I spent a lot of time thinking about what I want to say to all of you at Apple at this difficult, sad time, and I think I have it.

My Dad has always been a tech-head, an AV geek, a gadget guy -- whatever you want to call it. He was always bringing home the strangest things for us to try out - gigantic "personal video cameras", Betamax machines, VCRs, high-def projectors, cell phones, and so much more. Our house was filled with successes and failures that he loved to play with (and encouraged us to play with, too). From him I got my taste for experimentation --  a love for high-techerie of the domestic class. One day, my Dad brought home a suitcase and a box. Us kids stood around in the basement and watched him unpack them -- a computer, he said. Plug and play, he said. Apple, he said.

As you may have guessed, my first computer was an Apple IIc, the first "portable" computer. Every few years thereafter we got a new box... Apples, every one. And when I struck out on my own, opening my own business in 1995, I stocked it with Macs - beginning with my own 6300 and ending with a G4, which, might I say, still works great.

Today I have an iMac on my home desk, a Mac Mini at work, and a MacBook Pro for travel between the two. My iPhone keeps me connected everywhere I go. My kids have iPods. For her Bat Mitzvah, the only present my eldest daughter wanted was a MacBook, which everyone contributed to, and which she got in October of 2009.

It's safe to say I wouldn't be the creative, curious, fearless tech user I am today without Steve Jobs and his amazing vision for how computing ought to be.

Bless you and keep you, Steve Jobs. Know that you will always be remembered by the many young people you touched with your incredible inventions and visions. You will be missed.

Picture credit: http://apple2history.org/history/ah08/

Teachers (and their unions) are not the problem.
Hello? Anyone out there that hasn’t yet drunk the Tea Party cool-aid? Anyone? OK. Well, I guess that leaves me and you, then. So what I am wondering is, how did we get to this place where we’re all up in our teachers’ faces about how they’re fleecing us, taking their “summers off” and lazing around laughing at us taxpayers who are footing the bill for their lavish lifestyles and *gasp* pensions! Public employees do a lot of work for rather low pay, generally, and are expecting to reap the benefits of working for a bit less later on in life when they retire. What is wrong with that?  How come it is that teachers are being asked to “give back” – taking pay and benefit cuts – while Wall Street continues to hand out obscene bonuses and demand additional tax breaks and handouts from the government? Something is seriously wrong with this picture.

Monoculture creates bubbles, and bubbles burst.
People are social creatures. We talk. When everyone is buzzing about  dot coms or flipping houses, you can bet many, many people climb on board with the idea, creating a bubble. Since bubbles burst, we should always expect explosion as an outcome of blowing up a concept like the Internet or housing or credit default swaps. If corporations insist on creating monocultures with their super-restrictive, march-in-line, risk-averse HR departments, they have to live with the consequences of their bubble bursting at some point. It’s not so much that corporations are dinosaurs, as that corporations are often like fields of GM corn, monocultures totally unsuited to real-world evolution.

I convince myself that committee work is a chore, but it actually isn’t.
Last night I went to a committee meeting for my synagogue and I was totally dreading it. But it turned out to be GREAT! This kind of thing happens to me a lot, though. I often think an event will be awful, or a real drag, or a waste of time, but once I’m there, it’s totally worthwhile. What I’d like to know is, why do I do this to myself?

Sometimes I just feel bad, and it’s ok to say so.
I try to put a good face on everything, and make a real effort to appear cheerful and into everyone, but sometimes I am just not up to it. What I have to do, I now realize, is let people know when I am not feeling good. If I am up front about my state of being, life will be a lot easier for everyone, because I will no longer appear like a crazy person, smiling one second, biting someone’s head off the very next.  It’s ok to say, “Hey, I’m just not up to X right now.” Speaking up lets you know my limits, which is a kindness to us both.

OJ is best when it’s fresh squeezed.
So, on a more positive note, I picked all of our oranges on Tuesday and squeezed a load of fresh OJ. Not only is it more delicious than store-bought, but it’s so much more satisfying to drink.  Of course, it's also a lot more disappointing when your kids spill it all over the table at dinner, but what can you do?

