Welcome to the Wakefield (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
First off, let us say, ‘Hey, this (reprint) it was written way back in, like only second-and-a-half year of writing this (or any!) blog’.
Second off, ‘We stand by the story.’
Third thing: ‘And that is the value of learning and applying the principles of our little personality theory’.
See, the thing is, we’re all experiencing the world around us and the people who make it up in one of three characteristic relationships:
- as the Outsider(clarks) relate themselves, apart from, non-definably different, and driven to learn what everyone else appears to know…while remaining (mostly) un-noticed
- the Predator(scotts) range the open world, chasing prey and being chased, living the day as much as possible with as little doubt or reservation (as possible)
- the Herd Member(rogers) while knowing that all they is experience is good and sufficient, there is a need to learn the Best Way and to share that at as many others as possible.
We act and react appropriate to the world we live in.
So to the ‘lesson’ at the top of this post.
As a clark, I would normally, (sans Doctrine), look at the old post and, while smiling in fond recollection of actually writing and posting it, cringe at the feeling, (you know, the tightening of the shoulders that comes when you realize others are watching), that maybe it was a little over the top, too childishly emotive and unsophisticated. The thought comes, ‘You’ve gotten so much better at your writing in the intervening 13 year… maybe keep looking for a different reprint’.
But the Doctrine, taken to heart, reminds me that there are other clarks in the world who would feel the same in a similiar situation. And, (the Doctrine), reminds us that, despite there being only ‘one actual reality’ I am heir to ‘the other two’. I then benefit by my reading and learning about the world (the relationship, if you will) the Predator and the Herd Member experience. How, if they were to come across an old post, they would experience it differently.
Outa time…. too bad, ’cause we were just about to tie it all together! oh well, guess you gotta keep readin’ and learnin’ and such
St Valentine was he a roger or was he a clark, the Wakefield Doctrine deals with the important questions of the day
February 14, 2012Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine ( the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers )( psst! yeah, you! anyone looking? I’m supposed to be working on the Wakefield Doctrine book… I promised that I would stop with the nearly every day Posts so that I could apply what little energy I have to putting content down on paper. Long story, that’s not important now… what is important is today is Valentine’s Day! And there is not a single person out there who writes a blog that can resist the obvious appeal of such a… a contrived, culturally supported, private interest initiated “holiday” as Valentine’s Day. So a quick, totally self-indulgent Post and then back to work… if Ms. AKH or Molly asks… tell them you haven’t seen me….)
St Valentines is the worst, most contrived and cynical, gyno-centric guy-bait(ing), toy-with-the-emotions-of-innocent-bystanders, holiday on the whole damn calendar. Of course we are all familiar with the origin of the holiday and the internet is positively turgid with countless blogs, and stories and articles that tell us all about Hallmark and the candy industry and the rest of the sordid tale of this day in February. I will not try to compete with these other more skilled and capable Commentators ( and -torinis), as I do not have the time or the ‘writing chops’ to do such a ripe topic justice. Instead, let me tell you about my most lasting memory of Valentines Day.
Third grade, parochial school (St. Imelda*) and a classroom of 25 students. The boys were required to wear blue shirts and blue ties with OLM printed on the front, fortunately ‘clip-on ties’ had been invented by this time, so easy-peasy; the girls wore the catholic school uniform, i.e. plaid skirts white shirt, socks. damn, little did I realize at that pre-pubescent time of my life how potent that little Roman Catholic Church fashion dictates would become for me and countless other men at a later stage of life. (In fact, I am feeling the tug on the cynical side of my writing-self, there is something about the whole, church-sexual-abuse-dress-the-children in outfits destined to become so hawt… lol sorry, again I lack the time or the writing skill to do justice to a topic like this… back to the story.)
So with much fanfare, Valentine’s Day arrives and we 9 year old boys and girls are told that in the afternoon, before the end of the school day, we would have time to deliver our Valentine cards to each other. ( The day before we spent ‘Art Period’ making little baskets out of construction paper and taping them to the front of our desks. These would serve as ‘mailboxes’ for the cards we would receive the next day).
The thing was, the horrible twist to this introduction to the world of love, relationships and rejection was that, the time when class stopped and we were allowed to get up and deliver our little cards was not the end of the school day! It was right after lunch… and it lasted 15 or 20 minutes…as in ‘ now return to your desks and we will continue with the afternoon’ classes’. To sit for 90 minutes staring at the contents of the container on the front of my desk… I will leave it to the Reader to decide the emotional landscape of that afternoon on a February 14th.Anyone out there not comfortable with finishing the story, or satisfied with their conclusion of this little tale, write us a Comment! Regular Readers know that the rogers gave the biggest cards, the scotts received the most cards and the clarks delivered the most cards….secretly without the recipient ever knowing who the really fun card came from…
Now I better get back to work, before I get in trouble.
*who totally twisted my life… don’t ask
*
I don’t remember giving or getting Valentine’s cards in grade school.
I do remember eating my allotment of sugary hearts instead of giving them to others. Makes me the worse kind of Roger.
Happy Valentine’s Day Clark.
Every school i or my children ever attended required you bring a card for every other child in the class, no matter what. Class of 25, you came home with 24 store-bought cards, each signed with a name only. Boring and a way to insure no feelings were hurt.