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.

Liars Not So Anonymous: Trump and My Mother

I know a thing or two about lying and liars. Not just because I taught for 35+ years and heard more than my fair share when it came to excuses for any number of behaviors. And not because I was a guidance counselor for 6+ years and occasionally had to confront a student about the disconnect between what they were saying and what they were doing.

No, my experience with lying came from my familial upbringing. My mother had, shall we say, a casual, occasionally nodding, acquaintance with the truth. You know, you pass someone on the street and they look sort of familiar, so you kind of nod? That was her approach to the truth. Never tell it if there’s a lie available.

Anecdote #1, typical. She wanted to know how much a house was selling for on her street. She called the relator listed on the sign, then launched into a long, totally fictitious, story about uncles and nieces looking for houses, all under an alias. My brother and I were frequently tasked with answering the phone and lying for her if it was someone she didn’t want to talk to. I think Caller ID might have freed us from this sinful habit.

And a habit it is, one that I unfortunately picked up and had a difficult time overcoming, although I pride myself on having done so. Anecdote #2, personal. My college roommate and I were hitchhiking to Buffalo to visit a high school friend and classmate of mine. It’s upstate New York in the winter, snowy, cold and unpleasant. My friend went to college in Buffalo, but a smaller school, not Buffalo University, which is what we put on our sign to indicate both that we were students and our destination. 

We got a ride pretty quickly, and the driver asked, reasonably, if we went to Buffalo University. I immediately channeled my mother and answered, “Yes.” The next hour and a half consisted of my making up stuff about a school I’d never been to and knew nothing about. When our ride dropped us off in Rochester, my roommate looked at me and said, “What the ¶¢∞ª was that about?” Shaking my head, I confessed, “I don’t know.” That was an early, painfully embarrassing, lesson, but for years it was one day at a time.

My mother was so compulsive in her lying that she started to believe her lies and thus became quite good at revisionist history, at least on a personal level. That, of course, begs the question, “Is it lying if the liar believes what (s)he is saying, even if the rest of the world knows the truth is something not only different but verifiably different?” I don’t have the answer to that, but it is why I have been loath to accuse the current president of lying, because I think he always believes what he’s saying, even if it’s completely different than what he said the day, or week, or month, or year before.

I don’t know if there’s a cure, exactly, but Step 1 on the program is admitting you have a problem. Other steps including admitting you were/are wrong and asking forgiveness. I’m less than optimistic that any of these steps are on the agenda of our current president.

The Mix of Politics and Teaching

I just received notice from the National Education Association (you know, that monolithic union/bastion of power bent on having its teacher members corrupt the youth of our nation with liberal ideas) that they are considering revoking my life membership. My crime? Apparently I have too many former students who have come out on Facebook as conservative in their politics.

Okay, there’s not one bit of the above paragraph that is true (and if you’ve ever seen the “herding cats” exercise that passes for a national NEA convention you already know it), although from what I’ve read over the years that misconception is seemingly widespread. I’m proud of my service in and to that organization during the first two-thirds (or so) of my career; the NEA (and AFT) advocated and fought for teachers at a time when no one else did. Teacher unions still represent the only organized voice for the teaching profession.

But that’s not the point of this piece. I would be interested in feedback from any of my formers who’d like to chime in, no matter their political leanings. I’m not sure it will matter in terms of how I will answer the question I’m posing, but I’m curious as to your thoughts. I hope that you always felt like I respected students’ opinions, no matter how wrong you were and still are.

Okay, seriously, here’s the question I’m presenting in my own meandering fashion. I will be doing a maternity leave sub job this spring (6 weeks, sophomores, mostly just regular classes, but one Advanced Placement). The subject? U.S. Government. Starting to see where I’m going here?

Government by definition has to veer into politics, especially in an election year, which 2016 finally is, even though it feels like we’ve been in an election year for over a year already. (Style note: the repetition of “year” is deliberate if questionably effective.)

I’ve never made any secret that I lean left politically. The question (“Finally!” you say) is do I tell students up front where I stand and (try to) assure them that I don’t care about their politics, only their ability to logically and rationally defend their positions? Or do I teach (as best I can) from a position of neutrality, knowing that my biases and beliefs will inevitably leak into the discussion.

I have always (well, at least since I got a clue about my craft) believed a teacher must teach who (s)he is, her/his personality and beliefs. Anything less is, again by definition, inauthentic and kids spot phonies and wishy-washies right away. My experience is that they WANT to know where you stand and don’t have a lot of tolerance for disingenuous fence-sitters.

Clearly I didn’t turn all my students into raving lunatic liberal socialists (I feel like such a failure!) even though they might think I’m in that camp. (I did have one student, very early in my career, tell me that her father thought I was a Communist; she made it clear she agreed with him. Pretty sure she didn’t become one, though.) Neither, as far as I know, did the few conservative Neanderthals/counter-revolutionaries who somehow snuck into the teaching profession turn students into wild-eyed fascists. I don’t really think it works that way.

