Tuesday, June 12, 2012

A good lesson for me to learn: Stop teaching

"I've been teaching empty classrooms for years."
After reading several good bloggers's posts, I recognized something different about my blog posts.  Whereas many great posts end strongly with a question, my posts -- attempts at reflection -- often end with something that I don't set out to do:  A lesson.

If you blog or have read just about any article about blogging, you can probably tell me that I'm not supposed to end it with a lesson; I'm supposed to end it with an invitation for a response.  Even most (maybe some) preachers with blogs know that.

My problem seems to be rooted in how I relate to people. 

If you've seen The Hangover part II (please don't if you haven't), you might remember a scene where Alan Garner flashes back to the night no one else can remember.  He sees himself and his friends as 12 year-olds.  It explains a lot about him.  The scary thing is that I sometimes act like I see everyone else as a 12 year-old.  The exception is myself:  I'm the adult.  And what do adults do?  They teach children valuable lessons.

How jacked up is that?
Not really sure what's happening here, but it's jacked up, too.
It's another sad reminder that I pretend the world revolves around me.  It's like I've already forgotten that which I don't want to be reminded of.  I am so thankful that I'm not as important as I pretend to be.  But why do I keep pretending I'm so important?  If anything, I'm the 12 year-old boy in a world of people who know better than me.

I'm far from a prolific blogger, but that's no excuse for not loving people and recognizing how important and how smart they are.  I think that's the reason for it deep down.  And it's definitely something I'm trying to recognize and change.

This is where I'm supposed to end with a McGuffin, a film device now used incorrectly in social media.  This is also something I'm not good at.  Maybe this will invite a response, though: 

I think many of us struggle with everyday struggles against selfishness and ego.  Mine exhibits itself in the need to teach a lesson.  I'd love to hear [read] about any ways you see this in yourself, and -- even better -- how you have battled against it.  Hopefully this will encourage Angela that there is hope for me.

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