Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Complicity, Culture, Daily Fail, Daily Mail, Diversity, Dysgraphia, Education, Empathy, England, Fatherhood, Hope, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Perspective, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
OK … so yesterday I said the posts this week were all superficial shite, but that was until I read an article that has pissed me off.
Have a look at this headline:
On one side, it’s from the Daily Mail – so this sort of divisive headline is to be expected – but what made me especially angry is the daughter in question is not ‘rebellious’, she has dysgraphia and dyscalculia … so she finds writing, reading and maths incredibly difficult.
NOT because she isn’t smart or capable, but because she has a neurological condition so she learns in a different way to the one the education system is set up to teach.
To be fair to the school in this article, it sounds they tried to help … but it also sounds they were so stretched that the way they approached it was more about giving them time off school rather than adapting their approach to schooling.
I’ve written about this in the past given Otis has dysgraphia and his school has been active in trying to adapt to help. Even then it’s not been easy – or perfect – but at least Otis knows he’s seen, heard and valued … which is more than the woman in this article probably feels.
Imagine being neurodivergent and having a national newspaper refer to you as rebellious and having your own Mum be OK with that.
Worse, the Mum makes it all about her and ‘her struggles’.
Yes, it can be hard … and yes, it can be stressful … but it’s a fuck-of-a-lot worse for kids going through this sort of thing. They feel stupid. They feel left behind. They feel discarded and useless. So the last thing they need is a parent – and an education system – labelling them rebellious or lazy when what they’re dealing with is neurological. To make matters worse, this neurological challenge doesn’t impact their capacity to learn, just the way they do learn … so they have huge amounts of potential but with too few people wanting to see it, recognise it and liberate it.
This article could have been about the need to relook at how we educate. It could have been about the importance of needs rather than standardisation. It could have been about progress rather than judgement. Instead this ‘newspaper’ decided to write a piece that shows they view compassion and encouragement as weakness and unfairness.
Shame on them.
Shame on the mother for allowing this headline.
Shame on the people who commented negatively without understanding.
You have to be pretty fucking vile to be jealous some kids need special attention from their schools.
It’s not elitism you pricks, it’s dealing with an issue not of their making and helping them stand a chance of having a life that is bigger than the one people like you want for them.
Fuck you. All of you.
You’re welcome.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Apple, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Colleagues, Comment, Complicity, Confidence, Content, Context, Creativity, Culture, Differentiation, Distinction, Diversity, Education, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Friendship, Honesty, Individuality, Insight, Loyalty, Marketing, Martin Weigel, Paula, Perspective, Planners, Planning, Point Of View, Presenting, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, Social Commentary, Social Divide, Standards, Wieden+Kennedy
Hello. I’m back.
And because you’ve had no posts for basically 2 weeks, this is going to be a long one.
Yes, I know my posts are already waaaaaaay to long. Sorry, but deal with it.
I had a great time in LA and before that Australia.
Well, I say Australia – but it was in Perth which is closer to Singapore than Sydney.
Met lots of people.
Had good conversation.
It was fun … so thank you State of Social, for inviting me to come over.
I have always loved to go to talks. The stress of putting it together isn’t fun … but for me it’s also about visiting new places, hearing new perspectives and just generally chatting to new people.
And on the rare occasion I get to do a talk with people I know and love, then I get the added benefit – as screenwriter/director Nora Ephron once said was one of the happiest feelings on earth – of enjoying dinner with friends in a city or country none of you live in.
It’s one of my favourite feelings too.
And that’s why Cannes was so special to me.
The event – if I’m being honest – wasn’t that great. Certainly compared to previous times I’d been … and I’ve never really liked it in the first place. But this time it felt the whole industry was in full-on heads-in-the-sand mode.
Nothing highlighted this more to me than the relief/confidence the industry media reported a comment made by Torr – from Apple – in his speech when he said Apple will always need and use agencies. That may be true, but it doesn’t take a data scientist to realise Apple are doing more and more creative work in-house and even their specialist agency – MAL – is seemingly doing less for them.
But I digress …
Because my favourite thing of doing a talk at Cannes was this …
I love these two.
And I love this photo … me, Paula and Martin.
I didn’t exactly have to bully them to do the talk, but I knew I only wanted to do it if they said yes. And the reason for that was we would get to hang out properly for the first time ever.
By that I mean, physically be in the same place … because throughout our time together, we’ve either only met on Zoom or been in situations where just 2 of us would ever be in the same place/country.
