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The Dangers of Confident Idiocy

We are idiots. Every single one of us. Not all the time, but enough of the time. Most of us don’t intend to be idiots; we just are. Because humans are prone to make mistakes. Humans are prone to make poor choices. Humans are prone to indecision that leads to negative consequences. Even if you’re smart, well-educated, mature, and wise, you have and/or will come across a moment that you will look back on someday and declare, “Boy, I sure was an idiot when _______.” Possibly more than one. It’s really part of the human condition. Idiocy can be the very thing that leads us to wisdom, IF we’re willing to learn, to grow, to accept our own limitations and either work to overcome them or accept help. But that can be a tough thing, “willing to…” In a country like the United States, where so many in the populace pride themselves on a myth of self-reliance and individualism, a “by my own bootstraps” mindset that often ignores and avoids admitting mistakes and seeking help, it’s no wonder that wisdom and maturity end up in short supply. What replaces them is often unwarranted confidence mixed with a large dose of ignorance, or worse, just a tiny bit of knowledge. It becomes an almost poisonous mix that isn’t likely to lead to anything good. And the confident idiot that decides to forge ahead armed only with their own self-assurance and misconceptions tends to wreak havoc on themselves and possibly others.

We have all met these people. My own life has been littered with them, among family, co-workers, acquaintances, and even, occasionally, people I call friends. Although to be fair, I try to be a good friend who gently challenges my friends’ notions when they’re confident in their own idiocy. Because friends don’t let friends be idiots. Friends don’t let friends embark alone on some project for which they are massively unqualified. A friend honestly asks, “Do you have the background and experience to make that work?” Friends don’t watch each other looking pale and worn out, stopping to catch their breath while simply walking, and say nothing, especially if it’s something unusual. Friends don’t let friends ignore the pain in their side, or in their knees, or especially in their head. A friend notices the change in behavior and says, “Maybe you should see a doctor.” Better to be safe than sorry, to be prepared than overmatched, to seek help when it’s appropriate.

Health issues are commonly where we all experience, and possibly engage in, confident idiocy. When’s the last time you had a physical exam complete with tests of at least your blood and urine? I know that might be a sensitive question, but the answer often reveals this behavior pattern. I will admit that I had been resistant to the annual physical exam prior to entering my 50s, but I am happy to say I got over my trepidation, found a doctor who I believed would give me the kind of direct, no-nonsense advice I need, and committed to regular checkups. More importantly, I follow his advice and make the adjustments to diet, exercise, lifestyle, etc., that he recommends. I’m not going to be the guy who assumes “when you go to the doctor, it’s guaranteed they’ll find something wrong.” I’m not going to be the guy who hears the doctor but only listens selectively because “I was a pre-med major during my freshman year in college.” (Who-knows-how many years ago…) I’m not going to be the guy who arbitrarily decides that all doctors are just stooges of big pharma, looking to prescribe unnecessary medications. Sure, if you think your doctor is over-medicating you, then seek out someone new. But drawing conclusions about all doctors, especially if you have no medical training, is irresponsible and irrational. And no, watching stuff about medical professionals on YouTube doesn’t qualify as medical training. Consulting a doctor only when you’re sick, ignoring regular exams, and especially ignoring standard medical advice isn’t a smart path to a healthy and productive life. Why ignore or even actively defy the opinion(s) of experts who have spent years training and practicing their craft, which is designed to help you?

Therein lies a key to the confident idiot. Expertise. Or rather, lack of expertise. The confident idiot doesn’t subscribe to needing experts. They don’t think they need assistance. They don’t want your fancy “book learning.” “They’ve done just fine with their finances, or their health, or their emotions, or their vehicles, or their home, or, or, or…” And therefore, they believe they have no need of “so-called experts.” Anytime you hear someone use that phrase, you can expect to encounter confident idiocy, because the phrase “so-called” intentionally attempts to belittle the experts, thereby elevating the apparent knowledge of the confident idiot, at least in his/her mind. “So-called” is nothing more than an attempt to dismiss expertise — of the doctor, the nurse, the physician’s assistant, the attorney, the legal assistant, the teacher, the principal, counselor, the therapist, the auto mechanic, the industrial engineer, the architect, the urban planner, the government worker, the realtor, the HVAC technician, the plumber, the roofer, the musician, the videographer, the photographer, the sound engineer, the contractor, the electrician, the construction worker…heck, even the server at a restaurant. Think of any profession that requires a measurable amount of training and experience, wherein the individual develops any level of expertise on a subject over time, and there is a confident idiot out there who will refer to that person as a “so-called expert.” That’s the mental game that’s played. And in this era of social media and YouTube, too often the mental game leads to content creation designed to belittle expertise on a global scale. And confident idiocy spreads like a virus.

That virus does damage, and plenty of it. Sometimes the damage seems minor, like when an obstinate husband insists that he knows where he’s going, so he refuses to ask anyone for directions or consult GPS and ultimately gets lost, or at least arrives late to the destination. Sometimes the damage is major, like the parent who rejects routine vaccinations on behalf of her children for eradicated diseases like measles, only to spark an outbreak of measles later on. “But I saw a video on YouTube explaining the dangers of childhood vaccines.” What did your doctor say? “I don’t trust doctors.” Uh-huh. Sometimes the damage is downright catastrophic, like the lifelong smoker who refuses to quit, who eats unhealthy much of the time, and who doesn’t heed tiny warning signs until it’s too late. “If only we knew.” You could’ve known, except for the confident idiocy that assumed everything would just be fine and avoided routines scans and checkups. Sometimes the damage has a ripple effect, like the parent who insists on “home-schooling” her child despite being wholly unqualified to do so, then attempts to enroll that child as a high school freshman only to learn the student is several years behind academically. “Can you still help her get into a good college?” Let’s try to ensure she can pass high school classes first, let alone graduate. College is the least of her worries right now. Or perhaps it’s the person who died without any kind of will, or a will that hasn’t been properly prepared and/or vetted by a licensed attorney, so the estate goes through more hassles and legal fees than necessary. All because a confident idiot just decided that attorneys’ fees are merely attempts to siphon off cash with no benefit. Uh-huh. Instead, that person passes more expensive burdens onto the survivors in the name of self-reliance. “I can do it just fine.” Can you?

And therein lies the real question: How well can you, the person in the mirror, succeed without help, and in what ventures? Maybe you are the kind of person who can learn with incredible ease, and a few trustworthy videos online and perhaps a book or two are all you need to learn what you need. Or maybe you’re not. Or maybe you have no idea what you really need. I’ve observed both types of people many times, both in the education world and in the voiceover world. And the truth is, even the people who can figure it out easily on their own usually shouldn’t because they don’t have to. There’s always someone available to help, and they’re not always cost-prohibitive, especially when you consider the greater cost of insisting on individuality, failing spectacularly, and being forced to seek help, sometimes in desperation. For every person who is adept at using YouTube to figure out how to complete a complex project, there are many more that mess it up and spend more money calling in an expert to clean up the mess. The education world is riddled with teachers who struggled or failed unnecessarily because they refused help. The voiceover world is riddled with talents who were forced to work harder because they refused to seek quality coaching and/or sent out a terrible DIY demo. But seeking out help when you don’t even know you might need it requires a significant amount of introspection. It requires you to take a truly honest look in the mirror, at your own skills, at your own experience, and at your own goals, and admitting that maybe, just maybe…you, too, are an idiot in the context at hand. But at the very least, you don’t have to project false confidence about yourself in spite of it.

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Get Busy Living

What matters to you? I don’t mean abstract philosophical concepts like peace, love, and happiness. This isn’t a pageant interview. But I’ll ask again: What matters to you? More specifically, what aspects of your life matter to you? What are your personal and professional priorities? Who do you care about? Whose company do you enjoy? Whose presence do you value? Who and what make you better, as a professional, as a family member, as a parent or child, as a human being? What people, thoughts, items, attitudes, habits, foods, routines, and experiences help you live a better life?

Yes, that is a lot of introspection heading into a holiday weekend in the middle of summer. But don’t forget, the second half of 2026 just began, so it’s a great time to re-evaluate the year’s progress, and these questions serve a deeper purpose tied to a simple concept: Life Is Short. If you prefer, “life moves pretty fast, as Ferris Bueller famously quipped. Or pick another favorite maxim — Live Life to the Fullest. Make Every Moment Count. Dance Like No One’s Watching. Time Waits for No One. Carpe Diem. These are all actually uplifting sentiments, geared toward personal progress. For me, they’ve been incredibly comforting of late, because I’ve recently been cataloging the losses I’ve experienced, either personally or vicariously, over the past few years.

Out of nowhere (not really, but it felt like it), I received the news recently that my high school graduating class is having its 40-year reunion this fall. Yes, I graduated high school in 1986; I’m old. I never attended my 10-, 20-, 25-, 30-, or 35-year reunions (most likely because I was involved in some kind of PA announcing gig or something similar), but I’ll actually be free to attend this year, and I really want to go. One of the requests made by an organizer was an update on all the members of our class that we know have passed away. They want to have a tribute featuring photos of those who are no longer around to join us, and I love the idea. Trouble is, researching for those kinds of projects is tough, not because the information is difficult to find, but because you have to learn or relive news about all the people who have died with whom you literally grew up. It’s a bit of a gut-punching exercise. Sometimes I’ve run across old stories about people who passed away tragically in an accident. More often, I’ve learned that several people in my class suffered with disease before passing away. I learned during this search that one of my friends whom I first met back in junior high had died suddenly in 2013 due to complications from the flu. I came to learn she had devoted her adult life to nonprofit service benefiting impoverished youth and homeless adults, and that her unexpected passing impacted many beyond her family. Empirically, I understand that tragedies like this are a statistical likelihood, but still, when it’s someone whose face, voice, and demeanor you remember perfectly, it hits you. When you learn about the things they accomplished in life before dying, and read tributes offered by those who knew them as adults, it can be heartbreaking.

The process became even more difficult as the layers I peeled back during this exercise revealed or reminded me of losses that weren’t in my graduating class. You come across news like this, and you fall down the proverbial rabbit hole, recalling loss after loss. I had a friend who graduated in 1985, who I had even encountered at a 5k race in 2019. I learned that he passed from cancer two years later. I remembered two different former teaching colleagues I knew from working summer drum major camps who had passed away in 2020 and 2022. I recalled another teaching colleague who had battled cancer tenaciously since 2019 but finally succumbed in the fall of 2025. A man I knew from my church died suddenly of a heart attack last August, literally days after I had spoken with him. I also learned recently that my supervising teacher from my student teaching experience had passed away in October 2024. Of course, there have been losses in my family in recent years, including my father in 2020 and my mother just this past February. Sure, death is a part of life, but it can be really sobering to explore it consistently.

But while it can be an easy trap to lament the fragility of life and offer a morose monologue like Billy Crystal at the beginning of City Slickers, what I realize more deeply after exploring these passings is that each day we have on this planet really IS a gift. We’re therefore called to do something with each day, aren’t we? I believe we are, regardless of whether one believes in God or not. But what we are specifically called to do isn’t necessarily some grand gesture, some massive project that revolutionizes things, or some miraculous achievement that will live in the proverbial record books for years to come. Sure, those are great, but there’s real beauty in life to be found from day-to-day activities, even if they might seem mundane. Beauty in being genuinely nice to others, not for any type of appearance or advantage, but just because we should. Beauty in doing certain things because they’re necessary, or helpful, or just the right thing to do. Beauty in being a decent human being. There’s beauty in just about everything around us, too, including nature and man-made things. I consider incumbent upon us to have at least marginal appreciation for the beauty of each day, and of this world, and to show it at some level.

