Graduation Speech Time -- Again

Graduation Speech for the "Average" Student

Honor those hard-working grads who didn't quite make it to Harvard

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By Susan DeMersseman / May 24, 2004

BERKELEY, CALIF.

Graduation season is here. Soon millions of students will be leaving for college or other pursuits. But I wonder how some of them will be affected by the speeches and awards at their commencement ceremonies?

I, along with other relatives and friends, have listened to hours of speeches and watched dozens of the 4.0's come up to the stage for award after award. As I've watched the faces of those not called, I've wondered what it must be like to be a solid "C" student, or one who struggled to hold on to a "B." Did those "average" students feel that, after all the hoopla for the award winners, their fate of mediocrity was sealed?

As I sat through one of the longer events, I started composing an address for those "other" kids:

Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, congratulations to the valedictorian and the 4.0's. I wish them well, but this is for the rest of you.

You're not off to Stanford or Harvard. Maybe you're going to community college or state college, or your second or third choice. Or maybe you're going to try something different. Good for you! You are all about to do great things. Ahead of you are opportunities for success that you haven't even imagined yet. Maybe success by worldly standards; maybe success by your own standards.

I have one piece of wisdom to share. Much more of our future than we sometimes realize is a matter of chance, and a lot is what we make of those chances.

You might, for example, get a part-time job with a landscaper, find that you love it, and go on to create beautiful environments that bring joy and pleasure to others. Your college roommate's dad might own a business that gives you a summer job, and you might end up running the company. Or you may find the only class that meets a requirement one semester is "Geography of Water" - and you get hooked and eventually design clean-water systems for developing countries.

One of my favorite sayings is, "God laughs, when man makes plans." I don't mean don't plan. But some of those perfectly planned 4.0 lives may take unexpected turns and so will yours. Be ready to make the best of them. The doodles that always got you in trouble may be the groundwork for a cartoon series, the design for a new building, or might enhance the lessons for your future students.

One of those 4.0's might find a medical cure for cancer. But you might find a cure for loneliness. One day you might comb an old woman's hair into a neat little bun, push her wheelchair to a spot next to her favorite rosebush, and listen as she tells you about her garden.

Whoever you were on Commencement Day, whatever others expected of you - well, that's done. Now you get to reinvent yourself. If you were always the super-neat one, you get to loosen up. If you were the class clown, you get to try being serious.

Treat every class as if it's important. You never can tell. Even if you don't become an astronomer, that astronomy class that filled a requirement may turn out to be valuable. You'll acquire study skills that will help you in the next class. Or some star-filled night you may lie on the grass with your children and teach them about the wonders of this universe.

Have faith in yourself. Most wonderful, successful people never went to the stage for an award. Many were a lot like you. They kept their minds and hearts open, found a niche, and made the most of it.

So can you. Congratulations.

Mother's Day -- Again

If you are a father or if you know of a mother who is without a spouse or without the father's support, one of the kindest things you can do is to help her children celebrate her day. It's so good for kids to understand that not everything is about them and to experience the incomparable joy of making someone else  happy. In the process of preparing something special for their mother children learn how to put themselves in her place and create something that speaks to her desires. The following article addresses the different languages that express love -- from a new hedge trimmer to a walk in the park. For a mother  who might not expect a celebration of some sort it will be an even greater joy. 

What Mother's Day language do you speak?

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By Susan DeMersseman / May 6, 2005

BERKELEY, CALIF.

I know there are some women who would be very unhappy if they received a new hedge trimmer for Mother's Day or some other special event. I am not one of those women. I would instead be upset to receive an expensive bouquet of roses. But I realize there are women who feel exactly the opposite.

Understanding these differences has a big effect on relationships, understanding that there are many different languages of love.

I like to bake, but my husband, who is not fond of sweets, would not hear, "I care about you," in a batch of freshly baked cookies. He might appreciate the thought, but he would be much happier to get me out of the kitchen and off to a hike in the mountains.

We can learn to hear "I care about you" in someone's gesture, even if it is not in "our language." Over the years we learn that each person has a unique way that they express affection and love, and each person has a unique set of gestures they perceive as loving. Understanding on both sides makes it work.

At first, I didn't hear "I care for you," when my husband washed my car. Originally I thought, "I can just run it through the car wash." But then I realized that it was important to let my husband speak his language of love to me and equally important that I read it that way.

Gifts and gestures that express caring vary so broadly. One friend shared that her preferred combination of loving gifts and gestures was as follows: any high-tech add-on to her computer and someone to follow her toddler around and pick up all the clutter.

My own objection to expensive bouquets is not to flowers. I love flowers, but I am a gardener and an annoyingly practical person. I would rather have a plant for the yard. Once in a while, I do appreciate the gift of a certain perfume, but wonderful gardening tools are my real luxury. And even more wonderful - someone to follow me around and pick up the clippings as I prune.

As a mother, I have found wish lists a good way to help with translating these unique languages we have. My Mother's Day wish list always includes the request that the sometimes-unsweet siblings will be sweet to each other.

The first wish list included what I wanted for dinner. From that wish list, my family developed a traditional Mother's Day menu to speak my language. And just as important - though I do not like breakfast in bed - I "oohed" and "aahed" when my children were little and graced me with this honor. Breakfast in bed is not, in my language, a loving gesture, but it was in theirs and so it was important to "hear" and understand their language.

This comprehension of others' emotions even when not perfectly expressed is maybe the most loving language of all.