    But I AM interested in what you think about the approach I will almost certainly take, which is to be totally upfront. I frequently tell kids, “I will never lie to you, but I may try to find a way to tell the truth that avoids bluntness or cruelty.” (“Johnny, have you considered Speed Bump as a career?” – see, I never said that, although I did create a list of “Careers for the Otherwise Useless” that I kept locked away in a drawer during my finale as Hancock’s guidance counselor, but that’s a topic for another day [if ever].)

Happy New Year (and Happy Old Ones, Too)

New Year’s Eve, 1968. Our second date. Found out, among other things, Carolyn was a good sport. Playing charades (which she hates), her song title: Don’t Let the Screen Door Hit Ya Where the Cat Bit Ya. This would have been awful even for someone who liked the game!

We are all changed, to a greater or lesser degree, by our relationships, as well as events, random or not, depending on how you view the universe. (See Ray Bradbury’s A Sound of Thunder) In my own case, I think that’s especially true (and yes, I know we ALL think we’re more unique than we really are), because, at a really immature 20, I was wandering cluelessly through my life, with no idea as to what I was or where I was going. Becoming my authentic self wasn’t even something I had even thought about, wasn’t even in my field of vision. I can’t say who I was trying to be, mostly because I didn’t really know who I was.

Lucky for me, I found a partner who only knew how to be authentic and encouraged, prodded, and supported my halting journey toward a true self. I must also credit my career as a teacher for helping me forge my path, because kids, not just Holden Caulfield, can always spot the fakes and phonies, but none of it would have been possible without that safety net of unconditional love every day I came home.

I look forward to continuing that journey, and am thankful for having had someone to hold my hand as I’ve stumbled along these past 46 years. As I’ve told so many students in the past, life is a marathon, not a sprint, and as I start to make out the involuntary finish line in (what I hope is) the distant future, the goal is to keep on going, and work hard to help others as I can, or at least not run or stumble over anyone along the way.

May 2015 be a year of growth and joy for all of us.

Big Brother Just Might Really Start Watching

Smile, you’re on Candid Camera!

We live in a complex society, centered in an increasingly complex world. Anyone, politician or preacher, who offers a panacea, is a charlatan.

That being said, because it would cost over a million dollars upfront, with maybe another half-million annually, I don’t think we’re going to see body cameras become ubiquitous anytime soon on St. Louis police officers. St. Louis County may have a little more money, but I doubt that it has THAT much more. That says nothing about the larger cities, like my own Webster Groves or Kirkwood, Ladue, Clayton, etc. And then we have mini-fiefdoms scattered around the county. I can see it now: “Good news! Bella Villa police now have body cameras. They only had to triple the outrageous number of (trap) tickets they wrote to pay for them.”

Of course, even being able to spend that kind of money would virtually, if not actually, require approval from the local police union. I think you could get better odds on the Cubs winning a World Series than that happening.

Perhaps I’m wrong in that assessment. Perhaps police officers would recognize that there are protections built in for them as well as citizens when they wear the cameras. How many bogus complaints of police brutality and harassment are filed each year? I would think (almost) everyone would like to see the number of complaints filed be reduced, and it seems to me that body cameras might make a significant dent in that number. Given the fact that (so-called) Smart Phones have made almost everyone on the street a potential recorder, if not reporter, I’m not sure privacy claims have any relevance for any of us any more.

But I get their trepidation. As a teacher I’m pretty sure I would have resisted cameras recording every word, every lesson, every movement of mine in the classroom. It certainly would have changed the classroom dynamic, negatively impacted the establishment of relationships with students. I don’t think I ever used it, but when I moved into the guidance office at Hancock I had a recorder at the ready, just in case, because when you close the door to a small office, even one with a vertical window in it, you (ironically) open yourself up to specious accusations from a disgruntled student or parent.

I freely admit that, for better and worse, I had a less active filter than many teachers. Even when my lessons were sort of scripted, there was no telling what might come out of my mouth based on the background noise of either the class or my mind. That was my style; I like to pretend it made me more effective, more honest, more open, and, probably, at least on occasion, more annoying. Still, it was a style that served me well for over four decades; I don’t think I would have been as successful with Big Brother recording every move.

That’s another cost, incidentally, that no one is talking about, at least not yet. Someone (or, in the case of large departments, schools or school districts, or municipal co-operatives, several someones) is going to have to watch, or be available to watch, all this data (the vast majority of which will be mind-numbingly boring). The good news is that concerns about your every move being watched are overblown; no one has the time or resources to make that happen. The bad news is that one person, with skill and proper motivation, can gain a tremendous amount of power over law enforcement (or educational) personnel. The answer to the old question of Who will watch the watchers? will certainly add to the cost, as well.

While it may sound like I’ve almost talked myself out of supporting these body cameras, we cannot ignore the cost, both financial and social, of Ferguson’s current tribulation. However you see either Michael Brown or Officer Darren Wilson, how quickly might that tragedy have been resolved (or perhaps even prevented) had body cameras been in play and the information immediately available? I’m not sure it would thrill County Prosecutor McCullough, but I’d sure like to see something like that if I were on the Grand Jury. Won’t the overall, and continually rising, price tag of that misfortune be several multiples of $2 million? Wouldn’t ALL of us prefer that? And wouldn’t that expenditure be more worthwhile than an urban tank?

