Step 9: Perseverance

"With ordinary talent and extraordinary perseverance, all things are attainable." ~ Thomas Foxwell Buxton

I've known some people in my life who are so brilliant, so capable, and yet they never seem to reach heights that are well within their grasp. They toil away in jobs that aren't quite right. They miss the opportunity for love, for community impact, for profound influence because they weren't willing to put in just a bit more effort. My father was one of these people. He had a truly brilliant mind and could have been the leading clinical psychologist of his day. Unfortunately, he thought the world should reward him specifically because he was brilliant. He didn't realize the world doesn't work that way.

And then I've known people of fairly modest talent who were just relentless in their efforts, and achieved not only what was within their natural reach, but also successes that no one else thought possible. It's the people in this latter group who have been my greatest teachers. They showed me that the world rewards those who work as hard as they can and give the best they've got everyday. The world rewards commitment, particularly commitment that perseveres in the face of great adversity.

I thought about this ideal this morning when I found out that my after-school education program with Citizen Schools starts the week of February 8th, not the week of February 25th as I had originally planned. This accelerates the time line I now have to work under. I'm going to have to shuffle around some other commitments so that my first few lessons plans are created and edited in time for the class. I've been collecting resources for several months and now is the time to just sit down and plow through the work.

And then I paused as I looked at all of these resources, most from designers of incredible talent. I appreciate design and use the tools of a designer in my profession as a product developer, though I am not a traditionally trained designer. I didn't go to art school and I'm not an engineer. My product development skills have been self-taught. I'm a volunteer teacher, though I don't have a degree from an education school and I don't have a teacher certification. My teaching skills have also been self-taught. To top it off, I'll be teaching in a school in East Harlem with more than its fair share of challenges: it is the lowest performing school in the Citizen Schools portfolio. 87% of the students receive free or reduced-price lunch (this is an indicator that 87% fall at or below the poverty line), 86% read below grade level, and 78% have math skills below grade level.

I leaned back in my chair, and asked myself, "What exactly are you doing, Christa?" But I didn't ask this question with an air of despair or fear. I asked myself the question to mean, "What is the heart of the matter here? What gifts do you have to give these children who need you so much?" With that motivation in mind, any trace of trepidation disappeared.

I have modest design talents with extraordinary passion, empathy, and determination to back them up. I grew up below the poverty line, and still many adults believed in my talents and abilities. Now its my turn to manifest that same belief in these children. I'm paying forward the great and good gifts that so many people gave me when I was in school.

My idea to use design as the backbone to engage students in the learning process is not revolutionary; many people have thought of this idea, and many of them are far better designers than I am. No matter. There are so many children who need help, so many children who need an adult to show up for them and take a vested interest in their lives and education, that it is impossible for me to not have a profound impact in this field. My own individual commitment and perseverance is the only limitation on the amount of good I can do with this program, and I've got both of those in spades.

My Year of Hopefulness - Sense of Wonder

This morning as I flipped through the latest copy of Fast Company on my way to work, I came across a short article featuring Nicole Lazzaro, a passionate game developer and the designer of Tilt, the first iPhone accelerometer game. She talked about the phenomenon of mobile gaming as having "a lot of curiosity, wonder, and surprise, which is very powerful because wonder is a hard emotion for adults to feel." That statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I then walked into a Starbucks and saw a sign by the cream and sugar area that read something akin to "I wish that adults could dream like children." Coincidence, or is the world giving me something to seriously think about?

Have we let the world make us so bitter that we lost our sense of wonder? If ever there was a time of year that we could, should, and must look around us in wonder, it's Christmas time, a season of dreams, a season that is grounded in faith and belief, even in things that seem impossible. It is a time of miracles. Christmas always arrives just in time to rekindle my spirits and give me fresh hopes and dreams for the new year. Christmas keeps me going.

There are a few traditions I have, things I do that restore my sense of wonder every Christmas. I wanted to share them with you in case you need a bit more dreaming in your life. I'd love to hear yours, too!

1.) I always take a trip down to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. I like to go very late at night or very early in the morning when it's dark out and there aren't many people around. I stare at those lights until they go a little fuzzy and there's a glow across the whole plaza. And then I soak up as much of that glow as possible and carry it with me wherever I go.

2.) When I first moved to New York 11 years ago, I wanted to figure out how to get a job dressing windows at Bergdorf Goodman. Maybe I've seen the movie Mannequin way too many times. There is something so magical about those windows. I'm always amazed that they can top themselves year over year. In 2010, I'm going to find a way to do something for one of those windows. I don't care if it just means tearing up tiny bits of paper that a collage artist uses to make something magnificent - I just want to see the process of how it all comes together!

3.) I walk up to St. John the Divine and light a Christmas candle. I spend some time in the Cathedral mulling over the year that's almost behind me and considering what I'd like to do in the year ahead. I ask God for some help and guidance, and I thank him for continuing to show up in my life in mysterious and surprising ways.

4.) A visit to Balducci's is one of the single greatest memories from my childhood. I would wonder around the store with my sister, Weez, and brother, Joey, and we would take in all of those delicious scents. At Christmas time, the store reminds me of the wonderful heritage I come from.

5.) I make my end-of-year charitable donations: money, clothing, and food items. This simple act reminds me how lucky I am, and how much I can help others.

6.) Prime time TV is bursting with Christmas specials in December. I try to catch The Grinch and Charlie Brown's Christmas at the very least while sipping hot cocoa and remembering how my family used to gather around the TV to watch those very same shows so many years ago. They hold special memories for me.

7.) Christmas concerts of all kinds are happening all over the city this month - I love to stop in to a few of them, especially if it's permissible to sing along! You can also find me spending some amount of time each day in December cranking up Christmas tunes in my apartment and having a little dance party as I rock around my very tiny Christmas tree - Brenda Lee would be proud.

8.) About this time, the weather starts to turn a bit colder. As I get out my winter coat and bundle up, I stop to consider the miracle that here we are on the same planet, with the same sun, moon, and stars, and depending on a slight axis tilt one way or the other, we get a heat wave or a blizzard. Amazing.

