Context
A colleague of mine at the library was telling me that after cleaning files and books off her desk that had been there for a long time, she was surprised to see that there were a bunch of ink stains on the surface from when she'd been writing and smeared. I told her that never happened to me as I rarely use an "ink pen" for my job.
Commentary
My parents were Southerners, but I don't usually consider myself one. Over time, though, I've taken on some of the speech patterns of American South. For example, I can't tell you the last time I actually pronounced the "g" at the end of an "ing" verb. I used "y'all" long before I moved to Shreveport, because it cures the omission of a second person plural in formal English, and now that I'm here I also find myself saying things like "buggy" for "grocery cart." Apparently "ink pen" has joined the mix.
I found myself wondering today why people in the South add the word "ink" to "pen." Don't all pens have ink? Well, pig pens don't, but I don't think that's the issue. It comes back to an inherent problem with Southern English, a drawback to the drawl, if you will: there is pretty much no difference between the short "e" sound and the short "i" sound. This is usually not a big deal, as context will tell the listener the difference between "bliss" and "bless" and between "tin" and "ten." How often does someone ask you to lend them tin dollars, after all?
"Pin" and "pen" are different though, because they're often used in the same context. Picture me sitting at my desk in the I.T. department. I can't see my colleague in the next cubicle, so if she says, "I need a pin," I don't know if she's asking for something to write with or the password for a web page she's trying to access. The problem is not relieved by the natural tendency of people to make a word longer in order to be clear. If I ask my workmate to repeat herself, no matter what she wanted she's going to say, "a pee-ye-nuh." No help at all.
You may think I'm ragging on Southern speech, but I'm not. A true drawl is a lovely, mellifluous thing, greatly to be admired. If you've never heard one, you probably think the name "Lynn" consists of one syllable. Nuh-uh. My late mother-in-law, who was from East Texas, routinely drew it out to four. Remember up above, when I was talking about "short e" and "short i?" That's how I was taught to describe them when I was in grade school, but that was a long time ago and I wasn't in the South. I don't know what students are taught here, because there's no such thing as a short vowel sound. Shorter, maybe, but not short. And the shortest of them all is what is technically classified as a long vowel sound: the "i" in "fire." It's pronounced "ah." That means it's difficult to tell the difference between "fire" and "far," but again, context helps.
Nor do I think my perception that there is no distinction between the "e" and the "i" is because I'm not from 'round here (Yup, I use all kinds of Southernisms). I honestly don't think native-born Southerners can tell the difference either, because I've heard conversations between them that sound like the one described a couple of paragraphs ago. Apparently some time ago someone decided to resolve the problem by adding "ink" in front of the appropriate "pen," and the solution caught on. Ironically, the similar-sounding vowels have not become a part of my speech yet, but the workaround has. I guess I am now prepared to ramp up my drawl.
What did you hear today?
Showing posts with label diversity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diversity. Show all posts
11/09/2012
2/27/2012
I saw a call to action
Context
I was looking at my library's list of new audiobooks, when I came across Charles Moore's Plastic Ocean: How a Sea Captain's Chance Discovery Launched a Determined Quest to Save the Oceans. I don't plan to read the book, but I was horrified by the idea that there's a part of the ocean where plastic refuse has just taken over.
Commentary
Despite the fact that I haven't read this book, I'm still interested in its purpose. Not so much the environmental one, although cleaning up the oceans is a good and worthy cause, but the motivational one. This book probably contains accounts of both the sea captain's discovery and his quest, but I'm assuming the main purpose is to convince others to join him in the endeavor. In fact, if the description of the plastic-filled North Pacific Subtropical Gyre is horrifying enough, I'm thinking the author believes that will be a sufficient call to action.
It won't be, though.I've written before about how I see a great deal of information, care about only some of it and only act on a small portion of that. At the moment, just reading the basic premise of Plastic Ocean makes me care, but not enough to even take the action of reading the actual book.
Discouraging, no? You could have an epiphany, write a book about it, move people to care, even, and still get no tangible results from the effort. How can an experience that completely changed one person's life have little to no effect on another's? Quick! Hundreds of evangelical preachers are waiting for your answer!