Does this mean we all need to spin around every day like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music and sing? Of course not, although if that’s your thing, you do you. My point is that daily life is all about priorities. Just as we are called to certain things, we are NOT called to other things. We’re NOT called to drive angry, and gripe at other drivers. For that matter, we are NOT called to drive cluelessly, without regard for the rules of the road, mindlessly focused on ourselves, our phones or some other distraction. We are NOT called to obsess over every negative person at our work, or every menial task, or every annoying element. We are NOT called to negative emotions about things we see on the internet, annoying or offensive as they may be. We are NOT called to jealousy or judgment over things we see on social media. We are NOT called to obsess over political matters, nor are we called to wrap our own identities in affiliation with a political party or any politician. We are NOT called to wrap ourselves in isolation, constantly viewing the world only through the lens of video games, or YouTube, or other video sites, or social media, or even simply broadcast or cable television. Granted, some of the things I’ve just described can be unavoidable. Everyone has “one of those days” at work or at home. Everyone enjoys a little time in front of a TV or a computer. Everyone has encounters on the road, or at work, or at a store, that are challenging due to a disagreement, a misunderstanding, or just plain stupidity. These things will happen. But if your day is consumed or “ruined” by these things, you are missing an opportunity.

Every day is an opportunity for each one of us. We can notice the beauty of nature — blue skies, cool cloud formations, healthy vegetation, birds in the air, ducks on a pond, even dogs on walks with their owners. We can marvel at the intricacy of the network of roads we’ve managed to develop, even if we’re stuck in traffic or have to avoid bumps and potholes. Most importantly, we should acknowledge how fortunate each of us is to live and breathe in an era where life expectancy is as long as its ever been, and where so many of our “problems” are issues of inconvenience. Is it a perfect world? Far from it, but even as we work to resolve real problems like food insecurity, homelessness, and healthcare inequity, we can acknowledge good fortune, good works, and most importantly, good people.

At the end of the day (literally), the question becomes, on-balance, are we fulfilled? In other words, did the positives of our day outweigh the negatives? We know we’ll encounter negatives; it’s inevitable. Sometimes we have to seek out the positives to outweigh the negatives and achieve fulfillment. Daily fulfillment slowly adds up. At the end of our lives, we can look back not in anger, but in peace. This is why people say no one ever laid on their death bed wishing they could spend more time at work, or in traffic, or watching the news. Instead, they wish they could watch a sunset or sunrise, pet their dog, walk in the park, or have more time with their loved ones. It’s at the heart of “Get Busy Living, or Get Busy Dying,” from The Shawshank Redemption. I’ve written about this mindset before. In fact, I reposted those thoughts on the brevity of life with an audio version just last week. Knowing we will encounter negative stimuli in this world, knowing that fulfillment will ultimately come from the positives outweighing the negatives, it’s imperative every day for us to seek out that which enriches us and avoid that which strains us. To take the Shawshank metaphor a step further, we have to leave behind the prisons (often of our own making) that confine us, and seek something better. For many of those friends and colleagues that are gone too soon, I take comfort in the knowledge that they served others, that they didn’t die easy or angry, that they were surrounded by love and support, not jealousy, politics, bitterness, sloth, cowardice, or entitlement.

When I was in the classroom teaching economics, I always approached the concept of scarcity — unlimited needs and wants juxtaposed against limited resources — with a personal exercise for students: everyone has their time, talent, and energy, and the economics of an individual’s life hinged upon the choices they made with those resources. Students had to answer A) what they sought from their economic lives and B) how they might intend to achieve it within the confines of their time, talent, and energy. And the lesson always came back to this: Talent and energy can be manipulated, grown, and developed, but the only truly fixed quantity in our lives is time. And we waste way too much of it on things that don’t take us where we wish to go. (Talent and energy, too.) Given that reality, that frame of reference, why would we spend another minute thinking about people who do nothing but bring us down? Why would we care at all about what someone says about us online, or in a text, or even in a conversation behind our backs? Why would we engage with anyone who is fundamentally dishonest, or self-absorbed, or perpetually angry? Why would we worry about what someone else thinks about what we’re wearing, or watching, or doing with our time? Why would we remain working at jobs we hate that offer no redeeming qualities, moments, or co-workers? Granted, as I mentioned earlier, some things are unavoidable — all but a select few of us will have to work to earn money, we all have to clean and maintain our living quarters, we all have to complete menial tasks. But outside of what’s necessary, we are not obligated to immerse ourselves in the negative. And it really doesn’t matter if you’ve worked at this place for 10 years, or you’ve known this person forever, or your parents did things this way, or even if that person is a family member. If the day-to-day balance is negative, then sometimes habits, things, places, and even people need to become part of the past. Too often, we are overcome by the negatives and fail to immerse ourselves in the positives of life. We don’t make time for those things, people, and experiences that will fulfill us. Mohandas Gandhi famously said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” But before you can do that, you might have to facilitate the change you need to see in yourself. Feed the parts of yourself that need to grow. Spend your time doings the things, cultivating the habits, being around the people who make you, and your life, better. So I ask again: What matters to you?

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Say. My. Name.

Your name is one of the first words you recognize in life. It is critical to your early development, giving you identity, offering you a sense of importance when people take the time to learn it, and especially to use it. You’ll hear it your entire life. It is each individual’s ultimate symbol of recognition. “That’s my name. That’s me.” Learning and using someone’s name establishes a sense of connection. Alternatively, not using it, or saying it incorrectly, creates a sense of estrangement or worse, animosity. Some people who consistently hear their name mispronounced, especially by teachers and other adults over the course of an academic career, might get used to it. They resign themselves to accept that their name will be mildly butchered consistently, and they look forward hopefully toward that day when someone will actually say it right.

That academic career will eventually reach an important benchmark, a life event known as Graduation Day. I think most people have mixed feelings when they ponder Graduation Day. On one level, it represents the culmination of academic achievement; completing 12-13 years of compulsory education, 1-3 years of post-secondary work, or perhaps 4-12 or more years at the collegiate level. Its beauty lies in its status as closure, even though it’s often called commencement, a term that also means “beginning.” On another level, it perfectly encapsulates the notion of “hurry up and wait.” Arrive at the venue 2 or more hours early; proceed into a holding room and sit, or even stand, for 30-60 minutes. March out into the venue or onto the stage, then sit some more and listen to speeches in which you may only Be mildly interested. All of it just so you, your family, and perhaps some friends, can experience the briefest of moments, perhaps as many as 5 seconds, where your name is announced and you begin to walk, after which you shake several hands belonging to people you may or may not know, and you receive an empty diploma cover that will, eventually, contain the single piece of paper for which you have sacrificed and studied. Depending on the age of the participants, Graduation Day elicits a sense of respect, fondness, or even derision from observers. At some point, Kindergarten Graduation became a fairly standard thing at most elementary schools, much to the chagrin of some. At campuses that serve grades K though 8, Eighth Grade Graduation is still common, which makes sense, given that students attended the school for up to 9 years. Then again, we’re living in an era when many public school districts separate into elementary, intermediate, and middle schools, and let’s face it: holding graduations at Kindergarten, Fourth Grade, Sixth Grade, and Eighth Grade is overkill. But they all pale in comparison to High School Graduation.

Some observers actually scoff at High School Graduation, as well, because “It’s not that big of a deal; we all know we’re going to make it out of high school.” We could argue about how that’s actually NOT the case for everyone, since there are still students for whom the endurance needed to complete high school is a challenge, and believe it or not, there are still families where a given student walking the stage this May is the first one in the family to do so. But the worthiness of the achievement isn’t the point. The point is that High School Graduation is a time-honored rite of passage, maybe one of the most important and universal such experiences across countries, cultures, and creeds. It is, as I stated earlier, a life event. A big one. (That’s why multiple graduations at earlier grade levels get so annoying; they dilute the experience.) The High School Graduation is pretty unique and special precisely because it is the culmination of more than a decade of academic work. And at its core is that moment for each individual student when their name is announced, and they cross the stage. It will happen literally millions of times this May and June, so it may be easy to dismiss from a statistical perspective, but from a human perspective, each name is monumentally important, in each moment, to that graduate. And the pressure placed on the individual announcing those names is massive. All eyes are on each student, but all ears are cued in to the name announcer, hoping to hear each one spoken correctly.

For me, as a voiceover talent, Graduation Day approaches nirvana. It is one of the most daunting yet exhilarating Live Announce experiences a VO pro can have. I relish that feeling, I love the gig, and I approach it with the utmost seriousness. 2026 marks the 31st year I will read names at a high school graduation. My first foray into announcing names at graduation came in 1996 at Mansfield High School, when I was actually part of a team of 3 people. Two years later, I was asked to announce all the names, for a reason I will detail later. When Summit High School recognized its first graduating class in 2003, I announced all those names. A decade later, Mansfield ISD hired me to announce all names at all of its graduations, and I continued with that privilege even after I departed the district in 2019. Budget cuts ended that run, but I still announced graduation for Grand Prairie High School during the five years I worked there from 2021 through 2025. Now, after my retirement from K-12 public education, I’ve been fortunate to be hired as Peter Ponce, Voice Talent, by Burleson ISD and Grand Prairie ISD to announce all names for all their ceremonies. I cannot wait to showcase these students.

“Showcase?” you ask. Absolutely. That is what it’s all about. I’ve written before about how PA work is about the event, not the announcer. And for a high school graduation, that rule is more important than ever. It applies not just to the singular event, but to every single student participating. When it comes down to it, everyone in the venue at a high school graduation is there for one thing, but it’s ironically a different thing for nearly everyone. They don’t care about the speeches, hearing the choir sing whatever traditional song the school uses, seeing some kind of special performance, or the accolades the principal will highlight. They don’t care how much scholarship money the class has been offered, or the advice the superintendent or another speaker offers. They want to hear two things: 1) the official Statement of Conferral by the superintendent, wherein the students are actually deemed “graduates,” and 2) the name of the person(s) they’re here to celebrate. And depending on where #2 occurs in the full list of graduates, there will be some restlessness in the room, so get to the end sooner than later, please.

I like to joke with people that I am the only person anyone wants to hear speaking at graduation. And there’s a little bit of truth embedded in the joke. There’s a reason that Mansfield ISD originally hired me to do six ceremonies beginning in 2013. People heard me at the Summit graduation and asked, “Why don’t the other schools get the same kind of professional treatment Summit receives?” There’s a reason I get hired for this gig now. I’m good at it, and I’m experienced, which makes me even better than most. In the past, I’ve announced as many as 800 names in a single ceremony. Just me at the podium for up to an hour or longer, with a list, a microphone, and usually a series of cards handed or shown to me so I know who to announce next. It is its own art form, truly different from the “conversational read” of commercials or even the standard read for more conventional live announce copy. And it boils down to three key elements.

Pronunciation. It should go without saying, but you’d be amazed at how many VO talents literally say “I’m terrible with names.” Hopefully they stay away from live announce gigs of any kind, because names are typically involved in those. I happen to be great with names, and you can imagine why. My name has been mispronounced all my life. The true Spanish pronunciation is “PÔN-seh.” I typically tell people it’s “PON-say.” (Rhymes with Beyonce, if that helps.) But I’ve heard and accepted the single-syllable “PONS” all my life, and I only correct someone when they say the truly infuriating “POUNCE.” (Ain’t no U in my name, people.) I literally approach every graduation job in solidarity with all the individuals out there whose names have been mangled throughout their academic careers. I See You. More importantly, I Hear You, and I hear your name, properly pronounced. One of my favorite things when I’m visiting a campus to speak with students and make phonetic notes for myself is that moment when I read a student’s name correctly the first time and get that ecstatic reaction: “You’re the first person who’s ever said my name right!” That is the job here, after all, and it’s not hyperbole to say it is sacred to me. EVERY name matters in this setting, and every announcement needs to be my absolute best.