9.) The Christmas markets in Columbus Circle and Union Square are some of my favorite places at Christmas time. I get a donut, a cup of apple cider, and browse around for a few unique gifts, all while pretending that I've stepped back in time when markets like these were the primary shopping destinations for gifts.

10.) Marking time is an ancient, sacred act. Before we know it, December 25th will have come and gone from our lives for another year. As I try to rush to get everything done in time for the big day, I remind myself that in every countdown is the embedded message that time is precious. And is there anything more full of wonder than the passing of time itself and our own ability to survive, adapt, and thrive in this ever-changing, challenging world?

Wishing you a season full of wonder-renewing moments!

Book Buddy Letter 2

Dwight, the 3rd grader I write letters to as part of the Learning Leaders Book Buddy program, just sent me his first letter. We are reading Charlotte's Web together and we write letters back and forth at designated points in our reading. As promised, here is Dwight's letter to me, and my letter back to him.

"Dear Christa,
I like writing letters to you, too. This is one of my favorite books, too. I enjoy reading, too. I find inspiration in my reading, too. I grew up in Queens. My favorite part of Charlotte's Web is when Wilbur and Charlotte meet.

Your Book Buddy,
Dwight"

"Dear Dwight,

I enjoyed reading your letter. We have so much in common! We both like to write letters, we both find inspiration in our reading, and we both like meeting new friends.

Another activity I really enjoy is helping my friends and family members, just like Charlotte
helped Wilbur. It is a very special thing to know that we have skills and resources to help someone we care about when they have a problem that they need to solve. I am very close to my family and friends, and they are a very important part of my life.

We are at an interesting point in Charlotte’s Web. Her solution to use her webs to talk about Wilbur was really creative! I like that she chose interesting words and phrases that were very different from how people usually described Wilbur. What did you think of Charlotte’s plan?

Now that they are off to the fair, I wonder if Charlotte will continue putting words into her webs or if she will think of something different to do. Wilbur is really counting on her to help him win the competition at the fair. What do you think her plan for the fair will be?

I’m looking forward to getting your next letter!

Your Book Buddy,

Christa"

These letters remind me of how important it is for children to have adult role models in their lives, people they can talk to about their thoughts and opinions. Articulating our own stories is an underrated skill, and one that I hope I can help Dwight with through these letters.

My Year of Hopefulness - Everyone Can Draw

"If you think you can't draw, too bad. Do it anyway." ~ Tim Brown, CEO of IDEO, in his book Change by Design

I've been lamenting for some time that I can't draw. I'm a much better writer than visual artist, and this is exacerbated because I am an auditory learner, not a visual learner. Thank that's weird? You're right - auditory learners make up only 20% of the population. Add it up and it's easy to understand why I don't have any natural ability to draw, nor have I ever really had a desire to learn.

And then I read Tim Brown's excellent book, Change by Design, that explains his philosophy on design-thinking and the future of the field. He talks about mind maps, schematics that illustrate ideas though visual depictions rather than through written briefs or powerpoint presentations. This is a kind of drawing I can get into. Think of them as multi-dimensional tree diagrams blending pictures and words to illustrate ideas. Rather than just working left to right and using the basic construct of option A or B to progress from problem to solution, a mind map starts with a question that takes the form of "How might we ( fill in the blank)?" for a specific population. For my program with Citizen Schools, I will be asking the kids I work with to solve this dilemma with a mind map "How might we build a public school curriculum for the graders to encourage creativity and entrepreneurship?"

As so often happens, as I was reading Tim's book, I saw an interview with another Tim whom I greatly admire, Tim Burton. He was discussing his views on drawing and creativity and echoed Tim Brown's sentiment. "Every child believes he or she can draw. Too many adults have found their creativity beaten out of them." And this brings me back to my long-held belief that I have only just begun to fully articulate: it is much easier (and effective) to help children maintain their creativity through to adulthood than it is to repair the confidence of adults who believe they have no creativity at all.

The truth is that I've lost confidence in my ability to draw, believing that my creativity is relegated to writing and developing products and not at all to drawing. The Tims helped me realize that I am selling myself short. Somewhere inside me is a visual artist of some sort yearning for a paint brush (or crayon or chalk or colored pencil) and a canvas (or piece of paper or blank wall or empty piece of sidewalk).

So here I go with another resolution to live a more authentic life: even if it's not good, I'm going to draw a little bit every week with the help of my mind maps. I'll let you know, or better yet I'll show you, how it goes by publishing the pieces to this blog. Stay tuned as I re-teach myself to draw.

The image above is not my own; I'm just starting to draw so my pictures aren't this good - yet. It is the image created by Tim Brown for the table of content of his book Change by Design. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - It Takes A Village, or an Army

I've been having a great time in Florida with my niece, Lorelei. I can hardly believe that she'll be 2 in January. I wrote about her on this blog the day that she was born and she has appeared a number of other times in my posts. It's fun to watch her learn and change. My sister and brother-in-law are tired pretty much all the time - Lorelei is always on the go and always curious. She's also somehow inherited insomnia from my mom and I.

While many people say that it takes a village to raise a child, I'd add that it requires a very large village, or in many cases an army. It's amazing how many things Lorelei gets into. Everything from electric outlets to cabinet doors to chairs that are a tiny bit too tall for her. She needs feeding and changing and washing and activities that teach her reading, her colors, her numbers, etc. And the list goes on. She needs an eye on her constantly.

Lorelei is lucky - she has so many people in her life who watch out for her, who love her, and take care of her. Every day, I think about how lucky she is, and how many kids are not so lucky. I think about how many kids don't have a village much less an army. Some don't have anyone at all. This is where we can all come in.

This Fall, I had the opportunity to volunteer teach at one of the best high schools in New York. When I told a friend of mine about the choice I had to make to do that assignment or work on my own program in East Harlem, she said, "Christa, those kids in that high school are fine. They don't need you. They have plenty of advantages. Whether or not you're there won't matter to them. It will matter to those kids in East Harlem. Go where you're needed."

