Author: Mack Ames

Chris and I were talking this morning, and it struck me that he had a good point; he often does. Who is Chris? He’s one of the men in my first class of the day. Anyway, we were talking about how he gets his day going by being in my classroom–he wants to safeguard that first hour of the day to be in here with me by not being forced to be in some other facility-required programming during that time. We reflected to one another how we weren’t sure when we first met that we’d get along with each other. In fact, we had a little blow up early on, but then we “hugged it out,” as he likes to say, and moved on with our lives.

“You don’t have my sense of humor,” Chris said this morning, “but you’re willing to take a joke, shrug it off, and move on with your life. You don’t let stuff bother you.” And it was that last comment that caught my attention, because there’s a lot that happens in my workday that I DON’T let bother me, yet there are some things that easily get under my skin. While this thought passed through my mind, Chris kept talking. “You mentioned a few days ago that you learned to make jokes at your own expense so bullies’ words wouldn’t hurt so much. I mean, that’s a good coping tool. If I’d been around, I would’ve given those bullies something else to do.”

Chris is a man of action most of the time. He’s learning to use his words more than he used to, and he’s finding his voice. He has begun to advocate more for himself and other residents, and I know of one man here that wouldn’t have made it this long without Chris’ help. Still, leading horses to water and getting them to drink without prompting are two different scenarios, as we all know, and not every colt is ready to learn when the help is available. But this is beside the point today.

The point today is that when I am the butt of sharp comments, the source determines the level of pain successfully inflicted, it seems. Between “many a truth is spoken in jest” and hearing the tone of voice or feeling especially vulnerable when reading the words, the messenger and/or medium can make all the difference between “water off a duck’s back” and “Eh tu, Brute?” In most of my work situations, there are few times when my reaction is the latter, unless the messenger is a coworker or supervisor. Given the circumstances that bring my students here, antisocial communications are common, with ample opportunities to redirect to prosocial responses.

CMS: Creative Mental Solutions are part of the job.

Background to CBI: Where I work, CBI is a term familiar to everyone. CBI, or Cognitive Behavior Intervention, is a key element to the treatment programs the residents of our correctional facility receive. The emphasis here is that we are a correctional facility, not a penal facility. The penalty for our residents is in the fact that they’ve lost their freedom and are separated from their loved ones for an extended period of time. Our facility exists to provide corrective programming in preparation for their eventual return to society. CBI for different needs in our population plays its role significantly, and I have heard many residents speak positively of the results CBI has played in their lives being changed for the better.

My CBI: A month ago, I began participating in a CBI program on my own, not at our facility. It addresses Food and Physical Activity, hence the FPA in the title of this post. This CBI FPA, as I call it, speaks to our relationships with food and physical activity, and learning to understand our needs and wants, and how to maintain healthy choices as a way of life without driving ourselves crazy. The program is called, “Noom,” and it costs about $25 per month at the introductory rate I got for seven months. I’m not sure that I’ll want to keep paying for this program after the 7 months are up, but having paid for that already, I’ll willing to give it my best shot and see if I can establish healthier habits of eating and physical activity between now and then.

The daily routine: There are several elements to the daily Noom routine (autocorrect keeps changing Noom to Zoom, Room, Doom, etc..very annoying).

1. I am supposed to log my meals, which include morning, afternoon, and evening snacks. Calorie counting is encouraged to keep me on the path to awareness of good eating. (More on that later.)
2. I log the number of 8 oz. glasses of water I drink. My goal is 5, though I frequently drink much more than that.
3. I have articles to read, along with short quizzes to take and questions to answer to reinforce the lessons I’m learning. These articles dismantle distorted thoughts about food and replace them with new understandings, such as “There’s no such thing as good foods or bad foods! Moderation and portion control are key! Put the rider in control and tame the elephant! (The elephant in the room being the beast that wants instant gratification of calorically dense foods that will weigh us down while making us crash a little while later, and the rider is the one in control that chooses a lighter, less dense snack that satisfies the cravings without compromising on the goals.) The readings take about 15 minutes a day. If I don’t finish them one day, they’ll be there for next time.
4. There is a step count section, where the app will estimate my steps each day, but I can enter an adjusted amount if I walked more than it estimated. I can add other kinds of physical activity, too, such as yard work, treadmill, exercise bike or other gym equipment, and so on, with settings for low, medium, and high intensity of activity, and duration, with which the app will determine approximate number of calories burned. My most frequent addition to the walking is lawn mowing for 30 minutes. It burns about 320 calories.
5. The other item on the daily list is the weight log. I must admit that sometimes I’m eager to do this and sometimes, not so much. However, since losing weight is one of my primary reasons for taking Noom’s approach, I press on.

