Motivating Others

MOTIVATING OTHERS

There was once a small boy who banged a drum all day and loved every

moment of it. He would not be quiet, no matter what anyone else said

or did. Various attempts were made to do something about the child.

One person told the boy that he would, if he continued to make so much

noise, perforate his eardrums. This reasoning was too advanced for the

child, who was neither a scientist nor a scholar.

A second person told him that drum beating was a sacred activity and

should be carried out only on special occasions. The third person

offered the neighbors plugs for their ears; a fourth gave the boy a

book; a fifth gave the neighbors books that described a method of

controlling anger through biofeedback; a sixth person gave the boy

meditation exercises to make him placid and docile. None of these

attempts worked.

Eventually, a wise person came along with an effective motivation. He

looked at the situation, handed the child a hammer and chisel, and

asked, “I wonder what is INSIDE the drum?”**

No more problem.

Good leaders know how to motivate others. They pique their curiosity

and tickle their sense of wonder. They teach them to dream and tempt

them to do more than they ever thought possible. They challenge them

to be a part of something great.

Pilot and author Antoine de Saint-Exupery said, “If you want to build

a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work, and

give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless

sea.”

Do that and there will be no limit to the wondrous places they can

travel.

__________

** Note: Personally, I don’t recommend giving these dangerous tools

to a young boy, no matter how naughty he might be! Perhaps a

WISER person will simply tell the boy to play the drum on certain

times and to respect the privacy (and eardrums) of others.

Usually, giving him another, less-noisy, toy will do the trick.- nr.

Poem for Papa

poem for papa

Jennee Grace U Rubrico
jenneegrace@edsamail.com.ph> wrote:
Date: Sat, 18 Aug 2001 10:51:36 +0800
From: “Jennee Grace U Rubrico”

To: ijr@rocketmail.com,
mryoso@yahoo.com,
joe@eee.dup.edu.ph
Subject: poem for papa

i was in a writing frenzy, and i wrote this poem
about papa.

papa, i hope you like it. heheheheheh…..

Jennee

The Engineer

Jennee Grace U. Rubrico

Looking at your blackened nails and the smudge on
your face-
The remnants of car grease, as you wipe off the
sweat on your brow,
Mark them to be manifestations of your car
tinkering-
and your soiled white shirt and threadbare socks,
make those who do not know you
think that you’ve always labored with your hands.

Like the father you have always been,
You always seem to know what to fix to cure your
car’s pains
As it whines and moans or throws a tantrum
Or just decides it doesn’t want to go anywhere.
And your skin, after all, has been glazed by the sun
over the years,
To come up with that perfect blaze of gold.

But they do not know the complexities that is you.
And if they look closer, they would see that those
hands
Are not callous, worn, or even hard,
Except for the finger that cradles the pen
And the fingertips that pounded on the typewriter
During those late night sessions with the
Masterplan.

Strewn paper with thin drawings in violet ink on the
desk,
Ringing phones, and the smashing of the typewriter
keys on carbon paper sandwiched between onionskin –
the sounds of your engine running at full throttle–
Are what I recall in that little home-office that
was your shop.

I saw the sputter of anger many times, in the sudden
acceleration of your work,
Or in its abrupt braking, when you felt that people
are too easily pleased with mediocrity.
But except for a breakdown or two, you always
Came back in “almost perfect” condition.
Though you really should not tire yourself that
much,
Even the best cars tend to slow down over the years.

Death once followed us at every turn, but you
steered us to safety
And to Life each time she tried to overtake us.
You did not fear the sudden shifting of gears when
we traveled around the country
So that you could earn a living and make sure that
the fuel tank never emptied.

From this, I learned strength and braveness.
And I learned that even while the rain
Hits at us, we can trust the strokes of the Wiper to
always make us see clearly
And the rubber in the tires to keep us safe in
slippery roads.

You never accepted “good enough,” always wanting
everything
To be in the best condition possible.
You examined and observed, analyzed, studied, and at
times, innovated
To find the optimum performance in each of us, and
in yourself.
And when it worked for us, it worked for you.

You are now more than half a century old, but the
engine keeps running.
In your mind, edicts and principles you learned in
the road that is life
run continually, fueled by your thirst to learn yet
more and your drive for life.

I hear the whir of your mind when you speak
And every word is suspended in the air
Its authority weighing on your apprentices
Even after you leave the room.

On day, I hope that you would start tapping the keys
of your typewriter
To write your manual to life
So that the ride you share with us would be known to
the world
And they too would see that you are not just a
mechanic,
But an engineer in life.

–To papa, with love.

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