Random Thoughts from an Accidental Leader

I’ve written before how much a role serendipity has played in my life (Accidental Teacher, Accidental Coach, Accidental Counselor). My life has not been planned, at least not in the big picture. In fact, I’m still not sure what that picture will look like when it’s finished.

Oh, sure, once I (accidentally) became a teacher or a coach (softball, journalism, drama, etc.) or counselor, I tried to control as much as I could, perhaps often to the point of even over-planning (as I’ve also noted previously, I will never get a Staples or Nice ‘n Easy commercial because I tend to overcomplicate things). My father’s son, long-range planning, within those specific corridors, is in my blood.

I also became an accidental leader. Accidental in that I am not a particularly ambitious person, unwilling to pay the price exacted by ambition. My first brush with leadership came at the end of my first year of teaching when I was asked to get involved in Hancock’s nascent teacher union, locked in conflict with an intransigent school board and the incompetent superintendent who was their puppet. I declined. “I’m not interested in that stuff,” I said. Within two years I became the president-elect and (he says, immodestly) and (essentially) the “union boss” for about the next two decades, with power roles locally and regionally, along with two terms (n.b., term limits) on the state board of directors.

So, add leadership to the accidents that shaped me. I eventually recognized that I tended to be a power magnet, accumulating it effortlessly and certainly without any real desire for personal gain. I never really analyzed the why or the how of leadership, I just accepted that leadership was a key piece of my identity and it was easier to just go with the flow than deal with the frustration of resistance. Yes, I suppose that probably sounds, and may be, kind of arrogant and/or egotistical, but my ongoing road to authenticity requires that kind of self-examination.

Interestingly, if you’re still reading, the intersection (collision?) of all four of those accidents has led to what I hope will become a new regular feature on my Facebook feed (joining Wednesday Wisdom & Good News Friday), starting next week, the first Monday of the new year (Happy New Year, btw), the Monday Leadership Memo, because I’m still teaching, or at least trying to, for those who care to keep an open mind and listen (never close to 100%, even in my prime). The four accidental components of teaching, counseling, coaching and leading, mindfully combined. 

“Why?” you may ask (or not, but I’m going to tell you, just like any number of classroom lessons). At the end of this season, my assistant coach and I received a thank you gift from one of our players — the book Legacy, about the All Blacks, the NZ rugby team, and how that team’s leadership values have allowed it to achieve a status that far surpasses what a team from a small nation should be able to achieve, year after year, and how that leadership culture can be applied in so many ways to life as we know it. (Her father is a well-known coach, at least in area soccer circles.)

I started reading, part of the ritual as I prepared for the fitful sleep that defines my nights now (#joysofaging) and at a chapter per evening, finished it fairly quickly. I was immediately struck by the leadership lessons that seem so obvious but which I had never really analyzed (even if I, again immodestly, unconsciously incorporated many of them into my developing character). 

As our nation approaches what may be one of its most historically important elections, a potential turning point to which chapters and undoubtedly books will be devoted, each week (or so) in the months leading up to that pivotal day, I will attempt to get my friends and formers to think (and that was always my only goal) on the fundamental question, “What characterizes true leadership?” While this isn’t a multiple choice question, and, being a “Shades of Grey” kind of guy (Billy Joel, not E. L. James), I’m pretty sure that there are multiple answers, all colored by the lenses through which we variously view life.

The Why Not The What

The why is more important than the what, motivation > outcome, process > result. When teaching history, what happened interested me far less than the why and how; in English, reasoning always eclipsed the actual conclusion.

As the tribes dig their trenches ever deeper and their siege mentality fossilizes, I struggle mightily, with ever increasing fatigue, to listen to, if not agree with, those who see politics (and society) as what more and more seems to resemble a war. I get that people view life through different lenses. So I don’t really care what people think nearly as much as I care why they think as they do.

I know good people who voted for the current president; I respect, even I don’t completely understand, their reasons. That I could never have come to that same conclusion does not negate their process or value as fellow inhabitants on this planet. I have been clear from long before the election that I had no respect for Donald Trump as a person, that I found him a despicable being, based on his own words and actions, not on what others said about him. 

I do have to give him credit for subsequently pushing his stock lower than even I could have imagined during his tenure; he has revealed himself to be an even worse being than I could have possibly anticipated. Understand, I’m talking personal traits (the word qualities seems so inappropriate), not political positions. Again, based on his own words and actions, not the opinions of others. 

