The Enemy of Great

Do you know that expression, "Good is the enemy of Great?" It sounds good doesn't it? I mean, everyone knows we're a country of slackers who want to get the most while doing the least. Everyone knows that if we just worked a bit harder and stretched ourselves a bit further we could... Oh, I don't know; you finish that sentence.

It's taken me a long time to figure out why I was so fed up with and annoyed by that expression. Now I've come to realize that it's actually the word "Great" that is driving me crazy. We've veered off the path towards a Greatness that really matters and are settling for a Faux Great that is breathtaking, but empty- like a movie set. To achieve a kind "Great" that is rich, full, complex and complete, I think the expression should be "Efficiency is the enemy of Great." Or at least it should be in my two lines of work.

Have you ever tried to rush a two year old or a preschooler out the door in the morning? They don't rush. The more you try to rush them, the less they move. It's shocking how many tiny distractions they can find for every, "Come on! We have to go!" that you through out. As your blood pressure went up and up and their little heels dug further in, did you find yourself being less than "Great" as you screamed, they cried and you all got in the van out of breath?

Have you ever tried to get a middle schooler efficiently through an afternoon of sports, homework and church activities? Did you feel less than "Great" when you realized that in six hours of nagging and coaxing you finally had the kid off to bed and all the work completed, but without ever hearing what was on his heart? Did the glow of accomplishment grow dim as you double checked that the homework was in the backpack only to find a note from a friend/enemy/teacher sharing news of real importance that your child hand never had a chance to share with you?

In my other job, fifth grade teacher, it's even worse. I can go whole days, even weeks, charging through lessons in place value, spelling rules, and causes of the seasons without ever once taking time to listen to the story of the birthday party over the weekend or worse yet, the loss of the pet/grandparent/brother. What kind of loss am I creating with my "Just a minute," and "Not right now?"

To the outside world any of my kids' test scores, report cards and achievements, at home or school, could make it look like I was "Great," but I don't think that's the measuring stick I want to be measured by. I know how naive and sappy that sounds. I also know that it sounds like a cop out, a lazy, slacker path. But sometimes what's true doesn't sound like common sense.

I need to be less efficient in both jobs. Kids need space and time to move, to breathe, to unfold, and they need to do it by their own internal clocks. Kids tell you what's on their hearts when they have the need, not when you have the time. They need you to be present, which means no multi-tasking while you listen, hold, love them.

Raising humans is the opposite of efficient. It's messy. It's circular. It's erratic. It's chaotic. Raising "Great" humans flies in the face of many of business's best practices. That feels scary. Good business practices can be easily measured; you can quickly tell if you're doing the job right. It requires little or no faith; just input the right formulas and the perfect widget will pop out the other side.

Humans, kids, aren't business goals, aren't machines, aren't put on earth for the purpose of producing anything. I personally believe they were put here for the delight and joy of their Creator, but even if you don't believe that, you have to see people as being something greater than product that they can offer to a world with far too many products already.

I say, go ahead, give in to that urge to take the long way, to say "No" to one more thing, to cut the to-do list in half. If you get really good at it, then you could write a best seller called, "Efficiency is the enemy of Great!" but you probably won't have time.