A quick story: In 1997, I was part of a 3-person team announcing names for Mansfield High School’s graduation. I had the middle of the alphabet, roughly last names G through P. I had also taught a student that year named Bryan Schenck, whose name was not on my list. Nice kid, good student. Quiet; probably never said more than 10 words to me, even though I saw him 90 minutes every day for 18 weeks as his teacher for both government and economics. I think he made an A in both classes, but he drew very little attention to himself. Just making his way through high school. I hope he’s gone onto a happy, successful life, but like most students, I don’t know that he was going to experience a lot of huge recognition in a public setting wherever life took him. So hear comes Bryan Schenck, quiet and nice student, and the person assigned to read his name says “Bryan Shriiieeenk?” when it came time for him to cross the stage. And the look of quiet defeat in his face when he heard his name A) pronounced wrong, and B) stated with a question mark, is burned in my brain forever. And lo, the very next year I was asked to read ALL the names. And every year, every graduation, I think about Bryan Schenck, and I quietly vow that no student will have that same experience.

Have I achieved a 100% success rate on pronunciations? I have friends who insist so, but I know that statistically, it’s impossible. But I also know that I NEVER say a name with a question mark. And if I have messed up, it’s probably on a particular detail in a syllable here or there, yet the name is still fundamentally correct. That’s because I study and practice. And study and practice. And study and practice. I know that for MOST of these young people, this is the most high-profile public recognition they will ever receive. The only time when they’ll hear their name announced and receive applause, specifically for them. And they deserve the dignity of having a professional voiceover talent read their name correctly, with authority and confidence, in this moment. Yeah, high school graduation may be “no big deal,” but this moment matters for every single student.

Consistency. Again, this should probably go without saying, but you might be amazed at how I’ve heard certain non-professionals approach graduation names. They often fall into a pattern that VO coaches might call “sing-song.” Sing-song is typically frowned upon in VO, anyway. Sometimes talents are coached to vary pitch when listing characteristics or places (what you might call the “NBC Rule”), but when the job involves listing people’s names, you maintain a consistent pitch and volume. I recall a promo coaching session I once had with the great Mark Rider where he noted that the athletes named in a promo for the NFL, NBA, MLB, etc., are all considered equally important to the league, so the performance calls for each one to have similar emphasis. The same principle applies to graduations. Sure, the top graduates in the class, along with the officers for the senior class and student body, are likely to receive some type of extra recognition during the ceremony, but when it comes time to cross the stage, we present the __________ High School Class of 2026, then list the names. They are equally important as individuals within that group, and each name needs to receive the same emphasis. All means All, as they say.

Pace. Here’s the characteristic that perhaps doesn’t go without saying, but it’s possibly the most important, not just for how each student is ultimately presented, but how the ceremony itself proceeds. When I’m announcing a name that is considered “difficult” because it’s of a global origin, or it’s got an unusual combination of syllables, or it’s spelled in an unusual manner, or it has an apostrophe that alters the sound, etc., the trick is not simply pronouncing it correctly from a phonetic perspective. The trick lies in saying it correctly and naturally. I have a list with hundreds of names on it, and I’m supposed to say ALL of them like I just know them. It’s not that different from your average commercial read. When you read commercial copy, you’re not supposed to sound like you’re reading. You’re just speaking. When I announce names for graduation, I cannot sound like I’m sounding them out. That means that when I say “Oluwsean Ajeyi Oguntosin” followed by “Fernando Catalón Orellana Hernandez.” I have to sound like I know those names, I mean what I say, and most of all, I don’t fear what’s on the page. Same emphasis, 3 to 5 seconds apart, without hesitation or trepidation. It is an art form, and it is a gift, and I am privileged to have it and to have cultivated it to the professional level I can achieve.

Pace is also possibly the most critical skill that I have for the organizers of each graduation — the administrators who’ve established the logistics for the ceremony itself and the district officials who scheduled and publicized the event, booked the venue, and work with its operators to get the attendees in and out of the building. Here’s what happens too often: the name announcer(s) take way too long between names, the presentation of diplomas takes forever, the audience gets restless and annoyed, and the exit process is delayed, causing the next ceremony to encounter backlogs and bottlenecks. When that happens, no one’s happy during what should be a celebratory occasion. In contrast, when someone with my skills can deliver the proverbial goods in a timely manner, everyone’s happy because every student is appropriately honored and families can move onto their further celebrations.

And therein lies the point of the entire exercise, and this post: Graduation Day is a celebration of a milestone achieved, possibly the most public celebration most of these students will ever experience. You might not consider it a noteworthy achievement, but fact is that it’s a rite of passage that retains its importance in society because it allows us to honor and celebrate our children, and our students, even if it was a foregone conclusion that they will reach this marker in life. Sure, it’s a widely achieved, common moment, statistically speaking, but for each individual student, and for their families, it is still a special moment. As a professional voiceover talent and former educator, I comprehend and respect that moment in a way that few human VO talents, and certainly no AI-generated voice, can. I am here for it, and I will be here for it, for as long as schools place enough of a priority on that moment to invest in it by seeking my abilities and experience. If I have ever announced your name at graduation in the past or have the privilege of announcing it in the future, know this: Your Name Matters.

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Why Are You Yelling?

Every voiceover talent enters the profession from one of several paths. Most of the VO friends I have appear to have started in the world of radio and migrated to VO. Several others have a background in acting and decided to pursue voice acting instead of, or in addition to, stage and on-camera. As for me, I came from the world of public address announcing. I began as “the PA guy,” that voice you hear at a sporting event, band contest, or other occasion – welcoming you; giving you the lowdown on emergency exits and security; imploring you to show good sportsmanship, stay in your seats during a performance, or turn off your flash when taking photos; asking you to stand for the Alma Mater and/or National Anthem; and of course, telling you who’s performing next, who carried the ball or made the tackle, who scored that basket, committed that foul, is at the free throw line, or is batting next. I get to tell you who’s placed where or what the score is before thanking you for coming, inviting you to our next event, and wishing you a safe drive home. I’ve been doing this type of voice work for three decades now, and it is still incredibly fun and rewarding.

It was a little over 20 years ago that, at a band competition, I encountered a parent who worked for an agency in Dallas. She inquired if I was a professional voiceover talent. At the time, I was still a classroom teacher who simply did PA work on the side. She suggested I send her some clips that she could share with her bosses. What a massive moment for me – am I really good enough that someone thinks I do professional voiceover? I scraped together some recording equipment and scripts, did my reads, and sent them off to her. And what a massive wake-up call. “You need coaching.” (No surprise.) They recommended the great Bruce Carey in Dallas. I did a free consultation with him, and he was willing to work with me, but I wasn’t ready at that time to commit to VO training, financially or otherwise. Still, the experience opened my eyes to what I had been doing right up to that point as a “PA guy,” and especially how I might improve. And boy, did I have a long way to go. Obviously, I have since pursued proper VO training and begun a more professional track in the world of voiceover. But even though I’ve expanded my VO interests, genres, and goals, I still remain strongly connected to the world of PA and live announce. While it’s not necessarily the most lucrative work, I still find it every bit as fun and rewarding as ever. I love it. And yet, there’s still something that bothers me about this particular niche of voice work. How can I describe it? Perhaps “the yellers.” “The screamers.” The folks who either don’t understand the nuance of VO and how it can apply to live announce, or the ones who’ve never been trained at all and just think that yelling at the crowd somehow engages them.

On social media, I belong to or follow several PA-related groups, pages, and accounts. So I see lots of other PA announcers who post about their work, including photos of the venues and videos of their work. I’ve also captured lots of video of my own PA work and posted some of it to social media, though not necessarily to these groups. I can only speak for myself, but my primary purpose in recording video or audio of my PA work is really improvement. I don’t simply go back and watch to say, “Wow, I’m great!” I’m intentionally critical of my own performance – ensuring I emphasized the right words and phrases, looking for patterns that are too monotonous or “sing-songy,” that kind of thing. Throughout this self-assessment, I place a priority on two things: First, the clarity of the message. Am I giving the audience the information they need or want? If it’s something like a sponsor read, am I properly billboarding the sponsor’s name and inviting the audience to consider them? Am I saying the name(s) correctly? (This one’s a HUGE one for me – more on that in a future blog post.) Is my phrasing actually leading somewhere, coming across coherently and bringing the copy to life? Second, the tone of the message. My concern here is literal – pitch, volume, timbre, everything about my vocal quality. Just like with a commercial read, there’s an art to it – when to raise or lower the pitch, when to speak louder or softer, when to exteeeeeend a word, phrase, or name, when to clip a word, even when to add a little resonance, vocal fry, or possibly a bit of a growl. Achieve the right blend of clarity and tone, and you have what I would consider audience engagement. You’re adding to the event, but not overshadowing or overwhelming it.

The bottom line is that the PA guy, the announcer, the “voice of god” in VO industry parlance, is NOT the show. The show is on the floor, on the field, on the stage. The live announcer’s job is to frame, explain, or enhance the show. To assist in the presentation of the show in a positive, enjoyable, professional manner, while at the same time being sort of “forgettable” because the audience is ultimately, you know, enjoying the show. And it’s why the best live announcers in the business are names the average person won’t know unless they pay careful attention. Some are well-known because they’ve announced on the biggest stages, like Allen Roach at the Super Bowl or Randy Thomas at The Oscars. Others might have regional notoriety thanks to an association with a sports franchise or university, like Chuck Morgan with the Texas Rangers or Bob Ford with the Houston Astros and the University of Houston. Still others might find themselves associated with niche events, like a couple of friends of mine – Dan Potter, who announces shows for DCI and BOA, among others, and John Pollard, who announces shows for BOA and the UIL State Marching Band Contest. Maybe not everyone is going to love their individual styles – that’s the nature of the VO business in general – but these announcers all have credibility as voice artists in their own right because they fundamentally work to highlight someone else’s efforts, accomplishments, and excellence. That’s the job of the announcer; you’re the voice “behind it all,” as it were. The now-defunct National Association of Sports Public Address Announcers used to call it “the voice above the crowd.” People appreciate the work you do precisely because it does ΝΟΤ interfere with the event or annoy them. If you’re the show, you’re a problem.

Having said all that, you can likely understand my consternation when I come across posts in my Facebook feed, or on Twitter, or sometimes even on LinkedIn, and see PA announcers posting videos of themselves doing things that give me headaches and heartburn. So many of them “eat the mic” in the first place, putting their lips right up against the foam windscreen or the mic itself. Any VO professional knows this is terrible mic technique unless you’re going for a very specific effect. To add to it, these guys are often absolutely screaming into the mic regardless of the situation. To be fair, some situations call for volume from the PA announcer – for instance, I inject a lot of energy into starting lineups when I’m announcing college basketball, although I never max out my volume or risk harming my vocal cords. But I saw a video just the other day where a guy was announcing high school playoff basketball and absolutely screaming players’ names for every made basket, and then he absolutely lost his mind yelling the final score when the game ended. Keep in mind, it was a playoff game at a neutral site, meaning the PA is supposed to be impartial; and what’s more, in a highly contested playoff game with a large crowd, the PA doesn’t need to make any effort at all to pump up the crowd. They’re going to be excited and probably won’t even be listening to you. Even for a big home game, this announcer’s style was over-the-top, and yet pointless at the same time.

