On Expectations
My game. My rules.
Over the years, I’ve become very stringent with my time.
I used to try and fill my time—tasks, worries, people—in the misguided belief that occupied time equals productivity. And since I also believed, equally misguidedly, that productivity equaled self-worth,1 I duly proceeded to stuff my schedule chock full of things I didn’t really have or want to do.
As the years went by and things I actually wanted to do multiplied, I began to do the opposite, taking time away from things that mattered less. I learned how to prioritise, ask myself what mattered and what didn’t.
Time became a treasure jealously guarded, kept under lock and key.
For a few years now, this is how I’ve divided my time in descending order of importance: partner, rest, exercise, friends, full-time job, subtitles translation, blogging, reading, teaching English, freelancing.
As you can see, I have a fair bit on my plate. It’s been an at times tiring game of juggling where I have to constantly remind myself that “rest” comes second.
Anyhow, that was a long preamble to what I wanted to talk about today: expectations.
On that list of 10 to-do’s (I counted), teaching comes 9th. Given that it’s so far down the list i.e. doesn’t get a lot of time allocated to it, I am very picky with who I teach.
So, at the start of each potential academic partnership, I send my prospect a contract that I ask them to review and sign. That contract lays out in plain (you could say stern) English what my expectations of my learner are.
Every new learner, no exceptions, has to agree to my rules. Lessons are paid for in bulk in advance. Late homework is penalised. Late attendance is penalised. Missed attendance is charged in full.
I come prepared, on time, to deliver excellent lessons, my learner comes prepared, on time, to work on their English. Sounds like a fair game to me.
When I first created this system, I didn’t really see how it would pan out. When my rules were broken, I enforced the contract. Late to lesson? Penalty. Missed lesson without fair notice? Charged.
But soon I’d discover the beauty of the system and thank myself for instituting it, for setting out my expectations at the start and, more importantly, having my prospect agree to them before becoming my learner.
See, I had a promising new learner. They were brilliant and I loved teaching them. The problem was: they didn’t show up to class once (with no justifiable cause) and didn’t submit their homework a few weeks in a row. Then they proceeded to disregard some instructions I gave and did something I didn’t ask them to do.2
So, armed with the signed contract, I sat the learner down and we had a little “talk.” I reiterated my expectations, the learner said they couldn’t meet them, I proposed to cancel the rest of our sessions and offered a full refund for the untaught lessons, to which the learner—visibly relieved—agreed.
My expectations were too high for them, so clearly the relationship was going nowhere. This episode cost me over $1,000 in forfeited lesson fees, but my time is worth far more than that. Time, and frustration, that missed homework deadlines and lessons would have entailed.
The lesson I’m taking away from this? (Pun totally intended)
Expectations are the bomb when you’re working with people.
Clearly define the minimum you expect from the other party, iterate it clearly, get them to agree to it. And if they’re not happy with it, then walk away. Simple as that.
That’s what I did with my brilliant learner. It was a shame we couldn’t proceed as it was a hell lot of fun teaching them. But I had my expectations, and they clearly said they couldn’t meet them, so I walked away.
My game. My rules.
What about you? What rules do you have for the games you play?
Leave a comment, reply, send a pigeon. I’m all ears.
Until next Friday… Stay cool, stay safe, stay thoughtful,
Val
Spoiler alert: It does not.
Most likely they were trying to atone for the missed lesson by taking initiative. But when that initiative directly contradicts my written instructions… Call me a dictator—but my game, my rules.