Easy. People are different. Their priorities are different, their values are different, their very way of experiencing the same phenomenon are different. I am concerned about the amount of trash in the ocean. However, at the moment I am more concerned about taking care of my husband and the animals who live in our home, so I won't be changing careers in order to help refarm kelp. I'm concerned about saving time, so I'm not going to take the extraordinary measures necessary to create a zero waste household. And so on. Succinctly, it's not my thing.
And yet not so simple, because I believe our reactions to these differences cause the vast majority of conflicts in both our personal and societal relationships. In a bizarre combination of arrogance and insecurity, we believe if something is important to us, it must be important to everyone. Otherwise, they'll just be wrong. Or we'll be wrong. Or something. So we'll put a great deal of effort into changing others' minds, which is fine. But if that doesn't work, we'll decide to put a great deal of force into doing so. And preventing that IS my thing.
What did you see today?
I was looking at my library's list of new audiobooks, when I came across Charles Moore's Plastic Ocean: How a Sea Captain's Chance Discovery Launched a Determined Quest to Save the Oceans. I don't plan to read the book, but I was horrified by the idea that there's a part of the ocean where plastic refuse has just taken over.
Commentary
Despite the fact that I haven't read this book, I'm still interested in its purpose. Not so much the environmental one, although cleaning up the oceans is a good and worthy cause, but the motivational one. This book probably contains accounts of both the sea captain's discovery and his quest, but I'm assuming the main purpose is to convince others to join him in the endeavor. In fact, if the description of the plastic-filled North Pacific Subtropical Gyre is horrifying enough, I'm thinking the author believes that will be a sufficient call to action.
It won't be, though.I've written before about how I see a great deal of information, care about only some of it and only act on a small portion of that. At the moment, just reading the basic premise of Plastic Ocean makes me care, but not enough to even take the action of reading the actual book.
Discouraging, no? You could have an epiphany, write a book about it, move people to care, even, and still get no tangible results from the effort. How can an experience that completely changed one person's life have little to no effect on another's? Quick! Hundreds of evangelical preachers are waiting for your answer!
Easy. People are different. Their priorities are different, their values are different, their very way of experiencing the same phenomenon are different. I am concerned about the amount of trash in the ocean. However, at the moment I am more concerned about taking care of my husband and the animals who live in our home, so I won't be changing careers in order to help refarm kelp. I'm concerned about saving time, so I'm not going to take the extraordinary measures necessary to create a zero waste household. And so on. Succinctly, it's not my thing.
And yet not so simple, because I believe our reactions to these differences cause the vast majority of conflicts in both our personal and societal relationships. In a bizarre combination of arrogance and insecurity, we believe if something is important to us, it must be important to everyone. Otherwise, they'll just be wrong. Or we'll be wrong. Or something. So we'll put a great deal of effort into changing others' minds, which is fine. But if that doesn't work, we'll decide to put a great deal of force into doing so. And preventing that IS my thing.
What did you see today?
10/25/2011
I saw the second response to a change
Context
I am the system administrator for the integrated library system at my workplace, which is what we use to electronically catalog and circulate items, as well as keep track of patron records. Our vendor for this product is SirsiDynix. Over the years, SirsiDynix has tried to foster a user community by maintaining listservs for individual pieces of their software.
SirsiDynix recently announced the creation a bunch of new listservs, because they've expanded their product line in several new directions. This caused an outcry among users, who wrote to the system administrators listserv (because it is our main method of communication outside of conferences) saying they couldn't possibly keep up with so many new lists and there should be more consolidation. Today, another set of voices emerged talking about the advantages of keeping separated lists for separate products and giving tips to the first group about managing e-mail. I cannot link to any of this correspondence, as these discussions are considered proprietary to SirsiDynix.
Commentary
When the aforementioned people got upset about the new listservs I thought, "Really? Is it that bad?", and waited for cooler heads to prevail. In my opinion, they did; there hasn't been any more back and forth on this issue; just "Oh, this is awful!" then, "No, it isn't; here's why:" and nothing further.
