But what of the less obvious of these behaviors? What of the aspects of daily life that are not generally seen, overtly recognized or otherwise reinforced? These can be equally important—crucial even—for lives of integrity and productivity.

Do thoughts and self-regard remain humble in the wake of praise? Is gratitude present no matter how hard the work, how deserving the reward? Is conduct that recognizes and embraces others a natural part of every day, of each interaction?

These are among the keys to lives that make a meaningful difference, not spare behaviors that offer little by way of concrete contributions. On the contrary, those aspects of life that draw little attention can be among the most gratifying.

What we do when no one is looking can be far more revealing than when the cameras are turned on, the people are watching, the actions are scrutinized. Ultimately, everything is uncovered and laid bare; how we account for ourselves can either be a source of stress or peace. Why not simply choose the latter?

The consequences are invariably rewarding.

It seems to be human nature to stay with what is familiar—even if painful or counterproductive. Most of us have had the experience of staying in a job too long or hanging on to a relationship that is no longer supportive. I’ll spare you my complete litany and just share one story.

For 8½ years, I worked as a clerical employee for the FBI (yes, the Federal Bureau of Investigation). I was a stenographer and then a secretary. During my first seven years, many FBI agents told me I should go to college and become an agent. I always brushed off those suggestions.

Attempts to change my mind often included pointing out agents who messed up somehow, and saying things like, “If he can be an agent, so can you.” I believe people thought I was afraid I would not succeed in college or as an agent, and I thought that for a while, too.

At some point, though, I realized that I was comfortable with my job and identity. My parents were very proud of me, and I had many good friends in the Bureau. I could do my job without much effort, and had lots of free time after work for other pursuits. Although I had not gone to college, I had always taken pride in the fact that I was very well read. Change, and even success, would mean a whole new identity, and that scared me more than anything. I could not imagine who this new person would be.

I did eventually go to college but did not return to the FBI. Once I had let go of my identity as high-school graduate/FBI secretary, I became open to opportunities I had not been able to envision.

Many of the people who come to the Literacy Council are working through similar identity dilemmas. For many of them, negative messages have shaped how they see themselves and the world.  Even though they know their limited literacy skills are holding them back, imagining a new identity and different way of life is not so easy. They come to us with hopes of something else, but usually don’t know or can’t say what that means.

Each adult who comes to us is asked, “What is your goal?” “To read better,”  “to speak English” or “to get my GED” are common answers. If pushed, “To what end?” there is usually no answer.

Dare people even imagine getting a job in a field they love? Can they voice the dream that might be deeply buried?

It is most often the tutors who discover the yearnings of students’ hearts. They build positive relationships in which lifetimes of negative messages are replaced with affirmation and praise. Over time, the fear is replaced with trust and confidence, invariably accompanied by meaningful progress.

One of the classrooms in my junior high had an Abraham Lincoln quote framed and hung on the wall: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.”

I always thought it an odd quote to have in a classroom because I did not see how I could learn anything if it was foolish to speak up. But I read that quote every day and it did a good job of keeping me from asking questions or offering answers.

I am sometimes reminded of this quote when I observe our adult literacy tutoring sessions. I think that many of our adult learners probably read the same quote—or were silenced by other means. At some point in their lives, they equated asking questions and learning with being put down or made to feel foolish, and so they kept quiet.

Many of the adults who come to the Literacy Council have huge gaps in their knowledge.  They may not know how our government works or how many states make up the United States. World geography can just be foreign to them. Even ordinary things like weights and measurements may be unfamiliar territory.

For most of us, the early school years lay the groundwork for our education and we then build on that base. Many of our students lack such a foundation and have to start at the beginning. It can be humiliating to have to acknowledge that lack of the basics. It can also look like an insurmountable task.

Yet by the time they muster the courage to seek help, these adults know they must start asking questions if they want their lives to change.

I think I would rewrite Mr. Lincoln’s admonition to something like: “Better to ask questions that may seem foolish than to remain in ignorance.”