Still, I get that at least many, if not most, of his supporters don’t think character matters; as long as that remains a consistent metric for future candidates with opposing POVs, I won’t argue. Some are so invested in the Republican Party (which is no longer resembles anything like the party of Eisenhower or Reagan or even Bush (43), but never mind) that their support is unwavering. Others are so anti-Democrat, frightened or disgusted by their vision of that party, that nothing else matters. Okay, I get that, too. I may view those positions as mistaken or wrong, but valid at least through their own lenses. The why, not the what.

Believe me, it takes a lot of effort for me to ignore everything to arrive at that point, but I can generally, grudgingly, manage. For so many people committed to their tribe, whichever tribe it is, it’s a black and white world.

But what truly frustrates me is that as hard as I work to give/find credit, to respect those who hold opposing views, to understand the why if not the what, I find little evidence that there is any attempt to understand MY why. Instead, I see memes and snarky reposts that too frequently border on personal (if not specifically addressed to me) attacks. For those defending the current president, if I can try to understand the why of your position, is reciprocity, the respect for one who disagrees with you, too much to ask? 

That is what is wearing me out and down. That is what makes me want to completely disengage. But my gift this holiday season is to persist. If you would like to reciprocate, may I suggest resisting the temptation to share that meme or post which demonizes, denigrates, or discounts those who don’t see the world through your lens, but their own, a lens they value. Think about their why.

No matter the tribe to which you pledge allegiance, mindlessly posting memes about the other just expands and mines a “No Man’s Land,” shredding the fabric of our nation, building a wall that keeps our country apart — and weak. 

Best Thanksgiving Ever

Yes, this is late and it’s now closer to Christmas than my favorite holiday, but I may have had my best Thanksgiving, if not ever, at least in a long while. 

What made this one special was a long conversation with my granddaughter, Bex (aka Rebecca, Becca). She’s 12. Not that we used to have long, philosophical talks or anything, but since her Dad now works from home (good for him, the family, just all around good) our (joyful) grandparenting duties have diminished. And she’s 12. She is, as is normal and healthy, establishing her independence and autonomy and doesn’t need us like she used to. That, too, is good, good for her, good for her family, just all around good.

Well, maybe not as good for me because I’ve missed her, I’ve missed the closeness of the relationship we developed in her earlier years. True anecdote: One day, when she was 3 or 4 and we were down in Florida on our annual vacation, I was in the pool with her (tough duty). Another child her age came down the steps and I heard, “Hi, I’m Becca, and this is my best friend, Grandpa.” Best.Day.Ever.

Understand, I am not complaining. She’s growing up like she’s supposed to. She’s a smart, funny, talented, creative, kind young woman, as self-aware and self-confident as you have any right to expect from any 12 year old. I know I can be proud and sort of sad at the same time and it’s all okay. But I’ve missed her.

Our Thanksgiving table was less crowded this year, a smaller group, and I wandered back to my office where she had retreated for some alone time. Alone time is important for almost everyone, but especially in our family. Anyway, I sat down and we talked for at least a half hour. That’s a long time. Did I mention she’s 12? 

I asked her about her Diabetes (T1D). Is it a big deal to her? Apparently not. Her 3-year “Diaversary” is coming up; does she think about it? Not really. It would seem I’ve made more of a deal about the disease than she does. My small acts to raise awareness are seemingly more important to me than her. She doesn’t need me to get a T1D “Hope” Tattoo. Not that she minds, but I need to recognize that occasionally painting my fingernails in T1D’s blue & grey isn’t really about her, at least not her personally. 
For her the disease is just a fact of life, an undesirable one, to be sure, but just one part of her day-to-day existence that she has accepted and incorporated. She doesn’t need a reminder or to have her awareness raised; it’s just her life. I still bought her a t-shirt anyway.

Middle School pretty much sucks, pretty much for everyone. No sane adult would ever repeat adolescence. And hers sucks way less than most; she’s protected and most of her classmates have been together for getting close to 10 years now. I have never seen a group of kids who “play together” better than this crew. They are seldom if ever intentionally mean to anyone and are almost always at least kind and considerate to each other.

Still, as we talked, a few tears were shed. (I’ve always seemed to have the ability to generate tears from adolescent females. It’s a gift.) Unintentional hurts still hurt, even when you know the hurt was unintentional. Even with a group of peers that you know like and respect you, there can be a feeling of loneliness. That’s normal, that’s okay, but it’s still adolescence and it still sucks.

