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Self-Centered Is Self-Sabotage

Let me begin this week’s post with a mundane activity that often gets overlooked, but that, personally, gives me a great deal of satisfaction: a proper highway merge. They happen every day — a car signals their intent, enters the on-ramp, accelerates to the proper speed for the surrounding traffic, and smoothly moves into the available open space in the lane. Do it correctly, and traffic keeps moving without any problem. Do it poorly, and traffic is disrupted. Now take it one step further: the on-ramp is actually an entry/exit combo, where there’s an extra lane so that entering traffic can merge onto the freeway and exiting traffic can make their way off. It seems simple, but I find it very cool when I’m in such a merge, another driver and I both signal our intentions correctly, then we essentially switch places in the merge lane and head our separate ways. It’s a little thing, but I love it. So satisfying.

Why is it satisfying? Because two complete strangers, each piloting more than a ton of machinery down the highway, manage to 1) follow the rules of the road, 2) pay attention to each other, and 3) complete a cooperative maneuver safely and smoothly. It’s one of those fundamental tasks that serves as evidence of human ability, even without taking into account the technological marvels of the machinery itself or the road we’re driving on. We manage to cooperate without incident at 50 miles per hour or more. It’s the kind of thing that makes you wonder why people struggle so much when the traffic lights go into flashing-red status for a boulevard stop, or why they can’t deal with a school bus coming to a stop to drop off students and halting traffic, or why drivers sometimes cannot figure out how to “zipper” to merge exiting a parking lot or consolidating into a single lane on the road.. Why is it so hard?

There’s a key term in the paragraph above: Cooperate. A compound word literally meaning “work together.” Cooperation is a concept in short supply in current American culture for a variety of reasons. I’m not here to delineate any of those reasons, to decry anything about the U.S., or to discuss political, economic, or broad cultural issues. Maybe sometime in the future. But today, I’m talking about cooperation, or lack of it, in terms of how it impacts our individual lives and the goals we pursue, through the lenses of both my voiceover career and my education career. One of the fundamental problems in both of these worlds is the logical opposite of cooperation, competition, which, at its core, is rooted in individualism. Individualism and self-reliance have their place, but too much of them often gets in the way because you’re too interested in beating someone rather than working with or helping them. In other words, when you’re self-centered, you focus on competing, not cooperating. This produces conflict, and it can actually hinder your career.

Competition is ultimately a self-centered notion. Yes, it is possible to have cooperation in competitive sports, because the members of one team have to cooperate among themselves to succeed against the opponent. But that’s the beauty of team sports: in order to compete, you have to cooperate first. It’s also one of the things I have always loved about being involved in band. Talk about the “3 Cs” of success: Collaboration, Communication, and Cooperation, all in service to learning to perform with musical excellence, both on the marching field and the concert stage. And yes, band can be a competitive venture, but ensembles that may not score at the top of a given recap sheet can still build success because they >>ta-da<< work and grow together. Ask any band member — or a member of a successful athletic or other team — and their memories usually don’t focus on a particular trophy, but rather the other people with whom they worked and sweated and cried and cheered and busted their tails trying to reach their goals. Sure, championships groups will always hold on to that achievement, but what truly makes it special are the people with whom you achieved.

Along the way, the most infuriating people you encounter are the ones who refuse to cooperate. Who won’t commit to the goals of the group. Who focus more on themselves than the team. Honestly, it’s why the concept of “cooperative learning” gave me proverbial hives as both a student and a teacher — place me in a group of 4-5 people, and I guarantee that I will work hard on the task at hand, even if it’s a little silly (I’m wired that way), but I also guarantee that at least one of the people in the group will NOT work hard, will not pull their own weight, and will be essentially an empty seat. I’ll bet you, dear reader, can remember a time or two when you had a deadbeat group member, which is why you, too, hated “group work” in school. Because there’s always someone who’s self-centered, selfish, or otherwise in conflict with the intended purpose of the given group. Maybe this person is competitive, or maybe they’re just naturally contrary. But they disrupt the collective efforts of everyone else. The concept doesn’t just stay isolated in school environments. Somewhere, there’s a company whose employees are expected to work together on projects, and there’s also that one person who just doesn’t step up and deliver for the group. Somewhere, there’s a professional athletic team with a player who is more concerned with his/her own statistics than with the performance of the team. And yes, somewhere there just might be a voiceover talent who places more emphasis on his/her “artistic concerns” than on the needs of the very people who hired him/her. And yes, somewhere there might be a teacher who isn’t helpful to colleagues, particularly new ones, and creates an unproductive competitive environment between him/herself and the other teachers “on the team.”

