Published annually, Pioneer Passages (formerly Pioneer Pages) is an electronic journal of student and faculty writing. Editors and technical staff have created a place to showcase student writing that has been identified throughout the year as outstanding class work or as exemplary writing students have accomplished on their own. College faculty are invited to take part in the journal as a forum for their thoughts, opinions, and musings on teaching and teaching-related topics.
In this issue
Untitled | Janis Sigourney
Untitled | Anonymous
Cell Phone Addiction | Jim Ford
House of Nightingale | Jai Sri Hari
Joyce Carol Oates | Tonya Brunick
Tarnished Silver | Kristeen Kish
The Grateful Dead | Matt Sampson
Why Do We Procrastinate? | Roxanne Stevens
Janis Sigourney
It was a sultry evening in late May and Cynthia quietly sat in the shade of the largest oak tree in the park. A few blocks away was the Broadway Concert Hall that Cynthia called home. Cynthia spent most evenings at the park this time of year, dangling her feet in the water, patiently waiting until she was alone so she could wash herself in the cool water of the pond. The ducks didn’t seem to mind; in fact, they had gotten used to the nightly visitor and appeared to like the company, especially when Cynthia brought stale bread from the trash bin in the alley behind the bakery. Now that the weather was warm, Cynthia had plenty of time to bathe, dress and get back home before the night guard at the concert hall came on duty.
At the age of eighteen, most girls are busy with school activities, homework, college applications, and planning for their first adventure away from their parents. They spend more time fussing in front of the mirror than they do studying, and they absolutely could not live without their laptops and cell phones. Cynthia, on the other hand, spent her days on a busy street corner selling bunches of flowers that had been discarded by the high-class florist on Sixth Street. She had an eye for color and her bouquets were really quite beautiful. On a good day, she would sell enough to buy a decent meal from one of the vendors in the park and save a few dollars for days that were not as lucrative.
Tonight, however, Cynthia impatiently waited for the other park visitors to leave and, as soon as the coast was clear, jumped into the pond to rinse off quickly and get home before the crowd started to arrive. Three weeks ago the brightly lit marquee in front of the concert hall had been changed to read:
June 1st 8:00 pm
South Central High School
Class of 2009
Commencement Ceremony
It seemed to Cynthia that today would never arrive and that months had passed since she first read that marquee. She had her evening all planned out, and it was finally here. As soon as she got home from her dip in the park pond, Cynthia brushed out her long, dark hair, slipped into the dress she had picked out from the thrift store especially for this occasion, and quickly and quietly made her way up to the box seats closest to the stage. The box seats were only occupied during operas, so tonight Cynthia would have the best seat in the house and still go unnoticed by the other guests. She could hardly wait to see all the graduating students in their caps and gowns, find out which students had been selected to speak during the ceremony, and hear the Mayor, who was the guest speaker for tonight’s festivities. She was so excited; she had butterflies in her stomach. If one didn’t know better, one would have thought that Cynthia herself was going to walk across that stage, be handed her diploma, and shake hands with the principal, vice-principal, and members of the school board that were there to congratulate the graduates-to-be. One would have thought.
The crowd became silent, the lights dimmed, except for the spots that flooded the stage, and the curtains were slowly opened to reveal the group of adults that were hosting this ceremony. Cynthia sat motionless on the edge of her front row box seat, hugging the velvet curtain so she could not be seen by the audience below. From her vantage point, Cynthia could also see the first few rows, filled with the graduating students. She couldn’t actually see the students, just row after row of shiny, black squares with a tassel dangling off the right side of each one. So perfectly still, it looked more like a geometric painting than a group of teenagers on the most exciting night of their lives. Cynthia Zuckerman found the last black square in the ninth row, with one empty seat to its right and thought, “That would have been my seat.” As tears rolled down her face, landing on her prettiest second-hand dress, her mind wandered to a place she seldom allowed it to go. If only Mom and Dad had not gone to the mountain skiing; if only they would have left ten minutes earlier, or ten minutes later; if only that drunk driver had not crossed the double-line or had taken a different route. If only.
When the principal, school board president, and the mayor finished their speeches, the vice-principal moved to center stage and began reading the names of the graduating seniors: Matthew Airey, Ryan Christensen, Nancy Davis; several names she recognized from her freshman and sophomore years at South Central. Cynthia was lost in her memories. How safe and secure she felt, snuggled in her bed listening to a bedtime story, or telling her dad to push her higher and higher as she soared on the swing in the park where she now bathes. And the wonderful smell of chocolate chip cookies she used to bake with her mother. Such a happy, carefree life she used to have. A life filled with hopes and dreams of her future. As soon as the last student’s name was read, “Charles Wright,” the concert hall was filled with clapping and cheering. Then all 647 graduates took their caps from their heads and flung them high into the air, several hitting the ceiling and one landing in the box at Cynthia’s feet. She picked up the cap, placed it on her head, and for a moment she too was a graduating senior of South Central High School’s Class of 2009. “Cynthia Zuckerman,” she shouted as she moved the tassel from the right side to the left. Unlike the other graduates, her cap remained on her head as she slipped out of the box, through the back halls and upstairs to her tiny loft home.
That night, as she lay on her tattered, old mattress, she felt a renewed sense of hope that she was starting a new chapter in her life and that this book she calls life just may have a happy ending after all.
Anonymous
The silent whisper of death surrounded me. I was shaken by the cool air blowing on my neck as I watched my little girl struggle for life. The darkness filled the sky as the moon’s bright light glistened beyond the horizon. I wept that very sorrow-filled hour, sitting bound to a chair by helplessness, wanting to run to her bedside and tell her that everything would be all right. I fixed my eyes beyond the nurses, doctors and chiming machines, upon my baby, just to catch a glimpse of her taking a breath. She was lying motionless, each breath more shallow than the last. I prayed to God that he would ease her pain and let my baby survive. As her life rested in the hands of the doctor, our hopes relied on what he was capable of doing for her. We waited patiently to see what the outcome would be.
I watched from a distance as the doctor attempted everything short of a miracle to help my baby girl. His hands suddenly stopped, his chin sank deep into his chest. With a frail sigh, he took his hands out of Abigail’s bed and away from her. My body went numb, not wanting to feel the pain I knew would follow. The doctor slowly pulled away from her bedside and looked up at me. As his eyes met mine, I could see tears welling up. I knew exactly what he was going to tell me without having to hear the words. I just knew.
“I’m sorry, there is nothing more that we can do for her. I’m very sorry,” the doctor said in a raspy voice.
Fighting back the tears that were bound to fall, I asked if I could hold her one last time. There was too much love in me to let her suffer any longer. As I held her close, my husband at my side, we softly whispered in her tiny ear that everything would be okay. We told her how much we loved her and wanted to keep her. We never wanted her to forget that God loved her first, but a mom and dad’s love is forever. Together my husband and I made the decision that we never thought in a million years we would have to make. We had all of the tubes removed and had life support stopped. We wanted to ease her pain and end her suffering. No more tubes, no more needles, machines or tests. Mom, Dad, and all the love in the world were what she needed at the moment. Our baby girl was baptized by the priest in the hospital right at her bedside. She was anointed with oil and blessed for all eternity. With an open mind and unselfish heart, we knew that God would take care of her just as he did before he gave her to us.
