Yesterday I looked at the calendar for today and realized I needed to be rolling well before 6, to take my son to meet the bus for a field trip. Since I know me and the way I work best, I backed this timing up to the unwelcome realization that my alarm would have to go off at 4:30.
So by the time we hopped out of the car, ay 6:02, I had done a couple of workouts, showered, dressed, and even made my coffee.
A friend was there, dropping her son off as well. “Did you really get up at 4:30?” she asked me. “Yes. It lets me start the day off well – on my schedule.”
We chatted for a few minutes, and looked at each other with some surprise when the bus rolled away at 6:15. One or the other of us commented, “In middle school, there’s no way they’d have left before 6:30.”
My son and I had talked about this on the way to school, wondering aloud what time the bus would actually leave. He was worried we’d get there, 2 minutes late, and find the bus rolling away. I pointed out that that was pretty unlikely, that if the bus needed to leave at 6 we’d have had to be there about 15 minutes before. But anything was possible, I suppose.
It’s a respect thing, though. If the bus had not left before 6:30, that’s disrespectful to all the kids and parents who got up and were there at 6. Holding the bus for latecomers as a matter of course means that people will arrive later and later, which is not honoring the schedule set.
I can go on and on about this. But the main point for me, sitting here at 7:07 am with my coffee, is that respecting time is a way we can be a part of a community. That community can be a community of one (me, getting my workout even if it is some ridiculously early hour) or a community of tens (arriving to the bus on time, and the bus leaving on time.)
Being timely, being respectful of your schedule and that of others? Small notches in the badass belt. But every notch counts.