What happens after you get laid off from that desk job, the one that was doable and steady but never all that exciting? Or perhaps you just had your fill of getting the morning coffee, going in to the office each day, fulfilling your responsibilities with efficiency if not much enthusiasm, and eagerly awaiting that lifeline and timeline du jour: 5 o’clock.

To be able to turn a static life into one of stimulation and achievement is not an easy leap, and often requires courage to live with the resulting uncertainty. But provided that health is not an issue (a circumstance never to be taken for granted, especially among the younger generation to whom death is a mere mask), why not use the layoff notice or cubicle boredom as a springboard? Why not make the jump into something that enhances, that enables a real contribution rather than the contrition that often accompanies the status quo?

Yes of course, there are many office jobs that provide creativity and camaraderie, paychecks and perks, benefits and brainstorms. By all means, go with them and make the most of the resulting opportunities that can be both plentiful and tangible.

But for those who fall within the elevator’s lower floors, take heed and hope. Press the buttons of your personal enthusiasms. Watch the double doors open and walk confidently outside.

There is kaleidoscopic life after that office job.

But the truth is that they have learned a great deal. They have often mastered a field involving manual labor or learned a skill as an apprentice. They usually work at something that does not require much reading or writing.

They have also developed all kinds of techniques for covering up their low literacy skills; I marvel at the ingenuity of some of their coping mechanisms.

As adults, we are all learning new things every day, whether it is from watching a TV show, reading a book or surfing the web. What we don’t do is take the time to mark our learning experiences, to say, “I have learned something today.” But I am sure that each of us can look back over the last week and name at least three things we have learned.

What we are learning on a day-to-day basis may not be life changing, but it is still learning. This kind of learning just sort of happens, in a non-structured way and without much effort on our parts.

Then there is the more formal learning—attending a workshop, taking a class or pursuing a degree. This kind of learning requires a commitment and usually some changes to our daily routines.

For the adults who come to us for help, their learning is the latter type. They have to commit to attending tutoring sessions at least twice a week for an hour and a half each time and doing homework. They have to carve out time from lives full of work and family responsibilities.

Last summer I went to Poland; upon returning I began to study Polish. I bought a computer-based language program and spent at last one-half hour a day learning Polish. I had to make some adjustments to my daily routine to fit in my lesson and did that willingly.

Two months later, I got a new puppy and had to make more adjustments to my daily schedule. I hadn’t anticipated the amount of time this puppy would take up, but quickly learned that something had to give.

My Polish lessons shifted from one-half hour every day to an hour on Saturday and Sunday; supplemented by listening to a Polish CD when driving. I am still intent on learning Polish; only my method and timetable have changed.

My experience with studying Polish has given me a new insight into how difficult it is to squeeze one more thing into my already-full days. No matter how strong my desire, I just cannot always give as much of my time or energy to Polish as I want.

For our students, the demands on their time may be new jobs or the opportunity to work extra hours. It may be new responsibilities with children or grandchildren or having to take care of a sick relative. They are in the same predicament as I am with my Polish—they want to improve their literacy skills, yet family and other obligations impinge on their time.

I am committed to learning Polish—and to being more compassionate toward our students who need to make adjustments to their timeline for improving literacy skills.

So, it turns out, I am good at one aspect of this job—training people.

Whenever someone applies to become a canvasser, they spend their first day observing one of the existing staffers. That day dictates whether or not they get hired. Their trainer pretty much gives the thumbs up or thumbs down as to whether the trainee gets invited back the next day.

Well, last week, I was assigned my very own observer for the first time. I’m the newest to canvassing in the office, so I hadn’t expected Hannah to entrust me with this important role. But hey, she makes plenty of decisions I don’t understand. So there I am, not even good at canvassing on my own—according to boss lady, at least—but I’m teaching a newbie how to do it.

Well, here’s the funny thing: I rock at training. All the confidence in my abilities that Hannah has robbed me of comes rushing back to me when I’m training. Suddenly I’m back to being really excited about the job. Somehow needing to be a good example makes me the best example: I have more energy when I’m out hitting doors, I know exactly what to say and how to say it when potential donors ask me questions, and I just develop a whole other persona—one that knows precisely how much encouragement to give, enthusiasm to ooze and advice to bestow.

