Al Gore Rhythms & The Sliding C
Episode 10:30:2023 - Prompt: Praise
Where Praise took me…
I had a conversation with a friend who is not comfortable being on social media.
She told me about a new follower on IG. Someone well-known in her industry and her attempt to strike up a dialogue about said industry with this new Follower.
My friend was ghosted.
I’m not a social media guru, but I have a handle on how much to give, how much to hold back, how much to care and not care.
It’s a dance of veils.
My advice was to never give away insider information about a project or a job or an opportunity unless it’s to a trusted friend.
No award-winning stranger hiding behind a profile pic deserves such candor.
What does this have to do with PRAISE?
I wanted to use the title Al Gore Rhythms because that’s what I call ALGORITHMS.
And in some way, algorithms are stimulated by forms of digital praise…
Followers, Likes, Hearts, Shares, Recommends, Subscribers.
One thing I’ve learned on Substack. The number of Hearts for this post is not as important as the number of Opens.
Or, the direct messages I get from Subscribers about something I’ve written.
Engagement is where it’s at.
Now imagine Al Gore dancing. Man ain’t got no rhythm.
Which brings me to praise and the lack thereof…
I was oblivious to academics and sports.
Which means any scholastic form of praise in middle school and high school was nil.
Notice my use of “middle school” instead of junior high school and high school instead of “upper school”.
This is the borderline of public & private education on the East Coast.
Middle School and Upper School are private.
Junior and High School are public.
I went to both. And both were all-girls.
In LANGUAGE, I wrote about the awkwardness of moving from Michigan to Maryland.
My rhinestone-studded, skin-tight Gloria Vanderbilts confounded the LL Bean world I was entering.
As an outcast, I still had a crew of friends.
Outcasts, not dorks.
Big difference. This was the early 80s.
My friend, Hilary S., and I were always in trouble together. We were equally bad in class, and we found everything funny.
But the sliding grade of C in History was not funny, according to our teacher.
Mr. F was a good looking guy for his time.
That 70’s Wallabee suede shoe, tight brown cords, tie without a jacket, kind of wispy blonde hair, mustache sexy.
We were an all-girls population. He couldn’t help being giggle-worthy.
Thing is, Mr. F was a really nice person. He sincerely wanted us to do well, and he saw Hilary S and me failing due to ambivalence more than ignorance.
Mr. F offered to tutor us in preparation for a big test. I’m not sure if we met him during lunch or a free period, but I do remember sitting in the classroom and going over material from the textbook.
And laughing. He made it fun.
Both Hilary S. and I passed the test. We may have even scored A’s. Or could have been B’s. Definitely a tick up in our ranking.
I had no idea how good it would feel to do well on a History test. I was expecting some kind of Praise from our peers who knew we weren’t doing well.
Instead, one girl started a rumor that Hilary S and I had sex with Mr. F for our grades.
Like a long pin stabbed into our pride balloon, not only did the rumor suggest we weren’t smart enough to get the grade, but that we were sluts.
The rumor stayed small and was snuffed out quickly on its own. There was never a parent/teacher conference or anything that involved administration or adults.
It was just enough to make us feel ashamed.
What did I learn?
I am responsible for my own sense of accomplishment and should not look outside myself for validation… a hard one to remember.
I left private school for public school a few years later where I was praised by my 11th grade US History teacher for selling the most chocolate bars for her church.
An effort that definitely helped my grade.
YOUR TURN: PRAISE is a really nice word. I’m not sure there’s a way to make it ugly… unless you live in Margaret Atwood’s Gilead.
Do you find a way to praise someone or something every day?
How do you praise your own successes? A recipe well-executed?
An illness well-fought?
An exchange with a loved one that makes them feel good?
Share your PRAISE story in 150 - 200 words.
POST IT IN THE COMMENTS SECTION.
Click the HEART when you read a post so the writer knows to read yours.
Heart = Heard.
Don’t comment on my or other people’s stories.
For more about the rules & intention of this Zine, check the About page.
Want to publish in TPYL Zines’s Anthology series?
The Zine will live on its own website (URL) separate from Substack. There are no submission or reading fees. The only prerequisite is active participation (4 post minimum) in the TPYL Substack community in a 4-month period.
The first anthology with artwork is already underway with 40 Contributors!
More info in the Forum!
Happy writing!
Praise is usually given out for a job well done right? I recently told my husband he did a good job ob a piece of furniture we restored. I joked with him telling him he would get a bonus. I praised a one of my assistants at work that he did a great job reseting the sales floor. I believe he appreciated hearing. Its easy to praise others for work they do. "Good job, I appreciate it." See simple. I think of praise as a compliment. I try to praise myself often. It doesn't come as easy as praising others does.
I’m well on my way to writing 52 short compositions in a single year, thanks to this forum. Praise be to “That Place You Love”, to putting it out there. Telling true stories takes guts and determination. A tiny ripple in the pond.
I have always loved to write. Throughout high school, I was a “reporter” for the school section of the local paper, The Lamoni Chronicle. After graduation, I was accepted to the University of Iowa to become a journalist. In lieu of Iowa City, I chose to take a year off and backpack throughout Europe. The world suddenly opened wide. I was never to return. I kept up writing until the habit gave way. Slowly, the desire to compose story was lost. Until this year.
You are giving us an invaluable service. A true sharing. Praise to everyone who reads, writes, and shares at That Place You Love.