sitting in a training class. The instructor is describing some new set of management concepts or the latest system enhancements. You try to listen and stay focused. Your mind wanders a bit. You force it back in line. After all, there may be something useful here that you can apply to your work.

Later, someone asks you how the class went. You shrug your shoulders, reporting that you learned a couple of new things. You then have trouble describing what you’ve learned. Not an inspiring endorsement.

Imagine the same training class. But, now you’re there to learn the material well enough to present the same class to another group next week.

You don’t get to pick and choose what applies to your work. You need to learn the subject in its entirety. Preparing to teach a subject requires active learning. You’ll watch how the material is presented, the visual aids and examples the presenter uses, and the way the presenter moves around the room. Nothing less than full mastery of the information will suffice. Anything less could lead to failure when it’s your turn to teach.

Do yourself a favor. Prepare like a teacher, learn like a teacher, and think like a teacher. The truth is, you will be teaching this class next week…to yourself, as you try to remember and apply what you learned in the class.