In light of the current pandemic, and stay at home orders, I have two words of advice for everyone stuck at home … pace yourself. Don’t try to do everything in a day, a week, or even a month. Break everything down into small pieces and tackle them one at a time.
Several years ago a school superintendent friend of mine moved from a K-12 school district to an Intermediate School District or ISD. Superintendents of ISD’s lead organizations that provide support services to the local K-12 districts. While a K-12 district might have 1,000 – 5,000 students, ISDs work with a collection of K-12 districts, and thus, may have 10,000 – 30,000 students. They have larger staffs, more funding, and are looked upon by some as being a bit elite.
Shortly after my friend received his new assignment, another friend offered up these words of advice. “Don’t open all your mail in the morning. Save some for the afternoon, so you’ll have something to do.” This was a tongue in cheek poke. Since most ISD’s have larger staffs, the “poker” felt that our friend might have some spare time on his hands. His suggestion was a reference to “pacing yourself.”
During my teaching career in Plainwell, I had a teaching associate that decided he should paint the exterior of his house. It was a white, single story ranch. Dave had ample time in the summer to tackle the task; but rather than paint the entire house in a single summer, he decided to paint one side each year. It took him four summers to complete the job. That’s an extreme example of pacing yourself.
I’m not a jig saw puzzle guy, but some of my family members are. I’ve heard of many people taking on the hobby as a way to pass the time during the lock down. Most puzzle assemblers sort the pieces first. They look for pieces with a flat edge that appear to make-up the outside of the puzzle. In the process, they also sort by color. If I attempted to assemble such a puzzle, that would be the end of day one.
On day two, and all subsequent days, I’d continue to pace myself, and assemble no more than one hundred pieces a day. That way a one thousand piece puzzle would take the better part of two weeks to complete, and I’d have something to look forward to each day.
Writing this blog has a pace of its own. First, I decide upon an idea that I can develop into at least five hundred words. Then I create a working title and write an opening sentence. That’s the end of day one.
During subsequent days I write a little, wait a little, edit a bit, then write some more. Most sessions last no more than an hour. That pace allows me to let concepts mellow by providing “think time”. Think time has a direct impact upon the pace of my writing.
The original working title of this piece was The Runs. After careful consideration I dropped the title because it might be too controversial. My original intent was to let my readers know that Ruth and I recently scored some toilet paper. After almost two months of looking, a good friend stopped by to deliver some to us on Monday. Later, I found more and purchased some additional. Technically, I may have become a hoarder in the process.
As our toilet paper supply diminished, I became a bit concerned that my anxiety regarding our lack of paper might result in an imbalance in my constitution, which could lead to a case of diarrhea, or as my dad called it … the runs. He used the runs in the same fashion that his parents used it.
Back in the days before indoor plumbing was commonplace, outhouses with Sears and Roebuck catalogs dotted our nation’s countryside. The runs was a more accurate way to describe the urgency that people displayed whenever they developed a case of diarrhea. And it very definitely had an impact upon the pace that one made his way to the outhouse.
This morning Ruth decided that she was going to clean out all of the cupboards in our kitchen. The last time I remember her doing that was never. She plans to attack the task in sections. She’s going to remove everything from a section, clean all the shelves, and replace, or reassign, its contents. She has self identified six different sections, and plans to attack one section a day for six days, thus pacing herself.
She got a bit distracted today and only cleaned out one shelf. (She’s still receiving, and opening, cards and gifts from Saturday’s birthday.) Moving forward she’s going to have to pick up the pace in order to meet her self identified six day goal. I’m confident she’ll be successful. If she’s not, she can always stretch the pace of her work into next week.
That’s the beauty of pacing yourself.