This is an all-too-common tale, and not just on social media. Someone posts a video, “here’s me at my local little league baseball game announcing the starting lineups,” featuring this person getting way too intimate with a Shure SM58 and YEEEELLLLLING EVERYOOOOOONE’S NAAAAAAAAMMMMMMEEEE. And of course, the comments are all “Great Job!” “Awesome!” “You’re crushing it!” And I’m looking in horror, saying, “You’re not crushing it, you’re crushing the fans’ ears. Why are you yelling?” There’s maybe 40 people at this game, and the only thing you’re crushing is their enjoyment. This isn’t engaging; it’s annoying. And inappropriate. Then I see another post of a PA announcer who put on a coat, tie, and nice pair of shoes to announce the starting lineups from the floor with a wireless microphone. And of course, his approach to the presentation mostly consisted of yelling. WHY?!? I mean, if your goal is to become an emcee for a college- or pro-level team, by all means, shoot your shot. Work at it. Make it happen. But I’m betting the local private school with a tiny gym that only has 5-8 rows of wooden bleachers doesn’t have a video board and isn’t looking for enhanced game presentation with an emcee and fan activities during timeouts. PA guy dressing up to announce from the floor in this setting just reeks of “making it about you.” And sorry to tell you, buddy, but no one there really cares about you. They care about the game on the floor, and they’re just humoring you and hoping you’ll finish whatever you’re doing real soon. I’m just not sure what some PA announcers are trying to accomplish at times, and I suspect it’s the inherent good nature of others in the group that prevents a lot of ridicule and embarrassment in the comments.

Now I’m sure someone might retort at this point, “Oh, great, here we go. Old guy hates new things and gripes about them. Get off his lawn while he yells at this cloud.” Give me a break. If you think good PA work involves extra volume more than 10% of the time, you are way off the mark. Yelling is neither innovative nor engaging. If you think good PA work involves being seen out there standing next to the players and praised like you’re part of the team, you have issues with ego and insecurity. The PA is part of a team, alright, but it’s a behind-the-scenes team that’s working to make the featured event function likes it’s supposed to. Quality live announce work is all about structure, timing, mood, and knowing your role, then executing your role to fit the presentation. And that role has changed greatly over the years. The old-school work of people like Bob Sheppard of the New York Yankees, who famously used a deliberate, even tone for every name he announced and just about every word he spoke, is all but gone. Sheppard’s style is considered iconic, but that’s primarily because of his longevity (also because it was the Yankees). Drop Bob Sheppard into a modern arena with a present-day game presentation and he is way out of his element. Live events now call for a certain level of enthusiasm. You have to sound like you want to be there, and you’re happy the fans are there, too (even if it’s completely false because the team is suffering through a long losing streak or you’re exhausted after getting to the venue at 6:00am this morning). This is the only place any of us wants to be at this time on this day, period. And that has to come through in your delivery.

Does that call for yelling? A handful of times, maybe. The vast majority of the time, NO. Sure, get boisterous announcing your home lineup. In a big moment, make the announcement big. After a big home win, let the home fans know that score. Bottom Line: Fit The Moment. And be judicious and consistent in how you approach each moment. When you yell too often, it’s way too easy to work your way into a place where that’s just about all you do. And then there’s no differentiation. If the entire game warrants yelling, then none of it really matters, and you’re just annoying in your PA work. So why are you yelling?

Part of me blames the major pro leagues for this trend. You hear screaming PA in way too many pro venues. At NFL venues with a PA guy yelling “It’s THIIIIIIIIIIRD DOOOOOOWWWWN” at every occurrence. At NBA venues where they have a PA guy yelling at the fans literally all game long, imploring them to chant “DE-FENSE” or “LET’S GO [TEAM NAME].” Is this what passes for fan engagement in the 21st century? And we’ve begun to hear this kind of stuff at some college and even high school venues. It drives me insane, mainly because these messages are why video boards were invented and have grown so massive. The video crew can put “Make Noise!,” “DE-FENSE!,” etc., on the board, and the crowd responds. This is how it works at baseball games. Heck, pipe in some drumming audio – the familiar rhythms of “We Will Rock You” are timeless. We don’t need someone eating the mic, screaming at the top of their lungs, causing damage to their own voice, just in the name of “hyping the crowd.” So why are you yelling?

“But we’re creating a rock concert atmosphere. Get with the times, old man.” Look, chief, if I buy tickets to AC/DC, you’d better believe I’m going to expect it to be loud. That’s their bit. If I’m going to any concert in an arena or stadium, I expect loud. But I ask you: Who’s delivering the loud? Is it some nameless PA guy in a coat and tie walking on stage and yelling “GIVE IT UP FOR AC/DC!!!!!” If the actual show on the stage is worth seeing, it needs no introduction. Similarly, if the game on the field is worth seeing, it needs no introduction. And yet, you may be called upon to give it an introduction, so at least make it appropriate. I’ll say it again: The PA announcer’s job is to frame, explain, or enhance the show. So do that. Enhance the game. Enhance the product the audience came to see. ESPECIALLY when the audience consists of a modest number of fans or attendees, many of whom are parents of the players on the field or court. ESPECIALLY when those players are non-professionals, young people who participate for the love of it. Maybe a few might – might – advance to collegiate or professional levels. But right now, it’s just a bunch of literal kids trying to have fun and win today’s game. This is not a rock concert. As a PA announcer, add to what they are doing. Feature them. Promote them. Make them the only thing you want to watch at this moment. And fit the moment. But screaming over the microphone won’t do anything to make them look or feel professional. It will just annoy them and the people who came to watch them. So why are you yelling?

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To Mom

My mother passed away on Saturday, February 7, 2026, at the age of 95. Soon, we will have her funeral and burial, and I’ve been asked to offer a eulogy. So I’ve been crystallizing thoughts about and memories of my mom, trying to develop a proper eulogy that appropriately captures the value and lessons of her life. This blog post is a step toward that end. 

“Fine. We’re fine. I’m fine.”

Those were the words my mother would offer anytime I asked her how she and my dad were doing, even as they aged. Even when I knew one or both of them had some kind of ailment. “We’re fine.” Even after my father passed in 2020, whenever we visited her, she always told us, “I’m fine.” After Alzheimer’s disease rendered her unable to respond verbally, I’m still fairly sure that, had I posed the question, that would’ve been her instinctive thought. “Fine.” That’s because my mother really never complained. She never focused on the negatives so many of us sometimes see. Mom was an unceasingly positive person. She viewed every day as a gift, and more often than not, she had good days. And even if today was not a good day, tomorrow would always be here soon enough. The sun will shine in the east in the morning. There will be new opportunities. This too, shall pass. Whatever didn’t happen just wasn’t meant to be, but what is meant to be will happen. God will provide.

Born on December 16, 1930 in Azusa, California, Jovita Enriqueta Murillo moved with her family as a young girl to El Paso, Texas, settling and growing up in the community of Ysleta, less than 3 miles from the Mexican border. It was there that Jovita attended the same school where her mother managed the cafeteria, Ysleta High School; and she also learned the value of a life in service to others. Jovita graduated from Ysleta High in 1948 and began a brief career in banking. She also enjoyed spending time and traveling with a variety of friends and relatives during her early adulthood, including visits to San Diego to see Abraham Ponce, whom she had met on St. Patrick’s Day in 1948, and who was serving there in the US Navy. Abe and Jovita eventually married on April 24, 1955 at the historic Ysleta mission, Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church. Upon becoming Mrs. Ponce, Jovita left the bank and began the adult life that she grew to adore.

The Ponces welcomed three girls and two boys into the family in El Paso. In 1971, a new job opportunity for Abe with the Community Services Administration in Dallas brought the family to Arlington, Texas, and the home Jovita lived in and loved for over 48 years — where she saw her children grow up and move into adulthood, and where she also adored and indulged five grandchildren. The house in west-central Arlington was a bit of a haven for her, and she relished her role as wife, mother, grandmother, housekeeper, baker, and chef in that space. Never a complaint. Always a positive outlook. Usually a cookie or snack waiting in the wings. She was fine.

Mom was willing to do basically whatever it took to keep her husband and children happy and comfortable. I can remember back to when I was basically still a toddler and struggled with nightmares – she was Mommy to me back then, and she calmly sat at the end of my bed providing a comforting presence so that I could return to sleep. Her willingness to support went beyond the family. When I was in high school at a summer drum major camp at UTA, my three teammates and I found ourselves with an extended break one late afternoon, but also short on cash for dinner. A quick phone call to Mom, and before long the four of us were enjoying some roast beef and vegetables she happened to have leftover, listening to jazz records on the family stereo. When I was in college, one of my best friends would occasionally ask if we could run to my house before band rehearsal because he thought Mom might have some cookies on-hand. She did, of course. I’m pretty sure she even made us sandwiches more than once.

That’s really who she was. A nurturer. A provider. Doing what you needed or wanted, content herself because you were happy. One of my favorite photos of Mom was taken before I was born, and featured Mom and my four siblings outside the El Paso International Airport when they were picking up my father after a business trip. She looks completely fulfilled in that photo, taking care of her husband and the kids – she seemed born for that role. Mom frequently found herself making the airport drive to pick up Dad over the years. When I was a preteen and a teenager, I was usually her right-hand man on such occasions, helping her navigate to DFW Airport since she sometimes felt uncertain about making the correct exits and turns. It was great bonding time for us — I’m sure I unloaded whatever teenage angst I had, and I know that Mom reassured me in the manner only she could. Mom always offered comfort and optimism, no matter how much anxiety or distress you may feel. It will all be fine.

I’m also sure that Mom prayed for me constantly, as she prayed for all of her family. She used to carry prayer books in her purse at all times, and they were often typically worn out from use. We found ourselves regularly looking for replacements at the local Catholic store. She was particularly fond of St. Jude and sought his intercession regularly. I think it actually went back to her childhood, growing up during the Great Depression. I imagine many people sought intercession from the patron saint of lost causes during those years. Mom prayed novenas to St Jude for many intentions. Her Catholic faith was fundamental to her life. Although she never became heavily involved in parish organizations, she would always contribute something for bake sales and other events. She was steadfast in her faith, and it fueled her optimism and helped her drive away discouragement.

If my mother ever felt frustration, I imagine it came later in her life, when comfort, perseverance, and prayer proved to be not quite enough to stave off circumstances. In 2008, my sister Susan was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. Naturally, Mom turned to St. Jude. By his grace and the miraculous efforts of doctors at MD Anderson Cancer Center, she was granted an additional 4 years with her daughter. But Susan passed in 2012, and Mom was heartbroken. Yet she soldiered on, taking care of her husband until his enhanced needs and her own physical limitations made it difficult for her to look after him in her customary manner. After Abe suffered a stroke in November 2019 and ultimately passed in January 2020, Mom moved into assisted living. My hope for her was that she could focus on herself at that point, engage in some self-care while gaining a sense of community, especially in the face of an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. But the truth is that without something or someone there to nurture – her home, her family, and especially her husband, Mom found fulfillment difficult to achieve. Yet she still proclaimed “I’m fine.” She appreciated everything the staff did for her, her nice neighbors, and the setting, but she missed her home, her husband, and the life of service she loved. I am at least grateful that, even though she wasn’t always verbally responsive in her final years, she still appeared to recognize visitors easily. Alzheimer’s affected her, but not to the extent where she lost connection with those she loved. Perhaps St. Jude was looking after her. I’m also grateful that her final days in this life were peaceful, not painful, allowing her to pass with serenity.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the values and characteristics that my mother leaves behind. Quiet dignity. Patience. Fortitude. Perspective. Grace. Compassion. Service. We should all try to live those values in her honor. But now that she’s moved on to her heavenly reward, reunited with her beloved husband and daughter — don’t cry for her today. She’s fine.