I've noticed this a lot lately. When new information appears, there seem to be two sets of people: reactors, who say the first thing that comes to their heads, often proved hyperbolic or downright erroneous later, and analyzers, who look at what the reactors say and come up with a reasoned response. I'd like to say that the analyzers are the only ones doing anything useful, but looking at the dynamic, I'm not sure that's true. The analyzers need the reactors, because otherwise they won't say anything.
Here's an example: an analyzer might look at the Occupy Wall Street protesters and say, "This is a group of people that is displeased about the direction the country is going; they're not terribly organized, but they seem OK with that; they're generally harmless." The thing is, I never heard anyone say those things about OWS until after I heard people say the protest was going to change everything, the revolution was underway, and the end of the world was at hand. I think analyzers think their well-reasoned viewpoint is the prevailing one, so they don't bother to say anything until the reactors have proved them wrong.
Well, not proved them wrong, exactly. I don't think reactors are more numerous than analyzers, just louder and more obvious at the beginning of a timeline. In fact, I think many reactors turn into analyzers over time. I know I do; my first response to information may be spontaneous and visceral, but after a while I often come to see and express a viewpoint that is more considered and transcendant. I don't think either response is correct per se; there seems to be a yinyang quality at work here that is worth preserving.
What did you see today?
I am the system administrator for the integrated library system at my workplace, which is what we use to electronically catalog and circulate items, as well as keep track of patron records. Our vendor for this product is SirsiDynix. Over the years, SirsiDynix has tried to foster a user community by maintaining listservs for individual pieces of their software.
SirsiDynix recently announced the creation a bunch of new listservs, because they've expanded their product line in several new directions. This caused an outcry among users, who wrote to the system administrators listserv (because it is our main method of communication outside of conferences) saying they couldn't possibly keep up with so many new lists and there should be more consolidation. Today, another set of voices emerged talking about the advantages of keeping separated lists for separate products and giving tips to the first group about managing e-mail. I cannot link to any of this correspondence, as these discussions are considered proprietary to SirsiDynix.
Commentary
When the aforementioned people got upset about the new listservs I thought, "Really? Is it that bad?", and waited for cooler heads to prevail. In my opinion, they did; there hasn't been any more back and forth on this issue; just "Oh, this is awful!" then, "No, it isn't; here's why:" and nothing further.
I've noticed this a lot lately. When new information appears, there seem to be two sets of people: reactors, who say the first thing that comes to their heads, often proved hyperbolic or downright erroneous later, and analyzers, who look at what the reactors say and come up with a reasoned response. I'd like to say that the analyzers are the only ones doing anything useful, but looking at the dynamic, I'm not sure that's true. The analyzers need the reactors, because otherwise they won't say anything.
Here's an example: an analyzer might look at the Occupy Wall Street protesters and say, "This is a group of people that is displeased about the direction the country is going; they're not terribly organized, but they seem OK with that; they're generally harmless." The thing is, I never heard anyone say those things about OWS until after I heard people say the protest was going to change everything, the revolution was underway, and the end of the world was at hand. I think analyzers think their well-reasoned viewpoint is the prevailing one, so they don't bother to say anything until the reactors have proved them wrong.
Well, not proved them wrong, exactly. I don't think reactors are more numerous than analyzers, just louder and more obvious at the beginning of a timeline. In fact, I think many reactors turn into analyzers over time. I know I do; my first response to information may be spontaneous and visceral, but after a while I often come to see and express a viewpoint that is more considered and transcendant. I don't think either response is correct per se; there seems to be a yinyang quality at work here that is worth preserving.
What did you see today?
5/28/2011
I heard an acquaintance disagree with me
Context
Colleagues of my husband's are expecting a baby in August, so we went to a shower for them today. In the course of talking with the man of the couple, I had two disagreements with him strong enough that I felt the need to walk away rather than say something ugly.
Commentary
I like to argue, or at least, I like to debate issues. I'm one of those people who will say things I don't even believe just to make sure the person I'm talking with is considering all possible viewpoints.