30-Day Assessment: After the first thirty days with CBI-FPA, the jury is still out regarding its ultimate effectiveness. I can acknowledge some progress toward my goals, but I am not prepared to declare myself reoriented to Noom’s ways of thinking regarding food and physical activity in all the ways they recommend. That said, I do like how Noom addresses common distortions about food, in particular. For example, instead of calling this food “good” and that food “bad,” they address foods according to caloric density. Foods that have high water content are “green” foods, and should make up about 35% of our daily intake. Foods with middling’ water content fall into the “yellow” food category and are recommended to be about 45% of our intake. The last category is “red,” the densest foods, such as dried fruit, full fat dairy and meats, white breads, and so on. Reds should constitute 20% of our daily intake, or less. As I input my daily meals, the app identifies each item according to its color, so I begin to learn how to recognize where I can make adjustments to what I’m eating. Instead of dried fruit, I can choose fresh fruit. Instead of white bread, I can choose whole grain bread. Instead of milk chocolate, I can choose dark chocolate. Moderation and portion control can go a long way.

In my first thirty days, my weight dropped, rose, dropped, dropped, rose a little, dropped a lot, rose slightly, and then it held steady. My attitudes toward eating have begun to change. What I choose to eat IS different today than it was a month ago. I AM more physically active. I am more likely to get up and move than I used to be, and less likely to be a bear in a chair. These are changes I was looking for. This personal challenge has six months to go, but for now, it’s going in the right direction.

What do I think about CBI-FPA so far? Well, if I can maintain this pace, I’ll reach my goal. In my first month, I lost 8.4 pounds. I’d be happy if I lost 7 pounds/month from here on out.

UPDATE: As of end of November 2021, I reached 46 pounds lost with Noom, and maintaining. I’m still following Noom’s principles, and I’m still a fan of the program. Over the course of the five months I’ve learned that every food in moderation is acceptable, even red meats and nuts. When it comes to red meats, though, the leaner the meat, the lighter the caloric content, which makes lean meats healthier choices.

Would it be fair to say that I’m a better teacher than doer? That from my many life experiences I can describe a process for others more efficiently than I can carry it out for myself? I think it is.

Since mid-March, I’ve been proctoring a college class for two adult ed students at the facility where I work. It met one afternoon/evening a week for a Zoom presentation that I broadcast on a movie screen in my classroom for the two men, and then they spent the requisite time that followed until the next lecture completing their assignments. The course was on entrepreneurship, and I’ve taken the class right along with them. It’s been very informative, though I’m not planning to start nor own a business.

I spent a summer during my college years working for an entrepreneur; it was a fascinating experience, and I hope to be able to bring him to my workplace sometime to meet with my students. I worked for him a number of years later under different circumstances, too, and I can see via hindsight that you can take the entrepreneur out of his shop, but he’s still an entrepreneur in how he approaches all his business!

So, today, one of my students was puzzled by a question for the final project, when it asked what steps he would take, if any, to go from his current status to his highest goal–paycheck to wealth. He was quite stymied, really, so I asked him a few questions to get him going, but when he didn’t quite grasp the concept, I made a couple of suggestions. “Consistent sales? Good financial practices? Planning ahead?” The light began to flicker behind his eyes, and he nodded, hesitantly. “Do you play chess?” I inquired. When he indicated yes, I pushed along, “What’s the best way to win?”

“Plan ahead,” he replied.

“Exactly!” I said. “Same with business. You have to plan ahead so that you’re ready, come what may.” At that point, I wanted to burst into the song, “Come What May” from Moulin Rouge, but I restrained myself. Instead, I got up and went to the whiteboard, talking as I moved. “I know you’re catching on, but let’s look at this a little more concretely.”

I drew a vertical line on the board and made it fork off into two directions while quoting Yogi Berra, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” I followed up with, “As a business owner, you’re going to be planning for the next steps your business needs to take, of course. And you may see this juncture approaching, and you have in mind that you have one direction you want to go. Either way, you need to be looking at the pros and cons of either direction you could go, and the subsequent junctures those directions could lead to and their pros and cons, and so on, just as you would with each chess move. And as you think you’ve found your way to go, maybe with a few reservations, perhaps an opportunity you weren’t expecting arises regarding the opposite direction, so you look at it again. At that point, you need to talk with you advisers, lay out what your thinking is on both directions, and see if they can see anything you’ve missed. That will help you make the best informed decision possible for the good of your business. And you need to keep looking for chances and hurdles so you can stay ahead of the curve and ahead of your competitors.”