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To What Is, not What Might Have Been

Unanswered prayers. Twists of fate. Unfulfilled desires. Foiled plans. Typically, phrases like these evoke negative images for us. Our minds conjure thoughts of “the one that got away,” be it a person, a job, an opportunity, or something entirely different. We kind of enjoy torturing ourselves this way because the idea of “what might have been” can make for a very compelling story. There are movies, books, and songs written in lamentation about what was lost. It’s also a common storytelling trope to have the protagonist revisit the missed opportunity years later.

But isn’t that all just imagination? That’s literally what “wishful thinking” is. We concoct our own little story about what could have happened if circumstances had unfolded differently, and it just so happens that >gasp< it would have been SO wonderful, if only… Today I say: Hogwash. Fiddlesticks. Malarkey. Poppycock. Baloney. [Insert your favorite old-timey dismissive phrase here.] Twists of fate are a part of life, whether you believe God has a hand in what happens to you or not. That’s why there’s an adage that “if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” We’re like kids at Christmas. Make our list of gifts, talk to Santa, hint to our parents, and cross our fingers that we’ll get what we want. And remember, we also make choices all the time, every day. And sometimes a single choice has a significant effect, creating a chain of proverbial dominos that fall to produce our circumstances – sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Remember, too, that we are also often affected by other people’s choices, so even when we’ve planned and prepared and prayed and chosen wisely – some other choice, some other circumstance, some other event impacts us and throws off our proverbial path. And while it may seem crushing to us in the moment, I’m here to tell you it’s often for the best.

Last week, I wrote about the choice I made with my wife to marry each other 31 years ago. It’s a choice that feeds me positively each day, but a mere 5-6 years earlier, things could have been different. I had dated a young lady for a couple of years going back to high school. We broke up after she left for college, but one summer we reconnected and began to get kind of serious, even discussing whether we might be interested in marrying. Then she went back to school and met someone else – the man who would ultimately become her husband. (They’ve been happily married for 35 years.) After that second breakup, I immersed myself in school, embarking on my first semester since high school where I made straight A’s. I also worked a lot, did some traveling, and eventually met my future wife. Time for a pop culture reference – Ted Lasso: “It may not work out how you think it will or how you hope it does. But believe me, it will all work out, exactly as it’s supposed to.” And for both myself and my old girlfriend from high school, it absolutely did.

Fast forward to 2025, when I finally completed the steps need to retire from K-12 public education. I wrote about how I had actually applied for one more administrative role in a nearby district, and I honestly believe I was on the cusp of getting hired. Then I received the dreaded “we’ve selected a different candidate e-mail.” Curses! Foiled again! Or was I? Ironically, I read that e-mail on my phone in a medical center waiting room while my wife underwent a scan for breast cancer tissue. That test eventually came back positive for “cancerous material” — not really cells, more like particles. So she had to undergo more tests and a surgical procedure, along with follow-up appointments. Guess who was by her side every minute? This guy…without ever having to give a thought to whatever work I was missing or would have to catch up on at my new job. I truly consider it a blessing that I could have zero other concerns during that time. Just her. And shortly after that situation was resolved, along came a part-time opening working in the office at my church parish. So instead of more potentially soul-crushing work in education, I landed in a calmer job that supplements my retirement income while allowing me time and flexibility to continue to build my voiceover career. The plan didn’t go off the rails; it just shifted to some different rails that, in the end, have followed a better path.

See, I’ve already had career plans go off-kilter in the past, and learned hard lessons from trying to “reset the plan.” It actually wasn’t all that long ago – a mere 8 years. I was working in Mansfield ISD at the time, under Dr. Teresa Stegall’s leadership in the Department of Research, Assessment, and Accountability. I’ve spoken fondly of Dr. Stegall’s leadership before. Right around this time in 2018, she retired from public education, receiving a well-deserved fond farewell from many in the district. She had previously informed me that she hoped for me to take over as Director of the department and had involved me in several tasks in preparation for the role. I had worked with central administrators and principals on a variety of projects, and I felt poised to step into the job. Trouble is, in the month after her retirement, the rest of us in the department heard nothing about the future – the Director position was never posted, and we were simply carrying on without a director. We heard rumors, but nothing definitive. Until the last Friday of February 2018, when Dr. Stegall’s supervisor met with us to inform us that the district was not, in fact, replacing her as Director. They were instead dissolving the position, using the money from that salary for other purposes, and placing our department under the supervision of a different Director in central administration. What’s more, we were charged with revising our duties to absorb the tasks of the Director, AND we had to take the department’s budget and devise our plan for the 2018-19 school year. Rug, yanked. Gut, punched. What the heck, I’ll even go there: Nuts, kicked. My plan had been to transition into a promotion, ramp up the VO career a little more, then retire from MISD – the only district where I had ever worked – after 30-35 years, then move into VO full-time. Instead, throughout my 25th year in the district, I found myself a little overworked, a little bitter, and a little bit off the rails.

So when I tried to regain control of the plan by bolting for Birdville ISD in the Spring of 2019, my hope was to get back onto my rails, albeit elsewhere. But it was a brutally failed effort that I’ve talked about briefly before. I don’t really want to relive it or recount details of how awful it was; it was mainly a year I’d like to forget. I suppose the most powerful thing I could say is that, when the COVID pandemic shut us down in March 2020, I was actually a little relieved. For the final six weeks of that year, I didn’t have to make the drive to Haltom City each day for a job that was slowly driving me insane. Work-from-home agreed with me, even if I had to conduct a job search for 2019-20 via Zoom. And even then, after my attempt at restoring the rails to a previous career path flamed out, there was yet another twist of fate that delivered me to Grand Prairie High School, working with a group of people who were mostly doing their absolute best to serve a student population that needed it. I made many lifelong friends there and encountered colleagues who I admired greatly. I learned from them, and I was able to teach them some things while keeping them entertained; and keeping them sane amidst the insanity that TEA and the district expected me to bring them as the testing coordinator. That is, until I finally had the wherewithal to bring my education career to a close and pursue voiceover full-time.

Do I regret my choice to leave Mansfield for Birdville? Not really. Given the events of February 2018, chances are that there might have been more potential gut punches along the way. The precedent had been set, and staying there could have sent a message that I would simply solider on, regardless of the circumstances. I’ve said before – central administration in education can be a little soul-crushing. That’s the nature of it. One of my colleagues in that department had a Ph.D in Statistics, and there’s a good chance that he might’ve been selected over me for the Director position. A choice to remain in MISD could have definitely produced some other twist, possibly worse than what I had already experienced. That year of misery in Birdville was at least instructive. I learned from it, as we often do from a painful experience. And just like Ted Lasso said, it did work out exactly as it was supposed to. I’ll take the exploits that I had and the friends I made at GP, thank you very much. And I’ll take the time supporting my wife instead of another central office job, as well. I have landed where I wanted to be – escaped from what had become an increasingly insane and stressful world of education, engaged more fully in the world of voiceover, and most of all, available more completely to my wife and family. Unanswered prayers? No, just different answers than I expected. Foiled plans? No, just slightly altered plans. Unfulfilled desires? No, As the great Sheryl Crow sang: “It’s not getting what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.” As it turns out, what I’ve got IS what I wanted. The path to get there is just not what I envisioned at one time.

The path can vary for many of us. I have two friends who have had similar experiences recently, where their intended professional plans have been altered by circumstances. One of them is currently teaching in New Mexico and had actually interviewed for the same position in the DFW area twice, finishing second both times. His current situation in NM isn’t the greatest, but it’s also not the worst, so his goal is simply to carve a different path back to DFW, and possibly back to New Mexico another time. Meanwhile, one of my friends from GPHS was passed over for that campus’ Principal position when it was open in 2024. She’s having to toil at another campus – again, not the greatest job – but her personal life has thrived even though she’s not where she wants to be professionally, and those personal developments wouldn’t have been possible at all if she was Principal of a 6A high school. There’s still plenty of time for her to achieve her professional goals. Again, it’s just going to be a different path, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We all live and learn along the way, carrying whatever knowledge, experience, and growth that are gained.

In the world of voiceover, “rejection” is a natural part of the process, a way of life. My friends in the VO world are used to hearing “No” in the face of grand plans. Really, they’re prepared for “No” after every audition. Except that it’s not necessarily “No,” it’s just “Not Right Now,” as they say. Just because someone else is booked for a given VO job doesn’t mean you weren’t good, or worthy; it just means that whoever made the casting decision selected a different voice for this project, for a reason that could be very specific or very ambiguous. And that’s really the point of this post: Unanswered prayers, unfulfilled desires, twists of fate, foiled plans don’t necessarily reflect on us as individuals. They don’t mean we’re not valuable as people, or professionals, or artists. They just mean that this isn’t the right match, the right time or place, the right circumstances. Not Right Now. But we keep at it, working toward what we seek. Enjoy the journey. Learn what you can. Value the good things and the good times. Seek, and you will find. Right Now will eventually come along, and What Is will outshine What Might Have Been.

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Gotta Have Soul, Mate

This week’s post coincides with what I consider one of the 3 most important times of the year. You might think, “He’s talking about the resolve to maintain your New Year’s Resolutions,” based on one of my previous posts. Or perhaps you suspect it includes my thoughts on Valentine’s Day. But more important to me than literally any Valentine’s celebration is the anniversary of the wedding of myself and my better half on this date, January 28. Today we will celebrate the completion of 31 years or marriage.

“Awwww,” you might say. And that’s fine, although I am definitely not a person of extraordinary sentiment. Sure, my wife and I love each other deeply, but if anything, we are extraordinarily private about it. Anyone expecting to see PDA from the two of us will be sorely disappointed. What you will see from us, more than anything, is a personal rapport that we share. Plainly put, we get along at a fascinating level. Not all the time, but more than enough. We use the phrase “hashtag married” (#married) way more than we have ever expected, so much that we will literally each hold out two fingers toward each other to create the hashtag symbol. Maybe it’s cute; I don’t know. In some ways, I consider it akin to a pair of Mandalorians saying “This Is The Way.” Our little ritual.

Our road to such rituals has been interesting, but it’s not like we overcame any epic hurdles to get here. I was born in El Paso, Texas (Native Texan, baby!) and moved to Arlington shortly after my 3rd birthday. She was born on Long Island, New York, moved to the Houston area as a child, then came to Arlington in her early teen years, a little more than a decade after I arrived. We actually lived within 5 minutes of each other and even went to the same high school, but because I was 3 years older than she was, we never attended the same school campus through grade 12. Our high school only had Grades 10-12 under one roof at the time, and junior high was Grades 7-9. We actually met once when I was a freshman at UT-Arlington, introduced to each other by the girl I was dating at the time. But it wasn’t until I was a senior at UTA and she was a freshman that we started dating, connecting as members of the “band without football,” the UTA Marching Band. Some people might think we dated too long, because it took 4 years, 5 months, and 4 days for me to propose. That may seem like an eternity to some, but I think we both wanted to have a decent foothold as real human adults with careers and a mild sense of independence before we crossed the threshold of living life together.