For me, the ideal person to debate with is someone who is either equally powerful to me or more powerful in the current situation, because I don't want to oppress someone with my argumentativeness. I also want the person to have an intellect I respect, because then I feel like I can incorporate their reasoning into my future understanding of the issue.
So I'm distressed at a trait I've recently discovered in myself when I'm talking with a person I consider reasonably intelligent. If we disagree about something important to me, there's a good chance I'll reassess the other person's intelligence, rather than my opinion. It doesn't happen all the time, but it feels like an extra inappropriate hurdle I'm making people get over before I'll listen to them respectfully.
What did you hear today?
Colleagues of my husband's are expecting a baby in August, so we went to a shower for them today. In the course of talking with the man of the couple, I had two disagreements with him strong enough that I felt the need to walk away rather than say something ugly.
Commentary
I like to argue, or at least, I like to debate issues. I'm one of those people who will say things I don't even believe just to make sure the person I'm talking with is considering all possible viewpoints.
For me, the ideal person to debate with is someone who is either equally powerful to me or more powerful in the current situation, because I don't want to oppress someone with my argumentativeness. I also want the person to have an intellect I respect, because then I feel like I can incorporate their reasoning into my future understanding of the issue.
So I'm distressed at a trait I've recently discovered in myself when I'm talking with a person I consider reasonably intelligent. If we disagree about something important to me, there's a good chance I'll reassess the other person's intelligence, rather than my opinion. It doesn't happen all the time, but it feels like an extra inappropriate hurdle I'm making people get over before I'll listen to them respectfully.
What did you hear today?
2/15/2011
I saw responses to unwelcome opinions
Context
Today I saw two similar things in different places. First on PUBLIB, an e-mail list for public librarians, I saw a series of inflammatory posts (one example here, but you can find others if you browse the February entries by the same author, Matthew Price), followed by some equally inflammatory responses and several well-considered ones, including this one by Robert Baillot. Then on Slashdot, I saw another discussion initiated by quoting Glenn Beck in one of his more outrageous moods and evolving into a metadiscussion of how to respond to outrageous opinions. By the way, that last link is a little tricky. You may have to do some collapsing and expanding of comments to see what I'm talking about.
Commentary
Almost since the inception of the internet, people have been using it to exchange opinions. And almost since the start of that activity, there have been trolls, which are defined as people who take an inflammatory stand just for the sake of being inflammatory, not because they actually believe it. The perception is that trolls get off on attention or on getting people upset because they think it makes them superior.
The conventional wisdom about this phenomenon is "Don't feed the trolls," i.e. don't encourage their bad behavior by responding, but I was intrigued by the two responses I saw that seemed to fly in the face of that. "Ephemeriis" takes a civic responsibility approach, saying that since Glenn Beck is taken seriously in some quarters, the opposition is obligated to craft a serious rebuttal. Robert Balliot goes him one better by quoting Aristotle to make the point that every idea deserves consideration, even the rantings of a troll.
These responses are challenging to me. I often believe in operant conditioning, or at least the principle I learned from my mother: "If you ignore someone, he'll go away." But is getting someone to go away really my goal? Or is it engagement, where I continue to grapple with the people who drive me crazy in the belief that the God who loves all of us might be trying to tell me something?
What did you see today?
Today I saw two similar things in different places. First on PUBLIB, an e-mail list for public librarians, I saw a series of inflammatory posts (one example here, but you can find others if you browse the February entries by the same author, Matthew Price), followed by some equally inflammatory responses and several well-considered ones, including this one by Robert Baillot. Then on Slashdot, I saw another discussion initiated by quoting Glenn Beck in one of his more outrageous moods and evolving into a metadiscussion of how to respond to outrageous opinions. By the way, that last link is a little tricky. You may have to do some collapsing and expanding of comments to see what I'm talking about.
Commentary
Almost since the inception of the internet, people have been using it to exchange opinions. And almost since the start of that activity, there have been trolls, which are defined as people who take an inflammatory stand just for the sake of being inflammatory, not because they actually believe it. The perception is that trolls get off on attention or on getting people upset because they think it makes them superior.