Every day, we have a chance to be a part of a child's village, and it's most important for us to begin building a village for kids who don't have one at all. This might be the greatest challenge of our time. We can be that village, that army, with a small donation of time or money or concern. If we have any interest at all in the future of our planet, in the future of our own children, we have to stand up for other kids who need us.

My Year of Hopefulness - No Choice but to Help

Sometimes people ask me why I feel so called to service, why I feel passionately about giving back, particularly in the areas of education and poverty. Why do I spend time in the South Bronx and East Harlem? Here is the answer in cold, hard data: a study was recently done on the student population of the top 146 countries in the U.S. Over 70% come from the wealthiest 25% of families. Only 3% come from the poorest 25% of families. That's me, down there in the latter group. I went to a top university not once, but twice, and I may be on my way to a third if I'm lucky. I beat the odds, big time.

I learned about this study through Michael Sandel's weekly lecture on Justice. It hit me like a ton of bricks. 3%? Really? My mother always told me I was special, but stats like that don't make me feel special. They make me sad and angry and frustrated. And I've learned that sadness, anger, and frustration are great motivators for change if we harness them properly. That's what I do in my community service - I'm harnessing those feelings and using them to turn around the very situation that made me feel those feelings in the first place. It's my attempt at leveling the playing field.

In this week's Justice class, Sandel talks about the distribution of wealth, a favorite topic of mine and one that I think about every day of my ridiculously blessed life. I constantly wrestle with feelings of pride in my accomplishments, guilt over my lifestyle (which is modest, but good), and the obligation I have to help others who live in the same type of situation I faced as a child. I firmly stand behind the belief that those of great fortune must take on great responsibility.

Shutting ourselves up in our little homes tucked away in safe little neighborhoods is a recipe for disaster. Tom Friedman famously said "if you don't visit the bad neighborhoods, the bad neighborhoods will visit you." (Ironically, or not, Tom Friedman and his wife Ann, are two of the largest donors that make Michael Sandel's free online class possible.) I hold that thought at the front of my mind as much as possible.

Friedman is very clearly stating that the ability to choose our involvement with people who need our help is not a choice at all. We choose by our action or by our failure to act - the choice between these two options effects whether or not our worlds collide in a positive or negative event. There is no way to our worlds from mingling. By being involved, we have the opportunity to make the collision a positive one. The alternative shows up in our prisons and on the sad headlines of papers and news programs across this country.

What keeps me going most of all in my service work is knowing that there were a lot of people who gave of themselves so I could have the education and opportunity I had at Penn and at UVA. There were policy makers and elected officials who fought for my access to student loans at affordable rates. There were donors who made gifts to these universities so that I could be granted financial aid and top quality resources. There were teachers and mentors and staff members who made it the work of their lives to help students get the very best education possible so long as they were willing to work hard.

A lot of people gave an awful lot of themselves to help total strangers like me - I'll never meet them all; I'll never even know all of their names. And still I owe them a huge amount of gratitude. I show that gratitude by paying it forward to others, and I hope the people I help will be willing and able to pay it forward, too. It's the only way we're going to make this world a better place for everyone. We've got to come together; we've got to show up for one another.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Where the Wild Things Are (and Were)

"One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." ~ Andre Gide, Nobel laureate in literature

My sister, Weez, and her family are visiting me for a week. My brother-in-law, Kyle, is a painter and given the cold weather we're having in New York City, this vacation is all about museums. For several weeks, he's been scouting cultural websites to see what exhibits are currently open. One of the exhibits that caught his interest is at the Morgan Library, and includes original sketches, watercolors, and book notes from Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. Being avid fans of children's literature, we stopped in there today to have a look.

I have loved Where the Wild Things Are since I was little. I loved it because of its use of theatre and imagination. Max and his make-believe adventures made me believe that I could travel to distant and strange lands, too. Now as a writer, visiting this exhibit brought a whole new back story to the book. Originally the story was about wild horses, not the Wild Things we have come to know and love. Sendak abandoned the project for many years before completing it. During his first attempt he wrote that the story felt forced so he had to put it aside for now. He kept returning to it again and again to see if the story might flow more easily on another attempt. Eventually, he found an open door. My favorite margin note is "focus on Max." Despite his mastery of storytelling, he had to deal with all of the same anxieties so many other writers deal with: not knowing what comes next, starting a story, dropping it, and picking it back up again at a more suitable time, and the feeling that his focus was sometimes a bit off.

As much as I love Sendak's writing, his thoughts on his writing were even more interesting to me. The exhibit reaffirmed for me that writing is a physical workout in many respects. It's something that must be practiced consistently, even when the writing doesn't come easily. There will be periods of frustration when the words just don't flow the way we'd like them to and that's okay. Focus and commitment is something we must continually strive for, and some times we will need to write ourselves a prescription for them, a reminder of what's really important. And that's okay, too.

It's so easy to think that genius in any form belongs to the few, the gifted. Realizing that people whom I admire so much, such as Sendak, are just ordinary people like me reminds me that there is a little genius in all of us. Within everyone's imaginations, there is a brilliant story, our own Where the Wild Things Are, that is brewing. The land of the Wild Things is always right here beside us. To get it down, we just need to commit to showing up at our computers or at our notebooks with a wide open heart, a good set of ears, and an abundance of patience and determination in equal amounts.

The image above is an illustration by Sendak from Where the Wild Things Are

My Year of Hopefulness - Children's Health Fund

Tonight my friend and colleague, Wayne, took me to the annual meeting for Children's Health Fund (CHF). Knowing my interest in and past experience with nonprofit organizations, he knew I would be interested. What he didn't know, and frankly what I didn't know, is that CHF would be a perfect match for my interests on a variety of levels.

Personally and professionally, the mission of CHF to provide and advocate for quality medical care for every child resonates with me. Due to a drastic change in my family situation when I was a young child, my family lived below the poverty line and without health care for a good number of years. As an undergraduate, I did my senior economics thesis on the quality of healthcare for children below the poverty line living in West Philadelphia; the paper was based on my work-study job assisting one of the lead pediatricians at Children's Seashore House (now a part of The Children's Hospital of Philadelphia). Additionally, I am considering the Public and Urban Policy PhD program at The New School because of my growing interest in inner-city education, and inner-city education requires caring for the whole child, healthcare included. There are certain points in our lives when the stars perfectly align, and tonight felt like one of those nights.

