The Minute of Reflection Diner

August 31st 2009

The senior retreat this week had a “Survivor” theme that was complete with tiki lamps, chariot races and tee-shirts. The ingenuity and attention to detail by the adults was exceptional, and the students had a fantastic time. One of the questions for the teams was “If Mr. Sellers had a diner, what would he call it?” The answers made me laugh, but first some background.

During the early 1990s I was part of a magazine called “Roadside” that was devoted to all kinds of roadside Americana, particularly the American diner – which we defined as “a pre-fabricated structure hauled to its site, with counter-service.” The magazine was a hit, particularly in New England, where Yankee Magazine featured us and subscription revenue took off. I never quit my day job, but had fun getting to know the people and the history behind these unique institutions.

First answer – The Segway Diner. A reference to my riding around campus on a Segway that a friend lent to me when I was struggling with my hip last year. It was a lifesaver before surgery when I literally could not get around campus. I still have great fun with it and it helps when I have limited time but want to get around and see different games or be in two places at once. It is, at all times, a great conversation piece.

Next answer – The Minute of Reflection Diner. A reference to a practice I started at all school assembly where our entire school takes time to sit in silence and think – mostly about whatever one wants to think about, but occasionally a speaker will suggest a topic for reflection. My first year it was a bit of a rolling squirm-session, and perhaps more distracting for many of those in attendance than anything else. Last year we started to move into the potential of the reflection time, and I could tell it had taken off when the student speakers started to build it into their talks, looking forward to the community building aspects of it.

Final answer: Big Papi’s Diner. A reference to the striking visual similarity between me and the Dominican-born Red Sox slugger David Americo Ortiz. I must remember to clap my hands together at the start of each day.