Brilliant … But Bouncy

Do The Next Right Thing Instead of Worrying About the Last Wrong Thing.

Dylan is having a rough time in Sociology – a really, really rough time.

Unlike Dylan, his professor is exceptionally detail-oriented. She has provided enough detail on his syllabus to make it eight pages, including “tips” like “bring a pencil” and “use the bathroom before class.”

For Dylan, who prefers getting the gist of things and moving on… he can hardly see straight, trying to read this syllabus. He can’t figure out what’s due when, or what’s essential homework versus what’s just a suggestion.

In addition, she’s provided dozens of “extra” handouts and links (many broken) so that students can learn more about the concepts they’re exploring in the class. These aren’t for the test – they’re just for “fun.”

For Dylan, these extras are just confusing. Why are they there if he doesn’t really need them? His head has been reeling all semester.

After missing two homework assignments (“I really just didn’t see them!”) and getting D’s on his first two exams (“Why is it so hard for me?”) – Dylan had an epiphany.

Dylan started doing the things he should have done right out of the gate: he got his student support services documents, he texted the members of his Sociology project group, he got a mini-syllabus (from me) with the extraneous crap deleted.

Then he texted me: “What else can I do?”

This was not a whine. It meant – “I’m on a roll! What else can I do?” He was doing everything he could to put his life back together and be hopeful, even in Sociology.

I asked Dylan about his change of heart – his mature, adult response to this horrible situation.

He texted back: “My worry depletes rapidly when I do the next right thing instead of worrying about the last wrong thing.”

WOW, I thought. That is an utterly brilliant statement.

I told Dylan it was brilliant. I said that I thought that would make a great bumper sticker, and that seriously everyone should hear it. But Dylan (correctly) pointed out that it’s much too long for a bumper sticker.

Then my sister said she wanted to use it as wallpaper for her daughter’s wall. And I said, “I think I will have t-shirts made!”

Then I remembered: My next door neighbor makes t-shirts.

So, I went out and had Dylan’s entire quotation emblazoned onto t-shirts for my whole family. And when Dylan arrived home for spring break, I gave him one.

“Did I really say it just like this?” he asked.

“Verbatim,” I said.

“If I’d known you were going to make t-shirts,” he said, “I would have been more concise.”

Fortunately, I put the inscription on the backs of the shirts, and Dylan has long hair. Under his hair is the crux of the quote:

Do the next right thing instead of worrying about the last wrong thing.

It’s a motto by which I will try to live.