I even started to walk away once when I felt I’d spent as much time as she wanted, but, instead, she re-jumped the conversation and I got bonus time, like reaching a certain score on a video game. (Okay, Boomer, I admit I was going to say, “pinball game.”) I tried to listen more than I talked (not always a great strength for me), but promised her that if she ever needed to talk without me making noise in response, I could do that. She laughed. Still, I shared that I had my own Rules o’ Life on my blog and mentioned one or two to her.

When I got a text the next day asking for the link, while it didn’t match the pool story, it did warm my soul. It will not be easy for me, but I will resist the urge to follow up unless she broaches the subject. Just asking is enough. Just asking Grandma to take her shopping after school is enough. 

I told her she had made this The.Best.Thanksgiving.Ever. She’s 12. We hugged, long and hard, and my heart was full.

Spirit of '76

There are some advantages to growing older (not the least of which is it beats the alternative), assuming you can remember them.

Remembering the past, for example. I’ve been involuntarily reminded recently (and frequently) of an attitude that prevailed for a while in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s as the nation was roiled by protests over the ill-fated Vietnam War and civil rights. Car bumper stickers sprouted like modern-day memes. “America, Love it or Leave it” is the one that comes to mind in light of modern day events. That ugly assumption, that if you have the temerity to criticize your country you must hate it, is making a resurgence. News commentators, social media posts and more are implying, if not outright yelling, that POV.

Why must everything be a zero-sum game, an all or nothing proposal, with both poles screeching at their opposites, and, worst of all, dismissing any valid points that get lost in the halitosis of the shouting? And what is MORE American, especially on the day celebrating our independence, than protesting? Tea Party anyone?

On this 4^thof July, before getting into snark, meme posting, or finger pointing, let’s apply the stink test to our thinking. Would I react the same way if the action or opinion came from my “team?” 

I saw a great t-shirt at the Pride Parade in St. Louis Sunday: “Be careful who you hate; it might be someone you love.” I think that applies on multiple levels.

No Discounts on Happy Meals

I have a list of rules I’ve developed over my meandering life journey. Rule #1, however, serves as the linchpin: “You don’t get a discount on the Happy Meal just because you’re not.” But it took me a while to reach that milestone marker.

As I’ve been revisiting the “lost letters” from my past, I’ve been forced to reconsider my original assessment that those first years of college (at Hamilton) were spectacularly unsuccessful. In traditional terms, of course, that is completely accurate (earning about one year’s worth of credit for my two years of residence). What I’ve garnered, however, is that I did set (whether unconsciously or subconsciously), and achieve, an important goal. Apparently I was determined to be unhappy and, not surprisingly, found multiple opportunities to focus on and achieve that end.

I’d like to tell you that this was just delayed youthful angst (it’s an understatement to say that I was not particularly mature), but thinking back I also remember, this time as an alleged adult, waking up, in the middle of the night  to write dark, brooding, and (probably) bad poetry. While I still have those documents of despondency, I choose to let them live where they belong, unvisited, in the darkness of a folder.

My quest for unhappiness had familial roots. In this alley between Mothers and Fathers Days, let me state that my parents did the best they could, given the family situations they came from. I don’t think DFS even existed then, and I can’t say for sure if either would have qualified for a visit, even by the standards of today. I think it’s telling, however, that my father once told me, “Happiness is over-rated.” 

I eventually came to realize that I, and I alone, am in charge of my own happiness. Finding that happiness also involved becoming my own, authentic self. That was, and still is to an extent, definitely a process, a journey, helped along by a supportive wife and loving daughter (and her family), plus a big helping of what were often dismissively (with a large dollop of snark) described as “pop-psychology” books. (The common theme of those books? Until you like/accept your (authentic) self, happiness will be elusive, at best.)

While this path to happiness has taken a while, with occasional potholes and roadblocks, I can report that now I can always respond to the ubiquitous greeting, “Have a nice day!” with, “Why not? No extra charge, right?” That usually generates smiles in both directions.

Have a nice day!

If Life Was Fair (I'd be Rich & Have Hair)

The SAT will be adding an “adversity score” algorithm in an attempt to level the playing field for disadvantaged students. In these contentious times, this has, shockingly, generated a bit of controversy. 

I don’t pretend to know if an “adversity score”  is a good idea or bad idea. I give credit to the Educational Testing Service (ETS) for having (what passes for) its heart in the right place, for recognizing the inherent advantages of children from the affluent classes. ETS, of course, is also not divulging any of the details of its proprietary algorithm. While I don’t find fault with that decision, I also don’t trust them to make it work like it’s supposed to.

