Back in January, I promised I would address the value of a slow life. I’ve been eager, yet patient, to write about this, particularly at this time in the year when I sense students are a little more open to slowness.

Recently, a student came in somewhat concerned that she had spent too long reading her PWR assignment.

“I could’ve read it in half the time, but I took a leisurely pace,” she told me, confused by my cheery smile. I think she was expecting me to scold her or agree that she shouldn’t have “wasted all that time.” But I’m a huge fan of the leisurely pace: I know my duck feet aren’t paddling quite as fast as everyone else’s, and that’s ok. Some days my paddling is fast and furious, but sometimes, I simply stop paddling and practically drift.

Now don’t get me wrong, I know how much time pressure figures into how students conduct themselves. There are lots of things that need to be done, and done well. There are countless opportunities to pursue, people to meet, knowledge to discover, friends to enjoy. But it seems to me that the attempt to crush an ever-expanding roster of activity into the never-expanding 24-hour day is madness. So I suggest not doing more.

GASP. Assumptions about the way the world works are unraveling! The concept of being a millennial student weirdly morphing! Sudden insecurity about what’s right and what’s wrong! New life plan. Chaos! Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. And let me explain.

Not. Everything. Has.To. Happen. Now. Nor does everything have to happen fast. And not everything that CAN be done fast SHOULD be done fast. Why? Because sometimes we miss things. Nuances. Subtleties. Little pieces of fulfillment. Unexpected creativity. If we always drive as fast as we can to get there, we don’t get to listen to as many songs on the radio. Think about it.

I asked my student who had taken her time reading for PWR what she had sacrificed by taking her time, and she couldn’t think of a thing. She had lost nothing and gained much in her decision to slow down. She could have read faster and gone out with friends. She could have read faster and started on the rest of her pile of homework. But in that moment, the pure value rose up of reading, thinking, savoring, enjoying, reflecting…

Back in the day, there was a commercial for Heinz Ketchup about how cool it was that it takes for-eh-ver to come out of the bottle. Slow is good, because when it comes to ketchup, you want it thick instead of runny.

Nowadays, ketchup is more of a projectile affair, spurting multi-directionally from a flexi-foil pouch. True, it’s handy. And portable. But it gets all over the place and has a bit of a foil-wrap aftertaste. I vote for the slow moving ketchup. I vote for stopping and smelling the roses (I actually do this). I vote for taking time to breathe and think, allowing the mind to wander. Because it’s usually when I’m wandering that the good ideas come to me. Going slow was how I learned how to play the piano. It’s how I learned how to write. It’s how I now figure out what students are saying to me, and it’s how I construct suggestions that I hope will help them be better students.

As always, stay calm and stay tuned.

Next time: From Ketchup to Catch-up: Plowing through massive amounts of reading