I Quit

When I was in 4th grade my homeroom class began a unit on poetry.

I was excited.

I had been writing poetry on my own time purely for the fun of it for a couple years by that point. I gave the poems to family members, or simply kept them for my own enjoyment.

We were given the first assignment and I went home and began working on it that very evening. I loved to turn the words over and over in my mind, finding combinations that rhymed while also evoking a meaning or sensibility that interested me.

I turned in the fruits of my work, a true labor of love, at the end of the week. I will never forget my 4th grade teacher’s words to me when she finished reading it:

“This is plagiarism. You copied this.”

I beamed. I felt a thrill of pride sing through my heart. She was so impressed by my skill, that she was praising my work by exaggerating that it was good enough to be copied from a real poet.

She frowned down at me. “You copied this, didn’t you? Answer me!”

I froze. My heart turned into a stone and sank into my stomach. She actually believes I copied this poem, I realized.

It didn’t matter how much I protested, or how vehemently. She gave me an F on the assignment and called my parents to talk it over with them. In the end, my parents believed me and took my side, but I still missed recess for a couple days as punishment.

I recall this memory so vividly for a number of reasons, one of which is this:

It was the very first time I experienced a grown-up in a position of power and responsibility who is dead, flat, completely wrong.

It shook me up, bruised ego aside, to realize that these big, lumbering humans can be just as fallible as any child.

It opened my eyes to see the possibility that the world built by these big children, these parents and lawmakers and priests and businessmen, could sometimes be a system capable of profound mistakes.

It was that day in 4th grade that I began a journey to quit caring what anybody thinks about me. What follows are the ways that I continue my journey each day to quitting caring what anybody thinks about me or my family.

 

1. Screen Time

Unlike my spiteful, wounded 4th grade attitude, I now quit caring what anybody thinks with an attitude of intentionality, mindfulness and compassion for others

We limit screen time in our home. Our kids have zero access to mobile devices. That’s zero, with an aught. They can watch a few selected shows sparingly and only with no commercial interruptions. They have no access to video games and they don’t watch the latest Disney movie.

But I don’t pretend to believe that my way is the best and only way that any and every child should be raised. Why is that? Because I was most definitely not raised this way.

I watched way more than 40 hours of TV every week. Way more. Every violent cartoon and 80’s TV show you can name. Literally thousands of hours of TV and commercials every year, during my most formative years.

As soon as I got my hands on a Nintendo Entertainment System for my birthday in 2nd grade I became instantly, irrevocably addicted. My parents tried to limit my time in front of the NES, but I used every tactic at my disposal to get my fix.

In many ways, it was a different time. We didn’t know back then what we know now about how harmful these seemingly-innocuous pastimes can be for children. Especially when they are taken to extremes. My parents and I were in our own universe together, just like every family, and we found our own balance in that universe.

And I know that superb parents and families across the world are each in their own universe, too. The methods that work for them in their universe may not look like the methods that work for us in ours.

In fact, one method in many families’s universe might be to look at the methods we use in our family’s universe and decide that we are Fruit Loops.

I take the view that everybody who draws breath is and should be entitled to his opinion and its free expression. Just as I am entitled to quit caring what you think about me when I decide to. That means no secret guilt, no strings attached, no sleepless nights.

It’s easier said than done, especially when someone I truly care about takes a vocally judgmental position on one of our methods. It can be challenging to separate the person from the opinion, but as with all skills, I get steadily better at it with practice.

 

2. Conspicuous Consumption

I have never seen the value in spending extra money to show off a company logo. I do see the value in spending money where I spend my time.

This means I spend a bit more money to have a reliable, functional, comfortable vehicle for me to commute 2 hours per day back and forth to my office. But it also means that I see no point in spending more money than necessary to have a more expensive car for the purpose of impressing strangers.

This means spending money on a reliable, capable smartphone to use to perform my work functions and stay connected with the most important people in my life. But it doesn’t mean that I need to show off the latest and greatest model every year.

I had my last phone for 4 years and it met my needs admirably, despite a few scratches and dings.

This means my family buys less expensive, classically-styled clothing which last a long time but don’t sport any trendy labels.

This also means that I quit caring what labels you are sporting, or what car you are driving, or what phone you are carrying.

 

3. The Right Way

The way I drive drives Sarah crazy. Sarah has gifts for finding efficiencies in nearly any process, for organization, for taking the shortest route from point A to point B.

I like driving the same way I like showers.

My mind can slide off into rich, vivid, waking daydreams. Sometimes I get my best ideas or my most potent insights while driving or taking a shower. The mechanical motions of performing the tasks free my mind to wander.

However, this sometimes results in missed turns, slower reactions to green lights and late arrivals. This is the part that pushes Sarah’s buttons. So when she is in the car with me I do my best to refrain out of respect and love for her.

My way of driving isn’t the right way and Sarah’s way of driving isn’t the right way. There is no right way to drive. There is no right way to do anything.

So I reserve the right to quit caring if I’m doing things the wrong way, because there is no wrong way.

In a related story, I was recently subject to the judgment of a waitress at a restaurant when I took Mr. B and Mr. C out to dinner.

This was at one of these chain restaurants which have now adopted the policy of placing an obtrusive and obnoxious touch-screen tabletop computer on every table.

These devices have video games, access to websites; sometimes they even play video and audio. I find them annoying beyond my tolerance, not only for what they imply about our culture (what, we can’t talk to each other for 20 minutes while we face each other at a table and eat food together?), but also because they incessantly flash advertisements throughout the meal.

I removed the screen to another table and when the waitress returned she said, “Oh, did your table not have a computer? Here you go,” as she tried to replace the unit.

“No thanks, we don’t want that,” I said, politely but firmly.

“Well you’re going to need it when it’s time to pay the check,” she replied in an icy, condescending tone.

“We probably won’t pay then,” I replied with a joking smile. She returned my smile, only a beat too late, then retreated, computer in hand.

She is entitled to her opinion and the passive-aggressive expression of it, just as I am entitled to reflect my distaste for her attitude in my tip.

Besides, there is no right way to pay for my dinner at her restaurant. There is the way that the restaurant would prefer that I pay, there is the way that I might prefer to pay, but that’s it, despite any tone that any waitress might choose to take at any restaurant anywhere.

There is no right way.

 

In Conclusion

I’ve quit caring what anybody thinks. Sometimes I forget, but I always remember eventually. And I quit caring a little bit more each day.

What would happen if we all quit caring about these things? Would the economy collapse when nobody cared what brand was on their shirt anymore, what brand of car they drove, what brand toothpaste they used?

I don’t know. What I know is that it feels good letting go of what anybody else thinks about the choices we make for ourselves and our family. It feels like a kind of freedom.

How do you handle the judgement of others when it comes to you and your family?

Please post a comment to let us know!