Month: March 2017

Joe Moore, a local television personality, used to host a show on Hawaii Public Radio called Moore Mozart. Mozart was a special passion for Moore, and he was telling this story to a crowd of classical music lovers.

“I called it Moore Mozart because I was young and boastful,” Moore said. “If I were to do it know, I would call it Mozart and Moore. I’m no longer young.”

I don’t think I was alone in reflecting on, as I laughed at his humor, how his self-judgment might be mine as well. Boastfulness can be a hard habit to break, and I’m not sure that I have completely kicked the habit.

I had an inkling of that during one of the class meetings for the Ed.D. program in which I serve as a mentor and dissertation reader. For this meeting, we were asking the students to discuss what object or piece of writing might capture their understanding of their leadership experiences or style. To get the ball rolling, three mentors identified an artifact that represented in some way the leadership experiences of our lives.

I chose a card in my wallet, a bit rumpled because it has been there since 1964, on which Miss Delight Smith, Girls’ Vice Principal at San Diego High School had typed:

Knowledge is proud that he knows so much.

Wisdom is humble that he knows so little.

I went on to explain that, according to family lore and the probable testimony of what friends I had, I held myself in very high esteem in my early years. Dad used to warn me about “tooting my own horn.”

Since those times, I have come to see bragging as one sure sign of a lack of self-confidence. I can’t psychoanalyze my self of sixty years ago but I can believe that, for some reason, I did lack self-confidence then. Socially, because I had skipped a grade, I know I felt that I had to work hard to belong with my classmates.

But, I told the cohort members that day, I apparently was impressed enough with my own academic prowess that Miss Smith decided I needed a reminder about knowledge and wisdom. After all, I said, I was the valedictorian…

(At this point, one of the cohort member said “toot,” and we all laughed.)

…so I thought I was entitled to be impressed with myself.

The student’s toot was a great reminder that old habits die hard.

The lesson on my wallet card is, I think, an aspiration more than an achievement. Finding the right balance between self-effacement and appropriate pride of accomplishment is probably a lifetime struggle. I told the cohort that the way I could approach in leadership positions the aspiration Miss Smith set for me was to remember how many people made it possible for me to be where I was when I was doing that I was doing. It also helped to put faces on the people who might be affected by whatever I did or decided.

I concluded my talk to the cohort with a story. People of a Certain Age, we all have stories like these that comprise the narrative of our lives. Recall some of them from time to time. My stories often involve luck.

This one comes from when Judy, Larry Caster, and I were working to get Island Pacific Academy opened. We thought that a school ought to have a motto, like the one we had at the Webb Schools in California, “principes non homines,” “leaders, not just men.” We thought the IPA slogan should be in the Hawaiian language. But what to write?

We looked at several options and liked the motto of one school on the mainland, “go forward with confidence.” We asked an experienced Hawaiian language expert to give us a translation and got back “I Mua Me Ka Ha’aheo.” We liked it for a couple of reasons: we believe that a major added value of independent school education is that students emerge with self-confidence. And, we thought that the motto captured the confidence with which we were launching a new school. The motto has stuck, and we’re happy about that.

A few years later, another Hawaiian friend said to us, you know, ha’aheo, like so many words in the Hawaiian language, has several meanings. One of them is “humble pride.” What good luck!

That’s quite a concept, humble pride. It is great that a language has a word for it. Why shouldn’t any person be proud if she has successfully treated the sick or enacted legislation that helps people? Why can’t a fellow feel proud to have invented something useful or been a good dad? Pride gets a bad rap because of its excesses.

Temper the pride with humility. Acknowledge the blessings to your life that have enabled accomplishment. Pay homage to one’s collaborators. Understand that we did not endow ourselves with our unique array of talents.

I think ha’aheo might have appealed to Miss Delight Smith.

Daniel E. White

March 20, 2017

On the way into the Rotary meeting, I met up with the Past President. She asked how I was. I said fine and asked her in return. I thought she looked tired. She said, “you know, I almost didn’t come tonight. I’ve been to so many meetings today. This felt like just one more meeting.”

Then she brightened. “But this one is different. I can just enjoy the people.” And she seemed to, especially the high school Interact members who spoke to our club.

The next morning, I awoke at the usual hour after an unsatisfying night’s sleep. No reason for the fretfulness. No special worries. No vivid or disturbing dreams. Sleep just didn’t meet my expectations. I laid in bed thinking about all the things I should be doing. That, of course, added to my inclination to stay put.

I watched the sun rise over the Koolau Mountains, streaming into the room. Soon, it was hot lying in bed. So I got up, without any drive. Some days are like that; bathed in blah.

Soon enough I found my rhythm and prepared to work at my desk. Awaiting me was an e-mail response to my piece about balance some time back. A high school classmate told me about how he and his wife had taken a young Hispanic girl under their wings. Their son knew about this girl. So did they, because she was proving herself to be a talented athlete whose talent might be the ticket for higher education.

Her family circumstances were tough—little income, large number of children, no history of college attendance. My classmate and his son facilitated community college team scouting trips to watch the girl play. Prospects are promising.

Without doubt, her life had the potential to turn out differently because of the efforts of my classmate and his family. He described his efforts for her as providing balance in his life. For me, that was a chicken skin moment. The day was getting better.

That evening, Judy and I had dinner with another high school classmate. She and her husband were on their way to New Zealand for vacation. We swapped stories about what we had all been doing for the last 50 years or so. Forced to work during her senior year, she couldn’t attend classes with us but the school permitted her to participate in graduation with the rest of her classmates.

She described various jobs she held until she was asked to substitute for a friend of hers in a school with classes for special needs children. She said that brief experience gave her ideas about how kids with such needs could be helped in ways not then being used. Having vowed never to become a teacher, she went back to school to get the needed credentials to begin a career of work with kids with the whole range of needs, youngsters others often felt to be difficult to work with.

Her successes provided children and families with educational experiences that they had no reason to expect they would enjoy. She even became the initiator of a particular form of competition in Special Olympics, taking the time to teach herself about athletic competition, unknown to her before.

Our friend was, in short, a transformational figure in scores of lives because she took an interest, saw possibilities that others did not, made an effort.

What are the chances that, on the same day, I would hear about the extraordinary things two of my high school classmates had accomplished? That turned blah into wow!

There might be some among you People of a Certain Age who have never experienced blah, whose aumakua (in Hawaiian culture, something like a totem or family spirit, like a shark or turtle) is the Energizer Bunny. You might not be able to relate to my Rotarian friend or me.

I bet, though, that all of you know stories about extraordinary things done for others by ordinary people. And, if you are like me, just such stories—or some effort on my part to help someone else—are the surest way out of blah.

I was reminded of something attributed to Woody Allen: “90% of life is just showing up.” I found out that James Kok has published a book with a variation—“90% of Helping is Just Showing Up.” I’ve not read the book. But I accept the premise of its title. So many times, by virtue of just being there for someone, care and empathy are clear.

I also know that 90% is not 100%. The final 10% is usually crucial.

The young girl has needed the additional 10% from my classmate. My special education stalwart did more than just show up. Yet you cannot do the 10% that makes the difference if you have not shown up.

After she told me what she almost did not do, my Rotarian friend asked me if I ever felt that way. The very next morning, I did. I see those low moments as a price of life. I cannot be “up” all the time.

I can will myself to show up, though. Who knows what can happen then?

Daniel E. White

March 6, 2017