Having heard that story, and if you observe our endearing rapport (truly, we are kind of cute together), you might even say, “Gosh, you two are real soulmates.” But here’s the thing: I don’t subscribe to the traditional notion of soulmates. The whole concept of “someone’s lobster” from Friends is purely fictional, IMO. I am very much an empirical guy. Even though I didn’t stick with math as a major in college (it was my initial choice), I’m definitely someone who believes in the power of math to bind the world together. (Shoutout once again to Pythagoras.) Numbers don’t lie. And the numbers say that the concept of one singular soulmate for each human simply cannot work. There are currently over 8 billion people on Earth. Even back in 1989, the year that my wife and I started dating, there were just over 5 billion people. With that kind of astronomical number, the notion that there was a single individual destined for me – someone who was of the opposite sex and heterosexual like myself, age appropriate, with similar interests, upbringing, and values – I mean, come on. Oh, and she happened to live incredibly close to where my family had moved 18 years earlier, and we even attended the same church even though we didn’t know it yet. That just doesn’t work, mathematically speaking. If there was such a person, probability at least suggests that this person might not live nearby – heck, she might live in another country across the globe and speak an entirely different language. 

So for me, the likelihood that there was one, true soulmate who I could ultimately marry was low. Incredibly low. Given the rate of divorce in the United States, the likelihood that most of the people getting married on January 28, 1995 – or literally every other date since then – are soulmates, is also shockingly low. Even the families of myself and my wife suggest this. I have four siblings — one has been married and divorced, the other three married people who were, themselves, previously married and divorced. My wife has three siblings, one of whom has been married and divorced and is currently married to a man who was also previously married and divorced. Another sibling is unmarried, and the third has been married to the same woman for 15 years now (first time for both there – so there’s one besides us). The point is, seeking and finding “your one true soulmate” is, by and large, an exercise in futility, mathematically speaking. At the most, if soulmates exist, then it would be more likely for each person on the planet to have multiple potential soulmates walking among us, and the trick, if there is one, is to find each other and offer enough effort and flexibility in our lives to become actual soulmates. This person doesn’t have to be your destiny, fated strictly for you, to make it possible to be with them. Sometimes you just have to step up and ask her out, then if she is compatible for you, put in the work with her to make the relationship flourish and grow.

But here is the bottom line, on this day of our 31st Wedding Anniversary: Regarding my own empirical biases and mathematical thinking, it really doesn’t matter. Is my wife the single, true soulmate who was created just for me? My sole soulmate, if you want to get punny? Who cares? I found her, and she found me. We fell in love, got married, and built a life together of which I am incredibly proud and for which I am incredibly grateful. That life has never been perfect – and neither are we – but we’ve been perfect for each other, and that’s really all that matters. If you read my post earlier in January, referencing Pythagoras’ quote, “Choices are the hinges of destiny,” then you can understand the critical effects of our choice on this date 31 years ago. That choice established our destiny together. It changed us, focused us. I firmly believe it’s made us better as individual people. We can share our love of sports, movies, music and musical theater, art, and animals, among other things. We can endlessly quote Grosse Pointe Blank without missing a beat. As two people who are honestly fairly cynical about Valentine’s Day, we even get to ignore it by celebrating our wedding anniversary two weeks earlier instead. That’s our choice, together.

I’m reminded of a favorite movie of ours, The Family Man, and its best line of dialogue:

“I love you, and that’s more important than our address. I choose us.”

If you’re familiar with that movie, then you also know the implications of the fateful choice – that it might come with some perceived limitations. We may give up certain things in terms of career, living arrangements, and perhaps material wealth when we prioritize relationships. But that’s actually the whole point of the movie, and of married life itself: Whatever “could have been” matters not to me; what matters is what we have, who I am as a result, and what is. Maybe my life is different with her than it would have been without her. I don’t know, but more importantly, I’m really not interested in knowing. Our married life, our existence as a family, are what matter most. Yes, there are challenges. There are times when one or the other of us is infuriating to the other. There are disagreements. But that’s part of being human, part of “For Better, For Worse,” isn’t it? And for us, “For Better” happens much more often. The challenges are minimal in the grand scheme of things. How about another pop culture reference, this time from the great Leslie Higgins on Ted Lasso: “If you’re with the right person, even the hard times are easy.”

When it’s all said and done, there is one person whose hand I want to hold during a concert, a musical, a walk in the park, or anyplace else. There is one face I want to see before I go to bed at night and first thing each morning. A face that I can always pick out in a crowd. There is one person with whom I always want to share the events of my day, my fears, my dreams, my very life. At the same time, I want her to have her own life and share it with me. Our lives don’t have to revolve around each other – she certainly doesn’t exist solely to serve me and our family, which is how I’ve come to view my own mother’s life. (That’s another topic I’ll have to unpack later.) But our lives create harmony together in a way that enhances each of us as individuals and feeds our family in a very beautiful and fulfilling way. Does that make us soulmates? I don’t know. I don’t care. What I do know is: I choose us. Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.

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Refurbishing My Hinges of Destiny

If the phrase “Hinges of Destiny” in the title of this post sounds familiar, that’s because it refers to a quote attributed to Pythagoras: “Choices are the hinges of destiny.” Most of us know the name Pythagoras because we learned the Pythagorean Theorem in geometry class. And Pythagoras is widely considered the “Father of Mathematics” (or the “Father of Numbers”) because he’s credited as the first person to view mathematics as a broader discipline, connecting numbers to philosophy, music, and even the universe. People relate Pythagoras to math, but he was really a philosopher above all, so what better person to quote in a catch-all blog called “On the Brink of Instruction?”

Now, I do not claim to be an authority on Pythagoras or Pythagoreanism, but the multi-disciplinary nature of his views and teachings are fascinating to me, especially as someone who taught economics for two decades. Anyone who’s taken high school economics knows that it is typically A) a requirement for graduation and B) not considered the most interesting class, on its face. Economics is often called “the dismal science” for a reason. So as an instructor, my goal was always to connect the study of economics to the broader “real” world, to make it more relatable for my students. I would always start each semester framing the study of economics as, truly, the study of choices. People take limited resources – the textbook factors of production being land, labor, capital, and entrepreneurship, along with others such as time, talent, and energy – and we figure out how to use them in the most productive and efficient possible way to achieve the best possible outcome. My class would obviously layer in the standard terms and concepts of the economics curriculum, since that’s the course, but not before we considered more philosophical ideas about choices affected by given constraints. “What do you want to do with the next minute of your life? The next hour? The next day? Week, Month, Year, Decade?” The fundamental core of the course was that economics is the study of how and why we make choices, and what happens as a result – the consequences of our choices, which ultimately produce our circumstances. That was the underlying framework.

Choices are proverbial building blocks for our lives, determining not just our circumstances but also our personalities and our character. Plus, choices also happen to be excellent fodder for memorable quotes and memes in pop culture. I’m a particular fan of “He chose…poorly. You have chosen wisely,” from Indiana Jones and the the Last Crusade. The importance of choices is a perfect continuation of my thoughts in my last post on the nature of New Year’s resolutions. And given the sentiments I’ve expressed in still another post about how my overall goal at this stage of life is mainly to be the best version of myself that I can be, some thoughts on choices would be a great starting point.

I’m not going to pretend to be an authority on humanity’s choices, behavior, psychology, or any connection among the three. There are a myriad of resources available in libraries and on the internet that provide exhaustive analysis. There are also therapeutic resources for those who need them to address their own personal choices. I can only speak to my own experiences, thoughts, and ideas regarding my efforts at resolutions in service to my personal goals for the year in terms of my voiceover career, my relationships, my health, my well-being, my daily life, and even my place in the world, lofty as that might sound. Those efforts are framed by a variety of things, including my faith, my family and friends, my personal history, my existing knowledge about psychology and behavioral adjustments, my influences, and really, my perspective of who I am now and who I want to be in the future. So this post offers personal musings that I hope might be useful to the reader, as opposed to some kind of help guide rooted in science and research.

With that in mind, I am beginning 2026 by carefully considering each day, perhaps even each hour, and determining how I want to spend it. Even now, as I write this post, I have decided that I’m spending the next X minutes writing, then I will stop and proceed to another task that needs to be done. Unless, of course, I get “on a roll,” and I need to make an adjustment to whatever plan I might have in real time. The process of resolution, and carrying it out – behavior modification, in a sense – is difficult because it’s often fluid. We wake up each day with the notion of “Today I’m going to…,” but perhaps something alters the plan. Maybe we wake up later than we intended. Maybe we devote more time than intended to a particular task, reducing the available time for other tasks. Maybe an emergency arises. Maybe we get sick. Maybe we just feel like doing something else instead of what we planned to do.

The constant process of adjustment in the face of our proverbial plans is really at the core of whether or not we will make the appropriate choice at the time we need to make it. And it truly is a constant process. What time will I wake up? How do I respond if my spouse wakes up in a bad mood? How do I react if I wake up in a bad mood – what do I do to correct it? What’s the first thing I will do today? Should I change lanes here, or there? How do I respond when another driver cuts me off? How do I react if a person at the store is rude? How do I address it if the restaurant gets my order wrong? What do I do if the grocery store is out of the item I intended to buy? Where do I go if I need help for an unexpected problem? Do I make this purchase? Do I really need that item? Do I need to eat more or less of this kind of food? Should I take the time to watch this TV show? What happens if I just take a few minutes to play that game on my phone? What about that book I want to read? In a free society that allows the individual to choose, questions like these can actually become overwhelming. I think it’s the main reason why so many New Year’s resolutions fail – we have good intentions, we’d really like to change, but when that important moment arrives and we need to choose restraint, or kindness, or exercise, or self-care, or remorse, or fruits & vegetables, or a little extra work, we lack impulse control. Or we revert to old habits. Or we embrace comfort and familiarity instead of the change we claim to seek.

Assuming we truly want to change and truly seek new goals for ourselves, then it is in those moments that making new choices, different choices, is the most critical. And as you might expect, it really takes thought, conscious consideration, and yes, work to make it happen. I used to teach drum major camps – every summer for 16 years. Every camp included leadership as part of the curriculum, which usually meant extensive discussion about how the students could influence and inspire their band members. And at every camp, without fail, we heard the question, “How can I help my band be more disciplined?” My answer typically followed the same theme: Discipline Is Habit. You can walk out of this camp saying you want your band to be more disciplined, but doing so will not magically give you a more disciplined band on Day 1 of band camp. And Day 1 of band camp won’t be nearly enough. You will have to plan on how to approach every rehearsal, every football game, and every performance, and you will have to follow through on that plan every time. The less disciplined your band has been in the past, the harder it will be – the harder you will have to work, the more effort you’ll have to expend, the longer it will take. The efforts will have to continue well past the heat of August. It will likely be hardest in mid-September, when it’s still kind of hot outside, you haven’t fully learned your show yet, and there hasn’t yet been a meaningful performance. That’s when you’re most likely to see a backslide into old, undisciplined, unproductive habits. And that’s when it is most critical to maintain your efforts toward your new choices, your new habits, your new goals. You may not realize that you’ve actually become “more disciplined” until months after deciding on it as a goal. And you will only achieve it through day-to-day effort over time.

So it goes with New Year’s resolutions. The old mantra of “21-day to create a habit” is a myth. Psychology researchers at University College of London did a study in 2009 that found, on average, it takes 66 days to establish new habits – although it can vary, depending on how simple or complex the habit is. You could theoretically establish a simple habit within the old 21-day timeframe, but something more involved might take over 250 days, so you’d better be ready to spend the better part of the next year putting in the work. That work will involve choices – intentional choices – over and over, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. Those choices will eventually turn into habits. Those habits might eventually become rituals, in a sense. And so long as those rituals lead us toward who we seek to be, then we know our efforts have been productive. But we won’t know it until the weather is much warmer. The conventional wisdom Is that most resolutions are abandoned by the second Friday of the year. Two Fridays! I can’t decide whether to call that pathetic or disheartening.

