Abe was fiercely independent, even at age 85, but after a mild stroke his son insisted he move in with him. Abe missed going to the park near his old apartment, and one Saturday he set out to find it.
He became disoriented and asked a young boy where it was. The boy, Timmy, said he’d like to take Abe there but didn’t have time because he was looking for God. Timmy said he needed to talk to him about why his parents were getting a divorce.
“Maybe God is in the park,” said the old man. “I’d like to talk to him, too, about why he’s made me useless.” And they set off together to find God.
At the park Timmy began to cry about the divorce, and Abe lovingly held his face in both hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “Timmy, I don’t know why bad things happen, but I know it’s not because of you. I know you’re a good boy and your parents love you and you’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Timmy gave Abe a big hug and said, “I’m so glad I met you. Thanks, I can go now.”
Across the street, Timmy’s mother saw them hug and approached her son worriedly. “Who was that old man?”
“I think he’s God.”
“Did he say that?” she demanded.
“No, but when he held me and told me I’m going to be okay, I felt better. Only God can do that.”
When Abe got home, his son asked in a scolding voice, “Where were you?”
“I was in the park with God,” Abe said.
“Really? What makes you think you were with God?”
“Because he sent me a boy who needed me. When the boy hugged me, I felt God telling me I wasn’t useless.”
This is Dimeji reminding you that character counts
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Disease of Low Expectations
The serious damage done to our economy, social institutions, and personal relationships by widespread cheating and dishonesty is bad enough. But widespread acceptance of such behavior as inevitable threatens to make our future a lot worse. In effect, our culture is being infected by a disease: the disease of low expectations.
This disorder is manifested by the corrosive assumption that human nature can’t be expected to withstand pressure or temptation. In other words, when there’s a conflict between self-interest and moral principles, self-interest – in fact, short-term self-interest – will generally prevail.
Whenever a politician lies to get elected, a student cheats to get into college, or an executive commits fraud to save a job or earn a bonus, we blame the system rather than the individual. Thus, under the influence of the disease of low expectations, an increasing army of apologists argue that both the carrot and the stick – previously thought of as valid motivating techniques – should be condemned and eliminated as corrupting influences that create irresistible pressures to cheat.
A school superintendent in Iowa once told me, “Cheating isn’t the problem; it’s the way we test.” We really can’t expect students not to cheat, he implied, especially when the stakes are so high.
I wonder whether he would be as comfortable with a similar explanation of corporate scandals: “Fraudulent accounting isn’t the problem; it’s the way we compensate executives.”
Don’t buy into this dreadfully pessimistic and perverted perspective about human nature. Cheating is wrong and harmful. Integrity is real and possible. It just takes character.
This is Dimeji reminding you that character counts
This disorder is manifested by the corrosive assumption that human nature can’t be expected to withstand pressure or temptation. In other words, when there’s a conflict between self-interest and moral principles, self-interest – in fact, short-term self-interest – will generally prevail.
Whenever a politician lies to get elected, a student cheats to get into college, or an executive commits fraud to save a job or earn a bonus, we blame the system rather than the individual. Thus, under the influence of the disease of low expectations, an increasing army of apologists argue that both the carrot and the stick – previously thought of as valid motivating techniques – should be condemned and eliminated as corrupting influences that create irresistible pressures to cheat.
A school superintendent in Iowa once told me, “Cheating isn’t the problem; it’s the way we test.” We really can’t expect students not to cheat, he implied, especially when the stakes are so high.
I wonder whether he would be as comfortable with a similar explanation of corporate scandals: “Fraudulent accounting isn’t the problem; it’s the way we compensate executives.”
Don’t buy into this dreadfully pessimistic and perverted perspective about human nature. Cheating is wrong and harmful. Integrity is real and possible. It just takes character.
This is Dimeji reminding you that character counts
Making and Expressing Moral Judgments
Almost every week someone indignantly attacks my integrity because I offended them with a real or perceived opinion they didn’t like. The underlying assumption is that stating an opinion on any controversial matter violates the sacred duty of neutrality.
First, I’m a teacher and a commentator, not a judge or journalist. Although I strive mightily to be objective, I don’t feel obligated to be neutral. Objectivity implies impartiality, detachment, and independence in evaluating evidence; it doesn’t preclude expressing judgment.
When I think my opinion might matter, I’ve criticized politicians of both parties; condemned shady business practices, racial prejudice, torture, and the denial of due process; and commended admirable words, actions, and moving events irrespective of political implications.
When I was young, I thought it was wrong to be judgmental, regardless of the issue. Later, I came across an observation by philosopher/novelist Ayn Rand who argued that nonjudgmentalness is an abdication of moral responsibility, an exchange of moral blank checks – I won’t judge you if you won’t judge me. Ultimately, I realized I couldn’t be a good father or effective teacher unless I made moral judgments. Now, making and encouraging you to make moral judgments is part of what I do.