The conventional wisdom about this phenomenon is "Don't feed the trolls," i.e. don't encourage their bad behavior by responding, but I was intrigued by the two responses I saw that seemed to fly in the face of that. "Ephemeriis" takes a civic responsibility approach, saying that since Glenn Beck is taken seriously in some quarters, the opposition is obligated to craft a serious rebuttal. Robert Balliot goes him one better by quoting Aristotle to make the point that every idea deserves consideration, even the rantings of a troll.
These responses are challenging to me. I often believe in operant conditioning, or at least the principle I learned from my mother: "If you ignore someone, he'll go away." But is getting someone to go away really my goal? Or is it engagement, where I continue to grapple with the people who drive me crazy in the belief that the God who loves all of us might be trying to tell me something?
What did you see today?
12/16/2010
I saw an icon on my desktop
Context
I was sending material to the consultant who's setting up an intranet for Shreve Memorial today. While I was working, I happened to notice the icon for editing the library's new website that I put on my desktop a few days ago.
Commentary
OK, I know, "Way to put nothing useful in the Context, Lynn!" The reason the juxtaposition above struck me as interesting is that I was not entirely happy about the way either our website or our intranet was set up. Yet here I was, happily contributing to both of them now that they are faits accompli. That's pretty much normal for me; once a decision is made I prefer to deal with the new reality rather than stewing or sulking. I'm not passive-aggressive, in other words. Aggressive-aggressive, but not passive-aggressive.
So does that mean I cave when I lose an argument? Maybe. For me it just means acknowledging the argument is in fact lost, that I can see things not go my way and I don't have to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to reset the universe. Plus it doesn't seem weak to me; it seems empowering. A decision gets made; I don't agree with it; I then get to make my own decision whether to adapt, fight openly, or leave, all of which sound more productive to me than denial or sabotage.
Frankly, sometimes my flexibility in accommodating different viewpoints feels like a great intellectual and/or spiritual achievement to me. And yes, sometimes I go along with a new procedure just so I can be around to see how spectacularly it'll fail. So maybe I'm a little passive-aggressive.
What did you see today?
I was sending material to the consultant who's setting up an intranet for Shreve Memorial today. While I was working, I happened to notice the icon for editing the library's new website that I put on my desktop a few days ago.
Commentary
OK, I know, "Way to put nothing useful in the Context, Lynn!" The reason the juxtaposition above struck me as interesting is that I was not entirely happy about the way either our website or our intranet was set up. Yet here I was, happily contributing to both of them now that they are faits accompli. That's pretty much normal for me; once a decision is made I prefer to deal with the new reality rather than stewing or sulking. I'm not passive-aggressive, in other words. Aggressive-aggressive, but not passive-aggressive.
So does that mean I cave when I lose an argument? Maybe. For me it just means acknowledging the argument is in fact lost, that I can see things not go my way and I don't have to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to reset the universe. Plus it doesn't seem weak to me; it seems empowering. A decision gets made; I don't agree with it; I then get to make my own decision whether to adapt, fight openly, or leave, all of which sound more productive to me than denial or sabotage.
Frankly, sometimes my flexibility in accommodating different viewpoints feels like a great intellectual and/or spiritual achievement to me. And yes, sometimes I go along with a new procedure just so I can be around to see how spectacularly it'll fail. So maybe I'm a little passive-aggressive.
What did you see today?
11/10/2010
I saw a description of groupings
Context
I read Andrew Sullivan's article about the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear on The Atlantic's website today. In it, he mentions that although we have three major political groups in the United States (Republicans, Democrats and Independents), we also have three cultural one (idealogues, pragmatists, and the totally indifferent).
Commentary
At first I thought I liked the idea of cultural groupings as opposed to political ones because I don't really fit comfortably into a Republican, Democratic, or Independent box. I mean, I usually self-identify as Independent, but as Inigo Montoya would say, "I don't think that word means what you think it means."
"Independent" for me does not imply "centrist," but rather "left of Democratic." I often vote Democrat, but I'll be danged if I'll call myself one! And if I'm completely honest, I have to say I'm sometimes to the right of the average Democrat as well, especially when it comes to intellectual freedom.