Things might not always go your way, but you can’t give up.
Just because the budget got slashed for your project, or some crazy legislator is trying to hold a normal person responsible for a medical condition no one can control, do not despair! It is times like these that require one to stand up and fight, even when you feel like curling up under your covers and never coming out again. Don't give up, women and educators of the world. Read on!

Support is where you look for it (and not everyone will think to look there).
Sometimes we find supportive people where we least expect to find them. I am reading the book Forces for Good by Leslie R. Crutchfield and Heather McLeod Grant, and am learning a lot about unorthodox places to look for support. One example they cite is the group Environmental Defense, and the acceptance they received from McDonald’s, especially after they had been operating under a “sue the bastards” mentality. When the partnership worked out (and, btw, ended up creating a ripple effect throughout the fast food industry), they began to see the power of looking for support where they never thought they’d find it – in their opponents – rather than attacking those groups.

The network is powerful. Use it.
Along the same lines as number 2, the network is a critical piece of the puzzle when you’re trying to build something larger than your initial endeavor. I actually learned this lesson a long time ago, back in 1994, when I started my first company, which used a network, the Internet, to attract and retain business. We also used an internal network to support our clients. in 1996, and again in 1997 when I went to the bank to try to get a business loan, they looked at our assets (all computers) and said, “Bah. We can’t lend to you. You have no assets.” I tried explaining that the network of computers was a huge asset, but they just couldn’t (or wouldn’t) get it. Networks are powerful, because they are greater than the sum of their parts. If you know people all over the US, and you can get them to support what you’re doing, and you can motivate them to ask their friends to support them supporting you… imagine the impact you can have. There are many examples of this kind of network building and deployment in Forces for Good. I bet you’d recognize this one: Habitat for Humanity.

Competition isn’t always productive; in fact, it is counterproductive in many settings.
Though I didn’t learn this particular lesson this week, it did come home to me this week as I read and digested Forces for Good. One of the strategies (if you can call giving away your knowledge, trained employees, and ideas for free a strategy) is the idea that sometimes it is best NOT to compete, NOT to see resources as finite and therefore scarce, and NOT to drive others out of business. Sometimes when you don’t compete for resources, you actually can “grow the pie” as Crutchfield and Grant say. By helping others to spread your message, your method, or your ideals, you have far greater impact on the problem you’re trying to solve. Like the Exploratorium, for example. Get it? Good. Now go forth and cooperate amongst yourselves!

When you don’t understand how money works, you can’t make a better life for yourself.
So much money is thrown at the problems of hunger and poverty in the world. So many people are trying to figure out how to get people to stop being “poor” and from this condition dying of starvation, disease or simple exposure to the elements. Kim Klein, in her book Fundraising for Social Change says, “Only those willing to learn about [money] can control it.” This quote makes me think that we should be much more active and aggressive in teaching people about economics – about how money works. If people understood how money worked, they’d be better able to pull themselves out of poverty.  If volunteers or organizations looking to help the poor understood economics and the forces behind it, they could get at the root of the problem, making it more tractable. What do you think?

I don't trust people, and I should.
Life is so much harder when you distrust everyone you meet, because it means you can't rely on anyone but yourself.  When you rely on only yourself, life becomes exhausting and unmanageable on a regular basis. As of this week, I am on a mission to trust people more, to allow myself to rely on others without demanding an iron-clad guarantee that they'll never let me down. Step number one: I'm trusting you to help me do it.

It is hard to explain what a miracle is to a five-year-old, but it can be done.
So yesterday in the car, on the way to his weekly pre-afternoon-kindergarten play date, AJ asked me, "Mommy, What means miracle?" What means miracle? What exactly does it mean, and how can I explain it to this small person with so little experience, yet all of it, thus far, miraculous to him? So I went for the best example I could think of, the universal "baby-as-miracle" explanation. Defining miracle took most of the ride, but he grasped the concept. Then, just as we were getting there he wanted to know if we'd both actually been babies, and once he'd gotten that, had to hear his stats (8 lbs. 3 oz., 21 1/2 inches). A true miracle, that boy.

Energy is contagious.
At the Davis Entrepreneur's Meetup this week, we discussed plans to put on a one-day conference for entrepreneurs to learn how successful businesses got that way, and to showcase their companies and technologies. The energy in the room amazed and excited me -- suddenly everyone was jumping in with ideas, suggestions, people we should talk to, places large enough to host the event, and more. The more we talked, the higher our excitement rose, and we left the meeting with the momentum needed to actually get this thing off the ground. What an amazing group!

