Turning the Lens with DrT

_{2026-08-31 | Beyond “Don’t Stare”}

Is AI Changing My Writing?

Sat, 29 Aug 2026 03:03:32 GMT

This piece began as a Substack note posted five days ago about Pangram, Substack’s new AI-detection tool.

I posted the following due to my growing irritation with this new technology.

I have to say that I am increasingly frustrated with it.

For quite some time, my writing moved through Substack without an issue. Now, suddenly, I am seeing pieces of my work flagged as 50% or more AI-generated or AI-assisted.

I resent the implication!

I began writing professionally more than 30 years ago in business and technical writing, where clarity, structure, precision, and organization were expected. About 20 years ago, I moved deeply into academic writing, which brought with it another set of expectations regarding argument, evidence, organization, language, and tone. Along with all of this in academia, we must reference and cite, using whatever formatting style is required, all sources utilized.

You do that kind of writing long enough, and it changes the way you write.

Those habits do not simply disappear because I now have the freedom to write differently.

What I love about writing here is that I am no longer bound by the parameters of either business/technical writing or academic writing. My writing on Substack is freer. It is conversational. It wanders when I want it to wander. It sounds more like me.

But the writer producing it is still the same person who spent decades learning how to organize a thought, construct a sentence, develop an argument, and communicate clearly.

If Pangram is detecting some of those learned patterns and deciding that they look like artificial intelligence, then perhaps we need to be having a much larger conversation about what these detectors are actually detecting.

Polished writing existed before generative AI.

Structured writing existed before generative AI.

Clear writing existed before generative AI.

And experienced writers did too.

So, for the record: when you read my work here, you are reading a voice that has been developing for decades.

Apparently, now I have to add this disclaimer because an algorithm has decided that sometimes I sound too much like an algorithm.

And yes, I find that more than a little irritating.

How about you? Are you finding that Pangram is suddenly flagging more of your writing as AI-generated or AI-assisted, even when the writing is your own?

Those words, taken from my note posted here on Substack this past Sunday night, drew some attention.

Actually, what I had been writing up until this week had not drawn the comments I was hoping for.

Apparently, it took my ire getting up, my indignation getting recorded in words, and my sharing it with folks across the world to get a conversation going.

And what a conversation it became.

Just for the record, here is how Pangram scored my past eight essays, beginning with this past Wednesday:

54%
29%
45%
85%
17%
86%
0%
0%

I did not go back any further because this was enough to make me steaming mad.

My August 10 and August 12 essays were the last ones to receive Fully Human-Written.

I publish three times each week, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Which brings me to an uncomfortable thought.

I probably should run this essay through Pangram before I publish it.

And that irritates me almost as much as the scores themselves.

Because now the detector has entered the writing process.

That is different.

It is one thing for a piece of writing to be analyzed after I have finished it. It is another thing entirely for me to begin wondering, while I am writing:

Will this sentence look too polished?

Is this paragraph too organized?

Should I change that phrase?

Should I make my writing less precise so that an algorithm will believe a human wrote it?

And there is the problem.

If I begin changing the way I naturally write because I am worried about how an AI detector will score it, then AI really is changing my writing, even when AI did not write the piece.

Think about that for a moment.

A tool supposedly designed to identify artificial writing may actually begin influencing human writing.

That troubles me far more than an 85% score.

I do use AI.

I have made no secret of that.

I use it as a tool for research, comparison, brainstorming, and sometimes to help me work through an idea. I have written about both the benefits and the problems associated with AI.

But there remains a distinction between using a tool and turning authorship over to the tool.

Those are not the same thing.

And an algorithm that produces a percentage cannot necessarily tell us where that distinction lies.

Perhaps this is the larger problem with AI detection.

We have become so concerned about machines writing like humans that we have developed machines that are now suspicious of humans who write well.

That is quite a cultural turn.

So, what do I do?

Do I ignore the percentage?

Do I run every essay through Pangram before publishing it?

Do I rewrite sentences that are mine simply because an algorithm finds them suspicious?

Or do I continue writing the way I have learned to write over more than three decades and refuse to let an AI detector become my newest editor?

I think I know my answer.

But I am very interested in yours.

Anybody else experiencing this?

Anybody else as infuriated as I am?

And perhaps the bigger question:

Has an AI detector started changing the way you write?

For anyone wondering, Pangram scored the essay you just read at 73% AI-generated/assisted. Make of that what you will.

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❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-28 |}_{Is AI Changing My Writing?}

Ban It or Teach It?

Thu, 27 Aug 2026 02:42:34 GMT

Some colleges and universities are attempting to restrict artificial intelligence (AI), while others are encouraging professors to learn it, teach responsible use, and incorporate it.

This tension is worth considering because American institutions are responding quite differently to this technological change.

In the past, there was a push to incorporate new technology into the classroom as it became available.

Videos replaced film.

Whiteboards did away with the blackboard.

CDs came, then DVDs, followed by Blu-ray.

Document cameras replaced overhead transparencies.

PowerPoint took the place of the slide projector.

SmartBoards came into fashion, overtaking the whiteboard and document camera.

And let’s not forget Blackboard, Angel, and, thank goodness, Canvas.

I need to say something here. I absolutely hate discussion boards located within most learning management systems, such as Canvas. That opinion probably reaches back to my experience as a student when discussion boards were still relatively new technology. One of my professors added them as a course requirement midway through the semester. The problem was not simply that they were added midstream. The technology was new to all of us. She was still learning how to use it effectively, and so were her students.

It was, perhaps, a very good example of what can happen when new technology arrives in education before everyone has quite figured out what to do with it.

Ohhhh, but again, I digress.

Yes, folks, I have lived through this changing culture within our institutions. Certainly as a student, and more recently as an instructor.

This is my lived experience!

I have much to say. However, I will attempt to stay on point.

The push is real.

Institutions may insist that faculty adopt new technologies. Yet, in the case of AI, many institutions of higher learning appear to be living out a contradiction.

For decades, colleges and universities have told faculty to:

embrace technology,
innovate,
meet students where they are,
use the digital tools of the day, and
prepare our students for the present-day workplace and beyond.

Now, with AI, some institutions are essentially saying:

Not this technology!

And here we stand at a fork in the educational road.

Perhaps it is more like a three-way tug-of-war.

To help ferret this out, let me lay the cards on the table.

Some institutions are pushing faculty to adopt AI, or at the very least incorporate it somehow, some way.

Other institutions, departments, or individual professors are pushing hard against it.

Faculty themselves are caught between academic integrity, learning outcomes, institutional expectations, and the reality that students already have access to AI.

And there is another group we must consider: the students we are educating, who will be entering workplaces where AI savvy may increasingly be expected.

So the question becomes:

What responsibility does higher education have to prepare them?

Or,

is the real question:

Does banning AI actually teach students anything about using it ethically, critically, and intelligently?

Bear with me as I make my way through this challenging matter.

Perhaps we should begin with the overarching issue that many faculty members and institutions are being forced to weigh: how do we remain innovative and meet students’ needs while recognizing that there is a vast difference between the use and misuse of AI?

Consider the great invention of the calculator.

It can be used appropriately, or it can be used to avoid learning mathematics.

Search engines such as Google can support research, or they can produce lazy research.

AI can assist learning, or it can replace thinking.

The tool itself does not resolve that distinction.

Institutions of higher learning can prohibit a tool in a classroom.

What they cannot do, is to prohibit the world our students are graduating into.

What to do? Which folk do we take.

🤔
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❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-26 |}_{Ban It or Teach It?}

AI: Help, Hindrance, or Both?

Wed, 26 Aug 2026 02:18:48 GMT

Artificial intelligence (AI) is here, folks!

Love it or hate it, it is a part of our culture.

I, myself, have mixed emotions regarding this quite powerful tool.

I am in a love/hate relationship with AI.

I have no intention of taking a deep dive into AI. Let’s just hit some of the high(er) and low(er) points of this huge cultural change.

Arguments for its continued development are plentiful, to say the least. AI can be:

· Efficient: The time it takes me, a professional researcher, to gather a bit of comparative information for my personal use is generally measured in minutes, if not seconds. Compared with the time it takes me to Google pages and pages of results and then ferret out what is useful and what is useless, there is no comparison.