Sitting with my baby in my arms, I couldn’t do anything but gaze at her face. I never wanted to forget her little features. Her tiny and angelic cheeks surrounded her button nose. Her lips that would never say, “I love you.” Her pointy chin and pearlescent eyes stood out the most. Nothing was better than the precious smiles she made when we would go visit her. One smile from her had lit up my whole world.
As I continued to gaze at her, she moved her hand and closed her fist. A never-ending smile came upon her face. It was as if it took every bit of strength she had to make the slightest of gestures. I knew that it was her way of letting us know she was happy and that she was going to a better place.
With each passing hour came a knock at the door. As the nurse entered the room and quietly told me that she needed to check for a heartbeat, I held my breath, fearing at that very moment she would tell me my baby was dead.
After a sigh of relief, the nurse whispered to me, “She still has a heartbeat—faint, but still there.”
I drew Abigail even closer to me and kissed her on top of her head. I sat and cried, rocking her in silence. Not about to leave any option unturned, I began to bargain with God.
Three hours passed.
Sitting still, holding my baby close, I heard the gentle knock at the door and once again the nurse returned, as she had every hour before. Frozen in fear, I watched as she placed the cold metal stethoscope up to my baby’s warm chest.
The two words I had been dreading came from her, “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?” She stayed by me for a long moment of silence and touched my shoulder gently and lovingly.
I could not think of anything other than to have my baby back.
From the moment God sent Abigail to us, we had never been happier. The day we were blessed with twins all the happiness in the world filled our hearts. But, we were soon left to pick up the pieces. Abigail taught us to recognize the priorities in our lives. Her presence gave us a greater understanding of family and how we all need each other; she brought a deeper meaning to the lives of those who knew her. Abigail left us better than she had found us, and we were all grateful for the lessons we learned. We learned how to live richer, fuller lives simply by reaching out to those around us. We were blessed for having known her.
Jim Ford
Jim Ford is the Criminal Justice Program Director for Pioneer Pacific College’s Portland Metro Area. He has been with the College since 2004, after retiring from 34-plus years of law enforcement with the Salem Police Department and the Marion County District Attorney’s Office. Currently, he is working toward his doctorate in Criminal Justice and has just begun his dissertation phase.
INTRODUCTION
Stand quietly in the back of any classroom on campus and watch. It will very soon become obvious that a considerable number of students are quietly sending text messages to their friends or family rather than paying attention to the lecture. It becomes blatantly obvious to an instructor who is conducting a lecture or discussion that students are texting away in the front row, ignoring the instructor and the lesson.
Frankly, as an instructor, I find this somewhat rude. No, make that awfully rude! Let me give you an example. It was the first day of class in one of my criminal justice first or second term classes when I was calmly explaining the class rules to the students, many of whom were new to the school. I was just beginning to explain that cell phones were to be turned off in class, when a student’s phone rang (I guess you call it ringing, although some of the rings I have heard would shock a back alley rap singer), and the student simply got up and left class to take the call. Needless to say, my blood pressure was at the maximum. I had just begun to start again, when guess what? Okay, I have to admit this time it was my phone. I had forgotten to turn it off. While the presentation didn’t quite work as I had hoped, I still conveyed my point.
Cell phones are becoming a serious problem. They distract the users, as well as others. In fact, over the last few years I have become convinced that we as a society are addicted to them. I would further argue that the most serious addiction falls on those in the high school to graduate school age group, roughly 13 to 25 years of age. Perhaps this is due to the ease with which technology such as cell phones can be obtained, leading so many of us to become dependent upon them.
I recall standing inside the front door to the school on one occasion, when a student walked in, happily chatting away on her cell phone. Being somewhat intrigued by her apparent ability to continue her activities while chatting away, I asked her what she did before there were cell phones.
She replied, with a quizzical look, “But there have ALWAYS been cell phones!”
“Always,” obviously, is a relative term. I certainly remember when there were no cell phones. Of course, I must admit to remembering when there were no televisions either (which was not an entirely bad thing).
ADDICTION
I am convinced that cell phones are addicting, and that a great number of young people (and some not so young) are addicted to them. Look at the definition of "addiction," according to the American Psychiatric Association (who are the folks responsible for developing the criteria for diagnosing mental disorders). The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (4th edition—Text Revision) indicates one is addicted (the preferred term is now dependent) essentially if one exhibits the following behaviors:
· Doesn’t fulfill important responsibilities (texting rather than taking notes during lectures)
· Uses under hazardous or risky conditions (texting/talking while driving)
· Finds themselves with recurring legal issues (equate this to getting into trouble in class for using the phone when told not to)
· Finds themselves in recurring interpersonal or social problems (fighting with boyfriend or girlfriend by text in class).
To confirm if you are addicted to or dependent upon cell phones, there are specific indicators of addiction/dependence. According to the DSM-IV-TR, a person is addicted if he or she exhibits three or more of the following:
· Tolerance (accustomed to more than normal phone use)
· Withdrawal (becomes fidgety, nervous, has lowered attention span, craves the use of the phone)
· Large amount of usage over an extended period
· Fails at efforts to cut down use
· Time spent in using the phone replaces social, occupational, and/or recreational activities (such as paying attention in class)
· Continued use despite adverse consequences (such as lowered grades, instructor ire, etc.).
For a somewhat simpler definition, we can rely on a dictionary. Merriam-Webster Online defines “addiction” as a quality or state. It goes further to indicate it is a compulsive type of need for and use of a habit-forming substance. Characteristics that mark an addiction according to this entry are tolerance and physiological symptoms when the substance has been withdrawn. The broad definition is that addiction is a “persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful” (Merriam Webster Online).
One can argue the harmfulness of cell phone use; however, there are studies indicating the overuse of such devices can result in brain cancer. This is yet a scientifically unconfirmed claim, but studies are underway to verify it. Arguing the harmful aspect of cell phone usage when driving is another matter. It is dangerous. It’s caused accidents, and it’s likely to be outlawed in all states soon.
CONCLUSION
In summary, I offer a challenge. Turn your phone off and go without it for a week. This will tell you if you are addicted. If you find yourself feeling like you have just consumed five cups of espresso or one of the pure caffeine drinks, are unable to sit down, are climbing the walls, or are performing “air-texting” or other nervous activity, you are addicted.
So here is the final word for our students who may be reading this. Turn off the cell phones in class. It will accomplish two things. One, it will allow you to better understand the lesson, and it will also allow your instructor’s blood pressure to resume normal levels.
WORKS CITED
American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th Edition, Text Revision. American Psychiatric Association. 2000. Print.