It’s like… it’s like I’m acting. But it’s a role I’ve never seen the script for and yet I know all the lines. You know how they say, “Those who can’t do, teach.” I’m starting to think it’s true. Not that I believe I’m as bad at this job as my supervisor thinks, but I know I’m not great at it. But I am great at this.

OK, maybe I should clarify. My trainee who was just hired hasn’t had any time yet to prove if she’s going to be a great canvasser. So when I say I’m great at training, I’m not guaranteeing that my trainees will rock this job. What I’m saying is, I am good at making the job seem appealing to our potential employees; when I’m on my game, canvassing seems really fun and not that difficult and hanging out with the staff seems fun and… my trainees, after a day with me, hope to get hired. I consider that successful training.

That said, I sure hope my trainee becomes a solid canvasser. It would really reflect well on me, and I could use some good reflections.

Credit-card companies, for example, began peddling Gold cards in the 1980s as a way to distinguish the truly elite from the merely creditworthy. The 1990s brought Platinum cards. The 2000s even saw Titanium cards. Will the 2010s offer a Palladium card? Can a Rhodium card be far behind? And will an Iridium card grant to access to Mars, having bought everything else our earthly life could imagine?

Just once I’d like to open my mail and receive a solicitation for an Aluminum card. To be sure, credit cards can be exceptionally useful, even indispensable in some quarters, but they are a tool, not an end. Security manifests itself in many ways, financial security reasonably among them, but as we cannot take it with us, does it make sense to devote lives to its accumulation at the expense of more lasting achievements and contributions, from children and families to communities and social innovation?

Humility and gratitude are the ideal foils to mercenary behavior. Sure, the stained glass in your home’s solarium is stunning, the oceanfront condominium glorious, the Mercedes 700-series a sanctuary, the five-star restaurants indulgent…. But set up a foundation, work for a nonprofit, raise families with integrity to the core—then discover the true meaning of precious mettle.

After I solicited ideas from everyone, the group wanted to go out and try. “Not yet,” I said. “This is molten lava and we need to make sure our plan is foolproof.” Of course, the exercise was timed and the minutes slipped away while we studied the task. When we were ready to try something carefully planned, the time was almost up. Then we failed and many fell into the “lava” despite our schemes, foolish rather than foolproof!

Afterward, we debriefed and our facilitator used an expression I have come to love: “analysis paralysis.” What does it mean? My fellow fellows know it well from experience. It means thinking too much and letting “the perfect” become the enemy of “the good.”

Today I see signs of analysis paralysis everywhere in life. There are too many smart people out there who can predict all of the things that might go wrong with any plan proposed by anyone from anywhere. They study the mistakes people make so they can warn others. These people suffer from a sort of curse: the belief that not making a mistake is equal in value to getting something accomplished.

Change in human systems is almost never pretty. It does not play out like a well-rehearsed ballet or a beautiful symphony performed by a professional orchestra. No, change is ugly. Really ugly. Real progress is painfully slow, full of errors and false starts. To make meaningful gains requires us to dive in and try, then fix things as we go along. Delaying action just delays the inevitable process of making and fixing mistakes.

People looking for the perfect plan really don’t understand the world they inhabit. Here is the problem: While you plan, the world changes. While you execute your plan, the world changes. And meanwhile, you change as well. So no matter the time spent preparing, you need to be ready to change your plan anyway. Then why spend inordinate amounts of time making detailed plans? Millennia ago, Heraclitus said that one cannot “step twice into the same river.” The river you planned to cross is not the one you cross. The “you” who planned to cross is not the “you” who crosses.

Also, there are so many things that you don’t and cannot know until you are in the middle of actually doing a task. To study an obligation, to look at it out in the future, is just never the same as the experience of actually doing it in the present moment. You have to roll up your sleeves, dive in and make adjustments as you go along. You only really know the river once you are actually in it.

The world has way too many Monday-morning quarterbacks. Sigh. I really detest such people. They rarely attempt to do anything themselves. What they like to do is stand on the riverbank screaming advice to the people trying to make a crossing. When those brave hearts fall in, these people laugh, criticize and explain the mistakes of the wet ones.