I had the great honor of hearing Karen Redlener, the Executive Director, and her talented staff speak about the 2008 accomplishments of CHF. 70,000 children received medical care through 210,000 patient visits and 613 medical professional received training through CHF's programs in 25 cities across the country. In a time when so many organizations, for-profit and non-profit, are pulling back and remaining cautious, CHF is stepping up their game.

Jane Pauley, one of CHF's dedicated board members and someone I greatly admire, explained why CHF is continuing to push forward and grow their goals as opposed to cutting back. In this recession, fear is everywhere. And while it might at first seem inconceivable that any organization could maintain their funding during this recession much less grow it, CHF keeps looking up and reaching higher.

Why, you ask? The sound barrier. Jane Pauley told the story of the first pilot to break the sound barrier. Previously, when pilots came up against the intense shaking caused by approaching speeds close to the sound barrier, they would pull the throttle back. A fatal mistake. Chuck Yeager did something different - when his plane approached the sound barrier, shaking badly, he pushed the throttle forward, went faster, and broke the sound barrier altogether. He is literal proof that if we press on, despite adversity, there are great rewards to be had when we come out the other side. CHF and Chuck Yeager are of the same mind.

Healthcare has been front page news every day this week; it's been at the top of the Obama agenda for months; it was a major issue in the 2008 Presidential campaign. This is healthcare's moment; this is CHF's moment. For over 20 years, Irwin Redlener and Paul Simon, the co-founders, along with their dedicated, passionate team have been working tirelessly on behalf of children and their right to quality healthcare. The debates are raging on Capitol Hill and across this country. The plane is shaking, and we cannot pull the throttle back. We are so close to breaking through, so close to having quality, affordable care for every American. CHF is continuing to stand its ground with dignity and grace, fortified by the simple belief that all children everywhere have a right to be healthy.

We need them to succeed in this mission. By the end of 2009, 1:5 children in the U.S. will be below the poverty line. 1:5. Of all the facts and figures we review every day, that might be the scariest I've heard. We can't afford to have 20% of our nation's children grow up poor and unhealthy. Think the healthcare of others isn't your problem? Think again. Their future is our future. And they need us. All of us. Someone has to stand up for them if we are to have any hope at all in the future of our nation. CHF is giving it everything they've got, and they need more. They need us. To find out how you can help, visit the Children's Heath Fund website.

My Year of Hopefulness - Walking with Faith Through Egypt

"For we walk by faith, not by sight." ~ 2 Corinthians 5:7

I went to the Egyptian Galleries today at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I've been doing a little bit of fiction writing and needed to collect some research on Egypt. I suppose I could have could just looked it up on-line though it was a gorgeous day, I wanted to walk through the park, and there is not substitute for seeing the treasures of Egypt right in front of us.

The Egyptian Galleries are well-known as one of the favorite attractions for kids to the Met. The fiction piece I'm writing is actually for a young adult audience so I must admit that a little of my motivation was some good eaves dropping. Kids, of course, were fascinated by the mummies. "There's a dead person in there?" I heard numerous times. Followed invariable by the parents saying "yes" and the kids responding "cool". (For the record, that was my response in my mind, too.) They also loved the myriad of figurines, depictions of dogs, and all the fancy gold jewelry that literally glowed within the display cases. I easily saw a dozen kids striking a pose that matches the many Egyptian etchings that lined the walls of the galleries. I wanted to do that too, though I knew it wouldn't be as endearing an act for a 33 year old as it is for a 10 year old, so I held myself back.

To write fiction, we have to hang out with our characters, walk around with them, see the world through their eyes as well as our own. In this action, there are bits of dialogue that surface. We learn about the experiences of our characters the same way we get to know a new friend or someone we've just started dating. A little at a time, we learn where they've been, what they've seen, and where they hope their lives will go. I just walk beside them silently, recording everything.

There's a lot of faith involved in writing fiction. At the top of a blank page, we're never quite sure where we'll end up by the time we reach the bottom of that page. We have to be generous and patient and let the story unfold naturally, taking comfort that it will go exactly the way it's supposed to. It's a mystical process.

Our lives are kind of like fiction writing, too. We might have some kind of basic outline for what we'd like to do and where we'd like to go, though the details of how we color in the lines is largely spontaneous. We meet new and interesting characters along the way, we veer off in many different directions, take advantage of one opportunity and then pass on another. We travel, we experience, we remain open to things that are new and strange and beautiful. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I see that living life really is exactly like writing fiction. We fumble around in the dark, not knowing exactly what is in front of us, forging ahead with only the faith and belief that the road we're on is exactly where we are meant to be. All we must do is be present. The story, and our very lives, will unfold around us.

My Year of Hopefulness - Citizen Schools

Yesterday, October 7th, was a decisive turning point for me. Amazing since September 30th, exactly one week ago, was a really bad day on a lot of levels. On the 30th, I went out with my friends, Jeff and Brian, to a local restaurant in our neighborhood. After hearing Christa Avampato's a series of unfortunate events, he told me about his philosophy of life. "It's a sine wave."

On the 30th, I was decidedly at the bottom of the trough. The only good thing about being there is that the only way to move forward is up. Oscar Wilde said, "We're all lying in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars." Today, my stars took shape as Citizen Schools.

For five months I've been writing an education pilot proposal, Innovation Station, that uses theatre to teach inner-city middle school kids in New York City about innovation, product development, and entrepreneurship through an after-school program. Yesterday, the proposal was accepted to be part of Citizen Schools, an organization that supports community members teaching what they’re passionate about to middle school students in public schools all around the country. I go into training in January and will begin the pilot in February in East Harlem. I’ll be blogging about the class (of course!) so that people who are interested in it can follow the progress. You’ll also be able to follow the progress of it on my Facebook and Twitter accounts.

