No matter when you set a deadline for a group, if you're dealing with more than 30 people, somebody is going to hand in the term paper late, or show up late.
The person always has an excuse. It may be a good excuse; it may be a bad excuse. It is always some version of this: "The dog ate my homework."
It does not matter how important it is to get the paper in on time. A dog is always lurking in the background, ready to eat somebody's homework.
I remember very clearly an event that took place in the fall semester of 1955. It was in a high school algebra class. We had been assigned a long-term project, which was the first one I ever got in high school. Over a period of at least two months, we were supposed to do some project that had something to do with arithmetic. I remember very clearly my project: I pretended that I had bought a stock on the New York Stock Exchange, and I followed its price. I wanted to see how much I would make or lose. It was a very simple project, and I don't know what grade I got on it, but it was probably a B. I did not know it at the time, but I had bought a gold-mining stock. That was a mistake; the price of gold had not changed for 21 years. The price of the stock barely changed.
One of the students told the teacher that he had planned to do the homework assignment, but it was going to be late. The teacher told him not to bother to hand it in; he was going to get an F. This incident has stuck in my mind for a long time. I don't ever remember handing in any assignment late.
Today, I have to write four articles a day for Gary North.com, and I have to assemble or write a couple of articles for Tea Party Economist. Then I have to do two lessons, minimum, for the Ron Paul Curriculum. My life is a series of deadlines. I meet these deadlines. I do not let the dog eat my homework.
AN ANNUITY OFFER
I made an offer to over 100,000 people: an opportunity to produce phonics-based reading videos as part of the Ron Paul curriculum. This would enable somebody to generate income on a permanent basis. Once the videos and lesson plans are online, they will generate money for as long as Ron Paul Curriculum is online, or until somebody produces a better series, but even then, the first person who gets the videos produced keeps the position for five years.
This was a very good opportunity for teachers. For somebody who is a retired grade school teacher, and who has had experience teaching phonics, it is like an annuity. It is certainly like a retirement program. You work very hard up front, and then you just cash checks for the rest of your life.
I put a deadline on a sample screencast video lesson: November 1. My deadlines are fixed. I am like that teacher back in 1955. I live by deadlines. I live by deadlines as a producer, and I also live by them as a manager.
A deadline is a great screening device. Anybody who hands in an assignment late is identifying himself as somebody who does not believe in deadlines. This person believes that the dog has a right to eat his homework. There is always supposed to be grace shown by the boss. There is always supposed to be forgiveness. And when that person does not meet deadlines all along the way, there is always supposed to be grace, and there is always supposed to be forgiveness.
When it comes to deadlines from me, a producer should expect no grace.
Maybe someone's grandmother died. I am sorry. The person should have produced the video sooner. Grandmothers die unexpectedly.
The deadline was my way of determining whether or not a person submitting a product to me is likely to be able to submit 180 lessons a year, times three courses. That is a lot of lessons. The best indication I could devise to test someone's willingness and psychological ability to meet a deadline 180 times per course was to set a deadline for a sample video. Sure enough, four people submitted their videos late. They all had excuses. The dogs had eaten their homework.
Several people sent lessons within three days. They had learned early: beware of the dog. In life, you had better plan on dealing with hungry dogs. You hear them barking in the night. You see colleagues who have problems with their dogs. You recognize early that you had better plan to meet the deadline at least a day in advance, thus securing your homework from the insatiable hunger of your dog.
Dogs are always out there, waiting to attack a vulnerable person who has failed to guard his homework.
In military affairs, when dogs eat people's homework, lots of people may die. The man who taught that algebra class back in 1955 had been a military man. He did not tolerate missed deadlines. I decided in 1955 that I was going to meet my deadlines in life. That lesson, imposed on another student, stuck in the back of my mind for the rest of my life. It was the most important single lesson in my life, given the way that I make a living today. I am sure that my teacher had no idea that this lesson was going to shape the life of somebody in the classroom, but it did.
In the fall of 1962, I had to choose a topic for my senior thesis. At the University of California, Riverside, every student was required to produce a senior thesis. It was probably the only state university in the United States that required this. That was the last year it was required, and from that time on, the university began to grow rapidly. It added a graduate school program. It completely changed. But, back in 1962, every student had to write a thesis.
I decided to write a thesis on the capture of the northern Presbyterian Church by liberals. Over the next two semesters, I did my research, and I turned in the paper that was 120 pages long. It was much longer than normal for a senior thesis. I never forgot that assignment. I kept working on it, on and off, for the next 33 years. In 1996, my book was published: Crossed Fingers: How the Liberals Captured the Presbyterian Church. It was over 1,000 pages long.
I sent a copy of it to one of the three men who was on the committee that graded my original thesis: Jeffrey Burton Russell. He subsequently became one of the most famous medieval historians in the world. But that was his first teaching assignment. I wrote on the inside cover a statement that I was sorry that I was turning in the term paper late. He later wrote back, thanking me for the book, but he noted in his letter that he took off one grade for every 10 years that a term paper was late. Therefore, I had flunked. Actually, I should at least have gotten a D. But I did not argue with him.
I hope the students who go through the Ron Paul Curriculum will respect deadlines. But, because it is a self-taught curriculum, it has no deadlines. Students go at their own pace. They are treated as adults by the instructors. Their parents can monitor what goes on, but that is between the parents and the students.
The four people who submitted their video samples late are not eligible for the position. They had plenty of time to get those videos produced, and they failed to do it. The dogs ate their homework. They need to get control over their dogs. I am not going to risk becoming dependent on any of them for 180 lessons times three.
The dogs are out there, salivating. Be aware of this.
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