I keep seeing love and (more often) hate posts about Elf. Here's my story about a countdown "tradition", which may shed some light on the dilemma about the elf.
Two years ago I discovered the Lego Christmas village. For around $60 I got a cute little bakery in 600+ pieces with instructions. Then my helpful husband and I spent HOURS on the night of Nov 30 dividing the pieces and directions into 24 bags, one of which was hidden each night for search and assembly the following day. Fun. At first. By Christmas Eve they were distracted by many other things and had to be encouraged to find the bag. If memory serves we were simply too busy doing other things to actually finish building the thing before Christmas, but we did get to it eventually.
I'm pretty tenacious and having decided that it would be super-fun to do this every year and add a new structure every year and still build the old one . . . well, you see where this is going. Last year I spent around $100 (these things always seem to get bigger and more expensive) on a house in 1000+ pieces. I'd learned my lesson about the bags though. If we adults did all the sorting, we ended up spending about 3 times as much time "building" as they did. So this year, I gave the kids all the pieces and just doled out the directions, hiding a piece of them each day for 24 days. The first few days were great. By the time I had packed the whole thing up to take with us to Grandma's for Christmas, the shine had worn off and it took direct participation from an adult to get my 9 and 11 year old siblings to work on it at all, especially if it was going to be at all collaborative. (Did I mention that sibling collaboration was one of the justifications I used for the expense to begin with?)
So this year I got on and looked for the next new building. (Tenacious, or is that stubborn?) I didn't like any of them. I still like the one with the cool big tree that has always been my favorite, but was a collector's item priced over $200 even the first year I knew about them. No way I was doing that. I had the good sense to ask myself whether this was a good idea at all, but the really good idea was this: I ASKED MY KID.
This is the secret. I asked my child what he valued. Was it the new Lego set (for my novelty-focused child)? Sure, he'd like one, but no that wasn't really the thing. Was it the Christmas theme? Not really. It was the searching. That was the most important part. He likes to look for some hidden something. So I took the two Lego sets we already have, and put a random handful of pieces (not quite random, I didn't mix the sets) in each of 24 bags. I hide one each day. If I forget, he reminds me and goes upstairs so I can do my thing. And each day he sees what he can build, not necessarily in order, on the set. It's a huge win - it took almost no resources from me and he gets exactly what he loved most about the whole thing to begin with.
I think the same is true with the Elf. Until you know why it matters to your child, you can't possibly know whether it is a good idea or how to do it best. No, I don't think the magic ("lies") are what count. Let them believe the same way you believe the story of a book or a movie. What counts will be different for each child. For some it will be the surprise, for others the search. Some will love the humor. For some it will be important because everyone else is doing it. Once you know that, you can decide what makes sense for your family. If humor is the thing, set it up as a "webcam" and post a different pick of someone else's cute and funny idea on your computer screen each morning. (For the industrious person who can make money off of setting up "webcam app", you're welcome.) If it is the search, find something to hide that feels good to you. If it is being like everyone else, think about that and how you want to encourage that or not in your family.
Which brings me to the other piece, which is ASK YOURSELF. What do you want to do with your time this Advent? What is meaningful to you? What can you give joyously? Some people just love setting up crafty little scenes. Others don't. If your child loves that little elf, but you hate it and hate doing it but you are doing it anyway, I'd rethink that. The word codependent comes to mind.
The Lego village and the Elf are not great ideas or horrible ideas, they are just ideas. This holiday season, I hope we will all take the time to ask ourselves and those around us where the meaning is for each of us. Resist the push and pull of tradition and marketing and what everyone else is doing. This year, let it be your holiday in the way that is just right for you and model the same for your children.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Rethink Democracy
Life brings experience. If we let it, experience brings change. Over time I find that my beliefs shift, my values refine and things that once seemed clearly correct don't feel right at all. Often there is an every-day moment that brings this shift into focus.
I had such a moment recently. My daughter, fresh from a year in a democratic school, started laying out rules for her new group of friends. I cringed. It wasn't the quality of the rules. Megan has always been thoughtful of others and a year of parliamentary procedure and democratic rule-making built her skill making clear, fair rules. Rather my cringe was at the concept of rules.
I began to question my self-classification as "democrat". To be clear, I"m not talking about a political party. It's the more common definition that I find myself rejecting. It's the majority rule or majority vote approach to life and governance. It's the idea that passing a rule will solve a problem, that might makes right (even if that might is in the form of votes).
I remember being my daughter's age. Back then I believed that the right rules could solve anything. I loved rules. Rules could make my world ordered, safe and predictable. My adult self knows this isn't true. Now I see rules differently.