On the other hand, I don't really belong exclusively to an idealistic, pragmatic or indifferent culture either. I'm generally pragmatic, but when it comes to certain bedrock principles (peace, integrity, equality, simplicity), I can be just as dogmatic as the next person. And there are some political issues I'm not interested in. Local elections in Shreveport often revolve around code enforcement. I try to care, but I really don't.
No, I think what attracts me to the cultural groupings described by Sullivan is not that they describe me better, but that they seem to allow for a lot more flexibility in our political dialogue. Maybe I'm being all too pragmatic, but doesn't it seem like things would go better if we could just acknowledge these different characteristics in each other?
Try this on for size: "Oh, that's an issue that's of deep personal concern to you and my treating it clinically is not helpful. Go ahead and tell me about your passion and I'll listen because I care about you as a person."
Or maybe: "I can see you're not as vested in this problem as I am, so I won't waste time for both of us trying to bring you over to my side."
Even: "No, I wouldn't dream of calling you a RINO because your interests are different from mine. That would be rude."
What did you see today?
I read Andrew Sullivan's article about the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear on The Atlantic's website today. In it, he mentions that although we have three major political groups in the United States (Republicans, Democrats and Independents), we also have three cultural one (idealogues, pragmatists, and the totally indifferent).
Commentary
At first I thought I liked the idea of cultural groupings as opposed to political ones because I don't really fit comfortably into a Republican, Democratic, or Independent box. I mean, I usually self-identify as Independent, but as Inigo Montoya would say, "I don't think that word means what you think it means."
"Independent" for me does not imply "centrist," but rather "left of Democratic." I often vote Democrat, but I'll be danged if I'll call myself one! And if I'm completely honest, I have to say I'm sometimes to the right of the average Democrat as well, especially when it comes to intellectual freedom.
On the other hand, I don't really belong exclusively to an idealistic, pragmatic or indifferent culture either. I'm generally pragmatic, but when it comes to certain bedrock principles (peace, integrity, equality, simplicity), I can be just as dogmatic as the next person. And there are some political issues I'm not interested in. Local elections in Shreveport often revolve around code enforcement. I try to care, but I really don't.
No, I think what attracts me to the cultural groupings described by Sullivan is not that they describe me better, but that they seem to allow for a lot more flexibility in our political dialogue. Maybe I'm being all too pragmatic, but doesn't it seem like things would go better if we could just acknowledge these different characteristics in each other?
Try this on for size: "Oh, that's an issue that's of deep personal concern to you and my treating it clinically is not helpful. Go ahead and tell me about your passion and I'll listen because I care about you as a person."
Or maybe: "I can see you're not as vested in this problem as I am, so I won't waste time for both of us trying to bring you over to my side."
Even: "No, I wouldn't dream of calling you a RINO because your interests are different from mine. That would be rude."
What did you see today?
7/02/2010
I saw a comment on social standing
Context
It is often the case that when I want to understand a problem better, I find a book on the topic. So now I'm in the middle of reading a book by Hilde Bruch called Conversations with Anorexics. This is a quote I read today: "Paula then went into much detail about the pain of growing up in a small town where she felt not recognized as belonging to a leading family."
Commentary
I grew up in one of the biggest cities in the world. And in a very small town. Let me explain: my family moved to Mexico City when I was eight years old, but because we're Americans most of our social interactions took place within the sizable-for-what-it-is, but still small, English-speaking community.
So my view of my place in the community during those years was different from what it would have been if I'd grown up in the country of my birth where nearly everyone spoke the same language I did. Here's an example: I went to the American School, an expensive, private, college-prep school, which my father's employer paid for as an incentive to accept a foreign assignment. While there, I socialized with the children of diplomats, high-level Mexican government officials (the college prep applied to both U.S. and Mexican institutions), missionaries, and others. These are the kind of people I would have never encountered at the public school a mile away from our family's home in Michigan.
