I’ve lost my temper

Just as the film showing in a local planetarium was beginning, a howl came from the back of the auditorium. A small child, it seemed, was frightened by the 3-D effects and wanted to leave. And his cries became a tantrum, distracting the rest of the audience until a parental-unit finally decided to remove him about five minutes into the movie.

It’s not just children who lose their tempers, of course. The stereotype of an old man often includes temper tantrums. “Get off my lawn, you little brats!” sort of thing. My mother who is showing significant signs of dementia now loses her temper often. I can remember my father whacking me for misbehavior as a kid after being hollered at. Honking horns of impatient drivers are common.

My personal temper was probably at its worst as a beginning high school classroom teacher. I lost it with some kid probably four or five times every day. Which was, I’m sure, those kids' goal - to watch an authority figure lose control.

Over the years, my outbursts have decreased. I went from multiple daily tantrums to just a couple a month. And for the last few years, I don’t know that I’ve lost it with anyone or anything - at least that I can remember.

This is not to say I don’t still get angry. Dangerous drivers. Stupid politicians. Idiots in the checkout lane of the grocery store. But this is an internal seething. Well, sometimes I remark on bad drivers aloud. But usually I consciously try to empathize with these fools and reassure myself that getting to my destination a couple minutes later is not the end of the world. Oh, and that I was once a young and reckless driver myself.

I often think about a book I read a few years ago called The Stoic Challenge by William Irvine. At its heart, it suggests that things that trouble us are placed there by the gods to test us. If we get angry, the gods win; if we instead face the obstacles calmly and constructively, we win. I like to win.

Keeping one’s cool is perhaps easier for lucky guys like me. I don’t struggle economically. I have a great family and wonderful friends. All the work I do is volunteer and there are no bad bosses in my life anymore. I use social media only for contact with people I know and do not discuss politics online. Front page troubles are miles away, if not continents away, from my quiet neighborhood in a safe suburb. What exactly is there for me to be angry about? Concerned, yes. Mad, no. 

I’ve lost my temper, but in a good way and am delighted to live an anger-free life. 

Join me.

Where’s the peanut butter?; managing technology system change

Image source

The state of Minnesota’s judicial branch has changed some information systems. The pushback has not been positive. I sympathize with those that manage information systems, especially when needed changes are made to them. But I also sympathize with the end users.

According to the Minneapolis Star Tribune, a number of legal workers are not happy with a change in information access systems here in MN. An editorial (Restore justice partners data access, Dec. 13) took Minnesota's Judicial Branch to task and a Chief Justice of the Minnesota Supreme Court and the state court administrator responded (Online records transition necessary, orderly, December 19, 2023.) by writing:

While these [replacement] programs may not offer the one-stop-shop functionality of Odyssey Assistant, they absolutely provide our partners with the information they need to do their jobs, maintain public safety and ensure access to justice. To suggest otherwise is simply inaccurate.

The judicial branch recognizes that some of our justice partners have struggled to adjust to these newer, less familiar electronic tools.

Many others have been successfully using these new tools for quite some time now.

As a technology director for two public school systems over a 28 year span, I had the responsibility for overseeing quite a number of technology changes. Student information systems, special education systems, financial systems, email systems, and, of course, personal computer operating systems each changed multiple times over the years. And each change brought a degree of distress to the end users despite trainings, reasonings, and careful planning.

One especially difficult transition was from the TIES Student Information System to a commercial system around 2017. TIES was a consortium of primarily metro area schools that, among other things, created and maintained a highly customizable information system for its members. It was great since it was made to support the export of data required by the state, of course, but If a school district decided it wanted a button to be red instead of blue, TIES could make that happen. It was a long used and familiar set of programs.

But when TIES dissolved and schools were forced to adopt a new system, the users found it distressing that the national company didn’t really care if they wanted the buttons to be blue or red. And of course, buttons, tabs, and menus were all in new places in the new system.  A task that may have taken one click, now might have required three clicks! That this system was used in over a dozen buildings by teachers, administrators, secretaries, as well as district office personnel, somewhat complicated matters. And the data it managed - attendance, grades, schedules, contact information - were critical.