Sometimes going backwards beats going forward.
This seems like an odd thing to say, but this week I felt like I experienced a personal setback -- I felt like I was going backwards instead of making progress, and I hated it. But then someone pointed out to me that backwards is a good thing, that it allows you to revisit places and people that might've been neglected the first time around. Then it came to me: If I embrace this setback, let myself own it and be with it, I can -- and will --  learn from what I missed.

Language is worth studying, and worth teaching.
From RSA, a great treatment of Language and how it defines us:

I thought it would be loud with or without daughter number 2 at home, but it was oddly quiet.
I always assumed that things were loud and chaotic around my house because I have little kids at home (4 and 5), and they're just naturally noisy. But I was wrong. As it turns out, things are much louder when HH (12) is in the mix. She was away all week this week at Sly Park, and things seemed so quiet and sedate. AJ said it best when he said, "There's nobody to play with me," even though he had two able-bodied sisters in the room.

Good customer service is worth its weight in gold.
Today my brand new KitchenAid mixer broke. I've had it since Tuesday. Yes, this Tuesday. I used it for the second time today, and as I was letting it knead the dough, it suddenly stopped and smoke poured out of it. Of course I immediately turned it off and unplugged it. As soon as the plug fell away from the socket, I got on the horn with KitchenAid. I was steamed! But then something good happened. The phone was answered immediately -- no waiting. The lady on the phone was nice. She asked me to tell her all about it -- what happened right before? How long had it been running? What was I making? And she apologized for the problem, immediately offering to replace the unit without further ado. The experience was so stress-free and successful, when I was asked about whether or not I'd recommend KitchenAid to family and friends I said yes, despite the fact that their product had failed in the first week. Good customer service, people.

People are more OK with occasional mistakes than I think they'll be.
Yesterday I made a mistake. Yes, me! I know, totally never happens, right? Right. I felt awful, panicked, freaked out, and kind of like my friend would be SO MAD. As soon as I realized my error, I went right back to her place and apologized all over the place, offering to make it up to her 100 different ways. She was like, "Shannah, whatever. Mistakes happen. I've adjusted and it's no biggie. Relax! Go treat yourself to a nice cup of tea and put your feet up. It's a wonder you don't freak out like this more often, given the number of responsibilities you have every day. Breath, honey!" I have to let myself be OK with making mistakes. More important, though, I have to let myself understand that people can and will adjust, and that mistakes are not the end of the world, after all.

Feeling satisfied has little to do with how much you earn, and everything to do with how much impact you have.
As the weeks have turned into months, I find I am so satisfied with my life. I never thought that staying home with the kids would fulfill me, but it does. I feel like I'm really making a difference here, and I can see the results of my efforts every day. I'm a high impact worker. I'm making it happen at home, where what I do really matters.

The library is a special place for everyone.
I love our library for many reasons, but mostly because it is both a refuge and a playground that opens its doors to everyone, no matter their station in life. Make time to visit your local library often and soak up that goodness.

If you say you're going to be there, be there.
There's no excuse for building up someone's hopes, then letting them down. I saw this one in action on Tuesday. I told my son I'd help out in his class, and, due to a rodent emergency I had to wait for the exterminator and was late. For a second I stood at the door of his classroom and watched him. His movements were sluggish, his face a fallen cake. As soon as he saw me at the door, though, his whole aspect changed -- he sat up, smiled, began to actively engage in the game he was playing. When I sat down next to him, I said, "I bet you thought I wasn't coming, right?" He said, "Yeah, I did." I immediately apologized and we joined in the game with the other kids, just as happy as two peas in a pod. Next time, the mice will wait.

I disconnect intellect from feelings.
Somehow I cannot connect the two, and I am so mired up in this issue, I also have the same problem connecting the intellect of others with their feelings. I think I might have finally found the answer to the problem I have with students, and my kids sometimes, too... when I'm hot on a concept, trying to get you to understand something I'm teaching, or arguing about, I am like a heat-seeking missile -- it doesn't matter what or who is in my way, or how they're feeling about the issue, or if my tone of voice makes me sound impatient or intolerant, I am just barreling ahead and exploding.  This MO works for some people, who don't take things personally and who can follow my hyper delivery style, but it doesn't work for a number of people, and these people get offended, upset, put off, or otherwise hurt by it.  I have some work to do to fix it, but I will.