At their best, rules are a substitute for relationship. In situations where strangers who have little in common must co-exist, rules can add efficiency and increase security. An airport, for example, couldn't function without rules. There is no time or space for building trust and care, so instead we use rules to tell us how to behave toward one another.
The problem comes when we make the substitution within the context of a community. When our neighborhoods, gathering spaces and places of worship use rules unilaterally to solve problems, or when a group of girls begins to form rules before they have even met together for the first time, rules serve a different purpose. In these cases rules divide. They categorize behavior as either right or wrong. As those behaviors are attached to people, rules become catalysts for judgement and righteousness. They are enemies of trust and care. Rules don't just substitute for relationships, they block them from forming. They tell me that I am right and you are wrong and there is no need for me to get to know you, explore your ideas and learn your viewpoint. They create a wall between us and box me into my own righteous certainty.
The alternative is trust and vulnerability. Living without rules means taking the time to listen to others' needs and finding the courage to voice my own. Listening takes time and energy so often in short supply. Sharing needs is even more costly. Sharing means traveling through uncertainty, exposing myself as needy and putting myself in your hands. It means being disappointed. It means understanding that needs don't always get met. It means embracing and sharing my own vulnerability. That, I'm learning, is the cost and the source of connection. It is only when I open myself and embrace my vulnerability and yours that we can connect. As terrifying as it is to approach that moment, it is there that we will build the foundations of joy and peace. It is there that our deepest need is fulfilled - our need to be connected to others.
Democracy and parliamentary procedure can never teach us this. They can buy us order and there is a time and a place for that. The danger is in substituting rules when understanding is possible.
I'm glad I live in a larger democracy, albeit a very flawed one. In my day to day life, however, I don't want to see lists of rules. I want to be with you, face to face and understand you. I want to place myself in your care and know that trusting is better than carrying armor. I want to pick up the piece of litter that you dropped and clean the coffee cup you left unwashed and be at peace believing that we are all just doing our best. I want to let go of "fair" and "right" and live instead in truth and resilience.
If this seems radical to you, if you think I'm setting myself up for hurt, if you think I'm crazy, come on over. I'll wager two cups of tea that when we sit down face to face we will connect and we will both be richer as a result.
I had such a moment recently. My daughter, fresh from a year in a democratic school, started laying out rules for her new group of friends. I cringed. It wasn't the quality of the rules. Megan has always been thoughtful of others and a year of parliamentary procedure and democratic rule-making built her skill making clear, fair rules. Rather my cringe was at the concept of rules.
I began to question my self-classification as "democrat". To be clear, I"m not talking about a political party. It's the more common definition that I find myself rejecting. It's the majority rule or majority vote approach to life and governance. It's the idea that passing a rule will solve a problem, that might makes right (even if that might is in the form of votes).
I remember being my daughter's age. Back then I believed that the right rules could solve anything. I loved rules. Rules could make my world ordered, safe and predictable. My adult self knows this isn't true. Now I see rules differently.
At their best, rules are a substitute for relationship. In situations where strangers who have little in common must co-exist, rules can add efficiency and increase security. An airport, for example, couldn't function without rules. There is no time or space for building trust and care, so instead we use rules to tell us how to behave toward one another.
The problem comes when we make the substitution within the context of a community. When our neighborhoods, gathering spaces and places of worship use rules unilaterally to solve problems, or when a group of girls begins to form rules before they have even met together for the first time, rules serve a different purpose. In these cases rules divide. They categorize behavior as either right or wrong. As those behaviors are attached to people, rules become catalysts for judgement and righteousness. They are enemies of trust and care. Rules don't just substitute for relationships, they block them from forming. They tell me that I am right and you are wrong and there is no need for me to get to know you, explore your ideas and learn your viewpoint. They create a wall between us and box me into my own righteous certainty.
The alternative is trust and vulnerability. Living without rules means taking the time to listen to others' needs and finding the courage to voice my own. Listening takes time and energy so often in short supply. Sharing needs is even more costly. Sharing means traveling through uncertainty, exposing myself as needy and putting myself in your hands. It means being disappointed. It means understanding that needs don't always get met. It means embracing and sharing my own vulnerability. That, I'm learning, is the cost and the source of connection. It is only when I open myself and embrace my vulnerability and yours that we can connect. As terrifying as it is to approach that moment, it is there that we will build the foundations of joy and peace. It is there that our deepest need is fulfilled - our need to be connected to others.
Democracy and parliamentary procedure can never teach us this. They can buy us order and there is a time and a place for that. The danger is in substituting rules when understanding is possible.
