If you scroll through my Instagram feed, you will probably conclude that I am a dog person, concerned with aging skin, interested in good mental health, and - maybe most importantly - I love to dance.

I can’t begin to comprehend how social media algorithms work, but they’ve certainly got my number. As fascinating – and creepy – as it may be...they are watching me.

And they are not the first to do so.

When our children were little, I remember my own behaviors - some good, others not so much - parroted by our then pint-sized son. It was cool…and humbling and scary. He was watching me.

But I am a watcher too. Some of my best learning comes from watching.

To be clear, I am not a stalker; I do not go to great lengths to follow my prey in search of learning. I simply notice things about how others choose to live their lives. I process and then attempt to incorporate that learned wisdom into my own life.

I had an older friend who used to delight in small, simple treasures. She spent time creating fairy houses - beautiful and detailed homes made from bits and pieces of nature - and she would take our children by their hands, guiding them in the direction of her creations. It was magical - both her work, and the pleasure she gained from sharing it.

More than that, though, when we met for tea, she would serve small treats, intentionally selected and placed upon beautiful china steep with history and significance. Scattered across the table would be small plants and nic nacs from her collections, and she would beam as she told me about each and every piece.

I attended the 90th birthday of another friend. This amazing woman does not look 90 (though not due to the anti-aging creams that vie for my attention on my Instagram feed). She has vitality and energy; she is engaged and passionate.

Her birthday was a special celebration, and I was honored to be included. And as I looked around, I noticed that her guests were all ages, from all walks of life. She had gathered her friends together to celebrate her - but really it was a celebration for all of us. 

I watch my dogs too. Oh, there is great learning there.

What joy they feel just from loving, the endless fun they derive from a yellow ball, their propensity for afternoon naps, and their ravenous appetite for any small scrap offered. I notice the patience they exhibit while they wait until I have time to play, as well as their fierce loyalty to me and our family.

And although our children may be watching us, our children are also our greatest teachers.

We observe so much in them - their perseverance, their kindness, their mistakes, and their ability to live outside of their comfort zone day after day.

And while it may be heartening to see ourselves in our children, it is inspiring and educational when we see our children think and act beyond our own capabilities.

I watch strangers too. 

Standing in line to order my flat white at Starbucks, I notice other customers. Some seem harried and impatient, while others take the time for pleasantries and good manners. Some call the baristas by name.

I’m also watching at the nail salon. Some folks have their heads buried in their phones while others have a familiarity and a banter with the women who so kindly are beautifying their nails.

Then there are the people in my exercise class. Those in traffic on the Post Road, sitting in meetings, or wandering the aisles at the grocery store. Most are only acquaintances - some I have never met - but so much is revealed to me by how they navigate moments both frustrating and fun.

Now, we may consider this to be people-watching - recreational in nature (if potentially creepy) - but psychologists call it observational learning (it’s really a thing!). And if we keep our eyes and hearts open, this learning can truly impact our lives.

And that is really quite amazing – our world is our classroom. Always there to teach us - how to do better and be better.

I would like to think I am discreet, stealth, and as imperceptible as the Instagram algorithm…but I am watching you. And for that I am grateful, because I have learned - and continue to learn - so much.

You are my best teacher. 

“A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.” – Henry Adams