· Helpful in automating repetitive tasks: There is a particular template I use routinely. It saves me loads of time and lots of redundant work. This frees me up for me time. Humm, isn’t that part of efficiency?

· Productive and time-saving: This may sound redundant, but I am putting a bit of a different spin on it. Imagine needing to sort through gobs of data, whether qualitative (words) or quantitative (numbers). Enormous data sets can be analyzed much more quickly, which can also aid in making time-sensitive decisions.

· A potential aid in reducing human error: Then there is this! Do I agree? Ummmm … maybe. I keep coming back to the old adage we have heard since computers entered our everyday lives: garbage in, garbage out. Conversely, AI can work 24/7, 365 days a year. Try getting that kind of work out of yourself or your assistant. No overtime. No fatigue. No lunch hours. No vacations. No sick time.

On the flip side, the downfalls of AI are just as abundant as the pros, if not more so. AI may:

· Create job loss: With automation, there is always the possibility that traditional jobs and roles may be reduced, changed, or taken over by AI.

· Still be subject to human error: Yep! I covered this above. Garbage in, garbage out. The information produced by AI is only as good as the information it receives, whether that comes directly from humans or from data gathered elsewhere.

· Create privacy concerns: AI systems depend upon enormous amounts of information and many different types of data. Can some of that be sensitive data? You know it, girl! That raises real questions about what happens to information we consider private and how vulnerable we may become when that information is collected, stored, or shared.

· Lack empathy: This is true. AI cannot hold a candle to human beings when it comes to peopling. There are no genuine emotions involved. No lived experience. No true human empathy. And what about creativity, imagination, reasoning, or the ability to wrestle with ethical concerns? Those questions matter.

And let’s not forget the implications of AI for the potential growth and development of data centers.

I do not want to take a deep dive into this matter either, but here are a few things worth considering:

· Environmental concerns: Data centers produce substantial heat and may affect surrounding areas, particularly when many facilities are concentrated in one location. Water use is another concern, especially in communities already facing limited water resources. Some data centers require significant amounts of water for cooling. Where does that water come from when local reserves are already strained? Energy production associated with data centers can also contribute to carbon emissions when fossil fuels remain part of the power supply.

· Energy consumption: Massive power demand can place additional stress on electrical grids and raise questions about who ultimately absorbs the costs. Nuf said!

· Community backlash: Across the United States, residents have raised concerns about whether they are receiving enough information from local governments regarding proposed data centers. Questions may involve agreements with developers, tax incentives, infrastructure demands, land use, and the sale or rezoning of property.

In some communities, residents say they learned about projects only after plans were already well underway.

Once people begin asking questions, opposition can follow.

Folks may not want a data center in their neighborhood, in their town, or taking up farmland. Some communities and states have considered or adopted restrictions or temporary pauses while they examine the consequences.

It is no wonder!

So, where does that leave us?

AI can help.

AI can hinder.

And, perhaps most importantly, AI is forcing us to ask questions we did not have to ask before.

Alright, folks, use your voice, or I suppose let your fingers do the talking.

Can we have a productive conversation about this?

How are you using AI?

What concerns you about it?

And what, if anything, is happening with AI or data centers in your own community?

🤔
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✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-24 |}_{AI: help, Hindrance, or Both?}

Who Taught You What To Fear?

Sat, 22 Aug 2026 05:43:41 GMT

Unfortunately, my little poll did not exactly produce a nationally representative sample. 😄
No matter, onward!

Semester after semester, when I pose one specific question to my students, I almost always, definitely, positively get the same completely unofficial, wildly unscientific, remarkably consistent results.

Curious yet?

My methodological approach is simple . . .

One question.
Two choices.

The question:

What do you fear most?

The two responses:

Physical harm
or
Humiliation

How do you think my students respond?

Almost every semester, the results are hauntingly the same.

A bit of a hint: the responses essentially deal with what sociologists call social location.

Dr. James M. Henslin explains social location as the “corners of life” we occupy. More simply, it is our position within society based on things such as age, gender, race, social class, and a slug of other categories, but remember, we are keeping this simple.

These factors help shape our beliefs, values, ideas, experiences, and expectations. Together, they influence where we stand in the social world and, just as importantly, how we see it.

Perhaps you have heard the term worldview. If you understand that idea, you are already very close to understanding social location.

In addition to everything social location tells us about who we are and how we see the world, consider how it also shapes:

what we notice,
what we anticipate,
and what safeguards become so routine that we may not even realize other people were never taught them.

What did that person have to learn about the world that I never had to learn?

Case in point.

Soon after we were married, my beloved partner and I were planning a long weekend out of town.

Knowing I was the ultimate planner, and rather skilled at finding the necessary bargains without sacrificing comfort or well-appointed amenities, the itinerary was left in my able hands.

Later, while discussing our accommodations, I was asked, “Why would someone who is always trying to save money willingly pay $20 more a night?”

Mind you, I had already secured a fantastic nightly rate. However, next came the suggestion that we stay across town at an inn and save even more.

That is when I offered the following explanation:

When my daughter was young and the two of us traveled, we always stayed at a hotel with a lobby entrance.

Then came the reply:

“What? What difference does that make?”

Time to school this very smart individual.

Or perhaps intelligence had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson I was about to explain.

Follow me and see if you get where I am going.

My partner was seeing a cheaper rate.

At the inn, I was seeing an exterior door, a parking lot, nighttime movement between cars and rooms, and the vulnerability of an outside entrance.

We were looking at the same decision through different social experiences.

Getting it yet?

Let’s continue.

The reason I was willing to spend the extra $20 was not simply because I preferred an interior-corridor hotel.

It was because when I was traveling with my young daughter, I was thinking about both of our safety.

My partner was looking at the price difference.

I was looking at the vulnerability of walking directly from a parking lot into a motel room with a little girl.

After I explained all of this, he told me it simply had never been on his radar.

He was the father of three daughters. He was a loving and caring father. Yet he had never instinctively carried the same safety calculations I carried.

Instinct?

A lesson learned?

Back to my classroom poll.

Recall the one question:

What do you fear most?

The two responses:

Physical harm
or
Humiliation

My male students overwhelmingly choose:

Humiliation.

When I ask them to explain, they often mention fears of having their masculinity questioned or having a negative label attached to them.

For some young men, that means being labeled gay, feminized, weak, or somehow insufficiently masculine. The perceived threat is to their masculine status. Within certain forms of masculinity, humiliation or perceived “disrespect” can carry enormous weight.

Conversely, the overwhelming majority of my female students choose:

Physical harm.

When I ask the young women to explain their choices, what I hear most often is fear of rape or other forms of sexual violence being perpetrated against them.

WOW!

Sit with those results for a bit, folks, before we proceed.

Author and security specialist Gavin de Becker, who wrote The Gift of Fear, has argued that many men fear being laughed at or humiliated by a romantic prospect, while many women fear rape and death.

His larger point is that women are often socialized to anticipate physical and sexual danger, while men may be socialized much more strongly around status, humiliation, disrespect, and how they are perceived by other men.

There you have it.

This is socialization at work, teaching us what we need to know, what we should do, and what we are expected to avoid according to gender.

Women may learn:

Could I be hurt?

Men may learn:

Could I be humiliated?

Clearly, neither of these lessons is universal. Men can and do experience sexual violence. Women can and do experience humiliation, status threats, and challenges to identity.

The point is not that all men and women experience the world in exactly the same way.

The point is that gendered patterns of socialization can teach people to anticipate very different kinds of threats.

Back to MrT.

I explained to him, much as I do in class, that women often experience a much greater cultural expectation of sexual vulnerability and are socialized from girlhood to take precautions against sexual violence.

But what about MrT’s girls?

If he had never had to think about those precautions himself, how did they learn them?

His daughters may very well have learned those safety rules as they grew up, but he had never had to move through the world with those rules operating quietly in the background.

Somewhere along the way, his daughters learned the rules.

He simply never had to learn them himself.

This, my friends, is one example of how gender, as one aspect of social location, can shape the way we move through society. Put into practice, young girls are often taught these rules because the world has taught women to anticipate a particular kind of danger.

