Recently published in Brain, Child Magazine‘s awesome special Teen issue, this cartoon explores how information is shared (and likewise withheld) between parents and teens.
I was introduced to the Johari window 20 years ago at a UCLA Leadership workshop in Ojai, CA by none other than Joe Luft who created the concept with a guy named Harry Ingham (get it?) in the 50s. Despite being a terrific cartoon device, this matrix was a challenge for me. I had to virtually make up everything in the lower two quadrants. (Why make sh*t up when so much going on around you falls into the category of “you can’t make this sh*t up?”) As a parent of two teens, I have all sorts of things I could have used in the lower left quadrant, but I’m nowhere near ready to share that information, just yet.
Funny, I can’t think of a single thing to write about this one.
Seriously, I joined a really great writing workshop about a year and a half ago and if nothing else, I’ve learned that writing is much, much harder work (for me) than drawing. That said, with a couple of squiggly lines and the change of one word, I could easily make this “What I do to avoid drawing” because I suffer from avoidance tendencies with that too!
Just for the record, I do not have a foot or shoe fetish, but I do enjoy drawing shoes because they have a way of defining people. So when I recently came across an old photo of me in the pink toed shoes taken my senior year of college (below), I got the idea to see what I could learn about myself by examining some of the more memorable shoes I’ve worn in my life.
The high correlation between comfort and cost per wear is clear, but not very surprising.
I did notice after finishing this that I mixed up two of letters on the chart. I wonder if anyone else will notice, and if they do, whether they will figure out which. Unfortunately, making a mistake on a drawing isn’t as fixable as returning a pair of ill chosen shoes to the store. I either have to live with it or throw the drawing out and start over. In this case, I’ll live with it.
The death ray stare I am giving the photographer is a clue that I was probably in a fair amount of pain at the time the photo was taken.