As I sit here today with my Starbucks on my left and iPad on my right, I admit that I am an 'experience junkie'. Somewhere in my journey from childhood to my current self, it became critical for me to have 'atmosphere' in the smallest of things. What I now see, however, is that I often trade in 'manufactured' experiences while missing the real thing all together.
In looking at my craving for 'experiences', I came to three conclusions. First, coffee does not cost four dollars, but I am willing to pay that ridiculous price for a moment of 'me-time' just before work every day. Second, while I live less than a mile from the ocean, I am willing to pay for a vacation hotel room with a 'view' of the ocean, rather than dip my toes in it on any given day. Finally, third, I am willing to pay small fortunes to Target and Amazon to decorate my house like a madwoman for every holiday, in anticipation of enjoying quality family time therein, yet somehow the holidays come and go without enough memories to match the countless glittering light display spectacles.
My new assignment, as a result of this epiphany, is to stop decorating an imaginary experience and remember the value of living in a real one. A real one gets messy sometimes and not everything is in order. As a school leader, I have been tempted to solve countless problems while trapped in my office at my computer, with a mobile phone, an iPad and work line all buzzing and dinging at the same time. I host meeting after meeting to discuss quality experiences for the students while the very same wonderful students are celebrating a fiesta for Spanish class upstairs, or are in the courtyard reading to a specially trained dog, or are engaged in a debate on the national debt in the library. The lesson for me is calling as I finish typing this sentence.
Out of my office window, I see a group of high school students heading for the bus to leave for a college tour. One of those students is my sixteen year old son. I realize all too clearly that most of what I am busy orchestrating is simply happening around me with or without my planning. It is better to steal a moment at breakfast with my son, enjoying my 50 cent homemade coffee. It is better to go swimming in the ocean than to sit in an expensive room and look at it. And it is far better laugh with loved ones sans the glittering lights than to lose oneself in the details of an orchestration. While I will never leave all of the glitter, Starbucks or planning meetings behind, I will be sure to keep those things right where they belong- simply as window dressing to a beautiful day spent hand in hand with the people who matter most. Carpe diem!