But that’s really what it comes down to, and I would like to think Pythagoras himself would appreciate it: Change Takes Work. Additionally, change takes time; it takes persistence. It’s the combination of persistent work over time that really leads to success, or the lack of it produces failure. It really leaves no room for excuses. No attempts to justify falling into old habits. No telling ourselves “I’ll get back to it again” when it’s convenient. Convenience, too often, is the mortal enemy of change. Persistence, meanwhile, is change’s best friend. I’m reminded of Jerry Seinfeld’s story about his own habits as an aspiring comedian. It took a simple wall calendar and a marker. His goal every day was just to write a joke; one joke per day. Once he wrote a joke, he marked a big X over that day on the calendar. Eventually, he had developed a chain of Xs on the calendar. The goal over time was, Don’t Break the Chain. That’s it. Nothing about outcomes. Nothing about the type or nature of the joke. Not even anything about how funny the jokes were. Just one joke per day, mark the X, do it every day. Does the rest “take care of itself?” Yes and No – there are obviously other aspects of comedy that Seinfeld worked on – delivery, timing, wording, etc. But the fundamental building block of his comedy career rested on making the conscious choice of committing to the work – writing one joke per day, until it became a chain, a habit, a ritual that fed his ultimate goal as a performer.

Personally, I will admit that I have established some lofty goals for myself in 2026, both in my voiceover career and as a person. I just might be more driven than ever about my 2026 resolutions, primarily because I’m no longer beholden to the K-12 public education career that had begun to weigh me down for several years. I have too often, in years past, used constraint, not convenience, as my excuse for abandoning my goals – my work in education got in the way then, but no more. I now get to pursue a career that offers me more control. I’m lucky that the constraints are now released, so I really believe the only things likely to hold me back are my own faults – laziness, apathy, excuses, comfort, bad habits. My limitations would be primarily self-imposed, so I intend to get out of my own way, get off the proverbial bench, and get after what I seek. Clean up and open my own proverbial “hinges of destiny,” as it were. I sincerely hope the people I can positively impact along the way will benefit from it. For you, friends, my wish is minimal constraints on your own goals, as well as maximum effort and energy toward your own pursuits. Choose wisely.

Speaking of new choices in 2026, I’m choosing to alter how I approach my blog, On the Brink of Instruction. I began back in August 2025 with weekly posts on either Tuesday or Wednesday. Going forward in 2026 and beyond, I will only offer new posts every other week. During the intervening weeks, I will post an audio version of the previous week’s post. After all, as a professional voiceover talent, it makes sense for me to take time to showcase my thoughts in my own voice. I will also be working on adding audio versions of my 2025 posts the best I can. Perhaps this new approach may offer new insight into just how warped and tortured my psyche became after 3 decades in education, and even new hopes for my attempts to claw my way back to actual humanity. OK, maybe that’s dramatic. But you get the idea.

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Bring on the Next One

Today is New Year’s Eve, and the second of my Top 3 favorite holidays is the magical combination of New Year’s Eve / New Year’s Day. I wrote back in November about the first one – Thanksgiving. And I will write about the third of my Top 3 when it arrives in 2026. But for today, I have to say I love me some New Year.

No doubt, there are some who love NYE for the booze, the partying, the dancing, the Ball Drop, the confetti and fireworks, and all the other ceremony that goes with the night. And I guess there’s nothing wrong with it, if it’s your thing. Personally, I’ve never been a huge party guy, nor a heavy drinker. Growing up, I typically watched New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with the great Dick Clark. Watch the Ball Drop, then stay up an extra hour until midnight officially occurs in the Central time zone and call it a year. As I got older, I celebrated at small gatherings at friends’ homes, but never attended the large parties you hear about.

Then on December 31, 1994, my wife (at the time, my fiancée) and I went to a NYE party at a hotel in Dallas just before we married in January 1995. It was cool – we were young and obviously excited as we rang in the year of our impending marriage in a large gathering. It was something neither of us had ever done before. In ensuing years, we attended big NYE parties a few more times, including overnight hotel stays and breakfast the next morning. Those were fun times for a newly married couple, but we’ve outgrown them. These days, with our kids (who are quintessential home-bodies), New Year’s Eve consists of a quiet night at home. We compile some finger foods and munch away while watching a movie, then turn on one of the national NYE broadcasts from New York to see coverage of the Ball Drop, which happens at 11:00pm local time. In fact, anymore we actually go to bed right afterward and don’t even stay up until midnight. The big countdown in Dallas-Fort Worth just pales in comparison to what happens in New York, so rather than stay up for an anti-climax, we just call it a year early and get that hour of sleep. Some may call us boring; I consider us smart.

We have toyed with the idea of taking a bucket-list trip to New York specifically for NYE. There are hotels in Times Square with rooftop views of the Ball Drop, and we would definitely opt for something like that instead of standing all day with 500,000 of our closest friends, hoping we don’t have to go to the bathroom too often. Sure, those hotels have to be booked years in advance, with a minimum 5-night stay at a premium price. But it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and someday we might actually do it.

All reminiscing and fantasizing aside, my love for New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day comes down to two fundamental reasons. First, it’s still technically Christmas, only less stressful. See, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with Christmas Day. It’s awesome as a central holiday in the year, and there is nothing quite like singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful” at Midnight Mass. I tear up literally every time. I also enjoy many things about the Holiday Season – Christmas music, lights, decorations, movies, almost all of it. But what drives me insane about Christmas is simply “the rush” during the days leading up to December 25. The rush to buy things. The rush to do things, like make this dish for that gathering, or go to this other event because it’s a tradition. The rush is always tiring, and too often it’s easy to sacrifice quality for volume. And before you know it, it’s Christmas Day, and by the night of December 25, you’re just tired. Plus there’s a major letdown because it’s over until next year, when we’ll rush, rush, rush again in hopes of buying, getting, and doing it all in preparation for another December 25.

Except Christmas isn’t actually over yet, and it took me many years to truly appreciate that. After all, there are twelve days of Christmas, right? That leads to the Epiphany and the arrival of the Three Kings. In the Catholic Church, we officially celebrate Christmastide until the Baptism of the Lord a week later. And hardcore traditionalists may even celebrate Christmas until Candlemas on February 2 and the Presentation of the Lord. Now that is some serious Christmas celebration, along with perhaps a great excuse why you still have lights on your house.

Either way, I have always enjoyed the celebration of the New Year because it’s Christmas without the proverbial baggage. You still get to enjoy the decorations, the music, the free time, and the celebration, just without all the pressure. I cannot believe that there are people who actually complain that they forget what day of the week it is between December 25 and December 31. That’s the beauty of it! The freedom to relax and simply enjoy is rare and precious. Forgetting the day of the week is affirmation that you’re experiencing such freedom.

Beyond the extension of the Christmas season, I appreciate the New Year celebration secondly because it commemorates conclusion and commencement. I’ve always been fascinated by this phenomenon. Everything has a beginning and an end – seasons, years, life itself. There’s an inherent beauty in it. Think about it: Everyone loves Opening Day of the baseball season, a beginning. Millions watch the Super Bowl, an ending. We tune into the season finale or series finale of our favorite shows.  We’re excited about the beginning of a particular season, and we have bittersweet feelings at its conclusion – yet we also cherish the memories and lessons of the experience. We rejoice when babies are born, and when someone dies, we honor their memory at least one more time as we grieve. These are all beautiful things.

I suspect my own admiration for beginnings and endings could be why I gravitated toward education as a career. It’s certainly something I enjoyed about it. The first day of school is exciting. The last day of school, even more so. Everybody is happy on graduation day. Surely one of the greatest things about a school year is that it begins and ends, and the rhythm of that process is fulfilling. I also think, for a lot of people, the never-ending quality of a job outside of education is one of the things that makes it awful. Some jobs never seem to have an end. And let’s face it, the term “fiscal year,” and the concept of it, is hardly exciting or fulfilling for the average worker.

But the calendar year? You almost have to love it. I do. I love how the end of a given year brings retrospectives – about the events of the past 12 months, the lives that were lost, the lives that began, and the lives that changed, grew, and prospered. For me, 2025 brought significant changes – I’ve already outlined many of those in a previous post. I lost a couple of friends this year – one suddenly, one after an extended illness. But I’ve also met new friends and strengthened connections to old ones. I don’t feel the need to detail everything or offer a lot of personal description. The point of this post is that, for all of us, the chance to close the metaphorical book, the ability to reflect on it all at this time of year is, in a word, wonderful.

Also wonderful? Hope for the coming year. But I’m not necessarily talking about typical New Year’s Resolutions. Too often, those resolutions are outcome based – “I’m going to lose 20 pounds,” “I’m going to make more money,” etc. Outcome-based goals often sound nice, but they’re actually kind of a trap. The truth is that you and I have no idea what outcome we can achieve, nor do we know specifically how we’ll get there, or even if we will. Outcomes are affected by many factors over which we have zero control. I found outcome-driven goals to be a complete waste of time in my education career because of the lack of control over the student population. Outcomes are every bit as useless when developing New Year’s Resolutions. 

But what is useful in setting goals is the practice of deciding to adjust that which we can control. In deciding New Year’s Resolutions, we absolutely know which behaviors we can correct, or at least adjust, going forward. I have a personal, modest list of New Year’s Resolutions. Although I’m not going to delineate those in this space – because you, the reader, probably don’t care that much about what I plan to work on in 2026 – I can definitely say that they will be things over which I have direct influence. And as such, adjusting these behaviors should directly impact me.

What’s the most important aspect of these resolutions? They’re daily. Sure, maybe you want to achieve a certain milestone by the midpoint of the year, June 30, but the real journey to get there begins on January 1. And continues on January 2, January 3, and so on until you finally reach June 30 and beyond. That’s the real challenge – crafting New Year’s Resolutions that allow you to wake up each morning and reiterate, “Today I’m going to…,” and more importantly, do it. It takes patience. It takes time. It takes persistence. Whatever the resolution, it takes the will to avoid whatever behavior you’re leaving behind and replacing it with whatever behavior you seek to pursue, to reinforce, to feed. And what you feed, grows.

The daily nature of effective New Year’s Resolutions is, honestly, what makes them a little ironic, and why so many people establish ineffective resolutions. We experience a huge build-up to the Holiday Season, it culminates with New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, and then we embark on the coming year. And we’ll do it all again in just under 12 months. So it’s natural that the plans we make for each year are grand, not minor and routine. Yet the grandeur is precisely what makes them fruitless. It’s like pretending you can eat a giant meal in just a few minutes, thinking you can read a long book in the next hour, attempting to writing a term paper in one afternoon, or cramming for a final exam when you’ve skipped class all semester. It’s also probably why, in recent years, I lament to my wife that everybody makes a huge deal out of “ringing in the new year,” but they don’t think anything of it when the clock strikes midnight on a random Tuesday in August. Obviously, each new year can feel like a gift, but why don’t we treat each day with the same gratitude?

And yet, despite the irony, I really love the sentiment of closure and renewal that each New Year’s celebration brings. Not because the vast majority of people will make extravagant plans for the coming year that they will abandon before the end of February, but because it serves as an excellent marker in life. That marker is a perfect point for cataloging where the last 365 days went right and wrong, then deciding the daily habits to begin, re-establish, or reinforce for the coming 365 days. Whatever your plans for 2026, I wish you a safe, fun New Year’s Eve, and as The Christmas Waltz says, “May your New Year dreams come true.” Here’s hoping you’re able to persist peacefully and productively in making them happen.

