When I first read the question, my immediate thought was that I could stop answering poorly worded, open-ended questions altogether. That may sound like a joke, but it’s not entirely one. There are days when the most productive response to a vague question is to ask for a better one—or to recognize that not every question actually deserves an answer.
For example, I could stop being baited by grown man-children who know the rules better than anyone else, yet somehow still manage to argue every call on a Saturday morning flag football field. These are men reliving their Friday night football fantasies one questionable holding call at a time. Calm, measured breathing is the key. That, and waiting patiently for them to take it just a little too far so I can throw the flag and move on with my day.
In the classroom, I can choose patience over sarcasm. I don’t always, but I can. I’m the teacher, which means I automatically hold the high ground—whether I use it or not. Students will test boundaries; that’s part of the job. Maintaining composure instead of delivering the perfectly timed sarcastic remark is usually the better long-term play, even if it’s less satisfying in the moment. Here, at least, I reserve the right to let a little sarcasm slip in. These questions can handle it.
And then there’s bourbon. I’ve never been a big drinker, but this deep dive into whiskey has had me sampling far more than I ever used to. One thing I could do differently is sample less and savor more—going deeper with fewer pours instead of treating curiosity like a checklist. My doctor would absolutely endorse this approach, which feels like a sign I should probably listen.
None of these are life-altering changes. They’re small adjustments—responses instead of reactions, intention instead of habit. But those tend to be the ones that add up.
So what could I do differently? Quite a few things, actually. The trick isn’t knowing the answer. It’s choosing to act on it before the next whistle blows, the next comment is made, or the next glass gets poured.
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
