Whatever our work in the world is, we eventually know when we have done what we intended to do, and whether that has turned out as we had expected. This “work in the world” can be our professional work. It can be our work as parents, spouses, partners, friends, neighbors and colleagues. It can be our volunteer work. It can be roles that we take on in leadership in community, in church, and in social organizations. Our work may be a particular kind of ongoing study, or craft, or hobby. Our work, really, is what draws us to it, through passion, through curiosity, through necessity, and through a sense of reciprocity and values.
Our work. Our works. We all have them.
And when we are engaged in one of our works, we know, don’t we? We do the work, and we can stand back from it, and we know whether what we did in this instance hit the mark or not.
I taught 5 classes a day for 180 days a year for 32 years. That amounts to 28,800 classes not including workshops, retreats, adjunct courses at various universities. This is one of my works. I did it a lot. And I came to know if my work hit the mark, or not. That “mark” certainly included the subject matter content and the skills that went with what I taught. But, it also included developing respectful and caring human relationships with teenagers and the adults I co-labored with. These were my works, professionally.
When I missed the mark, sometimes it was because I needed to refine my knowledge of content or find better ways to develop language skills with students. Sometimes, I missed the mark because I lost my cool, or made a bad judgment or acted out of my own ignorance of cultural differences. When it was a content or skill based issue, I would make my adjustments, and offer my students “better ways to do this.” When it was a human relationship issue, that was much more challenging to me. It meant owning my stuff: the anger, the judgment, the ignorance, and trying to understand where it was coming from. That kind of repair had to happen within me first. And then it meant trying to repair with students. That was really hard for me, at first. It still can be when the mark I missed involves another human heart.
“I missed the mark yesterday when I lost my temper. Please forgive me.”
“I missed the mark last week when I let my assumptions get in the way of hearing what you were saying. Can we start over?”
“I missed the mark when I created that assignment without understanding what that meant for you and your culture. Can we use our imaginations together to create a project that works for you?”
To talk about this after the fact sounds smooth and easy. It was not. I grew up in a culture that pretended that perfection was the only acceptable mark. It never really is.
When I have missed the mark, practicing repair means seeing how I missed, stepping back, making adjustments, and sometimes asking for forgiveness or creating a new way forward. Sometimes, missing the mark creates a wound that leaves scars, and they themselves invite us to see better, hear better, and do better.
~Bob Patrick