You might suspect that I experienced that last one, and you would be correct. I mentioned in a previous post about how the first five years of my education career were rough, and one of the fundamental reasons was my so-called “mentor teacher.” As I mentioned previously, I was initially hired to teach government and economics, and I was handed a class of each consisting 100% of special education students…because, as the established government and economics teachers said, “we just can handle working with them.” This pair of teachers were the only teachers of these classes prior to my hiring, and as they put it, “we consider our classes a rite of passage for seniors.” Obviously, there was a fair amount of arrogance from the outset, and my assigned mentor — the government teacher — carried most of it. He was that teacher who considered his little classroom in the portable building to be his own little fiefdom where he had total control, and his materials and assignments were proprietary to the highest degree. Before the year started, he handed me his “lesson plans” from the previous year (printed on a dot matrix printer — hello, 1994), and that was essentially my guide to, I don’t know…how to teach government? That was the extent of sharing and collegiality from this individual. I quickly came to realize that A) he printed those plans for administration but didn’t actually follow them, and B) I was on my own. And I would eventually hear tales of him discussing the differences between “the two government classes” with his own classes as my students and his compared notes and assignments. It became a sort of competitive environment, perhaps even a little toxic. While I don’t think in hindsight that it hindered or sabotaged my career, I know it didn’t help it. And the conflict that persisted those first three years was eventually why I was moved over to world geography in year 4. Mercifully, after that move, I found other teachers with whom to collaborate and from whom to learn and advance my skills. That feeling of cooperation within the world geography team likely saved my teaching career. Had I been consigned to a lonely world filled with competition and resentment, I probably would’ve left the profession completely.

Fortunately, my voiceover career hasn’t been quite so rough, despite the reputation the industry has for being competitive. Sure, there are thousands of “voiceover talents” out there, but one of the things that I and many others notice is that voice actors are very giving and helpful toward one another. In a world that should be ultra-competitive, there is instead an environment of collaboration, transparency, and cooperation, even from the oldest and most established talents toward brand-new talents seeking their own paths. Not everything is free, but information and advice are abundant, and the atmosphere is more welcoming than you might imagine. But one thing that inspired this post came unexpectedly during a voiceover conference I recently attended. The conference was a great experience overall, and I learned a lot from a variety of people, but during a break between sessions, I overheard a conversation between two people who were lamenting their own difficulties in the industry, and the mindset was rather revealing, and little disconcerting given how helpful everyone at the conference was. One woman was discussing her difficulties at getting any traction with auditions and bookings. She recounted to her friend that growing up, she wanted to be famous “like Dolly Parton.” (Ironic given the events of Tuesday. RIP Dolly.) I didn’t really pay attention to any of the further details, but it seemed like the general point of the conversation was basically all about “me, me, me” and “my voice” and the overall view that she didn’t think anyone was giving her a fair chance in the industry. It really bothered me because the attitude was in serious contrast to just about everything I was hearing in sessions and conversations at this conference. I mean, what do you expect? It’s a welcoming industry, but it can also be a grind, so you have to persist and really work at all of it. No one’s going to get “discovered,” but literally look around you and you’ll find many people willing to help you figure out how to get your own career going.

Even before the events of Tuesday and the tributes to Dolly Parton, my initial reaction to what I heard was a mix of surprise and skepticism, because anyone who was a fan of Dolly knew that she worked incredibly hard establishing herself as a country singer and songwriter, and if things weren’t going her way, she never whined about it and just worked harder. And Dolly’s efforts were never about herself, but about writing music that appealed to her fans, doing things that served her community, and just helping others. The tributes starting Tuesday merely cemented those ideas with tales of how graceful and genuine she was as a person. So looking back, hearing another voiceover talent complaining and being self-centered drove home the notion that this person was really missing the point. You want to be famous like Dolly? Work your tail off. Bring something to the table that no one else can. Find an audience to serve, and serve them. And most of all, work well with others. Cooperate. Collaborate. That’s what leads to success. And that brings me back full circle to the point of this post. Individualism, self-centered behavior, greed…they’re forces that can motivate people in a free society, and certainly in a capitalist economy, but they’re not the point or the goal. Capitalism is supposed to reward you when you provide someone else something better than they can themselves. That’s why they pay you; that’s why they say “Thank You.” And you thank them back for the reward that you should have rightfully earned by providing quality. It’s a Win-Win mentality. Self-centered perspective without regard for someone else leads nowhere. Stop worrying about winning a competition or prevailing in a conflict. Stop adopting a Win-Lose mentality. Focus on how you can work with someone else toward a purpose that is mutual, whether that’s as simple as a safe, smooth transition on a freeway, as complex as planning lessons with teaching colleagues, or as creative as a project or event for which you provide a voiceover. Cooperate toward a greater goal, a collective goal. Play a part in a larger story, and serve. It’s satisfying.