Merriam-Webster Online. Web. September 9, 2009.
Jai Sri Hari
From Jai Sri Hari’s former Program Director, Rhoda Collier: Jai was an outstanding nursing student while at Pioneer Pacific. Patients were fond of him, as were his peers. He was a leader, and his classmates looked to follow him.
Throughout my preceptorship experience I evaluated and examined the philosophy of Florence Nightingale’s essential seven elements, knowing that upon completion of my nursing program I would need to evaluate and discuss my findings. In an attempt to gain a true understanding of the elements, I formed a plan from the very beginning to take a new element each week and focus on its intentions. At the end of the day, before going to bed, I sat and meditated upon the day and made notes of my realizations of that element’s purpose. Although I understand that nursing is essentially a science of facts and disciplines, I also believe that nursing requires a significant amount of insight into one’s own intuition, instincts and personal feelings. Therefore, I believe it would be tedious of me to write a paper on the most obvious factors of the House of Nightingale (HON) elements and, instead, have chosen to identify certain key points which may have eluded many readers and practitioners.
Nurse Nightingale and the HON focus on seven essential nursing elements which, used properly, give the practicing nurse a set of tools to use in his or her evaluation of a patient’s well-being. I believe that these elements are much like the elements we find in nature and perhaps they are born of those elements and possibly have more connection to them than we realize. However, the most important aspect of the HON elements is their systemic effect on the human body. Each of the elements found in the HON affects the entire body on all levels, therefore making the HON elements the model for the most thorough examination of the human condition.
AIR
As humans we see air as oxygen, but in reality air is space in movement. It is no more oxygen than it is hydrogen, or carbon, or water. Nurse Nightingale uses air as an element related to the atmosphere of the patient. She describes air as stagnant and unhealthy, or fresh as flowing through an open window. She reminds us that the quality of air has as much to do with a patient’s well being and in her wisdom identified the source of that air to describe that quality and categorize it as either good or bad, helpful or harmful.
I have come to realize that air is more than an element which is inhaled and creates a response by the body. Have we forgotten that air is the invisible atmosphere of our environment? Does air not lie against our skin, the largest body organ? Does air not carry an unseen host of stimulants which absorbs through the skin? Air carries with it a smell, although that smell may be infinitesimal. Nonetheless, it produces a response in the body and mind. It can influence our mood, our interpretation of our surroundings, and from a medical standpoint, it is systemic in its effect on the body.
Air is my first instinct when I enter a patient’s room. Within seconds I can evaluate the environment and determine temperature. Is the patient shivering under the covers or half naked and sweating? I can smell what the patient smells, I can feel the humidity in the air, and I can distinguish between body odor and chemical cleaners. From my point of view, air is the essential element one should first rely upon to determine the SPACE of the individual.
Once I have a baseline for the environment, I then focus on the air within the body. At a glance I can see a patient’s respiration, skin color, eye color and can evaluate the breathing of the patient. Just as we learned the ABCs of initial patient assessment, air both within the body and outside is my first priority. I have used the element of air to help strike up many conversations with my patients. I may start by asking them how they feel, if they are cold or hot, if they would like me to open a window or adjust the thermostat. I believe that air directly affects the metabolism, the senses and sensations, and is an unseen force which can be manipulated to benefit everyone in one way or another.
I have worked with several patients who were upset or in pain by walking them through a simple guided meditation I developed. I sat with the patient and we both closed our eyes and I had them draw their entire attention to the air in the room. They focused on the sensation of the air on their skin, their hair, the feeling in their nostrils all the way down to their diaphragm. Air can also be used to draw the attention away from the pains and anxieties of the world around us and help us focus our attention elsewhere.
Everyone of my patients who has practiced this meditation with me has given me wonderful feedback and thanks for showing them this tool. I believe it is an amazing way to educate patients about their own health, how they are feeling and the ways in which than can adjust their environment and their interpretation of their environment to produce a positive effect on their health and well being on a physical, spiritual and emotional level.
WATER AND FOOD
I categorize food and water into one group because each contain one another to some degree. Water contains either some form of nutrients or none at all and food carries with it some amount of water as well. I believe it is essential that a nurse evaluate the food and water in the patient’s room. I found myself in each instance looking at the patient’s bedside table and determining what they had eaten, what beverage was in the cup and how much he or she had finished. The type of food/water and the amount can tell a nurse a lot about a patient. It can tell us how they feel. If a patient is going without food and water, we must ask ourselves why. Is the patient voiding regularly? Is the catheter functioning properly? Is the patient in pain either emotionally or physically? Are they eating out of boredom or emotional need? Are they losing weight? Is their skin hydrated well?
I began a project with several of my patients during my week of food and water evaluation. I asked patients to do an experiment with me so that each morning as soon as they woke up, they drank three glasses of water (24 ounces). Then, in the afternoon we sat and discussed how it made them feel. The three patients who followed my advice all reported that they experienced an incredible improvement in how they felt later on in the day. All three reported that they had more energy, awoke much faster, had a better appetite at lunch and their bowel movements were much easier. I had read an article that said 24 ounces of water taken in within the first five minutes of waking up had a significant effect on the body’s metabolism and that over time regulated the body functions, and improved appetite, respirations, heart rate and elimination. Although my experiment was minor in comparison to the article I read, it certainly gave me a new tool to pass along to my patients in the hopes that some improvement could be made by such an easy daily practice.
REST
Rest is more than getting enough sleep. Without thinking, we rest, and our muscles are able to relax; pressure is released from areas of the body. I like to think of rest as much more than what we are not doing but more of where we are, how our body is aligned, where we are resting, what we are resting from. Are we resting in a chair, are we resting with a pillow between our knees? I’ve seen patients who may appear to be resting but are actually in a great deal of discomfort because of the rest they are receiving. As all things in nature have a dual temperament, rest can actually be causing problems as opposed to lessening them.
In order for the body to rest it must first be in a state of exercise. If the body muscles, circulatory system, and respiratory system are not first activated and worked, then rest has no value and we are simply resting from rest. I’ve found that many people are not aware of this duality. Many patients say to me, “I’m so tired today,” and my question to them is always, “What have you done today that you need rest from?” Many times they respond by telling me they have not done anything in particular but that they are either in pain, depressed or just plain bored. Is this to say that pain, stress, and emotions require rest and if so, what rest other than sleep can replenish that needed vital force? I believe rest must be viewed as a respite of the analytical conscious mind.
Through the use of meditation, exercise, conversation, and music, rest can be obtained in a new form that the patient responds to. Because of this realization, I have begun to educate my patients about alternative forms of rest that are more beneficial than sleep. I’ve taught several patients about meditation and relaxation, especially involving music. Through guided meditation I have the patient focus on each part of their body, starting from the top of the heads and scanning down to the tips of their toes. They give me their feedback by identifying areas of their body that are either in pain, cannot find a comfortable position or feel awkward. Once we have identified the areas that need work, we change our focus to aligning those body parts, using pillows to adjust their station and then continue our mind and body relaxation. This allows the patients to self-identify and self-adjust instead of simply trying to ignore the pain or overlook the importance of body position.