The similarities to what I want to do and what Citizen Schools already supports are truly miraculous. A dream come true! They provide curriculum writing support, in-classroom support for every session, webinars, connection to the school. All the classes conclude with the WOW! Showcase - a series of presentations where the students demonstrate mastery over the material they learned to a panel of experts in the field of the project. The sessions are photographed, filmed, and publicized on the organization's website. All of the things I asked for in my proposal Citizen School provides to every program they support, and then some! It's incredible!

I have to publicly thank my friend, Cari, for suggesting that I reach out to Citizen Schools. 10 days after I spoke with Cari, I’m now officially a Citizen Teacher in training, and I couldn't be happier! I also need to thank a few friends who provided amazing feedback on the proposal at its earliest stages: Liz, Amy, Cindy, Steve, Elizabeth, and the lovely ladies on Owning Pink. Without your valuable input, the proposal would have never been approved because I probably would have never submitted it. Your encouragement kept me going. And to Laura, my amazing writing and business partner, who when I asked her if I could really write this said simply, "of course you can" and promptly moved on to another topic because me doubting myself was just not okay on her watch, or ever for that matter.

Originally, I had set out to print the proposal and send it out to a bunch of schools for review on Saturday, September 5th, the very day that my apartment building caught fire. Obviously, I didn't get around to that. My original plan was not meant to be. And thank goodness. This scenario with Citizen Schools is so much better than my original plan of trying myself to get an individual school to sign up for the pilot.

This process has been a great lesson in stepping up and in not over-thinking a situation and an outcome. We can ask ourselves a million times if we're ready for a certain situation - be it professional or personal. Am I ready for this job, this change, this relationship, this move, this challenge? And the answer is no, we're never ready. And that's okay. By not being ready, we are authentic, we are open to the magic that the world offers our ideas if only we have the courage to articulate them.

I learned through this experience that sometimes we need to shut up and just do. Forget about the if's and but's. We will deal with them when they present themselves. There are people in the world who need the power of our ideas and dreams. We cannot allow our own insecurities to deny them our talents. 'Perfect' is the greatest enemy of 'good'. And good will do just fine.

My friend, Lon, reminded me recently about the fire that closed the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. This year, the repairs were completed and the Cathedral re-opened, more sacred and beautiful than it was before. In a way, I feel like my life and Innovation Station have gone through the same trial by fire. Some things destroyed and re-built emerge more beautiful.

My Year of Hopefulness - How a Dime Makes a Difference with a FEED 100 Bag

I arrived home last night to my ordinary neighborhood after a mostly ordinary day at the office. I walked down a few blocks to Whole Foods with the intention of picking up dinner and going back to my apartment to watch NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams – one of my favorite weeknight activities. (Nerdy, I know. I can’t help it. I’m addicted to the news, and I love the “Making a Difference” segment.)

After filling up my little basket, I headed to the cash register where the woman who was ringing up my groceries asked if I’d like to buy a FEED 100 Bag, a reusable shopping bag made from 100% organic cotton and sustainable burlap. Hmmm…I had seen these before though wasn’t totally sure what the deal was. They used to be $30. They’re now $10, and wait until you hear what they do!

For $10, you provide 100 hungry children in Rwanda with a nutritious school meal through the UN World Food Program (WFP). A single dime per child. 400,000,000 children go to bed every night hungry. And that pain of hunger is devastating. I know first hand. When I was a kid, we struggled financially and my brother, sister, and I often went to bed hungry, and scared, and feeling alone. We had free and reduced-price lunch for most of my childhood and I can guarantee that this program was one of the huge blessings that saved me. Literally. With that meal, I was able to pay more attention to my studies, which earned me good grades, which helped me to go college and graduate school, which helped me build a good, successful life.

A lot of people look at school statistics like “75% of children at this school receive free lunch” and see it as just that – a statistic. A number on an Excel spreadsheet. When I see these numbers, I see me, and my brother, and my sister, and a lot of people in my hometown who grew up just like us. This tiny contribution of $10 makes a difference, I assure you.

I arrived home from an ordinary day and I had the opportunity to do something extraordinary. A very small act that will make a very big difference. I helped 100 kids around the world have a chance to follow in my same path to happier, healthier days. You can, too. FEED 100 Bags are available at Whole Foods nationwide.

My Year of Hopefulness - In the Beginning

"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning." ~ Louis L'Amour

Today marked an end and then a beginning, in one single action. After almost a year of considering how I might help children in public schools in New York City, I mailed off two packages, one to Bronx Charter School for the Arts and one to M.S. 223. Inside the packages is a folder with a cover letter, my resume, and an 8-page concept paper that outlines an after-school program that I'd like to pilot beginning in January 2010. The after-school program uses theatre to teach innovation, product development, and entrepreneurship to 6th grade students.

The journey to the concept paper was a long and winding road:

Early Summer of 2008

Began to consider how I could build an on-line innovation kit for kids

August 2008

Changed jobs and got involved in an at-work volunteer program with Junior Achievement of New York. Wondered if I missed my calling and should become a public school teacher.

December 5, 2008

Volunteered for a day-long program at M.S. 223 in the Mott Haven neighborhood of the South Bronx. Felt scared, responsible, and at home, all at once. I taught economics for a day to 7th graders. I got more of an education than the students did that day. Have been thinking about those kids every day since.

May 17, 2009

Started building my first draft of the concept paper, initially named "Innovation Workbook". It was terrible. I was afraid to show it to anyone because I'd thought they'd laugh at the idea. Put my fears aside and kept working.

June 3, 2009

Wrote the first draft of a mission statement, or what I termed "A Reason for Being". It was awful, though I began to think that I might be on to something.

mid-June 2009

Began to talk to some friends about the concept. No one laughed; they got very excited about the idea and that got me more excited. They had great ideas. I used all of them to build a better concept. My friend, Liz, offered the idea to make this an after-school program rather than try to build it in to the traditional curriculum.

July 4th weekend, 2009

I started sending a rough draft of the concept paper to my friends who offered their ideas and were excited about the project. I knew the paper was terrible but the idea was getting better. My friends offered more help, more advice. The concept kept getting better.