On the flip side, boys and men may learn that masculinity is something to be performed and protected. They watch, learn, and put into practice certain ways of walking, talking, and behaving that they learn are associated with being seen as a real man.

And gender is only one example.

Let’s turn the lens a bit and consider other aspects of social location that can influence the way we move through our everyday lives.

There are rules we learn because of race, class, gender, neighborhood, disability, and other parts of our social location.

Some people learn where to put their hands during a traffic stop.

Some learn never to walk alone to the car without scanning the parking lot.

Others may never have been taught either rule.

That difference itself tells us something about inequality.

However, inequality is for another day.

And, folks, I trust you are beginning to make the larger connection to social location.

Fear is not merely an individual emotion.

We are taught what deserves our fear.

We are taught which dangers to scan for.

We are even taught what kind of threat to our identity is supposed to matter.

So perhaps the question really should be:

Who taught you what to fear?

🤔
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❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-22 | Who Taught You What To Fear?}

My Mother Is Currently 100% of the Data

Wed, 19 Aug 2026 20:07:47 GMT

On Monday, I posted a poll connected to our conversation about safety and fear because I genuinely wanted to hear what you think.

It is now Wednesday afternoon, and the results are in.

Well, one result. ONE 😢

So far, exactly one person has responded.

My mother.

I love her dearly, and I appreciate her unwavering participation in my life. I know this is not exactly a scientific study, but even the loosest research standards suggest that I may need at least one participant who did not give birth to me.

So, instead of publishing a new essay today, I’m asking you to return to Monday’s post, think again about safety and fear, and cast your vote.

The poll is still open, and it will only take a moment. Your response will help broaden our conversation about what makes people feel safe, what creates fear, and how differently each of us may experience both.

Please help me expand this research sample beyond the woman who raised me.

To Vote on Monday’s Poll

And Mom - thank you for always showing up first.

🤔
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✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-19 | My Mother Is}

What Do You Fear?

Tue, 18 Aug 2026 03:34:18 GMT

We have traveled quite a distance together in these first 11 weeks. Thank you for coming along with me as I journey into new territory.

For more than 30 years, much of my writing has been technical, business, or academic. Writing this way is very different for me.

It is freeing.

I do not know how else to explain the satisfaction I receive from writing without always being bound by the rules of technical, business, and academic writing.

Enough about that.

Let’s get with it.

We have covered a lot of ground in less than three months.

We have chatted about being seen.

And being heard.

We agreed that being seen matters.

Being heard matters.

But neither means quite as much if we do not also feel safe.

So here is the question I want to put to you:

Do you feel safe?

I mean, do you really feel safe?

Because when we do not feel safe, fear enters the conversation.

Fear can take many forms. It is not always about physical danger. Sometimes it is about losing stability, losing connection, losing acceptance, losing health, or losing our sense of control.

So today, I am curious about something deeper:

What threatens your sense of safety the most?

I am placing a poll on Substack today, and I would very much appreciate your participation. I would also appreciate your reposting this article and encouraging others to take part in the poll and pass it along.

If you decide to cast a vote, you will see only the overall results. You will not see who participated or how anyone else voted. Likewise, others will not be able to see whether you participated or which response you selected.

The question is simple:

Which of the following most affects your sense of safety?

I am curious to see what we discover when we turn the lens toward something most of us probably think about more often than we admit:

What does it really mean to feel safe?

After you vote, please tell me why in the comments.

🤔
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✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-07 | What Do You Fear?}

Unsung? Perhaps. Unimportant? Never!

Sat, 15 Aug 2026 06:48:43 GMT

On Monday, we began with a reminder that service does not always come with a uniform, a title, or public recognition.

Sometimes, it is simply ordinary people stepping forward when someone needs them.

On Wednesday, we widened the lens to recognize many of the people whose work keeps our lives and communities moving, even though their contributions are often overlooked.

Where someone begins, or where society places that person on its social prestige scale, does not determine the influence that person may eventually have.

Consider Grace Lee Boggs.

Today, she is remembered as a philosopher, writer, civil rights activist, feminist, and community organizer whose work influenced generations.

She became especially known for her decades of grassroots organizing in Detroit and for helping establish Detroit Summer, an intergenerational program dedicated to rebuilding and strengthening communities.

Her path began with much humbler circumstances.

Born in Providence, Rhode Island, to Chinese immigrant parents, Grace Lee came of age as a Chinese American woman in a society that placed severe limitations on both women and people of Asian descent.

Although she had earned a doctorate in philosophy, racism and sexism severely limited her employment opportunities. She accepted a low-paying job in a university library and lived in a building that included the rat-infested basement in Chicago.

When she encountered residents of her building who were organizing against rat-infested housing, she joined them. That experience introduced her to grassroots organizing and brought her into direct contact with Chicago’s Black community.

Her involvement became a jumping-off point for more than seven decades of activism.

Dr. Boggs’s story reminds us that influence does not always begin in a prestigious office, with an impressive job title, or among people who already possess power.

At the time, she was Grace Lee, working in a library, and no one could have known what would grow from her decision to join that community effort.

Sometimes, influence begins when an ordinary person recognizes a problem, joins with others, and decides to do something about it.

Today, with that in mind, let us bring the lens closer and consider three groups of people whose essential contributions are too often overlooked:

sterile processing technicians,

sanitation workers,

and adjunct professors.

Each performs essential work that many of us notice only when it is not done.

Let us first consider the important, largely unseen work of a sterile processing technician.

Members of the surgical team are often recognized as the heroines and heroes of patient care. Yet before a surgical procedure can be performed safely, someone must ensure that every reusable instrument has been properly decontaminated, inspected, assembled, packaged, and sterilized.

Soon after I began teaching more than 20 years ago, I had a student named Ryan who had completed his active-duty service in the U.S. Navy. He returned home to begin his educational journey to become a sterile processing technician.

Ryan did not simply walk into an operating room and begin working. He completed the required general education courses. He then completed specialized classroom and laboratory training, followed by supervised clinical rotations at two separate health care facilities in two different cities away from his hometown.

He invested considerable time, energy, and money to prepare for his chosen profession. The last time I heard from him, Ryan was still working in the profession for which he had trained.

Now consider this: What are the potential consequences if a sterile processing technician does not perform the job thoroughly and correctly?

Failure to follow proper procedures can damage sterilization equipment and surgical instruments. More seriously, improperly cleaned or sterilized instruments can expose a surgical patient to dangerous microorganisms. The patient could contract a severe infection, face life-threatening complications, or even die.

Any one of these scenarios could result in considerable costs and consequences for the hospital. More importantly, the patient and the patient’s family could be left facing devastating circumstances.

The surgeon may hold the instrument, and the nurse may assist with the procedure, but a sterile processing technician helps ensure that the instrument is safe to use. Ryan and others who perform this essential work may remain outside the public spotlight, but they contribute directly to patient safety. They are among the unsung heroines and heroes behind every successful surgical procedure.

We could continue through almost any hospital and find unsung heroines and heroes at every point. Environmental services workers, custodians, food service employees, transporters, laboratory staff, and many others perform work that is essential to patient care, even though patients may never know their names.

For now, however, let us step outside the hospital and onto our neighborhood streets. There, we find another group of workers whose importance often becomes most visible when their work is not completed: sanitation workers.

Wow! We have all seen pictures of street corners piled high and wide with bags of garbage when sanitation workers go out on strike.

Stinking, rotting, nasty garbage.

The women and men who collect our cast-off waste perform a tremendous service for society. If they did not show up according to the designated collection schedule, we would quickly find ourselves in dire straits.

Uncollected garbage is more than unsightly and foul-smelling. It can become a serious public health concern. Rotting waste can attract flies, cockroaches, maggots, rats, and other pests. These pests can carry disease and expose nearby residents to serious health and safety risks.

What begins as a collection delay can lead to contamination, illness, infection, and, in extreme cases, life-threatening disease.

We need and are tremendously grateful for our frontline health care professionals and their knowledge and expertise. However, please also consider how sanitation workers protect us, our families, our friends, and our communities every day through their essential work.

