Contradictions

This morning I read two things that irritated me and one that made me laugh.

The first irritation came from a blog post where the author wrote: "The tragedy of the to-do list is it was created by the person you were yesterday. What would it be like to drink from a deeper well based upon who you are today?"

In what context is this based? Yes, my to-do list was created by the person I was yesterday — but the tasks are ones I need to do today. If I don't write them down, I will forget, and there are consequences to forgetting. The deep well I need to drink from today is the two IEP meetings I have to attend, and that is a gift from my previous self. On a Saturday, Sunday, or vacation, sure — I can move away from a to-do list. But day to day, I am not in that position.

For me, the to-do list isn't a tragedy. It's an act of love from yesterday's Steven to today's Steven, making sure the kids and families I serve don't get forgotten in the shuffle.

The second irritation was a book title: Competence Is More Important Than Confidence. Of course it is — but again, in what context?

I am a confident person. But if I roll into a hospital and decide I can perform a psych exam without any competency, that's delusion. On the flip side, when I was rolled into the OR for my colonoscopy several years ago, I expected the person performing it to be competent — but if he had told me beforehand that he was scared, afraid, and worried about whether he'd be successful, his high competency wouldn't have made me feel any better. I wanted both. Competence and confidence.

And then there was the laugh.

An article popped up about teens doing what's called a "speed dash" through the Scientology building — running through in costume, posting it to TikTok. I had to see it for myself. So I went, and there they were: a group of teens, one dressed as Jesus, throwing open the doors and just sprinting through the lobby.

I laughed out loud. And then immediately felt ashamed.

Scientology is calling it a hate crime and asking for arrests. The behavior is, by any honest measure, completely inappropriate. And there I was, chuckling on my couch.

But here's where my mind went next: I'm glad my son plays video games. Because here is a pretty good argument that kids aren't just sitting in front of screens. They're getting out. They're being creative. They're being kids — even if it's misguided creativity, even if it crosses a clear line.

So am I a bad person for laughing?

This is exactly the kind of moment where the inner critic shows up swinging. You shouldn't have laughed. You preach human-first leadership and then giggle at trespassing teens. Hypocrite.

But again — in what context?

I can hold two things at once. I can find something funny and recognize it was inappropriate. I can be glad kids are touching grass and wish they'd chosen a different target. I can laugh first and reflect second. That's not moral failure. That's being human.

I know creating false dichotomies is how the world works. It attracts attention and generates debate. To-do lists vs. deeper wells. Competence vs. confidence. Kids on screens vs. kids in trouble. Good people vs. people who laugh at the wrong things. All of it is designed to sound profound on a Tuesday morning scroll — and it does, right up until you stop and ask the simple question: in what context?

That question might be the most underrated leadership tool I've got. Special education has taught me that nothing is one-size-fits-all. An IEP that fits one student is malpractice for another. A leadership move that works in one school will sink another. Wisdom without context is just a Pinterest quote.

So as for me, I'll keep my to-do lists. I'll keep working to align my confidence and competence. And yes — I'll laugh when something is funny, and trust myself to do the reflecting afterward. The deeper well isn't out there waiting for me to discover it. It's the daily work of showing up — for the people I committed to yesterday, with all my contradictions intact.

There's one line I go back to from a poem I read in high school. Walt Whitman, Song of Myself:

Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Where in your life are you holding two things that seem to contradict each other — and what would change if you stopped trying to resolve the tension and simply let yourself contain both