dare to dream

Women, Technology and Webkinz

Tom Peters, management guru, has written, “there is little disagreement about what businesses must become: less hierarchical, more flexible and team-oriented, faster and more fluid.... One group of people has an enormous advantage in realizing this necessary new vision: women.”

I agree with Tom Peters, but there is a rub.

During the play that our family was in, when there was downtime, I found myself observing how the children entertained themselves.

Two vignettes, in particular, come to mind:

One of my 6-year old daughter Miranda playing with her Gameboy (remember she has a 10-year old brother whom she adores and emulates), surrounded by several boys, either playing with, or tutoring her.

The other vignette is a group of girls aged 6-10 who, having no interest in playing Gameboy, had invited Miranda to set up a make-believe home/beauty salon.

Which is why there's a rub to Peters' argument.

While it is true that businesses, and even the world, need women's collaborative expertise, Tom Peters seems to be making an a priori assumption -- that girls and women are technologically savvy.

Based on the recent NY Times article, Computer Science Takes Steps to Bring Women to the Fold, and my own personal experience, we aren't, nor do we necessarily want to be.

I think I know why.

Technology, in the broadest, most generic sense, is often about gadgetry, the gee-whiz factor, an end, in itself, rather than a means to an end: how can I harness this technology to get done what is important to me, which is connect with others. Remember Psyche's journey: she went on her hero's journey -- of figuring out the world -- because of her relationships.

But when technology works on behalf of relationships, we become fascinated, even enamored.

Take blogs for example.

And Mac stores. These are not stores just about gadgetry, they are about getting jobs done that are important to us.

And Webkinz -- those unremarkable stuffed animals that our daughters can love and cuddle with in the real world. AND for whom they must also care for in the virtual world.

Sure, it's a craze.

But if it it gives our daughters the tools they need to dare - and do - their dreams, I'm just a bit crazy about Webkinz myself.

Have you found yourself wanting to make something happen, whether for scrapbooking, a community project, or starting a small business, but you just didn't have the technological expertise? And so you had to oursource, or worse yet, you just didn't do it?

What if you did have the expertise? How much better would you troubleshoot?

Any other ideas about jobs our daughters can do, and will want to do, using technology?

Mourning Virginia Tech

I thought it was just the weather; we'd had four straight days of rain. But when I read Kat Duffey's poem late that evening, I realized I was also mourning the loss of life in Virginia. When we suffer trauma or loss, in order to heal, we need to share our story, or bear witness, of that loss. My profound thanks to Kat for writing and sharing her poem "the moment". For in doing so, she has given voice to our own stories of loss. And as we mourn together, we too shall be comforted.

what is this part of us that yearns to “mourn with those that mourn?” that aches to touch the pain of so many so far away whom we do not know? it stretches forth from us – a silken thread of connection weaving a cloth of sympathy to help absorb the tears of those who were closer than we. we stand back – we dry our empathy – we draw a sigh of relief… “there but for the grace…” we say – feeling safe. feeling spared. for the moment.

The hero's journey and accountability

Just last week, my 10 year-old son David participated in his school's science fair.

As I listened to him explain his "how salt affects water freezing" findings to the mother of one of his classmates, I had one of those moments that parents get every once in awhile, which was: "My child really IS going to know things and do things and be things that will amaze me."

Imagine my surprise the next day when I learned that David had only gotten a 79 on his project.

He was surprised too.

So surprised, and angry, and hurt, that he had a really bad day. It didn't matter that he would have gotten a 92 had he included a bibliography, and finished various intermediate assignments on time; the headline number was 79.

David was so devastated that my husband and I had some decisions to make.

Validating his feelings (angry, sad, frustrated) was a no-brainer. But beyond that, what would the party line be? Were we going to say the teachers hadn't been fair because the strengths of the report mitigated the weaknesses? And what of going to school the next day? He wanted to stay home. Should we let him?

Or did we simply need to say -- we know you're sad, we love you, we know it's hard, but "Johnson's don't give up"?

As we lived through what felt like a pivotal twenty-four hours in our son's life, or at least in our lives as parents, I wondered -- are the children in our society not dreaming and doing because, even as we tell them how capable they are, we don't require accountability?

Meaning, because we don't require accountability, aren't we really saying they aren't capable? Because if we really believed they could pick themselves up when they are down, we wouldn't swoop in. And as we bail our children out, when they are alone, rather than telling themselves -- I can succeed on my hero's journey, I have a contribution to make -- are they instead saying -- I can't succeed, because even my own parents don't think I can?