We may not know their names, but we depend upon them to keep our neighborhoods clean, safe, and healthy. Sanitation workers belong in the group of those who are unsung.

I hesitate to pull my colleagues and myself into the next example. However, if not for our positions as college instructors, many of us would never have had the privilege of meeting students such as Ryan and contributing to their journeys.

More pointedly, let us consider adjunct faculty.

For those unfamiliar with the term adjunct, allow me a few words by way of explanation. An adjunct professor is generally considered a contingent faculty member. That means the person is hired temporarily, usually on a part-time basis, to teach specific courses. Adjuncts are commonly paid by the course at a rate significantly lower than the compensation received by their full-time counterparts.

Most adjuncts work from one semester to the next without meaningful job security. They are not progressing toward tenure, and many receive no health insurance or retirement contributions from the institutions where they teach.

According to the American Association of University Professors’ 2025 to 2026 Faculty Compensation Survey, the average compensation for teaching a standard three-credit course was slightly more than $4,000.

That amount must cover far more than the hours spent standing in front of a classroom. It also compensates the instructor for preparing the course, developing assignments, grading student work, answering messages, holding office hours, posting and updating course materials and announcements through the institution’s online learning management system, completing institutional requirements, and responding to the unexpected situations that inevitably arise during a semester.

Many adjuncts piece together teaching loads at multiple institutions in an effort to make something resembling a living. Even then, there is no guarantee that enough courses will be available.

Folks, this is difficult to do.

Before the fall semester began in 2025, I had earned only $4,000 from teaching that year. It was not due to a lack of effort on my part. I pounded the proverbial pavement looking for courses.

Sad, huh?

I have taught at one of my city’s largest colleges for more than 20 years. During that time, I completed my doctoral coursework, passed my comprehensive examinations, conducted research, and completed my doctoral dissertation.

Yet I am paid the same per course as a newly hired instructor with a master’s degree who may have little or no previous teaching experience.

That is not a criticism of the newly hired instructor. It is an indictment of a system that frequently does not recognize experience, longevity, advanced education, or proven effectiveness when compensating adjunct faculty.

At many teaching-focused colleges, full-time instructors are not expected to conduct and publish additional research in the same way that tenure-track faculty at research universities may be required to do. Full-time faculty do, however, serve on committees, attend meetings, advise students, and fulfill other responsibilities beyond teaching.

Did I mention that I am an adjunct?

Not in so many words, but I trust you were digging what I was putting down.

Why, you may ask, have I continued down the adjunct road when I could have obtained a full-time teaching position?

Folks, that was indeed the plan.

What is the saying?

The best laid plans . . .

Yep, that is what I did. I planned, organized, prepared, and desired exactly that.

To teach full-time.

Conducting additional research and publishing to gain tenure were not my goals.

Serving on committees would not have been a problem.

My goal was to secure a full-time position at a teaching-focused institution because:

I am good at it,

I enjoy it,

and I LOVE teaching.

I wanted to pass knowledge on to students in the same way my professors had passed knowledge on to me.

However, just as I was entering the arena and becoming eligible for full-time positions, the higher education landscape shifted. Colleges and universities increasingly relied upon contingent faculty.

Federal data for fall 2022 indicate that 44% of faculty members were part-time. When full-time faculty members working in non-tenure-track positions are included, the American Association of University Professors estimates that contingent faculty account for approximately 68% of the higher education faculty workforce.

The reliance on adjunct faculty is especially visible in one of the largest and most important sectors of higher education. A 2014 special report from the Center for Community College Student Engagement found that part-time faculty taught 58% of community college classes and 53% of community college students.

Sit with those numbers for a bit.

That study is now 12 years old.

What are the percentages today?

Unfortunately, no reliable current national figures tell us exactly what percentage of classes or students are taught by adjunct faculty. However, data from fall 2022 show that part-time instructors still accounted for 64.6% of the faculty at public two-year colleges.

In other words, nearly two out of every three faculty members were part-time.

The exact percentages vary among institutions, but one conclusion is difficult to dispute: colleges continue to depend heavily upon adjunct faculty.

This is no longer simply a small group of professionals teaching an occasional course to earn a little additional income.

That type of adjunct still exists. However, many present-day adjuncts rely upon teaching as their primary profession. They move among multiple institutions, search for available courses each semester, and sometimes accept employment outside higher education simply to make ends meet and gain some measure of financial security.

I have watched adjuncts leave a profession they love to accept jobs in retail or lower-level corporate positions because they could no longer survive on uncertain teaching assignments and low per-course pay.

Forgive me if it seems that I am digressing. I felt the need to provide a thorough explanation so that you can understand why adjunct professors are among the unsung heroines and heroes sitting in classrooms with college students every day.

Now, let us get to the unsung portion.

Adjunct professors frequently accept the less desirable, or what some might bluntly call the crappy, time slots that full-time faculty members do not want. These may include 8:00 a.m. classes, midafternoon courses, and evening sessions.

We may be scheduled to teach back-to-back courses with no more than 10 minutes between them, if we are lucky. We take class times that allow full-time faculty members to attend committee obligations and other required meetings. Occasionally, we fill in as substitute instructors or serve as examination proctors.

The institution benefits from our labor. Adjuncts provide experienced instructors at a fixed, low cost. Institutions frequently avoid the expenses associated with employee benefits, dedicated office space or providing the electronic devices needed to fill the position requirements.

Our availability also gives institutions the flexibility to add or cancel courses according to enrollment while shifting much of that uncertainty onto the adjunct instructor.

At the institutions where I teach, adjuncts do not have union representation comparable to that available to some of our counterparts elsewhere.

Before you think I am pouting about the low pay, lack of security, and everything else that comes with adjunct teaching, let me be clear.

I am.

HOWEVER, I am also proud of what I do.

I am proud of our students.

I am proud of the institutions where I teach.

I have been extraordinarily fortunate to teach students who have gone on to become:

attorneys,

directors of senior retirement facilities and memory care units,

nurses,

developers,

filmmakers,

physical therapists,

mental health advocates,

teachers,

counselors,

ministers,

professors,

researchers,

business owners,

builders,

parents,

managers,

performers,

therapists,

bus drivers,

veterinarians,

writers,

military personnel,

baristas,

and many others who now fill essential roles throughout our communities.

These former students perform the work that keeps our society functioning so that others out front can continue to have songs written about them.

Our institutions may classify us as contingent. Our contracts may call our employment temporary. Our names may disappear from course schedules when a semester ends.

But what passes between a professor and a student does not disappear when the course ends.

We hope that we leave a mark on our students through the knowledge we share, the encouragement we offer, and the possibilities we help them recognize. What may be less visible is the mark our students leave on us.

They remain in our hearts, our minds, and our souls.

Years after final grades have been submitted, we watch former students become professionals, parents, community leaders, and people who make a difference in the lives of others. Some remain in contact with us for years. Sometimes another member of the same family enters our classroom. Perhaps one day, the child of a former student will sit where that parent once sat.

Among those students is Ryan.

Ryan entered my classroom after already accomplishing something significant through his active-duty service in the U.S. Navy. I was fortunate to meet him during the next stage of his journey. I watched him continue his education, complete specialized training and clinical rotations, and grow into his profession as a sterile processing technician.

I did not create Ryan’s determination or choose his path for him. However, I had the privilege of teaching him, getting to know him, and perhaps helping shape one small part of his journey.

Ryan’s work now helps protect the lives of surgical patients. To have played even a small role in the journey that brought him there is one of the greatest privileges of being his professor.

But the influence did not travel in only one direction. Knowing Ryan, learning about what he had already accomplished, and watching him grow left a mark on me as well.

That is what teaching does at its best. Our students carry part of us forward, and we carry part of them with us.

Our employment may be labeled temporary, but the knowledge, relationships, memories, and influence created in our classrooms are not temporary.

Unsung?

Perhaps.

Unimportant?

Never!

🤔
🫳🏽🎤
✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-14 | Unsung? Perhaps. Unimportant? Never!}

The Not-So-Ordinary Ordinary

Thu, 13 Aug 2026 02:14:30 GMT

A correction to my last post - I inadvertently left out a certain group of people.