To this day, I remember the way that my father raved about the weird little salads that 5-year-old me served him on jar lids. One of his "favorites" was crumbled up saltines on shredded carrots! I love that he understood my language. His language was the understanding.

• Susan DeMersseman is a psychologist and parent educator.

Parents, please don't say, "See...."

Don’t say, “SEE!”

As most of my readers know I am a psychologist with 30 years of working with parents and children in schools. I’m working on a book about some of what I’ve learned, insights and strategies that seem to make the most important job in the world a little easier and more effective. I continue to work with parents each week who have suggested that I get a move on with this book or start posting chapters of it on my blog. I’m listening and so will start posting “bits” if not chapters.

The bit that is getting the most nods of insight recently has been the caution to not say, “See how easy that was.” This parental comment usually follows the child finally doing something that they resisted or avoided or something that was hard for them. It’s natural to want to remind them that all the fuss was not necessary and that the task was really “easy.” But I suggest a different response.  “See how easy that was.” minimizes for some children the effort and courage it took to accomplish the task. It also robs the parent of the opportunity to praise and reinforce one of the most important character strengths – to do something even when it is hard. So instead of “See how easy…” I suggest something like the following. “I’m proud of you for doing something that I know was hard (or uncomfortable or scary) for you. You must feel proud of yourself too.”  Rather than feeling like a big wimp for the initial resistance, it helps the child build confidence in his or her own resources to face future challenges.

Spring Cleaning

Taking care of too much plenty / All of that stuff we accumulate has to go someplace

Susan DeMersseman, Special to The Chronicle

Published 4:00 am, Saturday, May 29, 2004

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Stores and catalogs now offer a wonderful variety of storage containers, but for many of us, our possessions have outgrown even the most clever "storage solutions." We have been so successful at acquiring things that we now need a system for editing what we have so successfully acquired.

My husband has a theory that we operate in a sort of flat-top pyramid pattern in relation to our possessions. On the incline it is acquire, acquire, acquire. On the plateau it is use, use, use and on the decline it is get rid of, get rid of, get rid of. It seems many of us Baby Boomers are at the top of that down slope.

Offspring come in very handy in this department. Second-string possessions work nicely for first apartments. Unfortunately, many of those offspring have their "first apartment" under our roofs and bring more stuff home! I do know a few people who find it easy to get rid of things. One is my friend Pam, who for years thought she was 5 feet 8 and was thus responsible for passing along to me some wonderful items of clothing. Then she realized that she was 5 feet 4 and discovered the petite department, which cut severely into my wardrobe. My friend Holly follows the rule, "If you don't use it within a year, get rid of it." If I followed that rule I would have nine things in my closet.

There are even people who find it easy to place things on the curb for Goodwill. Others of us need a specific recipient. We can open our closets and cupboards easily if a friend can use something, but we can't just "get rid of it." There is a special pleasure in finding someone who can actually use something we've been saving for years.

Eyeing my basement long ago, my husband commented, "You're saving things for people you haven't even met yet." I think it was meant as a criticism, but it made perfect sense to me. Some of us have that hopeful nature that causes us to see potential value in almost everything. And so we store these items that "could be" useful -- or be used to make something useful -- until we finally realize we are not ever going to put in the work that turns their potential value into real value.

I had an elderly friend who used to say, "Don't buy work." Many of us have not only bought it, we are storing it. The ultimate way to edit possessions, of course, is to move. The prospect of packing, transporting and unpacking an item really makes one question the importance of that item in one's life. Though I have lived in the same house for 28 years, I've helped many friends move. It's comforting to see that others have as much stuff as I do. Or to see that others also have a sentimental attachment to almost every item that has ever entered the house. One strategy we used successfully in a few of these moves was to make three categories: useful, sentimental, and both useful and sentimental. The last pile was a must-keep and the other two depended upon how useful or how sentimental.

Having some sort of system for dealing with the need to move things along is a necessity at certain times in our lives. Polling friends and drawing from experience, a few suggestions for editing possessions follow:

-- Garage sales can be a lot of work for the payoff; do one with a group or consider alternatives.

-- If you have youngsters, find a family with kids a few sizes smaller than yours and make regular deliveries of usable clothing, toys and books (hold on to all Legos and baseball cards). Keep a cupboard of "pass along" items, where your kids can regularly put things they no longer wear and hopefully develop a lifelong habit.

-- Create a system at work or among friends of sharing "bad purchases." Friends know that the strange shades of green they mistakenly buy will look good on me and I know to whom to give the red things I mistakenly purchase.

-- Big items such as tables and dressers that you can't yet part with can be placed on long-term loan with good friends.

-- Call local schools to donate craft supplies for after-school programs.

-- For current and nice clothing, explore the consignment clothing stores, but call ahead to find out what their specifications are.

-- If you don't want items to be resold, check with local churches that help those in need. Find other places to use items that grow dusty in your home. One first-grade teacher brought her bread-making machine to school, and her students are treated to warm bread on Monday mornings. Another habit that can keep us from bringing even more into the mix is to be aware of that dreamy retail glow that surrounds things when they're in the store.

Instead, try to imagine attempting to fit the item in with all the other stuff. The concept of enough is a hard one to nail down. For some of us it just keeps moving up with our capacity to acquire. For others the point comes when we run out of space or when the place in our minds that inspires acquisition is busy with other things.

Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/homeandgarden/article/Taking-care-of-too-much-plenty-All-of-that-2771893.php#ixzz2QN6pf9eO