Structure and the Gift of Lists
Starting is always the hardest part for me. It doesn’t matter what it is — work, cleaning, writing or knitting — I waste most of my time trying to begin.
When I was in high school, I had trouble engaging with the whole school process. It might be more accurate to say that I actively resisted the school process. This was equally the fault of myself, an uninvolved parent and a system designed only to handle and/or produce one type of person. Like most angst-ridden adolescents, I never really imagined my future in real or practical terms. I knew I didn’t want to exist in the type of society I saw, but I didn’t really have anything to replace it with. I was futureless. I knew people who planned to go to college, but they mostly seemed like the same people who would just go on to participate in the world in a way I couldn’t imagine doing. There were, of course, exceptions to this, but college was the last thing on my mind or in my sights.
Then there was this teacher. And while I still believe that the system of public education is inherently flawed, I also believe in the power of the people who teach and work within that system to accomplish something valuable. Ms. Lumpkins (along with a couple of other really amazing people) taught me that formal education wasn’t all bad and even went so far as to suggest that maybe I ought to consider going to college. Hmmm. No one had ever really told me that this was a possibility for me. And my lackadaisical approach to school and the subsequent inconsistent and spotty report card was never gonna get me there. So, I decided to “apply myself” and, you know, actually study and do my homework. This was a beginning.
I was not stupid, and it didn’t take me long to achieve a pretty incredible turn around. I even managed to get into college (though I didn’t end up attending for another 3.5 years after graduating high school). Now, nearly 13 years on the other side of that period of my life, it’s easy to sum it all up in a few short sentences, but that just doesn’t do the hardwork and effort of it all justice. While the school work itself was a breeze, the skills and the discipline it took to stick with it and simply complete the work was gruelling. I felt like I was in basic training. It was here that I first realized how difficult it is for me to start things.
The problem seems to start with my brain, which races off in about a hundred different directions at the slightest provocation. When faced with a project or task, I can see everything that needs to be done and each element appears as a flash in my mind like pieces of a puzzle dumped out on a card table. These pieces are contrasted against a much larger image of the big picture/end resut all neatly assembled together. The challenge, I guess, is walking the path that connects all of those pieces and results in the final product. And, as they say, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I seem to spend a lot of time fretting about that one, single step.
About the same time that I decided to apply myself to school, my mother decided to apply herself to being a more active parent. This was a very interesting time for both of us. She didn’t always know how to do things and neither did I, but we learned how to laugh a lot and that turned out to be very important. One Sunday as I was writing a paper on Reagan for my AP English class, I had a complete and total meltdown (one of many) about how I was not going to be able to finish it and there was just no way. She sat with me through the whole ordeal and when I was all done, she hugged me, handed me a tissue and helped me create a plan.
“It all starts with a list,” she said. “You can only do one thing at a time, so just start with one thing. What do you need to do next?”
I told her.
“Okay, do that thing and when you are done, come back to me.”
So, I did that thing. Then I went back to her. She asked me what came next. I told her. She sent me away to do that one thing and so on and so forth until I had a 14 page paper completely written with a bibliography and everything. (Consequently, I got an A+ on the paper and a comment from the teacher who said that my paper was excellent but had one simple flaw — I failed to explain Reagan’s popularity in light of my very negative portrayal of his presidency…)
This process of helping me find some structure was something my mother did at a number of points along the way. Eventually we got to the point where we created a list together and then I crossed off each step on my own. And ultimately to the point where I could do the whole thing — list creation and completion — by myself. This process is something I still use to this day. The gift of a list was one of the most valuable things I ever received from my mother.
Lists help me create a much needed structure and they help me understand that, like putting together those thousand-piece puzzles — in which you first sort out all the pieces, turn them right side up, place similar ones together, gather the edge pieces, build the frame and then work piece by piece and area by area to assemble the big picture — you can create a systematic approach for any task. If it were not for lists, I would accomplish precious little in a given day.
January 22nd, 2006 at 1:00 pm
I should probably start doing things like that myself. I tend to flit from one piece of a task to another, either because I get bored easily - which I do - or because an idea hits me and instead of writing it down to go back to after I’m finished what I’m doing which yes, I know would be the sensible approach, I just do right to the next idea. Explains why I have so many knitting WIPs around the house.
I’d be interested to know if your view of Reagan has changed in light of his successors.
January 22nd, 2006 at 1:34 pm
My view of Reagan as a leader is informed only by his political actions and those of his administration, so his successors have no impact on my (still negative) opinion of his presidency.
January 22nd, 2006 at 7:19 pm
I love lists too, and we’re not alone. One of my office mates in grad school says she keeps a notebook just for all of her various lists!
I recently saw a PBS special on Reagan (we paused on it and then couldn’t turn away, much like watching an accident).The major theme that kept recurring about him was his incredible personal magnetism and his ability to schmooze within the GOP–they loved him. So much in fact, they kept trying to give him the presidential nomination years before he picked up the torch. I shudder to think where we’d be if he’d served in his prime–he did enough damage in his dotage.
January 22nd, 2006 at 7:30 pm
Indeed. Given the opportunity to respond to my old high school teacher’s comment, the only thing I can ever think of is, “I have no explanation.” I guess charm and magnetism is as plausible an answer as any. One good friend of mine said it so well when she stated, “What people fail to realize is that he wasn’t a president, he was an actor playing the role of a president.” And apparently that was enough for people. Weird.
January 22nd, 2006 at 11:32 pm
I, too, have massive problems taking that first step, and I, too, rely on lists. They really help calm me down sometimes (tho’ sometimes, when I let them get too broad in scope, they can be just as overwhelming as the unlisted chaos which preceded them).
As for Reagan, I can’t say I really like him or think he was a great president, but at least I got the feeling he was a fundamentally decent human being (albeit an astonishingly clueless one) - whereas with our current president, I really get the sense that he is not only mentally-deficient, but also truly malicious in his heart.
January 23rd, 2006 at 8:13 pm
Here’s another thought that might help with getting started. Sometimes you can start in several places. I think we live in a very linear culture so it is easy to worry about whether you are starting in the ‘right’ place. I used to tell my (university) students that the introduction was the worst place to start and that, in fact, they should write it last. Starting in the middle can work out great.
Same with a sweater. Don’t know what kind of edge you want on it? Start with a provisional cast on and do the edging last (also good when you have a limited amount of yarn and kind of fancy a wide edging but aren’t sure if your yarn will last). Not sure how it’s going to look/feel in real sweater sized pieces? Start with a sleeve.
The trick is to trust your gut and just start. Once started it is much easier to keep going.
January 24th, 2006 at 7:10 am
JoVE, I had this whole piece about a non-linear approach building off the puzzle metaphor. I talked about how, just like when putting large puzzles together, you need to know when to stop beating your head against a specific area and move on to another space. You can start with the edges, but when you get stuck, moving to a different patch for awhile can really clear your head. But the entry was already a bit long so I ended up cutting it out. You are absolutely right. I think one of the consequences of a living in a linear culture is a strong belief in and adherence to “the right way” to do something. This is, of course, not a very useful strategy as there are many ways to tackle any given task, as you so aptly demonstrate with your sweater illustration. I think that where many of us fail is in the “trust your gut” arena. We do not receive a lot of training in relying on instinct or intuition. The process of creating and improvising involves a lot of relying on our own intuition. This requires a certain element of self-confidence. Hmmm. I think I feel another post coming on…
As always, your thoughtful comments and discussion are much appreciated.
January 25th, 2006 at 8:14 am
[...] just that I talk too much.” — Annie Dillard
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