Heroines.

Please forgive me.

After Monday’s posting, a friend and I sat down intent on preparing a list of a different sort of heroines and heroes. We put this list together in a matter of minutes.

These individuals engage in occupations or roles that often involve essential work without much public recognition.

These are positions filled by people we may hardly ever notice. Yet these folks are crucial to their respective professions and, in many cases, extremely vital to our society as a whole. In many instances, they are there supporting the heroines and heroes we mentioned in Monday’s essay.

Here is our short list of more than 50 professions, jobs, roles, and kinds of work that provide some strong examples:

911 dispatchers
Animal shelter workers
Apartment and building superintendents
Caregivers, especially unpaid family caregivers
Child protective services workers
Childcare workers
Coal miners
Community health workers
Court clerks
Crisis-line workers
Crossing guards
Custodians and janitors
Delivery drivers
Direct-support professionals for people with disabilities
Dishwashers and kitchen support staff
Election workers
Emergency room technicians
Family farmers
Farmworkers
Food processing workers
Foster parents
Funeral home workers
Grandparents raising grandchildren
Grocery store workers
Home health aides and personal care attendants
Hospice workers
Hospital transport staff
Housekeepers
Interpreters and translators
Laundry workers
Legal aid attorneys
Librarians and library staff
Maintenance workers
Manual laborers
Medical laboratory technicians
Nurses’ aides and certified nursing assistants
Paraprofessionals and classroom aides
Peer-support workers
Pharmacists and pharmacy technicians
Phlebotomists
Postal workers and mail carriers
Public defenders
Public transit drivers
Respiratory therapists
Road maintenance crews
Sanitation workers
School bus drivers
School cafeteria workers
School secretaries and administrative assistants
Service workers
Single parents
Snowplow drivers
Social workers
Sterile processing technicians
Transit workers
Truck drivers
Tow-truck drivers
Utility line workers
Veterinary technicians
Warehouse workers
Wastewater treatment workers

There’s the list, folks!

L-o-n-g.

INDEED, it is that.

And we are quite aware there are many we left off during our five-minute brainstorming activity.

If you come across a profession, job, or role that we overlooked, please, by all means, share it with us so we can add it to our list. Who knows when we might return to this again?

As a matter of fact, while you’re at it, would you please share the Substack with three to five of your closest friends and ask them not only to follow, but also to comment and tell us what they think is missing from our list?

OK, enough of the advertisement. Let’s get on with this essay.

We labeled our list “Unsung Heroines and Heroes.”

Ever wonder why we call them unsung?

Very seldom do they receive the recognition, praise, accolades, thanks, consideration, or even the second thought we often give to the more visible heroine or hero.

Unsung because, quite literally, songs usually are not written about them.

I know, I know, do not get your panties in a wad. Every now and then, we might hear a country or folk song about one of these individuals or about the role they play in keeping our society running.

I could add a narrative about one vital role every day for the next month or, looking at this list, for the next 50-plus days, and examine how that person’s role, job, or work matters far beyond their immediate purview.

Ahhhh, something just came to me as I am writing . . .

Seems to me this is a portion of the fabric that makes up our society.

No!

Actually, each one of these essential individuals, filling these roles and doing this work, represents a thread woven into the very fabric of our society.

If you missed the first few weeks of this Substack back in June 2026, you might want to go back to the beginning and see how this builds upon what we started with those early publications.

What makes these individuals especially interesting as unsung heroins and heroes is that much of what they do falls into categories sociologists have long examined: care work, emotional labor, invisible labor, maintenance work, reproductive labor, helping professions, and even what has been called “dirty work.”

Different concepts, perhaps, but a common thread runs through them: necessary work that is frequently valued far less than the society depending upon it.

These folks are the unsung heroines and heroes who do not necessarily occupy the highly visible positions that place them in the public eye. Truth be told, most of them are filling necessary roles, performing essential work day after day, doing it proficiently, and going largely unnoticed.

Every occupation on our list is a thread.

Some are highly visible, brightly colored threads.

Others disappear into the weave.

But pull enough of those supposedly insignificant threads out and see what happens to the fabric.

Society notices very quickly when the work is not completed or when the work stops. Yet when everything is functioning as it should, the people doing that work are often barely noticed at all.

Reaching back to Monday’s writing, what opportunities have we missed to recognize and thank an unsung heroine or hero?

Perhaps we should all consider taking on a daily kindness for those who go unsung.

That requires us to keep our eyes open for ordinary opportunities; to recognize, thank, or simply acknowledge ordinary individuals who may not be so ordinary when we stop and think about the work they do.

Because sometimes the ordinary people around us are doing work that is anything but ordinary.

We must do better to be better to one another, folks.

🤔
🫳🏽🎤
✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-07 |}_{The Not-So-Ordinary Ordinary}

Thank You for Your Service

Mon, 10 Aug 2026 16:39:29 GMT

Last night, at the end of ABC’s World News Tonight with David Muir, as is often the case, came the final segment, America Strong.

Since that first sentence is so long, let me do short and sweet to describe this portion of the broadcast. It is the warm-and-fuzzy, feel-good dessert at the end of a hard-news meal.

Sweet, but not short.

I somewhat have digressed.

Another rabbit hole.

Apologies.

No matter.

Last night’s America Strong featured a 70-year-old Arizona man who became stranded on a mountain after realizing he didn’t have the strength to make it back down. First responders rescued him, and later he returned to thank them with a painting he had made for the people who brought him safely home.

We often hear stories such as this.

A decade ago, my partner had a life-threatening episode that required calling our local first responders. Following a period of rehabilitation, including PT and OT, they wanted to visit the local fire station personally to meet and thank the people who had helped them.

The point is that it is easy to read or hear about those folks we call heroes. These stories are everywhere: news coverage, podcasts, films, books, magazine articles, and perhaps there is even a Substack devoted entirely to heroes.

Law enforcement: police and sheriffs.

911 dispatchers.

Firefighters.

EMTs and paramedics.

Doctors.

Nurses.

Emergency room personnel.

Search-and-rescue teams.

Military personnel.

Coast Guard personnel.

Disaster-response teams.

Emergency-management personnel.

Priests and ministers.

When we need them, they are there.

How often do we thank them?

While we hold them in high regard, perhaps we only really thank them when they are needed.

My partner was a wonderfully grateful individual, never forgetting others.

One example, among so many, occurred whenever they spotted someone wearing a veteran service cap.

They always made certain to walk over to the vet, speak directly to them, extend a hand, and say:

“Thank you for your service.”

Their days of active service may have passed, but our opportunity to recognize and thank them has not.

Small acts of kindness such as this are not difficult.

Perhaps we should all consider taking on a daily kindness.

That requires keeping our eyes open for ordinary opportunities to recognize, thank, or simply acknowledge another person.

We must be looking for those cultural symbols:

the veteran’s service cap,

the individual in scrubs,

or the cop standing in line at our local QT.

Keep our sights on others, rather than looking only at ourselves.

We gotta do better to be better to one another, folks.

🤔
🫳🏽🎤
✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-10 | Thank You for Your Service}

The Airstrip

Sat, 08 Aug 2026 01:20:00 GMT

Excuse this bit of silliness borrowed from The Golden Girls and the life actress Estelle Getty gave to Sophia Petrillo.

Picture it: Sicily, 1922.

A remote village has been cut off after a disaster. Roads are impassable. Utilities are down. People urgently need food, water, medicine, and other supplies.

The only practical way to reach them is by airplane.

But there is a problem.

A plane cannot land until there is an airstrip.

Here is the rub: not everyone has the same knowledge or skills.

Stefano may know how to fly the plane. Angelo may know where it can safely land. Vincenzo and his sons may know how to unload the supplies. Luca and the employees of his moving company may know how to distribute those supplies once they arrive.

Still others on this Sicilian island may have no aviation experience at all or seemingly no particular expertise that would benefit the mission.

Yet they are not unimportant.

They can gather people.

They can bring tools and equipment.

They can clear brush, remove debris, rake, shovel, smooth the ground, and prepare the landing strip.

Someone surveys the land.

Someone marks the runway.

