Goals Gone Wild!

Red, Write, and Blue On Monday, I boarded an early morning flight from Boston Logan to London Heathrow. I had chosen to fly with British Airways, so I nestled into my adult-sized seat and was promptly greeted by a pair of courteous flight attendants. (By contrast, my in-flight experience with domestic carriers has deteriorated to cramped quarters that violate the Geneva Conventions and cranky pants who stop just short of giving you the finger when you ask for more ice.) I sighed deeply and settled in for the brisk 6-hour flight. Before long, we had cheerily climbed to an altitude where it was safe to nip off to the loo before having a spot of Earl Grey. Across the aisle, I noticed a scholarly chap just as he pulled a stack of exam books from his leather satchel. I didn’t look carefully enough to read any of the writing, mind you, so I don’t know if these were works of History, Literature, Philosophy, or Theology. Whatever the subject, the scene captivated me all the same. I thought back to my own experience with written exams. Early in my academic “career”, I had a penchant for putting off writing assignments until the last possible minute. My written work surely reflected this. Later, I got serious about my studies and I poured considerable effort into my writing. I was pretty sure that stack of exams had contributions from both types of students. I looked at the exams and imagined the hope and nervous energy that undoubtedly accompanied them. Sally’s dream of another “A+”, Tom’s hope for a “solid B”, and Johnny’s aching for a passing grade (for a change) all hung in the balance. I watched in horror as Professor Plum withdrew a red pen and tore into the first exam book. That callous red pen hovered above the page like a cobra poised to strike. The red pen is the dream dasher. The red pen notes corrections and errors in glaring Technicolor. He scanned each exam quickly, and he sliced and diced with machine-like precision. With nary a minute or so per booklet, he dispensed his work, returned the stack to his satchel, reclined his seat, and donned a set of crappy airline headphones. Free at last. I imagined what Sally would have thought of this process if she were sitting next to him: “Hey! I worked hard on that unimaginative assignment you gave us. Chaucer and gender issues in Canterbury Tales? Please. Spare me. Even so, I spent hours on that exam, and you waxed over it in like two seconds. And why? So you can watch No Strings Attached before a good scratch and a nap? Ok, so Ashton Kutcher and Natalie Portman make for a passable couple in that racy romantic comedy, but that shouldn’t matter. You’re going to have to better than that. This isn’t Baylor, after all.” I hate the red pen. The red pen says, “I’m right and you’re wrong.” The red pen says, “Fall into line.” Unlike our professor, an editor doesn’t use a red pen; an editor uses a blue pen. This isn’t merely a difference in hue but also in philosophy. Editors might want to make corrections, but they realize that it remains the author’s work, and good editors tend to favor artistic collaboration over “do as I say”. A good editor sees herself as a sort of coach who desperately wants to help draw out the author’s best work and truest voice. I love the blue pen. The blue pen says, “What would happen if…?” The blue pen says, “What could we do to improve this?” Think about your most recent interactions with family members, friends, or co-workers. Which metaphorical pen do you reach for most often? Are you: A. Quick to point out what you perceive to be mistakes or try to make curt corrections? (red pen) B. More likely to ask intriguing and constructive questions to raise awareness while drawing out the best work from those around you? (blue pen) I believe that I tend to use my blue pen in my work conversations. Particularly if I see a co-worker make a mistake or exhibit a counterproductive attitude, I’m pretty good at resisting the urge to play the “I know best” card. I try to sit next to him and help him examine his choice or situation from a new perspective. With my kids, however, I think I use my red pen too often. If I’m stressed or otherwise not at my best, I tend to cut corners and give them my observations (whether solicited or unsolicited) as if anybody other than they themselves can make better decisions, take up a challenge, or learn a meaningful lesson. This is ironic, because if anybody on the planet deserves my blue pen over my red pen, it’s my kids. (I definitely need to work on this.) Which pen do you use most often? The choice is always yours, and if you’re unhappy with your default choice, you can take steps to change it. If you’d like to increase your use of the blue pen, remind yourself that you live alongside others (not over them), and that you’re a co-creator of successful living. Doling out advice doesn’t create positive or lasting change, but eliciting learning and growth in others always does. The red pen typically works best in the classroom, and even then I’m not convinced. If my eighth grade English teacher read my stuff now, she’d be horrified. “This will never do. No colloquial language. No excessive parentheses. No Ashton Kutcher references. Didn’t he read all the comments I made on his papers?” Oh, I red them alright. Unfortunately, blue is my preferred color.