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When It’s Not About You

It’s been a fascinating two weeks since my last blog post, with several happenings that might seem disparate at first, but which have elicited some thoughts for me when juxtaposed against each other. I’m still basking in the glow of graduation, one of my favorite live-announce jobs of the year. Father’s Day is approaching, so I take heart in having helped raise two wonderful young men, and I know that one of the favorite annual traditions of my earlier years is also near: drum major camp. (More on that further down the post.) Against the backdrop of those very positive things lie some decidedly difficult observations. First, I came across a fellow PA announcer who posted video of himself introducing the visiting team in a comical, derogatory manner, which is 100% disrespectful, not just to the visiting team, but to the game on the field. I came across another fellow PA announcer who recently booked a high-profile job and posted a photo of an actor on-stage while referencing “my biggest stage yet.” And just this week, I learned of someone who passed away suddenly in his sleep, and now a family member of his is trying to upstage everyone’s shock and grief apparently to hog the proverbial spotlight. What do all of these more troublesome events have in common? Call it what you wish: Egomania. Narcissism. Solipsism. Conceit. Self-Infatuation. Vanity. Characteristics that sit in stark contrast to what makes both voiceover and education fulfilling.

This post was originally intended to discuss my thoughts on and memories of drum major camp, so let’s begin there. Forty years ago (!!!), I auditioned for and captured a position as Drum Major with the University of Texas at Arlington Marching Band. It was the spring following the cancellation of football at UTA, in preparation for the band’s first season as “Ambassadors of the University” later in the fall. I’ve written about it before in two parts, so I won’t spend any time in this space providing background. But I can say that this achievement literally changed my life. I had initially planned on leaving Arlington to attend college, but seizing this honor meant I would stay in-town and attend college while living at home. Over time, my involvement with the band would eventually take me toward the world of voiceover. But before that, my role as drum major would lead me to teach the UTA Drum Major & Leadership Camp, eventually inspiring me to enter the world of education. The UTA Drum Major Camp began then, and still begins, on the Sunday coinciding with Father’s Day. It’s a week filled with hard work on a variety of topics pertaining to the role of the high school drum major: conducting, marching instruction, leadership & group dynamics, and showmanship. Mornings outside in the heat working on physical activities, afternoons inside for conducting and discussion, evenings featuring light work and usually something more fun. I taught exclusively at the UTA camp for 3 years before expanding my involvement to include East Texas State University’s (now East Texas A&M) camp. I eventually stopped working the ETSU camp, but I remained with the UTA camp for a total of 16 years, including serving as the Principal Instructor for 8 years. For those final 8 years, I was in-charge of developing a revised curriculum that brought the camp into the 21st century. You might be surprised how much the typical high school marching band evolved from 1986 to 2001, and the nature of a band’s leadership had to evolve with it.

I learned at drum major camp that I love teaching. I love inspiring students to find skills and strength deep within themselves. I love breaking down complex ideas for students to assist them in accessing and mastering those concepts. I love helping students tap into and hone physical abilities they didn’t previously have. I love exploring both philosophical and practical approaches to leadership, and assisting students as they determine what will work for their personality and/or the personalities within their ensemble. I love the camaraderie of working with an elite team of instructors, collaborating in ways that enhance the learning of an entire group. Many of the cool buzzwords and ideals that you hear from educational administrators when they discuss teaching and learning were right there in action for me at, of all places, drum major camp. It made sense, really. High school bands sent us their best leaders, we hired people who were excellent leaders and teachers in their own right, and everyone gathered together for an unforgettable week growing together. Students didn’t just learn; they bonded with leaders from other schools, with so-called “competitors.” It probably sounds too-good-to-be-true, but it actually wasn’t. It was 100% a fulfilling week, every year. Even after I started teaching in a “normal” classroom, where I wasn’t always working with the best and brightest, I looked forward to drum major camp because it showed me just how cool and productive the education process can be when bright, committed individuals come together and cooperate in service to something bigger.

One underlying idea during every camp was the drum major’s true role in the ensemble. Sure, the average observer of a band sees the drum major as the public leader. The student(s) wear a different uniform, they salute the judges, they stand on the podium and conduct, they show all the visible signs of leadership and showmanship. But the real value of a drum major to a band is established behind the scenes, in how the drum major carries him/herself off the podium, in rehearsal, during warmup, on the bus, at school. Some of the most critical leadership a drum major can exhibit might happen on a random Tuesday in September, when the band is struggling through an afternoon rehearsal on a day that’s hotter than it should be. The public never sees that. But the drum major sets the tone for how everyone in the band is expected to act. When I led the UTA camp, we even had an oath: “I am the band. What I do, the band will do. What I say, the band will say. What I am the band will be.” And even though the oath literally says, “I am the band,” the irony is that if you’re the drum major, it is never about you. It’s about the band. Sure, the drum major gets to be out-front, salute the judges, acknowledge the crowd, etc. But a drum major who looks phenomenal doing the showy things in front of a poorly-performing ensemble doesn’t garner nearly as much respect as a drum major who might be less proficient as a showman leading an ensemble that performs impeccably. In the end, the drum major cares most about the show on the field, and the performers creating it. That’s what it’s about.