Someone cuts the brush.

Someone removes the rocks.

Someone fuels the plane.

Someone checks the weather.

Someone directs the pilot.

Someone unloads the supplies.

Someone distributes food and medicine to families.

Without all of that work, Stefano’s expertise as a pilot is useless.

There is nowhere to land.

Sophia’s point . . .

Every role matters.

A community, or for that matter any organization, does not succeed because everyone can do everything.

We succeed because people contribute what they are able to contribute toward a common purpose.

So, which job is the most important?

The answer, of course, is . . .

None of them.

Or perhaps better . . .

All of them.

Every task depends upon another task, and every person depends upon someone else doing their part.

This is where leadership enters the story.

Someone coordinates the people clearing the runway.

Someone coordinates transportation.

Someone coordinates medical care.

Someone coordinates food distribution.

Within each part of the mission, leadership emerges.

Leadership is not a pyramid with one person at the top doing all the thinking.

Healthy leadership is a network of stewardship in which people accept responsibility for the work entrusted to them while recognizing that their success depends upon the contributions of others.

That brings us back to the three qualities we considered this week.

Stewardship recognizes the abilities, responsibilities, and resources entrusted to different people.

Influence helps coordinate those contributions toward a common purpose.

And curiosity causes the leader to ask:

“Who else needs to be at this airstrip, and what can they contribute that I cannot?”

That last part may be one of the most important.

An authentic leader does not need to be the person who knows how to do everything.

An authentic leader needs to recognize who does.

And what about recognition?

Who receives the greatest recognition when the airplane finally lands?

Usually, we applaud the pilot.

But someone built the runway.

Someone maintained it.

Someone checked the weather.

Someone fueled the plane.

Someone directed traffic.

Someone unloaded the supplies.

The arrival everyone celebrates depends upon people whose names may never be announced.

Recognition is not only about public applause.

Sometimes it is as simple as acknowledging someone’s contribution.

Sometimes it means listening to an idea.

Sometimes it means answering a question from someone whose voice might otherwise disappear into the crowd.

No one is above another in this effort.

The pilot is essential.

The people clearing the runway are essential.

The people unloading the supplies are essential.

The people distributing the medicine are essential.

Remove any one of those groups, and the mission may fail.

Leadership exists to help people succeed together.

It does not exist to make one person more important than everyone else.

People may lead different portions of the work. Some may never carry a leadership title at all. Yet every person has a contribution, and healthy communities recognize the dignity and necessity of those contributions.

So perhaps the final question is not simply:

Who is the leader?

Perhaps it is:

How do we humans flourish together?

Not by elevating one person above everyone else.

We flourish through interdependence.

One person’s work makes another person’s work possible.

The plane may get the applause when it lands.

But first, someone had to clear the airstrip.

🤔
🫳🏽🎤
✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-07 | The Airstrip}

Now That You’re in the Big Chair, What Will You Do With It?

Thu, 06 Aug 2026 00:07:38 GMT

Last week, we asked who wanted the chair.

Perhaps that was never the most important question.

Chairs are easy to occupy.

Leadership is much harder.

Once we have been given influence, authority, or simply the opportunity to lead, another question quietly takes its place.

Now what?

What do we do with the chair once we are sitting in it?

Leadership is not revealed by how someone gains authority. True leadership is revealed by what someone does once they are sitting in the big chair.

There are three essential qualities found in an authentic leader:

• Stewardship
• Influence
• Curiosity

Okay, let’s dive into each of these critical elements.

Stewardship

Consider the statement from Monday, when we said that power asks, “What can I do?”

Conversely, authentic leadership asks, “What has been entrusted to me?”

The difference between power and authentic leadership begins with an entirely different mindset.

An authentic leader does not look at the people in their care as belonging to them. Those people have been entrusted to the leader for a time. They are not possessions.

The funds appropriated for a project are not available for power’s personal spending. An authentic leader recognizes that the money must be used to further the mission and support the people involved.

Human capital and money are two important examples. Of course, good stewardship extends far beyond these two areas. Time, resources, opportunities, relationships, and trust must also be considered.

The bottom line is that an authentic leader protects what has been entrusted to them. They practice stewardship rather than adopting an ownership mindset.

Influence

Is leadership about being followed, or is it about helping others become leaders themselves?

Most likely, we have never given this much thought.

Why is that?

I know the answer, and I suspect you do too.

We seldom see people in positions of leadership intentionally lifting others.

Why?

As we discussed earlier this week, what we often encounter is not authentic leadership. Instead, we see an inflated ego occupying the chair.

A person driven by ego may fear that helping others grow will somehow diminish their own importance.

An authentic leader understands the opposite.

Their influence is not weakened when someone else becomes stronger. Their leadership is revealed through the confidence, knowledge, and opportunities they help develop in others.

True influence does not create dependence.

It creates possibility.

Curiosity

The best leaders are not afraid to ask questions, even when those questions might make them appear under-informed.

They do not ask because they know less.

They ask because they understand that there is always more to learn.

Curiosity is an extraordinary quality to possess.

We should never stop questioning, listening, and learning. A familiar quotation often attributed to Albert Einstein reminds us that curiosity has its own reason for existing.

When we stop questioning and learning, we stop growing.

A leader who believes they already know everything eventually stops hearing the people around them.

An authentic leader remains curious.

They ask questions not simply to prepare a response, but because they genuinely want to understand.

What Will Remain?

One final thought to consider:

When an authentic leader leaves the table or departs their position, what should remain?

Do people remember the leader’s authority?

Or do they remember that they felt seen, heard, respected, and invited into the conversation?

An authentic leader leaves a lasting hallmark.

They leave behind a positive culture of inclusion, respect, trust, and shared purpose.

A meaningful legacy of leadership shifts the focus away from achieving personal success and toward creating lasting significance.

The true measure of leadership may not be found in what someone accomplished while sitting in the chair.

Perhaps it is found in what continues after they have left it.

🤔
🫳🏽🎤
✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-05 | Now That You’re in the Big Chair, What Will You Do With It?}

When Power Wants the Chair

Tue, 04 Aug 2026 02:53:32 GMT

Wow! I cannot believe we started down this road on July 20. We are already entering the third week of what has become an unplanned extended series.

We began by spending the first week considering what it means to be seen and heard.

But perhaps those are only parts of a much larger human desire.

Last week, we moved into the deeper issue of who is invited to the table for conversation, who is there simply to diversify the attendance, and whose presence or knowledge is taken for granted, especially when they are speaking from what they have learned through lived experience.

Wow! Those two weeks were somewhat heavy.

This week let’s explore leadership at that table.

Many of us do not believe we are prepared to lead. We think, “I will help. I will assist in any way possible. But lead? Not me. I am not equipped for that.”

Ahhh, then there are those who believe they were born to lead.

Who told them that? Was it written on their birth certificate?

Perhaps they believe leadership runs in their bloodline. However, many of us have encountered people who believe themselves to be natural-born leaders when all we actually encounter is an inflated ego.

Then there are those who truly are leaders.

Were they born with it?

Probably not.

Leadership is a skill that must be developed through experience. Genuine leadership skills are developed through practice and on-the-job training. Just like an athlete, a leader must exercise, train, and put those skills to work in order to discover what works and what does not.

Consider Colonel Harland Sanders, the founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken, now known simply as KFC. He did not achieve his greatest success until he was in his 60s.

He experienced so many setbacks that most of us might have given up, retired, signed up to receive our Social Security checks, and settled into a rocker on the front porch. After all, not many of us can live it up on the beach on our monthly allotment. I doubt Mr. Sanders could have either.

It has been said that Colonel Sanders believed each failure could become a stepping stone to something better.

That sounds a bit like an athlete in training, doesn’t it?

Another thought attributed to him suggests that hard work, training, and practice matter more than supplements and vitamins. That is DrT’s translation, of course.

The point is that we must put a skill into practice if we truly expect to become better at it. That is true whether the skill involves cooking chicken, creative writing, running, weightlifting, or leadership.

Most of us are capable of leading somewhere.

Perhaps our opportunity will not be on the same scale as Colonel Sanders’s. Maybe it will happen through the local PTA, a house of faith, a study group, a volunteer organization, a neighborhood project, or wherever people gather to accomplish something together.