“Does that make more sense?” He indicated that it did, and he returned to his computer to plug away at his marketing and business plan with a renewed sense of direction. I, on the other hand, returned to my desk with the knowledge that I could explain it to him, but wouldn’t be pursuing development nor ownership of my own business.

So, back to the original question: Is it fair to label myself more capable of describing the process than carrying it out? Yes. Yes, it is. 🙂

Is it really over? That which I longed for and dreaded has come and gone already in a whirlwind? Where has the time gone?

April 23^rd was so long ago now, six weeks past. So much emotion and reflection have come and gone, come again, and gone again, wave after wave. Tears, sighs, calm, relief, sadness, peace, sorrow, comfort…

May 15^th spun in and out of the picture, too, the thrill of reunion, bursts of joy, anger, delight, release, remembrance, healing, restoration, but ending too soon as always. Parting yet again, homeward to burdens of life beyond these borders. God have mercy! He does. We pray, and He does.

My favorite month slips away, and June is nigh upon us. In God we trust, we hope, we live. Amen.

“And Mr. B?” He turned to me in expectation. “I am aware of how hypercritical I can be!”

My comments weren’t directed at B, as my critical comments had to do with someone else entirely, but B had witnessed them and was making a passively aggressive disapproving face. He’s a “live and let live” kind of guy, and I often am, too. However, I have standards as a teacher that must be met by fellow instructors, and when they’re not, I get warm under the collar.

As I had said just moments earlier to B and J, one of my teachers once told me, “Bill, don’t drop your voice at the end of sentences, and don’t mumble what you have to say, unless what you have to say is unimportant. And if that’s the case, don’t bother saying it at all, because if you drop your voice or mumble, what you’re saying will come across as unimportant and not worth listening to.”

I’ve just spent more than an hour listening to a lecture on a topic that I find interesting. However, the lecturer dropped the final 5-7 words of almost every sentence he spoke, and/or he mumbled frequently. Even when I sat directly in front of the loudspeakers, I still couldn’t understand him. What a frustrating event! I so wanted to know what he was saying, but as he finished statement after statement, his points were lost, just because no one ever told him that he must keep the volume going and not to mumble!

Having railed against him, I sat down and glanced at Mr. B and Mr. I. Mr. I, a.k.a. J, knows me better than Mr. B does and is used to my expectations of fellow instructors, so it hadn’t caused him any concerns that I’d gone off on the lecturer for mumbling. Still, I thought it best to acknowledge my own awareness of the critical nature of my comments so that Mr. B would know I’m aware of how I come across. He seemed to appreciate that.

Between the mumbling lecturer and an unstable internet connection that has dropped us from the online group five times in less than 90 minutes tonight and caused audio slowdowns about ten times, I’m relieved we’ve come to the end of the road with this Zoom doom.

From the moment that my siblings and I began processing Dad’s death together, each one of them told me in their own way that they “process things slowly.” I had burst into sobs of loss immediately upon hearing the news, which was radically different from my reaction to when Mum died, when I had been stoic and bottled up my emotions. My dear brother and sisters had their emotional moments, too, leading up to the memorial service on May 15^th; I know they did. I witnessed some of them and instigated others. I had a few, too. Yet we do not mourn hopelessly. Dad is with Jesus, and we look forward to seeing Jesus, too.

Still, I have discovered that following this wonderful time with my siblings, a familiar sorrow is creeping in once again. It began in the 1980s. I was just a little boy. Just about the time I began to realize what a wonderful family God allowed me to be born into, he started changing it.

First, he changed it in very positive ways. Priscilla married Len, and they had Isaac and Nate (with more to follow!). But then Dan graduated from college and moved away. Having my favorite (and only!) brother not at home anymore began a drain on my emotions that has lasted ever since. I don’t write this to hurt him! But he has been so important to me in my life that I have to acknowledge how living so far from him for so long has impacted me. Getting to see him as often as I have in recent years has been a balm to my heart and soul. I’m so thankful to Dan and his wife Sue for coming to Maine as frequently as they have (it’s getting hard to see the computer screen; a bug must’ve gotten in my eyes ‘cuz they’re getting watery).

