Giving Up the Goals
I’m organizing in my house. Because that gives me joy. (And it’s also in response to the call to simplify in The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, which I recommended in a previous post. And which I am recommending again. Highly.)
And part of that job has been going through crap in drawers.
One of the things I found is a copy from a page from a book I know I haven’t
read: To Hell with the Hustle by Jefferson Bethke. I suspect one of my
friends gave this to me, and it would have to have been quite a while ago to be
in the spot where it was in my drawer. Interestingly enough, reading it right now was
very timely.
Yes. YES.
I could have started my house re-organization endeavors with
the goal of getting rid of X number of items each week, or maybe of having a
place for everything that is convenient and always used, or . . . But really,
I went into this task with the mindset I gained from the first book: I want to
live more simply.
It’s more about who I want to be, the kind of life I want to
live, than about getting a particular task accomplished. And you know what?
That takes a lot of the stress off.
Bethke continues, “And why does this distinction matter so
much? I think because Scripture doesn’t talk much about goals. But it is deeply
focused on our identity. On who we are becoming.”
Again – YES YES YES.
This is a discussion I occasionally have one-on-one with a student and
one I’m wondering if I should have more with my classes as a whole. It’s fine
to have the goal of a particular grade in a class. But really, the goal should
be about who you are becoming. Am I becoming a diligent student? Am I becoming
a thoughtful reader? Am I becoming an honest worker? Am I becoming a critical
thinker?
Because as we all remember (those of us who are not in
school anymore), when a grade is the goal, temptations to take shortcuts are
strong.
Here's a story I take no pride in: I cheated on a quiz my senior
year and got caught. That may sound pretty tame, but there’s a bit more to it. I was usually in the honors classes, but because of some scheduling issues, I was in “regular” U.S. Government for a
semester. There was another honors student in there with me; we’d gone to
school together since elementary and he lived down the street from me, but we
were from completely different worlds. He was a heavy drug user and, as I
recall, an outspoken atheist.
But in this class, we were seated by each other and ended up
talking a lot because we knew each other better than we did anyone else in the
room. So, when the teacher passed out a quiz that I was uncharacteristically
unprepared for and I felt the very uncharacteristic urge to ask someone
to refresh my memory on something, he was the one to turn to. And I did. And he
whispered an answer to me. And I immediately turned back around and saw the
teacher looking at us. He picked up both of our quizzes, and we got zeroes.
I cannot TELL you how embarrassed I was. First of all, I was
the honors student in the class, and I was the one cheating. Secondly, I had
gotten that boy in trouble – the goody-two-shoes outspoken Christian girl got the druggie atheist in trouble! It was humiliating. The zero didn’t affect my grade much, but I was ashamed,
nevertheless.
Because I knew deep down that a Cheater was not who I was,
and it most certainly was not who I wanted to become. I think back now and
realize that it was a good thing I got caught; if it had been that easy and I’d
gotten away with it, it would have been even easier to do again . . . and again
. . . and again . . . and even if it wouldn’t have changed my grades or my reputation, it would have changed who I was.
My grades were not important. My reputation was of minimal importance. Who I was . . . that was of the greatest possible importance.
Formation. I don’t want to be accomplished; I want to be
formed. And getting that distinction in my head has made a big difference.
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