I'm glad I live in a larger democracy, albeit a very flawed one. In my day to day life, however, I don't want to see lists of rules. I want to be with you, face to face and understand you. I want to place myself in your care and know that trusting is better than carrying armor. I want to pick up the piece of litter that you dropped and clean the coffee cup you left unwashed and be at peace believing that we are all just doing our best. I want to let go of "fair" and "right" and live instead in truth and resilience.
If this seems radical to you, if you think I'm setting myself up for hurt, if you think I'm crazy, come on over. I'll wager two cups of tea that when we sit down face to face we will connect and we will both be richer as a result.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Learn the Easy Way
If I could learn the easy way, I would have arrived here long ago. Sometimes I pay attention to life's little nudges, but more often I don't. Most of the the really meaningful lessons in life come as I stumble through through life's challenges.
It's holiday time again. My Facebook feed is overflowing with plastic eggs and artificial colors. Smiles amid furry costumes, new clothes, and flower-covered crosses. I added my own little piece of bragging righteousness. My simple celebration, my joyful children, my rejection of materialism. In my own way I stood up for my values amidst a flood of commercialism. That's OK, but it's only part of the story. Here, with room to reflect broadly, there is space for truth.
The truth is, I love a good holiday. I love to wrap presents and fill baskets. I love to buy joy for my sweet children. I remember my childhood holidays, the magic of a basket of eggs transformed overnight into chocolate treats and a fabulous game of hide-and-seek. Even as nostalgia rules the day, I'm sure I can make it even better for my children. I can add that great new idea from Pinterest. I can make the gifts bigger, the treats more varied. I convince myself that doing more will create more magic.
The truth is that I have bought plastic eggs and Easter dresses. I have bloated my children with sugary treats, I have made holidays ever bigger. Yes, I have come to see it as too much, but I didn't get there gently. I might have been led by the gentle observations of my mother noting how things have changed since she raised her children. It could have been a news story of how much is spent each year on Peeps. It might have been a post on the dangers of food dye or the simpler example of a friend. All of those things were around me, and while I attended to each in some way and many caused some small change, none could overcome the momentum of my enthusiasm for holiday extravagance.
The truth strips away my righteousness and forces me to confess that it was not my values or my convictions that changed the celebration at my house. It was the challenge. We live with the challenge of histamine-intolerance. My children can't eat wheat, dairy or eggs. Easter brunch is a minefield for us. The candy aisle offers nothing but temptation. Community egg hunts offer no treasures. I've taught my children too well that cheap plastic toys do little but stuff the landfills. How then, is a mother to create Easter magic? It is a challenge that opens the door to learning.
I don't like this learning space. I'm much happier "doing my best" in this crazy, busy world, often relying on commercial substitutes for the ideals I dream of. I prefer drifting off to sleep knowing that come morning my children will wake to the expected joys and I will be rewarded with the expected smiles. I'm not brave enough to venture far into the unknown when I have the option of the comfortable norm.
This Easter I am blessed not to have that option. This Easter one idea after another was foiled and in the end celebrations were pretty small. Pennies were hidden instead of eggs. Candy was homemade and poorly formed. Baskets never found their way out of the attic and rain interrupted our planned bout of spring planting. I feared my children would simply "outgrow" Easter at far too young an age.
They didn't. It turns out the magic of Easter isn't measured by the size of the basket. The joyful power of novelty is greater than that of fulfilled expectations. The satisfaction in solving a puzzle is greater than the reward of eating a chocolate bunny. And the candy? Well, if I'd bought Reese's eggs, my children would have found it much harder to share out the bits - chocolate for the chocolate-lover and peanut butter for her brother.
Once again, my children and life's challenges have taught me lessons that I couldn't learn the easy way and I am grateful.
It's holiday time again. My Facebook feed is overflowing with plastic eggs and artificial colors. Smiles amid furry costumes, new clothes, and flower-covered crosses. I added my own little piece of bragging righteousness. My simple celebration, my joyful children, my rejection of materialism. In my own way I stood up for my values amidst a flood of commercialism. That's OK, but it's only part of the story. Here, with room to reflect broadly, there is space for truth.
The truth is, I love a good holiday. I love to wrap presents and fill baskets. I love to buy joy for my sweet children. I remember my childhood holidays, the magic of a basket of eggs transformed overnight into chocolate treats and a fabulous game of hide-and-seek. Even as nostalgia rules the day, I'm sure I can make it even better for my children. I can add that great new idea from Pinterest. I can make the gifts bigger, the treats more varied. I convince myself that doing more will create more magic.