It is also important in healthcare to be aware of those patients who are immobile. We must be diligent as nurses to communicate with our CNAs and find out how long a patient has been lying in a position and educate them about the importance of turning a patient, repositioning them, changing the location of pillows, rolled blankets, etc. It all directly relates to skin breakdown, muscle fatigue, preventing contractures, adjusting for comfort and pain. If we are able to look at rest as more than sleep, then we can effectively change the condition in which our patients find themselves day after day.
SAFETY
Throughout my preceptor experience I learned that it is important to be attentive to and diligent about safety. Modern care facilities have several safety programs in place. Although they seem to operate independently, I find that it’s important for the care team to never rely solely on these systems. One of the most used is the tab and pressure alarm systems designed to alert the care team when a patient attempts to get out of a wheelchair or bed without assistance. This safety system only operates assuming the patient has no understanding of its presence. However, I’ve found numerous patients who, despite their dementia, are clever enough to disengage it, rendering the system useless.
During my first week at Laurelhurst I witnessed two patients who fell because they disengaged their alarms. One patient, in particular, re-shattered her hip. I made it my duty from then on to regularly check each patient’s alarm each time I passed by their room. It only took a few seconds to see that they were in place and operating.
My other concern was with the call light system which served no purpose if the signal was not in reach. We must show the patient where the call light is, repeatedly. I believe the key to maintaining safety in the long term care setting is patience. I see too often that the care team neglects this important practice. Perhaps we get tired of explaining the same thing to a patient over and over, or we think our words are useless because the patient won’t remember. However, I’ve found that one solution is to ask the patient’s roommate to help us out. Often a dementia patient is placed in a room with a fully cognitive patient. In that event, I would ask the cognitive patient to alert us when they see their roommate disengage their alarm, or to simply try and talk her or him out of leaving the bed or stalling them while summoning us with their call light. I believe that repeated attempts to educate a patient about their safety are not futile, as so many of us believe.
One reason for accidents is neglect. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen call lights go unanswered for over ten minutes or tab alarms go off for several minutes and nobody comes to the patient’s aid. I’ve even seen licensed nurses totally ignore both call lights and alarms, knowing full well that all the CNAs were in another patient’s room and could not help. The nurses would just stand there as if to say, “This isn’t my job.” What does this level of neglect say to our patients, especially those who have dementia? Ten minutes to a dementia patient seems like an hour, so, of course, they are going to think that they have been forgotten and attempt to get up on their own or go to the bathroom without assistance and, of course, they may fall. I believe that as nurses we are not above the work of a CNA and to act as such is deplorable. It destroys our honorable reputation and damages our care team. As nurses we have the power and responsibility to set an example to our coworkers and if our fellow employees see us neglecting our patients, surely they will follow in our footsteps.
HYGIENE
I’ve noticed an interesting pattern of hygiene neglect among people living in care facilities. This brings up an important need for a shower schedule; it’s not just enough to give a person a shower but it needs to be consistent, given on the same day and shift each week. I think it’s also important for the care team to give more attention to a person’s hygiene on other days too. If it’s a slow day then why not offer a patient an extra shower, especially if they are obese or are having skin breakdown issues? I’ve found that if it’s not that patient’s shower day even the mention of giving them a shower becomes laughable.
During my time at Laurelhurst, I took the opportunity on each shift to inspect the skin from head to toe for each patient getting a shower on my shift. All I had to do was ask the CNAs at the beginning of shift to be sure and find me when they were getting ready to start their patient’s shower.
I’ve also noticed a trend of poor oral hygiene. We have treatment orders for several of our patients to have their teeth cleaned before bed. Almost always this involves the use of a toothette. I’ve seen nurses spend about five seconds cleaning the patient’s teeth. What value does this treatment have if it’s not done properly? I tried to correct this as much as possible during my shifts. I spent a good amount of time cleaning the patient’s teeth, making sure to reach the gums and the tongue. Then I finished off the oral care with several sips of water and asked the patient to swish it around in their mouth and swallow. For those patients of mine who had to be hand fed food, I always gave the juice and sugared drinks early in the meal and finished off the meal with as much water as they would tolerate. This will extend the life of their teeth and prevent tooth decay. It is important to also share this information with our other CNAs and care team members so that a pattern of consistency can be established which will help make the transition easier for the patient.
This, of course, addresses only the hygiene of the body, but what about the patient’s surroundings? Do the objects in the patient’s room ever get cleaned? During my time at the VA hospital I finished off the day by disinfecting every single surface in the exam room. I believe this is something that is truly lacking in the long term care facilities and something I look forward to changing once I am a nurse.
PAIN
I am very interested in the element of pain because the nature of pain is subjective, elusive and in my personal opinion for the most part ignored especially in regards to patients with chronic idiopathic pain. I have personally sought to ask each of my patients about their pain at each of my encounters with them and notify the CMA if intervention is needed. I believe that a pain-free quality of life is essential, but I also feel that more alternative therapies should be introduced to those suffering from chronic pain. In the absence of these therapies, I fully support the management of pain with scheduled pain relievers. However, I believe more intervention is needed in understanding pain for those suffering idiopathic pain and advocate that the patient see a pain psychologist as well.
In my work with Our House of Portland and the Quest Center we had several patients who not only had access to naturopathic doctors but acupuncturists and several other therapies including massage and pool therapy. There are a number of non-profit organizations available to patients suffering from chronic pain and I plan to advocate for those patients when given the opportunity. One of the areas I found bothersome was one particular CMA I worked with at Laurelhurst who would sit and read while patients sat in pain in their rooms.
On several occasions I reported to her that a patient had requested pain medication and her response to me was, “She can have her scheduled pain medication in an hour. I’m not giving her a PRN now.”
When I asked her why she felt the patient could wait an hour to receive pain relief, she said, “She has dementia and won’t know how long it’s been since she asked for it.”
Perhaps I’m naïve, but it seems to me a poor excuse. For the last year that I’ve worked for the Swan House I’ve administered pain medication to several patients with intractable pain, and I have seen the difference an hour can make in their lives. I believe, regardless of a patient’s state of dementia, that pain is pain and should be addressed as soon as possible. I explained to this CMA that not only did the patient have to lie in bed in pain for over an hour but that the scheduled medication would take another 30 minutes to an hour to take full effect and that her procrastination was dooming a poor woman to nearly two hours of pain. She gave me a dirty look, put her book down, and administered the patient some Tylenol. I think that the most obvious people to educate about pain are those whose job it is to help relieve that pain. I believe that caregivers and CMAs become cynical and desensitized to hearing about a patient’s pain and I plan to advocate for each of my patients in regards to pain management. I believe an open dialogue about the importance of pain relief, non-judgment, and further in-service education is needed in this area.
