The Blame Game

As some of you know and most of you have guessed, I work with students for whom impulse control is a challenge. They mean well. They mostly get up every morning with good intentions and hope beyond all reason. But it doesn't always work out. Sometimes the "right" choice isn't always the "first" choice.

Hence, I am frequently in the position of having to explain the concept of Personal Responsibility. I've gotten rather good at it over the years. At the drop of a hat (or, as is more often the case, a chair that was flung across the room) I can launch into a well-honed speech on how each of us must accept the consequences of our choices. I have fifty or so versions and can choose one that best fits the situation. If needed, I can wax eloquent on the matter for at least an hour. I can weave in personal stories from my own life experiences or craft a parable for those who might not wish to hear how Ms. Sheep handled things back in the olden days. I will cover all the salient points including, but not limited to:

*How each of us has a choice when it comes to our actions.

*How our intentions do not mean as much as those actions.

*How there is more power in accepting responsibility than in handing it off to others.

*How behavior only changes when we acknowledge our poor choices.

*How you don't get to go bowling on Friday with the rest of the class if you can't get your act together and if the other stuff doesn't mean anything to you, then that should.

Yup. I'm a regular fount of Middle School wisdom. I've got it all down pat. Of course, most of the kids in my class have been with me for years. Some have followed me around the school district since they had cartoon characters on their bed sheets. They've heard every version of this speech more times than they can count. However I don't think this detracts from the poetic quality of my words in the least. In fact, so mellifluous am I that many of them actually doze off after the first thirty minutes...

You'd think that, with all that amazing insight into the art of responsibility, I'd be better equipped to deal with mistakes in my life. It would seem that I would be rather adept at owning my actions and learning from my poor choices. You'd think this was the case.

However, I am still capable of staring at a thrummed mitten and crying out:

Stupid blog! Making me knit mittens!!! The blog is mean and should be punished for this!!

It's not the blog's fault. I told the blog I thought I should knit mittens for Mrs. Secretary Who Sits At The Back Desk and the blog said I should do it. The blog wasn't wrong. The blog was telling me what I knew all along, really.

Further, the blog never once said I should knit thrummed mittens. That decision was mine. The blog never even mentioned thrumming until I brought it up. Thrums do not come from blogs. Thrums come from knitters who are bored and who think that stuffing mittens might be fun.

I probably shouldn't have used gift mittens as a first time thrumming experiment. For that matter, I probably should have referred to a pattern or some other source of information before merrily thrumming away. It didn't occur to me that it might be a good idea to plan the thrum placement to account for the thumb gusset increases. Even so, they still might work out.

But they are a gift. I shouldn't be throwing thrums around all willy-nilly if I'm not feeling sure about it. That is not responsible behavior. So I set the thrummed mittens aside and cast on for a regular pair. I still like the thrummed mittens. I'll finish them at some point. But I'll play it safe with the gift mittens. Starting over is something I have to accept as a consequence of my own poor choices.

Now if I can just find the words to make it right with the blog. Poor blog...

SA