9-11: A Different Kind of Throwback Thursday

One of my formers, on this 13^th anniversary of 9-11, posted on Facebook, asking what we were doing that awful day. I was in my second year of my counseling gig at the high school. Obviously, not a topic covered in Counselor School. The news came in that a plane had crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. To be honest, the thought of terrorism occurred only fleetingly to me (I tend to the naive when it comes to bad things), but I did wonder how such a terrible mistake could have happened. After calling Carolyn to tell her to turn on the TV, I gravitated to a television in Chris Ventimiglia's classroom, just in time to see the second plane hit the other tower, and then I knew that the inconceivable had happened, which was quickly confirmed by subsequent events.

For reasons I still don’t get, the district and/or middle school administration tried, more or less successfully I guess, to quarantine information from their building. Delaying information does not change the information itself and I, at least, was confident that the staff was more than competent to help kids make sense of it all. Postponing the bad news for 5 hours changed nothing and deprived students and staff of a chance to work together to share grief and knowledge.

But I had my own kids to worry about, so other than a shrug and shake, I moved on, from classroom to classroom. I don’t recall any kids being overtly traumatized, although my daughter was. (Then living in Ohio, she spent most the morning on the phone with Carolyn and didn’t fly for several years.) I do remember telling kids, “Your life has just changed forever, and in ways you can’t imagine. You may not see it right away, but your life now will be very different than it would have been yesterday.”

    As I watched President Bush address the nation, I remember thinking, “Maybe the right guy did get elected.” His speech made me calm, confident and comfortable; despite my misgivings about him politically, he seemed, well, presidential. Of course, I didn’t know he would move beyond a hunt for Osama Bin Laden in Afghanistan to a conquest of Iraq, a country which, as an enemy of Bin Laden, clearly had had nothing to do with the horror of 9-11. Despite my words of warning to our students, I could not envision how widespread the chaotic fall of dominoes would become. But on that day, all of that was as inconceivable as terrorists flying airliners into the WTC.

Ought to be a no-brainer

Collateral damage: “Unintended damage, injuries, or deaths caused by an action, especially unintended civilian casualties caused by a military operation.”

I am not a veteran. I dodged that literal and figurative bullet during the Vietnam conflict thanks to my incredibly poor eyesight. I am, however, the son and grandson of veterans. I also taught numerous young men and women who are either still serving or who served, at least one of whom paid the ultimate price, a fact about which I’m still angry and heart-broken to this day. Important friends served, as well. We owe these men and women our support, not only during their service, but after it, as well. We also owe their families our support, no matter the cost.

General Sherman famously noted, “War is hell!” What he failed to add was that, for some soldiers, it is a “hell” which can remain an ongoing part of their lives long after their service has ended. They represent a minority, albeit a significant one, of our veterans. Our support for them is, at best, minimal, and, at worst, criminally negligent. If that’s not enough to make your blood boil, consider what CBS Sunday Morning called “Collateral Damage” in a story broadcast on March 16. You should watch the linked story, but the gist is that children of servicemen and women are not entitled to any kind of counseling or treatment unless such counseling or treatment will directly benefit the serviceperson. So not only are we failing our service personnel, we’re failing their families.

For reasons I don’t understand, empathy has become a dirty word in some circles, but imagine that it’s your father or mother (or spouse or sibling), away for months at a time, perhaps even for multiple tours, experiencing the stresses of combat. Whether or not (s)he comes back damaged or unscathed from deployment in a combat zone, it is at least possible, if not likely, that you would need support, if not help, in dealing with that both during his/her absence and perhaps even after his/her return.

I think it is a fair assumption that most of the men and women who experience combat will change, some dramatically. That change won’t occur in a vacuum and will impact those closest to the veteran. The family dynamic will almost certainly change, and too often not for the better. Yet we ignore that collateral damage to the people closest to the veteran.

You would think that everyone would agree that those men and women who have served us deserve our support and respect. (Sadly, we’re not doing that great a job even for them, either.) That support must, to my mind, include the soldier’s* family, because they’re not only an integral part of the process of assimilating back into “normal” life, but they, too, must find their own new normal, both during and after deployment. 

The commercials and news stories showing the tearful reunions, parades, school assemblies, stadium reunions, etc. do exactly what they’re intended: tug at our heartstrings, make us feel good. They also mask the ongoing commitment we owe these men and women, because when the cameras are gone, when all that is left of the parade is confetti on the street, what do we do about the detritus that is the result of the deployment, the fragile family ties that must be rewoven? Those are costs we need to consider – and budget for, as well. 

I have zero hope that our political “leaders” will put aside their political and party ambitions (They’d rather point fingers, an activity that exercises only one muscle and accomplishes nothing.) to offer the kind of tribute our veterans truly deserve by adding this issue to the agenda of improving how we support our returning servicemen and women. I’m not at all optimistic but, on this Memorial Day of 2014, that would be truly memorable.

* refers to all service branch members