When God changed our family by taking Mum home, I became very angry with Him. At the same time, though, Dad and I developed a very close relationship for the next five years. It was wonderful, even though it took Mum’s death to make it happen. (There’s a lot to unpack there, yes. I see it, too.) Among the other changes that were good were Dan marrying Sue, Judi marrying Paul, and Mary marrying Logan! All brought children into the world and/or adopted them, and our extended family grew, and grew, and grew. Each expansion brought a deepening sense of love, but also a deepening sense of separation, as we lived further from one another and saw less of each other. We’ve stayed in touch very well, I’d say, but… for such a closely knit family, the partings and extended absences grieve me each time.

I admit here that I am jealous of the people that get to spend more time with my siblings than I do. I am not satisfied that I get to live so closely to one sister and go to church with her. I want to be close to all of them! And yes, I especially want to be closer to my brother. As I told my siblings during the weekend of Dad’s memorial service, Dan is really the one I looked to in my childhood to be my mentor, not Dad. Dad was too busy providing for the family, working for the church, and doing all the other things he’s so often remembered for (and for which I honor him, too). In the five year-span that Dad and I grew close, he even admitted to me that he didn’t know how to relate to me when I was young, and that it wasn’t until I was about 12 or 13 years old that he began to understand how to interact with me. He asked me to forgive him for that, which I did. But that was why I looked to Dan so much in my life!

When Mum entered the hospital to give birth to the baby that turned out to be me, Dan said to her, “If it’s not a boy, don’t come home.” He was tired of all the sisters (3)! Then he wanted to take his baby brother to kindergarten with him for show and tell. He tried to convince Mum that he could take me on the bus, change me when needed, feed me, and keep me with him all day at school. He was disappointed that she didn’t share his confidence.

Dan was my protector in my childhood. He stood up to my bullies. He didn’t tease me as much as he teased our sisters; he’d teach me how to tease them. He’d let me tag along with his friends whenever possible. He treated me well. He still does! For decades, when he called me on my birthday, he’d remark, “Happy birthday, Little Bother Bill! You’re so grown up! You can even speak in complete sentences now!”

Returning all this to my opening comments, my siblings aren’t the only ones to process slowly. We’ve all suffered a tremendous shock and loss with Dad’s homegoing to Jesus. We are thankful that he went quickly. We are thankful that he’s met his heart’s greatest desire at last. But his gain is our loss, and his absence is felt keenly, and we will be processing that for a long time to come. For my part, my sorrow deepened on Saturday as the cousins and Uncle Steve and Aunt Anne left for home. Then we said farewell to Mary & Logan & their boys. As each part of the family parted, my pain increased, for we were no longer whole. Yesterday, we bid adieu to Judi and Paul, and to Nick. Tonight, we will say goodbye to Dan and Sue, Caleb and Abby. I get to see the Murrays more often because they live here in Maine, at least. But the farewells to Judi and Paul and to the Dan MacDonalds are much more painful. This is where my grief is. This is where it’s been since the 1980s. Just when I was old enough to appreciate my family for who they are, they moved away.

That’s not a criticism of them, by the way. In God’s good providence, my siblings have followed their Savior’s leading obediently, and they live and work in his provision where he places them. It’s a recognition that in this world there is heartache and pain, and that God’s family desires to be with him, ultimately, united permanently with Christ, where there are no tears, no partings, no sorrows, and no more separations. I am so thankful for Priscilla & Len, Dan & Sue, Judi & Paul, Mary & Logan, and my wife Laurel, and for their godly example of walking humbly with Jesus, trusting in him for salvation from sin in repentance and faith, yearning for the Day when we will be in heaven with Christ, where sin will no longer have any sway over us, and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

I am in retreat.

All around me, people are experiencing pain and apparent chaos. I say, “apparent” chaos because I know that God is sovereign and that nothing happens by chance. Still, the upheavals of life occur–from a human perspective–randomly and chaotically, unsettling hearts and minds. I am trying to rest in the Lord, to leave my cares at his feet, as the Bible says. However, there are days when I’m overwhelmed to the point of paralyzation, and that is when I go into full retreat. I cannot act because I cannot think. I cannot think because there is too much to think about. I freeze. I sit, almost catatonic, staring into the room, incapable of the simplest decisions, unwilling to smile or care. All I want to do is sit in peace and quiet and let time pass me by. I am in retreat.

Don’t ask me anything. Don’t tell me anything. Don’t expect anything of me or from me. Don’t say I can go home. Don’t make me go to work. Don’t anticipate my thoughts, feelings, or words. Just…don’t. I’m in retreat.