During each change process, I always tried to remember the old innovation adoption theory: with any new technology there would be innovators, early adopters, late adopters, and laggards. The theory certainly seemed to hold true among school personnel. I remember getting the stink eye from some staff months after a system change.

An Apple representative once shared an analogy regarding technology change. He submitted that changing a computer system was like moving to a new house. Just after moving, you become frustrated because you can’t find the light switches, you forget which cupboard holds the peanut butter, and you don’t remember if you turn left or right in the bedroom hallway to get to the bathroom. It takes some time before you become familiar with the new place. Until then, it is hard to remember why you moved in the first place - more space, nicer location, better layout. Likewise, adjusting to a new computer system takes some time.

So to both the administrators and the users of the judicial system databases,  remember that the transition, while painful, will be temporary. You will eventually learn where you put the peanut butter.

Living near water

Sunset on Middle Jefferson

Earlier this week I walked a favorite trail. Nine Mile Creek in suburban Minneapolis stretches through a quiet valley surrounded by nice homes. The portion I most enjoy follows a creek from a small park to the Minnesota River - about two and a half miles each way. What I like most about the park and the walk is that it follows a lovely creek nearly the entire distance. (see below)

There is something about being near natural water sources that has alway appealed to me. Since moving to Minnesota in the late 1980s, I have lived in lake homes for all but five years. My townhouse I purchased for retirement living has a pond outside its back door. 

I owe my love of lake life to a trip my family took to Minnesota from Iowa when I was a kid. We visited former neighbors who had a farm in the western part of the state. What I loved about the farm was that it sat on one of Minnesota’s 10,000 (some say 15,000) lakes. Just behind the barn was a dock and boat with enough horsepower to pull a water skier. While I had enjoyed swimming in lakes and gravel pits in Iowa, I had never considered actually living on a lake. After this trip, I had a life goal. I wanted to be able to walk out of my house and jump off a dock.

Memories of living on the shallow, mud bottom lake of Middle Jefferson are among my favorites. Pelicans, seasonal loons, geese, egrets, ducks, and herons were common. Muskrats played on the shore in the cattails. Turtles laid eggs in the lawn. Sunsets were lovely viewed from the screen porch and, after a long day of work, restorative.

Among the best memories are those that were made with my kids and the grandkids. Cruising and tubing in the pontoon boat. Surviving trips to Dinosaur Island and past the Pirate’s Tree*. Swimming off the boat. Cross country skiing and snowshoeing on the lake in the winter was great. Snowmobile tracks made good skiing trails. The slope down to the lake was a great sledding hill.

In my travels, I often seek out waterways to hike and bike. The Great Glenn Way in Scotland. The coast of Portugal. Havasu Creek in Arizona. The Blue Lagoon on Malta’s Comino Island. Isle Royale in Lake Superior. The Mekong and Danube rivers. The Superior Hiking Trail on Minnesota’s North Shore. The water helped make the adventures memorable.

While I wish my current residential pond was larger and didn’t occasionally dry up during droughts, I am fortunate to be living in a place where it is virtually impossible to walk without circling a lake or following a creek. My nearest city park has miles of hiking trails leading past wildlife filled ponds. I don’t need to go far to satisfy my love of water.

While I hope it won’t happen for a few years, I have my “senior living” apartment building already chosen. It sits on a small lake around which there are walking and biking paths. Surprised?

* A small island sat near my home.  It was where dinosaurs lived. Thankfully they couldn’t swim and in the winter when the lake iced over, they hibernated. We were safe. The Pirates tree sat near a small passage from Middle Jefferson to Big Jefferson Lake. From its branches, pirates would drop and seize unsuspecting pontoon boats. We were very lucky that the pirates were alway on coffee breaks when we passed through.

Morning on Nine Mile Creek