SPACE
My eighth element of space is one I have relied upon during the past ten weeks. It has become an invaluable tool. Essentially my eighth element gives me the permission to go on instinct rather than try and rationally analyze every detail. For example, while at Laurelhurst Village I took the time to simply stand in the patient’s room, quiet and reflective. Slowly, I gazed around the room and, using my space-scope rather than my analytical mind, I tried to “feel out” the environment. I observed how my mind and body reacted to the surroundings.
In one particular room where two patients were living together I had such a miserable experience. The atmosphere was bitter, dark and simply depressing. I observed that both the patients simply rested in bed staring at the ceiling. The room was somewhat barren with no personal effects; dead silence hung in the air. So I got one of the patients out of bed, helped her into her wheelchair and asked her to please do a couple of laps down the hall. While she was gone I opened the windows and went to turn on the TV, only to find it was broken. I sat at the bed of her roommate and asked her what was going on.
She looked at me, pointed out the hall where her roommate had just been and said, “I can’t stand her, she steals all my stuff. I never want to leave my room because that’s when she steals things.”
Two days later the social worker got involved and found a new living situation for the woman, and I put in a maintenance request to have the television fixed. The point of this story is that even without knowing the intricate details of this situation I could feel something wasn’t right. I could feel the sadness and the powerlessness in the air. I trusted my instincts and was able to identify the problems.
During my work at Our House and Swan House I used this same instinct with my patients. If there was something that was bothering them, I had them use their instincts to scan the environment and try to identify an area that could be adjusted. Often times, simply moving furniture around, opening some windows or putting on some music had the most profound effect. I recently started an experiment at the Swan House because I was there for 27 hours at a time. I had noticed a pattern of boredom that was becoming unsettling to me. It would be a beautiful day and everyone would simply stay in their rooms all day watching TV and sleeping.
Normally the caregivers were very quiet there and tried not to disturb the residents, but I did the opposite. Every morning around 9 o’clock I came downstairs, set fresh pastries out on the table, made a pot of coffee, turned on some dance music, opened all the windows and doors, pulled back the blinds, and brought life into that house. I spent the entire morning and afternoon baking fresh cakes, breads and slow cooking for dinner.
Do you know what I found? Everyone started coming out of his or her rooms, even just for a few minutes to sit outside on the porch, to get a cup of coffee, look around, and go back to their room. They began talking to one another, or they got on the computer in the craft room or sat and read the newspaper in the living room for a few minutes. Many of them sat at the kitchen bar as I cooked and had long conversations with me. I saw they were just desperate for some stimulation and I kept the jokes rolling. It was amazing to see that I had brought life and vitality into a house by such simple gestures. Again, here was another example of my instincts telling me that there was an absence of vitality, a dark cloud hanging over everyone and that something must be done.
At the end of each of my shifts I blogged about this approach in our daily communications and encouraged other caregivers to do the same on their shifts. I came to realize that sometimes in care settings, especially long term care, the OT and PT staff try and force upon the residents all these games and crafts to help occupy their time. But I think they must first prepare the environment for their needs and must first connect with the patients before they can expect them to surrender their safe rooms for a day of activities.
Most of my entire eighth element has taught me that not only does the environment play a role in a person’s health and well-being, but that everything starts with me, I, the individual. I am the gardener, the artist, the one filled with life and vitality and health, and I must connect with each patient in order for there to be an exchange of that essence. If I am to expect any change with my patients, I must be the change I wish to see. I must first offer the glow of my own individuality, my own compassion and, furthermore, not be afraid to show that I do truly care. My actions, whether they appear random, intended or unplanned, are words in movement and change in full motion.
CONCLUSION
The House of Nightingale is an excellent model for standards of nursing and, like my eighth element, provides flexible systems that can bend and change to reflect the needs at the moment. The elements each play a role in the body, mind and environment and when we keep these things in mind, nursing flows much more smoothly. Perhaps each element need not be addressed all at the same time for every situation. However, one simple element may easily set the framework for the discussion or situation at hand. It is an invaluable tool for evaluating a person’s state of health and health needs. When the opportunity for communicating with our care team, peers, and family occurs we can refer back to our basic elements in the HON and use them as the foundation for our concerns.
I believe that everyone can relate to the seven elements because they are the basics of life; if we can sympathize with ourselves, we can sympathize with others. The HON elements can be randomly utilized as well. When a question arises and we cannot find the answer, all we need to do is spin the wheel of elements, take one simple element, and examine its teachings with our patient or situation. I can ask if the patient’s basic seven needs are met and then if no answers are found, I can use my eighth element: close my eyes and divine the problem out. If we continue to keep the elements in their standard order as we learn to use them, they become an invaluable tool for documentation, care planning, and communication with the family. So that no area is overlooked, we can systematically go through our seven elements and finally our eighth, and identify each area of a patient’s health and environment. If we find ourselves at the end of our day feeling as if we have forgotten something, all we have to do is revisit the seven elements in our mind and walk ourselves through again. No system is perfect nor is any one person flawless, but utilizing the HON in our daily practice will surely be nothing but beneficial for our nursing career.
Tonya Brunick
Tonya Brunick is a high school drop-out who recently completed her B.S. degree with honors in Criminal Justice. Her goals are to go on to graduate school and to work with juveniles. She wants to make a difference by reaching out to youth who need help.
Most stories follow the same outline; first the exposition, then the conflict that leads to the climax, and finally, the resolution. However, every author makes a story unique by combining his or her own style with different literary elements. One of the ways that authors differentiate their stories is by the use of symbols. A lot of authors like to use literal straight-to-the-point objects, while others enjoy using symbols that are open to interpretation. Joyce Carol Oates is one of those authors. She makes readers think and come to their own conclusions about what she is writing.
Joyce Carol Oates is an author who makes a reader think. Her stories make people think of life, and with all of life, comes death. Oates does not portray life and death in the same way in all of her stories. In some stories, such as “Life After High School”, there is death in the literal sense. In other stories, like “June Birthing,” both life and death are symbolized in other ways. Another common thread in Oates’ stories is how some characters experience the feeling of being lost in what can be a very difficult world. This is more defined and obvious throughout the stories than is the symbolism of life and death. Of course, it depends on the reader for the interpretation of the story. While some can see similarities in Oates’ stories, others can read them differently. Oates, herself, states that “the world has meanings, many individual and alarming and graspable meanings, and the adventure of being human consists in seeking out these meanings” (437). Here in Oates’ own words, she agrees that it is each person’s responsibility to read and interpret the meanings of her stories in his or her own way.
After reading “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?”, “Life After High School,” and “June Birthing,” I found life and death to be a commonality in all stories; I also discovered that the characters were lost. Life and death are not always portrayed in the literal sense, but rather as symbols for different parts of a person’s life, the different levels of life a person experiences. Each new adventure and change in life means that the old way of life dies. In each of the stories, I also found the sense of being lost, of characters searching for a meaningful identity. In each story, the characters are trying to find themselves. Oates shows this by explaining different lifestyles of the characters in each story.