Books that are skinny and have lots of pictures and short, pithy sentences are at once simple and simplistic.
I read the book Ignore Everybody by Hugh MacLeod yesterday and on the one hand, I was delighted at how much fun it was to read and look at. The design of the book and its syntax are simple, the font easy on the eyes, the pages seldom overloaded or off-putting, the sentences frequently short and simple.  Ahhhhh.  On the other hand, I found some of his advice a bit simplistic, almost innocent, and original only infrequently. For example, "Put the hours in." Sure, ok, on some level, if I want to be really good at something, I have to practice. I get that. But it isn't a rule that if you work really hard, put in the hours, make the sacrifice, you will succeed on some level, even if only in your own little world. If that were true, then Van Gogh wouldn't have killed himself. He would've just worked harder.

There is nothing more exciting than your birthday. Nothing!
This week we have been anticipating our youngest daughter's 4th birthday, which is on Monday. Every night this week she has gone to bed saying, "When I wake up, I am one day closer to my birthday! Goodnight! I am sleeping! And it will be my birthday one day sooner!" Makes me wish it was my birthday, even though I'm too old already.

Mice are pretty cute in the pet store, not so cute under your sink or in your laundryroom or tearing up your paper bags and insulation.
Enough said.

This week my husband and I finalized our wills and advance directives. The will was easy and fairly simple to get through, but I found the advanced directive disturbing and difficult, so this week’s Five Things post has a lot to do with what I learned during the process of filling in the details of my directive.

1.     The decisions I make are hard right now, but would be even harder in an emergency. So, in the final analysis, it is best to make the decision to pull the plug while I am still able instead of putting that burden on a panicked family member at the moment of crisis.

2.     I don’t often think about my own death and what might worry those I’m leaving behind. Creating and approving this document made me hyper-aware of the impact I have on others now and in the future.

3.     Nobody really knows what will work and what won’t in terms of requesting certain actions be taken on your behalf. Death and dying are generally private affairs, so what actually happens to those left to make the hard choices is somewhat of a mystery. There isn’t a lot of legal precedence for certain requests, like refusal of or requests for particular medical treatments.

4.     Choosing among worst-possible scenarios involving disease or accident and eventual death is disturbing. Enough said.

5.     Everything is easier with a strong partner who knows the score. He needs to bounce ideas off of another person. I need help staying grounded. Lucky for us, we have support when we need it.  We’re far stronger together, and understanding one another this deeply is a blessing.

My previous post was about the value of practice, and I thought I’d continue the theme this week with a question. Why bother to practice writing? Or PowerPoint design? Or speaking? Because while good communication allows you to continue relationships, excellent communication extends relationships so much further. Excellence, however, can only be achieved through practice.

Think about it. Beckham didn’t become an amazing soccer player sitting on his tuchus*. Anyone who has ever watched him play the game knows that the hours of practice Beckham put into his game were worth it. And Sir Ken Robinson didn’t become a great public speaker without practice, either. Here’s a little taste:

True excellence, wouldn’t you agree?

Because we’re at the end of a short week, and all of us have turkey to either cook or consume before 5 PM tomorrow, I’ll keep this short. Practicing communication skills gives you the flexibility to address your audience, to meet their expectations, and to exceed them. I’ll say it again: good communication helps continue relationships, but excellent communication extends them so much further.

Next week: an example of excellent written communication that helps one company extend their client relationships.

*Yiddish for posterior region, or ass, if you will.

1. Running a book fair, even just half of one, is really hard work. It seems like it ought to be pretty easy, but it takes tons of organization and communication skills to pull off a book fair. I'll be glad when the week's over and my life goes back

2. It's ok if you don't win.  This week, my 11 year old daughter ran for class president. Today, she lost. There were tears. But... her teacher stopped me to say that she was by far the most impressive candidate, and that all the other teachers were buzzing in the staff room at lunch... "Whose kid is Hannah? Oh, yours? You are so lucky!" Just a minute ago, she proudly relayed this tidbit to her Grandma, no tears in sight. I'm so impressed with her.