It is so obvious from the dry riverbank. They can see it so clearly. But invite one of the critics to come out and try to make a crossing. “No, no,” they will usually explain. “I’m an expert. I don’t actually cross the river. I tell you how to do it. Then I point out your mistakes.” Real creators and innovators don’t pay much attention to these people. They know that there is a huge difference between those who do and those who stand by, watching and criticizing.

Our public policy today in many arenas—healthcare, education, economic development, foreign policy and so on—has been brought nearly to a standstill by people who would rather explain than do, who would rather criticize than commit, who would rather evaluate than achieve, who would rather measure than make, who would rather study than create. Our visible leaders too often are men and women who believe that talking about progress is a viable substitute for achieving it. They would rather be right than fail in a sincere effort. So many fans, so many commentators, so many coaches and referees… but where are those with the courage to go out and play?

The forward motion of human society requires a generation of courageous leaders willing to ignore the peanut gallery and to press on with flawed actions in the muck and mire of real life. We need more leaders willing to make mistakes, to get dirty, to be wrong and yes, to fall into the stream and die in the molten lava if need be.

I live near Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, and sometimes go there in the winter when it’s nasty and cold. The place is not famous as the site of a victory in battle or any single great event. It’s the place (you history buffs may remember) where Washington and his troops suffered and licked their wounds in the middle of the American Revolution. They were on the ropes after a series of major defeats, and for a time it seemed to Washington that the army might even disband. I like to imagine him there in the snow full of uncertainty, freezing to death, the outcome unsure, praying for the strength to move forward against extremely difficult odds.

I have learned from experience that this is the general posture of people who make a difference in causes that matter. So here is the good news: If you are feeling a sense of looming defeat, if you are standing steady in the focal point of great criticism, if people are laughing at you and explaining your failures, it may mean that you are struggling in a task of great importance, that you may well achieve something significant.

But don’t think about this too much… it’s time to get wet.

There are many emotions I expected to experience when graduating college—happiness, excitement, trepidation, fear, sadness—but misery did not make the short list. If anything, I swore to myself that I would never, ever again work a job that made me hate my life (my college job had me pulling out my hair five days a week… for three and a half years). So I have been on the verge of issuing my two-weeks notice for a while now.

But this is “real life.” I can’t just quit jobs willy-nilly. I need to be rational in my decision-making. So, like the nerd-at-heart that I am, I sat down and made a list of all the positives and negatives for my current job.

And so, here it is!

The Fund for Public Interest Canvass Staff Cons/Pros

Cons

1. The commute: I drive approximately 75 miles per day, five days a week. I get an average of 35 miles to the gallon, with a 12-gallon gas tank, so that comes to…(Hey, my mental math is slow. I was an English major)…  about one tank a week. Not bad. But if gas costs an average of $2.70/gallon, and I get paid every other week, I’m using about 1/8 of my paycheck just driving to and from the place at which I earn my paycheck. I’d be willing to take a significant pay cut just to be within walking/biking distance from my job so I can save that money for ramen or toilet paper.
2. The hours: We work 1:45 p.m. to 9:15 p.m. The commute is 35 minutes, plus time to find parking. So I am out of the house from 1 o’clock to 10 o’clock. I don’t get to watch Jeopardy anymore. I haven’t cooked dinner in weeks. My time at home is spent sleeping. I don’t enjoy that.
3. The lack of logic: The Fund is located in Ann Arbor, MI, west of my home. Last week we canvassed in Birmingham, MI. This week we’re in Beverly Hills. Those cities are east of my home—and significantly nearer to my home than the office. Am I allowed to meet the rest of the canvassing staff on the east side? No. No, I’m not. I am required to drive west, just to carpool back east past my house to our canvass turf. Come shift’s end, we carpool back west again past my house, only so that I can hop back in my car and drive to my house! Stupid!
4. Even worse hours: With this new and ridiculous driving situation, I haven’t gotten home until 11 p.m. or later this past week. It is absurd that I’ve eaten dinner while watching Jon Stewart. Outrageous even.
5. Hannah: We got a new boss. She’s a tiny sprite of a gal with orange hair and a thirst for power. Her dictatorial ways have the veteran canvasser (see Pros) in the office against her, so I’m sure she won’t last five more minutes, let alone another month, but she is making my already annoying job impossibly intolerable: any confidence I once had in my abilities is gone as she questions my every word choice; she talks down to me, disrespects me as a person and then threatens to can me if I don’t get my average up, even though I’m bringing in just as many donations to the organization as she is. She is going to have a bloody coup on her hands.
6. The Cold: (Yes, I meant to capitalize “cold”: it is no longer a temperature; it is a spiteful, conscious entity working towards my destruction.) Traditionally, I love winter. I sing “Let It Snow” from September through April. That said, I am so sick of mittens and knit caps. I never want to wear long johns ever again. I hate traipsing through the cold, wet Michigan winter every day.