July 23, 2009

Named the project Innovation Station while laying on my couch, unsuccessfully trying to take a nap. Decided to use short theatre scripts as a way to communicate the material.

Early August 2009

While reading the book, Eiffel's Tower, decided to feature famous innovators throughout history as part of Innovation Station.

August 2009

Continued to revise the concept paper, did more research. Many friends suggested I dig into data to prove the need and value of my program. Was startled by the statistics I read about after-school programming and public school education in inner-cities. Kept shopping around my ideas and taking any and all suggestions. Wrote 8 full drafts in total.

September 15, 2009

Heard about Bronx Charter School for the Arts. Researched them and thought they may be a good fit for Innovation Station. Put them on the very short list with M.S. 223.

September 22, 2009, afternoon

Made a few last minute edits, and dropped the proposals in the mail to M.S. 223 and Bronx Charter School for the Arts in the hopes that one of them will be the pilot program location.

September 22, 2009, evening

Waiting. Hoping. Nervous Excited.

My friend, Jamie, went to the post office with me to put the packages in the mail. I adore him, even though he can be a little curmudgeonly at times. He is exceedingly generous with help, advice, and contacts, despite his rough around the edges personality. It comes from being so brilliant and highly educated. He is one of the friends I count on to keep me grounded. I try to add more whimsy into his life. "So what do you do now?" he asked. I hadn't thought of what I'd do now; I guess I have been worried that I'd just edit myself to the point of being paralyzed. I never imagined myself sealing up the envelopes and dropping them in the mail. I guess I was worried that I'd never figure it out. "I wait," I said to Jamie.

This morning, my old friends, Fear and Self-ridicule, were back with a vengeance. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe it would never help anyone. Maybe no school would ever be interested. Who am I to think I can write curriculum? I began reading and editing again. And something truly miraculous happened. As I re-read the proposal, I got more excited. I began to think that maybe, maybe, maybe this was the beginning on the a life-changing road for me. Just as I was finishing the proposal, I thought "this might be the beginning of something really exciting. I just might be able to help some kid who's facing the same circumstances I faced when I was that age." And with that thought I sealed up the packages and headed for the post office.

Fearing that I'd have a last minute panic attack, I quickly put the packages under the slotted window for the postman to grab and stamp. There was no turning back once he tossed them into the bin. And away they went, into the abyss of mail, on a very simple mission to try to make a difference in one kid's life. I ran for the door and never looked back. I had to get on with my beginning.

My Year of Hopefulness - Motivation and The Little Prince

"If you want to build a ship, don't herd people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea." ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I love The Little Prince. It was one of my favorite books as a child. I love his wide-eyed questioning of life, and his desire to explore things that are strange and unexplained. As children often do, he was able to make connections between seemingly disparate activities and relationships, and in the process showed us how to think about our lives in a larger context than just our day-to-day collection of tasks. He asks us to consider our role in and contribution to humanity as a whole.

I was thinking about The Little Prince this morning, eating my Cheerios and looking at the water towers that dot my view from my apartment. The water towers look like brave guards, standing watch; they almost seem to breathe. They make me feel safe. The city looks so different from 17 floors up. I'm always struck by that - as I get down to the street-level, my neighborhood transforms. Up above, I have the ability to be more idealistic. The height helps me dream and consider my larger motivations in life, apart from the actual tasks I'm engaged in; it helps me think like the Little Prince.

This quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupery is helping me frame up my own desired contribution to humanity. I want to help as many people as I can to use their creativity to improve our world. That's not going to happen in a business plan; it's not going to happen through mandates and time lines and a to-do list. It can happen if I follow Antoine de Saint-Exupery's advice in every area of my life, with every interaction I have with every person I know and meet. It's that desire to play a part in building a better world that I must foster in all of my relationships. Individuals will find their own way to make a contribution. They all have their own talents and interests that can be used toward this common goal; my role is to be their biggest cheerleader, their champion, their advocate, and where applicable, their guide.

My Year of Hopefulness - Dreaming in Bits and Pieces

“The end of wisdom is to dream high enough to lose the dream in the seeking of it." ~ William Faulkner, American novelist

Now that life is returning to normal, I’m turning my attention back to my education project. I’m in the early stages of contacting public schools to find one that will serve as a pilot test. In a nutshell, I am looking to use theatre as a tool to teach innovation and product development to 6th graders at New York City public schools. The program will be of no cost to the school or to the children who participate. I just need a space, an internet connection (if possible), and 10 curious 6th graders. I would personally finance the pilot. The idea is to run it for 12 weeks beginning in January of 2010.

At this point I’ve had about 15 people read the proposal and provide their feedback and suggestions. Their creativity and excitement has spurred me even further. They’re helping me dream bigger, far beyond the pilot. Just as Faulkner suggested, this thinking bigger has allowed me to move beyond just seeing this program as a dream. It’s something that I must do. It’s quickly becoming my greatest passion, and that’s exactly what I need to happen in order to get it off the ground.

For the past few days, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. Things I see and experience and read are all tying back to this dream. This morning I was so excited about it that I could barely stay in my chair at my computer. I’m getting little inputs from everywhere – what schools I could partner with, what material I should include, what mechanisms I should use to deliver the material. Like small interconnected building blocks, all these bits and pieces are fitting together, filling in the canvas I’m dreaming on.

The more I consider the pilot program, the more I realize that it is inevitable. All the clues I’m picking up are showing me that there is much more need for this program than I ever realized. It began as this tiny speck of an idea, and the more I nurture it and love it, the more new opportunities it presents. It’s the most beautiful thing about ideas and dreams, and people for that matter: the more care you put into them, the more understanding and freedom you provide to them, the lovelier and more viable they become. They reveal mysteries to you that you never even knew were possible.

The image above is not my own. It can be found on the Cardiomyopathy Association site.

My Year of Hopefulness - Value we can't see

A week ago, I found myself in Barnes & Noble nosing around in the children's fiction department. In order to begin working on the scripts for my education program, I wanted to get a feel for a 6th grader's vocabulary, sentence structure, and plot complexity. I was wandering around the store feeling underwhelmed. Where were all of the good children's books?

