I’ve learned a lot about llamas in this past week.
My seven year old had to put together his first major school project, which was presented yesterday. It involved months of research and putting together exhibits and a “product” associated with the theme, which my son elected to have as a game. A lot of this was completed at school, and a lot was to be done at home. The theme was the llama.
I now know llamas are gentile creatures, but they do display their anger in a number of ways. If you piss them off, they will hiss, spit, kick, or simply lie down and refuse to do anything for you. They’ll put the effort in most of the time, and have a fantastic ability to do work. But don’t piss them off, or it won’t work well for you.
Outside of that, though, the hardest part of the project was to keep myself out of the project, and let the little guy do it his way. When we got to a hurdle, or an object that needed to be produced, my job was to ask leading questions, to coach, and to take 100% gospel direction from the kid. A lot of times, I thought I could produce a much better and more interesting product by simply doing it myself. But that’s not the point, by a long shot. The point was to give the kid full control and let him live and die with the results he produced, and to have him learn along the way.
I went into the presentation and there was this one project that was…. perfect. I’ve worked with billion dollar companies that have graphics departments that didn’t produce that quality of work. The text was in concise and articulate paragraphs, the organization was helpful and informative, and the display piece was a sparkling marvel of form and function. And unless this is the most precocious seven year old that has walked the earth in the past 2005 years, not a fucking bit of it was done by the kid.
No, my kid’s project was delightfully messy, but still a remarkable quality product. And I was absolutely proud of him presenting it, and more of how he worked diligently throughout the months and made it his own. My ego was served by his accomplishment, and I guarantee I feel much better than Super Dad that produced his kid’s project, because I got to work with my kid and see him learn and grow.
Ego is probably the most destructive force in the universe. My ego could have destroyed my relationship with my kid, and I didn’t let that happen. What is the value of your ego anyway? Entire cultures are based on nurturing and protecting men’s precious egos, and to what end? Sure, it is the hardest thing in the world to put aside your pride, but when you do, you receive massive rewards for it, especially when you’re wrong and your ego wouldn’t let you admit it.
Seven months of hard work has come down to an intense two-month postseason that will decide which team captain is presented with Lord Stanley’s Cup after securing win number 16. The NHL playoffs are must-see TV on a nightly basis. The pace of the game picks up. The atmosphere in every arena is incredible. Every player, fan, and coach holds their breath with each puck thrown towards the net. The champions will have their names etched on one the rings of the Stanley Cup, forever immortalized with names of greats like Gretzky, Lemieux, Howe, and Orr.
Attention loyal readers of Out of Bounds who happen also to be members of Al Qaeda or any similar terrorist organization:
“It was the worst of times, it was the absolute worst of times” would be the opening line to a novel about the Columbus Blue Jackets 2011-12 season. The Blue Jackets began the season losing their first eight games, managing just one point for an overtime loss in the process. Forty-five losses later, the team has just two games left to play before setting up tee times and fulfilling vacation plans.
Out Of Bounds, 3-30-12