The truth is that I have bought plastic eggs and Easter dresses. I have bloated my children with sugary treats, I have made holidays ever bigger. Yes, I have come to see it as too much, but I didn't get there gently. I might have been led by the gentle observations of my mother noting how things have changed since she raised her children. It could have been a news story of how much is spent each year on Peeps. It might have been a post on the dangers of food dye or the simpler example of a friend. All of those things were around me, and while I attended to each in some way and many caused some small change, none could overcome the momentum of my enthusiasm for holiday extravagance.
The truth strips away my righteousness and forces me to confess that it was not my values or my convictions that changed the celebration at my house. It was the challenge. We live with the challenge of histamine-intolerance. My children can't eat wheat, dairy or eggs. Easter brunch is a minefield for us. The candy aisle offers nothing but temptation. Community egg hunts offer no treasures. I've taught my children too well that cheap plastic toys do little but stuff the landfills. How then, is a mother to create Easter magic? It is a challenge that opens the door to learning.
I don't like this learning space. I'm much happier "doing my best" in this crazy, busy world, often relying on commercial substitutes for the ideals I dream of. I prefer drifting off to sleep knowing that come morning my children will wake to the expected joys and I will be rewarded with the expected smiles. I'm not brave enough to venture far into the unknown when I have the option of the comfortable norm.
This Easter I am blessed not to have that option. This Easter one idea after another was foiled and in the end celebrations were pretty small. Pennies were hidden instead of eggs. Candy was homemade and poorly formed. Baskets never found their way out of the attic and rain interrupted our planned bout of spring planting. I feared my children would simply "outgrow" Easter at far too young an age.
They didn't. It turns out the magic of Easter isn't measured by the size of the basket. The joyful power of novelty is greater than that of fulfilled expectations. The satisfaction in solving a puzzle is greater than the reward of eating a chocolate bunny. And the candy? Well, if I'd bought Reese's eggs, my children would have found it much harder to share out the bits - chocolate for the chocolate-lover and peanut butter for her brother.
Once again, my children and life's challenges have taught me lessons that I couldn't learn the easy way and I am grateful.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Ask "Why Christmas?"
'Tis the season. The season for rushing and shopping, for too many parties and too little sleep, for sweet indulgence and spending too much. In the midst of the craziness let's stop for a minute and ask ourselves "Why?"
** Some of this was influenced by Brene Brown's interview on On Being and her book Daring Greatly.
If I did a survey I'd likely get answers in three broad categories. The devout among us would speak of a savior, a star and some royalty. The sentimentalists may use the word tradition around stories of ornaments and cookies, thinking fondly of the loved ones with whom they share these things. The realists know that much of it is shear momentum as one year leads to the next.
I'm going to set aside the realists for a moment, and focus on the warm and fuzzy. The real value of Christmas is for the things a savior in a manger and a gathering of cookie decorators have in common. Both are all about love. It is the look in Mary's eyes, and the message the baby grew up to teach. It is the reason a mother invites her children to spread flour and colored sugar across the table and onto the floor.
While love may be the real value of Christmas, the realists aren't wrong either. Much of what fills December (and even back into November these days), has nothing to do with love and is all about momentum. We remember the fun we had last year and we are afraid that if we do less this year . . . you can fill in the blank. For this is the real crux of the matter. We are afraid.
Fear has become the driver of Christmas. Fear that our child will get less than another child and feel unloved. Fear that our heartfelt, inexpensive gift will be rejected, that we will be rejected. Fear that Christmas will be too small, too small to be magical, too small to wrap us in love. Fear that we will be forgotten, dismissed, left out, alone. Fear that we will be unloved.
How did this happen? Yes, in the media of course. Fear is great for marketing, it feeds consumerism as nothing else can. Blaming the media is mostly a shortcut though, a convenient way to bypass our part in this process.
We go about buying Christmas with our time and our money because it is much more comfortable than facing our fears. Aunt Sally really might reject the handmade Christmas card, lovingly crafted in her favorite colors. That piece of yourself really could be thrown back in your face. My child really might hear from friends who got fancy electronics for Christmas and be deeply disappointed in the chess board and the time I spent playing it with him. We might both feel unloved.
Giving love for Christmas is tough because when we really offer ourselves to someone else we are profoundly vulnerable. We are wide open to their rejection. It makes the gift precious, but it takes tremendous courage. I bet you know this. I bet if you think of the single Christmas memory in which you felt the most loved, it was because someone offered you love in a way that made them vulnerable. I bet you've been vulnerable that way too.