And then just as I was leaving a small set of books caught my eye. Published by Scholastic, Blue Balliett wrote a set of kids mystery books that involve several main characters that carry over in the series. I picked up The Wright 3, a book about three 6th grade friends who find themselves in a race to save the Robie House, Frank Lloyd Wright's Chicago masterpiece, from demolition. I found it oddly comforting over this last week because of several key messages it offers in a very forthright fashion - just the way that kids do.

1.) "Don't give up. In darkness, much work can be accomplished." I think about how much darkness was in that stairwell of my old apartment building during the fire. So much raced through my mind as I scrambled down the stairs - from "stop drop and roll" to things I never got a chance to say people whom I care about to "I will get out of this building unharmed". In darkness, we develop a keen sense of sight and insight for things that we cannot see in broad daylight.

2.) "Sometimes when you lose something, you end up getting something else. Only you can't know about the second thing until you've lost the first...losing is sometimes gaining." It's human nature to lament a loss of any kind whether it's our home, our belongings, our jobs, a relationship. What's so often under-appreciated is that losing something makes room for something new, and often better than what we had before, and it gives us a new appreciation for the things and people we do have in our lives. It takes a while to see that trade-off as a good one. In the past I have hung on to a sense of loss for far too long. I am trying to change that.

3.) "It's sometimes hard to tell the line between real and unreal." This world and the energies it contains work in mysterious ways. Magic and things that cannot be explained are constantly at work. Our life is full of coincidences. People appear in our lives, then disappear, then reappear again. An opportunity comes around, we may pass on it, and then it comes around again for a second and third chance. This world always has something to teach us.

4.) "Sometimes little things can appear big, and big things little." This idea is especially powerful for me this week. I used to think I needed so many things. My apartment was filled with things I loved, things I could not imagine living without. In the end very little of it mattered. Actually, none of it really matters too much. My health and the people I love are really the only things that matter to me now.

5.) "What you notice first isn't always what you're looking for." This is my favorite idea from The Wright 3. We're so quick to judge, categorize and title a person, place, or thing. And sometimes the value we connote to an item or a person isn't permanent. Some things and people become more valuable to us with time, and it can be a long, slow process to figure out just what the right value should be. We owe it to ourselves to give things and people a chance to prove their worth. The reality of a situation is not always what it initially presents itself to be.

My Year of Hopefulness - One Life at a Time

"It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people's minds." ~ Sam Adams

It's a glorious thing to get to live a day exactly the way we want it to be. This weekend, I'll be trying on the costume of a full-time entrepreneur. I'm getting ready to send my after-school program proposal to public school principals. Checking every "i" and "t" in the proposal, researching the best fit schools to target, and beginning to write the curriculum. I'm already fantasizing about spending tomorrow at my kitchen table, writing while the afternoon sun softly filters through the windows. It will be glorious.

Except when I'm scared, which I often am, when considering this proposal. If I think for too long about the task before me, my stomach starts doing back flips and my eyes well up. There are so many kids who have so little and need so much. I'm one person, with one little project. What kind of impact will that have when I consider that I want to reach hundreds of thousands, millions, of kids around the world? I am one small person. When I'm alone, this thought comes to the forefront of my mind and is undeniable.

I was just on the phone with someone, explaining why this project is so important, why it matters, and why I have to do this now. As I spoke, I felt the strength rising within me, the tears of frustration turned to tears of possibility and hope and dreams realized. And then he said something to me that I wish I could box up and carry around with me forever. Something that Jane Goodall communicated last night, too. He said that while I might need to pour everything I've got into this curriculum, that's only half of the program. The other half will be the love I give while teaching. Love I can give - I know I'm good at that. So now I know I'm already halfway there.

Last night, the 92Y had a slide show running with quotes and photos of Jane Goodall pertaining to her work around the world. One quote that struck me so hard was one in which she talked about having goals with a wide-reaching impact. "Although the challenges seem daunting at times, this is ultimately the only way to make lasting change – one life at a time." My pilot program is for 10 kids, barely a drop in the bucket compared to how many need this program. My hope is that those 10 will help others in turn, and so on. We'll use leverage and multiplicative efforts to achieve this ideal of helping every kid grow up to be a productive, creative, empowered adult.

Yes the challenges are daunting. They're downright overwhelming. I know in my heart that we can do this, that a small group of passionate people can start to set the world going in the right direction. Simply put, that's all I'm trying to do.

My Year of Hopefulness - Doing What We've Never Done

All week I've been trying to write curriculum for my after-school pilot program. I'm not a trained teacher. I've tutored and I've volunteered in classrooms. Mostly, I've just been up there at the wipe board (apparently the blackboards and chalk of my youth are long-since gone) winging it.

Rather than writing curriculum, I've been staring at a very blank white screen on my laptop, complete with blinking cursor. And that little tiny voice, the one I just dread, decides to show up at the most inopportune time to make me feel even worse. "Who are you to be writing curriculum?" it says. "You don't know how to do that." And as much as I want to turn down that volume, the voice grows louder, adding more doubts, more concerns, and more insecurity to my already frazzled mind. I have no idea what I'm doing. There's no denying that.

At 11:00 last night, I closed down my laptop without having written a single word. "The voice was right," I thought. "Who do I think I am? An untrained "teacher" writing curriculum. I can't do this." I did what I often do when I'm frustrated with my writing. I read. The latest issue of Yoga Journal just arrived in my mailbox so I cracked it open and began reading from page one.

There is a belief in yoga, and I believe in Buddhism as well, that the Universe will provide us with the exact teaching we need exactly when we need it. Kaitlin Quistgaard, the Editor of Yoga Journal, wrote this month's editorial note about how to show up for life and begin something we want to do even if we aren't sure how to do it. "It seemed like a life lesson designed to show me the value of doing my part, even if I don't know what to do," she says of a recent incident she had. This sounds like valuable ammunition against that little voice that was doubting me. I keep reading.

