...Shut up and think...
...it doesn't sound difficult.
I need to use my ....s, not as a way to rush from one thought to another (which is how I use them), but rather to take time to pause and think and make sure I am saying and/or doing what it is I mean to say and/or do. I really need to work on both sides...thinking before I speak, and thinking (and double checking) before I act.
I was known throughout my high school career for not thinking before I spoke. When my mouth was in gear, chances were my brain wasn't. With all the thinking and over analyzing my brain does, you think it would benefit me to let my brain do that before I open my mouth. But alas, I like to let my mouth just wander (lol...)
The worst case of brain-not-in-gear almost got me expelled in, what I refer to as, my Grade 14 year. I went back to school after graduation because I didn't know what I wanted to do and I figured extending my education, while it was free, was a better idea than sitting on my butt and wasting a year. Anyways...I digress...
So, I was in my Grade 14 year of my high school career. I was living in the 'burbs, but going to school in the city. Everyone knew me very well, teachers and students alike. It was a great year. I took all the classes that I wanted and, during the semester in question, I had my afternoons off. I would stick around during lunch hour for a bit and then take off for the afternoon. I wore a really beat up, black leather jacket (very motorcycle, straight cut). I loved it to pieces...even though I didn't really fit the imagine (which is probably why I loved it).
Also to note, the high school I went to had a pretty bad reputation in the city, a bit of an inner city school (yes it's Ottawa, so it's not -that- bad...but whatever). We had a police officer who was assigned to our school and would patrol regularly. I had never spoken to him but knew who he was.
Having been raised in the suburbs, I had grown up with a positive feeling towards police officers (I did go through a "pigs" phase, but I was past that now). We had been taught in elementary school (in the 'burbs) that the police officer was our ‘friend’, someone to be trusted. When I was in my early teens a police officer had stopped to talk with a group of us, just to chat...find out what the kids were up to these days. It had been a great experience and had gotten me out of my I-hate-cops phase pretty quickly.
One lunch hour I was sitting in the hallway with a bunch of my friends, wearing my leather jacket, as I was just about to leave for the day. Just then the principal, one of the vice-principals and our local police officer walked by. The officer was in full gear. He even had a bulletproof vest on with a big blue sticker across the front that said police. I was in a great mood that day and was having a grand old time. So when I noticed these three walking by, I thought I would share my happiness with them (actually, I have no idea what I was thinking...because this is where my brain stopped communicating with my mouth).
"Hey...are you going to a costume party?" I jokingly asked the cop, all smug in my look-how-cool-I-am motorcycle leather jacket.
The three of them just looked at me. I had never been introduced to the officer, but hey...-everybody- knew me right?
"So, what are you going as?" I asked sarcastically, thinking I was just the funniest thing in the world. My supposed posse behind me giving me confidence with their laughter.
"Why does it say Police in big letters across your chest? Is that, for people who don't know what your costume is?" I'm on a roll now, "Because they might have missed the gun and the bullet proof vest, right?"
And I'm done, I am so proud of myself. I made some funny jokes, about someone who I consider a friend and my other friends have appreciated the little performance. The party of three continue on their way without a single word to me. Then, thinking “my job here is done”, it's time for me to hit the road, thinking nothing further about what has just occurred. (because I wasn’t thinking at all).
The next morning my first period teacher, Mr. R., pulls me aside, and asks me to join him in the hallway. He seems very serious. I really liked Mr. R., thought he was just great. He looks at me very seriously and says to me very quietly… “S, what did you do yesterday?”. I am completely taken aback. Ack! What -did- I do yesterday. There is nothing worse than finding out you’ve done something wrong but having -no- idea what that thing is. I’m standing there…wracking my brain…What…? what did I do…? what? I look back at him blankly. “S…think hard…what did you do?” I was practically in tears. Shoot…what did I do wrong.
I go back into the classroom, very concerned. Wondering what happened. Class starts and about 10 minutes later the inter-classroom phone rings. Mr. R. goes over to the phone and listens, hangs up and says “S, could you please go to the principals office.” I’m freaked now…WHAT DID I DO??? He looks at me very seriously while the class does the infamous….Oooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh! Whatever.
When I finally get into the principals office I am more curious than anything, still trying to figure out what I did. I really have no clue. The principal proceeds to tell me that due to my actions the day before, the school was considering expelling me. I’m stunned. He explains that all of my teachers (including ones from previous years), met for a meeting this morning, before school, to discuss me. He said he doesn’t know me that well, but it’s a good sign because he’s always only heard good things about me. However, after my behaviour to the police officer yesterday in the hallway, he didn’t know what to think. It still hasn’t clicked for me. I remember the conversation. What was wrong with it.