But while there’s a responsibility to make moral judgments for ourselves, we need to be careful in deciding whether and when to express them.
For example, my primary goal is to prod you to deeper thinking; it’s not to persuade you to my way of thinking. I’d rather build bridges than walls. Thus, I usually keep my personal convictions to myself.
Before you express a moral judgment, therefore, ask yourself what you hope to accomplish and what you’re likely to accomplish.
My opinion: Whether we’re talking politics or instructing our kids, we should use restraint in expressing moral judgments. And we should do so in a way that promotes respect, reflection, and discourse rather than resentment, resistance, and disagreement. That’s not so easy.
This is Dimeji reminding you that character counts.
First, I’m a teacher and a commentator, not a judge or journalist. Although I strive mightily to be objective, I don’t feel obligated to be neutral. Objectivity implies impartiality, detachment, and independence in evaluating evidence; it doesn’t preclude expressing judgment.
When I think my opinion might matter, I’ve criticized politicians of both parties; condemned shady business practices, racial prejudice, torture, and the denial of due process; and commended admirable words, actions, and moving events irrespective of political implications.
When I was young, I thought it was wrong to be judgmental, regardless of the issue. Later, I came across an observation by philosopher/novelist Ayn Rand who argued that nonjudgmentalness is an abdication of moral responsibility, an exchange of moral blank checks – I won’t judge you if you won’t judge me. Ultimately, I realized I couldn’t be a good father or effective teacher unless I made moral judgments. Now, making and encouraging you to make moral judgments is part of what I do.
But while there’s a responsibility to make moral judgments for ourselves, we need to be careful in deciding whether and when to express them.
For example, my primary goal is to prod you to deeper thinking; it’s not to persuade you to my way of thinking. I’d rather build bridges than walls. Thus, I usually keep my personal convictions to myself.
Before you express a moral judgment, therefore, ask yourself what you hope to accomplish and what you’re likely to accomplish.
My opinion: Whether we’re talking politics or instructing our kids, we should use restraint in expressing moral judgments. And we should do so in a way that promotes respect, reflection, and discourse rather than resentment, resistance, and disagreement. That’s not so easy.
This is Dimeji reminding you that character counts.
Teaching Our Children to Make Good Decisions.
Two young men in Florida removed a stop sign and brought it back to their fraternity house as a trophy. Shortly afterward, a fatal accident occurred at the sign-less intersection. The students were convicted of manslaughter.
In Tennessee, two teenagers were in a high-rise building. One dared the other to slide down a trash chute. His friend did so – right into a trash compactor. The one who egged him into the fatal accident was traumatized, possibly for life.
Four college fraternity students in California were charged with manslaughter when a pledge they were hazing died after they forced him to drink gallons of water.
What makes these stories all the more tragic is that we’re not talking about bad kids. We’re talking about fundamentally decent ones who made really bad choices.
The recurring nightmare of caring parents is that, during the course of growing up, their children will seriously damage themselves or others by an unwise decision. An endless array of bad consequences can result from reckless conduct to impress friends, thrill-seeking, or giving in to the temptation of drugs, alcohol, or sex. When kids get involved with irresponsible, manipulative, cruel, selfish, or simply stupid people who call themselves friends, there’s no telling what dumb things they can do.
All youngsters make foolish mistakes, as we did. Still, we can equip them with reasoning tools that can help them see and avoid really big, bad choices.
We can improve their decision-making skills by talking to them often about the importance of acting rationally, even when everyone around them seems overtaken by impulse. We can tell them stories to help them evaluate situations and anticipate potential consequences.
This is Dimeji reminding you that character counts
In Tennessee, two teenagers were in a high-rise building. One dared the other to slide down a trash chute. His friend did so – right into a trash compactor. The one who egged him into the fatal accident was traumatized, possibly for life.
Four college fraternity students in California were charged with manslaughter when a pledge they were hazing died after they forced him to drink gallons of water.
What makes these stories all the more tragic is that we’re not talking about bad kids. We’re talking about fundamentally decent ones who made really bad choices.
The recurring nightmare of caring parents is that, during the course of growing up, their children will seriously damage themselves or others by an unwise decision. An endless array of bad consequences can result from reckless conduct to impress friends, thrill-seeking, or giving in to the temptation of drugs, alcohol, or sex. When kids get involved with irresponsible, manipulative, cruel, selfish, or simply stupid people who call themselves friends, there’s no telling what dumb things they can do.
All youngsters make foolish mistakes, as we did. Still, we can equip them with reasoning tools that can help them see and avoid really big, bad choices.
We can improve their decision-making skills by talking to them often about the importance of acting rationally, even when everyone around them seems overtaken by impulse. We can tell them stories to help them evaluate situations and anticipate potential consequences.
This is Dimeji reminding you that character counts
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