Pros

1. The exercise: All the walking I do in this job has my jeans fitting nice and loose. If I stick this out, I could be in bathing-suit shape by May.
2. Ann Arbor: What can I say? I may be a Spartan, but just because my rival school is located in Ann Arbor doesn’t mean I can’t like the city. The stores, eateries, cool arts-and-crafts-style houses—it makes my soul happy.
3. The donors: Who can say they meet a dozen new people every day with whom they share values and interests? I can. I love the encounters I have every day: donors who want to talk conspiratorially about treatment of the environment, toddlers who greet me at the door and present me with their toys, sixth-grade boys who throw snowballs at me as I trek down the street, little old ladies who offer me tea. Love it.
4. The dogs: Some people shy away from a large, barking dog, but I love the furry critters that bound at me when their owners open the door to talk to me. I miss owning pets, but in this job, it’s like I live in a menagerie.
5. Robert: The veteran canvasser of the office is my only ally, and what an ally he is. He looks out for me, telling me to stay home when the roads are bad and helping me to not feel guilty about taking a needed sick day. He doesn’t make me feel bad about myself, unlike the other Fund employees; on the contrary, he makes me feel good about myself on a daily basis. And he just makes the job… less than excruciating.
6. The pizza: Wednesday, there’s free pizza. Enough said.

Well, six to six. It’s a tie. But I still feel like the Cons are weighted more heavily. Still, I’m holding off on quitting until the decision is indisputably the right one.

Sigh. I guess I’m putting on my long johns and commuting tomorrow. Hope there are lots of pet owners on my turf.

So that knowledge and $6 will get you a cup of Starbucks, right? But add some vanilla and cinnamon in the form of what you really believe in and watch the price come down while your cup runneth over. This isn’t some pithy statement borne of over-caffeinated wishful thinking, but a universal truism that remains surprisingly lacking across industries and businesses both large and small.

Yet the contrary indicators abound. I was in Whole Foods last week and observed a young bagger in his 20s carry out his repetitive task with such enthusiasm and efficiency that I literally wanted to hire him on the spot. I gave Matt my card and asked him to check in with me in a few months.

At a Starbucks just outside of Philadelphia where I sometimes have informal business meetings, I’ve been struck with barista Vanessa’s clear dedication and charm with customers, whom she more often than not greets with their first names. Or at the Touraine, a 12-story landmark Philadelphia residence, where Andrea graciously watches over the front desk with comprehensive awareness and responsibility. I’d like to be able to hire them as well.

As the nonprofit journelism.org continues to grow and develop into a vibrant online community with singular content of meaningful consequence, I expect to be in a position to hire some of these people. We hear a constant barrage of negativity about the country’s employment situation, about record home foreclosures, about daily struggles just to put food on the table or pay the electric bill. But think about it: those willing to learn, eager to interact with the public, enthusiastic whatever the task at hand and reliable day in and day out will always be able to find work. And not just the kind of work that allows for a simple paycheck, but the kind of fresh pursuits for which they can’t wait to get to each morning.

The quality and nature of what we produce—the kind of productivity we live by—cannot help but sustain not only ourselves, but those we influence and come in contact with each and every day.