You know who else should care most about the show on the field? The PA Announcer. I’ve written about this before. The person announcing a contest, or a halftime, or any other event has one job: Make the ensemble on the field look good. Speak at the right time. Pronounce any names correctly. Show same enthusiasm for this group as you have for every other group. It doesn’t matter if it’s the defending champions of this festival, or even of the state marching band contest, or simply a small school performing its first contest show in five years; the ensemble on the field deserves your professionalism in this moment. Those students deserve your best work. And yet, no one actually came to hear you speak; they came to see and hear those students perform. Now, let’s take those same principles and apply them to a sporting event…High school softball. College baseball. Pro basketball. International football. There may be 70 people in the stands, or 70,000. They came for the event, not you. To your credit, you booked the job and are in the booth, but make no mistake: you are decidedly not “on-stage.” People actually pay to see the stage actor. For this event, they paid for an experience. You were hired by the organizers and ultimately can contribute to the fan experience IF you take the right approach. Are you exposed? Absolutely. Just an open mic and perhaps a script. So don’t suck. Say the names correctly. Do your best work. But realize this: Only a chosen few in the crowd will make note of how good the PA announcer was. Most attendees or viewers will only remember you if you’re bad, or if you do something disrespectful, like intentionally trying to make fun of the visiting team by playing cartoon music under their introductions, using some silly voice, or saying their names in a mocking style. They might notice you if you deliberately call attention to yourself, but that won’t be a good thing. It’s not about you unless you make it about you. And if you make it about you, the memories made will be unpleasant.

You know when else memories become unpleasant if you make it about you? Milestones of living. Often times, those are graduations, weddings, holidays, or other big occasions. Sometimes, it’s death, and funerals. And I get it: everyone grieves differently, and sometimes irrationally. In the case of the death I mentioned at the outset of this post, the primary emotion of the family is basically shock. This death was unexpected; the cause of death has been revealed by medical professionals, but no one knew beforehand about any impending risks or problems. Everyone in that family is simply trying to process the event more than anything right now. … It simply happened. Right now, the concern is about the untimely death itself, and the immediate family working through the aftermath. Read the room, respect the situation, and above all, don’t make it about you.

Now, this post isn’t meant to suggest it is never about you. There’s certainly plenty of room for things like self-care. Take time off from work, get that message, have that dinner with friends, go on that vacation. Do something for you, especially if you’re working a daily grind for a long time. And there are definitely days, and events, and situations, where each of us, as individuals, truly do “take the stage.” We may literally star in a show. We get married. We receive awards and achieve other milestones. We celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. And on those occasions, yes, it is entirely about you. And of course, we live in a capitalist economy, where self-interest is the driving force behind our economic choices. But capitalism has always been about “win-win,” where both parties in a transaction receive benefit. Mutual self-interest generally means cooperation and collective growth. In the past half-century, the system appears to have evolved to a point where self-interest comes at the expense of others; a “win-lose” mentality. And too often, we seem to be living in an era where people seek the spotlight in a gratuitous or performative manner. They misinterpret circumstances or ignore them outright in an attempt to gain notoriety. For attention. For social media likes. To “build the brand.” Or perhaps because the individual is simply selfish and entitled. Perhaps All of the Above. Either way, I am not here for it, at all. Individualism isn’t absolute. Branding has its place, but sometimes that place is elsewhere. Sometimes self-interest and self-advocacy interfere with what’s necessary. That’s the hallmark of both of the careers which I have pursued. In education, it’s obvious, because the teacher, administrator, counselor, or other individual involved in the profession does their work to serve the students. An educator on a power trip or a journey for recognition is typically bad at the job, because the job is about the students. Similarly, a voice actor who is primarily interested in the limelight is looking in the wrong place. Voiceover is about the message, the story, the event…in other words, anything but the VO talent. The voice actor serves the project and brings life to it without ever overshadowing it. I think that’s a major reason I gravitated toward VO as I wrapped up three decades in education. I’d rather play a part in service to something bigger, because it provides a great outlook on life. When the point is the overall group, or someone else, or something bigger than yourself, taking a step back and simply serving offers far more satisfaction than looking for a way to seize any spotlight.