So it was special. It was also different.
Because being in the same place – away from the responsibilities of time/life – meant we could properly connect. A deeper way to interact … argue … debate. I totally get why some people prefer working from home. I appreciate the financial impact of travel and time – but you get something more out of being with others ‘in the flesh’, so to speak.
Just like you can learn about other countries from the internet … it’s not the same as actually going there or working there.
But many are discounting this. Claiming they can do their job perfectly well from the comfort of their home. And they probably can … but the question is whether they’re growing and evolving doing it that way. OK, so many will think they are … and many may not care … but there’s a massive difference being immersed in an environment rather than sitting on the outside of it.
I still remember trying to hire someone for W+K Tokyo. They were keen but it was their first overseas move so were rightfully apprehensive. They eventually turned it down and when I asked why, they said they had spoken to someone they knew and they’d advised against it. So I asked if that person had ever lived overseas and they said no – but they’d ‘visited a ton of countries’.
And I am sure they had, but just like looking up a place on the internet doesn’t give you a full understanding about the culture or nuances of a country, either does ‘visiting’ one for a week or two on holiday.
Of course there’s huge amounts you can learn from wherever you are. And there will be stuff that is amazing, important and unique to your situation and nation. But to think there is nothing to learn from outside experiences, perspectives and interactions, is crazy.
And that’s why being with Paula and Martin was so wonderful.
Because we’re bonded by what isn’t common.
We come from different countries.
We all live in different countries from where we were born.
We have all lived in multiple different countries – in my case, double figures.
We [now] all work at different companies and on different clients.
We all have different experiences that has led to different viewpoints.
And while by today’s nationalistic philosophies, it shouldn’t work – in fact we shouldn’t even want to interact – it does. Because perspective and growth comes from the environments, interactions and challenges we embrace … even the stuff that isn’t comfortable.
Sure, it’s all about how you do it – and we do it with respect for the global experiences, exposure and standards we all bring to the table and the knowledge no one is doing it to hurt the other, but to expand perspectives and considerations – but it still can be challenging and we may still may not agree.
Then there’s the fact that we are three, white, privileged adults … so despite having lived in multiple countries and worked with brands on a whole range of challenges and audiences … there’s still huge amounts we want to learn from others outside our frames of reference or understanding.
And while I totally appreciate some don’t want to – or can’t do that – to discount its value says more about the people putting up the barriers and blinkers than it does about the value of the alternative.
And that’s why things like Cannes is important.
The engagements and lessons and interactions.
I wish it wasn’t so expensive so more people could immerse themselves in it rather than just play on the outskirts of it … but wanting to be grow is a noble thing.
And while we were talking at Cannes and had an opinion we wanted to share … we went there wanting to grow too.
And that’s why it was so good to be there. With them.
To listen. To learn. To debate. To argue.
But most of all, to want to be challenged, so we can grow.
I’m lucky to have them in my life. I’m even luckier I got to spend time with them in person.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Childhood, Confidence, Context, Creativity, Differentiation, Education, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Fatherhood, Food For Thought, Jill, Mediocrity, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Prejudice, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, School, Trust
A few weeks ago I wrote about Otis and his love of the Rubik’s cube.
His ability to solve them blindfolded.
How he’s found the cube community to be nurturing and inclusive.
Well recently Otis reminded me of kids endless capacity to be more than just curious … but committed.
You see over the past few weeks, two new things have entered his world.
Yoyo’s and Table Tennis.
I don’t just mean passing interest, I mean a full commitment to see what he can do with it.
Now I appreciate this is a bit easier for him than it was in my day … because he has YouTube to help educate and inspire him.
But my god, his focus and energy has taken my breath away.
In a matter of weeks, his abilities have gone crazy. I appreciate this is the sort of thing you would expect a Dad to say about their kid, but I promise I’m being as objective as I can be.
I’ll have to write about his Yo-Yo chops another day … but it’s unbelievable what he can do [though the innovation of the product is also mind-blowling] however it’s his love of table tennis that is a sight to see.
Part of this is because he’s not really into sports.
He does like tennis, but has no interest in things like football or – that school nemesis – cross country.
But what is great about loving sport that involves hand/eye co-ordination is that it develops his motor skills, which will be permanently affected because of his diagnosis of dysgraphia.
For a while, he’s been hitting a table tennis ball against a window at home with a bat.