We don't like the uncertainty that is human relationships at their best. We especially don't like it in an intense season like Christmas. Buying and busy-ness are much more comfortable. Yet they leave us with this nagging feeling that somehow all this isn't quite enough. There is always one more gift that is needed. We feel the need for one more something that will bring the love home this Christmas. It is something that cannot be purchased with money or baked with sugar. It must be crafted of courage, vulnerability and love.
So this year, if you find yourself in church and you hear an angel say "Fear not!" take that to heart. Draw courage. Open yourself, allow yourself to be vulnerable. In that space of vulnerability, the love of Christmas will reign again.
** Some of this was influenced by Brene Brown's interview on On Being and her book Daring Greatly.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Instruct the President
Congratulations, Mr. President, you have another term to head the executive branch of our government. You've spent the last year or so working on getting elected, which means you've talked a lot about how to fix the economy. Now that you are elected, I hope you will realize that the powers of the presidency far fall short of the ability to fix the economy. Instead, I challenge you to think about what a president can do, should do, and must do for the health of our nation.
My high school Government teacher taught me that the president doesn't make laws. Sure, you can propose things to congress and you can veto laws, but your real job is to pay attention to what happens after the laws are passed. This is the work that is desperately needed in our nation: a deep, informed, thoughtful look at the laws we have and the impact they have on people. I believe you are a deep thinker and you certainly know the law better than I. It is time to use those strengths, together with your connection with the people, to lead us all to an understanding of what our laws are really doing.
As an average citizen, it is hard to understand the laws, much less recognize their many impacts. Still, I have some thoughts about some laws that need a second look, just for a start:
Criminalization of recreational drug use. The apparent goal here is to reduce the use of recreational drugs. I would argue that the true objective is to reduce the damage caused to Americans by such drug use and related addictions. Does it work? The War on Drugs sounds righteous, but it doesn't seem to have eliminated the drugs. It is frightfully expensive. Our laws fuel violence. They increase the damage caused by addiction, make it harder to get treatment and empower drug lords. Probably there are individuals who would try legal drugs that don't try illegal ones. Are there enough to balance the damage of the enforcement?
Investment tax breaks. The goal of these laws is to increase the money invested in our economy, helping it grow. Setting aside for now my questions about the value of economic growth, I'll ask whether these tax breaks actually influence the behavior of potential investors. Is more money invested under the current law than would be if these tax breaks were removed?
Agricultural subsidies. The idea here was to keep farmers in business and keep American food affordable. With the majority of this money now going to corporate farmers with substantial profits it is hard to believe either the food supply or corporate farms would fail without these government dollars. They likely do increase the quantity of food produced. The question is whether we are satisfied with mere quantity or would prefer our laws to promote quality. How could subsidies be redirected to help the farmers that actually need support and to increase the quality of the food Americans are eating?
Education. Federal dollars for education are intended to bring up the quality of worst schools and create a balanced, effective system for all children. Do they? After years of federal involvement in schools, are they producing young adults that are more able to achieve their goals? We're accustomed to measuring academic success (and even these results don't look promising), but we need to look deeper. What has happened to self-esteem, love of learning, motivation and critical thinking skills under the federal regulations? We need to look at the whole picture and seriously consider which programs to keep.
These are just a few. There are programs throughout our government that need this sort of attention and more.
Mr. President, enforcing our laws, teaching us what they do and leading us to more effective legislation could be the most important legacy of your second term. You have four years in which to govern without worry for your next campaign. Enjoy them, and use them well.
My high school Government teacher taught me that the president doesn't make laws. Sure, you can propose things to congress and you can veto laws, but your real job is to pay attention to what happens after the laws are passed. This is the work that is desperately needed in our nation: a deep, informed, thoughtful look at the laws we have and the impact they have on people. I believe you are a deep thinker and you certainly know the law better than I. It is time to use those strengths, together with your connection with the people, to lead us all to an understanding of what our laws are really doing.
As an average citizen, it is hard to understand the laws, much less recognize their many impacts. Still, I have some thoughts about some laws that need a second look, just for a start:
Criminalization of recreational drug use. The apparent goal here is to reduce the use of recreational drugs. I would argue that the true objective is to reduce the damage caused to Americans by such drug use and related addictions. Does it work? The War on Drugs sounds righteous, but it doesn't seem to have eliminated the drugs. It is frightfully expensive. Our laws fuel violence. They increase the damage caused by addiction, make it harder to get treatment and empower drug lords. Probably there are individuals who would try legal drugs that don't try illegal ones. Are there enough to balance the damage of the enforcement?
