"You have reached the pinnacle of success as soon as you become uninterested in money, compliments or publicity." -- Eddie Rickenbacker
A few weeks ago, a former student came back to visit. She's a recent graduate who now works as a television reporter, and I turned over my journalism class to her that day so she could tell them what it's like in the real world. And the darnedest thing happened when we were talking before class: she told me that all the little things I made her do, all the guidelines I had the students follow on the assignments, all the rules I set down for my classes...once she got out there reporting for a living, and answering to a real boss, it all made sense. In fact, she said, it's all made her one of the more on-the-spot people at that station. Her bosses have noticed this, and have given her more opportunities because of it. She told the class the same thing, too.
It'd be easy for me to get a swelled head over this. Instead, it gave me reassurance. It's the kind of feedback I appreciate most: hey, what you did back then helped me get where I am now, and I appreciate it. That's why I come to work each day.
One of our occupational hazards is the instructor evaluation. We have to do it. And sometimes they're fun to read. A former colleague used to talk about how reading evaluations was something you did with a good bottle of wine nearby to help you through it. Sometimes the feedback is good, sometimes it's perceptive, but other times it's painful. The kids, they can be sharp sometimes. Other times, they look at it from the perspective of someone who's just trying to get through something temporary, while what frustrates you is that you're trying to train them for a career, and for the rest of their lives. I never have been that concerned that you like what I teach you now; instead, I'm teaching you for that moment a few years from now when you have to know what to do when the bell rings.
Evaluations hurt doubly when you're young and starting out, not only because the students can be sharp and pointy in their remarks, but because you know your future prospects at a job ride on them. They're not the only thing, but let's just say you're acutely aware of them. They also hurt because your skin hasn't yet thickened, as it will in a few years. I've seen enough sideways comments now that when I brief the students on the evaluations, I give them self-deprecating (and made up) examples of the kinds of comments that won't provide me with the constructive criticism I need.
(And there is a kind of feedback that I do need, of course. But comments about my hair or my clothes, or how you think such and such an assignment was "stupid," don't help, especially if you don't tell me why it was so "stupid." Was it "stupid" because you didn't see how the material fit into the overall course, or was it "stupid" because you didn't study for it? In the first case, somewhat legitimate gripe. In the second case, your failure to prepare was your own undoing.)
As you go on, one gift you get is the ability to deal with these kinds of things, and to tune out what doesn't matter. You do the best you can, treat the students with kindness and fairness, handle the material with competence, but have high expectations. Then you learn that, even then, you can't please everyone. But even with that, if you're fortunate you develop a kind of peace about that. You know what you're doing. You've fixed the things that were broken. You listen to your conscience when you're handling a situation. And you're able to sleep at night after the decisions you've made. Over time, you get that quiet satisfaction that comes with doing your job well, with heart and integrity.
And you find that's the real reward. Like Cap'n Eddie said, the other things don't matter. You know the real rewards come from within. (Or the somewhat parallel Arline Feynman rule: "What do you care what other people think?")
Awards are okay. (I've won one or two, probably by default.) And money is helpful. (Though too much can become a trap.) And publicity is okay (though I avoid it). I have a very nice education and a decent mind. If I wanted, I could probably become a big deal at some big research institution. But I don't need that, and I'm not sure I want it. All the money in the world, all the compliments and awards, and all the publicity I could get don't matter as much as knowing I can come in each day and do what I do to the best of my ability, and come home feeling I did something. That's the real reward. And when a former student comes back with stories of life in the real world, and says "Now I understand," that's as good as a bowl of ice cream.
Cap'n Eddie, you were on to something.
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