Lessons from Work -- Including how to make a mayo sandwich!

I've learned a lot of things from my new job at SubAcute; things that I would call really useful skills. For example, convincing kids to go to bed when it's only 9pm, or seeing and stopping conflicts almost precognitively. This stuff will be REALLY useful if I'm ever a parent. Or a teacher.

Other things are only useful for the immediate situation I'm in. There is a child we have who refuses to eat most food and gets amazingly cranky as a result. I've found that by honoring this client's request to make a mayonnaise sandwich the correct way I can save myself a lot of grief in the coming hours. Will this ever work for any other person in the world? Probably not. But it does here, for this one child.

By the way, if you're wondering how to make a mayonnaise sandwich the correct way, here it is: onto both slices of bread, painstakingly tease the last semi-congealed ounces of mayo out of the squeeze bottle (or, if you've already run out, a mayo packet for each side will do). CAREFUL: not too much! This is the first mistake you can make. But there definitely needs to be mayo on both sides. Then find some cheese in the fridge. Not the pre-sliced american cheese - that stuff is gross, and it would be far too easy, which would lead you to possible mistake #2. Nope, I'm going to need you to reach into the bottom shelf of the fridge and pull out three (3) individually wrapped 1" x 2" x 1/2" packets of tillamook medium cheddar. Now, you can't just lay those on the mayo, because the cheese is too thick. That would be mistake #3. No, you need to slice it in half, so it's only 1/4" thick. Quick, look around the kitchen for knives...oh wait, we don't have any here. Not in this facility full of self-harmers. So grab a pizza cutter from the utensil drawer and very carefully slice the cheese. Only then can you lay the cheese on the sandwich. Is that too much cheese? Of course it is! Because the third packet is just for you. It's your reward for sucessfully completing the mayonnaise sandwich. Now you'd better make another for later when our hungry friend gets upset after a bad phone call tonight...

Nothing in the previous paragraph was even the slightest bit exaggerated.

But I really do love my job. It's a good job, and while it isn't particularly fun to hang out with whiny, entitled, adolescents who are dependant on you for meeting their entire Maslow's pyramid of needs, this is where I should be. The kids don't often show a whole lot of positive change, which is frustrating, but at least I can act in hopes that they will. So much of this job depends of hoping. If you lose hope in some sort of transformative power, then there really is no reason for this facility to exist. More on why I love my job some other time.

I had a moment of realization the other day though. When I'm working with these kids, I get a closer glimpse of unconditional love than I have ever seen before. These kids give almost nothing back. No appreciation, little respect...just more demands. And I've discovered that what they need is unconditional love. Not that I can give it to them. When the demands and lack of appreciation mount up, I eventually give up. I act out of frustration. And I may still get them their 482nd cup of water, but I will not be loving them when I do it. But to know that it is possible to get them that cup of water, even after 481 others, and still love them...that means I have more to learn about love.

I could be loving them better! That's a hard thing to think at cup 482. This job is hard.

One of my brightest consolations of working at SubAcute is that these children are Jesus, perhaps even more so than the homeless people on the streets and the wandering strangers. And that makes getting that cup of water and making that mayo sandwich quite a bit easier.

Mandeville for Man of the Year

I don't have any other colleges to compare it to, but it seems to me that most Whitworth students really like their faculty. However, there are a few faculty members that for some reason inspire fanatic followings. These are the professors that you can't mention in a conversation without hearing someone tell you how much they love them, or how they've changed their lives. One of the reasons I know this so well is that I am one. Really, you can just call me a Marc Hafso fanboy. But the purpose of this post is to talk about someone who you wouldn't necessarily link with fanatic followings and huge class waitlists. Everyone likes Marc Hafso. And Dale Soden. And Rick Horner. And Bill Robinson. And the whole Theology department. They've done great things and have been amazing role models for students, but I want to talk about someone else - the associate dean of students.

You'll only really have reason to hang out with Dick Mandeville for two reasons; either you're an RA, or you are in some serious trouble. I never got to experience the latter first-hand, but the one time I wrote up some students as an RA I got a pretty good insight into his process. While I've never sat down to coffee with him, or shared a particularly personal conversation, he has made a huge impression on me.

I don't know this for a fact, but I'm pretty certain that he's the supreme law at Whitworth when it comes to student discipline. That can't be a fun job. In fact, this is just about the only position in higher education where the students will hate you for doing your job well. But here's a strange thing - they don't. I haven't had a lot of conversations about Dr. Mandeville, but I can't recall even one where a (rationally thinking) student who had gotten into trouble was angry at him. And here's why: the man has a great sense of justice. His punishments fit the crime. He has the ability to understand all facets of a wrongdoing, and then craft a punishment that restitutes and redeems. How amazing would it be to be known as a person with a great sense of justice?

Not only that, but he communicates well. Let's be honest, no matter how good a punishment is, the offending party will never appreciate it or understand it unless you can communicate the reasoning for it. The two boys that I wrote up came back to me after their punishment and told me they thought they had been treated very fairly. What college males say that after they've had their booze taken away? Can you imagine how much more effective we would be if we communicated that well?

One of the more creative Mandeville punishments? Cleaning every seat in this building.

Let's move on to the more positive side of Dr. Mandeville's work. When I was an RA, he was the point person for all the RA's on campus. That's a big job, and I didn't have a lot of issues so I didn't see him much, but I spent a week during training hanging on his every word. He's lived through a lot of life, and he told us a lot of stories. While I don't remember most of them, I do remember that they were amazing. He lives his life as a storyteller. I might even say it's his profession. From his stories I remember getting a better picture of what it means to be a man, what it means to love your wife, and what it means to care about the students. The fact that he communicates these amazing truths through storytelling is really something.

The man is wise. When people asked me advice about Whitworth I usually gave them one of two answers: Take Ron Pyle's Interpersonal Communication, and Listen to Every Word That Comes Out of Dick Mandeville's Mouth. He doesn't waste words, he just speaks truth.

I also love that he works small scale. He's not trying to shout his message to the entire Whitworth community, he's just sharing it with the people who care to listen. He doesn't max himself out with one-on-one meetings with students (this I infer from the fact that I rarely saw him eating meals with students - a fairly reliable predictor at Whitworth), but he'll talk to you if you track him down.

There's only so much you can say about a person you've had limited contact with, so I won't say much more. I already hope I'm not projecting attributes on to him that aren't really there. The man is amazing, but he's nowhere near perfect. He's just the kind of man I want to be.