The explanation I received was that had I verbally attacked the officer in the street like that he would have arrested me for harassment. He didn’t know who I was, I looked questionable, and had a group of other students backing me. The whole situation had come off very harsh and offensive to him. At this point in the explanation I’m in tears. I explain that this had not been my intention, that I had felt I was just joking with the officer. He says to avoid a suspension that I must write a formal apology to the officer.
That’s the long of it…I wrote the apology and later spoke to the officer in person, didn’t get expelled or suspended. However, what really stuck with me was a comment that one of the teacher’s, in the morning S Conference, had said. I had been told about it later than week. They had been sitting around trying to figure out why I had done and said what I did, worried that I was -actually- becoming a bad kid. Because as much as a pain in the butt as I could be, I never really meant any harm. My favourite teacher, Mr. R got their attention and said,
“This -is- S we’re talking about right? The girl we all know, who doesn’t think before she speaks?”
Well, I seem to have started slipping back into the high school student I once was. I have come a long way over the years, slowly overcoming this foot-in-mouth disease that I suffered from quite severely. So I have to go back and re-teach myself how to think.
The other side of this problem is the attention to detail that I don’t always take. In some areas I am completely anal retentive and am very careful, but in others it’s obvious my mind was elsewhere (like typing this blog ;)) while I was trying to do something else. I need to make sure to read every word, take in every piece of information and retain all of it as well. Before moving forward on something I need to go back and double check what I have done.
Ex: This morning I received an email from one of my brokers. He had received a request from one of his clients. I automatically went to process this request but found I couldn’t because the account wasn’t set up properly. So instead of double checking anything, verifying any of the information, or even take a minute to think…I called the broker back and said so-and-so’s account wasn’t set up right…and he said “Who?”…I quickly opened the email again and…wrong client…WAY wrong. If I had just taken a second to read the email and process the information instead of charging ahead I wouldn’t look so sloppy, which is how I think it came off.
I don’t have all that much work to do. I just have to breath more. And be more patient. And think, think, think…a little Winnie the Pooh help.
I need to use my ....s, not as a way to rush from one thought to another (which is how I use them), but rather to take time to pause and think and make sure I am saying and/or doing what it is I mean to say and/or do. I really need to work on both sides...thinking before I speak, and thinking (and double checking) before I act.
I was known throughout my high school career for not thinking before I spoke. When my mouth was in gear, chances were my brain wasn't. With all the thinking and over analyzing my brain does, you think it would benefit me to let my brain do that before I open my mouth. But alas, I like to let my mouth just wander (lol...)
The worst case of brain-not-in-gear almost got me expelled in, what I refer to as, my Grade 14 year. I went back to school after graduation because I didn't know what I wanted to do and I figured extending my education, while it was free, was a better idea than sitting on my butt and wasting a year. Anyways...I digress...
So, I was in my Grade 14 year of my high school career. I was living in the 'burbs, but going to school in the city. Everyone knew me very well, teachers and students alike. It was a great year. I took all the classes that I wanted and, during the semester in question, I had my afternoons off. I would stick around during lunch hour for a bit and then take off for the afternoon. I wore a really beat up, black leather jacket (very motorcycle, straight cut). I loved it to pieces...even though I didn't really fit the imagine (which is probably why I loved it).
Also to note, the high school I went to had a pretty bad reputation in the city, a bit of an inner city school (yes it's Ottawa, so it's not -that- bad...but whatever). We had a police officer who was assigned to our school and would patrol regularly. I had never spoken to him but knew who he was.
Having been raised in the suburbs, I had grown up with a positive feeling towards police officers (I did go through a "pigs" phase, but I was past that now). We had been taught in elementary school (in the 'burbs) that the police officer was our ‘friend’, someone to be trusted. When I was in my early teens a police officer had stopped to talk with a group of us, just to chat...find out what the kids were up to these days. It had been a great experience and had gotten me out of my I-hate-cops phase pretty quickly.
One lunch hour I was sitting in the hallway with a bunch of my friends, wearing my leather jacket, as I was just about to leave for the day. Just then the principal, one of the vice-principals and our local police officer walked by. The officer was in full gear. He even had a bulletproof vest on with a big blue sticker across the front that said police. I was in a great mood that day and was having a grand old time. So when I noticed these three walking by, I thought I would share my happiness with them (actually, I have no idea what I was thinking...because this is where my brain stopped communicating with my mouth).