The program has been criticized from both poles, so maybe it’s not all bad. The bribery scandal that allegedly shocked the nation (Were you shocked? Was it really news that children of the wealthy had advantages not available to mere mortals?) was just an evolution. Large “donations” have been buying acceptance letters to prestigious schools for decades; we need look no further than our government. The main difference here was the attempt to make the process less obvious. You want more evidence? How about the fact that you can now buy an entry for your child if (s)he doesn’t actually win a ticket to the national spelling bee? ($1500 plus your travel and lodging expenses)

I’m not so naïve as to believe that adding one variable to the formula will change much, certainly not in the big picture. If you can pick your parents, all other things being equal, money will open more doors. I doubt that the number of kids, nationwide, who get a small bump to a (maybe more prestigious, not necessarily more appropriate*) particular school will be significant. If those few that do benefit bump an advantaged kid to a less prestigious, but undoubtedly still high quality, school, well, I doubt that will severely handicap the affluent kid.

In theory, though, this provides information to the admissions counselors (process) that may (slightly) change the perspective of the decision makers. Just knowing that an “adversity score” has been added may open eyes if not doors. Of course, because the Law of Unintended Consequences will not be denied, it might also unfairly discount the efforts of an applicant who would have received consideration outside of some arcane formula.

I’m skeptical that we can achieve fairness in the admissions process (or much of anything else, for that matter). That doesn’t mean, however, that we shouldn’t try to find ways to, if not actually level the playing field, at least remove some of the landmines. The effort and intent alone are worthwhile reminders that some of us start life’s marathon with unshared advantages that give us a head start.

* I was accepted at, and matriculated to, an allegedly prestigious college, with more graduates (per capita) than Harvard or Yale listed in Who’s Who in America, thanks in part to the fact that standardized tests were rigged in favor of white middle class (and above) kids (should there have been a “lack of adversity” factor?). Ivies, or Little Ivies, are not necessarily the best fit for kids from, shall we way, more common backgrounds. That was certainly the case for Hamilton (named for Alex while he was still alive) College and me. Mind you, my failure there was on me (does it make me exceptional, by comparison, to accept actual responsibility for that?), my immaturity, the cultural and socio-economic disparity between me and many of my classmates, my inflated opinion of my level of sophistication, plus multiple other factors obvious in hindsight.  Some of those would probably have played out no matter where I attended, but the point is, I used the wrong criteria (prestige high among them) to make my decision. But it all worked out, for me, at least, and I recognize my outcome was based, at least in part, on the advantages I had starting out.

Echoes from My Past Reinvigorate

This blog has (obviously) been on hiatus and you may have wondered why (or not). While nothing is really that simple, the simplest answer is that I found the current socio-political situation just too depressing, polarized, and entrenched to invest my increasingly limited energy into writing about it, feeling as though I’d either be preaching to the choir or screaming into a vacuum. Neither seemed worthwhile, plus, most of the time, I concluded that I had nothing of significance to add to my previous offerings.

So what has changed? Why emerge from hibernation now?

I arrived home Wednesday to a package, sent by my last high school girlfriend who had inexplicably saved all the letters I sent her through my first year of college. Inspired by an advice column in her local newspaper, she took the time to find my address and mail them to me (making sure to note that I wasn’t that special, she saved EVERYBODY’s letters!). While I’ve been wading through the 40+ epistles (she was right on target, I certainly wasn’t that special), I realized I wrote A LOT of letters (and, based on references in those missives, to a number of people).

As embarrassing as those letters are (Carolyn, thankfully, has shown zero interest in reading any of them; we long since concluded that my former self would not have been the least bit attractive to her.), what I quickly came to realize is that writing isn’t just something I do (obviously for fun, clearly not for profit), rather something I NEED. Looking back, I recognize that it was also something I did, regularly, throughout my teaching career (former colleagues will remember the union local’s most powerful weapon, TGIF), plus the occasional “Random Thoughts” memo after that newsletter disappeared (and, IMO, the local’s power went into decline).

While I always said that I wrote this blog for myself, that packet of letters from the past (I may have mentioned how embarrassing I find them now!) reminded me of the importance of continuing to write, not for the benefit of any particular audience (although I will not deny I do like having an audience, no matter how small, which may explain, at least to a certain extent, why I have a blog instead of a diary), but for my own mental health and well-being.

So, fair warning. Don’t Get Berndt is (probably) getting a re-boot. Whether it informs, entertains or (even) annoys you, this I do for me.