In ”Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?”, Connie, the main character, can be viewed as a typical teenager who acts differently around her family than she does around her friends. She undermines her mother. She thinks that her older sister is not pretty enough, and this is the reason she is single and still living at home at her age. Connie is never happy being at home. Outside of home, away from her family, she is a teenager who is just starting to discover her sexuality and an eye for the boys. Her friends aren’t too important to her, other than being an excuse to go out and meet boys. She lies to her parents about where she is and who she is with. Instead of going to the movies with her friends, she changes her clothes and goes across the highway to the local drive-in restaurant known to be a local teenage hangout. There, she meets different boys, and they go off to experiment with the sexual feelings she is having. Connie is not having sex, but she is certainly doing other things with the boys she goes off with. She is naïve, as an older boy begins to stalk her. She is a typical teenager who believes that nothing bad will happen to her, that her life is untouchable.
Connie’s actions could also be explained by interpreting them as a search for herself. At this point in her life, she sees her future as one she does not want. She feels that either she will end up like her mother, once a beautiful young woman who is now a housewife with what Connie sees as no outer beauty. There is also the possibility that Connie will end up like her sister, single and in her later years, still living at home with Mom and Dad. Connie feels lost, and saddened by the only two choices she sees for her future. She tries to find herself, find a way at such young years, to not become what she believes is inevitable. She may feel that because of her beauty, she has power over boys, and, therefore, may not end up like her mother or her sister.
In the end, Connie discovers that her future is much different than ever imagined. She is greeted at her home by the stalker, Arnold Friend, who convinces her to go off with him by threatening her. This is where her life of being a naïve teenage girl, who despises her family, dies. A new life for Connie is born, a life in which she finds she actually does care for her family, and a life of knowing that she is not invincible, along with the realization that the possibilities of her future may not have been so bad after all. She will never be able to know what her life could have been like. She will never have the chance to find her true self. In the story, a reader can conclude that she will not be coming back home when she leaves with Arnold Friend. She will be sexually assaulted and murdered.
In Smooth Talk, which is a film based on this short story, Connie does come home. The movie portrays Connie’s life as having changed after the incident of being sexually assaulted by her stalker. The audience sees that her life as a typical teenager is now dead and that a new life of appreciation for what she has is born.
All critics view a story differently. From one critic’s perspective, Elaine Showalter views the story as being one of a typical female adolescent who discovers the sexual vulnerability a woman of any age could possibly experience. Showalter views Connie’s misery at home as the result of what Connie sees as her inevitable future. She will either end up like her sister, single and still living at home, or a dull housewife with nothing to call her own. Showalter also points out Connie’s past and future, which relates to the life and death view: “[T]he place where she has been and where she is going…[h]er abduction from this claustrophobic world at the hands of Arnold Friend is both terrifying and liberatory” (479). This can be viewed in the perspective that Connie is trying to find her own true self, is searching for who she really is. She is looking for the alternatives to a future she doesn’t care for. The abduction is terrifying for Connie because her life as she has known it to be has ceased, but liberating because the life she feared would come with age is no longer an option either. The abduction ends Connie’s search to find herself, to no longer feel lost, as she finds who she really is. Connie finds that she is just a young teenage girl ignorant of the world’s realities.
“Life After High School” is a story with excellent examples of how a person’s life isn’t always how it seems to be. In this story, Oates shows that a person’s view of their own life and the meaning they give to incidents aren’t always correct. Sunny, the popular girl in high school, feels that she contributed to Zachary’s suicide when she turned him down after he proposed. He came to her home shortly before suffocating himself with exhaust fumes from his car. Because of the incident and the extreme guilt she had from feeling she was the cause of his suicide, she becomes a different person after high school. She is still successful in her career and in her personal life, as most people thought she would be, but is no longer the happy and faithful Christian she was throughout high school. The life and personality she carried when she was in high school dies the day Sunny finds out about Zachary’s suicide. This event leads to the birth of her new life and new personality.
Zachary has one friend, Tobias; they are each other’s only friend. Tobias is also visited by Zachary on the evening of the suicide, just after the visit to Sunny. Later, in Sunny’s adult life, she learns of the visit, as well as a letter written by Zachary, when meeting with Tobias. After high school, Tobias goes on to become a well-known playwright and director. He is also an openly gay man. During the meeting, Tobias gives Sunny the letter, and upon reading it, learns that Zachary wasn’t really in love with Sunny, but was instead in love with Tobias. Zachary had made a life for himself that was a fake reality. He had lived his life trying to convince others and most likely himself as well, that he wasn’t gay, that he was in fact in love with the most popular girl in school. Only Tobias knew the truth, and like Sunny, lived with guilt after Zachary’s suicide. He also had felt guilt, because during that visit Zachary had made to him, Tobias had turned him away rather than being the friend that Zachary most likely needed. Tobias was fearful that his secret of being gay would come out to the public, and homosexuality was very much shunned in those days. The Tobias of secrets and lies dies after high school, and like with Sunny, a new life is born. Tobias begins a new life of coming out and publicly admitting his sexual orientation and expressing this through his plays.
Oates shows the sense of feeling lost through Zachary. He is confused by his feelings, feelings that he saw as being wrong; according to society, and how he grew up, he believes he should be attracted to women. Because of how he thinks he should be, Zachary loses himself more by trying to love a girl who he is not able to love. Though he may be in awe of Sunny, he does not love her. What he does love about her is her personality, and that she is accepted by everyone. Both are something Zachary wants but doesn’t have. The desire of being accepted as the person he actually is makes Zachary feel more lost because he feels it is not a realistic possibility. Zachary does not feel he will ever be able to find himself, because his true self would not be accepted. To free himself of the constant feelings he has, to free himself of being lost, Zachary commits suicide.
Oates shows through these three characters that there is always life and death to all. Some may begin a new form, or new chapter of life, while others may not know how to make the life transition and just leave with the end of one life and no beginning to another. Oates also shows that by ending one’s life, one can also end the feeling of being lost. Possibly by ending one’s life, that person may feel he or she is able to actually be free and find meaning in death.
Critic Greg Johnson’s response to “Life After High School” interprets that the events during high school help shape the lives of who people become afterward. He notes how the unknown events that happen can change a person forever. Johnson states that “[s]haken by Zachary’s death, she has reclaimed her original name, Barbara, and shed her ‘sunny’ version of Christianity. Rather, she excelled in graduate school and is now a renowned university lecturer and author; apparently she has also succeeded in her personal life as a wife and mother of three children” (482). Here is where Johnson expresses the idea that aspects of a person’s life could die and others blossom. Tobias also goes on to do great things, becoming well known not only for his work, but for being openly gay. It is possible that throughout high school, Tobias felt just as lost as Zachary because of his unaccepted feelings towards men. Possibly, Tobias was able to find his true self, and let that true self show, because of Zachary’s suicide. Tobias knows that Zachary’s death was in part due to feelings that overwhelmed him. In this view, the story shows that it is possible to find oneself through experiences of another person.