We simply have to begin practicing.

Remember, Harland Sanders was in his 60s before he found the success for which he became known. He found his way one stepping stone at a time.

That is how we do it, folks. We take baby steps until we are prepared to run a 10K or lead a group of 25 volunteers.

There it is. Enough of the cheerleading speech.

Now, let’s dive a little deeper into leadership.

Whether we are deciding if we should step forward to lead or, perhaps more importantly, helping to select someone else for leadership, there are significant factors we need to consider.

Above all, we must recognize this:

Influence is a privilege, not an entitlement.

Recall last week’s discussion when we considered power. Too often, the desire for power arises from an inflated ego.

Power can be useful. It can help move people and ideas toward a shared goal. However, power can also be precarious when it is not used for the betterment of what is at hand.

Conversely, integrity asks, “Should I lead?”

There is practicality in asking this question of ourselves.

Why do I want to lead?

Am I skilled enough to lead this particular undertaking?

Can I see it through to completion?

Am I the person best equipped for what this situation requires?

Then wisdom asks, “Whose voice needs to lead here?”

Here we go!

This may be the true heart of leadership.

Leadership requires looking beyond ourselves. It requires seeking out those who can help identify the nature of the problem, shape the direction of the work, and determine how the group’s goal can actually be met.

Perhaps the true measure of leadership is not how often we shape the conversation, but how willingly we create space for those whose lives will be shaped by its outcome.

The ethics, or integrity, of influence are found not only in knowing how to use power, but also in knowing when to step back so someone else can step forward.

Perhaps the person who needs to lead is already sitting at the table.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

🤔
🫳🏽🎤
✌🏼
❤️

Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-08-03 |}_{When Power Wants the Chair}

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A Seat at the Table

Fri, 31 Jul 2026 22:41:37 GMT

I trust you read Wednesday’s writing, where we looked at the table and chairs, followed by a discussion of representation and power.

Today, we are back at that same table, with those same chairs.

First question: When folks finally receive a seat at the table, are we prepared to value what they bring with them?

So then, what good is having a seat at the table if no one intends to listen and value their input?

Wow, those are a couple of deep questions if you pause to think about them.

Oftentimes, folks may say that everyone deserves a seat at the table.

But what happens after they sit down?

Are they welcomed into the conversation?

Are their ideas considered?

Or were they invited simply so the table would appear more inclusive?

Or . . .

does having a seat at the table mean very little if no one at the table intends to listen?

Over my many years, I have sat in quite a few rooms and at quite a few tables.

No matter the type of organization, whether it was in my local community, a religious affiliation, the corporate sector, a nonprofit, or an educational setting, every person at the table was encouraged to speak.

However, it was obvious that some voices carried more weight than others.

Why is that?

The issue was not who had been invited, as we indeed had a diverse table.

Folks of varying walks of life, socioeconomic status, gender, race, experiences, and so forth were invited to the table.

Shouldn’t all feel free to speak their words?

Truthfully, sometimes folks are invited, given a seat at the table, but are still expected to remain quiet.

That’s way too bad! Right?

As we all come from different life experiences.

We all hold valuable input, and our contributions should all be respected as such. Agreed?

Our contributions are not only significant to the larger issues on the table, but the knowledge we bring is essential.

On the other hand, some participants feel as though their voices will be heard but not listened to. Remember our conversations from last week?

Why speak up when no one previously has treated their personal experiences as valuable enough to do more than merely hear them?

So, they remain silent.

Do you blame them?

I don’t, as I have been in their place too many times to count.

I know you feel me! Right?

So then, where is the breakdown in filling the table with all this diversity?

I know! I know! Diversity (and BTW, diversity means more than just race) has become a dirty word for some folks.

However,

I am going there!

Yep, I DID go there!

The issue may not have been who was invited, but whose words were treated as valuable once they arrived.

Inclusion without influence is often little more than appearance.

A diverse table can still reproduce the same old decisions.

The issue is not only who has been invited.

The issue is who has the authority to be believed.

Having a seat at the table is only the first step.

Presence alone does not guarantee participation.

Being recognized matters because it acknowledges that everyone’s experience, expertise, and perspective belong in the conversation.

Too often, people are physically present but still treated as though they are invisible.

Being heard goes a step further.

It means everyone’s ideas are voiced without interruption or dismissal.

But being listened to is where influence begins.

Listening requires others to genuinely consider everyone’s perspective, weigh everyone’s reasoning, and allow those perspectives to shape their thinking.

The most meaningful seat at the table belongs to those whose lives, work, and futures will be most affected by the decisions being made.

None of us should simply be present as observers or invited to speak as a courtesy.

Everyone’s voice deserves consideration, especially the voices of those who understand the realities, challenges, and unintended consequences that others may never experience.

When those closest to the issue are genuinely listened to, they help shape not only what is said, but what is ultimately decided, implemented, and sustained.

Influence is not measured by how often someone speaks.

It is measured by whether their perspective changes the conversation and helps determine the direction that follows.

The greatest measure of inclusion is not simply being invited into the room.

It is having the ability to influence the decisions that are made, the priorities that are established, and the direction an organization, community, or society ultimately takes.

A seat at the table offers access.

Recognition offers legitimacy.

Listening creates influence.

Together, access, recognition, and listening create the possibility for meaningful change.

When folks finally receive a seat at the table, are we prepared to value what they bring with them?

So then, what good is having a seat at the table if no one intends to listen?

To be continued Monday . . .

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Turning the Lens with DrT

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_{2026-07-31 | A Seat at the Table}

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Representation Matters. So Does Power.

Wed, 29 Jul 2026 18:28:55 GMT

Representation matters.

So does power.

However, they are not always the same thing.

On Monday, I posed the question of whether an invitation actually equals a welcome.

Because being invited into the room, given a seat, and even given time to speak may look like inclusion.

However,

today I want to pose another question that causes us to think more deeply:

First, and perhaps more telling, who shaped the room before anyone entered it?

Who selected the table?

Who placed the chairs?

Who decided who would occupy those chairs?

And who has the power to shape what happens once everyone enters the room?

Representation matters.

It matters who is present.

It matters whose lived experiences are brought into the conversation.

It matters whether the people affected by a decision are included when that decision is made.

But presence alone does not guarantee influence.

A person may be seated at the table while others still determine

what is discussed,

whose knowledge is trusted,

which ideas are taken seriously,

and what decisions are ultimately made.

Representation may open the door.

Power determines what happens after you enter.

But that raises another set of questions.

Who built the table?

Who chose the chairs?

And who decided whose knowledge would count?

A diverse table can still reproduce the same old decisions when only certain voices are treated as credible, knowledgeable, or authoritative.

Whose knowledge is regarded as expertise?

Whose knowledge is dismissed as merely personal and not valued because it does not come from those already regarded as experts?

Whose education, title, or position grants them immediate credibility?

And whose lived experiences must be explained, defended, or proven before they are taken seriously?

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_{2026-07-29 | Representation Matters. So Does Power.}

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Does Invite Equal Welcome?

Mon, 27 Jul 2026 18:16:22 GMT

Being invited into the room does not always mean being welcomed into the conversation.

Have you ever received an invitation to a gathering, a house party, an event, or a meeting, only to arrive and feel as though you did not belong?

I have! On many, many occasions.

I am certain you have as well.

In the 1990s, while working in the corporate sector, I served on what would now be described as a work improvement team. The people who performed the work were supposed to be given a meaningful voice in deciding how that work could be improved.

However . . .

Yep, you guessed it.

Most members of management did not really want to hear our voices.

They believed they knew more about the work and its flow than the people who actually performed it.

You may be invited to a meeting, encouraged to contribute, and even given time to speak.

But are your ideas truly considered?

Were you heard?

Or,

were you merely heard, but not listened to?

Was the dialogue shallow?

Were your perspectives overlooked?

Being invited into the room does not always mean being welcomed into the conversation.

Inclusion without influence may be little more than appearance.

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_{2026-07-27 | Does Invite Equal Welcome?}

When Neither Happens

Fri, 24 Jul 2026 20:03:22 GMT

What happens when a person is neither seen nor heard?

