Frequently I have a feeling of discomfort and disquiet when I’m doing less than my best. It’s a very very quiet shout of dismay from my basal ganglia sending this "felt sense" of wrongness. One of my goals for developing emotional intelligence is to notice this warning before I've opened my mouth or taken some action that's difficult to retract.

Several years ago, Anabel Jensen, the President of Six Seconds, wrote an article about how children pay such close attention to us. She concluded, "If you want to be a better person, find a child to love."

This advice came back to me a few days ago in the grocery store, and then again leaving a Chinese restaurant.

In our family we often discuss "taking care of" -- taking care of each other, taking care of the Earth, taking care of ourselves. It's a kind of family mission statement. Given the work I do, I've thought of myself as doing a solid job modeling this core value. Max, now 5, reminded me that I'm missing many opportunities.

The four of us, Patty (Mama), Emma (big sister, 7), Max and I, are in the grocery store picking up a few items for dinner. Max and Emma both want to ride in the carts. So we're carting our way through the produce section, and the kids are being reasonably self-contained, waiting at least 30 seconds between asking for one thing or another (thankfully mostly on the lines of, "Oh yummm, can we get more tangerines?")

Then Max points at a plastic-encased sugar ball advertised as a candy apple (I guess there must be SOME fruit in there). I prepare to argue for a healthy choice, when he says:

"We should put that away. It doesn't go there."

True enough -- some other parent must have prised it from the iron grip of a tiny child and hidden it among the broccoli.

Patty and I both go into some evasion; "Well someone will..." or "We don't know where it goes..."

"I know where it goes," Max asserts. "Right over there."

Clearly a boy with a keen eye for sugar. And for taking care of. So I pick up the apple and follow Max's direction. No big deal... Except that it's the first time I can remember doing something like this.

My internal justification is, "it's someone else's problem." Yet my value is to serve -- because I know that when I do so I let go my ego protection and arrogance and become a better human. It took Max's innocent point of view to remind me of the opportunity to put my values into action. And how many of the world's problems would just evaporate if we all stopped waiting for someone else to solve them?

Then a week ago the four of us were leaving a Chinese restaurant opening fortune cookies. Maxie said, "Mama, will you read mine?"

"Sure," she says taking the fortune, "it says you are a sweet person who loves digging and playing."

"No it doesn't," declares Emma with the vast authority of a seven-year-old.

Max and I walk ahead while Patty and Emma sort this out. Patty reports to me that Emma says, "But it's lying to say that." Patty explains that really it is being kind. "Well I'll think about it," Emma concludes.

The story reminds me of a book that came out when I was teaching. In _The Students Are Watching_, Ted and Nancy Sizer talk about the incongruence between words and deeds in education. For example, while we declare cheating as anathema, there are dozens of small (and large) ways parents and teachers cheat (such as teachers turning back homework a day after we said we would, or parents parking 'just for a minute' in a reserved space).

I thought about it a lot as a teacher. I eventually came to the conclusion that while I am flawed and imperfect, what perfection I find comes from the grace of learning. That human perfection is not an end but a pursuit -- not a goal but a process. My best teaching then, and now, is "holding myself accountable out loud."

As parents, educators, and perhaps even more as leaders, we have an opportunity to look carefully at the match between words and deeds, between intentions and actions. I think that I, and probably many of you, focus so much on the bigger vision that we lose sight of the mundane, daily, taken-for-granted moments.

Yet in the end, the vision is a stacking up of ten million small actions, ten million mundane choices. The integrity of the outcome will be determined by the strength of the small interactions.

So for this week, here is an exercise. Imagine you've got Max and Emma -- or perhaps you own small whistle-blowers -- watching you like a hawk, maybe even watching your thoughts. Not watching the grand gestures and the big sacrifices -- but watching the tiny moments that so often fall through the cracks. Is there one place you can hold yourself to a higher standard?

For me, as we approach the Thanksgiving holiday in the US, I will focus on a gratitude. My higher standard for the next week will be appreciating even the annoyances -- tomorrow we're going to travel across the country and I know I'll have plenty of opportunities to be frustrated. I'm going to see them as reminders that I can show my children that I'm a learning, growing person.

Because they certainly will be watching.

Appreciatively,
- Josh

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©2006 Joshua Freedman, Director of Programs, Six Seconds Emotional Intelligence Network (www.6seconds.org). Please subscribe to...
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