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Recently, I had a friend of mine say to me,
“Tara, it must be hard to be you.”
Such an unusual statement, or is it a question?
I think it was a statement. I believe my friend truly feels it must be difficult to be like me. Or, maybe they were thinking out loud? I know I do that sometimes, too. Regardless of intent, this comment was referring to how keen I am for details. It troubles this individual with how often I over-clarify to ensure I have a clear picture of all the perspectives involved.
It’s true; I’m a detail girl.
No doubt there are times I wish I could turn my mind off with a remote, but that isn’t an option for this girl. I’m always thinking, always taking in information, processing it, connecting it to something else I’ve heard or read, and trying (unsuccessfully most times) to make sense of every single piece of information that is tossed at me in this thing called life. Even during slumber, I swear my mind produces mini-movies. Many times, I remember my dreams in full color, and on occasion, they actually make sense and seem as though they’d make a great beginning to a realistic fiction novel series.
So, in my friend’s defense–my mind is a very busy place. I am thankful others only see a portion of what goes on under my skull. If they saw what I see, they’d likely ask much more daunting questions.
But, “Is it hard to be me?”
That is the question I’ve been pondering for a few weeks now.
What troubles me about the comment from my friend is that I’ve never considered “it to be hard to be me.” I mean I have no idea what it is like to be someone else. Right? I do realize there are a lot of people in this life that seem far more carefree and less obsessed with how and why every little thing works and interacts with us as humans, but I have never considered their way of thinking “easier” than mine. In fact, sometimes I wonder if they are missing out on these staggering secrets of life that are hiding behind the windows of my soul. Funny fact.
Is it true that the thing we love about someone is many times the same thing that drives us batty? I think this is the case with my friend. Others see the good but are annoyed because it seems abnormal.
For example, when I create digitally, I often have twenty-five revisions of the same image–sometimes many more. I’ll move a dot to an “i” slightly left, slightly right, down a tad, and repeat that a few times while refreshing the page between image edits. Are you thinking of a student or someone you know who does this? (Just FYI…I get them.)
Even during casual conversation, I often paraphrase a statement and leave a long pause when visiting with one who is battling an issue. In my mind, I am doing my best to take in the whole story–to better see the one of whom I’m speaking’s perspective.
I am (and have been since a small girl) the one who will ask a jillion questions. I almost always have more questions than answers. I am a learner to the fullest definition of the word.
When I think back to my many roles in education, it has always been my attention to details that has set me apart. I would often get praised for the bizarre lessons and experiences I created for my students.
I had no door on my classroom just a vast open wall that visitors could walk in from the front door of the school. As a lab-class, we had lots of visitors. In fact, one of the student job’s was the “Greeter” to make our guest feel welcome while the rest of us continued learning. People were always curious to know what each week, or each day, might hold in our classroom.
Would the floor be covered in butcher block paper resembling a road? Would there be desks set up in the shape of an old automobile with a large cooking colander stuck to the two outer desks toward the front? Would the bottoms of those colanders be cut out with flashlights shining through as headlights in the dark room?
That was the case when our whole group reading selection was a story was about Henry Ford. Remodeling our room into a themed setting was not an uncommon experience in my classroom. Nor was finding me dressed in something far from the ordinary, everyday school outfit. One of my favorite lines from my third graders was, “I wonder what my teacher is going to be tomorrow?” They just never knew what might happen in room 201.
Every little detail mattered to me. And, these details fueled my passion for teaching and were gasoline on the fire of engagement for my students. Was it hard to be me? No. Not even a little. And, although others criticized me and wondered why do I care that much and go through all of that for one week’s story, I didn’t know another way to be.
As an organizer of professional development, I often had to pay attention to ensure every single room of the conference has extra double AA batteries for the microphones, new bulbs for the projector, seating to fit all of the attendees and quality presentations to engage our adult learners. Details. All of the specifics were mapped out and purposely planned to ensure the event would run like a fine-greased machine on “game day.”
Some say storytelling is my superpower. I don’t know if that is entirely true. However, I am a demonstrative, animated human, no doubt. Often referred to as the living emoji, the dramatic element of storytelling comes naturally for me. The truth is, telling stories (audibly or in writing) makes my creative brain smile and fills my heart with such delight. Do details play a part in this piece of Tara M. Martin? You better believe it!
Details.
This obsession might be due to my over-heightened senses, or maybe it is my imaginative mind finding order to the chaos swarming within? I’m not sure why, but I know this is me.
(Just to be clear, I know there was no harm meant when this friend originally stated the opinion above. It was likely one of those thoughts we often think as humans, right?)
But, to answer the statement/question of my friend.
No. It is not hard to be me. Being the real me feels very natural–like breathing in and breathing out.
Do we want others to be like everyone else? I feel like when one questions your character, it implies you are flawed. While this trait of mine might be seen as a flaw to some, it has brought me much joy and has been pivotal in my ability to take in content and learn at a pace that might not be the same as my peers.
Therefore, being me isn’t hard. It’s just what I do. It’s all I know.
If someone is born without a limb, they learn to move and manipulate with their other body parts. It seems hard to us who have fully functioning arms and legs, but that is all they know. If we were to ask them, “Is it hard to be you?” What might they say? They only see the hand of life that has been dealt them.
We are born with unique character traits and unique abilities. They are part of our REAL self, as are our physical traits. Embrace them. Many times they are the one thing that sets you apart from others and allows you to achieve extraordinary accomplishments.
I have no doubt, my character “flaw” played a huge part in me becoming the first generation graduate, and allowed me to excel with an outstanding GPA throughout high school, undergraduate, and graduate school.
Let’s empower the learners we serve to be them.
Don’t cause others to doubt their unique character because it is different than yours. Besides, who said your way of living and acting is the norm? Is there a norm? I think not. We are all fearfully and wonderfully made.
Remember: It’s not hard to be the REAL YOU, but it is incredibly hard to be someone else.
It is, also, complicated to please all who are looking in from the outside.
So, do what YOU do best. Be YOU. Be REAL.
I am an educator who values the individuality and uniqueness of others. Writing the blog R.E.A.L. is an outlet for me to pay it forward by sharing ideas, influences, lessons learned and exposing a little vulnerability while encouraging others to maximize their R.E.A.L. potential, as well.