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Little Things That Matter

Next Tuesday 12/23 will be Festivus 2025 for those who celebrate, and as a longtime Seinfeld fan with a blog, I will definitely be engaging in the Airing of Grievances that day. But lest I seem like a typical curmudgeon who does nothing but grouse and complain in my blog, I want to use the space this week to express appreciation for lots of little things in the world. It’s not really a personal gratitude post like I made at Thanksgiving; this post is devoted to random good things I observe at times (and yes, I do manage to notice lots of cool things at least as much as I perceive idiocy). And it’s designed to acknowledge the benefit of such things.

Some of the items in this post may, no doubt, elicit cynical and/or negatives responses from some readers. That says more about the reader’s experience than anything else. Remember that I’m writing from the perspective of my own experience, mainly over the past year, but often over the course of several years. So if your experience is different, feel free to address it in your own Festivus Grievances next week.

Let’s dive right in—

Supportive Parents of School-Age Children: This thought actually originated in the fall when I was announcing marching band shows and witnessing multitudes of parents assisting in the parking lot and on the field. A typical marching band production costing thousands of dollars and involving hundreds of students could not happen without the service of these parents, and I wanted to acknowledge that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that in every aspect of education, supportive parents are crucial. Much like with problem students, educators often end up devoting way too much time to dealing with problem parents – the ones who complain to the coach that their child isn’t playing enough, isn’t first chair, doesn’t make 100s on every assignment…you know the type. It’s time we acknowledge that we see the supportive parents, and we appreciate them. The parents who work with their children to reinforce good behaviors, to improve academic habits, and to practice more. The parents who always bring their children early to school and to events, and who are there on-time ready to take them home at the end. The parents who attend every game, every show, every performance, every concert, not to complain to the refs or the coaches, not to criticize the performance, but to cheer their child’s team, win or lose, to applaud the performance regardless of minor mistakes. The parents who take care of other children who need it. The parents who devote their time and energy to this school or this program because their child loves participating, and they want to help make it a good experience. These parents need to be seen and credited, and even though they can never be shown enough appreciation, they must know that there are countless teachers, coaches, directors, and other adults who value them.

City Services: I live in Arlington, Texas, and have since 1971. The city’s population has more than quadrupled in my lifetime. As much as people will recognize my hometown as the home of the Dallas Cowboys and Texas Rangers, or the home of Six Flags Over Texas, or the “Entertainment Capital of Texas,” or “The American Dream City,” there are factions that criticize Arlington for being too big now, or for not having enough culture, or a variety of other perceived shortcomings. And I have personally experienced times when I have been unhappy with street conditions and other aspects of the city. But in the end, what I’ve grown to appreciate about Arlington are the multitude of city services available here that are top-notch. For one, this city has an amazing selection of parks. I’ve become an avid walker and runner – typically 2+ miles of one or the other each morning – and I am fortunate that this city has at least a half-dozen parks accessible to me with excellent trails to pursue, all within a 10-minute drive from my house. Additionally, although we haven’t needed them this year (thankfully), we have had need of the Arlington Police and Fire Departments in years past, and they have also been amazing in our experience. My oldest son, who has autism, has a job for which he needs transportation, and we’re able to use Arlington’s Handitran service for him on roughly 95% of his work days. It’s safe, reliable, and cost-effective transportation for him. We’re grateful that it easily allows him to get to work, and it also gives him a level of independence rather than relying on his parents all the time. Speaking of transportation, I had occasion to ride the Trinity Railway Express into downtown Dallas recently for a voiceover event. TRE connects to the DART railway system in Dallas, and again – safe, reliable, cost-effective transportation. The one thing I still wonder about with Arlington is why we don’t have public transportation, and why we haven’t gotten connected to DART. It seems rather short-sighted to me that Arlington voters have denied access to service like this in the past, and I’m frankly disappointed that there are municipalities to the east who are actually considering abandoning DART. As someone who loves to visit New York, and who has no problem navigating that area’s subways and trains, I find the reliance on constant automobile transportation in Dallas-Fort Worth to be exhausting at times. So I would hope that any suburbs that break from DART pursue a different option. And I think it’s worth pursuing light rail as a city or even statewide service instead of just building another tollroad. Either way, I think Arlington’s city services are worth acknowledging, and I appreciate them daily.

Competent, Courteous Drivers: Because of the lack of public transportation options in my area, I find myself driving most of the time, as do most of the residents of the DFW area (and most of Texas, for that matter). And while it is proverbial low-hanging fruit to complain about clueless drivers (I will include a very specific grievance next week) all the time, I want to acknowledge the competent, courteous drivers, instead, in this space today. And I think there are actually more of them out there than we think. Again, we devote our energy to the problems without appreciating the level of quality actually on the road. Another recent experience: I also had to travel to downtown Dallas twice by car recently, and both times, I exited the city via the Woodall Rogers Freeway to I-35E. Anyone familiar with that area knows that the right lane entering the freeway also serves as the exit for traffic headed from I-35E to the Dallas North Tollway. So there’s a stretch of road with lots of merging – drivers like me moving one lane to the left while other drivers move one lane to the right. Let me tell you this: few things on any road are better than a dependable merging experience, where drivers are signaling, paying attention, matching speeds, and switching lanes simultaneously so that each gets where they need to be smoothly and safely. I experienced this on two consecutive days in Dallas, and both times, I waved to the drivers switching places with me to thank them. I hope they saw and appreciated this little thing as much as I did. I experience this frequently on I-20 in Arlington, as well, between Cooper St and Matlock Rd. There are far more courteous, competent drivers in those areas than there are bad ones. Sure, the bad ones going too fast and using lots of lanes draw our attention, but the good drivers need to greet each other more in solidarity. We need less honking, yelling, road rage, and all that entails on the road. We need more positive communication among the drivers for jobs well-done. Texas still has signs that say “Drive Friendly,” and we really should take more time to wave and acknowledge each other when drivers are doing things correctly.

Healthcare Professionals: I think this topic grows nearer and dearer to me as I age, but this year has been especially active for us when it comes to healthcare. I’ve already indicated the reasons why in my Thanksgiving post, and I also credited our excellent primary care physician. My wife worked with a host of healthcare professionals during her scans, biopsy, and surgery. I worked with several healthcare workers, as well. I had my first colonoscopy this fall. I realize that A) it means I’m old, and B) I probably should have had at least my second one by 57 years old. But I’m a bonafide coward who had put off the procedure, and I was quite nervous about it when the time came. Yet everyone I worked with through the process was patient and professional with me, compassionate about my trepidation and doing their best to assuage my fears. We’ve also worked with healthcare professionals who care for my mother, now 95 years old and living in hospice care in an assisted living facility. They care for her with an impressive level of integrity and grace. What I realize pondering all these experiences is just how exceptional everyone we’ve encountered has been. I’m talking every single individual – office staff, physician’s assistants, nurses, anesthesiologists, and of course, physicians…every one of these people we saw this year was terrific. Not once did we come across someone who seemed ornery, incompetent, flustered, frustrated, clueless, or even anxious. Anytime we dealt with healthcare professionals, it was clear that these people were, in fact, professionals. In retrospect, it was both astonishing and gratifying. At the same time, I’m frustrated for these people because we all know that the healthcare system in the US is, if not broken, then deeply flawed. Yet these workers continue to give excellent care within the confines of that system. That reflects a personal commitment that deserves a salute.

Event Planners: You might think, given how each of the previous items in this post seemed to imply a certain nobility, that this item seems odd. But hear me out on this. It’s easy to read the phrase “event planner” and conjure some type of pop cultural image, where the person involved is making massive sums of money managing lavish soirées. You know…the person wearing a headset to communicate with all the people under their charge as they give orders…in a movie, this person is typically a self-absorbed jerk, or the central character who’s too overworked and in need of some significant other to give life meaning, or perhaps even the comic relief. Maybe such people exist in the world, but the reality most of the time is that you’ve experienced the work of an event planner you’ve never seen, heard, or known. That person – a real person – earns a modest, nominal amount of money for the work, if any at all. Often, they’re either planning the event as an additional duty to their main job, or as a volunteer. And the goal of that individual is to craft and coordinate the best event possible for you as a member of a community. A show, a concert, a contest, a prom, a tournament, a spelling bee, a parade, a carnival, an athletic event, an awards program, a graduation. Someone is in charge of that event, trying to ensure that everyone involved knows what to do and actually does it when and how they’re supposed to. I often have the privilege of working with these people, because they need me to speak into a microphone at an appointed time to read a script, say a name, or deliver a message. I’ve talked in a previous post about how much I love contributing to a team in that role, but I also want to highlight here that we should all take opportunities to reflect on and appreciate the contributions of these people “in charge.” The vast majority are not doing it for large amounts of money; they’re doing it out of love for and commitment to the activity at hand and its participants. We, as citizens, community members, parents, family, and friends, desire to have memorable experiences for ourselves and our families, and that makes this work critical. Someone has to do it, and we should be appreciative of the people who step up and do.

Service Workers of all Types: Speaking of “someone has to do it,” let’s conclude by talking about service workers. My son, who I mentioned earlier, is one such worker. He’s one of thousands of workers in school cafeterias. For him, the work is stable and predictable, which is important for the nature of his autism; he craves routine. But from a broader perspective, I am quite proud of the work he does because anyone who’s spent time working in a school likely has an appreciation for all the work that goes into feeding the student population day-in and day-out. My own grandmother spent her career as a manager of a school cafeteria. Society often finds it easy to rag on the school lunch as something lame, but the truth is that it is extraordinary how well the system works. Heck, the general work involved in feeding the entire population of this planet, whether you’re talking about farming and ranching, fisheries, grocery stores, restaurants, food pantries, or anything else, is just this side of a miracle. And most of the people involved provide a service. And yet, for some reason American society so often looks down on them. Why? Why is it considered acceptable by some to denigrate the local barista or even the guy grilling burgers or making fries? Is it really OK to be awful to your server because the kitchen is slow? Is it acceptable to cuss out the fast food worker because they added mayo when you asked for none? Is it fathomable to look down on someone pouring your coffee when you work in an office job? Every single one of these people is a human being worthy of respect and dignity. The person changing your oil, rotating your tires, repairing your sink, replacing parts on your garage door, fixing the air conditioner, making your latte, cooking your food, bringing your food to the table, taking your garbage and recycling from your home, changing the sheets on your hotel bed, moving your baggage on and off the plane, serving your beer and hot dog. Humans. Every. Single. One. I don’t intend to get on a soapbox about living wages for all these people, but let’s at least commit to seeing them, recognizing their humanity, and showing some basic decency and respect.

The bottom line, in this post that preemptively seeks to counter the negative, albeit comedic, sentiments of Festivus, is that life is ultimately about trying to become a better person each day. Why bother getting up each morning if you’re not trying to become the best version of yourself? I think that’s why a different show, Ted Lasso, resonates so much with so many people, especially in this day and age. The central message of the show has always been to seek out the best version of us, to work constantly toward better. As someone who is acutely aware of the reality that I’m getting older and not, in fact, going to live forever, it’s all I really want now. I’m still going to have days when I falter in the quest to be a better person than I was yesterday, or last year, or last decade, or when I was only 30. But I’m still going to try. And particularly in this day and age, I think an important step in that direction is looking around and noticing the good things in this world. The little things. Noticing, acknowledging, and celebrating them.