Oates’ story, “June Birthing,” provides a much different view of life and death; this story shows life and death in a much different way than her other stories. The feeling of being lost, however, is just as apparent in this story as it is in other stories by Oates.
In this story, Kathe is a newly single woman, just having gone through a divorce. She has known herself as being a wife, and now single, isn’t quite sure who she is. She is driving home, thinking about her newly acquired life, possibly toying with the question of if she is still the same person, when she sees an animal on the side of the road by itself with no mother around. Pulling over, she sees a very newly born fawn. For some reason, Kathe feels an intense impulse to do everything she can to save the life of this newborn animal, even when the area she found it in is overcrowded with deer as it is.
While she is contemplating her next action, another car pulls up to hers. Lyle, who Kathe first thinks is repugnant, becomes sympathetic as well. Lyle is also lost. He has been alone for so long that he doesn’t realize he still has the compassion to feel as he does upon meeting Kathe and the fawn. They start a new adventure in their lives together, driving to the nearest vet to try to save the fawn. Kathe and Lyle are turned away by the vet due to the overpopulation of deer, so they have no choice but to bring the fawn back to the spot they found it and to hope the mother will come back to save it. While waiting to see what will happen, if the mother will come back, Kathe and Lyle go to a nearby bar to wait. The two learn of each other’s lives that are no more: Kathe’s life of being married which is now gone, as well as Lyle’s life of once being a family man with a wife and kids. Though the story never mentions what events led to the end of their past lives, the reader can envision a new life forming between the two.
The characters find themselves through each other. It is not known how long this new life will last, if it will go beyond the events with the fawn, but the reader certainly becomes aware of the new life forming for both of them. It is a new sense of awareness for the characters, an awareness of who they are. The title of the story, “June Birthing,” symbolizes a new form of life for these characters. What we can envision while reading the story is the birth of the new life. This could be accomplished by their being together, or just through the shared experience by which they can both reflect on and see it as the start of a new chapter in their lives.
Greg Johnson also critiques “June Birthing.” His view of the story is different than mine. Johnson believes that “the fawn has brought out Kathe’s maternal instinct, and as a bluff, hyper-masculine male, the vulnerability of both Kathe and the fawn has brought out an innate protectiveness in Lyle” (484). I do agree that the fawn brings out feelings of some sort between the two characters in the story. I don’t, however, believe that the fawn brings out a maternal or paternal instinct in the two. The fawn brings out a realization that both characters, whatever may have happened previously in their lives, are still capable of caring, caring for life in general. The feelings they experience are realizations that they have found a part of themselves they thought was lost. The love of life itself and the appreciation they find in their lives through each other is one of the most important points of the story.
These three short stories by Oates vary dramatically in setting, place, and style, yet Oates makes sure to leave the interpretation of each story up to the reader. She writes in such a way to leave the reader pondering and looking for meaning. Whether the reader finds views of life and death in each story, or if they believe in the need for the characters to find themselves through stories of love, or the needing of love, or nurture, or whatever else, it is up to the reader to find it.
WORKS CITED
Arp, Thomas R. and Greg Johnson, eds. Story and Structure: An Introduction to Fiction. Boston: Wadsworth Cengage Learning, 2009. Print.
Kristeen Kish
Kristeen Kish is a 41-year-old mother of three who currently attends Pioneer Pacific College in the Massage Therapy Program. She has written poems since she was 12 years old and has had some of them published in the local publication Open Ways.
You once said that I was gold.
“Tarnished silver” was my reply,
but precious nonetheless.
You once told me you believed in me,
you made me believe in myself,
then something drastic changed
and I let myself get consumed
in an endless cavern of emotion
where no light was within sight.
I stayed there far too long,
crying in despair in the darkness,
so cold and alone in that place
suddenly feeling less than precious
no longer believing in myself
no longer believing in your words, yet I remembered who I was--
wanderer, adventurer, warrior.
This cavern was not my world,
just another place for me to explore
in my journey back to myself
and I walked out of the cave
and into the bright light,
I learned that my shadows
only exist because I am light,
I may not be gold but am still precious.
Not broken, I am whole,
with tarnish but I shine.
Matt Sampson
Matt Sampson is a student at Pioneer Pacific College’s Wilsonville campus. He is enrolled in the Legal Assistant/Paralegal Program.
In high school I was a redneck, a member of the brew and chew crew. We drank beers (American) on the weekends and chewed tobacco (Copenhagen). Like every high school across the country, we had our traveling groups, our cliques. There were the rednecks, the jocks, the freaks, and, unique to our class, were the happies. The happies were exactly as you may picture, the popular girls, and some guys, who bounced around the school as if medicated. Nowhere else could they receive more joy than by being in high school.
As rednecks, our arch rivals were the freaks. We saw them as cigarette smokin’, pot smokin’, acid eatin’, Grateful Dead listenin’—freaks. Throughout high school, this was the group I associated with the music of the Grateful Dead (GD), and, consequently, I went out of my way to not listen to any of it.
In college, I started working at summer camps. Upon my arrival, I learned very quickly they were full of the types of people we had labeled freaks in high school and, that therefore, the Grateful Dead was a large part of the music and community of camp. I fought it for a while, but eventually I realized I preferred the girls who were part of this group and started spending time with them and listening to the music. This music became the backdrop of my life from then on. The GD sang and played about life: life, labor, and love. It was American music in its truest form.
The GD and, consequently, the bands that have followed their lead, (Dave Matthews Band and Phish, for example), were counter to the idea of what music was supposed to be. The last forty years have seen the push of higher quality, studio recorded, consistent music in the form of vinyl records, 8-tracks, cassettes, CDs, and now mp3s. This has enabled large numbers of people to own and have access to the same identical music. The GD and the fans who followed them spent their energy and time living the music one show, one song at a time. Real life was as it happened and was, as they say, warts and all.
The boys in the band let people record their shows, and a whole sub-culture was formed around the trading and collecting of their live shows. Because of this, the recorded albums were not the lifeblood of the group. People would buy the albums but would treasure the tapes. Listening to or owning the studio album of Terrapin Station was good, but listening to or, especially, owning a copy of the band’s performance at the Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino, California, in 1977 was a rite of passage, a badge of honor only surpassed by having been there. To go to a show was to live a life experience. The parking lot was an entry to this world, often times filled with a broad diversity of people, clothes, food, drugs, and beliefs. The people were all there for the same purpose. Their reasons may have differed greatly, but the purpose was to be a part of a community that didn’t judge, encouraged personal expression, and lived in the moment through music that was made in the moment.