"Hey...are you going to a costume party?" I jokingly asked the cop, all smug in my look-how-cool-I-am motorcycle leather jacket.
The three of them just looked at me. I had never been introduced to the officer, but hey...-everybody- knew me right?
"So, what are you going as?" I asked sarcastically, thinking I was just the funniest thing in the world. My supposed posse behind me giving me confidence with their laughter.
"Why does it say Police in big letters across your chest? Is that, for people who don't know what your costume is?" I'm on a roll now, "Because they might have missed the gun and the bullet proof vest, right?"
And I'm done, I am so proud of myself. I made some funny jokes, about someone who I consider a friend and my other friends have appreciated the little performance. The party of three continue on their way without a single word to me. Then, thinking “my job here is done”, it's time for me to hit the road, thinking nothing further about what has just occurred. (because I wasn’t thinking at all).
The next morning my first period teacher, Mr. R., pulls me aside, and asks me to join him in the hallway. He seems very serious. I really liked Mr. R., thought he was just great. He looks at me very seriously and says to me very quietly… “S, what did you do yesterday?”. I am completely taken aback. Ack! What -did- I do yesterday. There is nothing worse than finding out you’ve done something wrong but having -no- idea what that thing is. I’m standing there…wracking my brain…What…? what did I do…? what? I look back at him blankly. “S…think hard…what did you do?” I was practically in tears. Shoot…what did I do wrong.
I go back into the classroom, very concerned. Wondering what happened. Class starts and about 10 minutes later the inter-classroom phone rings. Mr. R. goes over to the phone and listens, hangs up and says “S, could you please go to the principals office.” I’m freaked now…WHAT DID I DO??? He looks at me very seriously while the class does the infamous….Oooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh! Whatever.
When I finally get into the principals office I am more curious than anything, still trying to figure out what I did. I really have no clue. The principal proceeds to tell me that due to my actions the day before, the school was considering expelling me. I’m stunned. He explains that all of my teachers (including ones from previous years), met for a meeting this morning, before school, to discuss me. He said he doesn’t know me that well, but it’s a good sign because he’s always only heard good things about me. However, after my behaviour to the police officer yesterday in the hallway, he didn’t know what to think. It still hasn’t clicked for me. I remember the conversation. What was wrong with it.
The explanation I received was that had I verbally attacked the officer in the street like that he would have arrested me for harassment. He didn’t know who I was, I looked questionable, and had a group of other students backing me. The whole situation had come off very harsh and offensive to him. At this point in the explanation I’m in tears. I explain that this had not been my intention, that I had felt I was just joking with the officer. He says to avoid a suspension that I must write a formal apology to the officer.
That’s the long of it…I wrote the apology and later spoke to the officer in person, didn’t get expelled or suspended. However, what really stuck with me was a comment that one of the teacher’s, in the morning S Conference, had said. I had been told about it later than week. They had been sitting around trying to figure out why I had done and said what I did, worried that I was -actually- becoming a bad kid. Because as much as a pain in the butt as I could be, I never really meant any harm. My favourite teacher, Mr. R got their attention and said,
“This -is- S we’re talking about right? The girl we all know, who doesn’t think before she speaks?”
Well, I seem to have started slipping back into the high school student I once was. I have come a long way over the years, slowly overcoming this foot-in-mouth disease that I suffered from quite severely. So I have to go back and re-teach myself how to think.
The other side of this problem is the attention to detail that I don’t always take. In some areas I am completely anal retentive and am very careful, but in others it’s obvious my mind was elsewhere (like typing this blog ;)) while I was trying to do something else. I need to make sure to read every word, take in every piece of information and retain all of it as well. Before moving forward on something I need to go back and double check what I have done.
Ex: This morning I received an email from one of my brokers. He had received a request from one of his clients. I automatically went to process this request but found I couldn’t because the account wasn’t set up properly. So instead of double checking anything, verifying any of the information, or even take a minute to think…I called the broker back and said so-and-so’s account wasn’t set up right…and he said “Who?”…I quickly opened the email again and…wrong client…WAY wrong. If I had just taken a second to read the email and process the information instead of charging ahead I wouldn’t look so sloppy, which is how I think it came off.
I don’t have all that much work to do. I just have to breath more. And be more patient. And think, think, think…a little Winnie the Pooh help.
posted by PrincessDoubt @ 4:31 p.m.
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