On Behalf of the Executive Director The executive director’s column in this issue presents a written version of a recent episode of the Lead. Learn. Change. podcast by PAGE Impact Project Director David Reynolds.
Things, Just Things David Reynolds
I
drove past a metal recycling center the other day. The place has potential, but it’s quite an eyesore. At first glance there appears to be no rhyme or reason to the mess, and I am sure that passersby — and especially homeowners and proprietors in the area — are happy that a fence that has been erected around the property, a fence that somewhat minimizes the view of what most people would likely call a junkyard. On my return trip, when I slowed down a bit and took a closer look, I realized that there was actually some organization to those piles of rusted and soon-to-berusted discards. Sure, most of the heaps’ contents were unrecognizable, but others were, in fact, easily identifiable, and seemed to be clustered by category. One or two items stood out in particular. For example, in the “appliance section,” I noticed a washing machine, free of visible dents and looking as if it could have been for sale in a department store. Clothes dryers, lawn mowers, pressure washers, oven racks and even televisions were also strewn about in the same general area. During my childhood I would have never believed that people would toss televisions into the garbage as easily as they would a wadded-up piece of paper. But that’s another story. Back to the junk piles. There was a very large, big-ticket item there. It couldn’t be missed. It was a car. A shiny, charcoal
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gray, late-model car. Not a wrecked car, mind you. Not a car smashed into a sheet metal pancake. It was nearly new, seemingly ready to be driven right off the top of the dumpster into which it had been dropped. Of course, no one simply throws away a fully functioning automobile. Whatever repairs were needed to address this car’s invisible problems were apparently too costly, and the previous owner ended up selling it. And likely for less than pennies on the dollar. Yet, one day, not too long ago, someone paid good money for that car, brand new, and they were almost certainly very happy with their purchase. New car smell. New sound system. Modern bells and whistles. GPS, Bluetooth technology, maybe even heated seats or customizable colorful interior lighting options. New warranty. That was then, when it was new. Today? Rubbish. Scrap metal. On the list to be stripped of seats, tires and any other useful components or parts that might generate a few bucks. Destined to be melted, crushed, recycled or buried. It’s a car. Despite its capacity to do certain things, primarily getting someone from Point A to Point B (and back, as some people will add), it will not produce true joy or infuse a relationship with meaning. It can’t. It’s a car. It’s just a thing. And things come and things go.
But, connections with others, creating meaningful work, and making a difference? These have long lasting impacts. So that makes me wonder. How am I viewing the things in my life, in my family, in my work? Am I counting on things to make me a better teacher, husband, dad or professional? What if the things were gone? As my colleague and educational philosopher Will Esters says, “Just give me a stick, and some dirt, and I can teach.” Is that me? Is that you? If my mobile phone were gone, could I still make connections with others? If my computer were stolen, could I still write? Communicate? It’s tempting to say, “Absolutely! Of course I could!” Is it true for me? I hope so. What do I need to do to make these things happen? The answer to that question will point me in a direction that will increase the impact of my contribution
Link to audio version of this column. PAGE Impact Project Director David Reynolds produces the Lead. Learn. Change. postcast
March/April 2020
