Recently a student teased me for having written an L and an R on the back of my hands. “Mr. Libman doesn’t know his left from his right,” she told the class. In fact, I pointed out with some pride, I do know my left from my right; the fact that the letters had been placed on the correct hand was proof.
That day I had been writing directions for friends going on a bike trip and, though I have a good sense of direction, I’m also dyslexic so it takes me an extra beat to figure out which word goes with which direction. If someone says to me, “Turn left,” I have to think, “I’m left handed, that’s this hand, so this is the way I turn.” If they say turn right, I think, “I’m left handed, that’s this hand, but I should turn the other way. Toward this hand.”
Am I proud to be a 50-year-old man who has to think before giving directions? No, but I am proud of the fact that I’m no longer embarrassed by it. There’s something liberating about advertising shortcomings.
Because I’m not handy -- another failing -- when a wicker rocking chair in my house needed to be re-caned, my solution was to donate it to local senior citizens who fix up furniture and then resell it for charity. When they finished, I bought it back.
I wasn’t ashamed. I just told the old guy, “This is my chair and I got you guys to fix it for me -- and only for 40 bucks and three weeks of regularly checking the sale floor at the community center.” Plus I helped some charity, though I’m unclear which one.
Be proud of your shortcomings. Turn them into positives for your community. For some of us, it’s all we got.
I’m Dan Libman, and that’s my perspective.
