No one ever tells you that part of leading is the art of controlled disappointment. I have one of those jobs that is fast-paced, frenetic, and generally a blast to do. Really. I'm not making this up. I get to be creative all day long and get a paycheck at the end of the process. But sometimes, in the midst of that creation comes some sort of necessary demolition. Maybe it's disappointing someone's hopes, or having to end a professional relationship with a good group of people (or a bad group of people, as the case may be).
How do you tell someone that it's time to move on in the midst of seeming success? Things are running smoothly, everyone seems happy, but the underlying reality is the program and/or the people won't fit with the future vision or the new direction you're going. It's not easy. It's the part of the job they gloss over as you sit daydreaming in your educational leadership class, imagining yourself at the helm of a world-class educational institution, with a full head of hair, and no stress eating problem. Reality check.
So it's come to this: you've got to let them go. You've got a few options, first you can take the "I'm so sorry circumstances have moved us to this point" route, but most people can read the BS a mile away. It's insulting, and though it might be true, it's not about a faceless institution and its relationship to a human being – it's really about you representing that faceless institution and ending its relationship to another human being. Big distinction.
These events highlight the absolute importance of the present moment. You must never forget that you breathe the same air and occupy the same space. There is no you or them. The things that separate us are all illusory. Speak the truth. Speak kindly and directly, letting the space and the breath lead you to the next moment. It won't always be nice. Sometimes it will be a relief for everyone. But you must struggle to remain present and guide your actions from your own experience with rejection.
You can't necessarily make it better. That's okay. What you can do is honor their presence with your own.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
The Art of Teaching
I've been spending the last few days trying to find a speaker who could effectively take the diverse field of visual art and classroom teaching, and somehow merge them into a conflated whole that could both amuse, delight, and entertain a divergent group of people, some of whom have no interest in either topic. Not an easy task.
The more my brain is engaged with this topic, I'm starting to see, or I guess feel, that we've kind of missed the boat with our societal interpretation of what a teacher or artist really is. We've been so focused on teaching the "science" of education, hoping to somehow take the raw material of someone who may or may not be predisposed to teaching, and molding them into an inspired, dedicated, teaching machine. It doesn't work.
What we end up with, more often than not, is a slightly terrified place holder--sometimes with appropriate content knowledge--that tends to focus on the black and white tasks of education. Enforce the classroom rules? Check. Assign appropriate homework? Check. Teach the mandated state outcome for the week? Check.
We should be searching for rebels and revolutionaries that can grab a group of children and lead them down a meandering path that would seem to any outside observer as play time. But at the end of the process, that same, seemingly crazy teacher emerges, with artist/engineers in tow. We've been spending our time foolishly separating content areas when we should have been mashing them together all along.
The more my brain is engaged with this topic, I'm starting to see, or I guess feel, that we've kind of missed the boat with our societal interpretation of what a teacher or artist really is. We've been so focused on teaching the "science" of education, hoping to somehow take the raw material of someone who may or may not be predisposed to teaching, and molding them into an inspired, dedicated, teaching machine. It doesn't work.
What we end up with, more often than not, is a slightly terrified place holder--sometimes with appropriate content knowledge--that tends to focus on the black and white tasks of education. Enforce the classroom rules? Check. Assign appropriate homework? Check. Teach the mandated state outcome for the week? Check.
We should be searching for rebels and revolutionaries that can grab a group of children and lead them down a meandering path that would seem to any outside observer as play time. But at the end of the process, that same, seemingly crazy teacher emerges, with artist/engineers in tow. We've been spending our time foolishly separating content areas when we should have been mashing them together all along.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Young
Over the course of the past week, the idea of age seems to be a common theme rattling about my universe. In the Aspiring Heads Program--how old is old enough? When thinking about the first headship--do I need to look older?
Both questions will ultimately be answered by search committees and their inherent cultural and regional biases, but the deeper question remains.
Trust experience, would be my answer. Serving on so many hiring committees this past year has been enlightening. I come face to face with the absolutely groomed resume, only to find an inexperienced, slightly scared applicant chatting with me over coffee. I've seen resumes, that on first blush, would be serviceable as garden mulch, but then find myself face to face with someone who just 'gets' it. Unfortunately, due to our school culture, they aren't employable, but hopefully, that's changing.
I have to buckle down and do--what I'm, ironically, really good at doing, and hate more than anything--spin. I have experience, but I've got to show a prospective board how it translates into a more advantageous quality that Mr. or Mrs. X, who's been twiddling their thumbs, innovating nothing, yet sticking around because they're innocuous. The places are there. I can find them. I will find them.
Both questions will ultimately be answered by search committees and their inherent cultural and regional biases, but the deeper question remains.