A few pages later, I come across an article by Julia Butterfly Hill who talks about finding your purpose and growing with it. Hmmm...sounds like another good one. The whole article is one beautiful quote after another. "Who am I supposed to be in my life?...what do you want your legacy to be?...We approach everything backward...we live in a production-driven society rather than a purpose-driven society." And here's my favorite line that I'm considering having made into a t-shirt: "We don't have to know how to do something before we begin it." Though I'm a product developer, paid to produce, I am much more concerned with living my life with purpose than with things.

So that's it - that's all I needed to know to silence the little voice nagging at me. It's true - I don't know how to write a curriculum. I don't know what material will resonate with the kids I want to teach. I don't know how to actually do anything related to this project. I do know that I am a fast learner, and that I was born not knowing much of anything except how to breath, (and even that breathing isn't something we do consciously!) I do know that I want to live in a world where every child has the opportunity to learn anything and everything that interests them. I want them all to grow up happy, healthy, safe, and excited about the possibilities that lay before them. I want them all to have a chance at a good and decent life. And that's more than enough purpose to keep going.

The photo above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - New Life

Today my friends, Alex and Shawn, welcomed a new baby boy into the world. 7 and a half pounds, 19 and a half inches of new, beautiful, perfect, healthy life. Alex and Shawn will be amazing parents. They're the funniest couple I know. Their love story is one of my favorites. Having met their freshman year of college, they've gone through so many life changes, together and apart. After more than a decade together, they remain intensely interested in the other's interests and they support one another endlessly in all their pursuits. Spending time with them has always made me feel optimistic about the fate of love and marriage.

And now they begin this new piece of their history with a new member of their family. I went to Providence a few weeks ago for the baby shower, and they were both so happy. Though neither of them seemed stressed or worried or afraid. This was just another great event in their lives.

With everything we hear in the news about the difficulty of remaining in love, raising kids, and keeping a marriage strong and healthy, it's easy to feel like it's just not possible to have all three. And then I watch Alex and Shawn and realize that marriage and family and love are what you make of them. Too often we imagine that they are entities unto themselves that we have no control over, as if our own feelings of love live outside of us, independent of the rest of our lives. What's amazing about Alex and Shawn is that their love resides firmly at the center of their lives, while also giving them the confidence and freedom to pursue their own independent ventures, too. It's really something to behold, especially when you consider how young they were when they first met.

I can say with certainty that their son is one of the luckiest little guys in the world. He has these incredible parents who will provide such a prime example of what love can and should be. I can't stop smiling when I think about how much happiness he will know in his life. All kids should be so lucky.

The photo above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Rich in Time

"An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth." ~Bonnie Friedman

I am obsessed with time. Spending time. Saving time. Wasting time. The perception of time. The concepts of aging and growing and changing over time. And of course, the ultimate time question - how much time do we have left? Time is the only asset we ever truly own because we determine its value and worth.

The aspect of time that intrigues me the most is one I first learned in my college economics classes - leverage. How do I use my time as wisely as possible to do the most good I can? How do I get the maximum impact with the minimum amount time? The odd unintended blessing of losing a parent so young is that I stare my mortality in the face every day. If I want to accomplish everything I want to do, I have to utilize the idea of leverage. Our days pass too quickly, our time is too precious, to start every new idea from scratch.

The point Bonnie Friedman raises in her quote is one that leaves me scratching my head. I am always in a hurry - walking down the street, getting my errands done, eating, writing. I zip through as fast as possible so I can get on to what's next. Where I struggle is how to enjoy each activity without thinking about what's next? How can I be in the moment, this moment, every moment, without causing myself unintended stress from hurrying from point A to point B and back again?

My fear is that I'm missing out. I was recently telling my sister, Weez, that I really wanted to do something and her immediate response was, "let's face it: if you decide you're really going to do something, you make it happen." At that point my question to myself was, "at what cost?" The trouble that over-committers like me face is this: how do I say no without feeling guilty? When there are so many people out there who need what we all have to offer, when I see so many ways for me to make things better, how do I decide this thing is important and needs my attention and that one does not?

The education program I'm working on has actually helped me begin to find some answers to these questions. I've been kicking around this idea, writing drafts of the white paper, meeting with potential partners, and asking for honest feedback on the idea from friends and colleagues since April. And every time I sit down to work on it, every time the idea even crosses my mind, I get a little jolt of energy and excitement that keeps on growing. The more I work on it, the more alive I feel. I'm so certain I can make a difference in this way, with this curriculum, that there isn't any way that I can conceive of turning back now. I feel about this project the way that I feel about my writing - it's becoming a very integral part of who I am.

And maybe that's the trick. Maybe all our hurrying is caused by our desire to find where we belong. Once we find it, we can enjoy this wealth of unhurried time, as Bonnie Friedman suggests, because there is no 'next'. We're here, where we always wanted to be.

My dad was a clinical psychologist and his work was his life. He never felt hurried in his office, at his great mahogany desk surrounded by his books and papers and patients. He loved his studies in that field more than he loved anything. It may have been his only love now that I think of it. In some way, I sort of feel like this education project is helping me understand him, helping me see why his work was so important to him.

His last job before leaving the work force was as a school psychologist in Harlem. I always wondered why he was so eager to hop on a train that took him to the big City to help other kids while my mother was left to work and raise us on her own. Now that I've spent some time in public schools in New York, I understand. The problems and challenges are so great, and the opportunity to do something good in that environment is immense. The impact is immediate. Like him, I keep thinking about those tiny faces and those solemn eyes who wanted assurances that I would be back to see them again. He couldn't let them down. I can't either.

Though he's been gone now 17 years, perhaps there is a way for me to still get to know him. Perhaps this drive to do some good in the public schools of New York City is much more than just my way of giving back. And maybe this is some kind of calling that's coming from afar, some way to continue work, albeit in a different vein, that was begun so many years ago by my dad and the many people who were doing this work long before him. It's a way to leverage the work of the past to create brighter futures, my own and the kids I hope to help. No hurrying required, and much wealth to gain.

The photo above can be found here.