For many people, this is more than a passing feeling. It is an experience shaped by a long history of being overlooked, disregarded, or silenced.

Indigenous peoples are among the populations frequently rendered invisible within American society. Their presence, histories, knowledge, and lived experiences have too often been disregarded, while their voices have struggled to receive the attention they deserve.

Joy Harjo, a member of the Muscogee Nation and the first Native American to serve as U.S. poet laureate, has described Indigenous peoples as Americans who are “totally disregarded” and has explained that she felt their voices “needed to be heard.”

Indigenous peoples are not outside the American story. They are foundational to it.

Harjo’s words speak to an experience that extends beyond any one population.

Some folks may begin to withdraw.

They may speak louder.

Perhaps they stop speaking altogether.

Or they find other ways to demand recognition.

We saw an example of this recently in Madison, Wisconsin, when protesters disrupted a police news conference following the fatal shooting of Corey Ruiz. One protester took the microphone and called for accountability. Whether one agrees with the action or not, it illustrates what can happen when people believe the ordinary ways of speaking have failed to make anyone listen.

Being seen and heard are deeply connected to recognition, respect, belonging, and dignity.

What happens when an individual, or an entire group, is not acknowledged?

Not valued?

Marginalized?

Even completely disregarded?

They can begin to feel invisible.

They may feel unappreciated.

They may become indifferent, discouraged, resentful, or even begin to question their own worth.

Alienation can begin to set in.

Permit me a personal example, if you will.

During the years I attended university as a nontraditional student, I spent many evenings on campus. Graduate courses were often held at night, and as the daytime students were leaving, the women responsible for cleaning the building were beginning their work.

One woman frequently cleaned the ladies’ room near my classes. I no longer remember her name. It has simply been too many years. For this story, I will call her Wanda.

Because I saw her regularly, I tried to acknowledge her. I would ask how her day had been, speak with her while she worked, and thank her for cleaning the space that so many of us used without giving much thought to the person who cared for it.

I wanted her to know that I saw her.

But being seen does not always mean being heard.

Suppose Wanda noticed that one of the exterior doors was no longer closing or locking properly. Because she worked in the building after most students and faculty had gone home, she would understand the danger of that broken lock in a way others might not.

Suppose she reported it, but nothing happened.

Her words may have been received. Someone may even have nodded, taken a note, or promised to look into it.

But was anyone listening?

Her work was important enough to rely upon.

Was her knowledge important enough to value?

A person can be visible enough to perform a service and still remain invisible as a human being.

A person can speak clearly and still go unheard.

No matter how self-sufficient we may think ourselves to be, our sense of belonging and self-worth is deeply connected to how the folks around us perceive us and respond to our lived experiences.

How they fail to see us can matter just as much.

Being unseen and unheard does not erase a person’s experiences. It often changes how those experiences are expressed.

Perhaps one of the most meaningful things we can offer another person is the assurance that they have not passed through the world unnoticed.

Being seen tells us that our presence matters.

Being heard tells us that our voice does too.

Who in your life may be waiting to be seen, heard, or both?

We gotta do better, to be better.

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Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-07-24 | When Neither Happens}

Being Heard

Thu, 23 Jul 2026 00:10:06 GMT

Folks speak every day,

but that does not mean

anyone

or everyone is listening.

Being heard involves more than being allowed to finish a sentence. It requires attention, consideration, and true interest in the one who is speaking. It asks us to take another person - and what they are saying - quite seriously.

To truly hear someone, the listener must be fully present.

Hearing is quite passive.

Listening is active and intentional.

Sometimes, while another person is speaking, we sit poised on the edge of the conversation, waiting our turn to talk. We may be mentally framing our response, preparing our defense, or deciding what we will say next.

When we do this, we are hearing words, but we are not truly listening. We are not giving our full attention to the other person’s ideas, experiences, or perspectives. This is passive hearing.

Permit me this example.

While conducting my doctoral research in one Missouri county, I discovered that a famous Sci-Fi writer had been born in the county seat. This writer had absolutely nothing to do with my research, but I just HAD to investigate.

And, yes, I do travel down many rabbit holes . . . every day.

Robert A. Heinlein was born in Butler, Missouri. He is regarded, along with Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke, as one of Sci-Fi’s “Big Three.” Heinlein has also been called the “dean of science fiction writers.”

I offer this background so you will understand the significance of what is to follow.

In 1941, Heinlein published a short story titled “Solution Unsatisfactory.” In it, the United States develops a devastating radioactive weapon capable of destroying entire cities. The story considers what might happen once such weaponry exists. Nations begin competing for control of it.

Heinlein’s story imagined the fear, anxiety, and dread of living in a world where adversaries possessed the power to destroy one another.

He wrote this before the United States formally established the Manhattan Project and years before the world witnessed the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

And now, here we are.

The dean was frighteningly perceptive.

Then

and

Now.

Was Heinlein attempting to warn us?

We will never know for certain.

Heinlein spoke.

Who was listening?

Or did they merely hear him?

Most of us will never become acclaimed writers. We will not be regarded as prophets, nor will our words influence nations.

Even so, our words matter.

Have you ever spoken while realizing that no one was truly listening?

Oh, I have - on many occasions. I am certain you have as well.

Have you ever felt that someone was waiting for you to stop talking rather than trying to understand what you were saying?

Me, too.

Perhaps the more difficult question is this:

How often have we done that to someone else?

Some of us have been hearing and need to begin listening.

Others have been speaking for a long time.

They are no longer merely asking to be heard.

They are insisting that we

listen,

understand them,

and take their lived experiences seriously.

We gotta do better, to be better.

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Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-07-22 | Being Heard}

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Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, shared, or spent a little time with Turning the Lens with DrT. I truly appreciate your support.

I would love for this space to become more conversational and interactive, so please add your thoughts, questions, experiences, and commentary. A reflection becomes richer when others join the conversation.

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Being Seen

Mon, 20 Jul 2026 18:59:37 GMT

What does it mean to feel truly seen?

What is it about being seen, yet not appreciated for who we are?

We can be visible to other people without being recognized by them. Someone may notice that we are present but never pause long enough to consider who we really are, what we carry, or what we may need.

One of my grands recently shared an experience with me over coffee. They use a wheelchair to zoom around their university campus, which helps prevent further stress on their joints. For shorter distances, hand crutches are usually all that is necessary.

One day, while in the university cafeteria, or “the caf,” as students call it, they needed a spoon from the silverware organizer. Of course, the spoons they needed were at the very top. To reach one, my grand stood up from their chair.

A professor witnessed this and immediately exclaimed, “Oh, my gosh! You can walk!”

Never mind that my grand is now entering the senior year of their undergraduate program.

The professor continued, “Wow! You can walk! Do you know you are such an inspiration?”

In that moment, my grand experienced what it means to be seen without truly being acknowledged. As they explained it to me, all the professor saw was the chair, not the person sitting in it.

Being looked at is not the same as being seen.

In The Elephant Man, John Merrick’s anguished cry, “I am not an animal! I am a human being! I am a man!” expresses the deepest need beneath such moments: the need to be recognized as fully and completely human.

We fail to see someone when we view them only on the surface, noticing their physical appearance, their features, their disability, or their disfigurement, all the while overlooking the richness of who they are.

When we look without seeing the whole individual, we miss out.

We miss the person.

We miss the totality of their life.

We fail to consider their thoughts,
experiences,
beliefs,
values,
talents,
dreams,
hopes,
and the countless qualities that make them who they are.

A true disconnect occurs when we do not recognize and appreciate the individual in all their depth and magnificence.

Perhaps you have felt this way.

Perhaps you have been looked at but not truly seen.

When was the last time someone made you feel recognized, understood, and valued for who you genuinely are?

And perhaps some of us must also ask ourselves whether we have looked at another person without taking the time to see their profound depth and value.

Seeing someone requires more than our eyes. It requires our attention, our curiosity, and our willingness to recognize the whole person before us.

We’ve gotta do better to be better.

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Turning the Lens with DrT

. . . the beat goes on §

_{2026-07-20 | Being Seen}