You don’t know how I feel. You don’t know what’s important to me or not important to me. You don’t know why I think or feel this way. I can’t or won’t explain myself to you; it’s too detailed or exhausting to do so. Don’t patronize me. I’m not a kid anymore. I have very good reasons for how I am today. If you doubt me, then so be it. I will retreat. Do what you’re going to do; just don’t involve me in it. You’ve heard what I think about it. I’m tired. I am in retreat.

Everywhere I turn, someone needs me or something from me. God, I can’t. I just can’t. I’m not enough. Without you, I’m witless, helpless, useless. Please, God, fill me up! I cry out to you! I’m in retreat.

On Friday, April 23, 2021, not too long after midnight, Paul S MacDonald left this earthly life behind and went home to be with his beloved Savior, Jesus Christ. In doing so, he left a world of physical weakness and pain, where the effects of this life on his body had slowly degraded his ability to pursue his loves of haying, singing, visiting friends and family, and most importantly, spending quality time with his dear wife. He now rejoices in the presence of God, while we who are left behind experience the mixed emotions of sadness and joy. Sadness for the loss of his companionship, yet joy for the end of his suffering and his home-going to heaven.

Although his suffering and decline had been long and slow, his death was sudden and unexpected. “His mind was as sharp as ever,” was a comment often made by those who spoke with him in recent months. “When given ample time, he communicated just fine.” It was easier to do so in person than on the phone, folks said, but either way, time granted was rewarded.

In the days since his death, tributes and condolences have flooded in from relatives, friends, former students, colleagues, friends of family members–the love, encouragement, kindness, and prayer offered by so many have come in abundance. I would say it is unlike anything I have ever seen, but that would be untrue, for I have seen this twice before. I saw this when Sally MacDonald died in 1987. She was Paul’s first wife, mother of their 5 children, of whom I am the youngest. I saw the flood of kindness again two years ago when my wife was hospitalized and nearly died from influenza and pneumonia.

However, now that Dad is gone, it is SO encouraging to hear what I’ve long suspected: His testimony and life to the grace and mercy of God have indeed touched countless lives with gospel truth. I cannot tell you how many people have written in the last few days and said, “Had it not been for your dad, I never would have come to faith in Christ.” I’ve lost count! Glory to God! Indeed, that is one of Dad’s favorite hymns:

To God be the glory, great things he hath done!
So loved he the world that he gave us his Son,
Who yielded his life an atonement for sin,
And opened the life gate that we may go in.

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the earth hear his voice!
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the people rejoice!
O come to the Father through Jesus the Son,
And give him the glory, great things he hath done!

O perfect redemption, the purchase of blood!
To ev’ry believer the promise of God;
The vilest offender who truly believes,
That moment from Jesus forgiveness receives.

Great things he hath taught us, great things he hath done,
And great our rejoicing through Jesus the Son;
But purer, and higher, and greater will be
Our wonder, our transport, when Jesus we see.

I miss Dad. I loved him very, very much. I will see him again when I join the heavenly throng, but I miss him for now. This hymn typified Dad’s life. May it be the same for me, and may God receive all the glory!

https://www.pilgrimopc.org/

https://www.facebook.com/pilgrimopc

There is so much in this life that could be said when starting off with a title like this one, isn’t there? I’m sure you could think of at least one scenario in your own life in which this simple phrase has been true, if not multiple times. Life is hard when fear is always lurking just around the corner, and when you feel like no one ‘has your back,’ so to speak, that’s when fear breaks in.

The COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in multiple break-ins by fear in every sector of life. In my workplace, fear held sway when the Moderna and Pfizer vaccines were made available, and less than 50 percent of my coworkers took advantage of the opportunity to take the shots. Many were afraid of the health consequences of getting vaccinated; too few were concerned about the results of not become vaccinated. Now, we’re paying the price of their fears, as we are being required to wear painfully restrictive masks all day during our shifts to prevent one another from inadvertently spreading the virus to one another, vaccinated or not. In fact, 24 hours before the new policy was enacted, a staffer was diagnosed with the virus; because of the close proximity of other personnel, several of them have to be out of work, too. Fear broke into our workplace, leading to fewer than necessary becoming vaccinated, and creating additional health issues for the rest of us.

