Johnney Zhang | Collective Conversations
Story Teller
Image source: Sharon Cauthen
Story Teller
By: Sharon Cauthen
Recently, I was clearing out a box of old photos and papers when I came across two pages of childish script. I knew instantly what it was, and I felt transported to a moment in time – the emotions of the day flooding back in an instant. The truth is, I’ve never forgotten what happened and how it made me feel. It was a simple story that went something like this…
When I was in fourth grade, our teacher assigned a creative writing assignment. I loved writing and spent much of my no-frills home life tuned in to my internal fanciful thinking or reading anything I could get my hands on. For the assignment, I wrote a story called Lifecycle describing in youthful detail, the beginning, middle, and the predetermined end. There was a special gotcha at the end of the story, of which I was particularly proud. I turned in my paper, eager for a good grade and some recognition from a teacher who never quite seemed to like me very much.
The paper was returned to me with a notation in bright red across the top – “Was this plagiarized?” and a score of F! The shock of embarrassment ran through my body as my face flamed red and my heart pounded loudly enough to drown out the sound of anything but its beat in my ears. Students sitting in nearby desks could see the terrible grade and the angry red writing scrawled on my paper. Having my clever idea and hard work dismissed as something I wasn’t capable of stung, and I felt tears threatening to spill over.
I had to take a note home to my parents who were none too pleased. They were the kind of parents who always stood behind the teacher whenever there was an issue, but on this one (and one other story I’ll save for another day), they stood up for me. You see, I had written the story at home, sitting at the kitchen table and I read it out loud to my family because I felt so giddy with the preciousness of my story idea and its surprise ending. There were a thousand things they would have believed the teacher about – but my ability to craft this story wasn’t one of them. Their faith in my storytelling skills gave me the runway and confidence to continue writing to this day.
I learned a lesson that day that superseded one young girl’s paper. It serves me still today.
Anyone in a position of authority can leave a scar with one ill-conceived or short-tempered remark, the pain of which may never be forgotten. Building up the confidence of others and recognizing their talents pays back and forwards.
Lift people up whenever you can. A simple acknowledgment that you see them and appreciate their contributions is important but taking the time to learn about their interests and passion projects beyond their daily job duties is heady stuff. It’s magical. The people who fill our teams are whole multifaceted humans who possess untapped potential.
One final thought. Believe people until there is a real reason not to. It’s been almost half a century and I still remember my creative writing assignment, and I vividly recall the feeling of knowing how it felt to be denied – and who believed in me.
Jessica Fern-Kirkland | Collective Conversations
TANGLED
TANGLED by Sharon Cauthen
I woke up with a cold, a stuffy head, and a nose that had somehow forgotten how to do its essential job – air in/ air out. My car is in the shop, leaving me homebound today. I lost my glasses and frantically looked from room to room before finding them on the side table where they definitely do not belong. I needed to prep for a video meeting beginning in fifteen minutes when the dog started doing the potty dance. I quickly took him for a walk – but he needed more than a quick walk. He had business to do (have you ever successfully rushed a dog doing its business?). I required coffee to help me defy the cold medication and remain alert for the meeting, but the water reservoir was low, and I felt resentful that my spouse didn’t refill it.
Trying not to spill the hot coffee, I raced (walked briskly) to my desk for the meeting. I saw that most annoying message on my screen – the multi-factor authenticator blockade. Ugh. Text was the fastest way to get the code that obstructed my way. Fine. But my phone was playing a Daily Stoic meditation which I dumped unceremoniously on behalf of the code. I wasn’t feeling very stoic anyway.
Finally, I have access, glasses, and coffee, and I sit up in my chair with seconds to spare. Once I jumped through the hoops and could access my system, I saw a message from earlier that morning. “I’m sorry, I need to reschedule our meeting. I have an unavoidable conflict disrupting my calendar. Very frustrating.”
Frustrating indeed.
A few deep breaths and some introspection later found me reframing my morning. The cold is annoying but not debilitating. It will pass. I have a car and the funds to pay for its maintenance. I found my glasses and was reminded that no one puts them anywhere except me. I am grateful to have a furry companion and his need for regular walks is not a surprise. Moving his walk even fifteen minutes earlier would have made for a more enjoyable experience for us both. I have a nice coffee maker and access to clean filtered water for it. The Daily Stoic will wait for me. Patiently, because the Stoics are like that.
Two or three last thoughts.
My morning was irritating but not traumatic. There is a difference. Trauma should not be spackled over with platitudes. It deserves light and air for healing. This was not that. This was a series of slightly annoying events.
The meeting cancellation message was sent in plenty of time, but my messy morning disrupted its receipt. Just a wee bit more organization would have prevented the frantic race – after which I planned to look into the camera as though I had it all together all along. (I see my people nodding their heads at this.)
Finally, multi-factor authentication messages are ALWAYS annoying. I stand my ground on this one.