My Life Is Not a Data Point
Slam! Stepping out of our van at Middle School drop off, I looked to the end of my arm to find my hand wedged in the closed door. Tears ensued. I hopped back into the passenger seat as my dad steered us in the direction of the doctor’s office. Months later I would lose the fingernail on my right, middle finger effectively grossing out an entire room of boys on our eighth grade field trip to Shaker Village, but that’s a different story.
As I sat for my initial finger examination, my doctor proclaimed, “You’re a statistic!” You see, the rate of injuries increases in the days following the ‘springing forward’ of clocks due to lack of sleep and general grogginess. Occurring the Monday after the time change, my mishap was classified as one such calamity.
Clearly the words, “You’re a statistic!” echoed in my brain as I still remember the exchange some thirty-plus years later. As a teen, it seemed novel and fun. I’m a statistic!! In a world that wants to convert all activities to their most banal data points, I’m less enthusiastic.
We appear to be focused on the wrong success indicators.
It does not matter to me how many steps I’ve walked in a day. My body knows when I’ve moved too much or too little. Tallying the times I’ve picked up my phone, what app I opened first, and how much cumulative screen time there’s been — much less a breakdown by app — is entirely unnecessary. I can tell you if I’ve been staring at that tiny brick of technology in my hand more than I would like.
