As the New Year approaches, it is typical for many to make resolutions.  When I conducted my own informal survey—simply by asking friends, "What's your New Year's resolution?" I noted that the top five resolutions are as follows.

           1.    To lose weight.

           2.    To stop smoking.

           3.    To get a new job.

           4.    To get out of debt.

           5.    To find Mr. or Ms. Right.

I stopped making New Year’s resolutions a long time ago.  It’s not that I don’t set goals for myself; I do.  However, I don’t necessarily do it at the beginning of the year.  I accomplished one of the goals from the above list this year—I quit smoking.  I’m still working on some of the others.

When I worked in engineering, I was introduced to the concept of “Continuous Improvement,” and that’s what I try to do every moment and every day of my life.  Sometimes, I fall short of my potential.  Other times, I do okay.  But just like there’s always room for Jello, there is also room for improvement.

In high school, I had a history professor that was particularly hard on me.  I was a straight-A student, but whenever he assigned essay questions, Mr. Lavender usually deducted a point for something.  Once, he deducted a point for incorrect grammar, and I scored 99, instead of 100. 

When I compared my paper to a classmate’s, I found out that Mr. Lavender had a different grading scale for me than he did for Marilyn Jackson, who was my best friend, and a C student, at best.  Her grammar was terrible, but Mr. Lavender did not deduct points from her score.

After class ended that day, I stayed behind.  

I sat quietly in my front row seat, until Mr. Lavender peered up from his desk and said, “Jones, did you need something?”

“I have a question.” I said.  I came right out and asked him why he took a point off my essay for incorrect grammar, but not Marilyn’s.

He smiled and said, “Jones, I know you can do better.  Besides, I thought Jackson was your friend.”

I had hoped to encourage Mr. Lavender to change my score to a perfect 100, but that wasn’t going to happen, and thinking back, I’m glad it didn’t.  Striving for that extra point made me work harder.  It also demonstrated the fact that perfection is really an illusion.  Mr. Lavender, who went on to become Superintendent of Education (and my secret inspiration), knew exactly what he was doing.