1. 3. The midnight show isn't all that. Last year my eldest daughter (pictured) and I caught the midnight show of Harry Potter on premier day. It was fun and all, but guess what? This year, we're going to a matinee. So much nicer!
   

4. I honestly could not handle being a single mother. For several days I've been alone with my four kids, and I am struggling. All I can say about that is, "thank goodness the in-laws arrived at last!"

5. Tests are often stupid. But multiple choice tests to indicate expertise in any kind of writing is flat-out moronic. I am trying out Elance this week, and in order to verify my skills, I've been running through 40 question, multiple choice tests. I can understand it for skills like using a particular program, or proving that you can do the kind of math needed for bookkeeping, but for business writing, SEO copywriting or academic writing? Come on! Some of the questions on the tests were about how to work with various versions of Word on a PC. Fine, but what if you don't work on a PC? How does that measure your ability as a writer, exactly? Weird.

So I have been pondering the question, "What is the value of practice?" I am pondering questions about the value (and by extension the meaning) of practice because I teach writing to people who don’t consider themselves naturally gifted. Maybe the real question is, “Why do people have trouble with writing?” I believe it comes down to practice.

The Most Destructive Myth
Why is it we consider writing (or shall we go with the more universal "communication"?) a talent some people have and others lack? Can it be true that a person simply "lacks communication skills" and therefore should be exempted from tasks that involve writing? I don't buy it (for most of the population, including scientists, engineers and techies). I believe this idea about writing talent represents a destructive myth that teachers, friends, mentors and parents perpetuate with abandon throughout a student's career. "Oh, dear. You just don't have much of a knack for writing. Perhaps you should go into the sciences or mathematics instead." Good Lard! What if my flute teacher, upon hearing me play for the first time said, "Oh, dear, Shannah, you simply don't have much talent on the flute. Perhaps you should consider theater instead?" Maybe my life would've been different (“but that's another story and shall be told another time").

Early Encouragement for Speaking Works, So...
I guess what I am trying to get at with the examples above is that writing does not come naturally to many of us, perhaps because we are criticized so much when we do it. Think about it. Did our parents criticize us every time we tried to speak as young children? Not really. No. I don't remember telling any of my four offspring to "stop talking like a baby" when they were babies, to use different syntax or words to express themselves. What I remember doing was getting really excited when they'd try to communicate with me, to show them an encouraging face, to help them practice speaking whenever they wanted to engage me in conversation. I encouraged their practice, and now my house is filled with the sound of voices sharing thoughts, excitements, disappointments and important information all day long. My kids are communicators. At least, out loud.

Why Not for Writing, Too?
I'm sure you heard the but coming... BUT... do we do the same thing with writing? No. Do we encourage young writers? Mostly, it seems, we don't. We start by picking at neatness, handwriting, then spelling, then grammar, rules and more rules and the criticism for breaking those rules just keeps on coming. Encouragement is rare, just writing for the sake of writing is rare, creativity flies out the window as children get bogged down in the morass of critical feedback. People are told they simply don't have "talent" (whatever that means!). Perhaps these clumsy kids should think of careers in fields that aren't so dependent on the written word. Then they come to University. And, holy crap! They have to take writing courses to graduate! And again with the cursing and shaking of little fists. And they file into my classroom with resentment oozing from every pore asking, "Why, God, why must you test my faith in humanity this way again??!!"

Believing in the Value of Practice
I am calm in the face of this challenge. I accept it. Why? Because I believe in the value of practice. Just like with talking, playing the flute, or hitting a ball, the extent to which you become a proficient writer hinges on the amount of time you are willing to practice the skill. Saying that does not take away from the fact that certain people are gifted writers, just like certain people are gifted mathematicians, flautists or baseball players. I may never be Rampal, because I just don't have his talent, but that doesn't mean I can't play the darn flute pretty darn well if I practice!

So, what is the value of practice? The value of practice equals the skills you acquire through the action it implies. Practice only means as much as the time you are willing to cede to it over the course of your life.

Writing is no different from any other skill, any other task, so don't worry so much. Since you no longer worry, you can use that time to practice your writing skills.

How do you practice your writing skills?