The thing is, at the American School we didn't arrange ourselves according to the social strata our parents belonged to. This may be typical of kids thrown together everywhere, but we used kid standards (athletic prowess, physical beauty, what passes for sophistication when you're twelve, etc.) for status, not adult ones. I went out on a date with the son of the Mexican Secretary of Tourism one time. He was as low on the socially awkward totem pole as I was. On the other hand, there were girls in my social circle who used to belittle my ineptness all the time. It was only with time that I discovered two important realities:
1) My dad was their dad's boss.
2) I was going on to college. They were going back to rural Michigan to get married and have babies.
I am very grateful to my parents for the opportunity to grow up this way. I still feel a little out of place in my native culture (Why oh why don't you people kiss each other to say "Hello"?), but I think it gave me a good perspective on the malleability of social structure and an ability to be comfortable in my own skin under almost any circumstances. And I speak Spanish reasonably well.
¿ Que ha visto usted hoy?
It is often the case that when I want to understand a problem better, I find a book on the topic. So now I'm in the middle of reading a book by Hilde Bruch called Conversations with Anorexics. This is a quote I read today: "Paula then went into much detail about the pain of growing up in a small town where she felt not recognized as belonging to a leading family."
Commentary
I grew up in one of the biggest cities in the world. And in a very small town. Let me explain: my family moved to Mexico City when I was eight years old, but because we're Americans most of our social interactions took place within the sizable-for-what-it-is, but still small, English-speaking community.
So my view of my place in the community during those years was different from what it would have been if I'd grown up in the country of my birth where nearly everyone spoke the same language I did. Here's an example: I went to the American School, an expensive, private, college-prep school, which my father's employer paid for as an incentive to accept a foreign assignment. While there, I socialized with the children of diplomats, high-level Mexican government officials (the college prep applied to both U.S. and Mexican institutions), missionaries, and others. These are the kind of people I would have never encountered at the public school a mile away from our family's home in Michigan.
The thing is, at the American School we didn't arrange ourselves according to the social strata our parents belonged to. This may be typical of kids thrown together everywhere, but we used kid standards (athletic prowess, physical beauty, what passes for sophistication when you're twelve, etc.) for status, not adult ones. I went out on a date with the son of the Mexican Secretary of Tourism one time. He was as low on the socially awkward totem pole as I was. On the other hand, there were girls in my social circle who used to belittle my ineptness all the time. It was only with time that I discovered two important realities:
1) My dad was their dad's boss.
2) I was going on to college. They were going back to rural Michigan to get married and have babies.
I am very grateful to my parents for the opportunity to grow up this way. I still feel a little out of place in my native culture (Why oh why don't you people kiss each other to say "Hello"?), but I think it gave me a good perspective on the malleability of social structure and an ability to be comfortable in my own skin under almost any circumstances. And I speak Spanish reasonably well.
¿ Que ha visto usted hoy?
6/10/2009
I saw routing flags
Context
Because Shreve Memorial Library has 20 branches and uses a hub-and-spoke model to move materials around(similar to this one, but we try not to lose your luggage ;-)), we have pre-printed, color-coded routing flags that we stick in and sometimes on materials that say where they're going. The problem is, once the item arrives at its destination, the flag becomes temporarily useless. Nobody is trying to send things from the Main Library to the Main Library, after all. So each branch, when they've received a sizable number of these things with their name on them, bundles the flags up and sends them back to the Main Library hub. Our Interlibrary Loans Department is normally responsible for routing both the traveling material and the flags themselves.
I occasionally receive items (correspondence or pieces of hardware I need to look at) with Main Library flags attached to them. Since I receive so few I don't bother to give them to Interlibrary Loans; I just drop them off at the next branch I happen to visit. So I was looking at the three or four flags sitting on my desk awaiting redistribution today.
Commentary
I am not much of an environmentalist. I like to think this is not a character flaw on my part, but just a question of some other aspects of life taking higher priority. However, I do like the "reduce, reuse, recycle" mantra and try to apply it when I can. That's why I like the routing flags; they are single scraps of paper that can be reused over and over again.