For more than thirty years, the GD made a living by playing, often more than 100 shows a year. They worked hard. They didn’t just produce an album, a single effort if you will, and live off the residuals of that; they worked a job just like the rest of us. They played many songs depicting work in America, from the Depression era “Cumberland Blues” about working in the mines for five dollars a day to the story of life on the road of a fugitive on the run in “Me and My Uncle.” These songs were about the hardships of life and work. Compared with the songs of the hip-hop world of today focusing on “money, bitches, and bling,” the songs of the Dead showed that there were people living a life similar to, or at least understandable to, us. They made a connection with their audience each time.
My favorite three GD songs are about women. These three songs cover the main types of women encountered on a journey through life. The good girl, the fun girl, and the soul mate. “Katie Mae’s a good girl, she don’t roam around at night” (lyrics from “Katie Mae”). This is the girl a person sometimes feels they are stuck with, but, who, in reality, is the girl they really want to end up with. She is generally smart, calm, comfortable, a good woman. “She wore scarlet begonias tucked into her curls, I knew right away she was not like other girls, other girls” (lyrics from “Scarlet Begonias”). In my early camp years, I met a girl I considered to be my “Scarlet Begonias” girl. She was great fun, full of life, always on the go, always smiling, and making friends everywhere she went. Although the song, “Stella Blue,” is about a guitar, it is a great love song. “Stella Blue” is about the happiness and heartache of love. It’s about life with a soul mate.
The Grateful Dead is a part of our cultural history, and several generations of people over the last 40-plus years have made their music and their shows a part of their lives. The band took basic concepts of life, labor, and love and put them into a format that the average person could understand and that allowed them to experience them with many thousands of other people. They are not uniquely American topics, but the freedom to communicate the notions freely, and to make a living doing so, is.
Roxanne Stevens
Roxanne Stevens is a Health Care Administration Program Director at Pioneer Pacific College.
“Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way…after all, tomorrow is another day.”
Scarlett O’Hara from Gone With the Wind
When it comes to postponing unpleasant tasks, Scarlett O’Hara has a talent for procrastination. With so much as a “fiddle-dee-dee,” any disagreeable situation is simply swept away to another time and place. Although Scarlett is a fictional character who exhibits traits of any normal Civil War era spoiled, self-indulged Southern Belle, can it be assumed that she may have suffered some tiny measure of anxious guilt over her penchant to put off that which could be dealt with today? I’ll leave this to be answered at a later time.
Procrastination is a human construct that can be traced to ancient Greece. Around 7th or 8th century B.C., a citizen of ancient Greece named Hesiod wrote poetry and philosophized about life. He had extremely ardent feelings about procrastination, a trait which he deemed to be something akin to unpardonable sin and sloth (Gura). As an upstanding pillar of Greek society, Hesiod had no sense of humor or patience when it came to procrastination.
Although records of Hesiod’s life are a bit sketchy, it is believed he was raised among a society of farmers and was subjected to a harsh upbringing. Since life at that time was heavily dependent on agriculture as a food source, crops had to be maintained on a tight seasonal schedule or starvation could result (Gura). Consequently, Hesiod felt a farmer who favored watching the latest sporting event over tilling the soil should be dispatched to live with the Gods on Mt. Olympus permanently.
Although procrastination today is hardly deemed punishable by the same methods used in ancient Greece, we who engage in procrastination are generally subjected to a slow, tortured anxiety-ridden mental status caused by our personal choices. What seems like a perfectly justifiable choice at the time ends up becoming the bane of our existence at a later date. We veer off course from the here and now because we are distracted and enticed by a variety of options we perceive to be far more exciting than the task at hand. There is a propensity to sabotage our own good intentions. If a task seems like it will be tedious or boring, what fun activity can be substituted instead?
Dragging our feet is usually accompanied by an element of guilt inflicted upon our psyche at an early age. Parents have been able to exert their influence over children many years after they have grown into adulthood. I suspect it is some type of genetic mind message that has been passed down over the ages from the parents of Hesiod in ancient Greece.
My mother had a philosophical expression of admonishment for every occasion, and procrastination was right at the top of her list. In typical childhood fashion, excuses were the method of choice to escape the drudgery of chores.
I can still hear those prophetic words as my mother would look heavenward as if speaking to the Gods of Mt. Olympus and say, “The chickens will come home to roost.”
Of course, in order to ward off the curse of ages, a cure was measured in how quickly one could reply, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it done.”
This would then only prompt an even more ominous prophecy, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
Years later, I still engage in elements of procrastination but cannot help feeling twinges of unpardonable sin and sloth.
Procrastination is a behavior that usually evolves from a perception of a state or condition. There may be some hardwired elements of personality that lend to a habit of procrastination, but psychologists consider procrastination to be a learned behavior (Gura). In the case of Scarlett O’Hara, upbringing seems to be the biggest contributing factor associated with a reluctance to deal with situations that are perceived unpleasant. Scarlett’s rationalization might have been an acceptable behavior befitting the culture of her upbringing.
For years, psychologists have been striving to gain a better understanding of why individuals choose to put something off and the strategies that would help to keep us from delaying the inevitable. Humans are naturally inclined to avoid that which is perceived to be disagreeable, but there are prices to pay for perpetually dragging our feet (Gura). Fear of failing or not being able to finish are insecurities that we perceive as threats to overall harmony by saying, “Avoidance will make it go away.” Instead, the things we avoid are only delayed to resurface later with feelings of regret. We know inherently that this will occur but continue down the same path time after time.
Students have a reputation for being notorious procrastinators, a quality that has actually enabled the development of highly adaptive skills in other areas designed to overcome the most tedious situations. Most students will freely admit to this practice which is known as “planned” procrastination or how to make a bad habit good (Gura).
In an example illustrated by Gura, students who waited until the last minute to start a class project were able to conquer anxious guilt. They would immediately obtain all books designated for a project as soon as the project was assigned. The books would then be prominently displayed on a shelf, a ritual translating into symbolized transference of feelings. The discomfort of guilt becomes “shelved,” and the vehicle of transference is accomplished when students say, “Hey, at least I got the books” (Gura). Books would be removed from the shelf 48 hours prior to the assignment deadline, and students would proceed at warp speed to complete the assignment in time, thereby exerting the utmost effort within the least amount of time. The discomfort of feeling guilty was kept to a minimum (Gura). By using “planned” procrastination, students were actually able to develop elevated adaptive skills of survival and tactical planning (Gura).
Procrastination may serve as a temporary fix for our psychological well-being. It is an overpowering urge that rises to the surface as a need. Why do we procrastinate? The answer is simple—because we can. So, the next time you feel like putting something off, just tell yourself it is an exercise in perfecting your survival and tactical planning skills.
Works Cited
Gura, T. “I’ll Do It Tomorrow.” Scientific American Mind. 19.6: 27-33. EBSCOhost (Capella University). Web. 14 October, 2009.
“Hesiod.” The Columbia Encyclopedia. 2008. EBSCOhost (Capella University). Web. 14 October, 2009.
Mitchell, Margaret. Gone With the Wind. New York: MacMillan, 1936. Print.