What's interesting about our family's science fair saga is that many would call me a pushover parent (my kids included), but that day, I wasn't. I was clear, absolutely, certainly clear that just as we couldn't take the accountability for his grade away from him, we couldn't let him stay home.

And so after pep talks from both my husband and I about getting back on the horse -- and a small little bribe of -- we can buy a donut on the way to school -- he willingly went. Happily, during the course of the day, his sadness, and discouragement melted way.

I will confess that I am not one for whom parenting comes easily; it seems to for some. And yet I somehow felt that in requiring accountability of our son when he so desperately wanted to be let off the hook, we had parented well.

And, perhaps more importantly, it seemed that our son may now be just a little bit more capable of succeeding on his hero's journey -- not because we said so -- but because he knows so.

Have you recently required accountability of your children or of those over whom you had responsibility? Was it difficult? Why? Why not?

Do you agree with my hypothesis, that we can't really affirm unless we also require accountability?

Do you find that it's easier with some of your charges than others to hold them accountable? (I do -- the more alike me my child is, the more difficult).

Shampoo, style, and systergy

Whenever I want to be really kind to myself (something I wish I would want more often), I splurge for a shampoo and style.

Some might call this extravagant.

Perhaps it is.

But given the sense of well-being I have when I leave the salon, it always feels to me like money well-spent.

Especially because, on my latest visit to the salon, it occurred to me that there's a lot that a shampoo and style can teach us about mentoring, and mentoring is integral to daring to dream.

Take the shampoo, for instance.

There aren't a lot of things more self-nurturing than relaxing back in a chair, knowing that capable hands are about to wash my hair, and gently massage my head.

When done well, doesn't mentoring have the same salutary effect? We are figuratively in the charge of competent, and loving hands. As mentors, we, ourselves, are these hands.

After the shampoo, comes a set or style.

When I finally open my eyes after a delightful catnap, I am always struck by my hairdresser's ability to transform what was unkempt, pulled-back-into-a-ponytail, more-often-than-not unwashed hair, into something rather fetching.

Again, there's a comparison to be made. Isn't it true that our most beloved mentors are those that see something magnificent in us that we can’t yet see, and are our see-er, until we can be our own?

And finally there's the quid pro quo, or the give for the get.

Before leaving the salon, I pay and leave a tip. I'm happy to do so because I feel and look great, and the hairdresser is, in turn, happy to be paid.

Though we usually think of a mentoring relationship as assymetrical -- the mentor gives, the mentee receives, I would argue that the most fruitful mentor-mentee relationships do involve some type of quid pro quo.

And it's not necessarily money.

For example, with the children in our lives, our relationship is by definition a mentor-mentee relationship, and then some. But my truth be told, it is much easier to really invest in my kids when for the give, there is some get.

Whether they are obeying me, being kind to one another, making me look good in front of other people (I know, I know -- we all try SO hard not to feel this way, but alas we do), or they are wrapping their arms around me -- and your kids are wrapping their arms around you -- and saying, "I love you mom." In short, if we need some type of get, even with our children, in a mentor-mentee relationship, we absolutely do.

Why is all of this so important?

Because we only really dream when we are together.

And what better metaphor for what we can achieve through systergy, than a salon, shampoo and a style?

When was the last time that you did something nurturing or kind for yourself?

Can you think of someone who sees something wonderful in you? What is it they see? Can you do that for someone else?

When you consider your most satisfying mentoring moments, what were you giving? What were you getting?

Why is it that when we isolate ourselves we don't dream, but when are are together, we do dream?

TLC's "What Not to Wear": A Hero's Journey

Whenever I happen to catch TLC's What Not to Wear, I find myself fascinated by the dramatic impact of a one-week style makeover (no weight loss, no plastic surgery, just a makeover) on my perception of the guest contributor (as the makeover--ee is referred to), and especially on the guest contributor's perception of herself.

I must confess, however, that as the now-stylish, newly confident guest contributor returns home and I get a glimpse of her interacting with her loved ones, I wonder....

...not at whether her transformation is sustainable (apparently, they typically are), but at how her loved ones, the swans in her pond (those that nominated her) will, over the long-term, respond to this ugly duckling-turned-swan.

Said another way, now that her family and friends have encouraged her to dare to dream, will these same relationships become the source of difficulty on her Road of Trials?

Definition: The Road of Trials, which comes after the hero has accepted the Call to Adventure (her friends nominating her, and her agreeing to the What Not to Wear makeover), is always a succession of experiences, which if we survive, amplifies our consciousness, allowing us to find new strength and power.

Do her supporters intentionally become detractors?