However, fear-driven selfishness is not limited to otherwise hardworking, generous adults (I call them this because most of these colleagues go above and beyond the call of their duties every day to meet the needs of our clientele, and I am honored to work among them). The clientele are with us because they are not known for pro-social behavior and attitudes. Even with all attempts made to teach, coach, cajole, and guide them into better understanding of expected behaviors and demeanors for life reintegrated with society, most remain intransigent, stuck in their ways, selfish at heart. And the more fearful they become at the prospect of leaving our facility for another one where they may not feel as secure for one reason or another, the greater the break-in will be of that fear–a home invasion of fear, if you will.

During the height of the pandemic in 2020, virtually no clients moved anywhere. All facilities statewide kept their clients to themselves. When moves were needed, extreme health precautions were taken at the sending and receiving ends, and transfers were kept to an absolute minimum. Since the arrival of vaccinations, transitions have become more frequent, as the clientele complete programming in one place and move to the next for their successive stages of development. As always, there will be the occasional client in the community that makes a nuisance of himself to the point that a change of scenery is sought for him, hoping that new faces and spaces will result in greater cooperation on his part. It often works.

Again, though, fear can play a role in such transitions for some clients. Some of my (recently) former students left recently for new facilities. They had made great strides in their development, but they had also failed to help themselves and had made nuisances of themselves. The last part earned them one-way tickets out of here. Another former student–one that I’d known when I first started here many years ago–also left. Several other clients went, too, but those three had been my students, so I felt their connection more keenly than the others. Still, the fear broke in on a client that was so afraid of what might happen to him at his destination that he made an (unsuccessful) attempt on his life. The fear of man is terrible. It cripples the mind and the will to live freely. It blinds the sight of the wise and renders them foolish.

I received word today about a friend named Ann. Ann was a delightful sister in the Lord. She battled cancer in recent years, but it wasn’t the cancer that took her life. The Lord took her home a couple of days ago. When cancer came, I’m sure Ann and her husband Rick experienced fear. I know for a fact that they experienced God’s grace and mercy. When fear broke in, they took it to God in prayer. Today, we pray for Rick and his family, their friends, and their church. Fear will not break in; the LORD is their salvation.

Psalm 27:1 says (ESV):

The Lord is my light and my salvation;
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold^[a] of my life;
    of whom shall I be afraid?

When fear breaks in, will it overcome you? Or will you take it to God?

“The mission of CASAS is to assist adults functioning at or below a high school level in attaining the basic literacy skills to function effectively on the job, in the community, and in the family. We accomplish this by assisting state and local education, training, social service programs and businesses in the design and delivery of quality education and training programs that meet the needs of the participants by providing products and services in curriculum management, assessment and evaluation systems.” https://www.casas.org/about-casas/our-mission. Accessed 4/6/21.

The CASAS GOALS tests in Reading and Math are standards in our department for determining a resident’s placement in educational programming, and in some cases, his/her qualification for certificates in certain courses, per the requirements of said courses. For example, the job-skills course I teach, WorkReady(tm), requires that participants have either a high school diploma/equivalency or scores of 220+ on the CASAS Reading and Math tests to be eligible for earning the certificate at the end of the 60-hour course.

As a result, I have some students taking CASAS testing this week to see if they qualify to the certificate-level of WorkReady. Two have already declared their intentions not to take WR if they can’t earn the piece of paper that says they learned anything in the class, while another fellow has said he’ll take the class either way. He took the Math CASAS test this morning and was pleasantly surprised by his score. It wasn’t high enough, but it was much higher than he was expecting. He left the classroom with joy in his heart about that, saying with a laugh, “I’m not as dumb as I thought I was!”

“Not even close!” I called after him. “Not even close.”

In the end, whether he gets his slip of paper saying he learned all the material in WorkReady or not, this man is ready to take this class and learn all he can from it. He stood up from the computer after taking the CASAS Math test and said, “I know more math than I realized. I can do this class, too. I can study math between now and the end of June and maybe pass the math requirement to get the certificate. I’m not as dumb as I thought!”

I replied, “Look, there aren’t many years between us. For too many decades, the educational establishment taught us that math and real life had nothing to do with each other. But in fact, if math isn’t taught in the context of real life, then it’s being taught wrongly. They screwed us up, but we don’t need to stay in that old reality! You with your carpentry skills can apply math and learn to put concepts and procedures to it textbooks style. And yes, you can bring that test score up with some study time. You don’t have far to go.”

How we all “measure up” is based on where we’re starting from and where we’re going to. Bite-sized, short-term goals are needed for confidence-building. As we develop confidence, then we can set the bar higher, push harder, and do more, but do not despise the days of small successes. Build on them and then reach for the stars.