Whoops. I just bored you with the details of my cable snafu.
End of story: After regurgitating my cable sob story a solid dozen times and the passing of a solid dozen months (SIKE: two), the original problem got fixed.
This phenomenon crosses over into the way we educate today... teacher time with kids split up into tiny little slivers. One year at a time. And, in upper grades, 55 minutes or less each day per year at a time. I was a teacher. I'd like to think I developed trusting relationships and had a pulse on my students. But, I admit, I lost track of most once they left me. I was not there beyond my one year to catch a trend change, a behavior shift, a broad strokes pattern forming. And the next year's teacher doesn't have the context of the year before and the same problem with the year after... one year sometimes isn't enough. Despite all the conscientious colleague collaboration and communication that I know goes on beyond the scenes (and beyond the job description), teachers are limited by the model.
Laura Ingles and Anne of Green Gables, in their one room school houses, I bet got the full experience. Not a thing could slip through the cracks of their teachers' tight knit oversight and long-range-sight. Serving at max the pupils that could fit in one small room at a time and for multiple years, a teacher of that prairie school makes each student her problem, her person.
If there are any internet technicians, customer service reps, doctors, or teachers who haven't kissed this blog entry goodbye already, I PROMISE what follows has been worth the drudgery. I'm gonna perk up my thus-far Debbie-downer one-sidedness. Oh, yes. Perk. Up. I. will.
GUESS WHAT? My fantasies about the glamor of the-good-ole-days are wrought with all kinds of trouble. (P.S. Ignoring the trouble is what makes them fantasies. A girl is entitled.).
I don't want my kids attending a prairie school, without the resources for a kick-ass International Baccalaureate program or foreign language offerings or a Chess Club, Theater Club, or - heck -My Little Pony Club, and where they don't get exposed to a rainbow of diversified teaching styles and mentorship. I don't want a one-stop-shop, small-town doctor working on something as unusual and neurologically complicated as a tic disorder. Hands off, generalist! And, as long as it took to get shuffled from one Xfinity rep to another, I cannot imagine the additional inconvenience that would stem from bagillions of teensy mom-and-pops cable providers, all operating on their conflicting and limited homegrown grids.
Our population has grown. Our knowledge of the human body and what can go wrong with it has grown. Our opportunities have grown. And our businesses and their impact have grown.
I don't want to go backwards.
I just want to go forward with more intentionality.
Because I'm me, I've brewed up a plethora of ways to "go forward with more intentionality" and absolutely all of them are altruistically motivated and absolutely none of them make sense economically. Business majors would roll their eyes at my scheming.
How can we make stubborn, relentless, loyal, holistic, big picture, follow-through caring profitable?
How can we make stubborn, relentless, loyal, holistic, big picture, follow-through caring in everyone's job description?
Thank my stars, visionaries with far bigger brains than mine in for-profit companies and nonprofit organizations around our globe who look to answer those two questions are popping out of the altruistic woodwork. I do my happy dance. Thanks, Millenials. Your cause-caring is paying off.
I'd say let's let this rub off - in more ways than it already has - on how we do business systematically, too. With medicine. With education. Let's blend a little of the old with the new we've got now. Sounds like a yummy stew of possibility.
Make new friends. Keep the old. There's something to be learned from both.