Investment tax breaks. The goal of these laws is to increase the money invested in our economy, helping it grow. Setting aside for now my questions about the value of economic growth, I'll ask whether these tax breaks actually influence the behavior of potential investors. Is more money invested under the current law than would be if these tax breaks were removed?
Agricultural subsidies. The idea here was to keep farmers in business and keep American food affordable. With the majority of this money now going to corporate farmers with substantial profits it is hard to believe either the food supply or corporate farms would fail without these government dollars. They likely do increase the quantity of food produced. The question is whether we are satisfied with mere quantity or would prefer our laws to promote quality. How could subsidies be redirected to help the farmers that actually need support and to increase the quality of the food Americans are eating?
Education. Federal dollars for education are intended to bring up the quality of worst schools and create a balanced, effective system for all children. Do they? After years of federal involvement in schools, are they producing young adults that are more able to achieve their goals? We're accustomed to measuring academic success (and even these results don't look promising), but we need to look deeper. What has happened to self-esteem, love of learning, motivation and critical thinking skills under the federal regulations? We need to look at the whole picture and seriously consider which programs to keep.
These are just a few. There are programs throughout our government that need this sort of attention and more.
Mr. President, enforcing our laws, teaching us what they do and leading us to more effective legislation could be the most important legacy of your second term. You have four years in which to govern without worry for your next campaign. Enjoy them, and use them well.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Share Our Work, Share Our Wage
I posted yesterday some ideas that were broad, radical and so far out of the box it is difficult to imagine how they would work. So today I want to think through one of those ideas in more detail I'm calling it Share Our Work, Share Our Wage, or SOW, a fitting name for the hard work of sowing the seeds of change one by one.
It's easy to say that if each of us would give up 10% of our wages in exchange for a 10% reduction in work hours we could reduce unemployment by about 10%. Of course it isn't quite that easy. Not every job will work that way. Not every family can afford to give up 10% of their wage. Not every company will go along. It's true. A program like this will take time and will not be a panacea. On the other hand, if just half of us did it, it would bring the unemployment levels down to healthy levels. The question is, where do we start.
Let's start right here. First we need a conversation. We need to change the dialogue from one of proudly talking about our long work weeks to one of celebrating family and leisure time. Let's talk about all the benefits of reduced work hours: lower stress; improved health; increased time for hobbies, exercise and charitable work; reduced commutes and traffic; stronger marriages and family relationships; and more. There was a time in our history when recycling sounded as strange and unlikely as a 36 hour work week sounds today. Just as that value shifted through deliberate efforts of conversation and education, we can change our expectations about work.
Naturally, our leaders, especially the White House, can accelerate this process. This might be the most powerful impact government can have, but we needn't stop there. Government is the biggest employer in our nation and can be a model for how to shift workers to a 36 hour work week. We'd have to do it right, of course - we don't want to model discontent and failure.
First and foremost we have to take care of our current employees. There are a few hard and fast rules that must be followed. First, never reduce someone's paycheck without their consent. This means that any reductions in work and wage would be voluntary.
Second, involve workers in the decision-making. If you have a team of five scientists ready to sign on to SOW, let them decide how to spend that money. The available wages wouldn't be enough to hire another full time scientist. Would they like a part time scientist, a statistician shared with another team, or perhaps secretarial help which is less expensive? By including your current workers in the decision making, they are invested in the program and less fearful of change.
Third, take it slow and expect it to take a decade or more to be fully implemented. Take the time to plan first. Then begin by designing any new positions to fit a 36 hour week, then adapt the job descriptions of any new hires for existing positions to meet that goal. Along the way offer existing workers the option to voluntarily switch over.
Fourth, be up front about the real costs of the program. A 10% reduction in pay is not the same as a 10% reduction in salary. Workers will still need full benefits and the costs of those will not go down. The actual salary reduction could be a s much as 12 - 15% to make it work. Be sure no one is caught off guard. Of course, in time less stressed employees may use less health care and those costs could go down as well, but we can't count on that.
Fifth, offer plans that make the transition smooth. Most families would have a hard time absorbing a 10-15% pay cut all at once. Let them do it in steps. Take a half day off each month, then a full day with matching pay reductions. Or keep pay constant and let "raises" take the form of reduced hours rather than increased pay. This sort of program could even be mandatory provided enough notice is given and those near retirement are exempted.
Finally, be flexible. Offer a 30 hour work week with full benefits. This could be ideal for families with two working parents wishing to share the care of their children. Allow job-sharing. Be open to work-from-home, flexible hours and other programs that will increase job satisfaction and worker retention.
It's time to end the rat race for lots of reasons. Reducing unemployment and poverty is the charitable one. Family connections, health, and joy may be even more compelling. We can do it and it all starts with a conversation.
It's easy to say that if each of us would give up 10% of our wages in exchange for a 10% reduction in work hours we could reduce unemployment by about 10%. Of course it isn't quite that easy. Not every job will work that way. Not every family can afford to give up 10% of their wage. Not every company will go along. It's true. A program like this will take time and will not be a panacea. On the other hand, if just half of us did it, it would bring the unemployment levels down to healthy levels. The question is, where do we start.
Let's start right here. First we need a conversation. We need to change the dialogue from one of proudly talking about our long work weeks to one of celebrating family and leisure time. Let's talk about all the benefits of reduced work hours: lower stress; improved health; increased time for hobbies, exercise and charitable work; reduced commutes and traffic; stronger marriages and family relationships; and more. There was a time in our history when recycling sounded as strange and unlikely as a 36 hour work week sounds today. Just as that value shifted through deliberate efforts of conversation and education, we can change our expectations about work.
Naturally, our leaders, especially the White House, can accelerate this process. This might be the most powerful impact government can have, but we needn't stop there. Government is the biggest employer in our nation and can be a model for how to shift workers to a 36 hour work week. We'd have to do it right, of course - we don't want to model discontent and failure.
First and foremost we have to take care of our current employees. There are a few hard and fast rules that must be followed. First, never reduce someone's paycheck without their consent. This means that any reductions in work and wage would be voluntary.
Second, involve workers in the decision-making. If you have a team of five scientists ready to sign on to SOW, let them decide how to spend that money. The available wages wouldn't be enough to hire another full time scientist. Would they like a part time scientist, a statistician shared with another team, or perhaps secretarial help which is less expensive? By including your current workers in the decision making, they are invested in the program and less fearful of change.
Third, take it slow and expect it to take a decade or more to be fully implemented. Take the time to plan first. Then begin by designing any new positions to fit a 36 hour week, then adapt the job descriptions of any new hires for existing positions to meet that goal. Along the way offer existing workers the option to voluntarily switch over.
Fourth, be up front about the real costs of the program. A 10% reduction in pay is not the same as a 10% reduction in salary. Workers will still need full benefits and the costs of those will not go down. The actual salary reduction could be a s much as 12 - 15% to make it work. Be sure no one is caught off guard. Of course, in time less stressed employees may use less health care and those costs could go down as well, but we can't count on that.
Fifth, offer plans that make the transition smooth. Most families would have a hard time absorbing a 10-15% pay cut all at once. Let them do it in steps. Take a half day off each month, then a full day with matching pay reductions. Or keep pay constant and let "raises" take the form of reduced hours rather than increased pay. This sort of program could even be mandatory provided enough notice is given and those near retirement are exempted.
Finally, be flexible. Offer a 30 hour work week with full benefits. This could be ideal for families with two working parents wishing to share the care of their children. Allow job-sharing. Be open to work-from-home, flexible hours and other programs that will increase job satisfaction and worker retention.
It's time to end the rat race for lots of reasons. Reducing unemployment and poverty is the charitable one. Family connections, health, and joy may be even more compelling. We can do it and it all starts with a conversation.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Change the Conversation
Tomorrow marks the end of the longest and most expensive presidential campaign in our history. I've cast my ballot, confident that I made the better choice and believing that the man is wrong. So is the other guy. The most profound errors - the errors in ethics, in judgement and perhaps most of all the errors of Christian belief - the most profound errors are in the places where the two men agree.
They have been telling us for over a year now that we need to grow the economy. Americans accept this as truth. A growing economy has been associated with good things like reduced poverty and unemployment and perhaps that's correct. But it is the worst kind of fallacy to believe that the only way to feed the hungry is for Americans to buy more stuff.
Growing the economy is a fancy way to say "sell more stuff". With few exceptions (the arts and education for example) this means increasing the production, consumption and removal (trash) of even more stuff. It means more abuse of our planet. It means more focus on what we have leaving less room to think about who we are.
Yes, in the past unemployment has dropped and access to basics of food and housing has increased in times of economic growth. When did we begin to believe that economic growth is the only way to achieve those goals?
There are other ways, many that have been tried and proven. We know that Americans collectively have plenty of resources to take care of us all. What if those with more than enough worked fewer hours and gave those other hours (and the pay to go with them) to someone who is unemployed? What if instead of spending our money on stuff we spent it on people - artists and artisans, local farmers who produce food less efficiently but more healthfully and with more quality than big conglomerates?