So far so good.
But this weekend we took him to the NZ Table Tennis association so he could see what it is like on a full sized table.
And rather than be intimidated or nervous, he loved it.
More amazing, after a bit of getting used to the new dynamics and environment, he was pretty good at it.
Of course I’m talking about the basics of table tennis, but it is his ability to throw himself into things and desire to get better that is fantastic … not so he can beat others, but so he can see how good he could be at something.
I’ve written about this before, but there’s far too many adults who are focused on speed rather than substance.
A desire to take short-cuts to move up than to build a solid layer of ability and experience.
I don’t blame them for doing this – the system is against them – but it also means the people who will be in-charge of the next generations development will be people who may not fully appreciate what development really is. Or can be.
And that’s why I’m proud of Otis. He wants to do it right.
He gets massively frustrated when his ability doesn’t match his ambition … but he works at it till it surpasses it.
His focus and desire is a joy to witness.
His pride of achievement.
His fast-track of growth through the unrelenting focus and commitment of an 8 year old. An 8 year old with dysgraphia.
And while his neurological situation may mean he has to learn in ways that are different to normal approaches, that does not mean his abilities or potential are less.
Not in the slightest.
And that’s what I wish schools and governments understood.
That some kids learn – or have to learn – in personalised ways.
Sure, a lot of schools find that hard because of a lack of resource … but there’s still too many who see teaching about group standardisation than individual potential.
At a time where there is a lot of talk of kids being lazy or under the spell of social media [which is not necessarily true but convenient for older generations to use to mitigate blame] … maybe it’s worth remembering that by not creating and funding a system that recognises, appreciates and encourages individual needs, it’s not their fault they don’t want to follow a path that works against them, its ours.
Add to that the disappointment and disillusionment they see in the adults who blindly followed this ‘one-size-fits-all’ system and ideology, and I’d argue they’re smarter than us.
So while Otis is just doing what he loves, I hope one day he realises he’s a quiet revolutionary … one who shows his focus, dedication and desire to be better can break down barriers.
For him. And the millions of kids who have so much to offer and give, like him.
I was recently invited to speak to a class of exec-MBA students at Cambridge University.
If anything reflects the state of education, even at the most respected of institutions, it’s this.
Given the closest I got to university was driving past Nottingham Polytechnic when I was a kid, of course I said yes.
Maybe you think being asked to talk would be enough to satisfy my ego.
Maybe you think I would want to present myself as a mature, professional.
Maybe you have forgotten what I’m like.
Because despite it being midnight in Auckland, I was awake enough to exploit my moment of power by saying that they needed to give me a wave before I would start.
I know … I know … what a prick move.
But it wasn’t total stupidity, because it ensured they looked pleased to hear from me at least once throughout my talk. #strategy
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Bands, Bangkok Shakes, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Education, England, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, Nottingham, Parents
So on Sunday, my beloved Dad would have been 85.
Given he died at 60 – and I’m 53 – that means he has been gone for almost half of my life.
And in some ways it feels it.
Memories made up of different moments from the distant past.
But when anniversaries approach … the context changes.
Backgrounds become foregrounds … and despite all the years I’ve had to come to terms with things, they still have the power to take me on an incredibly emotional rollercoaster.
Part of that is because of our history … the other part is because of what I wish I could share and discuss.
He always had questions.
Not for judgement but connection.
OK, mainly for connection – hahaha.
And with so many things having happened in my life since he passed, I can only imagine all the things he’d want to know about.
God I’d love that.
I’d love to watch his eyes as he met my wife, my son …
Saw the life we live, have lived and plan to live.
Feel I’d made him proud.
Because so many of the decisions in my life have been driven by my desire to do just that. To feel my actions and behaviours would be things that made him feel a sense of pride.
Of course I’ve done stuff that would not come anywhere close to gaining that reaction, but in the main I think he would believe I’ve made him proud more times than I’ve disappointed him … but then my Dad, like my Mum, saw their role as encouraging me to always chase fullfilment rather than choose conformity or contentment.
And they did.
Sure, there were some gulps when I told them I didn’t want to go to university …
And when I was going to spend 10 years of savings all in one go on guitar amps …
But once they knew why I was making those decisions, they supported me.
Proper support. Encouragement. Interest. Help.
It was only when I was older that I realised how lucky I was, how this was not ‘normal’ parent behaviour.
So on what would be my Dad’s 85th birthday, I’d like to talk about a story of this encouragement.