So there's something that some of my coworkers do that drives me straight up a wall: they write my name and/or my floor on the flag, which renders it un-reusable. Oh sure, I'm going to be sent more mail at some point in the future, but no one's going to hold on to the routing flag with my name on it waiting for that eventuality. The floor designation's unnecessary anyway; it's Interlibrary Loans' job to know where everyone is in the Main Library. And if you want to attach my name, use a separate piece of paper; don't invalidate the routing flag! See, I told you I get up in arms about this.
So as I was looking at the unsullied, still-reusable flags on my desk, I was wondering why people don't just "do right" in this respect. It's something I frequently wonder about and I've come to the following conclusion: it's because they don't see the world the way I do. There is some quantity of people that don't look at an item that can easily be reused and say to themselves, "I should do everything I can to make that happen."
My first instinct in situations like this is to ponder what I can do to make people change. 45 years of life experience have actually taught me the answer: nothing. The good news is, recent religious exploration has convinced me that it's not only impossible to make everyone conform to my view of the world, it's not even desirable.
God is vast and vastly creative. No one person can perceive, appreciate and participate in all that He is doing. So our different ways of seeing the world are a gift we can offer to the Lord and to each other. For example, when I interact with a friend who thinks airline travel is immoral because of the ecological impact, I get to learn that just owning a Prius isn't enough to call myself an environmentalist, and she gets to see that people can hold other priorities in good faith, like wanting to build community through travel. Everybody gets to grow!
Share with me what you saw today!
Because Shreve Memorial Library has 20 branches and uses a hub-and-spoke model to move materials around(similar to this one, but we try not to lose your luggage ;-)), we have pre-printed, color-coded routing flags that we stick in and sometimes on materials that say where they're going. The problem is, once the item arrives at its destination, the flag becomes temporarily useless. Nobody is trying to send things from the Main Library to the Main Library, after all. So each branch, when they've received a sizable number of these things with their name on them, bundles the flags up and sends them back to the Main Library hub. Our Interlibrary Loans Department is normally responsible for routing both the traveling material and the flags themselves.
I occasionally receive items (correspondence or pieces of hardware I need to look at) with Main Library flags attached to them. Since I receive so few I don't bother to give them to Interlibrary Loans; I just drop them off at the next branch I happen to visit. So I was looking at the three or four flags sitting on my desk awaiting redistribution today.
Commentary
I am not much of an environmentalist. I like to think this is not a character flaw on my part, but just a question of some other aspects of life taking higher priority. However, I do like the "reduce, reuse, recycle" mantra and try to apply it when I can. That's why I like the routing flags; they are single scraps of paper that can be reused over and over again.
So there's something that some of my coworkers do that drives me straight up a wall: they write my name and/or my floor on the flag, which renders it un-reusable. Oh sure, I'm going to be sent more mail at some point in the future, but no one's going to hold on to the routing flag with my name on it waiting for that eventuality. The floor designation's unnecessary anyway; it's Interlibrary Loans' job to know where everyone is in the Main Library. And if you want to attach my name, use a separate piece of paper; don't invalidate the routing flag! See, I told you I get up in arms about this.
So as I was looking at the unsullied, still-reusable flags on my desk, I was wondering why people don't just "do right" in this respect. It's something I frequently wonder about and I've come to the following conclusion: it's because they don't see the world the way I do. There is some quantity of people that don't look at an item that can easily be reused and say to themselves, "I should do everything I can to make that happen."
My first instinct in situations like this is to ponder what I can do to make people change. 45 years of life experience have actually taught me the answer: nothing. The good news is, recent religious exploration has convinced me that it's not only impossible to make everyone conform to my view of the world, it's not even desirable.
God is vast and vastly creative. No one person can perceive, appreciate and participate in all that He is doing. So our different ways of seeing the world are a gift we can offer to the Lord and to each other. For example, when I interact with a friend who thinks airline travel is immoral because of the ecological impact, I get to learn that just owning a Prius isn't enough to call myself an environmentalist, and she gets to see that people can hold other priorities in good faith, like wanting to build community through travel. Everybody gets to grow!
Share with me what you saw today!
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