Here's another huge fallacy: Medical costs will continue to rise and the solution lies within the medical system. Yes, there are things we could fix is healthcare, but real reductions in costs will happen when Americans aren't as sick. Eat right and exercise seem like personal choices, not government business, but the government has been involved in those choices for decades. Our tax dollars go to pay large corporate farms to produce cheap, unhealthy foods including white grains and sugar. Even our produce spends days (about a week) in trucks and warehouses losing most of its health value. If those same dollars were directed to local farmers reducing the cost of local, healthy food, of course more people would eat it.
By the same token, government thinks nothing of spending billions on roads, generally without bike lanes and only inefficient pedestrian systems, while failing to find money for the public transit systems that encourage walking and clean up our air.
We fund public schools that require children to sit all day. We buy these children meals that would make any nutritionist cringe. We reduce recess and PE and ever increase the hours children are expected to spend sitting and pushing a pencil - both at school and for homework.
These are the causes of increased healthcare costs as much as any changes within the healthcare system itself.
The biggest fallacy of all is this: "If you elect the right man president, he will cause the economy to grow." Economists are pretty sure this isn't true. Even if he had the full support of congress and a really good crystal ball (of which the latter seems more likely), the president's influence on the economy is less than many other factors including politics and war in the Middle East, economics in Europe, growth in China and even the weather.
Now the time of taking sides and winning and losing is coming to a close. American's obsession with who is right and who is wrong can be less central to our conversations. Now is the time to look seriously at the world we have and imagine the world that can be. Let's put the full power of American creativity and strength to work. Let's put the fallacies to rest and get serious about finding real, long term solutions to the problems of poverty, unemployment and health. Along the way I bet we'll manage to do better for the environment, education and family relationships as well.
They have been telling us for over a year now that we need to grow the economy. Americans accept this as truth. A growing economy has been associated with good things like reduced poverty and unemployment and perhaps that's correct. But it is the worst kind of fallacy to believe that the only way to feed the hungry is for Americans to buy more stuff.
Growing the economy is a fancy way to say "sell more stuff". With few exceptions (the arts and education for example) this means increasing the production, consumption and removal (trash) of even more stuff. It means more abuse of our planet. It means more focus on what we have leaving less room to think about who we are.
Yes, in the past unemployment has dropped and access to basics of food and housing has increased in times of economic growth. When did we begin to believe that economic growth is the only way to achieve those goals?
There are other ways, many that have been tried and proven. We know that Americans collectively have plenty of resources to take care of us all. What if those with more than enough worked fewer hours and gave those other hours (and the pay to go with them) to someone who is unemployed? What if instead of spending our money on stuff we spent it on people - artists and artisans, local farmers who produce food less efficiently but more healthfully and with more quality than big conglomerates?
Here's another huge fallacy: Medical costs will continue to rise and the solution lies within the medical system. Yes, there are things we could fix is healthcare, but real reductions in costs will happen when Americans aren't as sick. Eat right and exercise seem like personal choices, not government business, but the government has been involved in those choices for decades. Our tax dollars go to pay large corporate farms to produce cheap, unhealthy foods including white grains and sugar. Even our produce spends days (about a week) in trucks and warehouses losing most of its health value. If those same dollars were directed to local farmers reducing the cost of local, healthy food, of course more people would eat it.
By the same token, government thinks nothing of spending billions on roads, generally without bike lanes and only inefficient pedestrian systems, while failing to find money for the public transit systems that encourage walking and clean up our air.
We fund public schools that require children to sit all day. We buy these children meals that would make any nutritionist cringe. We reduce recess and PE and ever increase the hours children are expected to spend sitting and pushing a pencil - both at school and for homework.
These are the causes of increased healthcare costs as much as any changes within the healthcare system itself.
The biggest fallacy of all is this: "If you elect the right man president, he will cause the economy to grow." Economists are pretty sure this isn't true. Even if he had the full support of congress and a really good crystal ball (of which the latter seems more likely), the president's influence on the economy is less than many other factors including politics and war in the Middle East, economics in Europe, growth in China and even the weather.
Now the time of taking sides and winning and losing is coming to a close. American's obsession with who is right and who is wrong can be less central to our conversations. Now is the time to look seriously at the world we have and imagine the world that can be. Let's put the full power of American creativity and strength to work. Let's put the fallacies to rest and get serious about finding real, long term solutions to the problems of poverty, unemployment and health. Along the way I bet we'll manage to do better for the environment, education and family relationships as well.
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