When is it good enough?

When is it good enough?

by Carolyn Mamchur

Does it depend upon the what and why and how we are creating something?

This question asked by most creatives has me by the throat, presses hard against my chest. “When is it good enough to share, to show, to sell, to publish, to wear, to record?”

In academia, where standards are to public in top tier journals, where competition is fierce, and where you are always expected to push yourself to do your absolute best, I rarely asked myself this question. Everyone knows you must try your very best to make it.

As a person who has chosen the subject of writing to dominate her teaching career, how many times have I not insisted that writing is re-writing. Not editing grammar, spelling, the stuff computers have started doing for us, but actual re-writing. I remind my students that even Ernest Hemingway, when interviewed about writing one of his famous, best-selling novels, commented that he had written the ending over and over again.

“You couldn’t decide how to end it?”

“Well no, I knew that.”

“What, then?”

“Getting the words right.”

There’s good reason re-writing is a natural part of the process. A first draft often draws upon unconscious thought. Ideas, images, flow into the writer’s mind and find their way to the page. The process involves both concentrated thinking and a dream-like state of openness. What emerges in a first draft often surprises the writer themselves.

A second reason that necessitates re-writing is that the end of a composition teaches the beginning. What do I mean by that? The opening must prepare the reader for what is to come. The writer wants the reader to be able to say, “of course”. It is not that the reader can predict the ending; it is that it makes total sense based on what has come before.

Why, then, am I asking the question that suggests some things are simply “good enough”?

Is it not incumbent upon a creator to do their best?

Perhaps there was a time I thought so. As a woman enjoying her so-called golden years, I’m not so sure. There are a host of considerations that qualify my answer. Time is number one. I am aware that I am running out of it.

Another is purpose. Because of my perception of limited time, I am made aware of purpose and audience: why am I creating this book, essay, pottery, garment and for whom?

My most recent project, which I have named” a living book for teachers”, has raised this “when is it enough” question.

Why am I doing this project?

The answer is somewhat complex. Perhaps I am clinging to a profession I have enjoyed for over sixty years. I discovered I was in love with teaching when I was a student teacher at the Teachers’ College in Saskatoon, Sask. I’ve taught every day of my working life since that early practicum.

I waited until I was eighty years old to retire — and I miss it!

During those sixty odd years of teaching, I have learned a lot. Lived experiences in high schools, universities, colleges, board rooms, prisons have resulted in a sense of confidence and a desire to share what I have learned.

That’s the why. The who is obvious — teachers of all kinds.

The how is as complex as the why. At my age, joining an institution full time is out of the question. Agism is alive and well in Canada as elsewhere. The only reason I was allowed to work so long was the fact that I was a tenured full professor.

But even if I were hired, I must confess, I have filled my life with so many passions — an animal sanctuary, a botanical garden, a gorgeous young husband — I don’t want to be away from home all day long.

I could write a book on education, and have, but for the same reason — a need for interaction, for a teaching opportunity that is alive — I am resisting that.

Social media would become the obvious answer of how to get a chance to teach remotely, except for the fact that I want human interaction.

And then I saw a sight by a person teaching the world about introversion and her method struck me as a possible answer to the challenge of keeping the teaching creative, alive.

The How of my Living Book for Teachers

Every week, I will send out a message on email, Facebook, LinkedIn, announcing a topic which invites educators to consider a question pertinent to teaching. If the topic interests them, they are further invited to read my answer to the question which I will have posted on my website, ahoyclassroomteacher.com

Readers will be invited to participate with their comments, requests, queries.

Each week, another question is asked and answered. The website becomes a living book sharing what I have learned during sixty years in a profession I am crazy about.

Making choices about “good enough”

Now, what has this got to do with the initial question, “When is it good enough?”

Each week I pose a question that I feel as an important answer attached. The answer I have learned by doing and the memory is strong and alive in my being. The answers to the questions posed each week pour out of me like maple syrup. In an hour or two I have a five page article of sorts which I upload to my website: ahoyclassroomteacher.com. I write a first draft which captures that particular piece of knowledge that I feel warrants a sharing.

Question — how much time should I spend on polishing the article?

My professional pride shouts, “Rewrite, get the words right!!”

My ticking clock whispers like a snake hiss coming from a tree in my garden, “Time is running out!” I remind myself to examine purpose! What is my purpose? Is it to share a lifetime of knowledge? Should I take the time to rewrite my first drafts, make them the best they can be?

That would mean less time for my animals, my garden, my writing of novels and poetry and scripts. It would also mean less time to share the multitude of ideas I am eager to share.

I decide the first draft will be “good enough”. The ideas are what is important. That’s what will satisfy my need to teach, my need to share what it’s taken me a lifetime to learn.

Perhaps it will satisfy my hope to leave something of myself behind.

Oh no! Am I sure it’s still “good enough”?

How would I like to be remembered? As a person who learned a lot in the magic time in the classroom and shared it with teachers everywhere, I professional development programs, in classrooms, in books and on the web?

Of as a person who prided herself on insisting always to do her best, which meant, checking things over carefully, making subtle changes to wording, strengthening ideas with specific examples, with just the right examples?

I feel confident that I am professional enough to do what writers do, we edit as we write. Because my essays are short and concentrate on one specific topic, I am going to risk using my draft form as the one I share. If I get feedback that this interferes with reader’s ability to take my ideas seriously, I may rethink my decision. But for right now… here goes. Including this first draft.