Trust experience, would be my answer. Serving on so many hiring committees this past year has been enlightening. I come face to face with the absolutely groomed resume, only to find an inexperienced, slightly scared applicant chatting with me over coffee. I've seen resumes, that on first blush, would be serviceable as garden mulch, but then find myself face to face with someone who just 'gets' it. Unfortunately, due to our school culture, they aren't employable, but hopefully, that's changing.
I have to buckle down and do--what I'm, ironically, really good at doing, and hate more than anything--spin. I have experience, but I've got to show a prospective board how it translates into a more advantageous quality that Mr. or Mrs. X, who's been twiddling their thumbs, innovating nothing, yet sticking around because they're innocuous. The places are there. I can find them. I will find them.
Up in the air
Decisions, decisions, decisions. . . nothing of the dire, Hunger Games sort, but still life altering, nonetheless. I'm typing away on a flight to Atlanta, with an eventual destination of Hershey, PA. Yes, like the chocolate. I'll be interviewing as a finalist for an administrative arts position at the Milton Hershey school. Their mission is really attractive. 1900 kids, living in poverty, raised up by the foresight of someone who wasn't afraid to give back. Of course, he only wanted to help poor white boys at the time, but with a few strategic changes to the school's mission, it has become a pretty inclusive place. I love the concept of a private school environment with a real, mission to help people.
For those of you unfamiliar with the private school world, it's pretty great, but there is a bit of residual guilt associated with the fact that your client base is primarily affluent. It comes with pros and cons. Pro- I never, ever have to sell candy for fund-raisers, con- less wealthy students don't necessarily get to do all the 'extra' things, like trips and travel. Pro- I can hire a full-orchestra to mount productions of choral/orchestral masterpieces, con- well, I guess there isn't one, but the knowledge that my energy could be used to help kids who would otherwise not have much of a chance, is alluring.
Time will tell. It might be a perfect fit, or it might be a collosal waste of time, but I am open. I am breathing. I will try to stay present.
For those of you unfamiliar with the private school world, it's pretty great, but there is a bit of residual guilt associated with the fact that your client base is primarily affluent. It comes with pros and cons. Pro- I never, ever have to sell candy for fund-raisers, con- less wealthy students don't necessarily get to do all the 'extra' things, like trips and travel. Pro- I can hire a full-orchestra to mount productions of choral/orchestral masterpieces, con- well, I guess there isn't one, but the knowledge that my energy could be used to help kids who would otherwise not have much of a chance, is alluring.
Time will tell. It might be a perfect fit, or it might be a collosal waste of time, but I am open. I am breathing. I will try to stay present.
Still flying high
It's always interesting to discover who might be sitting next to you on your next flight. A few months ago, it was Morgan Freeman. Nice enough guy. Not a talker, which was okay by me.
I'm currently seated next to the author of "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus." We've exchanged tips on subjects ranging from ADD medication to the niftyness of my EEE Pad Transformer.
Reminds me, I need to tell Grant about grape seed extract (the good stuff from Europe or Canada) and vitamin C dosing. Something to look into :)
I'm have a feeling that tomorrow's gonna be a very long day. It looks like I won't be getting into Harrisburg until 11ish, where I'll have to navigate to the Hershey Lodge. Yes, I said it, the Hershey Lodge. It will certainly be an interesting time.
I'm currently seated next to the author of "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus." We've exchanged tips on subjects ranging from ADD medication to the niftyness of my EEE Pad Transformer.
Reminds me, I need to tell Grant about grape seed extract (the good stuff from Europe or Canada) and vitamin C dosing. Something to look into :)
I'm have a feeling that tomorrow's gonna be a very long day. It looks like I won't be getting into Harrisburg until 11ish, where I'll have to navigate to the Hershey Lodge. Yes, I said it, the Hershey Lodge. It will certainly be an interesting time.
Remembering to remember to remember
I know this is going to be the cycle of life, not that anything is really drastic, or that my emotions are uncontrollable, but that I ignore the beauty of this present moment when I'm focused so mindlessly on the future or on the past. So much pain that is so easily avoidable.
Grant, being the wonderful partner he is, found this lovely Buddha, who now has a home on my desk, and occasionally uses his slightly alien gaze to remind me that it's not really all that important to do anything but breathe, laugh, love, and create. I get to do those things every day. I'm so unbelievably lucky that I get to do those things every day.
When I do focus on the present, I realize that I am in the midst of joy. Sometimes, during the Eucharist a chill still flows down my spine when I hear the words, "it is right and a good and joyful thing always and everywhere to give praise to you." I have quite a few differences of opinion with regard to the gender of who we might be saying these things to, or if in fact there is a thing to say them to at all, but whoever wrote those words gets it. Perhaps the quote should read," it is right and a good and joyful thing always and everywhere to be present." I can buy that theology.
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