In most cases, I would say not.

But, the fact is, that every one of our relationships has a unique dynamic to it -- a symbiosis, or an equilibrium. When we dare to dream, and to act on our dreams, we upset that equilibirum. Just think back to how Andie's friends reacted to her in The Devil Wears Prada. (This is not to say, that former ugly ducklings never become preening Miss Swans, but for today, let's assume this is not the case.)

When our loved ones start to complain about how we've changed, do we discard them like trash out the car window as we race down our dare-to-dream highway?

I certainly hope not.

But because difficulties are -- well -- difficult, here are some thoughts on what we might do:

1. Pause for a moment (could be a very long moment), and be grateful to our friends and family who have encouraged us, who gave us a grand send-off as we began to dream.

2. Consider the possibility that, after so many weeks, months, even years, of a loved one being our hero of support, it is now time to return the favor.

3. Persevere. If we knew it was right then, and we still know it's right, we continue to do. We just know that it's hard. And then we observe: how we feel, how we respond, and what we are learning. As we face difficulties, we ready ourselves to achieve our dream.

Because we will.

If you are currently daring to dream, has it already happened that someone who was initially a supporter has now become a detractor? Does he/she even realize it?

Is it possible that you are exacerbating the situation when your loved one may simply need to be reassured?

What can you do to express gratitude, and possibly become a hero of support as your loved one now dares to dream?

NY Times article: For Girls, It's Be Yourself...

For those of you who didn't see Sara Rimer's "For Girls, It’s Be Yourself, and Be Perfect, Too", one of The New York Times most e-mailed and blogged about articles this week, here's the link.

Link: For Girls, It’s Be Yourself, and Be Perfect, Too - New York Times.

There are so many quotable quotes in this article. I'll highlight four:

1. To anyone who knows 17-year-old Esther Mobley, one of the best students (Esther is a standout in AP Latin, honors philosophy/literature, an actress, and president of her church youth group) at one of the best public high schools (Newton North High School just outside of Boston) in the country, it is absurd to think she doesn't measure up. But Esther herself is quick to set the record straight -- 'First of all, I'm a terrible athlete...'

WJ commentary:
Do you remember Anna Fels' article "Do women lack ambition?" Quoting Fels, "Women refuse to claim a central, purposeful place in their stories, eagerly shifting the credit elsewhere and shunning recognition." Esther's comment that she's a terrible athlete seems to be her way of sending the message that she really is feminine (e.g. by giving recognition away to anyone but herself) when society would say that her achievements and ambition suggest otherwise.

2. While it is now cool to be smart, it is not enough to be smart. You still have to be pretty, thin, and hot...effortlessly hot.

WJ Commentary:
The need to be hot seems to me like overcompensation. As if girls will be forgiven for being smart and capable if they are uber-feminine. In the case of Esther and her friends, they seem to be equating sexy with feminine.

3. I would rather be considered too assertive and less conventionally feminine than be totally passive and a bystander in my life....[Someone I] admire [is] Cristina (Sandra Oh) on Grey's Anatomy who stands up for herself and is gorgeous and wears cute lingerie.

WJ Commentary:
Can you imagine a man saying, "I'd rather be considered too kind and less conventionally masculine" and in the same breath tell you he really likes Arnold Schwarzenegger's tenderness in the film "True Lies?" I can't either.

4. In Esther's application to Smith, her father wrote a letter, explaining that when Esther was a baby, they had gone to his wife's 10th college reunion. He described the alumni parade as an 'angelic procession of women in white, decade by decade, at every stage in the course of human life...I still remember holding Esther as I watched those saints go marching by..and thinking I want Esther to be in that number'.

WJ Commentary:
To what extent are we as parents the keeper of our children's dreams? Do we want our children to measure up to some mistaken standard (perhaps a standard our parents/society set for us which we are now perpetuating)? And in so doing, are we inadvertently raising our daughters to believe that they are Leah rather than the Rachel they knew they were as young girls?

Enough of my pontificating, do you agree or disagree with my commentary? Why? Why not?

Any thoughts on how this article would have been different had the storyteller been a man rather than a woman? Would it have been written?

What have you watched or read or listened to lately, vis-a-vis women's hopes and dreams, that gave you pause?

When you have capably completed a task, and were inevitably congratulated, did you try to deflect attention away from you by saying "It was nothing," or maybe pointing out something that you aren't good at?

Any thoughts on how we can change the standards by which we measure our children, and perhaps more importantly, ourselves?

Finally, what can we do to dream our own dreams, and teach our children to dream theirs?