The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]

For those who don’t know what that is, it’s a condition that means – while his capacity to learn is the same as everyone else’s – the way he learns is different.

I’ve written about how his school has tried to accommodate him and how grateful we are for that, but the reality is – understandably – most schools are designed to cater to the masses, not the edge … so as much as Otis did well, it still meant he was being taught [and measured] to a standard more than his potential.

Anyway, this year – because he was due to change school having turned 11 – we decided to take the plunge and enroll him in a specialist creative school that follows an educational model that has been specifically designed for kids who have ability, but learn differently.

I am massively against private education, but within minutes of walking in – I got very emotional because I knew this is what he needed. What would help him thrive. Not to be better than others, but to be better for himself.

Within a few days of attendance, he proved we were right.

On about the 3rd day, he came home and told us why he knew this school was right for him.

It wasn’t because there’s only 90 kids in the entire school
[when previously there were 70 just in his class]
It wasn’t because the building feels more fun ad agency than place of studious education.
It wasn’t even because it’s next to a beach which the whole class goes to every day.

No, it was this: He doesn’t need to charge his laptop every day.

Now you may think that means he’s not doing much learning … but you’d be wrong. In fact, you couldn’t be more wrong.

You see, at his old school, all he ever did was use his computer.

Part of this was because dysgraphia affects your ability to write with a pen, so he did everything on a laptop. But the other part of this is because his teachers – in a bid to keep him busy while also needing to give attention to the rest of the class – gave him endless worksheets to fill in.

In essence, his education was more about data entry than learning.

That’s not a diss, we understand the situation they were in and were very grateful for the genuine interest in trying to help … however in just a few days, Otis has discovered what education really is about … what it really means … how it really feels.

And while he has stated he finds this harder … he’s not just happy about it, he’s happy about how he’s being encouraged to approach it.

Learn not follow.
Think not repeat.
Experience not reference.
Inclusive not exclusive.
Engaged not left to type.

Which is why the fact his computer only needs charging once-a-week rather than everyday is so noticeable and powerful.

Not just to him, but to his Mum and Dad as well.

It reminds me of the time I was doing a project for Coca-Cola in Indonesia.

We’d launched the Open Happiness work and I’d been sent to Indonesia to talk to kids about what optimism meant to them.

I remember talking to some kids – about 15 years old – when one of them took me to the other side of the street and pointed into the distance.

All I could see was a skyline filled with tall buildings and cranes that were building even more tall buildings so I asked him what I was supposed to be looking at.

“The cranes”, he said. “I’m seeing my future being built in front of my eyes”.

I loved it. I loved how they’d just communicated something pretty fluid and morpheus in a way that suddenly was clear-as-fuck. Something I didn’t just understand, but felt … while somehow also ensuring I was very aware of the context, conflict and challenge they’d gone through leading up to that point.

Like with Otis’ and his use of the battery % on his laptop to help me truly appreciate the journey he’d been on, the comment about the cranes made a lasting impression on me.

Which highlights a really important point.

People very rarely connect, project, express and see meaning in things in ways that reflect how we want them to communicate to us.

That doesn’t mean they lack ability, it means we lack the ability to translate them.

Some of that’s because we’ve become an industry that values convenience over nuance. Some of that’s because we’ve become an industry that values answers over understanding. Some of that’s because we’ve become an industry that values the functional not the emotional.
Some of that’s because we’ve become an industry that values what the clients want to say more than what the audience want to hear. Some of that’s because we’ve become an industry obsessed with the ‘science’ of marketing, not the people it’s for. But most of it’s because we’ve become an industry that places greater value on audiences repeating a specific set of words based on our communication than having them express its impact on them through their individual feelings, emotions and behaviours.

My son … and that kid in Indonesia … not only helped me understand what education and optimism meant to them in ways that no focus group or data set could ever achieve, but they gave me access into their world.

How they see it.
How they interpret it.
How they live within it.
How they cope inside of it.
How they hope to experience it.

The more we open our eyes and ears to what is going on in our audiences world – rather than focus on what we want them to specifically repeat in their world – the more we not only can make a bigger difference to our clients in the work we create, but the more our clients will make a bigger impact on the people they need.

Or as my friend Andy once said: