Counting on Happiness

One, two, four, five, seven, six, nine, ten, eleven, thirteen, twelve... In recent weeks I have discovered that this is how some people count. My workload has recently increased, but the hours I am available to work, have not. So until "the powers that be" are able to effectively restructure, I have been given some limited temporary help, and others are pitching in when they can. To aid in this transition, I have created a number of process guides. When given these step-by-step, numbered sets of instructions and one round of training, more often than not, the instructions are set aside and these grown-up, responsible adults forget how to count. And even once they are on their own, if I am nearby, they often choose to ask me rather than to find the answer amongst all those nonsensical hieroglyphics.

Perhaps it is a question of ownership. Or power. Or comfort. Or perhaps, in this day and age of instant social contact at one's fingertips, it is simply an aversion to the impersonal nature of written instruction. As cultural diversity, social interaction, and individual aptitudes have evolved, (all, I believe, for the better), learning styles have also changed. So perhaps my expectations for one to take ownership, without power, and with some discomfort, and to additionally count accurately from 1 to 13 without becoming distracted, are too high.

Really!

Perhaps Not.

Perhaps instead, I am being too quick to judge, and my expectations, (instead of being too high), actually fall short. I say this now, because as the learning process (for these specific tasks), has advanced, I am beginning to notice fewer questions and more frequent referencing of the written process guides. And I have found that thirteen really should go before twelve, and we really can skip eight. We have improved the process. At the beginning, what I took to be an inability to follow instructions was instead, a product of the aforementioned advanced and evolving individual aptitudes. Learners today don't necessarily have an aversion to the impersonal nature of written instruction, but we do have an aversion to blind obedience. Learners today are skeptical. Learners today need to ask questions, and want to understand. This is good. My original assessment was wrong.

To extend this thought, I believe that this practice of skeptical questioning and this desire for a greater depth of understanding, is more apparent and easier to implement in an impersonal circumstance, (such as written instruction). To add a friend or family member, or even just an acquaintance or a stranger with a charismatic personality, creates a more personal circumstance which has the potential to discourage skepticism and quell disagreement. This is not good.

Did I mention that I was wrong in my original assessment?

It is much easier to be skeptical than to be questioned. When I think about that and actively acknowledge that it is much easier to be skeptical than to be questioned, I also realize that the more personal and/or the more emotional the circumstance, the more difficult it is to practice productive, two-way skepticism. Even with my active acknowledgement, if another does not also actively acknowledge the value of being questioned, the learning and growth is halved. And this is why the fringe is the fringe, and also why the mainstream is divided; a network of tributaries of varying widths and depths and speeds, that split and evolve and rejoin and split again, with the fringe running alongside on the banks, trying to simultaneously dig new channels and keep up. It is no surprise that, (at least for now), most individuals choose to float along on the widest, shallowest, slowest, safest branch they can find.

But it is also encouraging to learn that thirteen can come before twelve.

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