I’ve written it before, but – to me – it’s a moment where his [and Mum’s] reaction changed the course of my life in a good way.
I was alright at school.
I was one of the cleverest in the thick bunch and one of the thickest in the clever bunch.
So basically bang in the middle.
But I worked hard. I put in effort. And the teachers knew I really tried.
However when it came to exams, I was a disaster.
Didn’t matter how hard I revised, the moment I was in a situation where I felt ‘everything came down to that moment’… I fell apart. While my parents did all they could to help – including getting me extra lessons – I now realise it was probably driven by anxiety … however in 1986, anxiety didn’t exist so while my school work continued to be good, exams still continued to be a major problem for me.
Nothing highlighted this more than when I was sent to the local careers advisor.
I told them I wanted to be a lawyer or a journalist [more on that in a minute] but the moment they looked at my projected qualifications – despite my solid schoolwork – they said:
“Have you considered a career in catering management”.
Now there is nothing wrong with catering management. I have some friends that work in that industry who love it. But even then I knew absolutely that it wasn’t for me. And at that moment, that careers advisor stamped all over the hopes and dreams I had for the future.
Aged just 16.
Of course I sort-of understand. They said what they saw from the ‘data’ in front of them … however while I appreciate they couldn’t give me any false hope, pointing me in a direction I had no interest in was equally as bad. Despite this all happening 37 years ago, I still remember the lack of interest he showed in understanding me. I was just another kid he was contractually obliged to see. Another kid he had to ‘tick off’ his register.
I left that building in a bit of a daze.
I caught the 45 bus back to Mum and Dad’s.
I remember the day because it was the day Andrew and Fergie got married.
It was sunny. Except in my head and heart.
Frankly I was devastated. I had – in my mind – been told the most I should aspire for was what I imagined at the time, a ‘mediocre’ life.
(I appreciate this would not be necessarily the case, but I was young and at the time, I just had my hopes crushed and so I only saw stuff in black and white)
When I got home, I found Dad in his chair watching the pomp and ceremony.
He loved the history of the Royal Family, but didn’t really love the Royals … so when he saw me, he could tell something was up. I tried to fake it at first. Put on a smile. Not just because I was trying to process what had just happened … but I didn’t want to disappoint him. But my Mum and Dad knew me well and so slowly I let things out.
I remember he listened intently. Taking it all in. And when I got to the point of ‘catering management’ he asked what I thought of that. And I probably cried … because it was absolultely not what I wanted to do.
And despite my family all being incredible lawyers, he asked, “why aren’t you looking at music?”
This was a revelation for a whole host of reasons.
One … the idea of a career in music was so far outside my frame-of-reference that it sounded even more crazy than me saying I wanted to become a lawyer.
Two … while I had been playing the guitar – and done some gigs for a few years – I always assumed my parents saw it as a hobby. Or worse, an educational distraction.
And if that wasn’t amazing enough, then he said something that changed my life.
He told me he loved me.
He told me exam results don’t define the future of me.
He told me a person who only spent 15 minutes with me knows nothing about me.
He told me history was littered with people who achieved more than others said they would.
He told me he wants me to chase what I’m passionate about, not what others want me to be passionate about.
He told me he sees how hard I work and how much I can – and have – achieved because of that hard work.
He told me he and Mum will always do what that can to support me.
He told me he was proud of me.
This is all I needed to hear. Because all I wanted was to be seen. Recognised for my effort and interests not just my school results. Actually that’s wrong, just seen for my exam results.
Of course I knew whatever I did wouldn’t be easy … but I never expected it to be. But here was my Dad – followed by my Mum when she came home from work – telling me he loved me and believed in me, despite what some careers officer thought … and that changed everything.
Within a few years, I got the 3rd highest mark in law across the country.
Within a few years I became a session guitarist for a bunch of 80’s popstars.
Within a few years I was in a band that signed a record deal with Virgin.
Within a few years I started a career in an industry that has helped me experience a life beyond my wildest dreams.
My Dad did that.
My Mum did that.
And in later life … my wife did that.
I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for it … I’m not saying I didn’t have many twists and turns along the way … but they were the reason I was able to go for it.
A belief in me that is probably more than the belief I have in me.
Never blind and blinkered … but also never dismissive or undermining.
What a gift.
What a Dad.
Happy birthday. I love you and miss you so much.
A kiss to you and Mum.
Rx