The man who may have been the best basketball coach ever, John Wooden, used to tell his players, "Be quick, but don't hurry." It's good advice. The Road Runner was always quick; the Coyote always hurried. The Road Runner, of course, remains undefeated.
On my first day as a busboy, I hurried. I was 19. Carrying a heavy tray up on a shoulder and holding it steady with one hand seemed inconceivable to someone who, even in the halcyon days of his youth, combined the grace of a set of falling car keys with the athleticism of a giant sloth. In a very busy kitchen on a packed Saturday night, I dropped the tray. When the manager showed up to survey the disaster, he found me with my butt somehow wedged into a barrel of pickles.
A cook pointed to a wet spot on the floor as the culprit, either out of kindness or in anticipation of the physical comedy I might provide that summer.
I kept the job. The fate of the pickles is unknown.
My first full-time teaching position consisted of five science classes, plus labs, in three different rooms, in three different wings of the school.
I hurried between them, trying to do the impossible all year long. In the process, I neglected myself. I stopped working out, I lost sleep, and I became cranky. By the end of the school year, my back was killing me. A specialist said I'd need surgery and would never play basketball again.
July and August saved me, as I did hundreds of sit-ups daily and built myself up for the rigors of the school year. While job stress would make my back hurt at times over 26 years in the classroom, I never had surgery, and I played basketball until I was 56.
The workplace can be a sensory overstimulation tank, especially when you're new. A superintendent once advised one of my overtaxed colleagues, "One hand for the ship, one hand for yourself." It was a guide to survival, really—a nod to keeping perspective when you start to veer off course.
Later, I became engaged in a struggle with that superintendent that stretched from months into years. I became so drawn in that I was unable to realize what was going on and why I was a target. That awareness, that perspective, would have shifted the battlefield. Maybe that's why battlefield commanders often have headquarters so far from the battle itself. Or maybe the food is just better.
Stepping back from a situation—particularly if you're in a pickle—can help you gain perspective and regain your bearings. Try a change of scenery or focus on your own interests. Exercise, meditation, prayer, yoga, hobbies—all of these can increase your creativity and efficiency on the job. That's what you should be telling yourself as you call in sick on a beautiful sunny day.
It's a marathon, not a sprint. Take the time to look around when you're on the run.
Beep, beep!
Dana Dunnan, MA '74, lives in Walden, Vt. His latest book is Chalkdust Memories: Lessons from a Teaching Career.
